#eileen post

[ether-chosen]

Hello.

I am Eileen.

Those familiar with my mistress would know me as the crow on her shoulder.

Mistress is resting now. She will be back in the morning.

Her... Brood is covered currentlyz for safety and warmth.

[imagineagentcarter]

Imagine Sharon having to protect Steve from all the idiots that want to kill CAPTAIN AMERICA and then hide the bodies before Steve finds them. "Infected clothes, more like bloody clothes."

The offer for coffee is really very sweet, and Sharon almost regrets having to turn him down. But then she remembers that it's his fault she had to smuggle an unconscious, bleeding terrorist down the fire escape to a SHIELD van and thus now has blood all over her favorite shirt (concealed neatly at the bottom of her hamper), so she lets herself feel the tiniest bit vindictive instead.

[imagineagentcarter]

Imagine Sharon setting up some sort of motion-detecting Halloween decoration that scares the hell out of Steve while he's drinking his morning pumpkin spice latte on his way to his art class one day

S.H.I.E.L.D. MISSION REPORT

CLASSIFIED: CLEARANCE LEVEL 9

DATE: 10-29-12

Disturbance outside residence at 1832 hours. Upon investigation, SR had sustained minor burns from heated beverage which had spilled on his person. Spill caused by startled reaction to the sound and animatronic movement of decorative hanging placed outside residence, activated upon detecting SR’s arrival. Hanging mistakenly destroyed by SR.

No further incidents.

EXPENSES:

One (1) Animated Flying Witch on Broom, Costume Express: $19.99*

One (1) Pumpkin Spice Latte, Venti, Starbucks: $4.50*

*additional fees (e.g. sales tax, shipping and handling, etc.) not included

[imagineagentcarter]

Imagine Peggy actually met Bucky (briefly) before he was first captured by HYDRA.

She joins up with Colonel Phillips and a few other SSR operatives who have been traveling with a small pocket of Allied forces in Italy. After her report of HYDRA forces on the move, Phillips calls an officer meeting: the polite way of letting her know that she, as an unranked agent (a woman), is no longer needed. It’s hard not to visibly bristle as she leaves the command tent.

It’s then, as if on cue, a shot rings out near the edge of camp, followed by a boisterous roar. Peggy makes her way over to investigate.

Some men have set up their emptied food cans on rocks near the tree line and are taking turns shooting them down with their handguns, slowly backing up further and further for a greater challenge. And of course, men being men, they’ve made it into some sort of contest. As she watches, one of the two men remaining in competition misses a can and strikes out.

"Bet you can’t make the shot from ten more feet out," he challenges, and the victor—a dark-haired sergeant—tries to shake it off.

"Nah, we should save our ammo for later," he says, but the small crowd around him is having none of it. 

"Come on, Sarge!" they jeer. One of them goes so far as to wager, "A pack of smokes says you can’t do it!" The sergeant rolls his eyes at the goading, but he reluctantly backs up the extra ten feet as the men hoot and holler in approval.

And maybe it’s a bit childish of her, but the dismissal of earlier still stings, and Peggy has spent the last several weeks undercover, forcing herself to remain simpering and sweet to extract information; she is itching for the chance to just show off. So before the sergeant has the opportunity to line up his shot, she pulls out her Colt, stands a good ten feet behind him, and fires.

The can disappears into the trees with a distant ping.

All the men go silent. The sergeant is one of the last of them to turn and look at her, and she wonders how this one will react to being upstaged by a woman: rage or condescension.

But instead, he grins and calls back towards the men, “Well, Dugan? You promised a pack of smokes, didn’t you?” After a beat, someone tosses the sergeant a cigarette package, and he strides over to hand it to her. “Great shooting, ma’am,” he says, roguish and cheeky, but genuinely impressed all the same.

Peggy takes the cigarettes with a nod and a slight smile of her own. “You weren’t so terrible yourself, Sergeant.”

The conversation is cut short by a messenger—apparently now Phillips wants her opinion on strategy—and as she goes, he gives her a lazy salute in farewell.

The next day, the 107th is sent out to counter HYDRA forces near Azzano, and Peggy doesn’t see the dark-haired sergeant again until one suicidal rescue mission later and a shout of, “Let’s hear it for Captain America!”

[imagineagentcarter]

imagine sharon getting into fights with bullies twice her size. even when she was ten, she was clever enough to do it and not get caught.

Her parents freely accept her mundane explanations for the scrapes and bruises--usually something to do with falling off of various playground equipment--content to believe that their daughter is unfortunately clumsy. It helps that the bullies are too ashamed to admit they got scared off by a little girl to tell the teachers, a fact that would probably make her angry if it wasn't keeping her out of trouble so effectively.

Sharon gets called to the principal's office exactly once, and even at age ten, she can tell that he's pretty skeptical. All it takes to throw him off are a few well-placed tears and an offhand comment about how she'd never go anywhere near Terrence, she's seen what he does to the other third-graders.

Terrence gets detention for a week, and after that, no one dares say a word.

(Her Aunt Peggy is the only one who ever suspects the truth. She catches Sharon nursing her sore, bruised hand after school one day. "Never keep your thumb inside your fist," her aunt tells her, and though that's the only thing she ever says on the subject, Sharon could swear she sometimes sees Aunt Peggy give her a sly wink.)