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possibleplatypus · 2 years

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#20 if you haven't gotten asked it yet

What is the purest ship in the fandom?

Omg you come into my inbox and ask me this... 🤣🤣🤣 you already know what my answer is going to be, right?

I can't really think of any ship that comes close to what Steve and Bucky have in the MCU. Like I think about other ships, even canon ships, and they don't hold a candle to the unconditional love that these two men have for each other, whether you see it as romantic or platonic or whatever.

Like, I think Pepper is good for Tony-- too good, in my opinion-- but he nearly gets her killed several times (like giving her strawberries, which she's deathly allergic to, and challenging his enemies to attack the home she lives in. Come on). Thor and Jane broke up off screen. Bruce and Betty-- what happened to Betty?? Bruce and Natasha-- we're not gonna talk about that 🤢 Clint and Laura are barely developed, for all that Disney turned him into a mass murderer for kicks after she died. Stephen and Christine-- I never got the vibe that he would destroy the universe for her in his own movies, she was very much not important in the grand scheme of his story. Wanda and Vision-- okay this is a very sad ship and I haven't watched Wandavision but I understand she puts a spell over a whole town(?) while grieving for him, and in What If he fed a lot of people to her when she turned into a zombie, so that's not great. Etc etc.

The only ships I can think of that are as healthy as Steve and Bucky's relationship, with their mutual respect and love, are T'challa and Nakia, and Carol and Maria. Where they are friends as well as lovers.

And not to throw shade at those other ships, which I like, but none of them have the epic love story that Steve and Bucky have, that spans their entire lives, from childhood to world-weary adults (including their time spent in captivity/frozen under the sea), and have them losing, finding, and choosing each other, over and over again. A love story that spans three movies (even if one of them was Iron Man 4). That have them loving each other no matter what-- like, you know that Bucky would love Steve if he was a sickly 90 lb asthmatic or the superhuman masculine ideal, and Steve would love Bucky if he was a smiling, dapper gentleman soldier or an elite assassin with his mind ripped to shreds. They will, and they have, gone to the ends of the earth for each other.

I think it's the type of love story that could only be written unintentionally, because Marvel/Disney don't spend nearly as much time establishing this kind of intensity between their other pairings, even the canon ones. (Not to mention their hasty backtracking and no homoing of the two in Endgame *ugly laughter*)

salty asks

#mcu #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #marvel meta #asks answered

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endgaymme · 5 years

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steve’s ending

I love Steve and Peggy. I love Steve and Bucky. I love Steve and Tony. I love Steve Rogers and I have for six years. Not as long as some of you but i do and I have. I have thought about him and his character a LOT.

His ending is not one I would have written. It seemed like he was going backwards. In TWS he seemed to have come to grips with his current time and place and was looking forward to finding out more about his new environment, using the list he made up for himself of new things to experience, but there is still a longing for Peggy, because he knows where she is. She tells him to move on and he doesn’t see her for the rest of the movie. By the end, he and Sam, a friend he’s made along the way are looking for Bucky.

In CW, Peggy dies. While celebrating her life, the attack on the UN occurs. He immediately shifts from grieving into working, just like his behavior following Bucky’s supposed death in TFA. It’s how he processes but he is processing.

CW is a shift. CW is Steve Rogers taking himself back. He is not Captain America, he does not belong to us, to the Avengers, to Tony, to Fury. He is his own, he makes his own choices. He chooses Bucky. He drops the shield and carries Bucky, his first shield, from the site of the split. He takes Bucky somewhere he can get help.

In Infinity War, he’s still himself. When Thor introduces Groot and Rocket, Steve replies “I am Steve Rogers.” Not Captain America. Steve Rogers.

