Agent Carter Wants YOU

If you’re watching this show, you know how awesome it’s been so far, and you’re eagerly awaiting more. If you AREN’T already watching this show… Why the hell not?

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Haylet Atwell is absolutely amazing as Peggy Carter, the story is rich, the characters are interesting – and best of all, Peggy is a competent human being, a woman, and a PERSON. She’s not a cliche in high-heels, she’s got motivations, emotional depth, and she screws up sometimes. She’ll still lay you out flat on your ass if she has to, but with the power of her wits and a nasty right-hook.

Jarvis is perfect, Howard Stark is a delightfully douchey douchebag, and just… all the characters are so so good.

There are itty-bitty Black Widows, tie ins to the vast array of Marvel comic plotlines, and great fight-choreography, excellent writing, and sharply funny dialogue.

I know it’s not really in a good time-slot and it hasn’t gotten the press it deserves, but folks, this show is ground-breaking. Not only is this a good show with a female lead in a major comic property, but showing big support for it is how we get more female leads, more diversity in general. This is how we get movies that don’t center around a straight white guy and his hero journey. You want a Black Widow stand-alone movie? Start by showing that a leading lady sells like a leading man (or ideally sells BETTER), and we’ll get her.

(Also, how can you NOT enjoy Peggy beating the daylights out of a thug with a stapler?)


(For those who’ve been following for a while, you may remember this sketch from last summer, that I never really did much with. Well, now I have :D)

 

Bucky in a Comfy Sweater

Why must people put cute images in my head? Someone suggested drawing Bucky in a soft sweater being cozy, and… well I had to.

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(I imagine that it’s easiest to keep the arm uncovered so fabric doesn’t get caught in the plates, and it’s not like it can really get all that cold, so he just rolls up the sleeve.)

And now I’m going to ruin it. Because I’m mean.




The enormous windows really freaked Barnes out when he first came to stay in Stark Avengers Tower. If he’d been jumpy in the elevator, that was nothing compared to his reaction when they reached Steve’s floor. What the hell was Stark’s obsession with being visible at all times?
And the windows  vulnerabilities were everywhere. Half the walls in the place were made up of huge planes of glass. Bucky felt exposed. Vulnerable. Threatened. Defensive.
It was a rough first couple of weeks, until Jarvis finally blacked the panes out, and Bucky felt like he could breathe again.

For weeks he wouldn’t go near them, opaque or not, and tensed up noticeably anytime Steve strayed near one. He was convinced someone would come crashing through one of them in a full-scale assault on the building any time now. Fucking superheroes lived here. This place wasn’t safe. It was a huge blinking sign that read ‘please attack here’.

He didn’t care how often Stark Jr. swore up and down that the window material was stronger than steel. He didn’t care if there was supposedly some kind of super-advanced tech that prevented people from seeing in. He really didn’t care if Stark’s creepy robot butler told him it was safe – because what the hell did JARVIS know about HYRDA, anyway?

Fuck. Windows. All of them. That was Bucky’s stance.

So Steve is, understandably, confused, when he comes home one evening to find his best friend sprawled out across the over-wide sill of a newly transparent window in their living room, wrapped up in the thickest, softest sweater Steve could find on offer in New York City, and his favorite khaki blanket.
It is, unsurprisingly, one of the only windows on the entire floor that isn’t overwhelmingly huge – roughly the right size for a 6-foot tall man to stretch out in- and has soft, soothingly light-blue curtains as a gentle frame-work around it. The whole setup makes for a pretty inviting seat, and Steve used to sit here to sketch when it was just him and he needed to keep his hands busy. He never really thought about it before, but this thing was probably very carefully designed precisely to calm down jumpy, nightmare-plagued veterans… Just- probably not the one who’s sitting in it now.
Stark might be obnoxious, but he notices little things that people need sometimes, even before they know it themselves…

Bucky looks sleepy and contemplative, a resigned sort of relaxation to him, that looks downright peaceful after months of looking over his shoulder and flinching if anyone got too close.
Bucky even dragged over some throw-pillows from the couch to lean on, and seems to have gotten about halfway through one of Steve’s ‘must read’ novels before getting distracted by the view outside – or maybe the one inside his own head. With everything Bucky’s been through, it can be hard to tell what he’s thinking.
A mug of what smells like the fragrant pomegranate tea that he pilfered from the common kitchen last week is still steaming gently against his knee, balanced by metal fingertips, and forgotten for now.

