And a thing I actually wrote today *gasp*
When Marc unkeyed the last ward and let himself into Liz’s apartment, he found her cooking pancakes.
“She’s still in the ICU,” he said after a beat, shutting the door behind him, carefully not looking as he went through the soothing motions to make everything safe. “So either you’re playing a very cruel joke, or a very stupid one.”
“Keep it down, would’ja?” she asked, adding pancakes to the old griddle in steady ploops. “I don’t want Alec to come in and see me like this; it’ll fuck him up.”
Marc paused. “Liz?”
Finally, she looked at him, peering over one leather-clad shoulder, her eyes a blue so dark it only didn’t look black in comparison with the arch of purple-black bruising marking the socket: a crow to match the wolf he was sure’d bloomed, snarling, around her neck. Her lips twisted into something that looked more like a snarl than a smile, the teeth that peaked out sharp and inhuman. “Hey.”
He was across the kitchen before he even realised it, arms slipping under that jacket that still smelled like Lyle’s burnt flesh to cling to her so tight he knew that if she’d really been here he’d’ve shattered the ribs held together with a wish and a prayer. She clung back, arms like steel bands around his shoulders, holding him impossibly close. “So,” he breathed, no intention of stepping back, pushing every bit of blood he’d shed in the last thirty hours into her, both his and his kills, feeling it as she shuddered and almost destabilised around him, and, viciously, he wished he could rip that drake apart all over again. With his bare hands this time; personal kills always translated better in the getting-her-back-on-her-feet pool. “Pancakes?”
She nodded, caked blood from when those bastards had ripped out her braids scraping along his temple so real he could almost smell it, copper and ozone. “Being in the hospital ain’t gonna stop me from cooking my boy some pancakes on his birthday.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding, grinding his face into her shoulder like he couldn’t leave a mark. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”
She said, “Just stay here,” and he closed his eyes and just breathed.
I used to hate Jane Foster
I did. When I first saw Thor, I loved the movie. It was great. Except Jane. I couldn’t stand Jane. She was too much of what I thought of as a ‘damsel in distress’, even though, thinking back on it now, I don’t think she was ever actually in distress in the first movie (at least, no more than any other mere mortal in that little New Mexico town was).
Jane just wasn’t what I thought of as a ‘strong’ female character. She was no Peggy or Sharon Carter or Maria Hill. She didn’t defeat the villain like Pepper Potts did in IM3. And she certainly wasn’t Natasha Romanov (no one is like Natasha Romanov). She was like Betty Ross; there only to be a love interest for the main character.
And then I was watching Thor: The Dark World, and I was hit with a realization.
Of course she’s not a ‘strong’ character like Peggy Carter or Natasha Romanov.
She’s a scientist.
Before Thor came along and disrupted her life, she was a scientist studying out space and wormholes and whatever else (
i’m not a scientist i have no idea). Natasha was made and bred into this world of spy and intrigue. Peggy Carter, Sharon Carter and Maria Hill are all women in military positions—Peggy with the Army (I think?) and Sharon and Maria with SHIELD. And Pepper, as amazing as she is, really only defeated Aldrich Killian because she was injected with Extremis. Jane Foster wasn’t made for this world of aliens and gods and superheroes. Jane doesn’t have what any of the other female Marvel characters have, which is the skills necessary to keep up with these types of characters.
You know what she does have? She has her science, and she has a neverending scientific curiosity.
When Jane is zapped into an alternate space, the first thing she does is investigate the weird cube thing there. She goes and sticks her finger in it, and she doesn’t start freaking out until the Aether sinks into her skin.
When she’s traveling the Bifrost, she looks about her in wonder and awe, because yes, she’s traveling in space, but this is also the culmination of her life’s work, absolutely proof that she was right, and you can just bet her brain was whirring as she added all that into place.
When she’s on the healing table in Asgard, she knows exactly what it is. You can hear the sneer in the Asgardian healer’s voice, can almost hear her thinking Oh this puny mortal thinks she’s so smart, but what does she know?, but Jane knows exactly what this device is. Asgardian science is so advanced it looks like magic to Midgardians but Jane still knows what it is.
She slaps Loki. This is a being who invaded her world twice, who helped wipe a New Mexico town off the map and brought an army into New York. This is an alien on par with Thor, who could probably break her neck with a flick of his wrist. And she storms up and slaps him. That’s brave. A little reckless and foolhardy, for the above-mentioned reasons, but brave. She’s not a cowering damsel by any means.
The only real time she’s anywhere close to being a damsel is when Loki hands her over to Malakith, which was actually just part of the plan, so it hardly even counts.
Even during the final battle, Jane isn’t a damsel or sitting helpless. She’s an asset. She’s the one who manages to reconfigure Erik’s devices to induce the anomalies caused by the Convergence. She’s the one who stands in a bell tower as aliens fight outside and causes things to disappear to help Thor stall Malakith so he can’t destroy the world.
Jane Foster isn’t strong, not in the way Maria or Natasha or Peggy or Sharon are, because she wasn’t made for that. But that doesn’t make her weak. She is a scientist, and she uses her brains to help out in the ways she can. She isn’t physically strong, but she’s well-rounded in the ways that truly strong characters are.
I’ve been brainwashed into thinking the only strong female characters are the ones with sharp edges who can kill you just by looking at you. That’s not what a strong female character is. Jane Foster is strong, in her own way, and I’m done hating her. We need more female characters like her, not the type to save the day with her brawn, but with her brain.
I used to hate Jane Foster. I don’t any more.
Have 1.5k of a random TwoBastards AU I found in my writing doc
They moved to Boston in ‘10, just her and him in a shitty one-room basement apartment in JP, three strikes against them and all their worldly possessions fitting in the back of Evangeline (not that that means much, her frame worked over again and again for seven years by all their hands, started by Ray and touched up by Marc and Liz a week ago, their wounds still aching under new skin). They’re supposed to have a PO a piece, but it’s only Côte who shows up at their door on move-in day.
Imagine your icon being your new roommate.
i’d get so much crap done if he helped me get myself organized
I think there’s a good chance I’ll end up drinking mine…
It’s all fun and games until I wake up with no memories.
Clean, quiet, polite, at least one of them’s warm and friendly and plays nice music.
Mafia connections might cause an issue, but eh, I’d room with them.