#me posting this at night knowing i will get zero traction on it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

earthstellar · 4 years ago

Text

More TFP Deep Thinking: Transformers and Road Safety

So, we have two episodes in TFP that touch on road safety concerns in regards to humans using/driving/riding in sentient vehicles:

Road Safety Themed Episode Summaries:

1) Speed Metal - Jack gets into street racing to beat a bully. Arcee initially enables it, Bumblebee does later after Jack and Miko both pressure him into it.

This ends badly, with the bully being injured and needing to be rescued after being knocked out by Knock Out.

2) Legacy - Smokescreen fails to care for human road rules in any way despite Jack trying his best to teach him how to drive on Earth; Because Jack is a teenager, he gives in to Smokescreen’s peer pressure and screws around after the bully returns.

Smokescreen then gets called out for a mission, but not caring about human safety (probably due to an inability to internalise or appreciate just how dangerous this whole situation is for humans in general), he brings Jack along and it doesn’t go well.

This is a long post, so I am putting it below a cut to spare everyone having to scroll for a mile:

General Concerns About Sentient Vehicles in Practice:

Because this is a kid’s show, ostensibly anyway, the bully is mostly fine at the end of Speed Metal, and Legacy depicts dangerous driving in a way that a young audience can internalise as “oh, that’s bad” as the episode ends with Arcee being furious with both Jack and Smokescreen.

But they raise some pretty good points about just how dangerous the entire concept of being in a sentient vehicle actually is.

I’m only going to focus on two main points here to prevent this from being the world’s longest post ever, but I do want to talk about them because they are common Transformers media themes and I think it’s interesting to think about the ramifications of some of this stuff in-universe as well as from a more realistic point of view.

The Humans Involved are Mostly Children and Teenagers

All of the humans involved in these episodes are children/teens, which adds a new level of horror to all of us who are watching it as adults.

I used to work in education and social care for at-risk youth, and we did actually have some cases of kids getting hurt in reckless driving/illegal driving situations, so I’m naturally a little more sensitive to this whole topic altogether.

We do see Fowler and June get thrown around a bit, but I’m going to focus on the kids, because doing this kind of shit with children involved is inherently more dangerous and scary.

1) Being children, they don’t have any driving experience.

Jack does, but primarily/only on a motorcycle from what we see on the show as far as I remember, and even then, he’s a teenager in high school and we can assume he hasn’t been driving for very long overall.

So to kids/young people, who are overwhelmingly more familiar and comfortable with being passengers rather than drivers (even Jack only has probably a couple years of driving experience due to his age regardless of how much confidence he has behind the wheel), the idea of being in an uncontrollable vehicle able to do whatever it wants with you inside of it is sort of a nightmare!

When something goes wrong and you lose control of your car in real life, it’s scary as hell even with years of experience driving.

For example, when hitting ice on the road, your car starts to spin out or starts drifting, there’s no traction, and you have to get your shit together quickly.

I have experienced that several times myself, and it sucks. It is massively scary, every single time, and that is when you still have some modicum of control over your vehicle.

Now imagine if your car instantly became totally uncontrollable and no input or activity you could possibly perform would resolve the dangerous situation, because your vehicle itself is the dangerous situation.

Now imagine you are also a child with zero driving experience, who implicitly trusted that your vehicle would drive safely and via the intended route, suddenly thrown into a situation where shit has changed and the vehicle is now doing things that you cannot predict and cannot alter or prevent in any way.

There’s no way they could ever touch on this seriously in TFP or any other Transformers media because it has potential to be genuinely frightening to the target young audience demographic if depicted in certain ways, and it would sort of be show-breaking because of the potential impact of that kind of fear on the human characters within the show (at the very least).

But this shit is scary, and even moreso for young kids. I was in a pretty terrifying couple of car/road incidents as a kid, and I remember the feeling of being completely shit scared while the windows cracked and shattered, the muffler was ripped out of the bottom of the car, and we were pinned between two big rigs (cargo and oil tanker) on the highway at 65 MPH at night.

I can’t help but think of the TFP kids being put in a situation where they’re all driving convoy style away from Decepticons for whatever reason, and while they are in their respective guardian’s alt-modes, they get shoved up against Optimus at high speed...

I’m telling you, it’s a trauma factory.

2) A Transformer could just decide to do anything. Whenever.

This is obvious, but let me break it down in more detail:

A particularly unsettling moment in Speed Metal is when Jack is riding on Arcee, and they pull up to a light-- And Jack’s school bully makes some snide comments which set off Arcee, so she peels out at high speed from what looks to be a four way intersection.

It’s worth noting that Jack is more level headed than Arcee about it here, for the most part. He even questions her actions, calling her out for violating her own road safety rules. She disregards him, saying “just this once”. YIKES.

I’d like to point out that she does some seriously dangerous high speed manoeuvres in that scene, including a left side overtake while accelerating to attempt to mitigate wheel skipping and any lost speed from lateral drag that puts Jack inches in front of a high speed car:

Now, arguably, if need be she could have transformed and prevented any major collision/injury, but keep in mind the bully is a civilian and having to remain secret is a consideration; Any hesitation here could result in casualties, and that concern may well cause hesitation in deciding to transform or not.

And on top of that, is putting Jack in this position in the first place a good idea, even knowing a Transformer is extremely likely to out perform a human vehicle even without transforming? Hell no, and here’s why:

He is riding Arcee like any other motorcycle; He’s just holding on and hoping for the best at this point in the street race.

He could easily fall and roll off, because he’s not able to tilt his weight into any of the turns or effectively prepare for anything Arcee is doing. Look at the angle in that one screenshot above; Jack’s doing a hell of a job just trying to stay seated, and the sudden strain on his left leg/hip has to be pretty uncomfortable.

Motorcycles do not have seatbelts, unless they are specialty gear, and even if Arcee’s alt-mode does have some way to secure a rider, Jack absolutely did not have them engaged as this ride did not start out as a street race and I do not recall seeing anything that suggests Arcee has engaged any type of seatbelt or other additional rider safety measure here.

I’ve both ridden and driven motorcycles before, and the idea of doing so at high speed with an uncontrolled, unpredictable motorcycle (or driver if I am passenger) is frightening. There’s no way to know when to adjust your position/balance, grip, or anything. Jack isn’t manually controlling anything, his hands are off the controls on the handlebars because those are Arcee’s functions.

So she just hauls off, high speed, and does extremely sharp weaving turns in close proximity to another high speed vehicle-- Because a human teenager was talking shit to them at a stoplight.

It’s not responsible guardian behaviour, and this is somewhat called out in this episode and again more heavily in Legacy, but uh, there’s a lot of reckless Transformer driving with humans involved in this franchise in general, and this is a more blatantly unnecessary example.

And the thing is, Arcee is fairly serious and strict. She is a mature person and typically handles road safety well when it comes to Jack and the other children. Yet, she still ends up encouraging street racing.

Cybertronians don’t typically fully seem to grasp humanity or our realistic limitations as a species, and while most of them do generally try their best to avoid problems or injuries of any humans they work with, there are plenty of situations and conversations throughout all Transformers media that sort of emphasises as a running theme that they really don’t 100% internalise that yes, this shit is wildly dangerous for humans. Like, all of it.

Arcee was doing manoeuvres that I’m sure she could recover from if they went poorly. But could Jack? No, and she wasn’t fully considering that in this moment.

Unfortunately, although Arcee handwaves it as “just this once”, it only takes once for this to result in serious injury or death. A dumbass teenager managed to goad her into risking Jack’s safety for the sake of beating said dumbass teenager.

Even the most mature and strict Cybertronians are prone to screwing around now and then.

The more familiar they are with humans, the more lax they generally seem to get about keeping an eye on measuring out what they do in accordance to human tolerances and limitations.

We sometimes see this in reverse, which is kind of how this is handled in TFP; After this episode, in Legacy, she digs into Jack and Smokescreen brutally. So at least she learned something.

But Cybertronians are people, and they are still people in alt-mode, and no person is ever perfect.

Sometimes, your giant space robot guardian is going to turn into a car, let you get in, and then ten minutes later you are going at brutal speeds barely missing instant death every other second because another space robot called them a weenie or something.

Everyone gets mad sometimes, and does dumb shit. The thing is, “just this once” is not acceptable when driving with a much more delicate human.

The same thing applies in real life; No adult worth shit would ever risk driving dangerously with a younger person in/on the vehicle with them.

But people are people, and people still do dumb shit sometimes. And sometimes that dumb shit has a body count. It is unfortunately human, and apparently Cybertronian, nature.

Conclusion!

I’m leaving this as it is for now because I have to get ready for work. lmao

I had other stuff I also wanted to say/touch on here, but I write a lot and I know nobody wants to read a million pages about this. (Although if you do, tell me, because I absolutely could do that write up.)

If you read all of this, thank you!

#long post #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #arcee #jack darby #smokescreen #maccadam #tf

36 notes · View notes

todaydreambelieversfic · 4 years ago

Text

Author Spotlight: Coffeegleek Day 3

Author : @coffeegleek��

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

At least a few revisions. Then multiple editing passes, and even with my spouse as my proofreader for the past 25+ years, and doing more editing passes before posting to AO3, I still find annoying little typos, sometimes large ones.

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

There was a crack fic I stopped writing years ago. It was a self-challenge during one of those tumblr trope challenges. I was trying to combine all of the tropes into the same fic as they were announced. It got zero traction though so I gave up. I'd love to go back and complete it, make it better. I had the whole thing outlined too.

What do you look for in a beta?

My spouse. We've been together for decades. He's been proofreading my original science fiction work and various fandoms' fanfics since before we were married. He even proofreads my Klaine smut and doesn't blink an eye. (He's a Glee fan too and on tumblr.) He knows what I'm trying to say when I can't find the right words and supplies them. He catches things I don't. What I love the most is for my original work, he's written his own fanfic. It's BAD. It truly is, but it's so heartfelt and earnest. He even came up with a soundtrack should I ever publish my sci-fi novel and the movie or show rights be bought. You really can't get a better beta than that. <3

There’s a number of friends on tumblr that I bounce ideas off of and who give me advice for topics they know far more about than me and google. I try to thank them in my fics.

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I’m going to steal another author’s recent answer and say that I could never do someone else’s work justice. However, I would love to see the author’s ideas for their fics even if they couldn’t write a prequel or sequel.

I suck at remembering titles and author names. There were two political fics that I would love to read more of should their authors ever decide to write in those verses again. One was where Kurt and Blaine's dads were running for president and Kurt and Blaine were along for the ride, staying in the same hotels at time (where they first met,) having to do school remotely, having to be the perfect sons for the press and Blaine being fed up because his parents were conservative Republicans. Then there was another fic where Burt was president and Kurt was the First Son living in the White House, along with Finn, and it was hard to date when your every move is watched by the press.

Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I write AU, so canon is only a word often misspelled by me. :) Seriously though, I try to incorporate as many canon elements and characters into my AU fics as I can. It's the kind of AU I like to read as well. What draws me to read and write AUs is taking canon characters, putting them into a different setting, and seeing how they'll react. At their core, they still need to remain the same in principle and have many of the same traits. Like Kurt will always love fashion and be headstrong no matter what. Blaine is always going to have that spark within himself, no matter how depressed or oppressed he gets. Burt and Carole are always going to be loving and nurturing parents at heart. Even in fics where Burt isn't woke, there's a part of him that means well. (Not one of my own fics, but one I read a long time ago.) Different circumstances will change the canon characters and make them react in different ways though. Like, Kurt could end up more withdrawn and hide his love of fashion as a matter of survival and self preservation. He or Blaine could turn into "bad boys." Coach Beiste will always have a heart of gold. Miss Pillsbury will always have a problem with messes. Things like that. I know canon. Give me all the alternate universe versions of it and I will be a happy camper.

Talk about a review that made your day.

I haven't checked for reviews on my fics in ages (because I'm an insecure chicken) so I don't remember any specifically. I do remember there were many that made my day. There are those who take the time to review every chapter. Ones who write only a short note to thank me for writing the fic - both the angsty ones and the cracky fun ones. I love it when someone mentions something that no one else has that I was hoping someone would notice because I was proud of it. I'm not a popular author and don't get a lot of kudos or comments or reblogs compared to many. So each comment and kudos means a lot to me and I'd like to publicly thank every single person who wrote one or hit that kudos button.

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I once got a troll who decided it was his job to complain that I had misspelled hors d'oeuvres in one sentence out of an entire verse where the word was written multiple times correctly. It was a series of Klaine Advent one shots for the Empty Nest verse. At first I was shocked and replied with an apology. Then I was, "F this. The person is a troll who didn't read any other part of the fic or verse, just this one quickly written one shot entry, and if all they had to say was that I'd misspelled a commonly misspelled word, then they aren't worth my time." I deleted the comment. There's concrit and trolling. It wasn't concrit.

What advice do you have for people just starting to write?

Have fun writing, even the hard stuff. Know that it's okay to take breaks. Try your best and know you'll get better the more you write and the more you read. Pronouns are your friend and free. Don't put, "I know this is going to suck, so whatever," in your fic description. We all suck at times. It's a part of writing. But if you want folks to read it, using that as your fic's summary isn't the way to go. Just my opinions, which won't even buy you a cup of coffee.

Which fic do you most like to discuss with other people? Why?

I think it’s pretty obvious from all of my rambling that I enjoy talking about both of my series - Empty Nest verse and A Very Hallmark Christmas verse. I'm not a popular author and I know my fics, especially the Empty Nest verse ones, aren’t everyone’s thing, so I never get to really discuss them except with friends that I bug to death in private and via long replies to comments on AO3. (You all are saints blessed by all of the good and patient gods.) I have so much to say about them - the process of writing them, the world building, research, and character decisions that went into every single one. I know they’re not perfect. I know the Empty Nest verse grew miles beyond the ficlette about Burt and Carole that it was meant to be. I know my sense of humor in the Hallmark verse isn’t everyone’s thing either. I still worked really hard on them and am glad that I did. Empty Nest let me release a lot of the fear and anxiety I had for my Hispanic and gay son after the 2016 election. The Hallmark ones were a needed break to put some humor into my life. If others enjoyed them, great. If folks want to know more, my inbox is always open.

What's one aspect of writing fic that gets you really excited?

Writing humor even if I'm the only one that finds it funny. As I said above, writing the Hallmark Christmas movie dialogue and plot and the actors as they were filming it was a blast. Writing the commercials was fun and exciting. In my angsty fics, knowing I wrote a good scene, line, or moment that brought out all the feels. That's more of “satisfaction of a job well done” than excited.

***

Check out Coffeegleek’s Fics

Humorous Spooky Drabbles - Humorous drabbles to spookish type prompts based on a tumblr post called October Drabble Prompts #1 by hallofceleano. The parts in bold and italic are from those prompts. Characters include Kurt, Blaine, Burt, Carole, and Finn. All fun; only #4 has some mild angst. #4 is for snarkyhag and regarding #5 - I know next to nothing about Twilight and had to look up Taylor Lautner on imdb. The liberties I took are my own.

A Very Sloppy Christmas - lucy8675309 posted to tumblr a series of gifs with Kurt dressed up as an elf. It inspired me to write the following prompt, which CoffeeAddict80 encouraged me to write as a fic:

I now want a fic where real Santa’s elf!Kurt gets drunk and vents to Blaine about all the woes of working for Santa. He’s over 100 years old and the outfits are terrible. Why couldn’t they wear clothes like the elves did in that one movie? Drunk elf Kurt has no idea he’s venting to Santa’s son.

Bonus if he wakes up and realizes he just had a drunken one night stand. He isn’t sure who it was with. Only that he’s naked, the guy in the bed beside him is naked and showing off a really great ass. Then said guy turns over and after Kurt’s done staring at his dick, he looks at the guy’s face and realizes who it is.

It’s a Twisted World - I decided to challenge myself by combining the posted 5 weekly Klaine AU Friday themes and adding another one of my own. So that means: Farm, Fairytale, Vintage (1900’s,) Super Powers, Zombie Apocalypse, and Harry Potter World Klaine with a splash of a fic idea I thought of while in the produce section of the grocery store. Each week, the story will continue, though each part stands alone. This is not a brilliant work of perfectly composed fan fiction. What it is, is fast-paced, cracky fun, with a large dose of innuendo. At least it had my son laughing his ass off. I hope y'all enjoy it too. :)

#author spotlight #coffeegleek

20 notes · View notes

theunholygrails · 5 years ago

Text

Very Differently

Summary: This isn’t really new, just something I never got around to posting here. Basically my take on Budapest with an OC added to the mix for fun.

Masterlist

Zdravstvuyte

The shadows cast from the wastefully clad guests in the soft angles and indecipherable masses were notably more elegant than the calculating frowns of their creators. A gloved hand traced along a freshly polished curling oak banister as Sonja made her was to join the babbling benefactors. Leaflets of conversations rustled not long enough to take root but simply flew past on the careful air of disinterest her fellow hosts held about them. With a sharp nod of her head and a demure curve of her lips, she joined the nearest transaction.

Arms dealing can be tricky business when neither party particularly trusted the other.

Jewels painted the necklines of her most generous buyer and in their pristine surfaces, she could make out the warning flash of the smallest red dot. Sonja shifted with a subtle flip of her hair to block the shot and simultaneously tapped her earpiece.

“Ma’am, I do believe my husband is coming down with something fatal.” she said.

Even if she did not have a husband to speak of, the message was abundantly clear—the event was compromised because Black Widow herself was present.

“Take care of it, Chief. I need this night to be spotless.”

“Got it.”

Security hustled onto the floor at Sonja’s signal to escort each of the dozen or so guests back to their armored vehicles.

With the prompting of her boss in her ear, Sonja slipped out the back door to attempt to uncover any tracks the Widow might have left behind.

The wet asphalt did little to help her heels find traction as she scanned the nearest buildings for the optimal vantage point the spy must have taken to train a snipper on people under her protection. With the rest of her security team busy locking down the premises, she was left to the goose chase even though looking for tracks from this particular prey was about as promising as searching for footprints after a storm.

She tensed when something popped right beside her ear and the sharp slap of metal hit her cheek. She scolded her hammering heart and forced a calm gaze to the arrow that kissed her skin and was now imbedded in the wall. Her hand went to the dual blades tucked against her thighs knowing full well that any assassin after her would not be foolish enough to miss twice.

A test of her ear piece told her its signal had been knocked out somehow. A heavy pair of boots splashed down beside her and she whipped into a defensive pose before the archer could cut her mission short.

The man kneeling across from her had his bow pressed to the ground and his black stealth suit clinging to him like any woman in her proper mind would in a scenario a little less lethal than this. Given a situation where she were allowed to use her real name and wash the blonde dye from her hair, she might have done just that because his looks were wasted on the dark, filthy streets of Samara, Russia.

“Hello, easy, Chief. I’m not here for you. Sonic took out your communications, also I was listening in a little bit, Ma’am is a weird name. Is that like the birth one or did she rename herself that? I’m looking for the Widow. You know anything?”

“Does anyone?” she flicked her blades so they would glint in warning beneath the lazy stars.

“They sent one person out to challenge her? Seems a little under kill. Unless you’re just the bait.”

She advanced a step to show just how much of a danger she truly was. His mouth curved up in amusement when he rose from his crouch. “You’re not going to let me leave,” he said.

“I fear my boss will want to speak with anyone chasing her.”

“Knew better,” he sighed. “Alright, let’s do this before I have to check out of my hotel.”

Her first swipe cut only into nothing as he swiveled around to her back. She feigned left, sweeping her right foot back to catch his ankles.

“Woah, who taught you that?” he demanded, dancing over the attack.

While she paused to process his stunned remark his completely unstunned body cracked his bow against her forehead. She grabbed at his forearm, twisting until it clattered free of his grip. “Quiet, American.”

“Was it Hill?” he carried on. “You with S.H.I.E.L.D?”

Now she faltered and he did not take the opportunity to jam any of his color coordinated arrows into her temple.

“I wasn’t told of another operative here,” he babbled.

She slammed her shoulder into his chest and landed him flat on his ass where she could properly threaten him.

“I’m handling it.”

“This is about as under control as a mouse wrestling a snake.”

“You realize I’m pinning you right,” she demanded, dropping her knees to either side of his hips and pressing the flats of her blades against either of his wrists.

“That means nothing. I’m letting you. Just so you know, they asked me to do your job first. Also, the first and last fight I had with the Widow ended with my jaw dislocated. That was back when I cornered her in Milan. That makes me a mouse too.”

“Sadly, I think that just makes more dinner for the snake instead of an overwhelming force.”

He shrugged his eyebrows and glanced down pointedly. With a sigh she crawled to sit beside him as he grunted and rolled onto his stomach. Hands propped under his head as princess worthy blue eyes fluttered up at her. “Feel better? I think you missed bruising one of my ribs if you wanted a clean sweep.”

“I was going to ask why Fury didn’t tell me you were coming, but pretending you don’t exist does seem to be the only way to deal with your bullshit.”

“Supposed to be super top fucking secret but since you kind of outed me, not cool by the way, want to work together to charm a snake?”

“Is she a spider or a snake, man? Make up your damn mind.”

He rocked back, clutching his knees as a laugh barreled through him. “Oh, I like you. You don’t get a say now. We’re working together. Got something more stealthy than that yellow dress?”

***

She did not give one rat’s ass how he got into her apartment only that he could have possibly blown her cover.

“Brought flowers. Told the doorman I wanted to surprise you.”

“Was the surprise that I had a boyfriend?” she deadpanned as she shrugged off her bulky overcoat.

“Fiancé, when he asks but that’s not why I’m here. I need your help bringing her in. She vanished, shook all my tracking abilities. From what I hear, you’re pretty handy with the underworld system.”

“If you hear anything then I’m doing my job wrong. Why would you want her brought in anyway? Isn’t protocol to take out someone that rouge and dangerous?”

He gave his knees a firm pat before pushing off them to match their heights. “I think she could prove an asset. I made this call. If it goes south, it’s on me. I know I’m asking you to compromise yourself but from what I can tell, the Widow is more involved in mafia’s inner working than the little crew you head. We find her, we get you your hot target too.”