There’s no chance that Bucky didn’t hear him come in , but Barnes doesn’t turn his head; just sits where he is, still and thoughtful and silent. His flesh and blood fingers remain pressed softly against the cold, clear glass, like he keeps expecting it to disappear.

“It’s not the same.” Bucky says quietly after a few minutes of silence. “It’s… almost like… It’s close …, but- …” he can’t seem to decide on the right words, and shrugs, still gazing out into the late January snow, then falls silent again.

“It’s close, but not quite right?” Steve supplies softly, coming to stand close to the window, careful not to block Barnes in. Bucky hates it when he doesn’t have a clear path to the nearest door.
There’s no answer but a soft exhale against the glass, so he presses on.
“… I know what you mean. S’like a bad dream sometimes. But it’s still home. Just… grew up a little while we were gone.”

“This is as close to the city as I’ve gotten in… months.” Bucky still hasn’t turned his head. Just watches his breath fog and fade against the window. “Me, I mean. Not him.” The words sound like they catch a little coming out. “I don’t know, or care where he’s been. Not right now.” Steve refrains from flinching at the way Bucky still disassociates from what was done through him. He prefers it to the screaming nightmares, in that Bucky seems to suffer less, but he’s been reminded mulitples times by Sam that he really shouldn’t be encouraging it. It isn’t healthy and it’s not helping Bucky heal. Steve’s never been all that good at tough love, though; and how do you remind your best friend that the mass murder they committed was still technically them, even if it was against their will? … Yeah, he’ll let someone who knows what the hell they’re doing tackle that, before he makes it worse.
“Could be totally fake, for all I know.” Bucky continues, interrupting Steve’s thoughts, his voice flat. “Just a picture… or a video, or whatever. Could be a trick and I’d never know it.”

“S’not a trick, Buck.” Steve crouches down to look out too, resting his elbows carefully by Bucky’s feet, eyes tracing a small white flake as it careens past. When Bucky doesn’t move away, he goes on. “The world changed, is all. This is just what it looks like now.”

Bucky looks out in silence for a few more minutes, then finally turns and looks at Steve. He looks so tired. So beaten down, despite all the positive progress he’s made since he came back.
“Yeah?” he asks quietly, less a question and more of an invitation.

“Yeah. You’ll get used to it eventually.”

Bucky seems to mull that over, then abandons his book entirely and clutches the mug in his lap with both hands, like he’s drawing strength from the violently pink, fruit-scented beverage inside. He takes a deep breath and fixes his gaze firmly on Steve’s.
“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Yeah. Ok.” Two words that mean a lot more than that. Steve hears I trust you. I believe you. I’m still following you. He leans down and rests his head against Bucky’s leg, and Bucky lets him.

“It’s still real pretty in the snow, though.” Steve tells the blanket, though he knows Bucky can hear him just fine.

“Yeah.” Bucky agrees quietly, taking a long sip, and almost, almost smiling, just the tiniest bit. His hand ghosts over Steve’s shoulder, balks, then finally settles, tentative as a a fluttering bird, just barely touching the shirt-sleeve. It’s the first voluntary contact he’s initiated in days. Bucky’s eyes are back on the snow outside when Steve glances up at him, trying not to ruin the fragile moment with the weight of his smile. Steve looks away and buries his relief in a thick fold of the blanket. He’ll take any connection they can have right now.
“It really is.”

Good Days

Since my last post was a little on the depressing side (PTSD, panic attacks, that sort of thing) I thought I’d give you all something a little happier to make up for it.

Here’s one of those ‘good days’ I mentioned:

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It’s well into the sunrise, and he could probably catch up to Steve and Sam if he really wanted to, do a couple laps of the city. … Well he could catch up with Sam, anyway. Steve’s probably halfway to Pennsylvania by now, knowing him.
But it feels good, just this once, to lie around in bed and just exist. They’re always so busy, and Bucky doesn’t get to spend a lot of time with Natasha that doesn’t involve dodging bullets or patching each other up after a long mission. Nat is awake (for a given value of awake) and lounging loose and sleepy over the comforter in her ratty old pajama shirt and some hard-used gym shorts. She’s a warm, comforting presence at his back and she’s not exactly encouraging him to get moving. He leans his head back against her stomach and coils the cool metal fingertips of his left hand around her bicep, laughing a little when she twitches and mutters under her breath about cold fingers getting broken off if he doesn’t warn her next time. It’s obvious she’s only teasing when she just mutters instead of swatting him away. She gives up on the facade of irritation pretty quickly, though, and breaks into a lazy smile, rolling her head over look at him. A thrum of warm contentment ripples up from his belly. This is nice.
He closes his eyes and lets himself go boneless when Natasha pets her fingers through his hair.

