#all hail the smiley mug

[mercilessflowchart]

Tiny doodle of Carl's smiley mug!

[kangaroo-sniper-imagine]

Unintimidating reader who’s a killa killa

-snipers is longer solely because ive had that idea in my head LONG before i got this request-

-also, little gorey so beware-

Medic

Ludwig is almost instantly enamoured with you once he got comfortable with you on base. He finds you sweet and calls you “kleine krankenschwester” (little nurse) whenever you insist on helping him in any way with his workload. You apologize when you bump into inanimate objects and try copying Archimedes’ cooing. You’re a cupcake!

And finally he gets a good eyeful of you on the field. You’re brutal and vicious and smiling the whole time as you bash in an enemy Heavy’s head with a sledgehammer. You take out an enemy Scout’s leg with your weapon and let him try and crawl away from you before you finish him off with a laugh. Ludwig is now convinced you’re his soulmate

Our dear doctor loves tenderness that hides ruthlessness. Loves that you are sweet as a bumble bee to your team but a beast to your opposers. He’s excited at the new possibilities between the two of you know that he knows that he no longer has to hide his own ferocity with his experiments in front of you

Sniper

Hell, Mick isn’t even convinced you should be on the field. You wore brightly colored clothes and skirts and for fuck’s sake you bake, all. The. time. You're like Holly Homemaker, why the hell are you hanging with a bunch of mercenaries? How were you even picked for this job? At your first match, he debated on whether he should watch you from his perch to protect you or do his job. He chose his job, duh. But only for a few matches. When he finally decides to track you,and oooooh boy.

An enemy Spy has his knife in your shoulder, pining you to a wall. Mick doesn’t have a clear shot to take out the spook without getting you too. It’s not fun watching a teammate die, even if they do come back. But right as he was about to shift his attention to the main battle he sees it. You. Pissed the fuck off.

Mick watches with interest as you grab the hand that’s stabbing you with one of your delicate hands as the other grabs the spook’s lapel and drag in the enemy, mouths crushing together. A shot of betrayal and shock freezes the hitman before he sees it. The red running down your chin; the struggle of the enemy Spy trying to thrash himself away from you; the look of manic rage in your eye. When you let the Spy go, Mick can see teeth but no lip and it hits him. You bit off the man’s mouth.

After you swiftly wretch the knife out of your shoulder and into the neck of your opponent, you wipe your mouth, you call for a medic and return to fighting. Mick is now a little scared of you, but now will no longer ever think again that you can’t handle yourself on the field. Never brings up what he saw but will sometimes watch you work now

Heavy

Mikhail already finds hardly anyone intimidating, you are no exception; especially with your short stature and demure demeanor. He worries about you honestly, watching you to make sure none of the other mercs try to take advantage of you because you give off the energy of a doormat. It’s his big brother senses in part, he thinks, also in part of because he has a leetle crush on tiny woman who will listen to him drone on about Sasha and Russian literature well into the night.

You do more protecting than defending during the fighting. You watch the case and keep people away from it as Misha mows down the enemies to keep them away from the intel (and you), so he hasn't had the pleasure of watching you work. But buddy, when he gets it. A chance of happenstance allows Heavy to finally see you operate, lets him see you sit pretty as the enemy steps on your hidden bombs and walk into the line of your automatic tracking weaponry and get mowed down in a hail of bullets as all you do is smile and hold the briefcase. So well covered by your own inventions you don’t even need to be worried as the blood of your enemy splashes up onto your clothes

Misha finds you even MORE endearing now. Man loves intelligent women and if you made all of those killing machines holy fuck, could you mod Sasha?? You’re in your element as you effortlessly kill the opponent, and Misha loves watching your inventions do what they do best (he feels a kinship with your weapons as he too, preforms extreme violence to protect you) (He’s still gonna watch your back at the base tho for sure)

Scout

You were like another Spy, except without all the European flair that Spy had. You were kinda bland, tired looking. Jeremy’s never seen you train or fight; you spent most of all your free time being “tutored” by Spy to become a better Infiltrator, and frankly, Jeremy is more afraid of bread than he is of you (and not just the tumor filled bread). Spy hasd insinuated that you were ready to finally be put on the field with the rest of the mercs for the next match, and now Jeremy is more excited to have another person to show off to rather than to see you in action

But of course, Jeremy fucks up. He’s hiding in an empty building, bleeding from a shot from an enemy Sniper, and staring at the wrong end of a Heavy’s gun, hating the feeling of defeat. The Heavy was rambling on about something but the wound in his side had more of Scout’s attention; that is, until, a figure slowly, silently descended from the rafters. It was you, dressed head to toe in black save for a sliver of your team’s color on your armband. You look at the monologuing Heavy before giving Jeremy a look that said “Man, he’s a wind bag, huh?” you gestured to the enemy, then drew your finger across your throat with a questioning look in your eye. Scout manages a weak nod, losing focus quickly.

