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[ indie 616/MCU peggy carter rp blog ] multiship || multiverse please read about and rules before interacting comic icons: made by me permission to use: by request only fc icons: made by me permission to use: by request only { fc: hayley atwell } ALL comic spoilers tagged as "#wednesday spoilers" for 1-2 weeks after release date ( unless requested otherwise ) ALL movie spoilers tagged as "#[movie title] spoilers" for one month after release date ( unless requested otherwise ) ASK: [ open ] ANON: [ on ] ( don't make me change that ) art credit

[weheartchrisevans]

[firstxthirteen-blog]

&& extractionexpert

     “Angie and I are very pleased with the accommodations,      yes, thank you Mr. Jarvis. Please pass our thanks along      to Howard.”

     “I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear it once      he returns from his vacation. I believe he’s      taken the prima ballerina of the American      Ballet Theatre to some island or another,      Lord knows when he’ll be back.”

     “Yes, that sounds like him. The day that man settles      down is the day Armageddon is at hand, mark my      words.”

[ageofgeek]

New Agent Carter Season 2 Poster from SDCC

(x)

[firstxthirteen-blog]

&& extractionexpert

     “Agent Carter, pleasure to see you again. I      trust things are still to your liking at your      apartment?”

     “Angie and I are very pleased with the accommodations,      yes, thank you Mr. Jarvis. Please pass our thanks along      to Howard.”

[firstxthirteen-blog]

so this blog still exists.

[firstxthirteen-blog]

spooky-steve

[firstxthirteen-blog]

“ I know. ” The words were small, murmured against his shoulder softly. “ It’s a park now. Closed in 1965. October… Second, I think. ” All very matter-of-fact, certain except when she wanted to seem like she wasn’t. She wouldn’t admit it unless he asked, but she’d been there that day. On the second of October in 1965, the day it had closed. “ I used to spend a lot of time there, whenever I missed you… ” At least once a month for nearly twenty years. Except for a year between 1952 and 1953 when she thought she might have found a new love (it didn’t last). She had never danced, only let herself feel alone, surrounded by people. When it closed, she took to feeling alone when she was alone.

She pulled away a little to look up at him when he talked about the ice, eyes misty at best. Her chest ached for a moment as she realized how much pain she’d unintentionally caused him just by not seeking him out. She knew it was worth it——the lives of others, the safety of the population, took priority. But that didn’t mean she had ever meant or wanted to cause him pain. And for a moment she wondered if what she was doing now was fair or right. Only a moment. “ It doesn’t have to be all in your head anymore. There doesn’t need to be anything to stop us. There’s no Colonel Phillips to spy on us. There’s no war to get in our way. ” There were only her secrets between them, but she wasn’t thinking of that. “ Those dreams we made, seventy years ago, we can have them now. And why shouldn’t we? ”

[commander-steve]

"You went because you missed me?" Had she danced? Of course he wasn’t silly enough to think she never had, but he’d admit to the small sting of jealousy over having to know she danced with somebody there. But something about how she said she spent a lot of time there made him stop, and rethink his position. She went there when she missed him—even so many years later he’d made his way into Peggy’s mind. Maybe that was enough. "Maybe having the Stork Club in your kitchen isn’t so bad then, huh?" It wasn’t until then that he noticed the music had stopped, but he couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, the way he was holding her, the way they were swaying to an unheard tune from long ago.

"I shouldn’t have said anything." If there was one thing he’d learned, talking about his time in the ice made people incredibly uncomfortable, even more so than it did him. "What do you mean?" It was his turn to pull away from her, just slightly, to get a better look at her face. "Peggy—" he could feel his heart racing off ahead of him as his lips found hers, fond and warm. "You’ve been here for seventy years…the war never stopped it just evolved.” And that was a hard truth he had to face. “We shouldn’t because I don’t…I don’t know if I can do that now. I was twenty-three when we said that. It was—” in his mind just a few years ago. “—a lifetime ago. Are you the same person you were then?”

