Grand Central, NYC 1929
Its not possible anymore to take such photograph, as the buildings outside block the sun rays.
I think about this at least once a day
We have this picture in our living room
this is surreal i love it
SEND ME “FINGERS THROUGH YOUR HAIR” FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION TO OPENING THEIR EYES AND FINDING THEIR HEAD LAID BACK IN YOUR MUSE’S LAP, WHILE YOUR MUSE STROKES THEIR HAIR..
Peggy was going for a nice picnic with Doreen and after eating her fill of what they’d packed, she laid out on the blanket and fallen asleep. When next she woke up, she had a view of the squirrely heroine’s head, making her quite confused, though she gathered her head was now in her lap. “Hello there?”
All of that sounded like an extremely nice answer to Peggy. Doreen appeared to be much more mature for her age than she let on or more than others expected out of her and Peggy was happy to be able to see this side of her. It was rather refreshing. “That’s a nice goal, my dear. Very mature, indeed. What makes me happy is…being able to keep others safe and I suppose when you get right down to it, it’s seeing them happy, as well. Seems like we’re similar in this regard.” She smiles warmly at the squirrely girl.
Doreen smiled above Peggy, “Just to make sure, you aren’t, like… me from the future or something, right? It’s just… we’re so very similar, it’s almost scary… ooo,” she tried to make spooky wavering sounds to go with that, “Oh, wait… Bermuda Triangle… Oh, no, it makes too much sense! Why did I cut off my tail?”
"Oh heavens no! I’m from the past, my dear. 70 years in the past to be exact." She bursts into giggles at the spooky hand waving. "Because it wasn’t good at dodging bullets? It is a marvelous tail, however. How in the world do you take showers with it or go swimming with it?"
"……alright?" Peggy takes a seat and looks at the ginger in confusion and curiosity.
(warning for discussion of real-world prosthetics and surgical procedures, if that’s not your thing, but there are no graphic medical images in the post itself.)
I have been thinking about this a LOT in the past couple of weeks, because if there is one thing I love it is robot parts and how they work - especially when those robot parts happen to be attached to living beings. I’m choosing to make this link-heavy instead of shoving in loads of images because it’s already super long, so I would definitely recommend clicking on all of the links!
edit 10/9: added a few new links & references
The more I see comparison gifs like these, the more I think - you don’t carve the out the person and leave the skills - that is not what they did at all. They kept everything of the person (even gave him some more skills) and took the memories. What you have left is a being who is a hunter, who is a killer, who is loyal, who is protective, who is sassy and talks back, etc, and who is up for grabs. Without the memories to inform WHO to protect, WHO to be loyal to, WHO (and what) it is worth killing for, they can manipulate the character traits into being protective of them, of being loyal to them, of killing for them.
In some respects, that may be even worse, when he regains his memories. Because everything he did as Winter Soldier is still him. He can not look at those events and say - that was not me - because it was. He was not a robot acting on programming - he was him, acting on false information.
- Incubus:What would someone have to do to get in your pants?
Not be you.Get to know me over the course of a few months, share our life stories, talk about our feelings, cuddle for a few more months, talk about how much we love each other and can’t live without the other. Sickly sweet things like that.”
"Hrm, interesting." He smiled a bit.
"Well, I really hope your man-hunt for a man, who is man enough for you does prove to be fruitful, Agent Carter. And the rest of us ‘bloody colonials’..” He said in a mock British accent. “…will stay clear of your way.
There will be other girls. I’m not worried.Good luck with that.”
He shrugged, his hands roaming to his pockets.
"Why are you emphasizing the word man? Are you implying that men can’t be sensitive too?" She rolls her eyes at his terrible accent. "Well, ain’t that just swell, ace. I’m eager as a beaver to see yous guys go." Her tone mock Brooklyn in return. "
I’m a woman, you know. Enjoy the endless giggles and utter idiocy.”
"No, they can. I should know. I’m pretty sensitive myself. It’s one of my endearing qualities. Why women love me. Steve just keeps screwing it up for me, before I can close the deal, is all." He cleared his throat. "And you weren’t exactly beating me off with a stick, when we did shag the other night. You know I have my damn merits." He smiled smugly, and then just laughs, when Peggy makes fun of his accent.
"Haha! That’s great, Peggy. Come on, you really just come off as sexist and bitter against men. You want to prove yourself in combat, and challenge the status quo. But there’s a price tag attached with war. Even when you go to war, if you survive, you never come out the same man as going in. Now I know why my father always drank, when he came back from the Great War…and yelled at my Mom."
He looks away, for a moment, as he puts a cigarette between his lips, becoming stressed just talking about it. ”…Be careful of what you ask for.”
"One of your…" She just rolls her eyes, a half smirk creasing her lips. Sure he had something like that, though maybe he really did. She didn’t get to know him exactly well enough to see it, and he was rather considerate of her during their encounter. Though she figured she was just another lay to him and while she hated that she might be that to him, at least she’d proved him wrong. "More like I was beating you off…you say that as if you’re trying to prove yourself to me, James."
"I don’t care how I come off as. As long as I do my duty and we win this bloody war, I could be the queen bitch to every man on this base." Except Steve. She knew Steve knew her better than what James had pegged her as, mostly because they had time to talk and pour out their souls to the other. James was coming to conclusions. "Were you drafted into this war, James? Or did you volunteer?" It sounded as if he didn’t want to be here, not by a long shot.
Where did he get a cigarette? Bloody things were practically rationed to the nines. “I know full well what I’m getting into. I’ve seen combat before. And for the record, I know you won’t turn into your father.”