Who’s Pam? Doesn’t matter. Pam will make three billion dollars.
i would pay to see this
are you fucking kidding me I WANT this movie
I want to see this cheerful lady walking through fire and being badass and sweet
and most of all I want her to save the day with the normal shit she’s toting in that bag.
I NEED this.
‘Let me get this straight. You’re saying our Xanderian captor is in pain from a swollen… thing, and is going to eject us from the airlock? Well why didn’t you say so? Here, hun, I think I got some Aleve in here. You just take that.’
*Alien collapses frothing*
Everyone stares at her in awe. ‘How did you know that naproxen is fatal to Xanderians?’
‘Honestly, you people never have children? I hear EVERYTHING.’
or
‘Oh dear, you need something to bridge to gap between circuits and stop the shortage? I know I got a safety pin, just wait.’
*Ship jumps to warp ahead of pursuit*
Like, seriously, I want her to fucking MacGyver whatever is needed to resolve the plot issues, using Clorets gum, her Kindle, a Starbucks receipt (tall caramel macchiato) and a handful of change and lint.
Because we got so many ‘ordinary’ guy heroes that go on to be extraordinary, and let’s be real – in an actual Holllywood movie Pam would scarcely rate a speaking part. I want a female hero who is a hero without needing a goddamned makeover and just needed the right circumstances to shine. I am up to my goddamn neck with ordinary dude heroes. I’m sick of them. I know everything about them already.
upon learning Shuri is 16 in Black Panther, I quietly revise all my original shipping plans from “adults” to “Shuri is a hopeless baby lesbian with a crush on every single Dora Milaje and soon a big useless enormous crush on MJ, who is like a semi competent but mostly just grungy bisexual with a super popular twitter account that Shuri is obsessed with and MJ is s t o k e d about everything about Wakanda and tweets that she’s doing her senior research project on Wakandan tech and T’Challa, who follows his baby sister’s online crush’s twitter so he can forward Shuri the most embarrassing tweets that will make her furious (“YES BROTHER I DID SEE THAT SELFIE AND I DON’T NEED YOU TO REMIND ME OFF IT”), is like “this is the moment I was born for. This is why I became king” and tweets MJ like “we’re doing youth outreach, come to Wakanda, my very talented and smart and accomplished sister will give you a personal tour :)” and MJ and Shuri simultaneously die”
the Dora Milaje prepping for MJ’s visit by giving Shuri different and conflicting romantic advice until Okoye tells them it is against their sacred duty to torment the princess into a crush-induced panic attack because she cannot decide between her top twelve outfits and cool confident quips for making a good first impression
MJ meanwhile with Peter is repeatedly punching him in the arm because he just told her that he met T’Challa and she’s furious this hasn’t come up before, and also he’s Spider-man, but that’s not nearly as important as KING T’CHALLA WHAT, DID HE TALK ABOUT HIS SISTER AT ALL, MJ’S BEEN FOLLOWING ARTICLES ABOUT HER FOR YEARS AND SHE SEEMS DOPE AND CUTE AS HELL
Shuri, so excited and nervous that 10 percent of her attention is freaking out about how she can smell MJ oh no she smells so good, and 70 percent is on trying not to jitter so hard she thrums into a new plane of existence (and then the remaining 20 percent for figuring out cold fusion, nbd): HELOO M-UH-MMM- MICHELLE. DO YOU PREFER TO BE CALLED MICHELLE AND WELCOME TO MY BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY OF WAKANDA. WOULD YOU LIKE TO PHOTO WITH IT FOR YOUR INTERNET FRIENDS. I AM SHURI. YOU MUST KNOW THAT ALREADY. HAHA MY BROTHER TOLD YOU ABOUT ME. I WILL MURDER HIM.
MJ, who has spent the last ten minutes hiding in the bathroom applying deodorant to basically every non-face part of her body because she can’t stop sweating oh my god stop sweating you’re sweating on a three hundred year old chair in a sitting room in a palace in fuckin WAKANDA, and who is so stressed that she’s transcended the human for and is now astral projecting somewhere behind her own body, distantly pitying this new york punk gremlin who thought Formal Plaid was a good idea talk to a real ass honest to god genuine princess with a beautiful smile holding a small cat robot that she hand designed this afternoon on a whim: dope. I love murder. call me MJ
It’s 1952 in Oxford University, and Susan Pevensie is leaving the Lady Margaret Hall library for the last time.
Her classmates will be sorry to see her go – ask any of them “Who’s the young woman with dark hair and a blue coat?” and they’ll say “what, you don’t know Susan Pevensie? You must be new.”
But most of her friends don’t actually know that much about her. They’ll agree that she’s compassionate and charismatic, “and brighter than you’d think she’d have a right to be, with looks like hers – how come she gets beauty and brains?” but nobody knows anything about her childhood. Or her family.
“She’s lost someone,” says a first-year student with a permanent air of exam-induced panic, “she came here on an inheritance from somebody, and I’ll bet anything it’s her parents because she never talks about them, but we’ve all lost someone, you know? From the war or not, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s going to make her talk.”
She’s graduating head of her class with a degree in Politics, Philosophy, and Economics; she wants to change the world, but really who expects her to do that? There’s a Queen on the throne and a dozen-odd women in Parliament, and many think that’s enough. She’ll make the perfect wife for some politician or businessman, at least while she’s young and pretty enough to be seen and not heard.
The shadows are chilly and long this time of year, so she almost misses the older woman leaving the Principal’s office, but the other woman steps directly into her path.
“Hello, Miss Pevensie,” she says. “I’m Agent Peggy Carter. How would you feel about a job in America?”
Susan Pevensie, Clint Barton, Kate Bishop. All bore the name Hawkeye.
Coffee is sacrosanct. No matter who, or what, else gets dragged into the frequent breakout of prank wars, it is universally agreed that the coffee stays out of it.
Has been tortured, brainwashed, mutilated, cryogenically frozen a few dozen times and manipulated into being everything he sacrificed his life to fight. Doesn’t know who ‘Bucky’ is.
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