Chapter Text
We went along and grieved
when Buffy's mom died
and Tara, and Anya
(meanwhile grinding our teeth at how
the lesbian always kicks it).
We cursed you for the Big Damn Movie,
for Book and Wash, for Zoe's loss -
wrestled with it, fought with it,
and came each to our own terms.
But then.
But then.
Between then and now,
fandom has transformed into
a pre-release party.
We dress up our stars in
coats of a thousand colors and
set them on the carpet to
adore.
You cannot survive on
old tricks, cannot
wreck our ships and
hope to make us
believe you.
We know what belief is;
we make it ourselves.
You want to know what fandom thinks?
#coulsonlives
It was a Life Model Decoy,
a plot by Fury,
a robot heart,
Peggy's kiss,
Highlander immortals,
Asgardian healers,
the Tesseract,
sometimes the serum, sometimes the magic -
sometimes he made the call himself.
But almost everyone knows
(just glance on Tumblr and see),
#furylies #coulsonlives
Whether he's Fenris (and Loki couldn't
kill his own son),
or Darcy's dad,
or an MIB agent on loan,
whether StarkTech's in his body now,
or Hela went on a Niflheim run,
we asked, he delivered -
#coulsonlives
Thor found a light in a jar;
Tony had JARVIS track down the room;
Natasha knew more than she said;
Clint's been wandering the air ducts;
Steve knew the blood was fake;
Banner's reading his chart right now.
Fury was just waiting
to be sure he'd make it through -
#coulsonlives
He sleeps,
in a room in the belly of the helicarrier
and wakes to find:
a note from Fury,
Clint perched on a chair,
Natasha holding his hand,
his fern dead,
Loki a kid,
Steve signing his cards,
Thor hugging him a bit too hard,
Pepper babysitting,
Darcy chasing her iPod,
Bucky wearing a Stark arm,
Jane blowing up a lab or three
(Tony totally helped),
and everyone running on poptarts and coffee
(except Bruce, who drinks tea)
because life as Coulson, first name "Agent",
requires too much paperwork to deny
#coulsonlives
He lives with them in the tower
(in the mansion, in Malibu)
sleeps at his desk most nights
or in someone else's bed.
He cleans up their messes
and
kisses their booboos;
he's Darcy's boss, or Sharon's,
or Clint and Natasha's handler,
or Pepper's drinking buddy,
or Hill's eyes on the ground,
Supernanny in charge
while JARVIS makes the footage disappear.
He pretends not to notice the treehouse
or poker night
and disapproves of the pool party until
Sif's invited.
He made up rules number one through ninety-four
to keep the house in one piece.
We can all keep calm like it's our job because
#coulsonlives
Some days he's
just off-screen
on special assignment.
He runs the coffee shop
in the basement.
He likes
having his suits hand-tailored by Bruce
in a quaint shop.
He's stuck in a cave
(poor Fenris again)
and needs Loki's magic to break free.
He's stealing Sleipnir out of Asgard,
or deciding whether to classify
Tony's Roomba army as a threat.
You have to wonder if he ever wishes no one knew
#coulsonlives
A funny thing happened on the way to Avengers.
Fandom went and got pheels for a guy
who was meant to be just another
suit. We decided
we wanted him for our straight man
(or not so straight, sometimes).
This is Marvel - no one
stays dead.
(Winter Soldier anyone?)
After so many decades, these tricks are
thin, worn out.
Tug a heartstring or six,
be a cellist and
play us. We won't
follow your tune.
Fandom has rejected your reality and
replaced it with our own.
If you're wondering what we'll be doing
between now and 2015?
We'll be partying it up at SHIELD
~Stark-style~
while Sitwell prints out banners saying
#coulsonlives