By Endgame, in the wake of the loss of half of humanity, his best friend, Steve retreats. Has Steve ever retreated? Ever? When he was a 90 lb asthmatic on Phillips’ base? Did he retreat when Phillips threw that dummy grenade? Did he retreat when Schmidt pulled his mask off, when Hydra sent Bucky to stop him? Did he retreat when Rhodes, formerly his colleague was sent to arrest him? Did he retreat when it was him and Thanos, one on one in Wakanda’s forest? Did he retreat when his shield shattered and broke, leaving him unprotected? No. Steve doesn’t retreat.

Him “choosing” Peggy doesn’t feel like a choice. It feels like a coping mechanism. The present is too scary, too uncertain, too unfamiliar. He doesn’t have the people he has built around him so he retreats to an imagined timeline with Peggy, where she is the love of his life. In staying with her in the past, he doesn’t have to face the consequences of Thanos. He doesn’t choose Peggy, he chooses his imagined comfort zone. She is an accessory- just like Wanda’s vision. A vision used to manipulate and control him. Steve abandons his new future with Sam and Bucky and everything he’s worked for for the last five years because he’s scared, because the imagined life with Peggy is comforting and the new life is uncertain.

Unfortunately, this ending just doesn’t fit with what I know and understand about Steve Rogers. It’s not Peggy versus Bucky. It’s Steve versus Steve.

#endgame #steve rogers #steggy #stucky #stevebucky #avengers endgame #endgame spoilers #bucky barnes #steve #peggy carter #with you to the end of the line #also all these people saying steggy is the right ending come off more than slightly homophobic just saying

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sundancefemme · 6 years

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I resent the implication that steve rogers was ever anything other than a salty winter adult

That boy was 90 lbs of asthmatic rage before the serum, and the Magic Abs Juice only made it worse.

#steve rogers #marvel #captain america #funny #humor #grace opens their goddamn mouth

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rootfauna · 6 years

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In Further “My life is a liminal space” News.....

After a long day at school I finally arrive home but only long enough to let Onon out. I had to right back out and go to the grocery store for pet food. The store where I can get all my stuff is pretty far away. It’s boiling hot outside. I hop on a bus and arrive at the station, then wait for the bus I need. I wait. And wait. Its 90 something degrees and the bus takes nearly an hour to arrive. Finally it does and I am whisked away to the store. I get there, walk into that sweet, sweet AC.....and promptly discover I’ve forgotten my wallet. Fuck. I walk back out to a different stop I know will have a bus arriving shortly and low, one is there. There is a man standing outside it very angry with the driver. I soon discover the reason for the man’s anger is that because it was 7:00 on the dot the buses were no longer running and the driver was refusing give him a courtesy ride back to the station. I am stranded.

I am stranded with angry dude. Let me tell you about angry dude. He’s a 6′3″ 350 lb Native American man - mountain. He’s served 4 prison sentences, is extremely violent, regularly has the cops called on him, slings drugs, has a fondness for weapons, and is a gang member. His name is tohmas (yes, spelled correctly, this is an ndn name).

I know all this because we chatted a bit on the bus on the way to the store and even more on our epic journey to go home. We decide to go back into the store and see if we can use a phone to call a ride. My phone is dead, his isn’t working. The store unfortunately has no curtesy phone.

Fortunately Tohmas’s father lives about half a mile away, but there’s a highway, corn field and railroad as obstacles. Tohmas suggest we go there and see if we can’t find rights. At this point I’m learning how to work with whatever weird sort of chaos my life operates on. I follow him. As we walk he chatters away. He’s an open book sort of dude. He tells me about the massive race riot in the prison in Oklahoma; it was natives vs Mexicans vs whites. Tohmas took the opportunity to no only beat the living shit out of Mexican people and white people, but he beat the shit out of natives, too. We are delighted to find out we’ve both lived in Colorado. He shows me he loves it so much he still keeps his expired Colorado drivers license in his wallet. I tell him about my dog training and handling days, which he thinks is awesome. We tackle the obstacles, with him voicing concern over the possibility of me getting hurt and arrive at his fathers place.

