#*kicking my drafts for cassie under my bed*

[vigilantaes]

. . .     @urushiol​     🞂      [ unprompted ]       🞂          "Come on, don't be like that. You're hurt and this will make it better. If I wanted to kill you, don't you think I would have done that? Just let me help you.", her voice is quiet and gentle as she carefully brushes back some stray hairs from her face. Delicate hands move to lift batgirl's head up onto her lap so it's not on the hard ground, "I don't want to see you die Cass."

        cassandra was good at her job,  there was no debating that.  claims of her being the world's best fighter were not unfounded by any means with her ever growing list of wins   —    a modern day warrior,  she remembered diana saying once.  she had the pleasure of beating her own mother,  the unstoppable lady shiva,  twice in combat.  batman himself couldn't hold his own against her if she decided to put her all into it.  she had long surpassed her first mentor,  her birth father,  david cain,  before this point.  even hulking strong metas would end up beneath her boot so long as she didn't get too cocky.  the problem was that one needed more than physical prowess to be truly indomitable.

        the foes she had the most trouble against were not the roided brutes that terrorized the streets of gotham in their wolf packs,  but the manipulative,  intelligent lot that posed the biggest threat of all.  donned in reinforced armor,  black bat made the decision to take on scarecrow's upcoming project on her own.  it was one of those times where she felt she had something to prove.  cass couldn't remember what,  (  it was likely some off comment made by her father that rubbed her the wrong way,  )  and that made her feel all the more stupid.  her attempts at foiling the doctor's plans before they got too far ended up only aiding him further.  if she could recount the events,  she would,  but the gas in her system made everything a terrifying blur.  all she knew was that he definitely experimented on her,  judging by the throbbing pulse in her arm and neck.

        the next thing she remembered  was waking up to conflict.  she heard the straw on scarecrow's clothing rub together;  he was turning away from her.  he was in the same room as her.  his voice began to drone in a cocky monologue that she couldn't quite make out,  nor did she care to considering her drugged state and how boring he was to listen to in the first place.  focus,  cass.  that meant somebody was in there with her,  and likely somebody who was there to stop him.  stopping him meant helping her.  the next thing she sensed was the smell of earth.  thin stems silently coiled their way around her bound wrists.  a feminine voice joined the conversation.  it was familiar,  it was   — 

        pamela.  how long was she gone if it wasn't the bats who found her?  either not long at all or far too long for her liking.  cass tried to be hopeful for the former.  the restraints clicked open and released themselves from the indents of her skin,  sneaky handiwork that was clearly through the will of her savior.  savior or not,  cassandra was not thrilled with the revelation that she was the damsel in this situation.  especially after going out of her way to prove herself by doing this.  the slurry of emotions that overcame her,  anger and fear and guilt,  made her impulsive.  she took the fight between the two rebels as a means to escape before she could be judged for her incompetence.

        she didn't make it far.  no matter how much she willed her body to keep going further,  she eventually succumbed to the weakness within her and laid limp in the alleyway.  whatever self deprecating monologuing she would go through in her mind was cut short by pamela coming to aid her once again.  she fussed in a way that reminded her of how a mother might act,  not that she knew much of mothers at all,  and that bothered her more than anything.  it was only pushed further by her mask coming off.  this was not about batgirl,  it was about cassandra wayne.  she didn't know what to do about that.

        "  come on,  don't be like that.  you're hurt and this will make it better.  if i wanted to kill you,  don't you think i would have done that?  just let me help you.  "  pamela almost whispered,  soft fingertips brushing her hair away.  was she struggling?  probably.  cass didn't even notice until she mentioned it.  she didn't even notice being pulled into the nymph's lap until she spoke again,  her voice so much softer than it was back in the lab.   "  i don't want to see you die,  cass.  "

       it would've been better to let fate decide if she lived or died here.  her attempts to speak led to nothing but a gaping mouth,  opening and closing with no words behind it.  she gave up after a few tries.  her lips parted again,  this time not to speak or argue but to take whatever herbal medicine ivy decided to give her.  cass hoped she'd be left here after the fact,  allowed to recover on the hard ground away from anybody who could find her.  she knew that wouldn't be the case.

       she felt herself be lifted into dainty arms and leafy vines that must've supported the weight of her and her batsuit more than pamela herself.  cassandra hid into the crevice of her shoulder.  she pretended she wasn't being pathetically rescued,  but that she was hidden in the shadows and her plan went off without a hitch.  scarecrow was contained in the walls of arkham for the meantime,  maybe even blackgate if she did a good enough job.  she would show batman what a good job she did and he would be proud of her.  