Another long cord, similar to the one holding you to the ceiling, unraveled itself from around your arm, and very quickly you whipped it around the enemy’s neck, jumped onto his back, and wretched your arms back, almost instantly decapitating the Heavy. Even as the lumbering body fell down, you remained upright, hopping off the body gracefully. With swift efficiency, you kicked the head out of the way, grabbed the comically large gun, and aimed it at the door. Before Scour could even ask what the fuck was going on, an enemy Medic came in through the door. Before the German had a chance to yelp, you shot him dead.

“Yo, what the-!” You hastily toss a med-pack at him before melting into the shadow, Scout almost missing the darkening blush on your mostly covered face. After that little save, Jeremy now goes out of his way to be nice to you, and learns a lesson that looks are hella deceiving. It would pay to have someone watching his back on the field without all the unwanted french commentary (and you’re nicer to look at than Spy, let's be real)

Demo

You’re cheerful, but not in the sadistic, almost taunting way many of the other mercs are like. Not like the Doc or Spook. Nope, you were just happy. Not ditzy or stupid or anything, just a smiley little thing that had as much bite as a toothless alligator. The thought that someone could take you as a serious threat, some wee thing that eats rainbow colored cereal and wears bunny slippers throughout the base, was so hilarious that Tavish starts chuckling whenever it crosses his mind. The two of you don’t typically fight together, you sticking to high ground to pick off enemies as Demo gleefully stays in the thick of it all to implode the other team

Due to unfortunate circumstances, you're both pinned down together, shoulder to shoulder under a makeshift barrier as the enemy gets closer and closer; your bow at the ready with an arrow and his bombs prepared to go off at his command, but no opening to go up and take a shot/throw a bomb. You huff, looking around wildly before nodding decisively, looking to Tavish. “Gimme one of your sticky bombs.” He complies, half thinking that you’re gonna take the both of you out in a blaze of gory glory.

With a look of determination, you aim in front of you, not even at the enemy. Tavish prepares to die for the third time that day, but this time by his own creation, and you release your arrow. The projectile bounces off a scrap bit of metal on the ground, ricocheting the arrow up into hitting the lamppost, and then flying over their heads into the enemy’s ranks. Once the bomb went off, you instantaneously bounce out of the hiding place and opened fire on the stragglers who didn't get offed by the bomb. Tavish can only stare as you mow down the other team as a random stream of sunlight illuminates your figure. Demo catches feels in that moment

Pyro

Pryo liked that you were lowkey and sweet. The fact that you weren’t especially harsh or violent while relaxing initially made them flock to you just to hang out in their down time. Pyro loves to give you cute little toys and stuffies and see you smile! The only time Pyro really sees you on the battlefield is when they’re looking for you. They’re worried about you! You’re their favorite!

They catch you, mid-battle, covered head to toe in the blood of an enemy Scout, laying only a few feet away. They think you look so pretty! Like sparkles and rainbows are all around you and flower petals are floating in the air and surrounding you (it’s ash; pyro started a blaze not that far away and it was finally beginning to get to the two of you)

Pyro just sees this as more couple binding time, now that they know that you also tend to get a little too into the battle. It’s an excuse to spend even more time together

Engineer

This boy was so dang in love with you and he’s never even seen you fight. On the base, you were as sweet as a peach and harmless as a mouse. You spent most of your time in Dell’s workshop helping him with menial tasks like refilling his coffee mug or reorganizing his tools or alike. You got along well with all the other mercs and were quick to help others. Dell never really saw you while fighting because he had to stick near his machines while your job took you all over the battle field

He hears about you fighting from the others. Scout was retelling the group about you “friggin’ awesome fight” between you and an enemy Medic. You had, according to Scout (and Heavy, who nodded along in agreement) got into a fist fight with the enemy, physically beating them into submission. Dell wouldn’t believe it if you hadn’t walked right at the end of the tale with a black eye, bloodied knuckles, and a lopsided grin. Dell almost has a fucking heart attack seeing you in such a state. The Doctor heals you up back to normal like nothing ever happened but the fact that you relied on physical violence to fight made him anxious

He doesn't talk to you about fighting differently, he wants to know if there's anything he can do to help you fight, like making special gloves or armor of some type. Homeboy just wants to protect you, he gets hella worried.

