Answering separately, because I KNOW, RIGHT?
Bucky’s poster at the exhibit is adorable – “in an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.” It almost makes it sound like they knew each other briefly in middle school, then lost touch and, years later, Steve just happened to be liberating the right place at the right time, which, wow, really makes you think, if that’s the history the world remembered.
There have to be some reports, perhaps Howard kept notes? He was around in the weapons’ division, perhaps he wanted something more substantial than “Cap shot a guy and the gun you made broke.”
“Excuse you, my guns don’t break.”
“Okay, Cap ran out of bullets and he started using it as a club, and then the Kraut mentioned Sarge, so he had a wee little accident? On the plus side, Cap managed to dent a tank with it, I mean eventually, so job well done?”
And Howard just stares at the submachine gun he lovingly put together for maximum accuracy and minimum kickback and picks up a bloodied half of it through a napkin and says “A==>ha.”
Peggy just looks at it and jots it down as “lost to self-inflicted friendly fire.” Philips doesn’t even bother, at that point, just signs Rogers’ weapons requisition forms in blanco. It’s faster, cheaper, and easier on his ulcers.
Tag: fanfic
And yet fanfiction is an inherently transformative work which, by its very nature, strives to address or change some flaw that exists in canon, even if that flaw is “why isn’t there more of this thing?!” Fanfiction has addressed the lack of gay men by making straight characters gay; it’s addressed countless cultural misappropriations with wildly varying AUs; it’s addressed canon plot holes and timeline issues with fix-it fics and crossovers. Fanfic is the show your show could be like, if only you dared to dream.
But for all its transformative nature, fanfiction and fandom still suffer from a real dearth of femslash. Beyond the simple fact that very few girls exist in canon materials, the societal emphasis on the male gaze seems to have affected fanficcers’ creativity to such an extent that even in our own fantasies, we cannot give women a fair shake. Just as the answer to “Why is there so much slash?” cannot be boiled down to “ Well, straight girls are horny”, the answer to “Why isn’t there any femslash?” cannot be boiled down to “Well, straight girls don’t care.” The bias against female characters and female pleasure is an ingrained, institutionalized problem which won’t go away on its own.
Conclusion of Lady Geek Girl and Friends’s fascinating article on femslash and fandom (do give it a read if you’re interested!)
interesting
(via spiralstreesandcupsoftea)
This is the last one for now: the fifth reason why one may want to kidnap Tony Stark as presented in Four (Or Five) Reasons for Kidnapping Tony Stark by Scifigrl47. There is still one thing I’d like to draw for this fic, but I don’t know when or if I’ll be able to do it.
HAHAHAHHAH! Look at the armor’s replacement arm! Fantastic!
Also Steve’s cranky face. You know he remembered this at some point and Tony had to explain himself.
It’s such a pleasant thought.
“Scrawled right there in huge red letters, pockmarked by brick dust and written over a dozen different bits of paper as well the wall, was the word DISOBEY.”
Art inspired by Memory by emilyenrose. Read it and weep.
Same Dan, same.
I mean, yes, this is true, but I also feel like Peggy has better sense than to volunteer as the guinea pig for an experiment when the previous test subject developed megalomania, noselessness, and terrible case of red cranium.
Volunteering AFTER Steve successfully beefcaked up without contracting supervillainous side effects is far more sensible — similar to what happens in roboticonography’s amazing fic Flames We Never Lit.
I may be writing an AU where Peggy has always been sick and is actually dying when a newly arrived Erskine offers her the prototype serum to save her life…
clint barton + the circushow badly I want Clint,
wearing spangly purple,
and shooting arrows while standing on the back of a galloping horse. (A white horse, very dramatically white, if you know anything about white horses then you know this means the horse is old, older perhaps than Clint). It’s the circus, so naturally at some point or other the horse is nonchalantly jumping over fire.
Greasepaint to cover the bruises (learn easy, learn hard, as long as you learn)
The horse is hungry,
Clint is hungrier, (the animals eat first, it is ever thus)
the show must go on.
Seventeen years old and two hundred and thirty-two miles from Waverly, Iowa (it’s the farthest he’s ever been from the place he was born, although he doesn’t know that)
white horse (twenty years old, born in Texas, has travelled farther than the archer standing on her back has ever dreamed, Clint has never seen the ocean, the old circus mare has),
fire (eternal),
arrows (stick and string from the paleolithic era)
Jewish Bucky pls
Title: Day Of Atonement
Rating: PG
Summary: Bucky thinks he’s got a lot to atone for. Fortunately, there’s a holy day for that.
Notes: Thanks to arsenicjade for checking this one over for me. 😀When Steve was little, he didn’t comprehend or even notice that good boys from his building didn’t play with the Jewish boys one block over. When he got older he understood it, but ignored it; after all, his mom didn’t care, so why should he?
Sarah Rogers didn’t give an Irish damn what the biddies in the parish thought of her or her son, as few of them had raised much of a hand to help her when Joseph was alive, and anyone she chose to associate with didn’t give a damn either. On the few occasions someone pointed out Steve’s choice in friends, she said, with an affectionate smile, “Well, Steve’s never been good at idiot rules.”
Steve ran about for most of his childhood in short pants with Bucky Barnes (Lefty Commie Jewish ma, Lefty Commie Convert dad) and Arnie Roth (orthodox, kind-hearted father, dead mother), who lived on the border between the Jewish neighborhood and the Irish one, an invisible but very tough membrane. Arnie drifted off eventually, too scared of seeming any kind of different to play with goyim, but Bucky and Steve battled angry Irish boys in Steve’s half of the street and (less often) tough Jewish boys in Bucky’s half, and soon enough most people who knew them left them alone. Sarah kept a jar of kosher pickles and a special plate for Bucky when he visited, and while she couldn’t send food over to the Barnes family, she did look after Bucky and Becca when the Barnes parents needed to go to a rally or a protest, and the time the strikebreakers put Bucky’s dad in a bad way because he was trying to Unionize.
