So it’s midnight and I’m tossing in my sheets like I’m fighting against a purple riptide and thoughts are racing through my head, echoing in my ears like thunder. What are they exactly? One may ask. Well, to the rest of the world, it is pathetic, but to my fellow geeks/shippers, it is all too simple. I’m disappointed that my ship Romanogers/Captasha) may not happen.
I have been up to date with all the latest reports with Captain America: Civil War, and not long ago, Emily VanCamp (Sharon Carter) was spotted on set. I have no idea why, but I do not like VanCamp as an actress. Maybe it’s because she stars in that horrible TV show (I don’t like TV shows to begin with - sorry Revenge fans) but if Sharon was portrayed by someone like Rachel McAdams or something, I may like her more. But, well, I don’t. And I see through bias Romanogers lenses because I can distinguish the chemistry swirl between these two characters of mystery (Steve and Nat, that is) and I see the sparkle in their eyes and I think “Just kiss will yah?” These characters, that I have grown up loving and cherishing, deserve a swing into the unknown, a leap of faith that results in the blessings that love bestows. Perhaps a little dramatic but hey, why not?
I see Nat’s struggle with her demons and Steve’s battle with his own and I see the dust settling on their broken souls. I see one half of them empty, a gaping hole that they hoard around, open and exposed. I see the outline where the other belongs and I think ‘why don’t you just join them together Marvel? They can breathe life into one another.’ Why Steve and Nat? Some may think. Well, because they are both opposite and the same, they have psychological issues of their own and their chemistry is thick enough to slice through with a machete.
Natasha is a killer queen. She weaves her web and lures her prey with those emerald eyes and she snatches their soul away… Well that’s what she use to do. That was her previous web of games. But she doesn’t play them any more. She is not the ruthless weapons that the Red Room designed her to be. It takes courage to push past the skeletons of your past, to break out of the shell that you were held captive in for so long. The wolves of her past stalk her constantly, they lurk in the shadows and growl into her ears. She is drowning in regret. She deserves a savior.
Steve is just as tormented as Natasha. He was locked away in an icy coffin for 70 years, frozen in time by choice. He left behind the ones he loved for the sake of freedom. All the emotions that he lived with while he was ensnared in that frosty tomb, memories when he was too sick to breathe, his mother’s lifeless body laid before him, Gambling with the lives of those who stood in the way of freedom, Bucky plummeting to his death… They burn into his mind and Pierce his heart. He may lose this battle if he doesn’t have someone to fight beside.
So they both have demons, problems, guilt and regret. What now? Well, these aspects, no matter how dark they are, compliment each other. I’d like to see how their differences affect their relationship. I want to see Steve try to push past Natasha’s facade, and I want to see Natasha Coil up, afraid to let her past seep through. I want to see Natasha try to reach out to Steve, but pull down that Black Widow mask, not wanting to look dependent or ridiculous (because she is neither of those things) and I want to see her struggle with the emotions she doesn’t recognize. Is love really worth tearing down the barriers that took me so long to build? I want to see a script for that Marvel. Steve and Natasha are so brave people forget they are suffering. Every hero needs their own one to deliver them. Boy or girl. Man or woman. Everyone deserves someone.
Every now and again, the notion of reality slices through my thoughts. That reality is truth - Steve and Nat are unfortunately not real. I know they are a character of fiction that were born from someone else’s intellect and imagination. So why again am I so worked up? Why is there an anchor in my stomach and a pit in my chest over something that isn’t even real? Why am I so fucking worked up about characters that are fictional? Well, the answer is simple, once again: We get too attached.
We create our own versions of the characters we love and paint our desires for them on the canvas of our very own imagination. We read and we write about these ‘illusions’ and to the ghosts that live in the real world, those who accept reality, we seem insane. We probably are. But at least we have more fun being insane than we would being a robot of reality.