Soldier

Jane, seemingly perpetually stuck in the 40’s and 50’s, believes most women shouldn't be on the battlefield at all. And even though you were there working with a bunch of other mercenaries, a lady is a lady and he, the old fashioned man he is, prioritizes keeping you “safe” (taking your kills before you get the chance to land the finishing blows). In his mind, he’s doing you a service. After all, you are far too soft spoken at the base to have any form of bite in you on the field.

Across the field though, one fight, Jane was just too far away to swoop in and “save” you like he normally would; not even his rocket launcher would get to you in time to stop the Spy from doing you in! The instant the enemy’s knife was about to pierce your back, though, Jane saw you turn around whip fast, your own machete thrusting forward to impale the enemy.

The soldier now thinks that your “womanly intuition” is far more superior and more finely tuned than his own, and will now generally leave you alone to fight and stops hovering over you. Will shout out encouragements from across the field whenever he sees that you hack someone apart and loudly brags that you have the “natural advantage” to sniffing out enemies.

Spy

-This is gonna be a drabble cus i dunno how to bullet point this-

Jacque didn’t think particularly much of you. You were a teammate, an asset to be used. On the base you were reserved, spending most of your time in the Doctor’s infirmary or discussing something with Mikhail about books or whatever. You stayed out of his way, not like it was hard for you, seeing as you were just some wisp of a thing, someone who if they sat still long enough would blend into the background like air. Spy never assumed that you would ever be of any use to him in a fight; you just didn’t have the look of a fighter in you.

So right now, his life being in your hands, made him uncomfortable in ways he couldn’t care to count.

The enemy Spy, who was almost as tricky as him, cleverly disguised himself as Jacque, and right as they were about to confront each other, you burst through the door, looking surprised at the two of them. Almost immediately, they started to accuse the other.

“He’s the enemy!”

“No, HE is!”

“The intruder is HIM!”

Jacque will give you some props, seeing as you drew your gun as soon as you saw the pair, but rather than aim it usefully at at least ONE of them, YOU aim it uselessly to the floor! Jacque would’ve scolded you for your unprofessionalism if the imminent threat of death wasn’t less than six feet away from him.

You looked wildly in between the two of them, your normally pleasant face now stricken with panic. Your eyes land solidly on the enemy Spy, and with a sharp intake of breath, you run to him, throwing your arms around him and burying your face into the falsely colored lapel.

Jacque felt disappointment bloom in his chest, along with dread when he watched your mistake.

The spy looked so damn smug as he wrapped his arms around you, throwing Jacque a satisfied look. The gun still was gripped in your hand, still aiming at the ground.

“Ma pauvre petite fille,” he crooned, “est-ce que le grand méchant espion t'a fait peur?”

You sniffle, and bring the gun up to the imposter’s head. “Je n'ai pas facilement peur.” Jacque didn’t think you could ever say something so coldly, and say it in french to boot. One shot rang out and the man in your arms fell to the floor, suit changing back to what it was meant to be, stained with red from the blood of his fatal wound.

After some deliberation with yourself, you shot him again, in the chest. You looked to Jacque, your face now once again passive.

With a sigh and a dramatic flourish, the living Spy fetched a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it quickly, taking a deep huff before addressing you.

“How did you know that he was not me?”

You holster your weapon back, mulling over your answer. “Few things, uh… you never speak French to me,” you stuck out one finger, “you wouldn’t ever hug me,” another finger, “you don’t stand with your feet that far apart,” one more, “and you smell completely different.” with all but your thumb sticking out, you nodded to yourself before jamming both hands into your pants pockets, tucking in your chin and turning heel back to the door, seemingly finished with your explanation and conversation.

Amused, Jacque took another slow drag of his cigarette, planning on paying more attention to you in the future, being sure never to underestimate you again.

-this, uuuuuhhh, took on a life of its own-

[mastcomm]

Emojis Meet Hieroglyphs: If King Tut Could Text

JERUSALEM — The sleek figures, kohl-rimmed eyes and offerings to the gods etched on ancient Egypt’s temples and tombs are enjoying a kind of graphic afterlife, reincarnated in the tears of joy, clinking beer mugs and burger emojis of digital messaging.

An exhibition at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem, “Emoglyphs: Picture-Writing From Hieroglyphs to the Emoji,” highlights the seemingly obvious, but also complicated, relationship between the iconic communication system from antiquity and the lingua franca of the cyber age.

A visual and linguistic exercise in time travel, “Emoglyphs” juxtaposes the once indecipherable pictogram writing of ancient Egypt, which first developed about 5,000 years ago, with the more accessible and universal usage of pictograms that originated in Japan in the late 1990s.