“Ma’am is a pretty cold-hearted bitch from ghost chatter I’ve picked up.”

A tug of his grey hoodie secured it around his face for a safety net just in case anyone was spying in from the dirt smeared window to their right. Sonja was afforded no such luxury because her face was always bared to the world. She was buried way too deep in her world of shit to risk disguises. “Funny. We should work well together.”

“What’s your clearance?” She demanded.

The space of her apartment was deemed worthy of her retailer to host grand parties of up to a dozen people but she already felt stuffy with his confident presence entirely too close to her though he remained clear across the green wallpapered room with his feet twisting into her recently purchased, hand woven rug. It was probably worth three times his ratty boots with its intricate depiction of a fanfare of angels descending the heavens; this man was no angel.

“Alpha.”

“That doesn’t exist. Ten is the highest. I would know, I was the reason they created it.”

A tilt of his head told her he was only amused with her declaration and not in awe like all other inferiors she came across. “Welcome to Alpha then. I’ll fill you in on the plane.”

“I thought you didn’t know where she was.”

“I said she shook me. That doesn’t mean I don’t know her well enough to predict where she would go. Pack light, Budapest can be unforgiving this time of year.”

“Got a name?”

“Got a code, Hawkeye. Yours?”

“Zero.”

***

Being nearly run over three time while crossing a single street was a personal record for Sonja. Hawkeye was weighed down beneath a tan backpack filled with waters, old and clunky laptops, maps, granola bars (as if she could live off of those along), and a very distinct lack of weapons. Hawkeye had insisted on leaving them behind because airport security did not make exceptions for undercover agents and using a private jet would raise too many eyebrows. He had extracted her daggers from her and then held his hand out expectantly for the spares he could not have known she kept tucked neatly between her planner and wallet in her purse. She felt slightly less naked when he tossed his bow as well but still would rather not relying on their combined wit and charm since her partner appeared to be painfully lacking in both and making up for it with 100 proof sarcasm.

The wind buckled with the weight of the dry air it carried and tugged at the ends of Sonja’s hastily dyed and chopped off brunette locks. A sunhat kept the loose waves mashed against her face and even bigger sunglasses kept the prying sun at bay along with Hawkeye’s dancing glances back to make sure she was keeping up with his soundless steps.

“Come on,” he called even though the only closer she could have been to him would be to just piggyback it.

“Where is the safe house again?” she called over the roar of traffic.

He pause while a couple bustled between them, their heads bent in deep conversation then nodded politely to a minister though she doubted his devilish grin could even point out a church. “Next block. You wanna take over bag duty? I’ve got this crick in my neck I haven’t been able to shake since the plane.”

“That’s because you were stupid enough to sleep on the plane. On my shoulder no less. There’s a drool stain.”

The bag was tossed at her chest where her hands caught it without the aid of her gaze leaving his. “If your posture was more slumped we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Excuse me for remaining vigilant.”

“Trust me, your people don’t know you’re missing yet. You’ve probably got until noon.” His eyes skipped between his blank wrist and the sun overhead to judge the time. “And once we get set up with internet, I will clear the airways of anything we might have left behind. Say, do you think you could give me some sort of reaction? The constant dead expression is a bit intimidating.”

“I can see why the Widow dislocated your jaw, you talk too much.”

She spotted the covert insignia for S.H.I.E.L.D. and pushed past him to key in the day’s number sequence for entrance. There was distinct absence of air conditioning when they entered the stale room sitting on the basement level of what appeared to be the back of a tourist ice cream shop. Hawkeye’s bulky jacket hit the floor then his paisley shirt was tossed over the back of a chair that used to be sand colored but appeared to have been recently stained with globs of red. His back hit the ground as he fiddled with the window unit and Sonja set to toeing along the perimeter of their quarters.

She came across the outlet first sitting adjacent to the Ethernet cable in the far right corner. After depositing the backpack for him to fiddle with later on, she peeled off her overcoat and tank top while she stuck her head into the bathroom to check on the water situation. What trickled from the sink was lukewarm at coldest and the pressure in the shower was laughable but at least the toilet flushed and air freshener hung from the doorknob. Its orange tree shape was swinging in the next moment as blessed air filled the cramped space.

Sonja emerged from the bathroom with her sports bra held away from her damp skin. “Guess you are useful.”

“Do me a favor and check the freezer.” He toed off his boots as he walked, adding more of his shit to the mess that made her fingers twitch to clean only slightly.

“Think they left us frozen dinners? Because you’re health nut bars are not going to cut it Hawk.”

“I’ll order pizza for us,” he called with a wink as he tapped away on the booting up monster of a laptop.

She grumbled her response and pried open the rusted closed freezer doors that concealed an inside that somehow felt hotter than the oven of a city. Two metal cases rested inside, one smaller and snugly sitting atop

“You know how to defuse bombs right?” she called, eyes tracing the otherwise empty white cubicle for any wire or trigger.

“That’s a no. They’re presents from Fury.”

She did not move to take his word for it but instead carefully shifted the boxes sideways while sliding her hand where they sat in case it was weight sensitive. When she felt only the sleek, flat bottom, she cautiously picked up the bottom box from either edge with just the tips of her fingers and walked it as far away from Hawkeye as she could manage.

“For Christ’s sake, Z. I special requested those. Look, the code is 1971 on the bigger one and all zeroes on the other because I’m brilliant. If those don’t work then you can pull out your bomb squad suit.” He strode over, task forgotten, and squatted beside her kneeling form. “I’m not sure whether I’m offended you don’t trust me or flattered you’re trying to keep my out of harm's way.”

She flinched when he keyed in the numbers and passed her the first case carelessly before punching in his own and flipping the lid up to reveal and brand-spanking-new carbon fiber and purple streaked bow.

“Stealthy.” Sonja pulled out her own sleek new dagger set. Four blades so sharp just the skimming of her fingers drew their first blood. “Gorgeous.”

“I’m going to assume both of those were for me. Look, since I slept earlier, you take this round and I’ll wake you when night says it's time to move.”

When she made no move to do as such, he groaned and jutted out his hand. “Clint,” he said.

“What,” she snapped.

“That’s my name. Clint Barton. 1971 is the year I was born.”

“Is this supposed to make me trust you?”

“What? You want my social security number? Passport? Birth certificate? To be honest, I have so many of those I probably couldn’t pinpoint the original for you.”

She glanced down to hide the smiled curving up her lips and tucked a single dagger into her calf high sock. After refolding the hem of her khaki shorts, she felt composed enough to meet his impatient blue eyes. His smile was quick and brilliant and caught her so off guard she returned it, still vulnerable from the previous moments.

“There she is. Listen miss bomb technician, that why they call you zero? Because of the countdown? Anyway, if you don’t sleep you risk both our asses tonight and I happen to have a fine ass. As a gentleman I have not checked yours out but I am willing to bet that it’s at least half as good as mine.”

“If I go to sleep will you shut up?”

He touched his scarred knuckles against her cheek and lugged his new toys over to the ancient ones where he set up shop for the next few hours. The flimsy mattress with springs poking out every few inches was tucked away between the window and the front door and Sonja barely got her coat down on it before her head crashed against her arm for her pillow and her eyes tapped out.

***

do svidaniya

Clint’s version of a gentle awakening was a kick to her foot as he passed by. Of course, her leg swept out in defense and he landed face first on the mattress beside her. Her groggy eyes blinked open at him and promptly scowled at the dumbfounded expressions holding even his usual smart ass comment at bay.

“We better be under attack,” she grumbled, failing when she attempted to remove her already asleep arm from beneath his heavy torso.

It took him an alarming number of seconds to compose an answer and she squinted through sleep crust to glare at him. His lips parted then apparently he discovered them too dry to speak because his tongue swept out and at this proximity, so close she would not even have to reach to strangle him, the smell of his lingering bubblegum toothpaste pulled her fully into reality.

The same abrupt force that stilled him froze her from shoving him off the bed. She blamed the dreams still singing to her but the more likely cause was his hand which had by the damnation of some god landed on the dip of her waist, not her ass or her breast, which would be far simpler to explain the skip in her chest.

His recovery was like watching a runner recover from a particularly nasty hurdle “Afraid your mafia is running a little behind schedule, so we have to go out and meet them. Gear up.”

He grunted when her knee sent him rolling to the floor next.

“What time is it, Hawk?”

“2100. Think you bruised my bladder.”

Her change of clothes were swept up and the bathroom door slammed between them and the meager form of water she coaxed from the sink drowned out the breath she heaved from her lungs. The woman staring back at her was faded and spotted where the mirror was tarnished from the years without maintenance.

There was scarcely enough time to worry about saving her own skin let alone playing guess that hormone with an archer she met two days ago. A quick coaching session of her emotions and the addition of a black beanie, matching under armor shirt, and a lightweight bullet proof vest she emerged, undoing the button to her shorts after regretfully noticing the absence of the last bit of her uniform.

Clint lounged in front of the air unit in identical gear, hands folded across his pulled in knees so that the muscles fought against the fabric of his shirt. “Didn’t know pants were optional,” he called as she neatly folded her shorts beside their supply bag and produced the cargo pants that would be hiding her weapons for the evening. “I did appreciate that silky number you wore for me on our first mission,” he continued.

A belt secured the bottoms and after shoving her feet into the boots she stomped one down dangerously close to his most vulnerable bits and offered a sweet smile down at him.

“Think the world has one too many eunuchs as it is. Next time you want me to tie your laces try a nice ‘Clinton, would you be a dear and tie my fucking shoes?’”

“Don’t I feel like Cinderella?”

Deft fingers made quick work of her laces and she was still admiring the knots she could not even begin worrying about how to undo when he stood and shouldered his bow.

“Let’s go catch a spider, Z.”

“Let’s take down the Samarian crew as well while we’re at it.”

The night was their friend, lending its heaviest cloud cover from the stars that dared shine from the moonless sky as they jogged through the still bustling city’s alleys.

They passed a meat truck making a last minute delivery and Clint offered the driver the nod of his head before prodding Sonja’s body to pick up the speed as if they were out for a jog instead of on the tracks of the most dangerous woman on any side of the world. She shifted out of his reach, none too content on having her mind replay its earlier clash with emotions for the rest of the mission.

The building where Clint’s found surveillance footage last picked up her image was tucked between the river and the last wall of structures. A fishing shack where Sonja doubted the lights from the horn riddled bridge now stretching over their heads could penetrate if a paid professional like herself were taking shelter there.

Rounding the last bend on the downward slanting street, Clint caught her belt loop and pulled her against the crumbling brick building that smelled like moss and moldy bread. She bent her knees to keep from slipping down the slope on the loose cobblestones beneath their feet and still managed to subtly maneuver further from him because his aftershave was making repeating the plan like a mantra in her head a thing for the birds.

“Hey, you with me, Zero? You remember what we talked about?”

“Not dying or the not fucking up part?”

“See, I knew you weren’t listening to me.”

“Relax, Hawk. I’ve been doing this since I was toddling.”

“Really? Diapers for me.”

She swatted his arm when his blue eyes danced with humor and closed her own to reel herself back in.