       "  it's okay.  you're safe now.   i won't let them see you.  "  pamela said in her ear,  as quiet and soft as the hand that brushed through her tangled hair.  something within that little gesture set her off completely.  her eyes squeezed shut and she tried harder than before to hide into her,  sink into the camoflague of her plants and become one of the leaves instead of a person.  she could only sob and wait for what was to come.

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. II || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 2327

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: underage drinking

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: JJ helps you unpack, and the treasure hunt begins

A/N: I literally spent all day planning this series out, and I have a couple more parts drafted, so hopefully updates won’t be too slow! thanks for the love so far! anyone who wants to be tagged, let me know!

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

JJ turned up at your house at eleven on the next Monday. Thankfully, you were home alone, so you invited him in, explaining that you were unpacking the last of your stuff. He had happily helped, putting your things on higher shelves that you couldn’t reach or doing the heavier lifting. You saw how he inspected each polaroid, photo or ticket, looking for clues to who you were in LA. 

His favourite discovery was a polaroid of you with a girl he didn’t recognise, both taking disgustingly huge bites of cotton candy at a carnival, recognisable as the same place the picture of your mom was, in the shoebox. He had mocked you for it, and you had explained that it was an annual funfair every March, and you and the friend had been high as kites on MDMA in the picture. When you were getting to the bottom of the last box, he found an envelope, stamped as a file from the Los Angeles Police Department, and he flipped it over, the seal worn like it had been peeled open and pushed shut a hundred times. He saw how you hunched up when you saw it, snatching it from him and pushing it under the shoebox in the wardrobe, ignoring his attempts to ask about it. He found a homemade farewell card, and when he opened it, the card was full of little notes from at least fifteen people; ‘Jamie’, ‘Lily’, ‘Ella’, ‘Mia’ and a long note on the back from ‘Cassie’. He put it down on your desk, amongst the picture frames and polaroids. Some of the stuff, you were more open about. When he found a plastic lightsaber, you had enthusiastically explained to him how you and your brother used to pretend to be jedis fighting the evil empire (aka, your dad), or the tickets to museums or theme parks or theatres. Each had a story, a reason, a clue. Every memento was a drop in a vast ocean of whatever had pushed your family of two onto the Outer Banks. 

When everything was away, you flopped down on the bed, pulling him in a tow, so you were in a similar position to only two nights before. You turned to look at him.

“Why aren’t you at school, Jay?” you asked, and his heart fluttered at the shortening of his already-shortened name.

He shrugged, “I had better things to do.”

“Like me?” he shrugged again, but his face gave away that he had skipped for you. “You trying to say you wanna do me, Maybank?”

He looked you in the eye, “At some point, hopefully.”

At that, you both completely cracked up, cackling and doubling over, laughter hurting your ribs. “Smooth.” you rasped out, between your bouts of laughter.

“Why aren’t you at school?” JJ asked.

“There’s only two weeks left so the principal decided it would be best if I just started in September.” you explained, and he nodded. You turned onto your side so you could face him properly. “Jay?”

He hummed in acknowledgement, snuggling into you, ever so slightly.

“Promise me you’ll go to school as much as possible for the rest of the term?”

He looked up at you, “You serious?”

��Dead serious.”

“Y/N, there’s only a month left.” he reasoned, “And finals are over so there’s literally no point.”

“Jay, there’s only a month left.” you mocked, “So you’ll manage just fine.”

He groaned, “Damn Y/N, I’ve known you half a week and you’re already making me a better person.”

Couldn’t be further from the truth, you thought, Oh JJ, if only you’d known back in LA.

“What can I say,” you grinned, “I just have that effect on people.”

The storm kept you wide awake. 

You couldn’t sleep with the sound of the window panes rattling and wind whistling past the house, so after a few hours, you wrapped yourself in your fuzzy throw blanket and shuffled down the stairs. You crept into the living room, seeing your dad asleep on the sofa. You sat down on the seat away from him, curling your feet in and pulling the blanket up to your chin. You sat there, every time your eyes drooped, a crash or bang would snap them right back open, alert. At some point, your dad woke up.

“Hi, honey,” he groaned, sitting up. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” you explain, wiggling your toes around a bit. “Storm’s too loud.”

He nodded, “How are your new friends?”

“They’re good.” you smiled, “Everyone here’s so different.”

“In a good way?”

“Yeah. they’re nicer, less judgy, less… I don’t know.” you trailed off. “JJ said he’d teach me how to surf.”

“Who’s JJ?” your dad frowned, “Sounds like a boys’ name.”

“Oh my God, Dad, chill.” you groaned, “We’re just friends.”

“Just friends?” he smirked, “Or just friends?”

