#its steggy if you squint

[dirtydoctorwho]

Steggy Week '23 Day 1: Headcanons and meta.

Reference credit to my.ragtime.gal on ig

Peggy never participated in Operation Paperclip. It was conducted by the Joint Intelligence Objectives Agency (JIOA) and largely carried out by special agents of the U.S. Army's Counterintelligence Corps (CIC). Peggy at this time was too busy head starting SHEILD along side Chester and Howard. Howard was the one who was first invited by CIC to work with Arnim Zola and ultimately decided to bring him to use as a SHEILD scientist.

While Phillips was convinced, Peggy was not. She knew what Zola had done to Steve. She knew about his work in Hydra and even had her suspicions about what he'd done to Barns in Azzano. This is the biggest fight Howard and Peggy ever had (and why she was not widely present in 616 Tony's life.)

In the split timeline, when Steve returns, he and Peggy use his foreknowledge to find Bucky and condemn Zola to life in prison.

[pigtailedgirl]

I’d like to talk about this article.

https://mashable.com/article/avengers-endgame-romance

God, I’ve become a rant blog about Steve and Endgame. Oh well, least I know it. 

But NO... a very important thing that gets glossed over when you try to justify Steve’s ending and characterization in Endgame, and how the MCU is selling Steggy, is that this idea

Endgame does a good job of reminding the audience that losing a chance at happiness with Peggy is Steve’s greatest regret in his life

of the romance or lack of with Steve and Peggy Carter are the greatest parts of their character and its’ conclusive take that

And an opportunity perhaps, to be satisfied with their lives.

AKA the deus ex writing to reunite them or give them this ending chance of getting together sums their lives’ satisfaction.

This is or should be absolutely anathema to anyone who looks at them as characters first. At two characters, not a ship, who were expressly not about romance equaling their character definition. It is not good writing or a good conclusion to either to then force the narrative that this was the important point to their stories.

To Steve, the character who faced ablism, loss of parents, loss of friends, war, loss of time and country and identity, who was the moral conviction and heart of surviving and overcoming and inspiring...you really think his summation of greatest regret or thing to overcome is he lost a chance of romance? That his story is defined and measured in the success of getting it with Peggy?

To Peggy, the woman who is defined as a loved character, special female character or romantic lead, no less than by Steve himself per canon as a woman above and beloved for her desire and striving to make meaningful choices and actions in her life outside the boundary of a man’s desired partner, in that she is seeking equal representation, value, and recognition of... you think her summation is she’d be satisfied to be driven solely by her romantic outcome lived potential? That a summary of her life’s contribution is boiled down to only satisfactory if she reunited or got a second chance with Steve?

Is this a parody article?!

Or I don’t get shippers. 

Because ships should have character foundations to support them, unless they crack or AU. And the problem I have with Steggy per Endgame’s example is it’s built on a shaky foundation. 

The premise that them being together justifies the character dissolving, the time and the logic and moral implications... Ship gotta answer to that. Story gotta answer to it.

And it’s not a bias. I’m equal here in that I would make the same arguments if for wild example Endgame had a conclusion where Steve murdered Thanos or went back to be with a 40s Bucky or there was an example of the ship and character being concluded that the narrative told me was supposed to make sense or be defining and supportive of, that was just as the opposite of what seemed to matter before.

That’s honestly what Steggy Endgame is to me. So, this article and shipper perspective like it, the people who say the narrative built to this...I’m baffled. Because beyond Endgame retcon saying it, NO, the narrative for Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter was not a 22 film summation about if they would end up together.  

Like maybe if you squint CATFA was selling let’s explore if maybe they could have. In just that movie. As a side plot. The rest was like a story of too bad, it sad, so anyways here’s how we did and who we were and are.

[3pirouette]

Fic: An Experimental Design (3/?)

Title: An Experimental Design By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3  Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Sequel to “What Number?”, also prompted from Steggy Bingo Bash Prompts.  Takes place about a week after that fic.