“Seriously, though, you up for this? Because I can go in alone…”

“Like, hell, Hawk. You’re long range, I distract. Stick to it.”

He held out his knuckles wrapped in fingerless gloves that would help his aim. With a laugh disguised as a groan, she knocked hers against his and watched as he began scaling the fire escape to the tops of the connected houses leading to the perfect vantage point.

It took the coaxing of the restless waves to remind her that she too did not have the fortune of sitting still and allowing her already spiraling life to make Budapest its final resting place.

The traps took precious time to pick out--a motion detector from the front porch, a snoring dog with paws running in the air when she slipped around to the side, an electrical ward along the single sealed window, and finally a good old fashioned set of cans on the roof she managed to climb on. Sonja crouched on the narrow ledge of the none-too-secure roofing tiles, still off balance from her misjudged landing.

The cans, a mix of unopened green peas for which Sonja could not blame her and chili whose lids appeared to have been ripped off by bare hands, were stacks to at least twice her height and made a perfect circle around what she had to assume was another vulnerable entrance. From her original distance of spotting from the bridge with Clint, it had appeared merely another level of the shack which she could scale but now was proving to be just a pain in her ass. She circled on feet quieter than death to the side where Clint could see her and held out her hands helplessly.

“No in?” He said over the ear piece.

A shake of her head was the answer she knew his strapped on night goggles could pick up.

“Alright, hold on.”

“Clint!” she hissed out as an idea struck.

“Hell of a time to break out the Christian name.”

“Knock out the electricity on window.”

“I know you remember how these sonic arrows work. Our communication will be cut off and I know you’ll miss this sweet watchful voice, Z.”

“Sonja,” she whispered, hunching down on her knees and throwing a finger down as if he did not know the window she intended.

“No, sonic.”

“That’s my name you moron. You’ve got to trust me. Just shoot it.”

There was that hesitation from him again, she was beginning to understand how his head worked. The job was simple, something he was trained beyond reason for, but she was a variable he had to carefully calculate into the equation.

“Alright. I’m right behind you.”

“I know. Just don’t miss.”

She heard the smile in his response, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

“Are we really resorting to quoting Star Wars right now?”

“Fire in the hole, Sonja.”

The arrow struck home with a muted thwack and Sonja slid down onto the windowsill throwing a thumbs up into the now unresponsive night as she jimmied her dagger around to unlock the window. A second blade joined her free hand when she ducked inside.

The first thing she noticed was the complete lack of interior decoration just like their own safe house and the second unfortunately was that the insides were also void of any inhabitants. Why so much security without anything to protect?

There was a knock at the front door and a moment later Sonja remembered the power surge would also have affected the motion detector. She wearily trudged over before sliding into a defensive position when she flung the door back.

She saw the Black Widow first and her arrogant smirk followed by the prompting of an arrow to her skull.

“Plan B then?” Sonja called as Clint jostled their target into the room.

“I thought we agreed this was the more likely alternative,” he said. “Making it plan A.”

Sonja shrugged and pulled the handcuffs from her calf pocket before moving to snap them securely around the Widow’s ankles. The woman grunted as a green glow filled the room and a shift of her hips proved her unable of even lifting her feet.

When Sonja straightened and reached to tuck a stray strand of hair back into her braid, the woman finally spoke. “Props.” she said.

“Thanks, we’ve been practicing that last bit for hours now. I was really worried about the execution.” Clint strolled around to the front of their captive, pockets bulging with confiscated weapons.

“Not you, Barton. I knew you were on my ass for months. Her I wasn’t even looking for.”

Sonja crossed her arms. “Case. Point. What’s your real name?”

“Natasha Romanov.”

The plain reply jarred both her and her partner equally and Clint took her arm, walking her as far back into the room as he could manage before inclining his forehead to make the whisper easier hear. “She’s going to try to play a game with us. Anyone around her is instantly compromised. I need you to stay with me.”

A sharp nod answered him and his grin danced with mischief as he swung back around to stroll over to Natasha with his bow forgotten and swinging in his left hand. Sonja did not even feign relaxation but rubbed her thumbs over the sweating hilts of her daggers.

“This about the Avengers initiative? I read all about it last week,” Natasha said.

“You know it is. That’s why you let us capture you.”

“Let?” Sonja’s arms slipped from their protective frame.

Clint pushed on, feigning deafness when Sonja knew good and well his hearing aids were in. “You’ve got a nasty ledger and S.H.I.E.L.D. only wants to help you rectify it through the Avengers.”

“Avengers?” Sonja questioned.

“I’m fine where I am,” Natasha retorted giving the glowing shackles weighing down her feet a good tug and only ending up on her knees which, despite the powerless position, she somehow conveyed was right where she wanted to be.

Clint sighed and dropped as well. “You’re fine painting every city you go to with blood for people you don’t even know? The Avengers are going to protect the world and we want you to be a part of that.”

“Cute speech. Did Sonja feed it to you? You’re not bright enough to try the emotion ploy.”

Sonja was too busy puzzling how she knew her name to reply. That’s when the first bullet cut through the air and buried itself clean in Clint’s left calf. When he keeled forward in pain, Natasha swiped the gun tucked into the back of his belt and began firing to cover all their asses.

Lurching forward, Sonja kicked the door shut and pried her pistol from her belt as her back smacked against the wall. “Clint!” she called when he finally lifted himself from the ground.

“You led the Samarians here!” Natasha shouted as bullets pelted the door and walls relentlessly.

“Whoops,” Clint managed.

“Damn right you’re gonna need my help with the Avengers if you can’t even manage to stay off their radar. I assume you at least had an escape route in place.”

Clint wiped his bloody hand off on his shirt and primed an arrow for release should their defenses be breached by the crew. “Boat out back.”

“You’re gonna have to uncuff me.” Natasha called, firing precisely through an already fragile portion of the wall to produce a thunk of dead weight only a few yard away.

The deadly accuracy made Clint hesitate as he added in yet another variable, but Sonja just tossed the keys without a word and returned to keeping her gun aimed at the door.

“Barton go first and we’ll cover you,” Natasha called as she dodged a bullet cutting entirely too close to her brain. When she sat up straight again a line of red across her forehead added to her already flaming hair and scarlet pjs look.

Clint’s gaze snapped to Sonja unwavering in its unspoken question: would she be ok alone?

“Get out of here, Hawkeye,” she added the last bit to help him depersonalize, to remind him this was just a mission and all lives involved were expendable. “I’m right behind you,” she continued when he did not move.

His mouth curved up as he heaved himself onto mostly steady feet and sprinted to the backdoor while Sonja and Natasha laid down cover fire until both were down a clip. “Together?” Natasha called.

“Hell, why not?”

Sonja leapt up first, followed shortly by the much faster woman. The night air was thick with humidity that only pooled more sweat on their skin. On the free side of the house, a man screamed as the now awakened guard dog set to work. The other side was occluded by the closely stacks buildings and on the water just ahead, Clint revved the waiting engine of the speed boat.

Natasha waded into the water and slung her leg over the side, hauling herself on board in one fluid motion. Sonja had time to see her eyes go wide before she heard the other female voice cut through the night, “Chief!”

A sword was leveled at her instead of a gun and Sonja had the absolute pleasure of facing her old boss when she turned around. “Ma’am,” she replied without a trace of emotion.

She heard the cock of Natasha’s gun along with the wiry draw of Clint’s bow and briefly wondered if he could even keep his hands steady at the moment due to the blood loss.

“Or is it Agent Zero now?”

“Whatever you prefer, Ma’am.”

“Shall we settle this like the duals of old or has all your honor gone through the window with the american?”

Sonja heard Natasha grumble about being ignored as she tucked her gun into her pocket and produced a dagger. The other hand reached for her back pocket slower all the while keeping her opponent's gaze fixed on her words. Ma’am’s bulky henchmen fanned out behind her patiently waiting to be allowed to have some fun with the traitor and spy.

“What can I say? He brought presents.”

She waited the appropriate ten seconds for the meaning behind her words to smash into Clint before she pulled the pin. The homemade grenade sailed from her hand while her body was flung in the other direction. Her side slammed into the boat and Natasha just managed to get a drip on her belt before Clint slammed the throttle into its highest gear. He was ducked on the floor by the steering console for safety just as Natasha had thrown herself beneath the low walls at Clint’s advisement.

“When did you even have time to make that?” he demanded, driving blindly down the wide river.

“You’re the one who apparently knows everything,” she snapped.

“Christ, I’m sorry, alright. You weren’t cleared to know.” He paused then turned to her while Natasha huffed and took over driving. “Zero failed missions?”

“Guess again.”

“Zero like you were the original?”

“You’re not cleared, asshole.”

***

Natasha made airports her bitch with the new fresh faced S.H.I.E.L.D recruits scurrying behind her toting her luggage and a flight attendant rushing to retrieve her properly iced water. She shot Sonja a lazy wink but the other woman was too busy scowling away any potential disturbances to do anything other than reshoulder her backpack.

Clint took the lead, his reputation sending the herd of freshmen scattering in his wake of glory. Sonja quickened her steps, determined to talk to him now that the paramedics aboard their evac copter were no longer shooting him full of drugs.

“You’re not careless,” she said once she matched long legs to his abrupt stride.

“Think Nat will make them carry her?” he mused, wincing when he stopped focusing on his uneven gait.

Sonja caught under his arm and he glanced over through sleep deprived blue eyes and the tangles his cropped hair had somehow managed to tie itself into. “You gonna make me carry you?” she countered.

“I’ve got it.”

The usual airport crowd of proud mothers, blubbering fathers, and excitable kids ready to go off and make lives for themselves meandered past them. Sonja wondered what life awaited her back at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

“I was born there, you know. S.H.I.E.L.D that is. Born and raised. I don’t exist to our government because S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t. I’m nothing, I’m just zero.”

“I let the Samarians follow us,” he admitted in the breath after she finished her confession.

“I know. You’re not careless. You needed a common enemy for us to get Romanov on our side.”

“I was going to apologize for ruining your original mission, but I think all of earth takes precedence. We wouldn’t have made it out of there if not for you.”

“Taking out Ma’am was my mission Clint. Yesterday was the first time I saw her in person. I spent years working my way up through the ranks only to figure out I would only ever be important to her when I betrayed her.”

“You’re welcome, then.” He leaned in when he sang it and she gave his face a shove away as they exited the building through sliding glass doors and reached a junction in the sidewalk where she would climb into the car that would carry her home and he would get in his rental and drive out to his next mission.

“How long has it been since you’ve been stateside?”

“Just four years. I haven’t been home since I was a teenager, though when I completed my training.”

“You don’t have to face those bastards, you know. I’ve got something involving lightning and a hammer waiting for me. Could use some backup I trust.”

“Sounds alpha level. I’ll leave you to it.”

He nodded, shifting his weight off his bad leg and closing the humming space between their bodies just enough for her to notice it was deliberate. Her hand shifted under the strap of her bag while she toed at some bits of loose gravel beneath her sneakers.

“Guess this is goodbye, then. Keep an eye on Nat for me, will you? She respects you.”

“Only because she was comparing me to you.”