“Dad, you’re literally the most infuriating person I know.” you threw your head back on the back of the armchair, too unsure of what you and JJ were to even want to describe it to him.

“Honey, just be careful, hm?” he softened, that smile on his face fading away, “You’ve been through so much lately, and I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re delicate.”

“I’m not delicate.” 

“Yeah, you are.” he looked at the floor, “and you don’t deserve anything this family has put you through, much less anything that boy did to you.”

That boy. God, comparing JJ to him was like comparing a puppy to Hannibal Lector.

“Well he’s almost three thousand miles away, so let’s just forget about him, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course, sweetheart.”

JJ appeared at the ass-crack of dawn, saying him and John B wanted a day out with the Pogues. He hadn’t relented when you said you wanted to sleep, and you found yourself giving in quicker than you would like to admit.

He waited for you to get dressed (bikini, shorts and crop tops seemed to be what you lived in, currently) and then dragged you to John B’s to get the HMS Pogue and go out to the marsh. JJ and John B had attempted to sweet-talk Heyward, and Pope ended up being (willingly) kidnapped. Next, you picked up Kiara, and her cooler full of beer, before heading to the marsh.

JJ, much to Kiara’s frustration, had decided it would be a great idea to try and teach you how to air the beer, using the speed of the boat. It was ridiculous, because you were somehow doing it better than him, even if you had beer all in your hair and bikini top. 

You were just getting the hang of it when the boat jolted to a stop, sending you and JJ flying fifteen feet forwards and crashing down into the waters.

You found yourself sinking, a frenzy of bubbles rising around you, the shape of JJ falling visible somewhere next to you. You kicked towards the surface, gasping as you broke the surface, pushing your hair out of your face as JJ appeared to your side, flicking his long hair out of his face.

“I think my heels touched the back of my head.” JJ complained, and you laughed, treading water next to him.

“At least I don’t have beer in my hair anymore.” You reasoned, clinging to JJ’s shoulder as you maneuvered out of your soaked shorts and threw them onto the boat.

“Pope,” you groaned, “What did you do?”

“Sandbar. The channel changed.”

“No shit.” JJ moaned. “Hey, I saved the beer though!”

“Congrats, JJ.” John B said.

“Guys,” Pope said, “I think there’s a boat down there.” 

“Right,” you laughed, “Sure.”

“No, no, guys, I’m serious. There’s a boat down there.” he insisted.

“Oh shit.”

You peered down at the shapes beneath you, recognising the shapes of a boat.

“You think there’s  a dead body down there?” Pope asked.

You inhaled, and then kicked downwards, the others following suit, as you all peered inside, trying to see anything of note, and then pushed back up, resurfacing.

“That’s a Grady-White!” JJ laughed, “A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy.”

You hauled back onto the boat, gushing about the wreck.

“That’s the boat I saw when I surfed the surge.” John B pointed out, making Kiara turn around to glare at him. “Maybe it hit the Jetty or something?”

“You surfed the surge?” Kie asked, frustrated that they could be so reckless. 

“That’s my boy, Pogue style.” JJ grinned, and you shook your head at him, rolling your eyes.

“Wait,” You paused, “Do we know who’s boat that is?”

“No,” John B shrugged, “But we’re about to find out.”

“Dude, it’s too deep.” JJ scorned.

“Only for the weak and feeble, JJ.” John B responded.

“Well I’m not resuscitating you. I’m making that clear upfront.”

You took the anchor. “Resuscitate me then.”

“Diver down, fool.” Pope shrugged.

“Y/N-” JJ started.

“Diver down.” you jumped, letting the anchor pull you to the bottom.

Everything was blue and hazy, your eyes stinging in the salty water, but you adjusted, knowing you didn’t have long. In your short amount of time before your lungs would collapse, you scanned over the controls, finding a set of keys. You pushed back, out of the boat, and let the air in your lungs pull you to the surface.

“Oh my God that took forever!” Kie sighed, JJ finding your eyes with panic set in his features.

“Any dead bodies?” Pope asked.

“Looting potential?” JJ asked.

You shook your head. “All I found was some motel keys.” You held them up, squinting in the sun but still treading water.

“Great, we salvaged a motel key!” JJ said, sarcastically.

“Guys we should report the wreck to the Coast Guard, maybe we’ll get a finder’s fee.” Kiara reasoned.

“And not work all summer!” JJ grinned, “Thanks Agatha, ya biatch!”

Following JJ out of the boat, something about the motel was setting you on edge, making your stomach churn uncomfortably.

You began to walk with JJ, when Pope called out to you, “Y/N, Don’t let him do anything stupid, he doesn’t listen to the rest of us.”

“I’m not making promises.” You shrugged.