[firstxthirteen-blog]

     T hey didn't need music to dance. She didn't care if there was music as long as she had him. He reminded her of a time when——and she couldn't believe she was looking back on a World War like this——but he reminded her of a time when things were easier. And she would welcome that warmth as long as he was there. “ This is much better than the Stork Club, ” she said just before he pulled away to look down at her.

     His kiss made her heart race like she was young again, hiding away in meeting rooms and meeting in the middle of the night. But his words shattered the mirage. No. No, she wasn't the same person she was then, but——“ I like to pretend I am sometimes. ” She hadn't meant for that to slip out, but there it was.

     And it hadn't occurred to her like that. That she'd had 70 years of changing and growing, and he'd had only 3, and she wasn't the woman he'd fallen in love with in the 40s. Not anymore. Sometimes, when he wasn't around, she knew in the grand scheme of things that was good. She was smarter, wiser, more experienced, and that couldn't be a bad thing. But when he was around, and she looked in his eyes and saw how hope looked again, she remembered how cynical she'd become. How... How sad.

     But when he was there, it was as if she remembered what it was like to be young and happy and hopeful again. In the most literal way, having him around made her back into the woman she'd once been. Not because he demanded it of her, not because he drew it out of her, not because he expected it. She wanted to be that again. Because she missed that hope, that happiness, that youth.

     “ You're not ready to be a father? ” she clarified through a smile mismatched to her words. “ Or you're not ready to be a husband? ”

     Or you're not ready to be my husband? A father to my children?

[firstxthirteen-blog]

spooky-steve

[firstxthirteen-blog]

As he pressed her against his chest, she dipped her head to rest it on his shoulder. It was just a dance. A dance she’d have traded the world for a few decades ago. A dance she’d held onto hope for when all hope seemed lost. A dance she’d given up on once upon a time. A dance she’d dreamed of. A dance she’d never forgotten (no matter how hard she tried).

She tried to tell herself it wasn’t worth crying over, but his words reminded her how wrong she was.

“ I didn’t need it before. I would have loved it, but I wouldn’t have known——I wouldn’t have understood how good it felt to be back in your arms. I wouldn’t trade what this feels like for… anything. ”

She kept going back to the fact that, in seventy years, she couldn’t stop loving him. Loved other men, two or three here or there, sure. But that didn’t mean not loving him. She was beginning to think that wasn’t possible. “ Do you remember when I stole you into an empty little meeting room, and you held me almost just like this, and we talked about the Stork Club, and our wedding, our children… I’ve dreamed about that day. ” Not their dreams——those, she’d given up on ages ago——just having him near again, there to dream with and hold.

[commander-steve]

There were days when he still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t some elaborate hoax, or that he wasn’t still on the ice, dead. Maybe this was his heaven. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d thought so, and when he remembered the ice, he knew that he did dream of her. But they were much more painful than he’d ever let on. When you dream of having a lift with someone for over seventy years to have it all taken away…it wasn’t something he looked back to with fondness.

"Anything? You mean I’m doing this for free when you’re willing to give anything for it. What a saint I am. I demand something in return now.” His voice was soft, kind, and completely jesting. Because he knew she’d already given everything. Seventy years? That was over a lifetime for some people, and just too damned long.

When she mentioned the room, the day, he knew exactly what she was speaking of. “It’s closed. I went there and it’s gone, Peggy.” That was three years ago, and he felt like he was missing something since then. It was like nothing he’d lived had ever happened, like it was some twisted dream. “When I crashed…I dreamed. I dreamed that we did all of that, like we lived out every moment of our life together. You’ll never know how much I wanted to go back to that ice when I found out it was all in my mind. It was my mind trying to block out the pain with something happy…least that’s what I was told.”

[firstxthirteen-blog]

     “ I know. ” The words were small, murmured against his shoulder softly. “ It's a park now. Closed in 1965. October... Second, I think. ” All very matter-of-fact, certain except when she wanted to seem like she wasn't. She wouldn't admit it unless he asked, but she'd been there that day. On the second of October in 1965, the day it had closed. “ I used to spend a lot of time there, whenever I missed you... ” At least once a month for nearly twenty years. Except for a year between 1952 and 1953 when she thought she might have found a new love (it didn't last). She had never danced, only let herself feel alone, surrounded by people. When it closed, she took to feeling alone when she was alone.