His mouth pulled up in a smile she had grown all too accustomed to seeing regularly and had truthfully taken for granted now that he was leaving. The civil term of closer inspection crossed her mind as she leaned in further still followed by the embarrassing real word she had been searching for--a kiss.

She could not even recall the last time she had kissed someone without an ulterior motive. She expected him to politely return it or to laugh and tell her to collect herself, not for him to bite her lip and slide his lips between hers like the whole damn earth might spin off course if he did not. His hands were soft in her hair and his hand slid down tracing over her cheek so that his fingers replaced his lips when he reluctantly pulled away.

“Put a pin in that, Sonja?”

“You mean like when I pinned you? Or what I pulled the pin on the grenade?”

“No explosions and no more beating me up.” He punctuated his sentence with a rushed kiss to her forehead. “Unless we can twist those into kinky things.”

“Oh, it’s possible,” Natasha called as she strolled past and climbed into the waiting black SUV.

Sonja gave his chest a push and took two controlled steps backwards simply because if she didn’t there was no guarantee either of them would be setting out on their respective journeys today.

“Goodbye,” Sonja said.

With a wink that sent her spiraling higher than the pyres of Moscow’s finest cathedrals Clint Barton was gone.

#clint barton #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton smut #clint barton x reader #clint x reader #hawkeye #Avengers #avengers headcanon #avengers smut #avengers imagine #avengers drabble

91 notes · View notes

twiceblackvelvet · 5 years ago

Note

hiii can i request a for a little joyrene angst with soulmarks please? it's up to you whether you wanna make it happy in the end or not :))

A/N; i live for joyrene angst. thank you for requesting two of my favorite things together. honestly, i ended up hurting myself with this one.

As far back as Joy can remember, the world has been obsessed with the ritual of soulmate searching. The small patch of darkened skin in the shape of building blocks on her left wrist is a reminder every day that there’s someone out there she’s supposedly destined to fall in love with. However, the symbol will only show it’s true colors whenever you’re within five meters of said person and Joy’s has remained blackened since the day she first took notice of it. Many friends, family members, and passing strangers have casually bumped into their matching symbol, and yet, she’s had no luck herself.

Of course, there are ways to narrow down the search as technology has advanced over the years. Simply snapping a picture of the unique marking and uploading it to one of the thousands of forums dedicated solely to pairing the symbols together will send you a direct match if your soulmate has done the same thing. But, the world seems to enjoy playing cruel jokes on Joy as the few she has posted to have yet to gain any form of traction whatsoever.

Dating someone besides your soulmate is heavily frowned upon in society, meaning life for those unable to find theirs is a miserable road that for many has resulted in addiction, mental health deterioration, and ultimately premature death. People who have managed to survive without their soulmates are often a source of interest for those matched up. In a cruel, twisted joke, they’re paraded around on television being interviewed for not having the perfect life everyone else seemingly does. Because if life wasn’t already difficult enough without someone to fall in love with, why not treat them as outsiders in the world?

It is said that if you don’t meet the person sharing your soul mark before the age of thirty, you’re unlikely ever to. But that isn’t an issue quite yet for Joy, there are still plenty of years ahead to find the very person who has been alluding her for way too long now.

She is stuck in a monotonous cycle, working to pay off the same bills every month that seemingly become more expensive during the day, whilst at night she roams the streets of her hometown desperately seeking another lost soul who could be the one meant for her. Many would find the entire thing more and more disillusioned the longer they search. But not Joy. For giving up would be similar to accepting a death sentence, so every morning is met with a brave smile whilst every night is met with a hopeful one that tomorrow will finally be the day she can fulfill her destiny.

As the wind whistles through the street, a cold shudder settles itself across every bone in Irene’s body. Winter has always been the most difficult time of year but it seems this one is desperate to bring about a severe decline in her already poor health. A small piece of cardboard rests beneath her frozen limbs whilst a warm coat previously belonging to a cousin she has since lost contact with is all she has to cover herself up with.

Loss is easy to accept when it’s the only card you’ve been dealt, yet losing her life is something Irene has never truly considered a possibility until recently. It was a quick downfall, her parents’ decision to date outside of their soulmate and birth children was met with hatred and she was considered a plight to humanity for being the spawn of two of the soulless. Her own marking is far more faded than anyone else’s due to her not being a full soul child making it much more difficult for anyone other than her to see. The lines have also faded with age and wishing to destroy it during her teen years. But it’s still there, a constant reminder that she’s something people fear or consider evil.

No one was willing to allow the soulless to live in their homes, thus, they adapted to lining the streets with their unwanted bodies out of sheer desperation someone one day would take pity on them. It has yet to happen and Irene has lost all hope for it ever to.

She can’t recall how long it has been since she decided to leave her family behind and venture off into the world on her own, but she knows that it was a mistake. At least with her family, there was a small amount of compassion and someone to take care of finding your next meal whenever you’re too weak to do it yourself. Life alone is bleak with no escape from your own dark thoughts.

Exhaustion quickly overtakes any and all instincts as Irene allows herself to enter the one place where she’s free to dream of a better life. A place where she isn’t homeless, struggling to stay alive and stuck with this stupid title of being soulless that doesn’t grant her the same luxuries as those who have met and fallen in love with their soulmate. Seconds before her eyes shut, Irene could have sworn she saw a little glow lighting up the building blocks on her wrist, however, her body is much too weak to remain conscious.

A purple block, green block and finally yellow. Joy’s eyes remain trained to the various different colors for several seconds before her brain finally kickstarts that her soulmate must be close. Her eyes search the seemingly deserted street desperately for anyone lingering in the darkness. However, the only companion she has is the sub-zero temperature and a cup of hot soup she prepared before leaving home.

The wind picks up slightly as she continues walking aimlessly checking every single alleyway and house window for someone, anyone. Nestled down on a doorstep Joy finally spots what looks to be a body, curled up into a ball and seemingly sleeping but what gets her attention is the not-so-bright soul mark matching her own on display on the wrist tucked under the person’s head as a pillow.

She kneels before the woman gently. Her skin is cold, pale but dirty, hair matted and stuck to her head like glue whilst her plump lips are dry, completely blue.

Joy desperately shakes the frozen stiff body, yelling for whoever this person is to wake up. Without noticing, tears have begun to fall down her cheeks and land on the girl beneath her forehead. Fluttering eyes land on Joy’s wrist as her soul mark radiates brightly and a small unsettling smile creeps across Irene’s face at the realization she wasn’t seeing things and that some unfortunate soul has been tethered to her this entire time.

The same eyes close shut once more and the smile fades. The girl who wanted nothing more in life than to find her soulmate achieved her dream. It just so happens that person is someone who represents everything bad about this system Joy had put all of her hopes into and can’t possibly be the person Joy wants her to be.

A breathless whisper is all Irene can manage before her body gives up and grants her freedom from the cold, dark world that has shunned her for years.

“You found me.”

41 notes · View notes

echodrops · 6 years ago

Text

Fanon vs. Canon Shigaraki

Belatedly:

This post gained a lot more traction than expected, so quick edit: the “canon” discussed below is only my personal interpretation of canon, and this post is definitely not intended to be a guide for characterizing Shigaraki in every fanfic! Please don’t use this meta to criticize anyone else’s writing, as that was not my intention. Everyone should feel free to create what they enjoy!

Look y’all, I ain’t one to judge, but I love canon-based fics and sometimes the massive gap between Shigaraki in fanon and Shigaraki in BNHA’s canon just has me going whaaa???

I mean, like...

Fanon Shigaraki: Abhors all human contact. Lurks in his bedroom 24/7. Never speaks to others except to bitch them out. A vampire who will combust upon setting foot outside his lair.

Canon Shigaraki: Seen alone in his bedroom a grand total of one (1) time in the series; the only other time his room is shown, the rest of the entire League is squeezed in there too. Never out of contact with his followers except Dabi who is the real antisocial bitch here. Longest he’s ever been drawn spending time by himself without another major character to keep him company? Two pages. Gets mad... GOES TO THE MALL.

Fanon Shigaraki: Vocabulary consists of 80% “I’ll kill you” and 20% “Fuck off.” 1000% RAGE ALL DAY ERRYDAY. Has no concept of a good mood. Wouldn’t know how to smile if he tried. Either one step from a temper tantrum or one step from murder, there is NO IN BETWEEN BUT THERE IS FREQUENT OVERLAP.

Canon Shigaraki: Demonstrates the development of remarkable restraint, even when Bakugou damages precious “Father”...

Constantly comments on other people’s bad manners all right, this one might be a little hypocritical, but at least we know he knows what proper manners are... Is referred to on multiple occasions as being pleased with the League members’ work, implying they’ve seen him actively happy... Compliments people (even heroes) when they impress him... The second most likely villain to say “Thanks” (behind only Toga)...

Master of both the goofy grin:

And the soft smile:

Fanon Shigaraki: Can’t insult his comrades often enough. Say something nice about another human being? Hard pass. Friends? Quote: “I would rather die.” Only suffers the League because he’s forced to have allies to defeat the heroes; zero emotional attachment to his comrades unless he’s written as sleeping with Dabi and even then half the time this is still true. Would not give a fuck if half of them died except for how it would inconvenience him.

Canon Shigaraki: Is he still manipulating the League members to use their strength to further his own agenda? Oh for sure. BUT AT LEAST HE’S DOING IT POLITELY.

Since the formation of the core “League,” he frequently talks positively about his comrades, even when they’re not around to hear it:

Knows his allies well enough that he can send them out without instructions and still trust that they will act in exactly the League’s best interests:

Expresses concern for the other members’ well-being:

And has zero hesitation about throwing himself into potentially deadly situations to protect the rest of the League:

Fanon Shigaraki: An innocent, traumatized angel who had no choice but to become evil; he definitely wouldn’t be this way if he knew better! Sometimes written as a weakling who needs to be defended from anyone, everyone, the world, and especially All For One. Feeble waif, constantly on the edge of wasting away. Might cry himself to sleep at night. Never Been Touched/Don’t-Touch-Me-I-am-the-NIGHT™.

Canon Shigaraki: Craves violence like candy...

Close combat quirk means he’s always up in other people’s business... Personal space bubbles are for the weak.

Easily capable of controlling the bickering and assuaging the concerns of his team members...

An unmitigated badass who carries on whole conversations while bleeding out from bullet wounds to every limb...

And jumps from speeding vehicles without a moment’s pause. There was literally no reason for him to be on the roof of the truck EXCEPT for it looking badass. This boy is just Extra AF and I won’t hear any arguments to the contrary.

EDIT to add one more because this is also bugging me:

Fanon Shigaraki: Absolutely the worst at adapting to new scenarios. Violently rejects any form of change. Has a comfort zone the size of a wasabi pea and only ever comes out of that comfort zone kicking and screaming, dragged by another major character. Every ounce of character growth will take twelve chapters and a dramatic mental breakdown to overcome.

Canon Shigaraki: (Deliberately) Tied with Midoriya for being the most adaptive character in the series.

Never tries the same strategy twice...

Learns from, consumes, and grows by flexibly incorporating the plans and attitudes of other villains...

Actively and intentionally changes entire facets of his own behavior to further his agenda...

