#she's lookin at Peggy
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Fun Peanuts character facts #2
Marcie
I think Snoopy’s in love with her (or just her French lass persona) https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1991/04/11
She loves fucking with a jealous Pep; she called pep from camp and would pretend Charles was holding her hand or nibbling her ears- she’s such an ass lmao https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1989/06/15 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1990/06/22 - Charles joins in on the fun, although it’s hard to tell if he’s also fucking with Pep (I think he is) https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1989/06/13
Bro Marcie be pullin’ - she got the attention of Floyd, flirted with a random flautist https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1986/12/03, charmed a dog, got hit on by Joe Richkid’s caddy https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1981/07/02 , was called beautiful by Cormac https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1992/07/22 and may’ve charmed Charles too https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1987/07/13
She and Peppermint Patty have physically brawled for Chuck’s affections; there’s little resentment though https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1987/09/11
Low key enjoys causing trouble, she’d done so a few times besides this: https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1997/02/07
Uhh, maybe she wants to cause more than just trouble… https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1997/10/09
Kisses Charle’s cheek and admits she’s fond of him, “I hate to see you suffer all the time,” but she doesn’t believe she’s good enough 😭😭😭; https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1982/08/18
Feels pressure to perform well academically; seeks Charles for comfort;;; my hearttt https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1990/10/18
She doesn’t want to hurt footballs by kicking it so maybe she’s not low key a psycho
She’s also kinda stupid (literal-minded?) like the other characters outside of academics, and is now a bit worse at sports due to said stupidity https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1993/09/17
https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1993/10/23 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1995/09/16 She wants to be a cheerleader for the team, and she’d cheered on her golfer as a caddy quite loudly before back when she and Peppermint Patty worked as caddies
Frequently depicted wearing white in the strips
Peppermint Patty
Likes to change up her hairstyle: https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1979/12/12 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1981/08/27 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1997/09/08
Still likes Chuck; idk what happened to her situationship with Pigpen
A while ago, mentioned something about Charlie Brown and having to teach him something - she brings out a leash and he does not agree
There was a whole arc about how a butterfly landed on her, it was both cute and stupid; https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1981/07/16
Early in her appearance, Snoopy guesses prolly correctly that she’s starved for affection lmao
Goes to dinner and classical concerts (maybe been mostly field trips) with Marcie frequently
Horrible Petscop lookin ass; https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1993/06/04
Frequently depicted wearing orange in the strip
Charlie Brown
He gets a girlfriend named Peggy Jean (a new character entirely but she does resemble Heather from the movie) https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1990/08/10
He couldn’t say his name properly so she calls him “Brownie Charles”
He falls for a possible hallucination named Emily
Never mind, she’s not a hallucination
A girl named Roy starts crushing on him https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1993/08/17 - he too be pullin’ but this was already known to some extent
Became popular and a respected figure in camp when he puts a paper sack on his head (Mr. Sack)
Sally ships Marcie with him; “Kiss [Marcie] you blockhead!” (Multiple times) https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1982/08/17 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1983/03/26
Starts getting real sentimental over caring for Snoopy in the later comics which I found to have a sad undertone
He’s actually quite witty, especially whenever Sally says something stupid https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1993/08/07
Every time there’s a younger character, Charlie Brown tends to be there for them - from Schroeder, to Lucy, Linus, Sally, and now Rerun: https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1995/04/05 bro this guy’s nurturing
He mostly wears red in the colored strips (not the colored reruns- and I’m not referring to the character Rerun) https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1996/10/20 - https://schulzmuseum.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/PeanutsByNumbers.pdf
Linus
Has a weird hate-love thing with a girl named Lydia (who started off changing her name a lot for the fun of it) https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1993/10/06
Has a fairly nice thing with a girl named Truffles but I can’t ;;; she looks like the fuckin Momo challenge creature, absolute no go
Look, based on his reactions to losing his blanket, and the way he threatens Snoopy for stalking his blanket, I’m sayin’ Linus has yandere tendencies.
Loses his temper when Charlie repeatedly fails to speak to the little red-haired girl before she moved away
He keeps trying to play fetch with Snoopy but it never works
He keeps trying to get back at Lucy but it never works
Called Charlie a few times because he gets lonely and scared at night; https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1992/08/26 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1963/04/21 - (there were two more times where they spent the night at Charle’s)
Supports Snoopy’s career as an attorney and doctor (or at least plays along)
More and more Linus enjoys Snoopy’s company when the dog’s not being a nuisance: https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1995/03/16 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1996/10/08 idk it’s cute
Schroeder
Kissed Lucy on the cheek after she gave him a cupcake for Beethoven’s B-day https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1984/12/16 - I legitimately cannot explain this one as it is so supremely out of character; the best I can do is say he just went insane from Lucy’s delusional ramblings and general abuse or he just felt particularly generous during his beloved holiday
According to himself, is a bit serious : https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1983/01/01
Disapproves of Charlie being in love… I’m taking that out of context and will be interpreting it as jealousy; https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1990/09/12
Has cute interactions with Snoopy and Woodstock more frequently w/o much dialogue; https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1987/09/29 (this one is the wordiest)
https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1992/03/07 but unironically
They spend time together besides baseball still; https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1988/01/03 https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1988/04/18
Continues to support Charlie Brown https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1990/05/18, by calling him “low-key,” https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1988/03/29, and also doing this: https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1987/08/11 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1996/07/10 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1996/07/16 (I think he checked on Charlie before some time ago when Charlie was hurt too but I’m unsure) - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1996/10/03 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1996/10/04 [so sweet] - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1994/08/05 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1997/06/21
Is sarcastic to Charlie Brown still but hey, pretty nice considering things: https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1990/08/24 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1993/04/18
He starts becoming more blunt in the later comics and pulling the piano from under Lucy
https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1993/08/08 there’s something Schroelie here but I can’t quite figure it out - context wise, Charlie is still “dating” Peggy Jean at this time and is also pushing his luck with the red haired girl
Schroelie: https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1993/03/21
He likes to walk up and say random shit to Charlie Brown: https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1993/04/06 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1995/09/25 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1996/04/28 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1990/07/12 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1997/05/03
Bruh he has tinnitus 😭😭😭 https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1995/06/17 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1995/05/14 -
Breaks the 4th wall the most; see the comments https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1997/03/16
Lucy
Still an ass but is somewhat warmer to Charlie now; they kinda sit around and talk sometimes or she offers to help; https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1996/03/10 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1997/04/13 - https://www.gocomics.com/peanuts/1984/08/19
Did the occasional marriage-imagines with Charlie back in the day
I think she enjoys reading Snoopy’s fictional work despite always criticizing it
She’s starting to hang around Snoopy more
I’m now on Jan 1, 1998. What the fuck am I doing.
#peanuts#charlie brown x schroeder#Schroeder#Lucy van pelt#peanuts Marcie#peppermint patty#Charlie Brown x Linus van pelt#schroeder x lucy van pelt#charlinus#schroelie#peppermint patty x marcie#peppermint patty x Charlie Brown x Marcie#Charlie brown x peppermint patty#Charlie brown x Marcie#Patricia Reinhardt
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Lanterns
Part 2
Disclaimer: If the timeline becomes confusing, remember my universe has time loops -> places where the time has been stopped. Tortuga is one of those places, it's stuck on the past behind a thin veil, while the present goes on as normal.
Summary: A Goddess who lost her faith, trying to get back to her senses so her family doesn't fall apart.
Warnings: ???nothing?? I think??
Taglist: @malarkgirlypop, @bucky32557038ww2 (if you want in or out, just tell me!)
-> Image below found here.
The day after the storm was calm. If it wasn't for Blithe, peacefully floating along the current, no one would even know about the gale of last night. Pacing around the main deck, all the damage was now visible.
"The mizzen really is broken", the Captain sighed, his hand on his hip as he lookesd up, wondering what exactly happened to it. "Cheer up, boys, we'll be makin' way to port earlier."
Peggy marched along the bow, sniffing whatever was left of the things caught up in thes raging battle against the weather. She was more than happy to find a dead fish, looking around before gulping the thing down - it didn't try to escape, which means it was food.
"Whatcha got there, big girl?", one of the crewmates asked, but it was too late. Being caught, Peggy simply ran off with her prise, leaving him to wonder what the fuck was up with that dog.
"Hey, Rodion, c'mere." The Captains voice was rough and the man quickly went to his service, following his glance. "What'dya think? We make it to Tortuga or stop earlier?"
"Earlier. Our sails are all ragged and we'd need a couple days far from trouble to get it all fixed."
The Captain felt defeated. He wanted to make the trip as quickly as possible and make port back in Tortuga before the end of the year, to properly celebrate, but he knew his impatience was what got them all in truble in the first place.
The ship creacked along, tilted a bit to the side. They still had enough water and food for weeks, but old Blithe wouldn't be able to make it to Tortuga - specially if they ended up in the middle of another gale or, may the Gods forbide, ended up face to face with a Man O' War.
"CHEER UP, JEREMY!", the First Mate yelled, far above them, sitting in the main mast's crow nest. She didn't exactly show up yesterday, which fuelled even more the Captains rage. He needed a break (and would've gotten one in Tortuga, dammit!).
Her smile was wide as she pushed herself from the edge of the nest, free falling for most part before opening her wings wide to glide the rest of the way down. The woman had a flask of some good ol' whisky in hand as she opened her arms, maybe to try and hug Jeremy's angryness out.
"Don't", he simply said, putting his hand up to stop her. "Where exactly was you last night, Athena?"
"Hmmm... wanderin'..."
The way she didn't even flinch while flat out saying she abandoned her crew had Jeremy really missing his old days in the Royal Navy - keel hauling would be very welcomed sometimes. But he couldn't simply keelhaul Athena. She'd break free - and damn him once again.
"Lis'en, Cap'n, I ain't lyin' to ya. I flew off. BUT!" And she put two of her fingers up, one of each hand, to stop him from speaking. "Good news is we're not far from some whatever-the-fuck town. We all can rest, get the Mizzen and whate'er else fixed, spend some money....... Jeremy, why ye lookin' a' me like tha'?"
"You flew off 'n left us in the middle of a gale. A big one. Why wouldn't I look at ye like this?" he almost growled. Athena wasn't impresesed.
"Look, Jerry, mate... sometimes things are just... ehh" she was saying, as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. "I wasn't feelin' it, ya know?"
"Someone could've died, Athena."
"What would I do? Is Enoch's job to bury people! Gods, Cap'n, ye're as hard as a rock, aren't ya? E'ery last man is still standin'. No one died. We win!"
Jeremy was gathering all his strenght not to punch her right in the face with his iron hand; he knew that was just how Athena was. She was the Death Goddess, for Her sake, would she really care if a few peoples died?