His father and mother are chilling on the porch. Unfortunately the car is broken down and may or may not even make it to the station. We’re still trying to get to the station bc we can both walk home from there. We decide to call around and as for a ride. They don’t have my kind of phone charger so my phone remains dead. Unfortunately no one can give us a lift. While we try to find a ride Tohmas chatters with his parents and they bring us both ice cold juice. I find out Tohmas has a knack for remembering faces and names, which he also uses for ass kicking and threatening purposes. He tells me the names of the nurses and doctors who treated his wife too roughly (to the point of malpractice) because she’s blind and also severely asthmatic and when she went to the ER while having an attack an orderly put her in a toe hold. He tells me the name of the asshole buss driver, who infuriates Tohmas not only for not giving HIM a ride, but even more so for not giving ME a ride, because it will soon be dark, I am a woman, and these are not safe streets. He says he knows I’m a badass but being a woman I’m more likely to be attacked in the first place. He says that if it weren’t for the fact that his wife didn’t know where he was and he should have been home hours ago, he would walk me home but she’s very worried and more prone to asthma attacks when stressed.

Finally the decision was made to try the car, which thankfully did not break down. By now it’s completely dark. As we walk together for a bit he tells me he’s still worried for me, so when we part ways he gave me his number, his pocket knife and a hug, and says I can always call if I need him, and told me I had a wonderful heart.

And that is how raging violent felon giant dude became my friend and protector for the evening.

(and if you’re wondering, no, it’s not because he had a crush on me, he’s the most chivalrous dude I’ve ever encountered and at one point mentioned I remind him of his younger sister)

#liminal space #I tell ya

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eddiejpoplar · 7 years

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The Last True Supercar: Lamborghini Huracán LP580-2 Spyder

A blip of the throttle unleashes a maelstrom from the V-10’s exhaust. The fury vibrates through my body and bounces off the concrete chasm that surrounds the Automobile office. Ever since I hung that orange Diablo poster on my bedroom wall as a child, I’ve been dreaming of this day. Hardly original of me, I know; if I were a few years older, the poster would have been of a Countach. And if my time in the 2017 Lamborghini Huracán LP580-2 Spyder stopped here, simply revving the engine in a parking lot, I’d probably die with a smile plastered on my face.

Not so long ago, Lamborghinis were wild, feral beasts prone to making grown men and women cry due to any number of maladies and axe-murderer tendencies—or die of heat exhaustion. Lamborghini’s HVAC output felt like the Italians had stuffed an asthmatic 90-year-old man blowing hot coughs through a sieve-like straw. Entry and exit were an absolute pain in the ass and had the habit of causing a great number of wardrobe malfunctions with the brand’s heiress clientele. Maintenance was even more loathsome and expensive, since depending on the part in need of service, it sometimes required removing the entire engine, transmission, and even the silly-but-awesome scissor doors. More rigorous maintenance necessitated the expertise of a time traveler from the year 2341, even though most of Lamborghini’s components were old enough to qualify for AARP.

Then along came the Volkswagen Group. The Germans poured heaping mounds of cash into the brand and brought Lamborghini into the 21st century. It transformed the company’s supercars from breathtaking works of art that only worked as two-dimensional bedroom posters to world-class supercars able to go head-to-head with Maranello and no longer needing a golf handicap or extra insurance for self-immolation.

Model after model, each new Lamborghini exiting the marque’s Sant’Agata factory became a more useable supercar. All-wheel drive tamed the cantankerous rear-wheel beasts of yesteryear. Their air-conditioning worked but still not as well as the average Volvo. And the styling evolved, drawing closer to that of corporate sister Audi, with softer curves and more livable doors. But the increased focus on livability made it seem like Lamborghini lost sight of its heritage and the wildness that attracted so many to it in the first place. And while the company has brought out some truly outrageous creations (i.e., Veneno, Centenario, Egoista), its main lineup consists of AWD supercars that can almost be daily drivers. Most wouldn’t call the Huracán and Aventador boring, but they also weren’t as farcically ludicrous as the Countach, Diablo, LM002, or Miura in terms of styling and that extrasensory feel of “specialness.”