And to motivate his allies... From:

To:

What MAKES Shigaraki so terrifying and effective as a villain is that he is so flexible and capable of change. He demonstrates the ability to admit and learn from his mistakes, to build new plans on the fly, to gain deeper understanding of how other people work (and can be manipulated) and to quickly and easily put everything he learns into action to forward his goals. He’s fascinating in his ability to simply pick up or discard new attitudes to suit his own ends, and his actions continuously call into question what aspects of Shigaraki’s personality/behavior are genuine and which are merely a construct he’s built up deliberately to further his own and All For One’s dreams.

Shigaraki Tomura is incredible at adapting to challenges, can blend in exactly when, where, and as much as he needs to, and is significantly more open to change than virtually any other villain we’ve seen so far in the series.

But I feel like it’s rare to see this side of him in fandom portrayals?

Sure, Shigaraki is still violent, unhinged, quick-tempered, and definitely keeping things secret from the rest of the League to use them to his benefit... But uhhhh...

He’s also become a ferocious defender to his men. His actively antisocial behavior (always exaggerated) has become increasingly reduced in the story--Tomura is virtually always seen in the company of others (contrast Twice and Spinner, who we’re deliberately shown spending time alone, and Dabi, who appears to frequently work without the rest of the League). Shigaraki exhibits a reasonable gamut of emotions, including many of which are not “Go die,” and he shows a positive and grateful attitude towards his comrades (might be fake, but still at least he’s bothering to fake it, unlike Chisaki). He’s also been shown to be a great actor, both in serious scenes and in silly ones, such as his doofy reaction to Uraraka...

In terms of leadership, Tomura has advanced to the point that he’s the one promoting group solidarity, allows and wants others to think of the League as close-knit, and knows his comrades well enough to rely on them in meaningful situations. We’re led to believe he was earnest in his attempts to recruit Bakugou, that Toga has seen him happy on at least a few occasions, and that he’s okay with bringing the rest of the League into what likely qualifies as his home (something none of the other League members have ever done, at least that we’ve seen).

Furthermore, every confrontation he’s been in in the manga can only lead readers to the conclusion that Shigaraki is an absolute beast on the battlefield, easily the League’s strongest and most dangerous player, and more likely to be protecting the other League members than being protected...

So like, I ain’t out here about to criticize anyone else’s portrayals of Shigaraki in their own works, and this isn’t intended to be a guide on how to write or not write Shigaraki in fics, but I do find myself wishing his characterization in fanworks showed the same evolution as his character in the actual story.

Why write level 1 Tomura behavior when my boy is out here grinding his way to 99???

Send me your Shigaraki fic recs fam, I’m dying...

#shigaraki tomura #league of villains #canon vs fanon #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #I guess #I PROCRASTINATED GRADING MY SECOND TO LAST SET OF FINALS TO POST THIS #because I have a mighty craving #and I can't find a single fic that really seems to scratch it DDDD;#I love one (1) crusty prince #but I don't love the woobified or overly hateful versions of him that seem to keep cropping up #I KNOW EVERYONE IS ENTITLED TO THEIR OPINION #DON'T @ ME #and actually I've joked about a lot of OOC Tomura protrayals in my own posts #so it's not like I don't see the appeal #but sometimes I get tired of 90% of Tomura's dialogue being how much he hates everyone else

4K notes · View notes

onlyhereforangst · 5 years ago

Note

4, 7, 18, 25, 28 and 49

4. What is your favourite genre to write for?

Sofia- is this a real question? angssssssst baby, all day & all night 😈

7. When is your preferred time to write?

Honestly, whenever I actually *have* time. It’s quite rare nowadays with a husband that works from home & a growing toddler, so whenever I get me time that’s my preferred time 😂It used to be while I was pumping at work though! It was a wonderful distraction from being a cow at a dairy farm daily 🙃

18. Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Ok one major one comes to mind because there are several series that I do plan on finishing & I have general plotlines thought out. But Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince was a series I’ve since abandoned. Not sure it will always stay like that (@wanna-be-bold may hate me if I don’t get back to it), but when I wrote it I was super pumped about it. Loved the premise, loved my writing in it, loved the song that inspired it, but sadly I’m human & when no one else got as excited for it as I was, it sent a little black cloud over that idea. All motivation and excitement vanished into thin air with the lack of response, & thus I abandoned that storyline.

25. Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

Very, very few times have I actually, truly cried. Pretty sure it’s only been twice- the first with Completely Yours (even though I *knew* the ending would be happy but writing that letter got me hard) & the second Here By Faith (specifically ch 2) from the deeply personal story it’s based off.

28. What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

Oooh the only thing that comes to mind is not being affected by the lack of kudos & comments. Which is so so so hard, but in order to at least start- you can’t let the lack of traction get to you. It’s so important to just write to write- release your feelings to the void, no matter what response you get. Your writing is an expression of your inner most thoughts, and truly the only person’s opinion that matters of said thoughts- is you.

49. Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

I can’t remember the first one & its plotline 😭 but I know it was @hellokaelyn! It was from before I had tumblr & I followed the @torresandbishop page on twitter. I kept seeing these posts that made zero sense on twitter (Naomi reblogging Britt’s links for stories) because the post just didn’t translate well over on twitter, so I ignored them for the longest time. Finally one day I said what the hell & checked out this “hellokaelyn” person and my life was forever changed ❤️❤️

#sofiaaaaaaa #this was so fun #thank you ❤️#bringing up good & bad memories 🙃#ask #indestinatus #fic asks

7 notes · View notes

mittensmorgul · 5 years ago

Text

I’m rewatching 13.15, A Most Holy Man, right now, and... and I remember when it first aired. The reaction was largely “meh,” or “the noir format doesn’t really do it for me and the episode was kinda boring overall.” It’s possibly the s13 episode I have the least amount of posts for on my blog. It was largely skimmed over as mostly irrelevant, with the only takeaway being:

A. They got the macguffin they needed to progress the A plot by the end of the episode

and

2. They really should’ve cut that scene of Dean going on about how he’d kill everyone who tried to steal his car...

But... this was a Dabb episode. I wrote this post back in May, but I think it merits an additional look now:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/184946657745/so-im-still-out-ahead-of-the-tnt-loop-but-i

Because this single episode functions as a microcosm of their entire lives, at least thematically, if not in a 1:1 fashion. I mean, it is just a 42 minute episode. There were only so many twists and layers they could reasonably shove in, and the Rule Of Three is a convenient metric for demonstrating the pattern in narrative shorthand that invites us to consider the unspoken “etc. etc. ad nauseum” ourselves.

I’d go into the entire structure of the episode, but I’m hoping that just explaining the outcome-- after reading the post I linked above-- everyone will be able to see the parallel itself without me having to write 5k words on the subject today. :P

Let’s start with the exchange at the end of the episode that prompted this realization. Because it’s a bit of chicanery:

FATHER LUCCA: I think I got shot. [DEAN lifts up FATHER LUCCA’s shirt to see only a little blood.] DEAN: Looks like he just grazed you. A few more inches to the left and, uh... FATHER LUCCA: It’s a miracle. [SAM and DEAN, with FATHER LUCCA behind them, search the warehouse and find GREENSTREET still hiding.] GREENSTREET: I didn’t know this would happen. I… I’ll give you anything you want, huh? DEAN: The blood, where is it? GREENSTREET: It, uh… doesn’t exist. SAM: You… what? Wait a second. You told us– GREENSTREET: Exactly what you wanted to hear. It was just a bit of… DEAN: Chicanery? GREENSTREET: Exactly. DEAN: Well… chicane this. [DEAN punches GREENSTREET to the ground.] ACT FIVE EXTERIOR – WAREHOUSE – NIGHT [There are police cars outside the warehouse. A policeman leads GREENSTREET to a car and sits him inside.] GREENSTREET: No, no, no, no. Wait. Don’t – you – you – you’ve made a mistake.

For a refresher, Greenstreet was the author of this entire bit of chicanery. For a while, it appeared as if it was actually each of the other people involved:

Margaret Astor, the first person we meet, and also the one APPARENTLY holding all the cards when they walk into the final deal, who ends up backstabbed (well shot in the back anyway, close enough) by her own assistant

she sent them to Greenstreet, who introduced the term “chicanery” to the narrative, which I’m gonna focus on next, because despite all his plotting, his narrative didn’t end the way he wanted (he’s getting hauled off to jail, but heck, at least he didn’t end up dead like most of the rest of these conspirators...)

Greenstreet sent them to Scarpatti, with the partially true information that he’d been the one to have the artifact stolen in the first place, only to learn that it had been stolen from his man in turn...

(and remember, the skull isn’t actually what Sam and Dean need... it’s the currency they believed they needed in order to trade for what they DO actually need... it’s a bit of a chicane... which I’ll get to... sorry for this meandering on the way to the conclusion, but this little side journey is 100% relevant... you’ll see what I mean in a minute)

While investigating Scarpatti’s side-detour, they end up having to investigate a murder, and inadvertently stumble over Father Lucca Camilleri... but Sam and Dean have no idea that they’re now traveling through this episode with the thing THEY actually need. But rather than just... take what they need because that fact hasn’t been revealed to them yet, or even continue to pursue the currency they believe they need to trade for the elusive thing they need, they selflessly choose to do the morally right thing despite believing that in doing so they are forfeiting their chance to get the macguffin they need.

Ain’t it just Winchesters vs The Cosmos on a microscopic level?

Because one thing I’ve learned about Dabb as showrunner is that his absolute favorite thing is gleefully pointing back at canon and explicitly clarifying things. It’s not always obvious, he tends to be incredibly subtle, but if you’re looking for it, it’s impossible not to see in pretty much all of his writing. He LOVES messing with prior perception, and making us work for the satisfying moment where all the pieces fall into place.

Chicanery and the chicane. THAT ITSELF IS A CLARIFICATION. From vague to specific. Because “a chicane” is a very different thing than “chicanery.” And it’s all a bit of a winding deception.

For reference, the definitions of these two very different words:

chi·can·er·y /SHəˈkān(ə)rē/ noun, the use of trickery to achieve a political, financial, or legal purpose. "an underhanded person who schemes corruption and political chicanery behind closed doors" synonyms: trickery, deception, deceit, deceitfulness, duplicity, dishonesty, unscrupulousness, underhandedness, subterfuge, fraud, fraudulence, legerdemain, sophistry, sharp practice, skulduggery, swindling, cheating, duping, hoodwinking

and

chicane (/ʃɪˈkeɪn/) noun, a serpentine curve in a road, added by design rather than dictated by geography. Chicanes add extra turns and are used both in motor racing and on roads and streets to slow traffic for safety.

What the definition of “chicane” doesn’t provide is that in auto racing, a chicane isn’t seen as a “safety” measure, but an obstacle. If you’ve ever watched road racing, the chicane is where a lot of drivers wipe out. It’s a choke point where everyone HAS to slow down, but when you’re RACING each other, the objective is to remain out in front, you know? Jockeying for position, trying to get through the obstacle as quickly as possible to get back to direct racing toward the finish line. So while a chicane literally slows the racing by design, forcing drivers to adapt to the physical reality of safely navigate through the pinch point while not wrecking themselves, they need to maintain absolute focus to retain their position, as well. It’s not about slowing down for safety but about finding the balance point between “safely navigating through without wrecking myself or being wrecked by the other cars trying to achieve the same objective I am” and “but we’re still racing and I can’t let anyone pass me so I’m still gonna push it as fast as I can while still conforming to the laws of known physics.” It’s... difficult.