He knew the answer: she loved her crew more than she loved booze, herself or flying. She'd give up both her wings for them. After all, she found a safe place for them to stay... but it didn't excuse the fact that she ran away without telling anyone. Again.
"Fiona, keep that mizzenmast in place, will ye?", he finally said, turning his attention away from Athena to look at the girl.
She was entertained in making little flower buds grow out of Peggy's fur, almost missing the order. She quickly got back on her feet, silent as always, while making her way to the mizzen. The plan was simple: make vines strong enough to keep it in place 'till they docked.
"Athy, wasn't 'cause of you flying away that your ol' crew did a mutiny? Wasn't it your daughter's orders?", Rodion asked, a playfull smirk on his face as the First Mate turned on her heels to look at him.
"Shut yer trap, bastard" she oushed him away, making the man laugh. "Get yer ass back in line, boy."
"As you wish, Mama Bird", he winked, then laughed his way towards one of the Captain's mates, Sirius, who didn't seem all that awake while steering the wheel.
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The rain and storm may not have killed or seriosly injured anyone, but it still made some victims to a cold. Pangey, for one, couldn't stop running around the lower deck, trying to get at least somethings in place so she could find the medicine.
"Do a potion", a woman said, making her almost jump. "We got some herbs and stuff, it'll work better".
"Miss Serpens, ya almost scared me to death", the other, with one hand above her heart, took a deep breath trying to calm herself. "Besides, I don't know how to make 'em and the crew aren't really all that inclined to wait. I'm just a medic, not some witch."
"Lucky for you, I am." Hydra had a sweet smile on her face. Pangey stood still, watching while she gathered a cauldron and enough stuff to use.
Pan didn't know any of the ingredients, but she still stayed there, against the ships counter, paying attention while the Goddess hung up her stuff and, with a little snap of her fingers, made a small spark light the coal and wood below on fire.
It was ingrained in Hydra's memory. She grew up loving potions and always tried something new - well, at least when her mom would let her, anyway. She used to do some harmless pranks on her brother - Sirius' face when one day he drank some tea and immediately started coughing up moths never failled to make her laugh. Granted, he never again accepted anything she gave him to drink or eat.
The lower deck was badly lighted by some lanterns, attached to the ship by chains so they wouldn't fall and break - yet, yesterday some still did. Everything was a mess that needed cleaning, but with half the crew ill, it would need to wait.
Pangey couldn't for the life of her seem to figure out where was the medicine box, amidst all the chaos. She didn't even noticed the way Hydra looked at her, while making somewhat funny faces trying to catch any memory of how the box was. They were all the same.
"Don't beat yourself up, dear", Hydra said as she grabbed a knife to cut up some of the herbs. "We don't really need them now. I'll make them feel better, you can catch a break."
"Still, i was never like this, so careless with the essentials. I always had something on me... that little bag, you remember? I forgot where it was."
"Down below", a boy said, looking almost greenish as he sat close to them.
"Where?"
"Laying with Davy Jones", he pushed his glasses in place. His hair was neatly put, not a single strand out of place - even when feeling bad, Horace could not bear the thought of presenting himself badly or even close to messy. "Hydra, is it finished yet...? I am dying here."
"The water is just now boiling, boy, you'll have to wait."
"But my nose is all... stuffed. I can't breathe well! And my throat hurts. Badly."
"Then maybe you need to shut the fuck up, it'll hurt less", another boy said as he passed, going up the stairs before Horace could even think of an answer.
"Oh, dammit. Why don't we just toss him overboard?"
"Because..." Hydra stopped, knife in the air, playful. "Enoch's important. And you know how things are: kill one of his and you are dammned for the rest of your life."
"I hate curses... almost as much as i hate having my nose all closed up! Pangeyyyy, help a guy out! I'm dying over here!"
"I wish, darling. We have no meds for now, you'll have to drink her stuff."
"Fuck."
Horace hated to admit that it worked in about half an hour. The potion acted quickly and he was feeling better in no time - which meant that everyone else was up too and the ship could finally be put in order again.
"Dammit, I found the meds", Pangey huffed, as soon as she began moving boxes. "Be real, Miss Serpens, you just put some spell on me so you could make a potion, right?"
"Not really", Hydra smiled. Pangey wasn't really sure if she could believe this one. "But now you know how to make a quick potion for colds, don't you? I see this as a win-win kind of situation".
"Gods do really love messin' around, don't they?"
"We do. But I wouldn't mess around with people's health. Believe me, if I knew where these meds were hiding, I'd use them."
She helped Pan push the box back to the infirmary, wich had it's door broken yesterday and sent all it's contents flying all over the room.
The two of them didn't really speak while working on puting stuff back in place - 'till Pangey turned to her and asked: "Miss Serpens, aren't you sad we'll not make it to Tortuga for yer Holiday?"
"Hum. Night of Libero Sanctis?", she shook her shoulders. "I wish we could celebrate it there, but Blithe needs to have a check up, right girl?" she pat the ship's wall, smiling as if it could understand the Goddess. Everyone had a slight feeling that Blithe did, almost like their own little surpestition. "At least we'll be together anyway, Panpan. That's what that night is about, not some silly trip to the beach."
"And definetely not about having to hear Miss Ezebel, 'ight?", Pangey raised her eyebrows, catching Hydra make a face.
"Yeah, definetely. Woudn't like sharing my special day with that harlot. Constance can have her island all to herself, I don't mind."
"Especially after this fucking storm."
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Peggy poked her head around the corner, making sure no one was looking as she skipped around with a sword between her teeth, tail violently wagging again.
It would be a problem to however found the dog and her new toy.
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#hmmmmmmmm friendships#athena being an ass as usual#(can't blame her she's fucking stupid)#P E G G Y#oc#original story#original characters#🥨🪶
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The Armistice (Tales From The SSR)
Summary: During a standard evening of work focusing on their secret investigation into Michael Carter’s file, Jack and (Y/N) clash before ultimately coming to a mutual understanding (Chapter 5 of Specs and the Flyboy in Jack’s POV)
Pairing: Jack Thompson X Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Warning/Disclaimers: None
A/N: Originally, I only intended on rewriting a portion of Chapter 5 but I got a little carried away and rewrote the entire thing from Jack’s POV lol to be fair, this chapter is such an interesting turning point for both characters, so I really couldn’t resist! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!
The Armistice
October 1947
West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles
(Previous One-Shot)
With an exaggerated yawn, Jack stretched the aching muscles in his arms and glanced down at his wristwatch. “Hey, Sousa, I think I’m gonna head out a few minutes early.”
Daniel looked up from the paperwork he was signing with a small knowing smile. “On a Friday? Let me guess, you finally decided to make the most of your time in Los Angeles and by some strange miracle snagged yourself a date?”
“Nope,” Jack replied, standing and crossing the chief’s office to retrieve his jacket from the corner coat rack. “Today just took a lot out of me and I’m lookin’ forward to having a nice, long nap out by Stark’s pool.”
“Yeah, sitting around doing nothin’ but whining about our new codebreaker must’ve really exhausted you.” The chief’s voice was dripping with sarcasm but his dark eyes glimmered with amusement as he gave him a small wave. “I’ll see you bright and early on Monday, Thompson.”
After wishing Daniel a good weekend, Jack walked out of the chief’s office and through the bullpen as the other agents prepared to leave; he passed by Agent (Y/L/N)’s overly-cluttered desk and bit back a smirk of amusement at the sight of the codebreaker struggling to shove a handful of files into her disorganized briefcase, taking a small amount of pleasure in her annoyance before their scheduled meeting and the closeness they’d be forced to endure for the next several hours. He left the Auerbach Theatrical Agency and strolled down the street to lean against a lamppost and wait for his reluctant partner to emerge. When she finally did, he heaved a sigh of exasperation when he saw how stiff her posture was and the way her fingers of her free hand twitched against her skirt as she furtively glanced around at the other pedestrians on the sidewalk; (Y/L/N) may be a decent codebreaker but she’s got a lot to learn about espionage, he thought to himself, shaking his head and waiting for her to get into her emerald-green Fleetmaster before pushing himself off the lamppost.
“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy.” Jack smirked as he got into the passenger seat of her car and adjusted his fedora. “You fidget too much.”
Predictably, (Y/N) pursed her lips and rolled her eyes in annoyance at his critique. “Hello to you too, Flyboy. I think I’m closer to cracking the first code on page three, but I need to take a glance at some of my translation journals; Peggy kept stopping by my desk to talk, so I didn’t get as much done as I wanted to today.” She pulled away from the curb and began driving down the bustling Los Angeles street. “Did you find anything on Michael yet?”
“While Sousa was out getting lunch, I finally got into contact with my buddy Jeff in D.C. and he confirmed that both the British Armed Forces and the SOE listed him as MIA. I also got those files I requested last week from London, so we can take a look at ‘em over dinner.” He felt a surge of annoyance as he thought about the diner they’d been forced to conduct their secret investigation out of and before he could stop himself, he huffed out an agitated breath and demanded, “Explain to me again why we can’t do all this back at your place?”
“Because, my building manager doesn’t allow men on the premises. And we can’t do it at yours because Jarvis’ll tell Peg about it in a heartbeat, so we’ll just have to make-do with the diner until we find a new place.”
While (Y/N) pointedly ignored him in favor of focusing on the road ahead, Jack’s jaw clenched in agitation and kept himself occupied with one of the files, skimming over Michael Carter’s brief but distinguished service record and biting his lip as he pondered the typed ‘MIA’ notice at the bottom of the last page. They parked down the street from her apartment building and walked down the sidewalk together to the diner but when they reached the front entrance, there was a sign posted onto the door stating that they were closed due to a family emergency.
“Dammit,” Jack swore to himself and turned to face (Y/N) with his hands on his hips. “What now?”
The codebreaker looked about as exasperated as Jack felt, exhaling through her nose and tapping the toe of her high-heel against the pavement in indecision before releasing an agitated sigh. “All right, we’ll go to my place but you need to follow my instructions to the letter. If we get caught, I’ll be homeless and your ass’ll be grass, got it?”
Jack flashed her an amused smirk, thoroughly entertained by the situation unfolding before them. “Understood. Do you have a plan or do I need to come up with one myself?”
“No, it’s okay, I wouldn’t want you to overwork yourself or anything,” (Y/N) shot back and his jaw clenched tight in annoyance. “There’s a fire escape on the side of my apartment building, climb up to the second story and open the window but be careful, the hinges are a little rusty. Once you’re in, don’t make any sound until I can switch on my radio to mask our voices and don’t touch anything.”
After promising to follow her lead, Jack made his way around the back of the apartment building and checked to make sure that no one was watching before climbing up the rickety fire escape; she just has to live in a women-only apartment building, he inwardly grumbled as he crouched down and nudged the second-story window open, I feel like a goddamn creep. He was halfway into (Y/N)’s apartment when the door unlocked and the codebreaker stepped through the doorway, but the both of them froze when they heard the muffled voice of an older woman calling (Y/N)’s last name.