“It was always hard to explain how to read hieroglyphics,” said Shirly Ben Dor Evian, an Egyptologist and the show’s curator. “In recent years it’s become easier to explain because people are writing with pictures. So I started looking into emoji.”

The first thing she noticed, she said, was that some emojis look like hieroglyphs.

A chart at the entrance of the exhibition pairs a column of hieroglyphs with a column of emojis. The similarities are uncanny: There’s no need for translation.

The Egyptian depiction of a slender, generic dog closely resembles the emoji of a prancing canine in profile. A duck (often used as a generic for a winged creature in ancient Egyptian) reappears thousands of years later as an almost identical, left-facing emoji duck. And the “emoji man dancing” strikes a similar pose to a hieroglyph of a dancing man, one arm raised and with little but a purple disco suit and a loin cloth from 3,000 years ago to distinguish between them.

The exhibition, in a small gallery in the museum’s Bronfman Archaeology Wing, has more than 60 ancient Egyptian artifacts on display; most are from the museum’s collection and many of them on view for the first time. Visitors can quiz themselves on their understanding of emojis and their newly acquired knowledge of hieroglyphs on interactive screens. Data on the differing interpretation of some emojis will be gathered as part of a survey.

The two systems may have common features, but there are also deep and complex differences.

Hieroglyphics was a complete written language, and while even an illiterate person could recognize and understand some basic symbols, the scribes worked according to strict rules and had to be highly skilled. Ancient Egyptian inscriptions eventually morphed into the dry efficiency of the first alphabet of around 20 characters, which could be more easily taught and executed, leading to an explosion in communications.

“What’s happened now,” said Ms. Ben Dor Evian, who has a hieroglyph app on her cellphone, “is that it is easier to click on an emoji than to write a whole word.”

Emojis often serve as emotional shorthand — think smiley blowing a heart kiss to soften a message or send love, or a winking face to signal sarcasm — filling an expressive void that text messages may fail to convey.

In ancient Egyptian writing and art, the image of a scarab, or dung beetle, expressed a whole concept of the afterlife and rebirth and was used in inscriptions as the verb “to become.” Hieroglyphics also had ways of adding context in the form of a set of mute symbols known as “classifiers.” A Libyan throw stick could, for example, be used to denote foreignness.

Both systems appear to perceive the power of pictograms. An ancient spell inscribed on a scarab to ease the journey of the dead into the afterlife depicted birds without legs, to prevent them from wandering away from the spell. Thousands of years later, in 2016, Apple switched its lifelike revolver emoji for a bright green toy squirt gun, a move followed by other platforms, in a gesture to those working to reduce gun violence and accessibility.

With the beginnings of research into the field of emoji, Egyptologists, cognitive linguists and communication experts have started debating the similarities between the two communication systems and what sets them apart.

Some have hailed emoji as a new language. One enthusiast produced a crowdsourced and crowd-funded emoji version of Herman Melville’s classic “Moby-Dick” titled “Emoji Dick.” In 2015, Oxford Dictionaries chose the “face with tears of joy” emoji as its word of the year, saying it best represented “the ethos, mood and preoccupations” of the period.

But Chaim Noy, a professor in the school of communications at Bar Ilan University near Tel Aviv who teaches a course on emoji “because it attracts students,” considers it simplistic and populist to speak of emoji as a language, viewing it as a kind of body-language supplement to text.

An expert in museum studies as well, Professor Noy said there was nevertheless “drama” in the exhibition, which runs through Oct. 12, juxtaposing the high culture of the museum and ancient Egypt against the bottom-up, lowbrow culture of emoji.

“It’s a bit provocative, it brushes off the tired, dusty image,” he said.

Emojis may just be the latest manifestation in a long history of pictographic writing and signage, from prehistoric cave painting to advertising logos. Cave dwellers used strong colors to make their wall images tens of thousands of years ago. “Those are super-emoji, more emoji than emoji,” Professor Noy said, adding, “They invented the emoji.”

The exhibition allows the public a rare chance to connect with the ancient world in a way that is relevant to life today, said Prof. Orly Goldwasser, head of Egyptology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, adding that the Egyptians faced some of the same problems as emoji users and developers.

On their own, words and pictures can only go so far in conveying abstract ideas. So the advent of the alphabet, Professor Goldwasser said, was both “a great victory and a great loss.”

“It destroyed the picture,” she said of the alphabet. But now, she added, “All the yearning for the picture has come back through the emoji. So emoji is filling a void, a lack, in the dryness of the word.”

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/event/emojis-meet-hieroglyphs-if-king-tut-could-text/

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