You looked back at John B and Kiara as she told him to “be careful”. You shot her a questioning look, and she simply shook her head. You took the keys from John B, walking a couple of feet ahead of the two boys. You scanned the room numbers, pretending not to listen to them talk about Kie. If you didn’t feel bad about the place already, hearing the way JJ talked about Kie seemed to be adding to the feeling.

“Twenty nine.” you cut them off, taking the keys off John B, “This is us,”

“Housekeeping!” JJ mocked, and you shoved his shoulder playfully, gaining access to the door, which you unlocked.

JJ and John B took a beeline to the map, while you went through the bathroom, finding nothing but unused shampoos and body washes.

“Find anything?” John B asked as you came through.

“Just a Dopp Kit,” you shrugged, sitting down on the bed.

You left JJ to his rambling as you handed a John B a code to unlock the safe with.

Stacks of cash, a gun, an envelope. Your eyes widened, and you let out a whistle. You called JJ over, and he immediately grabbed the gun, both you and John B yelling for him to put it back as he asked for a picture.

Hearing a crack on the window, you saw Pope and Kiara signalling that there was someone at the door. JJ confirmed this, peaking through the blinds. 

You forced the window, allowing John B out, before following. JJ followed you, shutting the window after himself. You shuffled along so he could stand, only giving you space for one foot, right on the edge of the roof. You grabbed the post in front of JJ and he wrapped an arm around you to keep you from falling.

You could see John B and JJ mouthing to each other, but you couldn’t see, what with JJ being in the way and being preoccupied with trying not to fall. JJ turned slightly, to look back at Pope and Kiara. His grip loosened, and you almost lost your footing. 

JJ, pulled you back in, allowing you to regain balance, but the combination of your small scream and the clatter of the goddamned gun falling, one of the cops looked out the window. 

In JJ’s attempt to stop the two of you from being seen, The two of you ended up face to face, barely an inch apart, with his grip holding you tight as fuck. You could smell weed and mint on his breath. 

“Your eyes are really blue.” you murmured, watching how they lit up as he stifled a laugh.

You were sitting on JJ’s lap with an arm thrown casually around his neck, ever conscious of his fingers tracing patterns on your side, as the group were talking about what your next moves were.

“So we need to lay low right?” you began, the group nodding, and an idea popped into your head. “Okay, so if you're laying low, everyone would expect you to stop doing shit right? Be super discreet about everything?” the group nodded, unsure of your path, “well, in that case, do what they least expect.”

“Hand ourselves in?” JJ joked, and you sighed, exasperated.

“This place is the polar opposite of LA, but it has one thing in common - with my area at least. It’s fucking full of broke teenagers, and if broke teenagers are good at anything, it’s getting a hold of vast amounts of alcohol, right?”

“Fuckin’ amen.” JJ muttered, and the others all looked at you in confusion.

“So, gather your resources, and throw whatever the Outer Banks version of a beach party is!”

“Let’s throw a kegger.” Kie grinned.

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @lolitstiana @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch

[pass-the-bechdel]

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Ant-Man (2015)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, once.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Four (22.22% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Fourteen.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Film Quality:

It’s delightful. 

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Maggie passes with Cassie as she puts her to bed.

Female characters:

Peggy Carter.

Hope Van Dyne.

Cassie.

Maggie.

Male characters:

Howard Stark.

Hank Pym.

Scott Lang.

Peachy.

Luis.

Dale.

Kurt.

Dave.

Darren Cross.

Frank.

Paxton.

Gale.

Mitchell Carson.

Sam Wilson.

OTHER NOTES:

Dave calls Scott a pussy, and Scott is not fussed at all about accepting the attempted insult.

Ah, the old ‘wish you’d call me dad’ cliche, the most worn-out lazy way to establish an antagonistic parent/child relationship. 

“a sustainable environment of well-being”, what an excellent fascist euphemism.

Maggie is very reasonable with Scott about the conditions for seeing Cassie; it’s refreshing to not have this played as ‘harpy ex-wife refuses to let man see his child because she’s just the worst!’ Maggie has a child to look after - and has been doing so for years now while Scott was in jail - and she has every right to impose rules on how things proceed, Scott doesn’t get to just march in and have things his way ‘because she’s my daughter!’ Children are not possessions or status symbols, and this movie does a nice job of recognising that and having the adult characters recognise that and behave in reasonable and understanding ways for Cassie’s benefit rather than their own egos. Other films should take note. Also, real people.

“Yeah man, it killed DiCaprio.”

Turning lambs into goo is worse than kicking puppies. What a monster.