If Steve ate a lot more matzoh growing up than most Irish, Bucky and Becca occasionally got a meal that might not strictly speaking be entirely kosher.
“Do you remember Yom Kippur back in ‘35, the year after my mom died?” Steve asked. He tried not to ask do you remember too often, but Erev Yom Kippur was in two days, and he didn’t know if Bucky would want to remember, or to participate.
“You wanted to fast with us,” Bucky said, sitting at Sam’s kitchen bar. “Mom wouldn’t let you. She had the Rabbi in to tell you the sick didn’t have to fast.”
“He boxed my ears when I lipped off to him, too.”
“He said that you were a gentile anyway, which was punishment enough.”
“Never lipped off to the Rabbi again,” Steve said ruefully, and Bucky smiled. “It’s comin’ up, you know.”
The smile dropped off his face. “I know.”
“Sam would drive you to Temple if you wanted. We could both fast with you,” Steve ventured. Bucky hadn’t left the house since they’d brought him here.
“Don’t remember much — ” Bucky’s lips twisted. “Bet I could still make kreplach, all the times we watched Mom do it, but the prayers, the words, it’s all…”
He made a faint gesture, fingers fluttering away from his head. Lost to the Winter Soldier.
“They got me,” he said bitterly. “They didn’t put me in a camp but they got me just the same.”
“Hey, no, it’ll come back,” Steve said. “It will. If you can still make kreplach you can still pray. That kinda stuff doesn’t leave you, Buck.”
“It’s Yom Kippur. I got a lot to atone for. There’s too much — “
"I don’t believe that, and I don’t think you do either, not deep down. Anyway, your dad always said the best thing about bein’ a Jew was wholesale one-day forgiveness,” Steve said. Bucky’s mom had always swatted him for that.
Bucky looked at him, head bent, only his eyes moving. “What if I can’t remember?”
“Well, then you’ll have to go back to Hebrew school,” Steve said with a grin. “I hear the Rabbis don’t box ears anymore.”
“Bet they would if you lipped off to them, you were the worst at lipping off,” Bucky replied.
"So you’ll go? Sam and I will come if you want, at least, you know — ”
“Yeah, fine,” Bucky sighed. “I don’t know, dragging you two goyim around with me, G-d better send me patience for the pair of you…”
@actuallyclintbarton , this is relevant to your interests. 🙂
Here’s your soundtrack!
Where is My Mind? by Pixies
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrdpliMfoAMI hope you all have enjoyed reading!! Comments, feedback, and anything else you want to send my way is loved and cherished. I love to know what you think! I will reward you all with dancing animals gifs. ❤
And happy reading to all who have patiently waited for the fic to be complete before diving in. 🙂
In a fandom with many beautiful stories where the narrator or the information they hold as truth may be unreliable, this is something I think is unique and special. Brightwork just finished posting today, and it’s a story I’ve followed with interest since it began. notoska takes a fascinating ‘what if?’ premise and teases it out over twenty-two chapters as the characters travel around the world, tracking down the remnants of Hydra and finding tiny pieces of the puzzle. There’s a tension that runs through the whole story that’s equal to any conspiracy thriller, and the reveal, when it finally happens, is so small and subtle that you’d be forgiven for thinking it completely opaque unless you’ve got a very good memory for minutiae (or you do what I do, dig back into the story and find the answer) and realise its profound significance. It’s not a story for people who need everything wrapped up in a bow or are unsatisfied with open endings, but for those of you (like me) who love a story for the beauty of its construction, for those who love seeing characters struggle and don’t need to see them triumph, just survive, for those who like to see Steve, Bucky, Sam and Natasha questioning everything they know, then this story is for you.
Cohabitation in the Twenty-first Century: Rules and Guidelines by Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes (a fic by notallbees & lickerswish, resident tumblr grannies)
—
lickerswish and I started writing stupid rules for Steve and Bucky living together post-Winter Soldier, and then it somehow morphed into this!?
You can also read on Ao3 😀 (we love kudos: it gives us queer superpowers <3)
(also, if you have trouble reading their stupid super soldier handwriting, drop me a line for the typed version)
This whole thing started because I was bitching about my roommates to notallbees over IM. Everyone who’s ever told me my negative attitude would get me nowhere in life must be feeling preeeettttty stupid right now, huh?
And yes we are the most badass grannies on Tumblr. Clear the road, everyone.
I have to say that a text version of this story hosted online in an easily accessible place rather than being something a reader has to request would be really useful. My partner, who is dyslexic and has visual sensitivity that leads to regular migraines tried to read this fanwork as-is and couldn’t. I haven’t read it, but I am autistic and have associated sensory sensitivity. Both of us use the Reversi theme on AO3 – light text on black background – to reduce the amount of light we have to expose our eyes to, and image files can’t be reversed. I understand the beauty of fanworks that theme themselves after ephemera – letters, notes – but when there is no text version or alt text, they’re also completely inaccessible to screen readers, which people with visual distortion or blindness need to translate text to an audible format. Having a text version is great, but having it be something that people have to petition to read is kind of awkward, and a bit of a barrier to those of us who have social phobias about initiating contact with strangers. It’s an accessibility issue, I guess is what I’m saying.
knitting in the dark 