“Miss (Y/L/N)!”
(Y/N) shot Jack a panicked look but kicked into action after he gestured for her to hurry up, hastily stepping back out into the hallway and shutting the door behind her; Jack, taking advantage of the brief distraction, jumped into the apartment and crossed the room in three long strides to the wardrobe. “Jesus, this is low even for you…” Jack grumbled to himself before climbing up into the wardrobe and closing the door, a light blush reluctantly blossoming across his face when he realized that several pastel-colored satin nightgowns were brushing up against his arm. Awkwardly pushing the hangars further down the wardrobe’s bar, Jack forced himself to pay attention to the conversation happening out in the hallway.
“Yes, Mrs. Espinoza?”
“You’re home early, Miss (Y/L/N). Are you alone?”
“Of course, Mrs. Espinoza; I’m not feeling too well, so they sent me home a couple of hours early. I didn’t want Mr. Auerbach seeing me look so peaky.” Jack’s brows shot up in surprise as she continued. “He deserves to have a secretary who looks her best, wouldn’t you say?”
Mrs. Espinoza fell right into (Y/N)’s cleverly-concocted trap, the tone of her voice shifting from suspicion to motherly concern in an instant. “Yes, of course, dear! You go right to bed, you hear me?”
When Jack was sure that the landlady had walked away and heard (Y/N) reenter her apartment, he stepped out of the wardrobe and smirked at the frazzled expression on the codebreaker’s face. “I can’t believe she bought that load of crap; ‘He deserves to have a secretary who looks her best’?”
(Y/N) reluctantly smiled at his near-perfect imitation of her voice. “She’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the bunch, is she? But she’s a hell of a force to be reckoned with if she catches you.” After double checking that the door was locked, she crossed the small living room and switched on the radio, tuning it until she landed on a lively swing number and cranking the volume up. “That should mask our voices, but try not to make too much noise.”
Jack joined her at the small kitchen table and the pair quickly dove into their work; (Y/N)’s many codebooks were spread out before her and the tip of her pencil scribbled across the notepad as she worked through the codes written in Michael Carter’s original file, her reading glasses slipping down her nose and her brow furrowed in deep concentration, and Jack skimmed through the stack of files he’d requested from London. He occasionally read certain sections of the files aloud not just for the codebreaker’s benefit, but to distract himself from the feeling of awkwardness that started to grow the moment he realized that it was the first time they’d been completely alone with one another since their volatile fight several weeks back. Although they’d both said some horrible things to one another, even he had to admit that he might’ve crossed the line one or two times; in an ironic twist of fate, however, Jack discovered as their evening progressed that the only other thing that helped him keep his mind off the unresolved tension was nitpicking the messy state of his reluctant partner’s apartment.
“Geez, they didn’t teach you SSR operatives how to clean during the war?” Jack whistled low as he surveyed the cluttered coffee table, the clothes flung haphazardly over the changing screen in the corner and the dirty dishes piled high in the kitchen sink, and he quietly snickered when (Y/N) clenched her jaw but remained silent as she diligently worked through another code. “The Navy would’ve chewed you guys up before you could say ‘specs.’” The grumbling of his own stomach spurred him to leave the disorderly table and look for something to eat in the kitchen; unfortunately, the refrigerator was empty save for a half-empty bottle of milk and a block of butter. “You got any food in this joint?”
“Nothing that’s cooked; my neighbor down the hall sometimes comes in and cooks dinners for the week in exchange for hair styling lessons, but she’s been busy visiting her grandfather in the hospital.” Jack smirked in triumph as he closed the refrigerator door and met (Y/N)’s confused gaze across the room. “What?”
“Finally, something I can do that you can’t, Specs.” Chuckling, Jack retrieved the ingredients he needed to make a quick spaghetti dinner from her half-stocked pantry and explained, “My ma taught me when I was a kid; she always said that the women in my life would have better things to do than slave away in the kitchen for me.”
(Y/N)’s brow arched in surprise and while Jack switched on her stove to boil a pot of water, a reluctant smile played across her lips. “…Your ma’s a smart lady.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, with (Y/N) working through the codes in Michael’s file and Jack preparing dinner with one hand while flicking through the remaining files he’d requested with the other. A part of him hated the surge of satisfaction he experienced when the codebreaker praised his cooking and finished her dinner in record time, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good to take someone as intelligent and equally-judgmental as (Y/N) by surprise; he also hated to admit that the two of them – despite their clashing personalities and general dislike of one another – worked incredibly well with one another. Who’da thought that the dame who threatened to shoot me not too long ago would voluntarily sneak me into her apartment and sit down for a spaghetti dinner, Jack thought with an inward snicker as he flipped over the page of the file he was reading through.
“I’ve got it!”
At (Y/N)’s exclamation, Jack quickly looked up to see the codebreaker’s triumphant grin and the scribble-filled sheet of paper in her hand. “You cracked it?”
“The first code’s a name and address! Aaron Templeton, 68452 Ashbury Way, Los Angeles, California.” She removed her reading glasses and while she was busy considering the decoded address, she didn’t notice Jack standing and donning his jacket. “That’s near the docks, so it’s probably a warehouse. Maybe there’s a-wait, what are you doing?”
“I’m gonna go check out that address,” Jack nonchalantly replied as he scooped up his files.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it!” In an instant, the codebreaker was standing between him and the open window with her arms tightly crossed over her chest. “I’m going with you.”
Jack let out a dismissive snort. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am!” Impatient, Jack tried to move past her but she quickly blocked his way again. “You seriously think it’s a good idea to go in there without backup?”
“’Course not, but I’d rather go in without backup than have you getting in my way and screwing everything up.”
The codebreaker’s (Y/E/C) eyes narrowed in anger. “Need I remind you that I’ve also been trained to go on missions?”
“So has Samberly, what’s your point?”
“My point is that I can help you, but you’re too much of a stubborn ass to admit that I’m anything more than a codebreaker!”
A sudden knock on the apartment door cut through the tension and both Jack and (Y/N) blanched when a woman’s voice called out, “You okay, (Y/N)? I thought I heard voices!”
“I-I was just listening to a radio program, Shelly, I’m sorry if the noise disturbed you!” (Y/N) lied, wincing at the overly-cheerful tone present in her voice and shooting Jack a glare when he stifled an exasperated sigh. “I’ll be sure to turn it down!”
Both waited with bated breath for the woman to reply. “Okay!”
When her footsteps faded away as she walked down the hall to her own apartment, (Y/N) turned back to face Jack with her jaw set in stubborn determination. “Like it or not, Flyboy, I’m the best and only help you’ve got. If you don’t want it, then good luck finding another codebreaker.”
Jack gritted his teeth in irritation as the truth of her words started to set in. He’d spent weeks trying to find someone who could decode Michael Carter’s secret messages until he finally broke down and was forced to approach (Y/N); as much as she annoyed the living daylights out of him, her expertise in the field of codebreaking was simply unparalleled and finding a codebreaker as skilled as her would be hell for him. Heaving a displeased sigh, Jack eventually gave her a sharp nod. “Fine. You can come but you follow my lead, got it?”
The codebreaker let out a snort of derision and raised her hand up to her temple to give him a sarcastic salute. “Yes, sir, Lieutenant Junior Grade, sir.”
“Okay then, smart-ass, let’s get going…” Pushing past her, Jack opened the apartment window and stepped out onto fire escape, but his frown deepened when he realized that (Y/N) was following him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I gave Mrs. Espinoza that cockamamie story about being sick, remember? I can’t just waltz down there and pretend to suddenly feel better, now, can I?” After slipping her coat on, (Y/N) thrust her clutch purse into Jack’s arms and hiked her skirt up so that she could climb out onto the fire escape, unintentionally giving him a good look at her stocking-clad legs and causing him to hastily look away before she could catch a glimpse of his appreciative expression. She smoothed out the wrinkles of her skirt and took her clutch back from him before giving him an expectant look. “You wanted to lead the way, so lead the way.”
Jack pursed his lips and threw her a glare as he started to climb down the rickety fire escape. This is gonna be a long goddamn night, he inwardly grumbled to himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The drive across downtown to the docks was relatively quiet, with Jack observing the glitzy nightlife going on at the various restaurants, bars and dancing clubs they passed by and (Y/N) focusing on navigating the hectic and never-ending Los Angeles traffic. She parked the emerald-green Fleetmaster a handful of blocks away from the address she’d decoded and after ensuring that their weapons were loaded, they got out and traveled the rest of the way on foot; the dimly-lit streets were deserted, but Jack remained on edge just in case they were unknowingly walking into some sort of lair or trap, his eyes scanning the rooftops and windows of the buildings surrounding them for any sharpshooters.
“Do you respect Peggy Carter?”
Jack halted and looked over at (Y/N) in perplexity. “Yeah? Why’re you asking?”
“Humor me for a moment, please.” He watched in growing confusion as the codebreaker squared her shoulders and continued. “Since our respect for Peggy Carter is the one thing we can agree on, I propose a truce. We work on this case as partners, equal in every aspect of the investigation, and we put aside our personal gripes with one another in order to successfully solve the case for her. Once we accomplish that, you’ll return to New York and we’ll never have to see one another again for the rest of our lives.” She held her hand out for him to shake and his brows shot up in surprise. “Do we have a deal, Chief Thompson?”
Jack hesitated for a moment before giving her hand the briefest of shakes; a mutual armistice was the logical resolution to all the unresolved tension between them, and he couldn’t help but feel gratitude that he didn’t have to be the one to call for a truce first. “It’s a deal, Agent (Y/L/N).” Awkwardly clearing his throat, Jack dropped her hand and turned to look at the building directly ahead of them that bore the address his partner had decoded earlier that evening. “All the windows on the north side are boarded up, looks like the fire escapes are a little worse for wear, too. I’ll take the left, you take the right; look for some kind of entrance we can use to get in.” He glanced down at the clutch in (Y/N)’s hand and inwardly winced as he recalled a not-so-distant memory of the codebreaker pulling the gun that was hidden within it on him. “Might wanna get that gun of yours out, too.”
With his revolver clutched in his hand, Jack tiptoed along the left side of the building and his senses were on high alert for any suspicious activity nearby. A blurry shape darted across the sidewalk in front of him and caused him to raise his weapon, quickly lowering it and releasing a huff of annoyance when he realized that it was only a storm-grey cat; I’m more out of practice than I thought, Jack silently admitted as he squared his shoulders and rounded the corner to see (Y/N) standing near a partially ajar door. He reached the codebreaker in three long strides and raised his revolver at the ready, darting into the building as soon as she flung the door open and proceeding to check each of the building’s four floors for any potential signs of danger. “All clear,” Jack announced as he stepped out onto the first-floor landing and tucked his revolver back into his holster. “Looks like this Aaron Templeton guy’s not home.”