They do a pretty solid job with the reason for Hope not being allowed to don the suit instead. It has strong potential for seeming like flat-out sexism, the idea that a woman can’t get the job done (in universe) and that a female hero won’t sell (out universe), and while that may indeed still be the core reason, they still pull off the reasoning as if it’s genuine.

Pym’s excuse for why he never told Hope the truth about her mother’s death, on the other hand, is pretty fuckin’ weak. Tell people to stop pretending ‘I was trying to protect you’ is a reasonable explanation for lies. It’s super-high - easily Top 5 - on my list of Worst and Most Tedious Cliche Lines.

Kurt suggests that the suit is the work of gypsies and it’s...not the best line they could have picked. Something less racist instead, maybe? No?

Cross is really fixated on Pym as a father figure. It’s different. I like different.

“That’s a messed-up looking dog.”

Scott and Paxton making peace is so great. Paxton peeing in all the corners and Scott being all jealous and threatened by Paxton ‘usurping his place in the family’ would have been such a predictable cliche for them to use, and this very palatable mature adult behaviour is sooo much better. This is how you stop normalising petty possessive rivalries. 

Luis is magical, and also, mad cultured. I love it, but I love even more that they don’t hang a lantern on it, they just let it be part of his character.

Ok, I confess, this is probably gonna be a weird sort of meandering review, because I’ve had this post sitting in my drafts for two months gathering dust while I deal with the mental and physical fatigue of the first trimester of a pregnancy (it’s FUN), and now the due date for this post (pun definitely intended) is right on the horizon, so...I’m just gonna get it done, and it’ll be whatever the heck it is in the end. This is not a complex film filled with deep nuance, it’s basically just an action-y heist movie with some hand-waved scifi on top. And there’s ants. It’s not a hard film to talk about, so you’ll excuse me if it doesn’t get my very best effort. I’m kinda busy growing a human over here.

I remember a lot of grumbling and even some outrage in fandom, back when this film was announced; a lot of people upset that the MCU was bringing in a comparatively little-known and perhaps little-loved superhero like Ant-Man when they still hadn’t bothered with a single female-led film yet, and various complaints about the problematic nature of the Ant-Man character from the comics (referring, I believe, to the Hank Pym version). And then, of course, there was the doubt about whether or not an Ant-Man story was just a fucking idiotic idea in the first place, what with the questionable application of science and the even more questionable appeal of a tiny little man running around playing with ants. Expectations were not high. And yet, Ant-Man pulls through, not just with a great fun romp, but with what I consider one of the more entertaining films the MCU has churned out to date.

I have made my fair share of sour comments about previous films in the MCU and their unimaginative paint-by-numbers plots, and so what I’d like to talk about with Ant-Man is how it manages to be such a success to me despite an essentially uncomplicated story that follows a predictable narrative arc the likes of which we’ve all seen a hundred times before. The basic tenets of a heist movie are all there; the basic tenets of a good vs evil story play straight, alongside a low-key but typical redemption plot, and some plight-of-the-regular-guy vs corporate greed and warmongering, and the leading man hooks up with the leading lady in the end and proves himself as a hero to his family and all that jazz. We know every one of these story and character beats. So. Why do they work?

Let me back this up a second to talk about a couple of major-league pet peeves of mine, the one a microcosmic version of the other: firstly, when people say ‘all Marvel films are basically the same’, and secondly, the Advanced Level Faux-Intellectual Douche version of that sentiment, when people declare that ‘there’s no such thing as originality anymore! There are only seven types of story in the world anyway! Everything is derivative!’ It’s an obnoxious absence of a viewpoint that betrays a lack of imagination and a use of such broad-strokes surface-level comprehension as to be essentially meaningless. Sure, if you break down story concepts to their most fundamental core drives, you can summarise their arcs in a relatively small number of ways, and familiarity with these core concepts can provide a degree of predictability in the way things play out. But that doesn’t mean that every single version of, say, the classic Hero’s Journey is the same damn story, and therefore a useless derivation from which no entertainment or message can be gleaned. If someone asks you to tell them the plot of a movie and you just go ‘oh, it’s a Hero’s Journey’ and leave it at that, you’ve told them almost nothing about what to actually expect. The Matrix is a very, very different Hero’s Journey to The Lord of the Rings, which is a very different Hero’s Journey to Finding Nemo, which is not at all the same as Iron Man. And which of them is closest to The Odyssey, anyway? One of the most obvious differences with all of those examples is genre, and the traditional trappings which often (but not always) follow from them. Sure, the MCU films tend to all fit superhero-comic genre conventions, and some of them (particularly origin stories, as with Iron Man and Thor) may employ a lot of the same tropes while they’re at it. But does anyone really, genuinely think that Ant-Man is ‘basically the same’ as Captain America: The First Avenger? Is Guardians of the Galaxy almost indistinguishable from Black Panther? Does anyone who says ‘Marvel movies are all basically the same’ actually believe the words out of their own mouth, or do they just hope it makes them sound smart if they imply that they’re ‘above’ enjoying mainstream popcorn action?