This Huracán Spyder, however, is something else. It doesn’t feel like the “Volkswagen generation,” as it’s been described to me. It’s what I’d imagine from Lamborghinis of old. Cheese-grater surfaces cover most of the supercar’s exterior with air inlets and tunnels forcing air through the carbon-fiber bodywork. Its exhaust, unlike most modern turbocharged supercars, sounds like it has the ability to summon the darkest of hell’s demons. And that Kraken-like V-10 sends its 580 horsepower and 398 lb-ft of torque to the rear wheels alone, which is plenty to keep your hands and brain busy as the rear wheels struggle to maintain traction while launching from a set of traffic lights like the Roadrunner speeding away from Wile E. Coyote. Lamborghini brought its historical ethos back but left the fiery, unreliable qualities in the past.

Unfortunately, after pulling out of the office parking lot slowly, my first experience with the Huracán LP580-2 Spyder didn’t include raucously spinning the tires and bellows from the V-10. I was stuck in the hell of California’s Interstate 405 at rush hour. Fifteen miles took two and a half hours. This is not where the Lamborghini shines, which is good and bad. (The really good news is, this modern Huracán did not melt itself to the ground while idling in rush hour, something you might not have been able to count on once upon a time.)

While I never doubted the carbon bucket racing seats would keep both driver and passenger secure while whipping the Giallo Tenerife (yellow) Huracán through Nürburgring-like corners, they caused flareups of prior spinal issues. When I finally extricated myself from the cockpit, I felt like I had aged 40 years. The confining seats compressed my spine to the point it felt like two or three of my lumbar vertebrae had been surgically fused. I practically fell out of the car, now in a perpetual hunched position, moaning, and looking for Advil or a double pour of bourbon to ease my aching back. I dropped to the ground and stretched out to loosen my muscles and aching bones. With only T-shirt and jeans separating me from the sizzling tarmac, my back and butt sizzled. The warmth on my bruised and battered spine, however, felt blissful, and I could’ve stayed there for hours. Some things never change.

While staring up at the sapphire blue Californian sky, I considered the Lambo’s suspension. To its credit, the passive, old-school, non-magnetorheological suspension (MR is available as an option) soaked up almost every bit of the fragmented 405 tarmac and was far less harsh than Ford’s punitive Focus RS suspension, which in my opinion, should be reported to The Hague for crimes against humanity.

The Huracán’s standard suspension, however, is smooth enough for daily use, rolling over bumps and potholes, staying perfectly composed and never causing the car to sashay or pull the wheel out of your hands. And although it’s softly sprung, the Huracán is stable enough for when you get on the longer right pedal and the scenery goes plaid. To the outside observer, though, my supine appearance may have not conveyed that fact or made me look as if I was eager to return to the slightly agonizing buckets. However, ahead lay 11 miles of the most pristine, jagged, and desolate mountain roadways in California. With the spritely spirit of my inner 12 year old, the one with the Diablo on his wall, I hopped back into the Huracán and shed the aged feeling.

Nothing quite measures up to the percussive personality of the naturally aspirated V-10 reverberating off a canyon’s granite walls. The heavy metal band Megadeath would likely describe it as a symphony of destruction. And although superbly sonorous in the supercar’s standard mode, with the push of a button its howl magnifies. Shove the Huracán’s mode selector into Corsa, and the V-10’s yowl culminates with a staccato, .45-caliber overrun that’s sure to send a new barrage of shivers down your spine. Everything about this engine is meant to entertain, and does it ever.

Along the canyon’s tight blacktop, and Huracán’s fast approaching 8,000 rpm redline, first and second gear are the only gears necessary, and even then upshifting into second is rarely clicked for faster, straighter sections. When shifting is obligatory, the Audi-sourced dual-clutch transmission changes crisply and without violence. The shifts themselves are almost imperceptible, occurring in fractions of a second. Speed just continues to build, with the only distinguishable variance in gear selection being the exhaust’s tone. And as fast as the transmission upshifts, the downshifts are just as good, although slightly more fierce. Under hard braking, the supercar tends to twerk its hindquarters like Miley Cyrus, something that is likely reminiscent of Lamborghini’s previously untamable persona.