“In that case, we should be quick.” (Y/N) slipped her gun into her clutch and looked around the dilapidated first floor. “You take the top two floors and I’ll take the bottom two; if you find anything, just holler for me.”
Jack silently nodded before making his way back up the staircase to look for any clues; the building was comprised of rotting wood and rusted pipes that leaked steady drips of dirty water onto the run-down furniture, and after searching the fourth floor, he started to wonder if the coded address had less meaning than they both attached to it. He stepped into one of the third-floor bedrooms, wrinkling his nose at the mold-coated mattress and the smell of dank mildew wafting up from the drenched carpet, but a crate sitting on the desk by the boarded-up window gave him pause and he cautiously approached it. It looked like any number of standard wooden crates, but Jack frowned when he spotted the familiar symbol – a rearing house surrounded by vines – that was neatly etched onto its lid. “Up here, (Y/L/N)!” He waited until the codebreaker appeared at the doorway before continuing. “I think I found something you might recognize.”
(Y/N) quirked a brow at that, but she carefully stepped over piles of debris to join him on the other side of the room; a look of recognition crossed her features as she studied the symbol. “The bank robbery; this was the symbol that was etched onto that device we took custody of a few weeks back. Chief Sousa closed the case the other day, said there was a lack of evidence and credible witnesses to justify keeping it open.” The codebreaker glanced back up at him. “You don’t think…?”
“Yeah, I do.” Jack pointed to the scrap of paper that sat on the desk beside the empty crate. “The time and date of the robbery, along with the bank’s street address. It looks like we might’ve just found the home of one of our bank robbers.”
(Y/N) nodded in agreement. “In that case, we need to take another look at that case and we need someone to re-examine the device.” Her finger gently traced the etching as she sighed, masking the troubled look in her (Y/E/C) eyes with a forced smile. “Unfortunately, I have just the man in mind…”
Recalling what he’d seen in the codebreaker’s file, Jack groaned and rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Goddammit. Just once, I’d like to work a case without the involvement of Howard Stark.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: It’s fun writing Asshole Jack Thompson knowing where he ends up in terms of Specs lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new one-shot! Enjoy!
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0iKzLZlEK1rTaSIiW5zRlk?si=483950cfa991442a
“Tales From The SSR” Masterlist
“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist
Tagging: @nnon-it-up @hufflefluffy @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @coffeeandcrimeshows @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @fannyspammy @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @nincompoopydoo @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley @mostclevermiss @crowleysqueenofhell @groovyqueer @xxruinaxxmcu
#tales from the ssr#specs and the flyboy#jack thompson x reader#jack thompson x f!reader#jack thompson#chief thompson#peggy carter#agent carter#daniel sousa#chief sousa#howard stark#edwin jarvis#ana jarvis#rose roberts#michael carter#strategic scientific reserve#marvel cinematic universe
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ough...my wednesdays...they've been wipped
kicking off a wip wednesday with a little bit of katc and a little bit of th&tw for your reading pleasure today (altho warnings for vomiting in the first snippet and uh...allusions to murder in the second)
tagging @inafieldofdaisies, @theresaruggedroad, @wrathfulrook, @madparadoxum, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @strangefable, @jillvalentinesday, @adelaidedrubman, @g0dspeeed, @gaeadene, @ivymarquis, @aceghosts, @voidika, @confidentandgood, @purplehairsecretlair, @cassietrn, @neverthesameneveranother, @deputyash, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @trench-rot, @euryalex, @clonesupport, @josephslittledeputy, @alexxmason, and anyone else with something to share (and again, here's the opt-in/opt-out of wip tags post which i'll be using starting in october)
An already quick drive is made even quicker by her lead foot. She speeds out of town, roaring down the empty roads. If she believed in such things, she might’ve considered it a miracle that she doesn’t come across any Project trucks along her way, but she’ll take the good fortune where she can. There’s a distinct pit in her gut that tells her such luck will be in short supply in the coming days.
She pulls into the driveway and her stomach drops when she realizes that Augustine’s Jeep is nowhere to be seen. Dammit. There was a part of her that desperately hoped he was able to make it home and hunker down until she got there.
Apparently God’s good will doesn’t extend quite that far.
Throwing herself out of the car, she staggers up the front steps and through the door that hangs ajar off its hinges. Immediately, she’s on high alert, a shot of adrenaline pumping through her veins and dulling the pain in her gut. She pulls her sidearm from the holster at her thigh and carefully proceeds inside, prepared to clear her home of any and all threats.
Broken glass from the windows crunches under her boots, and the entire place has been torn apart. The kitchen cupboards are thrown open, thoroughly cleaned of all non-perishable goods. The refrigerator is in a similar state, door wide open while the food left behind already smells like it’s beginning to spoil. The television screen has been smashed and couch cushions have been thrown to the floor.
Peggie handiwork, no doubt.
She moves through the house, into the bathroom, but something nags at the back of her mind. The Hell were they lookin’ for? The pantry raiding, she understands, but why rip apart the living room? She files that question away to ponder later. The pain in her abdomen is nigh unbearable, and before she can open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, she’s vomiting beer and bar food into the sink.
Every heave and cough only makes it worse. She fumbles with the faucet, turning the knob to wash away the mess. With her head still bowed, a trembling hand reaches out to pilfer the cabinet. But as she gropes blindly for the bottle of Tylenol she remembers buying, she finds that these shelves have also been emptied.
She sucks in deep, gasping breaths and lifts her head. Through bleary eyes, she finds all her prescriptions gone as well.
The only thing left behind is Augustine’s emergency box of Claritin.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, really?”
and some of the horror and the wild
She leans up against the car, pulls a carton of cigarettes from her uniform’s breast pocket, and lights up. Extending the carton to Staci, he gratefully takes one and she holds out her lighter for him as well. They stand, smoking in silence for a long moment before she heaves a sigh and exhales a thick plume of smoke. “Somethin’ ‘bout this don’t sit right,” she says.
“I’ve lived here all my life. Never seen anything like that,” Staci says. He rolls his cigarette between his fingers, looking at her anxiously from the corner of his eyes. “You really think a wolf could’ve done all that?”
“On the record? Couldn’t say,” she shrugs. “But off?” She sighs heavily and shakes her head. “Ain’t no way this was just a wolf -- or even a pack of them.”
“What do you mean?”
They watch as the pieces of Chad are carried from his cabin in a body bag.
“I ain’t sayin’ there weren’t an animal attack,” she starts, “but wolves ain’t exactly known for B’n’E -- whole no-thumbs thing makes it kinda hard. Besides, weren’t no glass on the floor from the windows; the only thing broken down was the front door -- which I will remind you is made of fortified steel -- and on top of that, Chad ain’t exactly easy prey. Why would some wolves go to the trouble, expend that much energy tryin’ to get inside a cabin to go after a strong, healthy man when there are weak, sick deer that are much easier to catch?”
“What do you think happened, then?”
“Need more evidence before I can say anything for certain, but -- gut instinct -- I’d say someone broke down the door and let the wolves in.”
Staci’s eyes go wide. “You think this was murder?”
“Like I said, we need more evidence, but this sure as Hell feels targeted to me. Someone wanted Chad dead and they didn’t want it easily traced back to them.”
Pratt blinks and exhales deeply, sliding down against the cruiser. “Pack of wolves as a murder weapon,” he breathes with disbelief. “Fucking Montana.”
#y'all remember in katc ch2 when jacob made a note to deprive syb of her meds?#yeah :) girl can't even find painkillers :)#meanwhile in the werewolf au syb's got her detective cap on#anyway. wips be upon ye#wip wednesday
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A Little Insecurity
Something is bothering Eli Palmer, and he finally musters up the courage to ask Cappie about it.
An Eli Palmer & Cappie De La Costa snippet 💕
*Contains sexual references
The green glow from the wall of surveillance screens set for a strange mood, as did the unnatural orange of the box mac-n-cheese in their bowls, vivid even in the shadows of the Wolf's Den. Not quite the romantic ambiance that Eli Palmer preferred to set with one Cappie De La Costa, but a long night in a hidden militia bunker during a cult holy war called for such amenities, and well, she was willing to compromise.
Cappie was actually pretty content for the most part, chowing down on the simple meal–bowl number four– as if it was a fine delicacy. Eli supposed that in a sad way it was, for Cappie had been running about Hope County for the past two days, smuggling and raising all sorts of hell for the Project, and Eli could put money down that she seldom ate, unless it was to ingest some narcotic to keep her body moving.
"What's cookin', good lookin'?" she drawled with a lop-sided smile, her scar upticked as she caught him staring.
Eli smiled back, sheepish and shy, but then glanced down at his plastic bowl of macaroni. A growing concern of his itched at his brain, crept in whenever he was alone, allowed to fester in the depths of Eli's insecurities.
"Been wondering somethin' and I want you to be honest with me about it, okay?," he started.
At the serious tone in his voice, Cappie turned to fully face him in her chair, her arm grazing his before it settled on the back of his seat.
"'Kay," she murmured.
Despite himself, he felt a slow, creeping warmth grace the apples of his cheeks. Her frown didn't help. Eli swallowed.
"Cap," tried Eli.
"Elijah."
He sighed.
"Do I, shit, do I look like a Peggie to you?"
Cappie's reaction was less than inspiring. That full-lipped frown of hers deepened to a thoughtful pout and her brow furrowed tight between her gorgeous emerald eyes. Eli felt like such an idiot the moment he asked, a lame dread weighing down in his gut, made lamer still by the silence that stretched on and on with each passing second.
Then, Cappie shrugged and scooped another bite of mac-n-cheese into her pretty mouth.
"I mean, by long hair and beard alone? Kinda, but then I look into your dark, sadass eyes and imagine that handsome mug of yours between my legs and think 'Nah, no way a man as sexy as that ain't a temptation', which I think goes against Peggie ideology, right? Plus, ya got a firm ass, so, maybe you got the hair of a Peggie, fine, but you're way too fun and hot to me, Eli, to be a cultist. Cultists ain't fun and you're the funnest man I ever met!"
With a wink, Cappie continued eating their dinner, her answer warming his drumming heart. Eli smiled to himself before finishing his own bowl. His body then stretched in the chair, brown eyes befalling the several surveillance screens.
"Wanna fuck?" he whispered.
"Mhm, you betcha, handsome."
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but not alone
in a shocking twist i really was able to finish this on time for it to be a birthday gift to myself lmao -- done with 2 minutes on the clock
some background: i watched "why didn't they ask evans?", remembered i adored agatha christie novels, and immediately had to try writing this. depending on what you guys think and my Life schedule i may write part 2 because the potential latter half of this plot is so fun it really deserves to see the light of day -- but anyway. The Premise: bucky didnt fall off the train, steve still sacrificed himself, and a whole lot of characters were born multiple decades earlier than in canon. a big thank you to @firstelevens and @parlegee for their emotional support and plotting help and also to @flyinghome-againstthewind for their lovely encouragement and enthusiasm re the fic concept! i wrote more, as promised, and here it is!
the title is from fellowship of the ring because i am insufferable, and every little comment and kudos makes my year
Summary: After the weird-looking carpet cleaner has whistled three times the man says,
“You don’t look like a German spy,” muttered, like he’s really thinkin’ about it.
