singelisilverslippers asked: Natasha and Sam take it upon themselves to help Bucky and Steve adjust to twenty-first century semi-civilian life.
Natasha walks into Steve’s kitchen—through the window of course—and hears the tail end of a conversation about KFC.
"—I don’t think it had much to do with Kentucky," Steve was saying. "Though maybe it does? Maybe Kentucky means something different in the future?"
Bucky grunted in agreement.
"Steve, Steve, Steve," Natasha said, shaking her head. "If you need a tour of modern cuisine, all you had to do was ask. I could take you out."
"I don’t—Bucky asked—” Steve said.
“Both of you,” she clarified. “Come on, let’s see how the fast food industry holds out against supersoldier stomachs.”
She was thrilled later when between them they finished that particular KFC’s daily supply of chicken.
"Natasha took you to a KFC?" Sam asked, appalled. "Man, you haven’t even tried sushi yet. Don’t go straight to the lowest common denominator, you hear what I’m saying?"
"Actually, I noticed that the prices at the KFC made a pretty large meal affordable even for—" said Steve.
"Yes, man, believe me, I know,” said Sam. “But this is your introduction to the future. We can do better than K fucking FC.”
"Yeah?" asked Bucky, leaning back in his chair, all challenge. "Can you do better?"
"Can I do better, he says," scoffed Sam. "Can I do—get your super asses up, we’re going for sushi."
Later, Bucky opened Steve’s fridge and there was still nothing.
"Where do you think we can convince them to take us next?" he called over his shoulder. "I’m hungry again."
"Let’s tell them we don’t know what a cheeseburger is," suggested Steve.
So I’m hosting a Chinese exchange student for the year, and she came in last night at midnight, so I was asleep (trying to get back on a regular sleep schedule, you know?), and this morning she gave me a gift.
- It’s a mug
- When you put hot liquid in it
- It changes from solid black
Okay, okay, I’m going to tell you what Hermione sees in Ron.
A trio is a balancing act, right? They’re equalizers of each other. Harry’s like the action, Hermione’s the brains, Ron’s the heart. Hermione has been assassinated in these movies, and I mean that genuinely—by giving her every single positive character trait that Ron has, they have assassinated her character in the movies. She’s been harmed by being made to be less human, because everything good Ron has, she’s been given.
So, for instance: “If you want to kill Harry, you’re going to have to kill me too”—RON, leg is broken, he’s in pain, gets up and stands in front of Harry and says this. Who gets that line in the movie? Hermione.
“Fear of a name increases the fear of the thing itself.” Hermione doesn’t say Voldemort’s name until well into the books—that’s Dumbledore’s line. When does Hermione say it in the movies? Beginning of Movie 2.
When the Devil’s Snare is curling itself around everybody, Hermione panics, and Ron is the one who keeps his head and says “Are you a witch or not?” In the movie, everybody else panics and Hermione keeps her head and does the biggest, brightest flare of sunlight spell there ever was.
So, Hermione—all her flaws were shaved away in the films. And that sounds like you’re making a kick-ass, amazing character, and what you’re doing is dehumanizing her. And it pisses me off. It really does.
In the books, they balance each other out, because where Hermione gets frazzled and maybe her rationality overtakes some of her instinct, Ron has that to back it up; Ron has a kind of emotional grounding that can keep Hermione’s hyper-rationalness in check. Sometimes Hermione’s super-logical nature grates Harry and bothers him, and isn’t the thing he needs even if it’s the right thing, like when she says “You have a saving people thing.” That is the thing that Harry needed to hear, she’s a hundred percent right, but the way she does it is wrong. That’s the classic “she’s super logical, she’s super brilliant, but she doesn’t know how to handle people emotionally,” at least Harry.
So in the books they are this balanced group, and in the movies, in the movies—hell, not even Harry is good enough for Hermione in the movies. No one’s good enough for Hermione in the movies—God isn’t good enough for Hermione in the movies! Hermione is everybody’s everything in the movies.
Harry’s idea to jump on the dragon in the books, who gets it in the movies? Hermione, who hates to fly. Hermione, who overcomes her withering fear of flying to take over Harry’s big idea to get out of the—like, why does Hermione get all these moments?
[John: Because we need to market the movie to girls.]
I think girls like the books, period. And like the Hermione in the books, and like the Hermione in the books just fine before Hollywood made her idealized and perfect. And if they would have trusted that, they would have been just fine.
Would the movies have been bad if she was as awesome as she was in the books, and as human as she was in the books? Would the movies get worse?
She IS a strong girl character. This is the thing that pisses me off. They are equating “strong” with superhuman. To me, the Hermione in the book is twelve times stronger than the completely unreachable ideal of Hermione in the movies. Give me the Hermione in the book who’s human and has flaws any single day of the week.
Here’s a classic example: When Snape in the first book yells at Hermione for being an insufferable know-it-all, do you want to know what Ron says in the book? “Well, you’re asking the questions, and she has to answer. Why ask if you don’t want to be told?” What does he say in the movie? “He’s got a point, you know.” Ron? Would never do that. Would NEVER do that, even before he liked Hermione. Ron would never do that.”