All of this is to say, what makes Ant-Man work where other trope-heavy films fall apart? The same thing that makes literally any story ever work, and be worthwhile, whether it ‘breaks barriers’ or ‘teaches something’ or is considered ‘high art’ or not: details. Some films are too light on details, which makes them boring because they never really bother to build anything on top of those core foundations we know so well. Sometimes, the details - numerous as they might be - are too generic to have an impact, and the dull result is the same. Sometimes the details are too absurd to land, or there are too many to keep track of, or they require too much extraneous qualification to fit into the flow of the rest of the story, or they’re irrelevant to the rest of the story anyway. The thing about details? There are countless options. People come up with new ideas all the time, through the exercise of imagination or through developments and innovations in the real world. Basic, core plot arcs may be distilled to a handful of options, but story details are limitless, and the possibility of fun new combinations is always there, whether you’re inventing something entirely never-before-seen or not. The idea that you have to be shocking and unexpected to be worthwhile is ridiculous, and shepherds illogical contrivances and gimmicks without narrative cohesion or purpose much more often than it achieves something genuinely surprising with merit (and storytelling that prioritises ‘shocking twists’ is usually so busy trying to look clever it forgets to actually be clever, but, that’s another conversation). The point is, Ant-Man being a delightful film isn’t rocket science. It’s as simple as just a little forethought in the construction of its details.

As noted back near the top, the whole Ant-Man concept and its wobbly science was something that drew some doubt regarding whether or not it could be pulled off in a convincing manner; the solution to achieving that is to do more than just lean in to the idea. The film throws itself whole-heartedly into its core conceit and its tropes, and it drags us along with it to gleefully delight in the act. The story is not embarrassed by itself, it doesn’t try to keep its distance; instead, it gives us a flying ant named Antony, and a dramatic death scene for that ant. What is the point of the Pym particle science conceit if we don’t enjoy the comedic potential of an epic battle inside a briefcase, or on a child’s train set? Relevant to this also is the subject of casting choices (as much a detail-of-interest as anything; a single casting choice can legitimately make or break a film). Paul Rudd has a perfect blend of leading-man charisma and affable comedic chops; he plays Scott as a beta-personality, which is always a refreshing change-up for a lead, and one which invites other refreshing changes around him. It avoids tedious masculine antics in his interactions with other men, while encouraging balanced and respectful interactions with women; Scott never asserts himself as the boss or leader in his relationship with Luis and the rest of his crew, allowing for a smoothly-cooperative dynamic; no time or plot is wasted on pointless jostling for control of the operation with Pym; the idea that Scott needs to prove himself to the three female characters in his life - Hope, Maggie, and Cassie, each for similar but different reasons - is given legitimate weight, instead of implying that Scott and his perspective is inherently superior and correct and the onus is on the other characters to realise that, rather than being on him to live up to other people’s reasonable expectations. It should come as no surprise that the latter element is especially interesting and heartening in the context of this blog.

This is particularly good news when it comes to the kinds of relatively minor details which can make a huge difference in whether or not one reflects on a film in a positive or negative manner; the fact that the narrative supports and validates Hope’s anger, her frustration and resentment and her all-business-no-fun attitude, is vital to keeping a viewer like myself on-side with the film. Hope is never presented as someone who should ‘just loosen up’, or ‘have faith in her father’s plan’, the fact that she is denied the Ant-Man technology because Pym ‘can’t bare to risk losing her’ is offered as a reason but not as an excuse for something deeply patronising, and Scott proving that he can get the job done despite Hope’s misgivings about him is not framed as her being ‘wrong’ - her concerns were legitimate, as all her emotions across the film are, and the story never compromises on that in order to bolster another character. Whether or not Hope is well-handled is not important to the operation of the central narrative plot in a technical sense, but it means a lot in terms of delivering strong characters with satisfying arcs, and a central plot can easily fall flat if the characters participating in it don’t work well, individually or together.