“Seriously?” splutters Sam. He says this so forcefully that the other guy has the nerve to look a little offended. But now, come on – come on, Sam thinks. It’s a fair question. Only Sam’s been having a really difficult forty-eight hours, so he doesn’t appreciate it.
It’s here that something big and important feeling clicks in Sam’s head. He’s seen that scowl before – just yesterday, ignoring poor Miss Dollie.
And just this morning, in the papers plastered all over his motel lobby.
“Oh,” says Sam, “you gotta be kidding me.”
But alas, there’s no kidding to be had.
“From the paper – they think you killed him, man!”
Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes pales three shades under what little tan he has, but otherwise doesn’t react.
OR: Sam, Bucky, and a Post-War murder mystery that demands the power of friendship.
Excerpt:
The thing about Peggy is that she understands him, which is just a bitch and a half sometimes.
“You threw the weapon out.”
She’s repeating this, flatly, but with enough inflection that Bucky comprehends the are you perhaps a massive idiot implied therein. Peg would say it like that too — use perhaps and massive and arch her eyebrows.
Bucky presses his hands harder where they’re clutched at his temples and grimaces. “Look, I wasn’t thinking clearly, alright?”
“James.”
James, full name, not Jim like when she’s being chummy and of course Agent Margaret Carter of His Majesty’s Royal Service never quite got around to following Steve’s lead on the Bucky front. Bucky grimaces harder. Peggy will stare and be sardonic and, God help him suspicious until he explains.
“I dunno what you want me to say, Peg – it was there in the drawer and I couldn’t bear lookin’ at it anymore.”
Her resultant expression is just a touch too understanding for his taste.
“How the hell would I know that tossing a Colt into the Hudson in the middle of the night would get Howard killed?” Bucky adds, to move past it.
Minutely as possible Peggy flinches. Balls of steel, he’s always said. The other guys thought the same, but none of them had the guts to say it aloud. Speaking of other guys –
“Dugan’s coming over.”
“Like hell he is,” Bucky says.
Peggy takes an elegant drag of her cigarette. She’s sitting at the dull brown edge of his made-up bed and being careful enough that the ashes don’t spill. What difference that’ll make Bucky’s not sure. His apartment’s the definition of sad. Becca nearly cried last week when she visited, but then instead of crying yelled at him ‘til he relented and got a pillow.
“Evidently,” says Peggy, still on the topic of Dum-Dum, “he has not considered the double agent angle. His wife made you casserole.”
“Mm,” says Bucky, grim. He walks over to his meager kitchen, pulls a dusty bottle out from the cabinet and unscrews it. “Gonna get him killed one of these days.”
“Given my ongoing conviction that you are not in fact a spy –”
“Jury’s out on you though,” Bucky says, raising the bottle at her.
“-- you do realize that you are a prime suspect in the murder of our close personal friend.” She blows out. “If we can’t rely on our comrades, we’re rather fucked.”
“I am, you mean.”
Her mouth turns mulish and she looks away to the window then back. Maybe she did mean we, lumping the two of them under the tarp of some morbid umbrella. Steve’s dead and gone and sacrificed nobly, isn’t he.
“You didn’t kill Howard and he didn’t damn well kill himself,” says Peggy, steely. “I’d like to know which bastard did.”
Read More on ao3
#my writing#the falcon and the winter soldier#sam wilson#bucky barnes#captain america#the first avenger#agent carter#peggy carter#sarah wilson#howard stark#dum dum dugan#rebecca barnes#marvel#murder mystery au!!#tfatws fic#sam x bucky#sam x sarah#peggy x bucky#all platonic tho; this is a gen fic
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hey hey hey the birb is here with some titles for 💙👉✨stevetony✨👈❤️
(these are taken from some of my favorite poems/sonnets of all time, except for the last one, which is a tswift lyric)
- she must be his favorite place in brooklyn
- pack up the moon and dismantle the sun
- so i wait for you like a lonely house
- my selves go with you
- forever the name on my lips
pls only write these if you feel like it, as always. i hope you get well really really really soon, dearest alle. 🥺🫶
the birb, she calls herself like she doesn't know i'm always going to associate her with earl grey tea. i was originally going to put these in one post but then i decided not to so keep an eye out for other ones.
she must be his favorite place in brooklyn
there's a diner that steve likes to go to in brooklyn. it's owned by an old woman with white curly hair who's as quick with a snappy retort as tony is but always has a bright smile for steve. the diner itself is like being back in the 40s, exactly the way steve remembers them being before he went into the ice. when he comments on this, angie just laughs and says, "we've had to update a few times when the leather gets too cracked, but we try to keep it the same, you know?"
there's a picture of peggy on the wall.
steve notices that the first time he goes - her still-beautiful face smiling out of a frame next to angie herself.
"you been to see her yet?" angie asks him when she catches him looking. and then, when he starts to stammer out that he doesn't know what she's talking about, she laughs. "honey, i know exactly who you are. all those years, lookin' after peg, yeah, i'd remember that face."
and somehow, despite the fact that the food isn't amazing and the music isn't from the right era, he never tries going to a different diner.
for their first date, he takes tony to angie's. tony had asked him to take him to his favorite place in all of new york (that wasn't the tower, of course, since that was a given, it being where tony was and all that).
tony beams when steve introduces him to angie and never says a word when she shoehorns in on their date so she can tell him all about her adventures with peggy, and it isn't until they're leaving and steve apologizes that their date had been hijacked that tony bursts out laughing.
"she did it deliberately, steve!" he howls. "auntie peggy was my godmother, and you think i didn't know her best friend? she wanted to make sure you were good enough for me, so she tried to figure out if you'd force an old woman to leave so we could finish our date."
...yeah. that sounds exactly like angie. and there's nothing else for it, with tony laughing, bright and beautiful, so there, on the steps of his favorite place in brooklyn, he kisses him.
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If you are taking fem character asks to improve
Catwoman DC
Gamorra MCU
honestly any woman from the MCU now that I think about it
Catwoman DC- as with any catgirl, the more catlike you make her the better and I do NOT mean in a sexy way. She only drinks running water. You have to put her food in a little puzzle box so she doesn't eat it too quick and throws up. She has to take all medicine via topical treatments in her ear bc she Will Not take pills. She grooms her body hair and it DOES result in hairballs. Will fight other cat girls ON SITE unless you let them sniff each other through a gate first. Give her the zoomies at 3 am. Even just having her knock shit over while making eye contact just because will add some Spice u know.
Gamora MCU- THAT'S a woman that needs a weird fucking hobby. I'm gonna go ahead and say give her a DEEP passion for slime molds. Like it should go far enough that she endangers the crew to try and get new samples for her EXTENSIVE collection of Substances from all sorts of planets. I think her collection should be bodily harmful if it escapes containment too like there should be some that you cannot look directly at. And some of them should be REAL nasty lookin and they should be her favorites she should love her collection So So Much. She does feed one of them her blood a la little shop of horrors <3.
Any MCU woman- again, just give them fucking hobbies holy shit. Natasha Romanov is actually really into spiders and she breeds black widows. Not for weapons just for fun. I think it would be so fucking funny if there was an in universe GOOP that pepper potts ran holy shit. Elektra Natchios favorite flower is Orchids and I think they should lean into that and make her an expert on that like she wins award shows for her incredibly funky orchids (there are over 28,000 species of orchids and she's GOTTA catch em all). I actually think Peggy Carter is pretty cool already but I think you should make her waaay more into war history and not in a cool way. She knows So Many Facts about So Much Minutiae and only her and like 2 other people in the world care about said facts. Valkyrie already owns bones and one of the few things I actually liked in thor 4 was her little Phantom of the Opera shirt i would very much like to know more about Valkyrie being a theater geek. Hope Van Dyne? Honestly tbh honestly? Make her a bug furry. Really go whole hog with being "the wasp"
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@dontrequireyourhelp
“I don’t like the way that fella is lookin’ at me,” Bucky muttered to Peggy, shooting the British soldier at the other end of the bar an icy glare before she turned back to her glass of whiskey. “If he says some bullshit, I’ll do my best to ignore it, but I swear, if he tries to put his hands on me I’ll break ‘em, and I don’t give a damn if Colonel Phillips bawls me out for it. I’m sick of these men thinkin’ I’m easy and I’ll welcome ‘em manhandlin’ me with their sweaty paws. They need to keep their Goddamn distance.”
#tossing you a short thing while i work on the longer starter!#dontrequireyourhelp#c: peggy carter#v; sergeant barnes
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Found this file so here are some random lines mentioning Jess and a couple of my notes at the bottom. Under the cut because it’s long.
Presumably, from NPCs to prompt the player to find Jess, or possibly from other random GFHs:
I thought I saw a girl with a bow headin' towards the Lumber Mill. That place is just crawlin' with Peggies. Hope to hell she's okay.
These woods are no place for a girl. I don't care if she's got a bow, she shouldn't be takin' on Jacob's men alone. You should see if she needs a hand or something.
You've heard of Jess Black? She's one of ours. She's killer with a bow, but tends to keep to herself. We should check in, see if she needs anything.
You've probably seen the posters. Jacob's been lookin' for Jess, been a real thorn in his side. Tell you what, let's go see what trouble she got herself into.
Have you seen what the Cook does when he catches you? I sure hope that Jess girl doesn't try to take him on alone. Might be an idea to go give her a hand.
Just imagine, that Jess girl's tryin' to take on the Cook all by herself. That's crazy. You should go talk to her, see if you can give her a hand.
Have you seen all the bodies laying about? That's the Cook's work. Jess has gone off to hunt him down, but I'm not letting her do it alone. Let's go and see what we can do.
Jess is crazy. The Cook isn't someone to mess with, especially by yourself. Tell you what, let's head on over, see if she could use our help.
From Dutch:
Jess has been trouble all her life... but with what's she's been through, I can't blame her. If you can check in on her, I'd appreciate it.
Either from Eli or Dutch, not sure:
And thanks for springin' Jess, you might wanna check in with her, she's one of the best Whitetails we got.
Heard you're workin' with Jess. She's one of our best and a helluva shot. Have a feeling you two can put some fear-of-god into Jacob's army.
No idea:
Contrary to what people think, Dutch Roosevelt's doomsday obsession didn't drive all of his family away. He's got a niece. Jess Black. Lives up north. Don't know how close they are, but between the stubbornness and the attitude, you can see the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.
