Avengers-Peggy smile

Now taking Agent Carter prompts!

ETA: Between here and tumblr, I think I have enough for now; I'll go ahead and fill the remaining ones over the next few days. Thank you! I'm sure I'll do this again soon. :D

The masterlist (updated as I finish things)

Peggy with young Tony and a Jarvis or two
Peggy&Howard&Jarvis in an awkward situation (also on Tumblr)
Michael Carter was turned into a werewolf (also on Tumblr)
Ana Jarvis takes fighting lessons from Peggy (also on LJ: comment part 1 / comment part 2)
Angie shows up at the L.A manor and meets all of Peggy's weirdo friends there (also on AO3)
Daniel finds that watching Peggy get hurt never gets easier
Follow-up to Pistol Packin' Mama with the OT3 (also on AO3)
Jack helping Peggy and Daniel with house hunting (posted to my non-fanfic blog; reblogged to sholiofic here)
Howard missing Steve (also on Tumblr)
Angie and Peggy's girl's night out (also on Tumblr)
Michael Carter meets Peggy's friends and new boyfriend
Halloween in the Carter-Sousa household
Jarvis and Daniel h/c (also on tumblr)
Suburbanite Peggy doing background checks on the neighbors
Jack, Peggy and Daniel go fishing
Peggy brings a knife to a gun fight
Peggy and Jack take care of Daniel (also on tumblr)

Not for a specific prompt but included here for completeness:
Sad ficlet about the 1940s characters' deaths (not included in the SSR Files compilation on AO3 because I didn't want to smack people with sudden deathfic)
Paranormal high school AU snippets (also not in the AO3 compilation since it's a collaborative Tumblr thing)
Peggy, Jarvis, and avocados
Peggy and Daniel's first date with dead bodies (Jack POV)

My houseguests are gone, so I have time for a commentfic spree! Who cares about network TV execs; we'll make our own fun around here. Leave me an Agent Carter prompt and I will write at least 100 words of fic for it. (Here are examples from the last time I did this.)

Taking prompts for any character or gen character combination; any canon pairing; or any pairing combination of Carter/Sousa/Thompson (OT3 4evah). You can send me prompts for other pairings, but results are even less guaranteed than usual. (Or you might get a gen version instead.)

The usual caveat: I am not always good at follow-through, so I may not get to your prompt; if I don't, it's me, not you! I might also ask you to leave me a different one if I don't think I can do anything with the prompt you gave me. I'll close the post to new prompts when I have enough that I start to feel like I'm reaching prompt saturation.

You can also send me your prompt as a tumblr ask. I will also be posting fills to sholiofic.

This entry is also posted at http://sholio.dreamwidth.org/1083489.html with comment count unavailable comments.
Ana Jarvis! More awesome things like the garter-holster! Awesomeness in general! I am very excited about this XD
Ana fic (1/2)
"Miss Carter, I would like to ask a favor of you."

Peggy looked up, startled; she'd been poring over SSR papers in the Stark living room (one of the living rooms, that is), while Howard's ever-present portrait presided over her. "Of course. Anything."

"This is not a simple thing." Ana sat down carefully across from her. She was getting around much better now, but still moved stiffly; as Peggy knew from personal experience, getting over abdominal wounds took time. Her own still pained her occasionally, something she had absolutely no intention of telling anyone, particularly Daniel.

"It doesn't matter if it's difficult. Please, anything you like." Even knowing that the Jarvises didn't blame her for Ana's shooting, Peggy still struggled with the feeling that she had a lot to make up for. She was the one who had brought danger into their world. It seemed unfair that Ana had been the one to suffer for it.

Ana folded her hands on the table. "I would like to learn to fight."

"Oh," Peggy said, startled.

"Don't look at me like that. Please. I know no one else I can ask. No one who would teach me seriously, no one who would not pat me on the head and send me off. Even Edwin does not understand. Please, Miss Carter." Her hands were knotted together now.

"I can show you some things, but ... Ana, are you sure?"

"I am done running," Ana said. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were pleading. "Back in Budapest, I knew how to do nothing except hide and run. If only someone like you had been able to teach me then!"

"You couldn't have fought the Third Reich, Ana!"

"You did," Ana said simply.