I’m trying to wrap this up coherently, but it’s just as well that I disclaimered myself in the beginning because all I’ve got are frayed pieces of, probably, five other paragraphs I could waffle about. It’s not a complex film, no, but it has a surprising amount of quality details, the more I think about it, even regarding aspects of the movie that I liked less than others (Pym, for example, I did not love, but I like that the movie never tried to pass off his ‘genius’ as an excuse for him being a significantly flawed figure in the lives of most people who encountered him, often with bitter consequences. I’m also a big fan of the fact that both he and Scott have complicated but loving relationships with their daughters, considering that Hollywood has a hyper-obsession with the idea of ‘A Man And His Son’ as the beating heart of family narratives). I’m going to close this out with what may be my personal favourite refreshing detail of this movie, and that’s the mature adult relationship between Scott, Maggie, and Paxton. I mentioned it already in the notes, but honestly, how many times have we seen that toxic cliche, with the shrewish ex-wife and the terrible new man in her life, where the main character (who is Doing His Best!) has to prove through [insert plot heroics] that ex-wife is WRONG and should have stayed with him, the father of her child(ren), because did we mention, her new man is terrible and the main character is always right and good and better! In the end, ex-wife almost certainly leaves her terrible new man to get back together with the main character, because he is Doing His Best and that’s more important than actually being a stable/responsible person! The American nuclear family is the ideal! Divorce is for heathens! Y’all know that toxic plot. I can think of three different examples of it in action right off the top of my head, with no effort required. Point is, the degree to which I was utterly thrilled by this movie subverting cliche at every turn of its family saga really cannot be overstated. Maggie is a reasonable person! Scott respects that Cassie’s needs are more important than his wants! Paxton cares about his family and genuinely wants Scott to land on his feet, for the benefit of everyone! There’s no jealous posturing and Scott acting all hurt about being ‘replaced’! HE LITERALLY THANKS PAXTON FOR EVERYTHING HE DOES, WHEN HAVE I EVER SEEN THAT BEFORE?! Honestly, you don’t have to tell the most original story in the world to tell a story that resonates. You don’t even have to avoid common tropes, you just have to think about what you want to do with them. It’s not rocket science. It’s just good honest storytelling.

With ants.

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Misunderstandings ~ A Bucky x Reader Oneshot

A/N: Hi Hi Hi! Happy Saturday, lovelies! Okay, first of all, thank you all so so much for all of the love you guys have given On Your Right since I finished it! I”m honestly speechless. You’re all so lovely and amazing. 

So, on to the story. This one’s been kicking around in my drafts for a while and I finally edited it and I’m happy with it! I hope you enjoy it! 

Summary: Bucky’s been away for an extended mission. He overhears a conversation between you and Scott and he makes the wrong assumption. 

Rating: T for language 

Warnings: Some angst, discussions of pregnancy 

Pairings/Characters: Bucky x Reader, Scott Lang 

Word Count: 1474 

“Cassie made a paper chain to count down until the big day.”

“I know,” you chuckled. “She showed me yesterday. I can’t believe it’s only a month away.”

“She is so excited to have a playmate. You know she absolutely adores you. You’re going to be such a great mom, y/n.”

Scott pulled you into a quick hug and kissed the top of your head. Before you could respond, you heard glass smash in the kitchen and rushed to see what had happened.

You found the Winter Soldier frantically trying to sweep up the remnants from his glass.

“Bucky! You’re home!” you squealed excitedly and then noticed the trail of red he was leaving. “And you’re bleeding. Stop touching the glass and come here,” you demanded tugging him up by his metal arm. “Scott, do you mind cleaning this up?”

“Not at all,” he assured you, tossing you a clean dish towel before grabbing a broom from beside the fridge.

Bucky couldn’t stop his eyes from darting up and down your body while you wrapped the terry cloth around his hand.

“Come on. I’ve got sutures in my room.”

When he didn’t move, you put your hands on your shoulders and steered him down the hall to your room. Pushing him straight into the bathroom, you pulled his hand under the cold water to wash out any glass.

“So when did you get home?”

“This morning,” he mumbled, still watching you like he expected something to be out of place and it wasn’t.

“What happened with the glass?” you asked as you dried the cut and started placing butterfly stitches across his palm.

“Wasn’t paying attention. Squeezed too hard.”

When you had placed the last of the stitches you held his hand in both of yours and gently kissed his palm.

“All set.”

“Thanks, I should… um go.”  

He nearly made it to the door before you grabbed his metal hand. He could have easily pulled away but instead he let you pull him back towards you. You placed yourself between him and the door.

“I don’t even get a hug hello, Sarge? It’s been ten months of radio silence,” you remarked, sadly. You had missed him terribly. You two hadn’t officially gotten together before he left on his latest assignment, but you had shared several dates. Maybe they hadn’t gone as well as you thought they had.

He was still just staring at you. “Okay, why are you looking at me like I grew an extra set of arms since you’ve been gone?”

“Well didn’t you?” he demanded, suddenly irritated.

“Did you get hit in the head during your mission?”

He started to push past you but you shoved him with both hands as hard as you could so he fell back onto the bed. You pressed your advantage and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and pinning his hands down.