From Phil:
Hey, this is Phil. We got another dozen pledges comin' your way. I know it's a big batch but we hit payday on these motherfuckin' Whitetails, and I don't want 'em rottin' away at the mill. We're haulin' out bodies every couple hours, and now we got some crazy Hunger Games wannabe to deal with. So make room. The truck'll be there any time now.
NOTES
I haven’t heard a single one from those along the lines of “let’s go check her out!.” You probably have to roam around Jacob’s region early on to hear them, which I left for last, long after recruiting Jess. Idk, pure speculation. Maybe they’re not even in the game anymore.
She’s consistently referred to as “girl” which does kind of confirm it to me that her age being listed as 27 on the wiki is complete bullshit. Just feel like she’s around 21, give or take a year.
“These woods are no place for a girl.” First of all, she’s a Creature
“Jacob's been lookin' for Jess, been a real thorn in his side.” We love to see it <3
“Jess is crazy” Correct!
Love that Jess and Dutch both have “the stubbornness and the attitude” going on for them.
Finally, that is my crazy Hunger Games wannabe you’re talking about, Phil. Show some respect.
#JESS ABOUT: everybody’s got a talent; mine is putting arrows through the heads of people who wanna kill me#there's nothing new here really
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My Reaction to What If…? Season 2
This post will have a lot of spoilers if you haven’t watched so here’s a warning ahead!!
I REALLYYY loved seeing Nebula as a space cop. She has great detective skills and then seeing her take on Yondu’s headpiece and basically form her own team was so dope!!
We really missed out on an opportunity to see Peter Quill have powers… Well at least we got to see an OG version of the Avengers with the older heroes in their younger form!! What I’ve learned is I just love all the Captain Marvel women from Carol, Monica, Kamala, Maria and now Wendy/Mar-Vell. And I’ve also learned that I just really don’t like the Ant-Man crew at all, they all just hilariously irritate me.
So, it’s official. I ship Captain Carter and Black Widow. What would their ship name be? CaptainWidow, CartManoff, PegNat??
Kahhori is one of my newer favorite heroes, to see her rise and stand up for her people against them conquistadors was epic!! Her powers are cool asf too!! Just AHHHH I love her so much 🥹
The way people love Loki is the way I love Hela. I really wish got more of her in the main MCU, but seeing her and Morris was so adorable!! And she got to be trained in the arts of the Tahlo. And she became a Goddess!!!! She looks so beautiful, reminded me of She-Ra almost lol.
I was so confused by that medieval episode, but I also really liked it. I mean we got to see WANDA!!! Steve was back to lookin like a shnack, and that was most of my takeaway from the episode.
The last episode was really good. Loved seeing Peggy and Kahhori team up against Strange Supreme. I’m honestly just tired of the romance aspect and how they fail between Strange and Christine. The action was just so fun to watch.
Marvel definitely did their big one with this series!! While the rest of their shit this past year and in 2022 has sucked (aside from The Marvels, Loki S2 and Wakanda Forever), What If is really their best show as of now in terms of action and interesting storylines.
SCORE: 7.5/10 ⭐️
#cinema starview#disney plus#what if?#what if season 2#marvel studios#what if spoilers#marvel mcu#mcu#marvel critical
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The Schuyler Sisters
[BURR]
There's nothing rich folks love more
Than going downtown and slummin' it with the poor
They pull up in their carriages and gawk
At the students in the common
Just to watch them talk
Take Philip Schuyler: the man is loaded
Uh-oh, but little does he know that
His daughters, Peggy, Angelica, Eliza
Sneak into the city just to watch all the guys at—
[COMPANY]
Work, work!
[ANGELICA]
Angelica!
[COMPANY]
Work, work!
[ELIZA]
Eliza!
[PEGGY]
And Peggy!
[COMPANY]
Work, work!
The Schuyler sisters!
[ANGELICA]
Angelica!
[PEGGY]
Peggy!
[ELIZA]
Eliza!
[COMPANY]
Work!
[PEGGY]
Daddy said to be home by sundown
[ANGELICA]
Daddy doesn't need to know
[PEGGY]
Daddy said not to go downtown
[ELIZA]
Like I said, you're free to go
[ANGELICA]
But—look around, look around, the
Revolution's happening in New York
[ELIZA/PEGGY]
New York
[COMPANY]
Angelica
[SCHUYLER SISTERS AND COMPANY]
Work!
[PEGGY]
It's bad enough daddy wants to go to war
[ELIZA]
People shouting in the square
[PEGGY]
It's bad enough there'll be violence on our shore
[ANGELICA]
New ideas in the air
[ANGELICA AND MALE ENSEMBLE]
Look around, look around—
[ELIZA]
Angelica, remind me what we're looking for…
[ALL MEN]
She's lookin' for me!
[ANGELICA & COMPANY]
Eliza, I'm lookin' for a mind at work (Work, work)
I'm lookin' for a mind at work! (Work, work)
I'm lookin' for a mind at work! (Work, work)
Whooaaaaa!
[ELIZA/ANGELICA/PEGGY with COMPANY]
Whooaaaaa!
Work!
[BURR]
Wooh! There's nothin' like summer in the city
Someone in a rush next to someone lookin' pretty
Excuse me, miss, I know it's not funny
But your perfume smells like your daddy's got money
Why you slummin' in the city in your fancy heels
You searchin for an urchin who can give you ideals?
[ANGELICA]
Burr, you disgust me
[BURR]
Ah, so you've discussed me
I'm a trust fund, baby, you can trust me!
[ANGELICA]
I've been reading Common Sense by Thomas Paine
So men say that I'm intense or I'm insane
You want a revolution? I want a revelation
So listen to my declaration:
[ELIZA/ANGELICA/PEGGY]
“We hold these truths to be self-evident
That all men are created equal”
[ANGELICA]
And when I meet Thomas Jefferson
[COMPANY]
Unh!
[ANGELICA]
I'm ‘a compel him to include women in the sequel!
[WOMEN]
Work!
[ELIZA]
Look around, look around at how
Lucky we are to be alive right now!
[ELIZA/PEGGY]
Look around, look around at how
Lucky we are to be alive right now!
[ELIZA/ANGELICA/PEGGY]
History is happening in Manhattan and we just happen to be
In the greatest city in the world!
[SCHUYLER SISTERS AND COMPANY]
In the greatest city in the world!
[ANGELICA, ELIZA/PEGGY & MEN]
'Cause I've been reading Common Sense by Thomas Paine
Look around, look around
Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!
So men say that I'm intense or I'm insane
The revolution's happening in—
Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!
[ANGELICA, ELIZA/PEGGY, WOMEN]
You want a revolution? I want a revelation
New York!
Look around, look around, the revolution's happening
In New York!
So listen to my declaration:
[ANGELICA/ELIZA/PEGGY, FEMALE ENSEMBLE, & WOMEN]
We hold these truths to be self evident that all men are created equal
Look around, look around
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Whoo!
At how lucky we are to be alive right now
Hey, hey, hey, hey
[FULL COMPANY]
Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now!
History is happening in Manhattan and we just happen to be
[ALL WOMEN]
In the greatest city in the world
[ALL MEN]
In the greatest city—
[COMPANY]
In the greatest city in the world!
[COMPANY & ANGELICA]
Work, work! Angelica
[COMPANY, ELIZA, & PEGGY]
Work, work! Eliza
And Peggy!
[COMPANY & ANGELICA/ELIZA/PEGGY]
Work, work!
The Schuyler sisters
Work, work
We're looking for a mind at work
Work, work (Hey)
Work, work (Hey)
Work, work
[COMPANY, ANGELICA, & ELIZA/PEGGY]
Work, work
Whoa!
Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!
Work, work
In the greatest city in the world
In the greatest city in the world
[COMPANY]
In the greatest city in the world
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That’s cool anyways wanna see me type Schuyler Sisters from Hamilton from memory? Under the cut here ⬇️
There's nothing rich folks love more, than going downtown and slummin' it with the poor! They pull up in their carriages and gawk, at the students in the common just to watch 'em talk—
Take Philip Schuyler, the man is loaded, Uh oh, but little does he know that his daughters, Peggy, Angelica, Eliza, sneak into the city just to watch all the guys at-
Work work! Angelica! Work work! Eliza! And Peggy! Work! work! The Schuyler sisters! Angelica! Peggy! Eliza! Work!
Daddy said to be home by sundown..Daddy doesn't need to know. Daddy said not to go downtown! Like I said, you're free to go, but look around, look around, the revolution's happening in New Yorkkk!! New York..Angelicaaaaa, work!
It's bad enough Daddy wants to go to war..People shouting in the square! It's bad enough there'll be violence on our shore! New ideas in the air! Look around, look around, Angelica, remind me what we're looking for…She's lookin' for me!
Eliza, I'm lookin' for a mind at work work. I'm lookin' for a mind at work, work. I'm lookin' for a mind at work, work. Whooa-oooh, whooa-o-ooh, whoa, oh, oh, work!
Whoo! There's nothin' like summer in the city, someone in a rush, next to someone lookin' pretty..Excuse me, miss, I know it's not funny, but your perfume smells like your daddy's got money.
Why you slummin' in the city in your fancy heels? You searchin' for an urchin who can give you ideals? Burr, you disgust me. Ah, so you've discussed me? I'm a trust fund, baby, you can trust me.
I've been reading "Common Sense" by Thomas Paine, so men say that I'm intense or I'm insane. You want a revolution? I want a revelation! So listen to my declaration!
"We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal" And when I meet Thomas Jefferson? Uh, I'ma compel him to include women in the sequel, work!
Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now!
Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now!
History is happening in Manhattan, and we just happen to be in the greatest city in the world, in the greatest city in the world!
..ok that isn’t all of it but it’s enough to impress someone.