Chapter 3: Military Sanctioned Cohabitation

A/N: For the Steggy Bingo Prompt “Science Experiment.” This chapter is also inspired, in part, by the following quote from the movie Waitress, “I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for 20 minutes straight and that's all they do. They don't pull away. They don't look at your face. They don't try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight, without an ounce of selfishness to it.”

~*~

Howard stared at them in disbelief. “You mean you…” he rolled his wrist around, watching as Steve turned a peculiar shade of red in front of him.

“Fondu.” Steve filled in quickly to end the torture, his face turning bright red. “Well, almost.”

Peggy rolled her eyes and huffed. She was still exhausted and already far past embarrassed, the use of euphemism was only prolonging her discomfort and wasn’t helping them at all. “Skin to skin contact helps, but then the quality of the pain changes. It only completely resolves once I’ve achieved orgasm.  We’ve been dry humping like teenagers, Howard.” She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

Howard’s mouth hung open, his eyebrows at his hairline for a moment before he cleared his throat and looked down at his hands. They were sitting close, but not touching, across from him in his lab. It was late morning, and he’d emptied anyone and everyone who might overhear by kicking them out for lunch. Howard leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees. “And it’s only Steve?”

Peggy licked her lips, suddenly anxious. “When I fell in the briefing room, Colonel Phillips touched me. It felt like he’d torn my skin off.” Her eyes shifted between the two men. “I haven’t touched anyone else since Steve pulled me from the lab.”

Howard held out his hand slowly.

Peggy looked between Steve and Howard, and at Steve’s gentle nod, his promise that he’d be there for her if anything went wrong, she reached out and gently pressed her fingertips to his.

Relief flooded her face as she grasped his hand tighter. “Nothing.” She took a deep breath, smiling at both men. “Nothing good, nothing bad. Just… nothing.”

Howard chuckled as he let go of her, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in my life to hear that a woman felt nothing at my touch.”

Steve frowned, holding out his hand. Peggy took it and they all noticed her shoulders immediately relaxed, even though she was already happy.

“What just happened?” Howard asked, looking almost frantically between them. “What did you do?”

“I’m holding her hand,” Steve said harshly. After he left Peggy sleeping in the medical room he’d gone immediately to Phillips’ office where he’d been yelled at for over an hour. By the time Phillips ran out of things to say, Peggy was awake and asking for him. They’d barely had time to brush Peggy’s hair and find her some clothes before Howard was rushing them into his lab. Steve, who hadn’t slept in almost two days, knew he was unusually cranky and didn’t much care. “It calmed her down. Is that really that complicated, Howard?”

Peggy turned, looking at him, eyes reproachful. “Steve…”

“I haven’t slept since we left,” he leaned forward, putting his hands on his head and pressing his eyes shut tight. “I’m sorry, I’m exhausted.”

“Right, long few days,” Howard mumbled, even though he’d never, ever heard Steve bark at anyone like that, even going days without sleep. “I can understand that.” He didn’t understand it, though, and added it to his list of bizarre symptoms. Howard stood, zipping around the lab and coming back with a small ring with two keys on it. “You should get some rest.”

Steve and Peggy both looked at the keys, but Peggy beat him to the question. “What’s that for?”

Howard smiled and dangled them. “Seems dangerous to keep the two of you apart, and Phillips wants the you off base for a while. It’s an apartment just outside of London.” He bounced the keys, making them jingle in front of their faces. “Military sanctioned co-habitation.”

“Howard…” Peggy began to protest, but Howard held up his other hand, stopping her.

He dropped his hand and shrugged, handing Steve the keys. “You actually don’t get a say in this- it’s more of an experiment than anything.” He sat back down. “You told me the longer you’re apart, the worse it gets, right?”

Peggy nodded, still skeptical. “Correct.”

“Well, have you two tried not being apart?” He held out his hands, waiting, but neither could answer him. He already knew that they hadn’t, that they’d separated to their respective bunks every night like the stupid, rule following idiots they were. “Right. Well, there’s our first experiment: Cohabitation for the night.” He pointed at the two of them, eyes serious. “Legitimate research here. Touch each other, hang out, but no hanky-panky, got it? Clothes stay on, yes?” Steve and Peggy nodded. “I want to see if proximity, casual touches, can keep this thing at bay.”