And Peggy had to stop and think about that. She would have had no problem showing Rose a few moves, although Rose was fairly good already. And back in New York, she had taught Angie a few things to go with the dirty street-fighting moves that all the Martinellis picked up in grade school.

Why was Ana different? She wasn't, of course. The world was dangerous for civilian and combatant alike; violence came to the gentle and to the fierce. The war had proven that a million times over.

"Of course I'll teach you," she said, and Ana beamed.

(continued in next comment, as I have exceeded the comment limit AS PER USUAL)
Ana fic (2/2)
To Peggy's discomfiture, Ana showed up to their first lesson wearing a veritable arsenal. Peggy recalled that Ana had been entertaining herself during her convalescence with sewing and crochet; what she had not noticed, and it seemed no one else had either, was that Ana had made herself a matching set of lace-edged undergarments that contained knives, brass knuckles, a small gun to match the one Ana had provided for Peggy's garter holster, and even a leg sheath, padded with a knitted sleeve in delicate blues and shell-pink, that contained a tire iron. ("But one can only wear it under a heavy skirt, and this weather is too hot for it, of course ...")

"Ana ..." Peggy gently relieved her of the tire iron. "I should start by mentioning that weapons are all well and good, quite useful really, but having a lot of weapons you don't know how to use will only slow you down and get you hurt. Cleverness and a willingness to deal harm to others will go a good deal farther than an arsenal."

"A willingness to deal harm to others," Ana repeated. She was intent, soaking it all up, practically quivering with interest.

"Yes ..." And Peggy was able to nail down, now, precisely why the idea of teaching Ana to fight bothered her in a way that it didn't with Rose or Angie. It wasn't that Ana was too delicate or that she deserved to be coddled in a way the others didn't. It was that Peggy wasn't sure if Ana could get in touch with that part of herself that was willing to watch bruises bloom on someone else's skin, blood erupt from someone else's flesh, and still keep hurting them, until they stopped trying to hurt you. And if it wasn't something that came naturally, she wasn't sure if it was morally justifiable to teach Ana to reach for it until she could do it.

Everyone has anger. Some of us eat it; some of us wear it on the surface ... but considering what she's been through, she must have more than most.

And she reminded herself that during the war, millions of boys had had no choice. Whether they were angry or not, whether they wanted to fight or not. But for an accident of her sex, Ana would have gone off to war, and it would not have mattered to anyone whether she was a gentle soul or not, whether she wanted to shoot someone or not.

And of course, in the end, as the war had ground on in its vile tracks, it didn't matter whether she was a woman or not, a civilian or not. They would have shot her just the same.

Like Whitney did.

Because of me.

"First," Peggy said, taking Ana's hand in hers and gently folding over her fingers, "I'll show you how to make a fist."


... and basically this is about 5% of a fic I now need to write about Ana dealing with undiagnosed PTSD and Peggy dealing with her unacknowledged guilt and so forth. >_>

Edited at 2016-05-15 06:38 am (UTC)
Re: Ana fic (2/2)
OH MY GOD OH MY GD THIS IS BRILLIANT. Ana's preparation for her first lesson with weapons hidden all over her is so believable. And her eagerness to learn - I concur. Anyone faced with the possibility of death will take learning how to defend themselves very seriously. And PEGGYYYY!! I totally believe that she still feels guilty, the darling. And I love that she has her own preconceived notions to get over. Love this so much!
Re: Ana fic (2/2)
Thank you so much; I'm so happy you liked it! ♥ I just want more of Ana making clever pockets for hiding weapons in people's clothing. And Ana and Peggy. And all the Ana basically. :D
Re: Ana fic (2/2)
I would love to see the other 95% of the fic, but I also love what you've done here.

Your characterization of both women is right on. And of course, there's so much that goes unsaid between them!
Re: Ana fic (2/2)
Thank you so much! :D I would actually love to write the rest of it ... but it's got to wait in line for all the OTHER fics I want to write ...
I finally got to this one! :D

The thing that had come as a complete shock to Daniel was how well Jarvis actually handled himself in a firefight. It was easy to forget that the guy had been in the war like the rest of them. Jarvis hadn't actually shot anyone, but he'd kept a level head, handed loaded weapons and ammo to Daniel, and did a surprisingly good job of fending off two of their assailants with a crowbar.