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1.10.23
wackass day ever fr. i cant even fuckin listen to tame impala n lana del rey the same bc i fucking breakdown crying. i hate crying so much especially rn bc it just keeps getting worse. i hate myself so much bc i really did let myself go, i fr gave too much love. i cant believe he likes another girl bruh.. like its makin me question everything. are they messing ard? does his bsf know? are they even gon get together? idk why he likes her or how tf he even caught feelins for her i just feel so fuckin disgusting. i just wan throw up. what does she even have that i dont. i just feel like i got thrown aside so fast..it happen so fast? was he ready to move on already? all those notes he put on insta was for her. hints was for her , i hate myself for being delusional.
i was so damn delusional. i feel so damn weak rn bruh i just cant do nothing anymore. just lookin at everything makes me cry. everything reminds me of him n i just hate it. i dont want to go to school tmr but it just sucks cause i have a stupid test tmr.
i just cant believe he caught feelings for you.. like i fr won the i love you more argument i never hoed after fr. loyal asf but i just wan know what the fuck does she have that i dont.
it screwed me up
it screwed my head
i thought i was enough
but clearly i wasnt n i was just being delusional
i always looked at the good part
i need to accept the bad part
i cant do this
i miss him already
i love him so much but ik damn well he doesn’t feel the same. i just want to know whyy?
why do u like her?
why wasnt i enough?
it sucks cause im never fuckin enough for any1
i thought for once
he was the loml n i would make it work
i thought i was ur everything
im not
im not
im not
i cant sleep
i cant sleep when my emotions are this bad
she fr was the other woman, i always had bad vibes from her n boom it happened , i cant believe it. tf yall gon do esex? fr gettin on my nerves , im so mad n sad at the same time . but im mostly mad at myself
i wish i can just go back in time n never get in that relationship. i fr got too attached, he was my everything. i would literally wait for him to wake up just so i can talk to him bc i loved talkin to him n only him. i cant believe i thought he would do the same for me. he prob waited for her , he prob texted her faster, that sucks knowing that?
it sucks
i keeep crying
i need to get over him
but my heart n head just wants him
i cant even like
say wrong time right person
it was just wrong
that sucks
i just wanted to be his
i wanted to be his everything
i wanted to be his wife n cook for him n actually do stuff for
i wanted to grow old with him
i love him so much
i love him more than myself
he was the only guy that made me truly happy even when we werent together, he was the only one that kind of understood me , he let me ramble , he was perfect but igz
i wasnt for him
anyways
peggy hill worst character in king of hill
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💭
The liquor burned in her throat as Cappie choked from the Ask, a loud hacking accented by a wheezing laugh in-between.
"Shea?" she rasped with a smile. "That depressing ass Deputy? Shit, I'm lookin' for her now! Fuckin' cranky puss said she wanted a rifle part and I got one with her French ass name on it!"
With the back of her hand, Cappie wiped at her mouth.
"Is it French? Dubois, Du--Cajun? She from Louisiana? Kinda is like a crawdad, ain't she?Aww..."
The whiskey had settled in awhile ago, leaving Cappie a giggly mess of pinked cheeks and a lop-sided smile. From her place in the grain elevator, she had her rifle ready--or as ready as alcohol would allow--to shoot the driver of the scheduled Peggie delivery, the white truck emerging on the horizon line. Her rifle was raised, a dizzy hazel eye meeting the scope.
"If ya see Shea, let a bitch know," added Cappie. "Wanna bond with my pissy lil' crawdad. Need to clear the air on some gossip involvin' good ol' Johnny..."
She pulled the trigger, sending the white van to careen into a grove of trees.
"Rest in Hell, fucker."
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Sam & Bucky, “grabbing onto their arm”
soooo ... i watched "why didnt they ask evans?" remembered that i loved agatha christie novels and immediately landed here. obviously wave the historical accuracy away bc i did just enough research for Flavour but not much for anything else. premise: everything remains the same as canon except bucky didnt fall off the train & a whole lot of characters were born much earlier in the 1900s.
this isn't technically finished yet but it's enough to justify answering the prompt; i want to try to get the latter half of this "part" done & perhaps if the fates align even write a part 2 to actually complete the story but for now have this!! if you'd like to see more pls let me know <3 thanks for the prompt zainab love u
Sam figures this is just typical. So he’d decided to go to New York – get that loan. Hell, they need that loan. Boy, don’t do it, Sarah had said, but Sam figured it was his right just as anyone else’s, and Stark talked all that talk about his new GI grant. They won’t have you, Sarah said, and like an idiot Sam went anyway. He went, and he sat himself down in that nice fancy apartment building lobby across the room from the saddest lookin’ white fella he’d seen in a while, which was saying a hell of a lot. He got up, walked over, he spoke to the nice receptionist, he wrote his name down.
Of course, he was right – they would’ve taken him. Had the paperwork done up and everything. Stark may have been a bit crazy, hell if Sam knew, but he had money to throw at things.
Only then, the very next day, Howard Stark died.
HEADLINE EXCLUSIVE: HOWARD STARK FOUND DEAD IN ALLEY BEHIND MANHATTAN APARTMENT
The New York Times, Monday, October 12th, 1947
Nation mourns death of eccentric millionaire inventor and war hero Howard Stark, found dead of a gunshot wound this morning in the alleyway behind his Manhattan home. With him, also dead, was socialite fiance Maria Caruso. Police have yet to identify the nature of the death but have not ruled out suicide. However, sources confirm that the firearm found at the scene was not Stark’s, but rather belonged to Stark’s comrade and fellow veteran Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes.
The thing about Peggy is that she understands him, which is just a bitch and a half sometimes.
“You threw the weapon out.”
She’s repeating this, flatly, but with enough inflection that Bucky comprehends the are you perhaps a massive idiot implied therein. Peg would say it like that too — use perhaps and massive and arch her eyebrows.
Bucky presses his hands harder where they’re clutched at his temples and grimaces. “Look, I wasn’t thinking clearly, alright?”
“James.”
James, full name, not Jim like when she’s being chummy and of course Agent Margaret Carter of His Majesty’s Royal Service never quite got around to following Steve’s lead on the Bucky front. Bucky grimaces harder. Peggy will stare and be sardonic and, God help him suspicious until he explains.
“I dunno what you want me to say, Peg – it was there in the drawer and I couldn’t bear lookin’ at it anymore.”
Her resultant expression is just a touch too understanding for his taste.
“How the hell would I know that tossing a Colt into the Hudson in the middle of the night would get Howard killed?” Bucky adds, to move past it.
Minutely as possible Peggy flinches. Balls of steel, he’s always said. The other guys thought the same, but none of them had the guts to say it aloud. Speaking of other guys –
“Dugan’s coming over.”
“Like hell he is,” Bucky says.
Peggy takes an elegant drag of her cigarette. She’s sitting at the dull brown edge of his made-up bed and being careful enough that the ashes don’t spill. What difference that’ll make Bucky’s not sure. His apartment’s the definition of sad. Becca nearly cried last week when she visited, but then instead of crying yelled at him ‘til he relented and got a pillow.
“Evidently,” says Peggy, still on the topic of Dum-Dum, “he has not considered the double agent angle. His wife made you casserole.”
“Mm,” says Bucky, grim. He walks over to his meager kitchen, pulls a dusty bottle out from the cabinet and unscrews it. “Gonna get him killed one of these days.”
“Given my ongoing conviction that you are not in fact a spy –”
“Jury’s out on you though,” Bucky says, raising the bottle at her.
“-- you do realize that you are a prime suspect in the murder of our close personal friend.” She blows out. “If we can’t rely on our comrades, we’re rather fucked.”
“I am, you mean.”
Her mouth turns mulish and she looks away to the window then back. Maybe she did mean we, lumping the two of them under the tarp of some morbid umbrella. Steve’s dead and gone and sacrificed nobly, isn’t he.
“You didn’t kill Howard and he didn’t damn well kill himself,” says Peggy, steely. “I’d like to know which bastard did.”
Bucky puts his drink down. Sighs. Crosses his arms.
“So?”
“I’ll poke around at SSR –”
“You really do think it’s a spy –”
“Stay here. Word is they don’t want this in the press just yet, which, well. Neither of us were born yesterday.”
“You callin’ me old, Agent Carter?” he asks, just on the right edge of bratty.
Peggy steamrolls forward, “Don’t do anything untoward, please.”
“You’re the one sitting on the bed of an unmarried man,” Bucky says. He walks over to the window and tugs it open, letting cigarette smoke out and giving him an eye to the dank alley below. It’s spring and the sunlight’s pale and his room’s not too high up; were anyone to jump, they’d barely sprain an ankle. And Howard’s fucking dead. Bucky turns back and flicks a thumb under his chin. “C’mon,” he says, “gimme the rest of your cigarette. I’m the one wanted for murder.”
“Christ,” Peggy mutters, getting to her feet.
She hands the cigarette over anyway, and Bucky spends the minute it takes her to leave wiping off the lipstick stains. It’s a lost cause, more or less.
He has to put it out, against the peeling windowsill.
Sam’s rung the service bell a third time when the receptionist finally appears.
“Concierge’s assistant,” she corrects in a trill voice. Her curls are pinned tightly and her skirt waist more so. The red of her lipstick clashes garishly with her hair. Her nametag reads Dolores. “Can I help you?”
“Um, yeah,” says Sam, “Ma’am.” He grips his bag. “I'm here to inquire about my loan.”
The lobby he’s in is just as fancy as it was the first time around, with tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers and fine imported rugs on the floors. It was pretty empty last time too, quiet and genteel the way rich white people pretend to be. Only last time Sam was kept company not just by Miss Dollie’s red lipstick but the scowling, oblivious man she kept batting her lashes at; this time the place is empty. Police have roped off the elevator and even the white folks’ plush seating area is out of bounds. Dollie looks pastier than usual.
“Oh,” says Dolores, “oh. From –”
“Yesterday,” Sam says, slow and expectant.
“You’d better go home,” says Dolores.
“They took my name down,” says Sam, a second time. “I wrote it on paper and everything.”
Dolores has busied herself with some stationary thing under the desk and distractedly says, “I just don’t think dead people can give loans. It’s a shame, don’t you think? He was a real dreamboat.”
“Ma’am – Ms. Dolores –” She stops looking wistful about Stark’s erstwhile good looks and refocuses, “Now c’mon. I paid train money for this. My sister’s got two kids – our family’s business is on the line. I’d like to talk to someone.”
“I’d guess you oughta get a lawyer,” Dolores says mournfully.
“Dollie,” Sam starts, “can I call you Dollie?” She perks up, which is inconvenient, as Sam remembers that he knows better than to flirt with a white woman. “Don’t they have some kind of insurance in place?” he asks. “His family – estate, somethin’? I mean, Howard Stark, a guy like that wouldn’t leave millions lyin’ around.”
Not that Sam knows much about men like Howard Stark. But if the police won’t bother listening to him, he’s just gotta run with his own theories.
“Jeez,” says Dollie, sniffing. “I couldn’t tell you. The whole back door’s swarming with cops. No one’s even gone through the rooms yet.” And then she says, “Oh – oh!” And bursts into tears.
Sam hovers awkwardly on the other side of the reception desk and offers her his ratty handkerchief until she has collected herself enough to wave him off with one hand and stumble away to the bathroom. Her low heels thump unevenly on the carpeted floor as she goes. He straightens the tie of his dress uniform and looks around again. He can hear voices, but far past the desk, closer to the alley door and the mail room. Hell, he’d bet even the cleaning staff have been either sent home or brought in for questioning.
“Ain’t this just our luck,” Sam mutters.
There’s no one around. The elevator is right there. Sam takes a deep breath and heads upstairs.
Upstairs is fancier than downstairs in the sense that Sam’s been in lobbies before but has never been in the type of suite that takes up a whole floor. The tall gilded windows look out on nearly all of Manhattan. Someone – he guesses the same police who told him to stop wasting their time, they had better things to be dealing with – has taped off the entrance to each room, but other than that, Dollie was right: it’s more or less untouched.
