Genuinelysurpriseditsbutter

what makes a h e r o

This is the /an/ post that keeps on giving.

We really have harmed a whole generation of trans and gnc children by failing to communicate how serious a decision binding actually is, how there’s no ACTUALLY safe way to bind, how it permeneantly damages the body, how it can make top surgery more difficult in the future. I don’t think we should be keeping trans kids from binding (we let kids do all sorts of things they’re really not old enough to understand the potential consequences of) but we owe them the ability to make informed decisions at LEAST

Clintucky (WinterHawk)

Based entirely off of THIS PICTURE by the talented @shan101pi and written in approximately seven minutes so I didn’t forget the idea:

ALSO, I feel like this could use a dozen or so more chapters. 

ALSO If I write more, I’ll probably call it “Greener Pastures” or something like that, but Clintucky made me laugh so hard I ugly snorted so… you know :) 

******************

The woman at the bar in town had told Bucky the farm was “not quite hollerin’ distance from the bridge, but close enough to be called a walk”. 

Bucky didn’t know what the hell those directions meant, but there was a driveway a short walk from the end of the bridge and a gate with a handwritten sign proclaiming “Free Chikkens if you can Catch’ Em” and since it was the only gate he’d seen since leaving town nearly an hour previous, he figured this was the one the redhead had meant. 

Farm work wasn’t exactly Bucky’s idea of a good time, but he needed money and he needed a lowkey place to hide stay for a few months and after hitching a ride with a trucker in Chicago and ending up in the middle of Cornfield, USA– well, this was good a spot as any to hunker down for a while. 

The lane was longer than Bucky had expected, and after an hours hike from town he was puffing a little when he finally made the turn around a corner and came up on a big farmhouse that looked like something out of those cheesy Americana pictures– picket fences and white shutters and a big porch with a couple rocking chairs. 

Bucky half expected to smell apple pie and see a hound dog lazing around in the shade, maybe spy a couple of bare foot brats running round in the creek, but even after standing in the yard for a few minutes, Bucky didn’t see anyone or hear anything other than the noise of animals in the distance. 

Upon closer inspection, it was obvious the farm house wasn’t quite as perfect as he’d first thought– shutters hanging sideways and paint peeling. The rocking chair leg was broken and the porch steps sagged alarmingly when Bucky walked up and one of the windows was broken, a sheet of plastic stretched over the frame to keep the weather out. 

“Hello?” Bucky called, his hand automatically twitching towards the gun tucked in back of his pants. He didn’t like the emptiness and he didn’t like the silence. “Anyone here? Hello? Girl in town said you needed some help out here, is anyone here?” 

Quiet for another moment and then Bucky tipped his head to the side, thinking he’d heard a voice around back. 

“Hello?” He avoided the squeaky porch and went down to the yard and around to the barn he’d glimpsed coming up the road. “Anyone back here? I’m looking for some work?” 

There was definitely a voice coming from the barn and Bucky approached the double doors cautiously, not wanting to startle anyone who might be holding a rifle or some other farm implement that could double as a weapon. 

“Hello?” he called again. “I’m looking for the guy that owns this place….?” he poked his head around the doors and stopped in his tracks. “Um… what is going on here?” 

The man in the middle of the barn was being chased around by what could only be an army of chicks, fluffy balls of yellow armed with sharp beaks and the most obnoxious peeps in the world, shouting, “No no no! I was trying to feed you! Don’t turn on me like this!” 

The guy stopped abruptly when he saw Bucky at the door. “Oh. Hey look at that. Can I help–” he looked down when his feet were swarmed by annoyed sounding chicks. “Aw chickies….no. Go find your mama or something, I don’t even like you!” 

Despite his words, the blonde bent down and scooped up armfuls of chicks, clucking and trilling at them as he carried them over to a makeshift pen. “Please stay there. I’m begging you. I’m literally begging you. Five minutes.” 

He shut the pen door with his foot and made an attempt at dusting chick feathers off his clothes and hair before shooting Bucky a grin. “Sorry about that. Chickens. What’r’ya gonna do?” 

“Um–” Bucky made a vague gesture, not quite sure what to think about the scene he’d just witnessed. “Well uh–” 

“Tasha phoned to say she was sending someone down to work with me.” the farmer continued with a friendly smile. “Took you so long to get here, thought for sure you’d gotten lost. Find the place okay?” 

“The directions I was given included the phrase ‘hollerin’ distance from the bridge’.” Bucky said flatly, regaining at least a little of his composure. “Not really sure how to interpret that.” 

“Oh, that means if you stood on the bridge and hollered?” he shook his head. “I couldn’t hear you at the house.”

“…alright.”

“So you’re looking for work, huh?” A quick sweep of blue eyes over Bucky’s frame, lingering over the gleam of his silver prostheses. “Can’t say I was expecting a Terminator to answer my help wanted add but you look beefy enough to toss hay bales and I suppose that’s all that matters. Welcome to Clintucky.” 

“Welcome to–” Bucky looked down at the outstretched hand and then back up at the guy. “Sorry, what? Welcome to where?” 

“Clintucky.” he said again, as if the word explained anything at all. “You know, like Kentucky, except my name’s Clint, not Ken, so it’s Clintucky.” 

“Clintucky.” 

“Oh right, right I’m bad at this, let me try again.” He cleared his throat and offered his hand again. “Name’s Clint and this is my farm. You lookin’ for work for the summer?” 

“Uh… yes?” Bucky reached out and shook Clint’s hand. “Yes I am.” 

“Great.” Clint looked so relieved it almost worried Bucky. “Cos I’ve got about a billion things needin’ done round here. I can’t pay you a whole lot but you can sleep in the house and use my truck and all that. We can switch off making meals if that’s your thing. Gotta be up with sunrise which is a bitch, but I make great coffee. You allergic to anything? Cats? Dogs? Milk?” 

“…no.” 

“Well then great! You can start in the morning!” Clint was practically beaming at him, and then– “Oh shit, I am bad at this. What did you say your name was?” 

“Bucky.” he said slowly, and Clint turned that megawatt grin up a couple notches in brightness. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Alright then Bucky Barnes. Welcome to Clintucky. Lookin’ forward to working with you.” 

Bucky couldn’t help his own begrudging smile, or the way his eyes lingered at the pull of faded flannel on Clint’s shoulders, the strain at the seam of his jeans as the farmer crouched back down to swoop up another runaway chick. 

“Lookin’ forward to working with you too.” 

*********************

Spider-Man: Homecoming’s Gag Reel

Rhodey and Tony watch Pixar movies together on Thursday nights and cry during the sad parts while Pepper rolls her eyes and hands them both tissues.

Reblog if you agree.

this is the money dog, repost in the next 24 hours and money will come your way!!

Gosh dammit muffin! Now I can't get the idea of long haired andorogynous zuko out of my head, and I'm like "what if he'd never done the bald ponytail thing and just let his hair grow back, so by the show he had long ass hair" and then I was like "what if he joined the gaang after crossroads and figured that the best way to go incognito was as a woman since people were looking for the PRINCE. Anyway now i'm staring down a blank google doc so thx.

Yesss.