THREE TIMES in this episode, they use the word “chicanery” before Dean clarifies it to “chicane.” For reference, out of the other 306 episodes of this show that exist at the time of writing this post, they’ve used “chicanery” a grand total of ZERO other times. Seems significant, yes?

In the same way the show has frequently used Wizard Of Oz imagery to convey these same points, with the reminder in the end of the “you had the power inside you all along” sort of themes, this episode takes it one step further. Which... logical considering the nature of the spiral narrative, that when it comes around again, the circumstances aren’t exactly the same. Think of it in terms of that racetrack with the chicane.

In the case of the plot of this episode, a similar comparison can be drawn to The DaVinci Code, since through most of the wild goose chase running through all the games and puzzles, the guy is literally traveling with the object he seeks. It just doesn’t become obvious, like with Dorothy and her Ruby Slippers, until they’ve worked their way through all the puzzles and subterfuge along the way. As Dean says in Scoobynatural when Sam points out that if he knows how the episode ends, why don’t they just get to the point already, and Dean replies “Because sometimes it’s about the journey.” Rather intuitive meta observation about the point of the narrative structure, yes?

Back to our road race analogy now, after passing through the chicane chicane. Every lap, the drivers are driving through the same essential course. The shape of the road doesn’t change in the most fundamental way. The same parts are still paved, the walls around the edges don’t move, etc. But each time they drive around, other conditions vary. Their tires wear down so their traction changes. Heck, the drivers themselves are wearing out physically and mentally. Maybe a dude’s just thirsty or has an itch on his nose or just has to pee real bad. Maybe the wind speed or direction has changed. Maybe the sun has moved so different turns become more tricky with a glare in their eyes. Their engines are slowly shifting as wear and tear of operating at a high performance level alters performance. Their brakes might be wearing down. They may be in need of more fuel and are driving more conservatively, or may have just gotten new fuel or new tires or made some other alteration to their car that shifts not only their ability to go faster, but changes how they handle corners, etc. But there’s also the factor of all the OTHER cars driving around them. Maybe they’ve hit the chicane all by themselves because they’re out ahead of the pack (or trailing far behind it). Maybe they’re clustered tightly together with other drivers. Maybe there was a wreck that altered the road surface... cleaning up fuel/oil spills, sand or dirt having “spilled” out onto the road surface, maybe a slight drizzle started making it more slippery, or even random trash has blown from the stands into the road, or debris from a wreck-in-progress hampers their progress. There are SO MANY FACTORS at play that make each lap around the course an entirely different experience, you know?

Same with the spiral narrative. The major landmarks might be similar, but everything else is new.

And the moment Dean says “chicane this” and punches the author of this series of events in the face, that’s basically 14.20, yes?

They’re tired, and they’re on the last lap, and they’ve been through this chicane so many times now. And they’ve just been told that after every lap, Chuck refused to wave the checkered flag. They kept reaching the finish line over and over, only to discover it was also the starting line and the race was still going. And each time through Chuck’s big chicane, he’d deliberately change those variables, so the more experience they gained on the track, there’d always be a bit of new debris to navigate, a new difficulty level added.

And now in 14.20, it’s like they finally caught him in the act of throwing thumbtacks down on the road, you know? They caught him at his tricks.

And like, to use a favorite metaphor of Dabb’s, it’s like the roadrunner and the coyote. Only the roadrunner had always known all along that the coyote was laying traps for him and always found the most hilarious ways to foil the coyote’s plans and turn it back around on him. It took them 14 seasons for TFW to finally pull a roadrunner.

This has always been Dabb’s ending, because it’s actually the story he has been telling all along. The spiral’s broken, and instead of continuing lap after lap with no end in sight, they’ve finally realized they can just... stop driving in carefully paved loops and drive in a direct line to the finish.

(and maybe the only way to make it to the finish is to pave their own road around all of Chuck’s chicanery... it’s gonna be some heavy lifting and some rough off-roading, but it’s the only way to get off the track to victory lane)

(apologies, this is the sort of place my brain goes when Mr. Mittens is watching nascar at Road America in the background... but it’s super apt, and full disclosure, I started writing this about an hour before he turned the tv on. I was already on this road course >.>)

#spn 13.15 #spn 14.20 #dabb vs cars #LOL I SWEAR THAT HAS ALWAYS BEEN MY DABB TAG >.>#it's spirals all the way down #the scheherazade of supernatural #this is so meta it's actually hurting my brain and i need to go lie down now #s14 hellatus rewatch #if you say 'mysterious ways' so help me i will kick your ass #welcome to the final lap please buckle up we're gonna be cutting through the grass now #spiders georg of the tnt loop

33 notes · View notes

dearreaderbisexual · 5 years ago

Text

Dear Tumblr

This post probably isn't going to get any traction; hell, I have zero followers. I mean, who knows if I’ll even end up posting this entry in the first place. Nevertheless, here it is:

I am bisexual.

Ever since I was young, I’ve always been intrigued by girls. *insert stereotypical locker room staring, consciously looking away at my friends in pools, admiring other girls beauty, etc* When me and my friends spent our sleepovers texting on Omegle (naive idea), I always urged to search out other girls. Or, in second grade, when my friend shared an “adult website” with me ( that her older, male cousin showed her which is - alarming ), I kept wanting to go back to the videos with just girls. But, I never thought much of it. Anyways, I like guys. This lust for other girls is something every straight girl feels, right? RIGHT?

As I grew older, this attraction grew even stronger, to something I couldn’t quite resist, no matter how hard I tried. Actually, I vividly remember the first time I linked my “admiration” of fellow women to sexual attraction, and, more importantly, that sexual attraction to myself. When I was in fifth ( ish ?? ) grade, I became aware of the word bisexual, and, one night, out of the blue I thought to myself, “What if I was bisexual?” Something about that just felt right. However, me being the naive, young child that I was, I quickly snapped out of it and pushed it to the back of my brain so it could be repressed for another few years.

My serious questioning of my sexuality began around eighth grade. As a few of my friends began confessing their feelings (of the gay type), and I made new friends that were openly LGBTQ+, I began to deeply analyze the feeling that were buried deep inside. Now, it’s too late at night and I’m too lazy to thoroughly recount my questioning process right at this moment, but after about one and a half years I have concluded with this: I am pretty sure I like girls. However, there is one problem: I have never kissed anyone, not a boy or a girl.

Now I’ve heard all that bullshit of “If you know you know” or “If your questioning your probably gay” and I believe it, but, deep down, I feel like I can’t be sure until I actually “do it.” That sounds like some biphobic bullshit that people tell you when you come out along with the phrase “It’s just a phase.”

“It’s just a phase” has a strong hold on me. Those four words are a huge part of why I’m so scared to come out because, if I do end up being straight ( which is some hella internalized homophobia ) I don’t want to feed into the stereotype. I don’t want to make it harder for future bisexual individuals to come out and be faced with that hateful phrase ( of course sexuality is fluid and if you go through phases you are completely valid it’s just that I feel unnecessary shame in it for myself ). All I want is to feel validated enough in my own emotions and sexuality to share that part of myself with my friends and family.

Two years from beginning to question my sexuality to now has taken its toll on me. I feel isolated from my loved ones and get anxious when the topic of dating ever comes up. The worst part is that I have no one to talk to. The closest I’ve come to “coming out” is: in eighth grade I got a diary, and, when my mom questioned me about it, I broke down crying, to which responded with asking if I was gay. I told her I thought I might be bisexual. Her and my father thought I might have confused by media ( I had seen Love, Simon a few weeks prior). About a week or so later, when they questioned me about the incident, I said I was “feeling extremely heterosexual.” They still think I’m straight.

Next, a not-so-emotional story. When I was at overnight camp, we had a night where addicts came and told us their stories and what not ( sounds dramatic, but it’s actually a very fun camp that I will be returning to in a few days ). At the end of the night, we did an activity where we wrote our insecurities and the counselors read them out loud. When my friend asked me what I wrote, I had a brief pause before confessing “I think I’m bi.” Her “Ok” and hug made me feel like a small relief. I was still carrying a lot of self loathing and denial, but at least I had a bit of a release.

Finally, my most recent anecdote: now a freshman in high school, I was making new friends, including two queer girls I met while working on the spring musical. Let’s call them A and B. A would always tell me I gave her “gay vibes” to which I always laughed and brushed it off. But, one night we were sitting in a circle talking when B said “So I’m bi, *pointing to A* your a lesbian, and your straight.” A says “You know ____, I think you might be kinda gay.” *insert gay panic and a very long pause* “Yeah, I think I’m bi.” For the last few days of that show we talked about girls and sexuality, which made me feel very free. However, it’s always been I think, not I am.

But now, I think I’m ready. I think I’m ready to say, “I am bisexual.” In a couple days, I want to tell my friend ( the girl from the camp story ). We’ll see if I chicken out, but I want to come out. I need to come out.

I don’t know who will see this or even read this lengthy mess of an entry, but thank you. Thank you for allowing me to get out something that I’ve been hiding for so long. Thank you for hearing me say, “I am bisexual.”

#wlw #wlw advice #wlw positivity #closeted #in the closet #bisexual #gay #lesbian #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq community #wlw aesthetic #mlm #tumblr #diary #long post #gaylove

2 notes · View notes

vorthosjay · 7 years ago

Text

GDS 3 Essay Response

In case anyone was interested, I entered the GDS. Since others seem to be posting their essays, I figured I might as well too.

If you made last night’s deadline, good luck!

1. Introduce yourself and explain why you are a good fit for this internship.

My name is Jay Annelli. I work in Emergency Management [Note, I’ve redacted more info about myself here]. As part of my job, I’m expected to deal with unexpected events at any given time and develop creative solutions to problems under severe time and financial constraints. This usually means working collaboratively in cross-cutting teams to create the best possible outcome, whether it’s a plan, a process, or the response to an event. I strongly value collaborative working environments and the pit sounds like exactly the kind of place I would thrive.

Because of my work in Emergency Management, I work well in stressful environments and roll pretty easily with sudden shifts in priorities. For instance, last year I was given five weeks to move our entire 30,000 square foot warehouse operation, a project that should have had months to plan instead had weeks. I’m used to projects being suddenly cancelled or having to re-work them from the ground up based on new directives with little time. But those same experiences have given me the skills to sell projects to senior leadership, and with government work I know how to slowly get traction for an idea while completing competing priorities.

I’ve always been a jack-of-all-trades, and thrive in positions where I have a lot of different kinds of tasks to complete. I’ve got experience in everything from legislative analysis to warehouse logistics. And I love Magic, and have turned my hobby – passion about the lore – into a paying freelance gig. The reality is I’m not going to be the best designer ever, but you don’t need great designers because you’re not working in a vacuum, you need people who can come together and make great design teams. I’m an experienced leader and manager and work well in team environments where I can complement my teammate’s skills. More so, I recognize the process through which work gets completed is often more important than the skills of the individuals performing the work. R&D has gone through some fairly major organization shake-ups lately, and it would be my hope to help continue to improve processes.