Which makes sense, ‘cause there’s a whole lot to touch. Sam can barely see the bedroom (with its big four-poster bed) or the bathroom (with its marble counter) because there is stuff everywhere. There’s a painter’s easel with a feminine aura to it in the corner and paints laid out, slowly drying, and yesterday morning’s newspaper. A large cylindrical contraption moves back and forth beside the desk, over the carpet in one corner, like someone forgot it there; it emits a loud suctioning noise (Sam can see the carpet hole forming) while steaming a smoking jacket to misshapenness at the same time. The coffee machine has three levels, one each for cream, milk, and sugar; the coffee smells burned. These are not the weird things. The weird things are the three stacks of metal drawers emitting a strange humming noise, and the industrial sized ice box, and the half-deconstructed bicycle sitting on top of the desk with what looks like a freakier version of a machine gun strapped to the handlebars. It has wires and hydraulics and everything comin’ out of its ends.
“Just check the desk and leave, Sam,” Sam mutters to himself, pushing down his nerves. You’re the fool who got yourself into this, says Sarah’s voice in his head.
She ain’t wrong.
The glossy desk is smaller than Sam expected. He checks it; two drawers with locks on them, and the third opens to a couple loose lead pencils rolling around. He supposes an important man like Howard Stark wouldn’t keep his papers sitting just anywhere. Under the desk, maybe?
Nothing. Not even a damn cardboard box.
He straightens, hums at the locked doors. In front of him a lopsided chalkboard reads CADILLAC IN OUTER SPACE???? ASK JARVIS in giant block letters.
“Going around wastin’ my time …” Sam mutters, picking his bag up and rubbing behind his neck. “Maybe we do need a lawyer.”
Then he narrows his eyes.
There.
Right there.
Someone has picked the lock.
The first drawer sits just off its latch and the second has scuff marks under where the key goes in. “Well, shit,” he mutters. He gets back down on his knees. There is definitely a splinter, right down the middle of the second lock, like someone wrenched at it when a gentle picking didn’t do the job. “Now why the hell would he have to do that if he’s got a key?”
Sam’s habit of asking himself rhetorical questions is very suddenly put on the spot when, instead of the silence he usually anticipates, he is answered by a faint creak from the foyer beyond the study door. Sam freezes. He doesn’t think his dress uniform is enough to stop him getting arrested if anyone were to find him here now. Then again, with these locks and the general strangeness of the situation, arrest could be the safer option. Scooping up his bag, Sam slowly rises to his feet and pads softly around the desk, just barely missing the steam-cylinder and its jacket (it lets out a sad whistle), and slips a small pocket knife out from the inside of his left sock. He stalls at the doorframe, trying to breathe as quietly as he can. There’s definitely someone on the other side.
Inhaling sharply, he pounces.
“Oomph!”
“Shit!”
On instinct Sam grabs the arm that swings at him. He brings his knee up and his elbow down and there is a moment where they grapple, with strong emphasis on the moment part – very suddenly Sam finds his arm knocked out of the way and himself grabbed by beneath his chin, and slammed into the foyer wall like his cousin Deedee’s flour sack doll, so hard that all the breathe leaves his lungs in one fell swoop. His hat gets knocked off of his head with the force of it and falls to the floor.
Sam blinks. There is a scruffy, pale face in front of him, which features two big blue eyes that are blinking right back, looking equally startled.
They stay frozen like that for the space of two heartbeats. Sam’s fingers tighten where they’re fisted at the guy’s collar, refusing to yield. He’s pretty sure his knife has skidded under the shoe rack.
He really liked that knife, dammit.
“Who the hell are you?” asks the man suddenly, both loud and Brooklyn about it.
“Funny,” wheezes Sam, “I could ask you the same thing.”
He releases Sam, which is nice of him. Stumbling, he moves a few steps back, and looks quite suddenly more bewildered than before. He’s not much taller than Sam is, with dark floppy hair that hangs over one eyebrow and a frame like a heavyweight boxer. Despite his startling strength – Sam aint exactly the smallest of men – there’s an exhaustion that sits fragile under his eyes and a tense, well-concealed tremble in one arm. There’s something very familiar about his face. His slacks have scuffs at the knees and he’s wearing a lumpy-looking knit sweater that does little to mask what Sam’s dress greens are plainly revealing to him – that whoever he’s just run headlong into, trespassing in a dead guy’s bedroom, is a fellow soldier.
Or was, anyway. No more war to fight and die in. Sam tugs at the hem of his jacket. It’ll be a pain in the ass to steam again, and Sarah will raise hell about it ‘cause he’ll beg to borrow her steamer. They don’t get all that nice starching stuff at the dive motels Sam can afford.
“No one’s supposed to be up here,” insists the man, still looking baffled.
Sam straightens and rubs at his jaw, which feels like it just got caught in an industrial press.
“Sorry to disappoint,” says Sam, “but I am. Why are you here?”
“I asked first,” says the man, so unselfconsciously mulish that Sam can only stare.
“I didn’t just slam me into a wall.”
“You came at me with a knife!” protests the guy, which Sam thinks is a little unfair; that knife was kind of useless. He narrows his eyes. He oughta pick his hat up from the floor, but he figures it’d be kind of stupid to let his guard down. They stand there, eye to eye, at impasse. After the weird-looking carpet cleaner has whistled three times the man says,
“You don’t look like a German spy,” muttered, like he’s really thinkin’ about it.
“Seriously?” splutters Sam. He says this so forcefully that the other guy has the nerve to look a little offended. But now, come on – come on, Sam thinks. It’s a fair question. Only Sam’s been having a really difficult forty-eight hours, so he doesn’t appreciate it.
He decides to consider the situation a bit more fairly; how does he know this crumb hasn’t been having a tough time, too?
It’s here that something big and important feeling clicks in Sam’s head. He’s seen that scowl before – just yesterday, ignoring poor Miss Dollie.
And just this morning, in the papers plastered all over his motel lobby.
“Oh,” says Sam, “you gotta be kidding me.”
But alas, there’s no kidding to be had.
“From the paper – they think you killed him, man!”
Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes pales three shades under what little tan he has, but otherwise doesn’t react.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says instead, a divot deepening between his thick eyebrows. “It isn’t safe.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” says Sam. “Some guy just grabbed me by the throat.”
Barnes does not seem to find this amusing. Instead, he looks a funny cross between ornery and miserable, and sets his jaw to considerable mulish effect. Sam hums to himself. Fact of the matter is, Barnes has had plenty of opportunity to kill Sam so far and hasn’t taken advantage of it. If he really was guilty – Sam thinks, briefly considering the warped mind of a cold-blooded killer, a few inches removed from the necessities of soldierhood – wouldn’t he want to get rid of any witnesses or evidence?
And yet here Sam is, very much not dead.
“Well … you don’t look like a murderer,” he says aloud, slowly, but keeps his arms crossed. Somehow despite his sardonic tone and clear mockery (at least, that’s what Sam hopes is coming across), there is something profoundly relieved about the expression that flickers across Barnes’s face.
Then it is back to its customary scowl.
“You gotta leave,” he repeats firmly, pacing once, back and then forth. Sam watches him carefully; there’s that tremble again, along with a steady, even tone and deliberate eye to the skyline behind them. More than just Barnes’s face is familiar.
But Sam is still annoyed.
“Through the window?”
“There’s – a stairwell.”
“Through the stairwell definitely crawling with cops?”
“For the love of God –”
“I am just listing my options, here.”
“Just leave, go away, pretend you never saw me,” Barnes says, waving two hands in front of Sam’s face like he’s batting the whole morning away, and looking harassed. “Okay? Jesus, it ain’t that hard.”
“Pretend I never saw you, creepin’ around the apartment of the fella you’re supposed to have killed,” Sam says. “Yeah, no, I’m gonna tell somebody.”
“Seriously?!” It’s Barnes’s turn to sound offensively incredulous.
“Or,” Sam says, “you could tell me what’s goin’ on.”
There’s a long pause. Sam hardly thinks his voice is friendly – if anything, he’s annoyed as hell – but Barnes opens his mouth, two beats, a sudden vulnerability stuck to his chin. Too vulnerable for whatever Sam’s asking. In that split second it sucks the breath outta the room.
Sam doesn’t have any idea what it is that’s just made Barnes’s head whip around until a bullet explodes into the lobby mirror above their heads.
“Fuck!”
Two rough hands shove him back into the study and Sam nearly knocks over the artillery bicycle; he looks up in time to see Barnes throwing his lanky frame against the opposing wall and holding his arms up over his head, yelling loudly in annoyance when another three bullets spray into the beautiful engraved wood above their heads and nearly bring down the chandelier. The coffee maker starts whistling out of control. Sam groans.
“Gimme your gun!” demands Barnes, which is beyond unhelpful.
“I don’t have a gun,” says Sam, waving one hand in the air to demonstrate this. “Where’s your gun?”
“I threw it in the fucking Hudson!” says Barnes. He looks like a guy who’s had a very long forty-eight hours; Sam can relate. “I’ve been framed for murder, remember?”
“We actually never established that that’s the truth,” Sam feels the need to point out, a second before another bullet tears through the poor over-steamed suit jacket.
Bang.
“Common sense!” exclaims Barnes.
Bang.
“Somethin’ you don’t seem to have much of!” yells Sam.
Bang.
“THERE IS A MAN SHOOTING AT US.”
Bang.
“HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?!”
Jiminy Christmas, says Sarah’s voice in Sam’s head. His sister is not gonna be happy about this.
They scramble for the front door as another two bullets sound off. Sam just barely has the time to reach down and grab his hat, and can just make out a slight, shadowed figure ducking back behind the wardrobe in the bedroom before they burst into the elevator lobby – right in time for the elevator door to ding open, and the tomato-red of the huffing police commissioner’s face to peek through.
Barnes has grabbed him by the arm again and pushed him into the stairwell going back downstairs before Sam has any time to react.
And, maybe importantly, before any of the many police officers squeezing themselves out into the hallway can see him.
Huh, he thinks, a second before the other man’s bulky shoulders burst through the door in turn, knock haphazardly into Sam, and half tumble them down the staircase with a garbled, “Come on, move!” tacked right onto the end.
“Can’t run anywhere with you fallin’ on top of me!” Sam says.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”
And for all that Sam was raised Southern Baptist, he has to agree.
#my writing#this was supposed to be short lol#which is something i say every time#the falcon and the winter soldier#captain america: the first avenger#tfa#bucky barnes#sam wilson#peggy carter#sam x bucky#peggy x bucky#technicallly it is meant as platonic but u can read it as#sambucky#if u want#marvel#tfatws#howard stark#alternate universe agatha christie novel baybee!!!#sam and bucky as amateur detectives my beloved#touch prompt meme
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