“Get off of me,” he warned in a low growl.

“No, not until you tell me what the hell is wrong. You come home after almost a year, don’t say hello, and just keep staring at me like I’m an alien.”

“I don’t think the father of your child would be too happy if he saw us like this.”

He tried to carefully shove you off, but you locked your legs around his torso and gripped his wrists even tighter.

“The who of my what?” You sputtered.

“Scott. The guy you’re having children with. I heard you two. You’re having a kid in a month. Cassie’s gonna get a playmate,” he mocked.

As you processed what he said, you realized what your conversation with Scott had sounded like to an outsider. You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity.

“You think this is funny, y/n? How the hell are you not showing that you’re eight months pregnant?” he growled, frustrated.

You leaned forward so you were hovering over him.

“James Buchanan Barnes, you are an idiot.”

“I’m a what?”

“I’m not pregnant, Buck. Scott’s buying Cassie a puppy.”

His brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to make sense of your words.

“But he said you’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Yeah, someday. But not to his kid. He said that because I had the same kind of dog when I was her age so I’ve been teaching her how to take care of one. We really hit it off and he seems to think that means I’ll be a good mom.”

“Oh.”

“That’s all you’ve got?” You huffed, sitting up but remaining in his lap.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I guess I just went a little crazy at the thought of you being with someone else.”

He sat up abruptly and you nearly toppled off of him, but his arms closed around you keeping you in place. He carefully repositioned you so you were straddling his legs instead of his waist so you were more stable.

“Thanks. Bucky, I thought I made it pretty clear that I wanted to be with you when we went out.”

“And then I left for ten months. I thought things had changed.”

You sighed, wanting to be mad at him but you couldn’t be when you saw the insecurity written all over his face.

“Buck, did you really think I would get together with Scott two months after I had been dating you?”

He shrugged refusing to look you in the eye. “We had gone out a few times but that didn’t mean we were… going steady.”

You smiled at the term.

“Bucky, look at me.”

When he refused you tilted his head back with a rough tug at his hair.

“Bucky, listen to me very carefully. My one and only virtue is patience. I waited three years for you to be ready to date – gladly, don’t get me wrong. And I would gladly wait another three years for our next date if that’s what you need. But I don’t know if we’ll work out if you think I’m gonna fuck the next guy I meet when you’re on an extended assignment.”

“That’s not what I thought,” he mumbled defensively.

“So what did you think?” You sighed.

He finally looked at you for the first time.

“I didn’t. That’s the problem. The thought of you as a mom kind of sent my brain into panic mode.”

Your stomach dropped a little at the admission and you scrambled off his lap.  

“Why? It’s not like there was any chance you could be the father,” you pointed out in a harsh tone.

He looked up at you in confusion, trying to piece together your sudden change in mood.

“I didn’t know you felt so strongly,” he said sadly. “But it makes sense. Why would you want to have kids with someone like me? I should go.”

You grabbed his arm as he moved to stand tugging him back yet again.

“Okay. Stop. I’m pretty sure we’ve started having two different conversations. Why wouldn’t I want to have kids with ‘someone like you’?”

“Because I’m a monster. Why would you want to?” He asked as if the answer were obvious.

Your heart broke for Bucky. He still hadn’t forgiven himself.

“Bucky, you aren’t a monster. You were forced to do those things. It wasn’t your fault. It was Hydra’s. You are an amazing, kind, wonderful man. That’s not what I meant when I said that.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant that we hadn’t had sex yet so there was no way you could be the father. Not that I didn’t want you to be.”

He opened and closed his mouth several times before he just sighed.

“Why did the thought of me being pregnant make you panic?” You blurted out.

“Panic isn’t the right word… exactly.”

“So what is the right word? Exactly?”

“Heartbroken. I thought I had lost you because I had been too slow. I’ve seen you with Cassie and Clint’s kids and you glow when you’re with kids. Scott’s right, you’re going to be an amazing mother. And I was terrified of having to watch you have a happy family with some other guy when I want to give you those things. Even if I don’t deserve them. I didn’t know if I could stay and not be with you. Because I love you.”

You gasped at his admission and suddenly he found the floor to be profoundly interesting.

“Bucky,” you placed your hand on his cheek. “I love you too.”

“You do?” His eyes flew to yours.

“I do. I have for a long time.”

His smile lit up his whole face.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I don’t know. But now that we’ve cleared up all of our misunderstandings, do I get a proper hello?”

He grinned and leaned down to kiss you.

“Hello, doll.”

“Welcome home, Bucky.”

A/N: Some fluffy Bucky who really just wants a family. Thanks again for all the love! Enjoy the weekend! 

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