Steve won’t miss him, just this once.


 

Some of  you may remember the lineart for this from forever ago, drawn by hand while I was out in CA visiting my oldest brother. It seemed like it was high time I did something with that drawing 🙂

There Are Good Days, and Then There Are Bad Days…

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Bucky has his good days. Sometimes he’s a sarcastic smart-ass and charms the pants off everybody in the building. Other times…
Well, other times aren’t so good.

It’s never easy to watch your best friend shake apart like the entire world is coming to an end, but Steve is almost starting to get used to it.

He knows it’s a bad day when Bucky’s eyes abruptly go blank and empty and he goes deathly quiet. That’s usually followed closely by a memory, and like clockwork, by the panic attack.  He does what he can, holds onto Bucky and anchors him until it passes.
At least there’s more of him to offer now. Something solid, instead of the paper-thin wisp of nothing he used to present. He can wrap himself around his best friend and shield him from the world when he has to. And maybe, that makes everything he’s endured up to this point worth it…

He says he’s almost used to it when Natasha asks how he’s holding up. Bumps Buck’s shoulder and makes a smart-ass remark when he apologizes later – when his head’s back in more or less one piece again.
Steve shrugs and says he’s almost used to it.
He’s lying.

 

 


 

 

More artwork is on the way kids. I just got bitten by the inspiration bug. (BTW, this was drawn with essentially no references, so I’m pretty happy with how it came out. It’s not perfect, but it’s not half bad either :D)

 

AVENGERS GENDER-BEND – Nick Fury

Ladies and gentlemen: Ms. Nicolette ‘Nic’ J. Fury.

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Nic has a long history of spy-work, dating back to the early days of S.H.I.E.L.D. She moved up the ranks as a high-level Special Forces officer, before moving more and more toward espionage, eventually joining S.H.I.E.L.D. in the mid 1960s. She became the agency’s Director at the request of longtime friend Alexendra Pierce (who was later revealed to be not only definitely not a friend, but a mass-murderer and a traitor as well).  Nic takes her work VERY seriously, and does little else with her time. She is a hardass, a badass, and she gets her job done, however she has to.  She’s always one step ahead, thinking the long game, and ready to put herself on the line if it protects the greater good.
While Nic usually operates within the protocols of S.H.I.E.L.D., she will do what she feels is right regardless of what the higher-ups might have to say about it. (See her interactions with the World Security Council during the Battle of New York, and her assisted take-down of S.H.I.E.L.D. with Captain America, once HYDRA’s infestation of it was revealed.)

And, while she still expects just as much out of her operatives as she herself puts in, Nic is still reluctantly close to many of her people, including Marcus Hill (her second in command), Christine Rogers, and Nathaniel Romanoff ((the Black Widow) – shown below having just used the Widow’s Bite on himself to short-circuit the booby-trapped badge he’s wearing)).

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She rarely openly shows affection to her operatives, but she will defend them to the best of her ability, and she does her utmost to see to it that they keep breathing for the foreseeable future. Trust is not something she does voluntarily, even with those closest to her. She is known to have entrusted a critical flash-drive to Rogers during the Project Insight disaster, but otherwise plays everything very, VERY close to her chest.

Be glad she’s on our side.

Avengers Gender-bend – Sam Wilson/Falcon

Whew, it’s been a while since I did one of these, but at last, we have Samantha (‘call me Sam’) Wilson.

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Sam used to work para-rescue before she lost her partner, Riley, during a routine rescue exercise. After that she drifted out of the service and became a VA councilor. She kept tabs on her wings, even though she wasn’t using them anymore, as they felt like a part of her. She loves her job and she loves helping people, but she really misses the rush of clouds shooting past and diving through the air. She’s about to get that rush back.

She met Christine Rogers while jogging one morning and the two quickly became friends. Later, when Captain America  asked for her help? There was no better reason to get back in.

Out to Dinner – Bucky and Steve mini-comic

Damn you Tumblr, stop eating my brains with fan-comic/image inspirations!

Based on this prompt.

As usual, click to full-view.

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I changed the parent’s gender because why should this comic be about nothing but guys? Also, I feel like lady vets get largely ignored, and that’s BS, so here’s a lady who’s not only a vet, but also an amputee and a loving mom. And yes, she has a bad-ass yellow Stark-tech arm. Because that’s how she rolls.

(I had more fun than is probably normal or healthy drawing the kid and Steve’s fluffy haircuts. I like fluffy hair, what can I say?)