Peggy’s jaw tightened. “What if it can’t?” she asked quietly, her fear only partially hidden by how calm she was.

Howard just shrugged. “You two do what you gotta do, then we try something else.” Howard caught Peggy’s eyes, holding her gaze. “I never want to see you, or anyone, in that much a pain again. But if Dugan can’t find me anything to go on, if he can’t even get me a clue as to what the hell they did to you, then I’m going to have to keep you two apart just so we can figure it out.” Howard dropped his head, taking a deep breath. “You use the numeric pain scale, right?” Steve nodded. “It gets above a three you do what you have to do.”

~*~

It was small and sparsely furnished, the way most things seemed shabby and not quite what they used to be since the war had started. Peggy slipped her duffel off her shoulder and walked around, hands gently gliding over surfaces as she passed them, leaving Steve behind to lock the door and settle their bags. The front room was serviceable: a little coffee table and a small couch and a radio. The kitchen was little more than a nook, but it was useable and she tried not to think about when the last time she’d actually cooked herself a meal was.  The bathroom was small, but cleaner and more private than anything on any base she’d seen. If the water was more than lukewarm, that alone would make this little experiment worth it.

She stopped at the door of the bedroom.

It had been months since she’d last slept on a real bed with real sheets and soft, fluffy pillows instead of the harsh, all weather canvas cots and bunks in flimsy tents and drafty bunkhouses the SSR provided. The bed took up nearly the whole room, mocking her.

“When I make love to you, Peggy, it’s not going to be up against a wall or behind a medical tent or in some goddamn mudhole where we’re both wondering if we’ll be caught any second. It’s going to be on a soft bed with nice sheets so I can take my time and kiss every inch of you, ok? I’m not… you deserve better than some tryst in the woods, ok? You deserve better and I’m going to make sure you get better.”

Steve’s voice echoed in her mind, his promise so sweet so long ago.

That choice, the choice to wait and discover one another when things were calmer, when they had all the time in the world and no duty but to one another, had been stolen.

Stolen by men behind surgical masks and clipboards.

Men who’d stripped her of her clothes and dignity.

Men who’d watched as her body had burned between pain and passion and she’d writhed on the table like some kind of snuff film actress.

A sob escaped her lips, biting and harsh. It surprised her in its ferocity, but the emotions behind it didn’t surprise her at all. She’d been holding them back for too long, trying and failing to channel them into her work.

Steve was behind her in an instant, his strong frame supporting her when her knees nearly buckled as the waves of emotion washed over her, tears pouring from her eyes. He spun her in his arms, tucking her gently to him, whispering words that made no sense to her in her hysterics.

Steve gently lowered them both to the ground, the wooden floorboards creaking below them as he held her tight.

~*~

Peggy woke up in the bed, tucked tight under the blanket, alone.

It was dark out; there was only blackness beyond the curtains, but there was light in the room coming from the crack left in the door. Beyond the room she could hear Steve puttering about in the kitchen. She took a deep breath, the sting at the back of her eyes from crying a feeling she hadn’t had in a very long time. She rubbed them, feeling worn out.

Steve had held her as she’d cried until she had spent herself. It might have been minutes, it might have been hours, she wasn’t sure. She vaguely remembered him lifting her in his arms, remembered him wrapping her up under the quilt then wrapping his body tight around her, her eyes fluttering closed with exhaustion.

It wasn’t surprising that her body was drained. Between the emotions and the physical sensations, she’d been through every extreme she could think of in the last day. Her limbs felt heavy, her stomach was flip flopping, and her head ached fiercely.

She rolled to the side and the sharp scent of Steve’s aftershave filled her nose. She took another deep breath, and felt some of the tension in her body drain.

Perhaps Howard was on to something, after all. She pealed herself from the bed, the chill in the room enough to make her shiver, but not enough to remind her of the cold of the front.