Now they were barricaded in a storeroom, completely out of ammo, and Jarvis -- still completely calm despite all the blood -- was bandaging Daniel's arm using both their ties and part of his own shirt.

"You're good at this," Daniel remarked, because he needed to talk -- he hadn't realized that keeping himself calm was actually going to be the difficult part. At least it wasn't his right arm, but it was the left one, his crutch arm. He didn't have any more limbs to lose at this point, and every time he moved, pain ground down to his fingertips.

"Believe me, dealing with Mr. Stark, not to mention Miss Carter's exploits, leaves a person with a certain ability to roll with the punches, as it were." Jarvis snugged the tie tight around Daniel's forearm, and Daniel clenched his teeth on a rush of cold sweat and nausea. It wasn't entirely physical. He could deal with using the crutch with his right arm for a few days while the left one healed, but his brain kept giving him nightmarish images of his left arm truncated, ending in a hook.

It's not going to turn out that way. Not this time.

Things were ominously quiet outside the door. "You think Peggy got our distress call?" Daniel asked, only realizing after the words were out of his mouth that he was supposed to be the one offering reassurances, not asking for them.

"I am quite sure she did."

Even as Jarvis said it, there was a muffled explosion, shuddering down through the entire facility.

"Yeah," Daniel said, and gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up from the pile of old sacks that had been serving as a makeshift bed. Jarvis offered a supportive hand, fingers stained with dried blood, but Daniel shook his head and gripped the crutch with his good right hand, trying to adjust to leaning his weight on the unaccustomed side.

"I assume that's Miss Carter," Jarvis said, as another explosion set dust sifting down from the ceiling.

"I think it's safe to say that, yes." He only hoped there would be enough of their attackers alive to question once she found all the blood.

"Shall we go?" The words were casual, but the look Jarvis gave him was more eloquent: Are you up to this?

Daniel offered him a smile -- tight, but genuine -- and limped forward, trying not to get his leg tangled up with the crutch while leaning in an unfamiliar direction. "Let's give her some backup. Ready to use that crowbar?"

"Nothing would give me more pleasure."

Edited at 2016-06-18 10:59 am (UTC)
"I assume that's Miss Carter," Jarvis said, as another explosion set dust sifting down from the ceiling.

Jarvis and Sousa are an interesting pairing. I'd like to see more of them together.
Lovely fic, love how calm and unruffled Jarvis was. Thanks for writing it for me.
"Here," Angie announced, tossing a frock onto Peggy's bed. "You're gonna wear this. And you're gonna have fun tonight."

"Excuse me?" She'd just gotten in from an exhausting day at the SSR. Her feet hurt, her hair was wilted, and she couldn't figure out how Angie could still be this chipper after what had to have been an equally wearying day at the automat.

"Come on, English. No is not an option. We're going to dance, make eyes at the boys, and get them to buy all our drinks for us."

Peggy flopped onto the bed. It was all she felt like doing. "I ... I'm not good at dancing."

"You don't have to be good at it, especially after a few drinks. Nobody will care."

"But ... no ... Angie ..." She was being dragged off the bed, whether she wanted to go or not. Her sprained shoulder from hitting that man with a blackjack last week twinged.

And then she thought: bollocks, why not? True, she was tired; true, she had to be up in seven hours to get ready for work again.

But she wasn't even thirty yet, and she'd survived the war and a job that seemed hell-bent on killing her. Her best friend, having let go of her arm, was standing there in an alarmingly short dress with a swishy skirt, hands on hips and eyes bright, waiting for her.

And Peggy felt a renewed surge of energy. She had never lived that life, the lives of these young New York girls, who worked all day and danced all night. But in that instant, she could see how and why they did it. They were young, and alive, and maybe even after everything she done, she still had a few things to learn about living from women who had never crossed the ocean and shot men in war.

"Give me five minutes to change and I'll be there," Peggy promised, seizing the frock. And Angie's face lit up with a smile as bright as sunshine.
This is just lovely. Thank you so much for writing something for my prompt! I love Peggy seizing the chance to enjoy life and Angie being the one who gets her to do that.
Thank you; it was a fun prompt and I wish I'd managed something longer for it! I love their friendship so much. :D