     She pulled away a little to look up at him when he talked about the ice, eyes misty at best. Her chest ached for a moment as she realized how much pain she'd unintentionally caused him just by not seeking him out. She knew it was worth it——the lives of others, the safety of the population, took priority. But that didn't mean she had ever meant or wanted to cause him pain. And for a moment she wondered if what she was doing now was fair or right. Only a moment. “ It doesn't have to be all in your head anymore. There doesn't need to be anything to stop us. There's no Colonel Phillips to spy on us. There's no war to get in our way. ” There were only her secrets between them, but she wasn't thinking of that. “ Those dreams we made, seventy years ago, we can have them now. And why shouldn't we? ”

[firstxthirteen-blog]

T his was better than the Stork Club. She remembered the Stork Club clearly——smoky, alcohol-scented, dark, lonely. This was so much better than the Stork Club. Surrounded by his scent from the comfort of his shirt. Bing Crosby playing quietly from the kitchen. Bright and happy, and how could it not be happy with Steve there? Seventy years without him, seventy years behind her full of secrets, and God only knew how many years ahead of her. Happy. With him.

One glance at him had her smiling as it was, but just when she was about to turn away, he grabbed her and pulled her away from the coffee machine she was fussing with. Her lips parted as she stared up at him, but she should have known what he was up to the moment he drew her closer. It shouldn’t have taken until he said the word dance, but it did.

And as soon as he did, she thought she might cry. She held back the tears, her free hand on his shoulder, and smiled at him. “ Better late than never. ” One tear slipped out, down her cheek, and she shook her head. “ I’m sorry. I’m being silly. I just… ” So many dreams. So many dreams she’d given up on. So much happiness she’d never thought she’d have. “ I never thought I’d hear you say that… ”

[commander-steve]

He never thought he’d have this. He never thought that he’d be in the kitchen with her at eight in the morning, Bing playing in the background. If he closed his eyes, if he tried hard enough, he could go back, back to a time when this was all he wanted…no, all he needed. This was how he thought every morning would be. He was naive enough to think that to be possible. Oh, now looking back, he knew it was a child’s dream. What he would give to dream so freely again.

It wasn’t until he looked down at her, watched her expression change that he realized he didn’t have to dream anymore. No, his dream was standing with him, dancing with him, wearing his shirt and crying over this. What more did he need? He remembered a million promises he’d made to her, all leading up to this.

"You’re crying?" The idea of it surprised him, knowing that he’d never seen her cry, though he was sure that he’d heard her cry before his plane went there. He couldn’t be sure, though, because the radio was so muffled… As they continued to sway, he gently lifted the hand that was on her back, bringing her close to press her to his chest. "If I could do it over again—" He wouldn’t do it differently. He was needed now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. "I would have made sure we had this before. But I wasn’t about to leave my best girl without a dance."

[firstxthirteen-blog]

     As he pressed her against his chest, she dipped her head to rest it on his shoulder. It was just a dance. A dance she'd have traded the world for a few decades ago. A dance she'd held onto hope for when all hope seemed lost. A dance she'd given up on once upon a time. A dance she'd dreamed of. A dance she'd never forgotten (no matter how hard she tried).

     She tried to tell herself it wasn't worth crying over, but his words reminded her how wrong she was.

     “ I didn't need it before. I would have loved it, but I wouldn't have known——I wouldn't have understood how good it felt to be back in your arms. I wouldn't trade what this feels like for... anything. ”

     She kept going back to the fact that, in seventy years, she couldn't stop loving him. Loved other men, two or three here or there, sure. But that didn't mean not loving him. She was beginning to think that wasn't possible. “ Do you remember when I stole you into an empty little meeting room, and you held me almost just like this, and we talked about the Stork Club, and our wedding, our children... I've dreamed about that day. ” Not their dreams——those, she'd given up on ages ago——just having him near again, there to dream with and hold.

[firstxthirteen-blog]

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[firstxthirteen-blog]

spooky-steve replied to your post:spooky-steve: This wasn’t the Stork Club. She...