She padded quietly out of the room, squinting at the light as she emerged.

Steve smiled from where he stood at the small stove. “Good nap?”

Peggy pushed her hair behind her ears and nodded. “What are you making?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Chicken noodle soup.” He stirred the contents of the pot, “It was all that was there. Lots and lots of canned goods.”

Peggy’s smile was small, and she licked her lips. Slowly she moved over, hugging Steve tight from behind. Her head fit snugly between his shoulder blades, and she felt a bolt of calm move through her as he rubbed his hand over hers. “Thank you.”

He let his fingers lace with hers. “For what?”

“Everything.”

He brought her hand up to his lips, kissing the side of her thumb fiercely. “Always.” He set the spoon he was holding down and turned in her arms, wrapping her tight in his embrace. “I love you, Peg, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

She was successful at keeping her tears at bay with his words, but her breath still shuddered a bit as her heart pounded. She didn’t let go, but held him tighter, and he didn’t seem to mind staying right there with her. After a long moment, she smiled into his chest. “Despite everything, this is nice.”

Steve hummed in agreement, his hand cupping the back of her head gently, combing through her curls. “Not looking over our shoulders, wondering if someone’s gonna catch us.”

“Being able to hold you whenever I want.”

“For as long as I want.” He kissed the crown of her head, smiling softly. He rocked her gently back and forth, but cut the motion short and pushed her away as he turned quickly, flicking the dial on the stove off as the soup bubbled over in its pot. “Ok, maybe not as long,” he laughed, reaching for the towel by the sink.

~*~

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, Steve’s feet flat on the floor and Peggy’s feet in his lap as he quietly sketched. She was trying to read the same novel she’d been attempting to get through for two months, but it couldn’t quite hold her attention. Every few minutes Steve would ponder his next line or curve and drop his hand to her ankle, rubbing gently.

It was a wonder, these small touches. They seemed so taboo, yet so natural, and it felt completely right to give in to the need to simply touch one another all the time. They’d held hands through most of dinner, the soup easy enough to navigate with one hand, and Steve had kept his chest pressed to her back as she’d quickly cleaned the dishes, his hands resting gently on her hips.

It felt odd to be the master of her own time, to not be needed urgently here or there, to not have a meeting weighing on her mind or a report due on the colonel’s desk. She’d shoved the paperback in her duffel hastily, thinking maybe she’d finally be bored enough to invest in the mediocre love story.

Steve’s hands were infinitely more interesting.

The way he carefully kept his pencil away from her skin.

The way he stroked gently in the same pattern over and over again.

The way his hand was warm and calm and never demanded more or strayed higher than mid-calf.

She was calm. Serene.

She didn’t even feel the slightest tingle of pain.

Hours ago, the idea of being pain free, after weeks of dealing with near constant aches and stings throughout her entire body seemed unattainable. Now, it was happening and within her grasp. She sighed happily, causing Steve to look up at her, hand still gently moving on her ankle.

“You ok?” he asked, slightly concerned.

“Zero,” she smiled softly at him, her eyes warm. “Nothing at all. It’s… blissful.”

His hand pressed firmly against her leg as he smiled. “I’m glad.”

~*~

Peggy hesitated before coming out of the bathroom.

The shower had been delightful, the feeling of the water on her skin without the underlying sparks searing through her made her muscles melt with relaxation. She’d taken her time, pinning up her hair and stretching out the little bit of night cream she still had left to try to last another day. When she’d finally looked at herself in the mirror, the calmness evaporated a bit at the image of her in her ill-fitting, army issue pajamas with her hair pinned up and devoid of any make-up. Even though they’d agreed that things would stay strictly to casual touch, she still felt a pang of disappointment that the first time they were sharing a sleeping space that wasn’t a hastily constructed tent in a warzone wouldn’t be the romantic affair she’d often daydreamed about.

With a deep breath she stepped out of the bathroom and into the small bedroom. The only light was from the bedside lamp, illuminating Steve as he sat on the side of the bed, waiting for her.