Keeping the car’s rear from spinning around and likely off the mountain’s side, however, were the company’s standard steel brakes and big six-piston calipers. Although many supercar owners would likely balk at selecting the less expensive steel rotors over carbon-ceramic brakes, the ones on the Huracán never once lost pressure, they cost infinitely less money, and they handled the abuse of a three-quarter speed, 11-mile run up one of the tightest and twistiest roads outside Germany’s 12.9-mile Nürburgring Nordschleife. Through the entire canyon flog, there was never a need for better braking or heat management. Maybe if I had gone to track the car for dozens of laps, the carbon ceramics would’ve been helpful. But for everyday use, which is exactly what this car will see, the standard rotors are wonderful pieces of equipment and enough to stop its 3,300-pound curb weight.

The same goes for the Huracán’s standard steering unit. For a few thousand more, Lamborghini will deliver a Huracán with variable geometry steering, which has the ability to change the steering rack’s resistance ratio from soft for around-town cruising to more forceful when the driver gets on the throttle and starts hucking the chassis into corners. After driving the standard unit, I’m not sure you need it. The standard steering provides an exactness that most modern supercars would kill for, adeptly communicating the road’s flaws to your fingertips. You’re never probing for where the front tires are, trying to discern the surface’s nuances. Just twist the wheel and lay into the throttle. The will understeer, or course, but you can counter it with a dash more throttle and opposite lock to kick into the car’s RWD oversteer abilities.

As the canyon’s tight walls continued, my mind tried to keep up with the manic, quick revving of the V-10 and lightning-fast shifts. This is very much a driver’s car. When you clip apexes and treat it with respect, it rewards you, but lose focus for more than a moment, and like supercars of old, it will bite you. Be prepared to pucker or need a new pair of underwear. And that’s what makes this Huracán so different from other modern Lamborghinis and other modern supercars. In an era when every supercar manufacturer has evolved its products into more civilized offerings, the frenzied, knife-wielding howler that is the Huracán LP580-2 Spyder has returned to the old ways. It’s a car you’re always smiling or laughing in, including those Kegel moments, which for some reason are ecstatically good fun too. It’s a loud, brash maniac, just like the Diablo that hung on my wall.

Yes, this Huracán is everything I could’ve asked for in a first experience. And it made me hope supercar manufacturers see the inherent fun of their wares being a little more untamed. Unfortunately, the Huracán LP580-2 Spyder is likely the last of its kind; supercar progress means smaller, turbocharged engines, more safety and autonomy, and better everyday usability. This sadly feels like one last hurrah as Lamborghini and the rest of the supercar industry take the next step into modernity. I feel like I just barely slid into the experience under the wire. I hope I’m wrong.

2017 Lamborghini Huracan LP 580-2

ON SALE Now PRICE $219,780/ $280,845 (base/as tested) ENGINE 5.2L DOHC 40-valve V-10/ 572 hp @ 8,000 rpm, 398 lb-ft @ 6,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 7-speed dual-clutch automatic LAYOUT 2-door, 2-passenger, mid-engine RWD coupe EPA MILEAGE 15/22 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 175.6 x 75.7 x 45.9 in WHEELBASE 103.1 in WEIGHT 3,326 lb 0-60 MPH 3.2 sec TOP SPEED 199 mph

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jesusvasser · 7 years

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The Last True Supercar: Lamborghini Huracán LP580-2 Spyder

2017 Lamborghini Huracan LP 580-2

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jonathanbelloblog · 7 years

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The Last True Supercar: Lamborghini Huracán LP580-2 Spyder

2017 Lamborghini Huracan LP 580-2

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