I hate you for this and you better believe I’m replying hard when I come back online! <3

[ :3 i can hardly wait ]

[ultrafacts]

Mr Rogers Facts.

Source: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Follow Ultrafacts for more facts daily.

[oriannagod-deactivated20150613]

be the person mr rogers thought you could be

[kingdomheartstwo-deactivated201]

He also gave a really great speech about why funding public educational television for kids is important at the Us Senate way back in 1969

[firstxthirteen-blog]

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[commander-steve]

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[firstxthirteen-blog]

spooky-steve:

This wasn’t the Stork Club. She wasn’t dressed up and her lips weren’t painted red. This wasn’t how he pictured it, and he didn’t prepare as he always thought he would.

No, this was her kitchen, and she was wearing the shirt he couldn’t find when he rolled out of bed. Her lips were pink and natural, something he’d come to love almost more than the deep color that had been her trademark. His hair stuck up every which way and his feet were slightly clumsy with sleep. 

This wasn’t how he pictured it.

Yet there she was, stealing grapes from a bowl as she hummed to music she must have put on earlier. This wasn’t what he thought it would be, but it occurred to him then that this was what he wanted, no, needed to do. 

Taking her hands, he brought her closer to him, dodging the confused look she offered him as he tried to remember how they did it in the movies. “I guess I should have asked for the dance beforehand.” Carefully, he placed a hand at the small of her back, the other intertwined with hers. “I’m sorry I was late.”

     T his was better than the Stork Club. She remembered the Stork Club clearly——smoky, alcohol-scented, dark, lonely. This was so much better than the Stork Club. Surrounded by his scent from the comfort of his shirt. Bing Crosby playing quietly from the kitchen. Bright and happy, and how could it not be happy with Steve there? Seventy years without him, seventy years behind her full of secrets, and God only knew how many years ahead of her. Happy. With him.

     One glance at him had her smiling as it was, but just when she was about to turn away, he grabbed her and pulled her away from the coffee machine she was fussing with. Her lips parted as she stared up at him, but she should have known what he was up to the moment he drew her closer. It shouldn't have taken until he said the word dance, but it did.

     And as soon as he did, she thought she might cry. She held back the tears, her free hand on his shoulder, and smiled at him. “ Better late than never. ” One tear slipped out, down her cheek, and she shook her head. “ I'm sorry. I'm being silly. I just... ” So many dreams. So many dreams she'd given up on. So much happiness she'd never thought she'd have. “ I never thought I'd hear you say that... ”

[firstxthirteen-blog]

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[commander-steve]

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[firstxthirteen-blog]

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[commander-steve]

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     S he felt tension, anticipation, desire, need curlif in every inch of her. Released for a short moment in a moan when he kissed her. “ Yes! Yes, there, just there, like that, just like that, ” she gasped desperately, leaving out the please on the tip of her tongue. Her tongue that she wanted slipping against his lips while their hips——God, she might as well beg. It would be easier.

[firstxthirteen-blog]

H er face steeled. “ Oh, hush up. Would you leave me alone if I were in your state? No. So I’m not leaving you. ” She held out her hand to him, kneeling in front of him. “ Come on. Slowly. We can make it to the bed together, and I’ll get you a bucket. … And the rag was for your face, to wash the vomit away. I’ll get you a cool one for your fever. ” And an ibuprofen for his headache.

[commander-steve]

When she offered her hand, he weakly pushed it away before retching over the toilet again, coughing when he’d finished. “I know what it was for—” His voice sounded weak, pitiful, and he hated the burn that came with it. After saying it, he wiped at his mouth, his stomach feeling more settled, though not completely. “Help me up—” He posed it as a question though wasn’t sure he’d swallowed enough of his pride to admit that as he held his hand up to her. “Please—”

[firstxthirteen-blog]

     S he took his hand and stood. “ Slowly, ” she instructed. “ You can handle it if you go slowly. ” She didn't like seeing him like this, but she wouldn't let him endure it alone. Even if he was hellbent on being macho and not letting her help.