He swallowed heavily and looked for all the world like the skinny, awkward boy she’d first met. “I wasn’t sure what side you wanted…” He trailed off as he stood and gestured to the bed; freshly made, pillows fluffed and waiting.

She got the feeling that he was somehow trying to impress her, standing there in his own army issue pajama pants and slightly threadbare undershirt. He didn’t seem put off by her appearance, either, and she tried to feel good about it. The thought warmed her, but did nothing for her own nerves.

She shrugged, moving past him into the dim room. “No preference, really.” The words came out far more confident than she felt, her hands tugging at the ends of her sleeves. She stepped to the far side where she had woken up earlier this afternoon. “Shall we?”

Steve nodded, pulling the covers back on his side as she pulled back hers. They both gingerly got into the bed as Steve reached over and turned off the light with a soft click, bathing them in darkness as they both settled.

“Ok?” Steve asked quietly.

“Oh yes, yes,” she replied quickly, staring up at the ceiling.

Silence stretched between them for long, quiet breaths.

“This is weird, right?” Steve asked suddenly.

Peggy laughed, a feeling of relief flooding her now that it had been said out loud. “Oh yes, quite.” She turned on her side. “Not how I imagined this at all.”

“This?” Steve turned his head, and she could make his outline out in the dark.

“Sharing a proper bed.” She held out her hand and he took it reflexively, squeezing tight.

Steve didn’t think twice before lifting the blanket and tugging at her hand. “Come here.” Peggy slid over, cuddling against his side without hesitation. “That’s better. Finally get you in a nice, soft bed and you’re all the way over on the other side of no man’s land.”

“Howard said no hanky panky,” Peggy muttered, nuzzling against his chest. “The closer I get to you the higher the potential for panky.”

Steve chuckled, gently sliding his hand over her shoulder. “Yes, but he did also say casual touching. This is casual.”

Peggy hummed happily, already feeling the pull of sleep. “Yes, and it’s lovely.”

~*~

Dugan stepped over the debris, cursing under his breath. Morita’s words behind him weren’t that different.

“You think they left us anything?” Morita asked, picking through the rubble of the abandoned base.

“Don’t know,” Dugan dropped his gun to his side, reaching down to pick up an abandoned waste paper basket by a desk. He turned it over, but it was empty. “But we better find something if we’re gonna help Peggy.”

“We bring back every single piece of paper we find,” Jones said, traipsing past them, “we leave nothing behind.”

[ibelieveinturtles]

The Running Man

Watching The Running Man and things I didn't realise or had forgotten (because I've only ever watched it once...)

It's set in 2017-2019

This could easily be on our televisions right now

It's loosely based on a Stephen King novel

The first ever outing of Arnie's famous 'I'll be back' line (actually, that's the one thing I did remember!)

This movie is so fucking 80's its not funny

I mean - those dancers!

OMG THERE WAS A STAR TREK REFERENCE JUST THEN!!!

Sweet little old is actually quite vicious and I love her

Finally, this would make an excellent MCU fic au - so many potential variations, we could have a dozen au's and still have room for more:

The Stucky version - Bucky as the framed Ben Richards, Steve as the network employee turned hostage turned runner

The Wintershock version - Darcy takes over the role of damsel in not so much distress, Steve is the resistance leader - and vice versa for the Shieldshock version

Taserbones version - Brock Rumlow is caught trying to turncoat on Hydra and gets sent to The Running Man

Pepperoni version - instead of arranging for Tony to be kidnapped by The Ten Rings, Obi frames him for black market arms dealing to terrorists. Pepper's the one who finds out the truth and ends up in there with him

Clintasha - instead of being sent to kill her, Clint is sent to trick Natasha's into the Running Man maze. He then discovers intel that she was about to defect, bringing vital information with her. He follows her in to save her but she's kicking arse on her own and ends up saving his butt

Thor/Jane - ...actually this was kind of the movie already if you squint

In all versions the shows compere is Alexander Pierce, the bloodthirsty little old lady is Peggy (except in the Steggy version, obviously). The Stalkers and secondary Runners vary, depending on who the main Runner is.