2. An evergreen mechanic is a keyword mechanic that shows up in (almost) every set. If you had to make an existing keyword mechanic evergreen, which one would you choose and why?

Storm! Because NOTHING could possibly go wrong with that idea…

In all seriousness, Dash is such a quintessentially red mechanic that I’d like to see it appear more often. There aren’t a whole lot of current mechanics that would make good evergreen mechanics, but cards like Ball Lightning and its kin were a staple of Magic for years. Red is all about short-term thinking and temporary gains, or making moves before the outcome is determined. While Impulse Draw has been a great way to try and overcome Red’s weaknesses, there’s still pretty clearly more work that can be done. Giving Red access to low cost but temporary creature spells really plays into the same flavor for red. It also gives the player a choice when combined with Red’s traditional looting. Do you cast the creature permanently at a slightly overcosted mana cost? Or do you keep it in hand and for fuel for your later game looting effects, like Cathartic Reunion?

Existing Dash cards focused on the ability to have surprise cheap attackers, with one or two covering Enter the Battlefield effects. What I think would be interesting are abilities that punish or reward the use of Dash versus hard casting. For example, if a Dash dealt damage to its owner when it returned to its owner’s hand, or included a more powerful “at the beginning of your upkeep” ability if the player manages to hard cast it. I would argue that it could be pushed into more colors than Red and Black, as long as the abilities involved were representative of the colors.

3. If you had to remove evergreen status from a keyword mechanic that is currently evergreen, which one would you remove and why?

Defender! I’m actually surprised that defender is still around after all of these years, as it’s by far the least useful keyword ability. Now, the idea itself is fine, but with ‘unblockable’ no longer a keyword, it doesn’t make sense to me that its counterpart hasn’t been similarly de-keyworded. One of the biggest problems I see with it is that the game places all sorts of conditional “this creature can’t attack” restrictions on cards, but none of them use defender. For instance, why wouldn’t River Serpent have defender, when for all intents and purposes it has conditional Defender? Magic doesn’t keyword “can’t block”, either. Defender has gotten a little bit of “Defender tribal” in some sets, but I’m not sure there are any cases where the use of ‘Defender’ is advantageous over simply saying the creature can’t attack. There are a handful of cards that care about creatures with defender, but a switch in the wording might make them even more useful, if you concentrate on creatures who can’t attack.

Besides the templating issues I mentioned, I just don’t think the keyword is needed to accomplish the intended effect most of the time. Most of the time creatures with defender seem to just be intended to be solid blockers, and the circumstance in which someone is going to be attacking with a creature that has zero power are rare enough that I’m not sure why Kinjalli’s Caller can get away without defender but a Pride Guardian needs it. In some case, creatures with defender have evasion and there might be an issue with abilities that can actually give them power, but in those cases simply giving them the ability to block the evasion (like if Wall of Air had reach instead of flying) removes most of their attacking potential, anyway. And in those few cases where an aggressively costed creature is necessary, “This creature can’t attack” doesn’t take up much more card space than “Defender”, which usually gets its own line on the template anyway.

4. You're going to teach Magic to a stranger. What's your strategy to have the best possible outcome?

If I had an optimal environment, I would stack two decks that allowed the game play out in a mostly scripted fashion, slowly introducing concepts over the course of a game, with the game playing out in favor of the person I was teaching. I would start with the pre-game basics: explain the library and graveyard, and have us both drawn seven cards, keeping our hands revealed. I would explain the most important parts of a card: the artwork and flavor text. Wait. I want them to have the best outcome… so instead I might explain casting costs and card types. The new player’s expectation is ‘What do I do?’, so I show them the land, and how tapping the lands allows you to pay for the other cards. Ideally I’d have one-drop that the new player could cast to feel some satisfaction on their first turn. This would go back and forth, with each turn explaining a new card type.

If I’m being honest, I’m stealing this from the 7th Edition tutorial, which had you play a scripted game out against the computer while learning each part of the game. The Duels of the Planeswalkers games fulfilled a similar function, and I’m the living embodiment of that Onion joke about someone explaining the rules to a game and insisting it will be fun. So if I REALLY wanted the best possible outcome, I’d get hired by Wizards of the Coast and sketch out a plan for a contemporary update of that 7th Edition Tutorial, maybe even a short web game, which I believe also existed once, so that there’s a consistent learning environment available so people don’t have to rely on potentially not-great teachers to know the game.

5. What is Magic's greatest strength and why?

Magic’s greatest strength is its versatility. It’s amazing that there are over a half-dozen ways to play and that there’s a huge Magic fandom that’s all over the map when it comes to gameplay. The framework on which the game was build is so adaptable that I was seriously playing kitchen table magic for years before I even learned there were more formats than just casual. Most of those more competitive formats just don’t appeal to me (although I recognize their value and find them interesting). Other major competitors, like Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh, or Hearthstone, just don’t have that. Their frameworks, in some way or another, pidgeon hole them into specific playstyles. As much as Magic’s extensive rules cause me consternation, I know they’re the building block that makes everything else work. Whereas in Magic it just means an idea needs some creative problem solving to come to fruition, other games don’t have that extensive framework and thus don’t provide players with the same layers of choices.

Versatility allows choice, and choice is the key to a fun game. You want to allow enough that players can get creative. The same card can be used in entirely different ways even in the same format. It’s something that’s always fascinated me about the competitive scene. And then between formats, the card has entirely different value. I wish this answer felt like more just vomiting back things I’ve read on the Mothership for the last decade or so, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

6. What is Magic's greatest weakness and why?

Magic’s greatest weakness is its complexity. In the last answer I talked about how the rules are an extensive framework from which a lot of different games are built, but they can also be a huge barrier to entry. Complexity is a good thing, but Magic sometimes has far too much complexity for its own good. Even learning how to parse the Magic jargon is a challenge. In my career in Emergency Management, one of the major tenets of Incident Command is to avoid acronyms and jargon, because they’re hugely cultural and often feel like learning an entirely new language.

That’s not just limited to how people and players talk about the game, but how the game talks about itself. Keyword abilities are probably the most difficult. There are dozens of evergreen keywords alone, from activate to vigilance, that a new player needs to learn as a baseline before they can even start to parse deciduous mechanics, and then set-specific mechanics. Most Magic players who engage online have long forgotten what a barrier that is, which of course creates a disconnect between new and established players. And Magic players aren’t always the most patient, so when you sit a newby who still has to ask basic questions all the time, a single negative player is going to hurt their interest level.

Most of Magic’s players aren’t engaged online or at tournaments. They play at home like I used to do, and they buy packs from sets that look cool. I had no idea Kamigawa wasn’t a resounding success until I actively engaged online. To me, it was the cool plane of Samurai. When they open a pack and it has abilities with no reminder text, that’s a distraction from the game. Stopping to look something up online costs time and goodwill, which inevitable costs players.

7. What Magic mechanic most deserves a second chance (aka which had the worst first introduction compared to its potential)?

Level Up honestly has a special place in my heart, and I can’t help but feel that there’s a whole lot of space left untapped there. I think too many of the Level Up cards didn’t make each level feel important, and I think Monstrosity stole a little bit of its thunder. One of my biggest issue with it is that each level didn’t feel like a tangible benefit. I would probably change it look more like a Monstrosity variant, a place to sink larger amounts of mana to get a progressively more impressive creature. This would especially be useful as Monstrosity has some major flavor limitations. The template seemed to have been Figure of Destiny, but I don’t think any of the existing Level Up cards capture that quite in the same way as Warden of the First Tree. Warden of the First Tree could easily have a Level Up cost of {1}{w/b} and be a very similar card (although not exactly the same).

Sets like Ixalan that need some low cmc mana sinks could instead use a mechanic like Level Up. The original flavor was meant as a nod to Zendikar’s Dungeons and Dragons “Adventure World” theme, but it could easily be expanded beyond that. There seems to be design space, like with Monstrosity, to the actual ‘Leveling Up’ process. None of the current crop use one time effects upon reach certain levels, and that seems like a great way to make each level interesting for commons and uncommons with the mechanic without them all being Warden of the First Tree levels of power or complexity.

8. Of all the Magic expansions that you've played with, pick your favorite and then explain the biggest problem with it.

I would pick Return to Ravnica, although the biggest problem is the same as the original Ravnica block. With the ten guilds, the blocks tried to do too much, and failed to make all ten guild mechanics equally satisfying. There’s a lot of nostalgic love for those sets, but honestly I think the new set paradigm is going to be far better for any future Ravnica blocks. There just aren’t ten equally interesting mechanics to go around, and at least three of the guilds felt weak because of it. Return’s biggest problem is that it introduced new mechanics when it didn’t really need to, or used mechanics with limited design space to replace mechanics with equally limited space. Not every guild needs a keyword mechanic to be engaging, and in fact I would say most don’t, especially the guilds more focused on creatures, like Boros or Gruul, that could get by with some interesting effects on various cards but whose most interesting cards rarely seem to use their mechanic - or don’t need it to be a keyword mechanic.

Conservation of space is obviously going to be an issue as we start returning to planes like Ravnica a third, fourth, or even fifth time. You can’t burn through ideas at the rate that Ravnica has been if you’re going to still have something interesting for future returns. Ravnica is a lot of fun and a very satisfying place to set a product, but I think re-using other well liked mechanics rather than constantly trying to come up with new ones will by far serve design better.

9. Of all the Magic expansions that you've played with, pick your least favorite and then explain the best part about it.

Born of the Gods I would have to say is at least one of my least favorite sets, although it’s hard to say the definitive least favorite. Heroic and Inspired are two of my least favorite mechanics ever. But I really love the world of Theros and I think from a flavor standpoint, and the use of Bestow in Born of the Gods was stellar. It showed what the evolution of a mechanic in a second set should be, with cards like Eidolon of Countless Battles being particularly potent as both a creature and an aura. Most of the Bestow cards in Born of the Gods are simple designs that take advantage of the premise to create solid effects that work both as creatures and auras. The best designs don’t need to be fancy, they just need to make the most of a mechanic.

But the real reason I picked Bestow is because of Chromanticore, which to me exemplifies what makes Magic fun. Sure, there are more competitive cards out there, but for the casual player nothing captures the imagination more than a card like Chromanticore. Chromanticore is a big, splashy creature that demands you build around it. It has a soup of abilities that would make it appealing as a creature on it’s own, but the chance to cast it as an aura is incredibly tempting. Every set needs a card like Chromanticore that’s shiny for the casual crowd and may even entice a few more competitive players to build around it.

10. You have the ability to change any one thing about Magic. What do you change and why?

Mark Rosewater’s “Sorceries with Flash” instead of Instants really appeals to me, but I suppose he’s written about that so much that I would again just be regurgitating things I’ve read about the game online. So let’s expand on this in a way I’m not sure I’ve seen before, and talk about how to reorganize how things are typed. Supertypes always seem like a waste to me. Legendary Artifact Creatures or Legendary Enchantment Creatures usually mean the the sub-type (aka the good stuff, if you’re like me) can only support one type, maybe two if both are very short words. I’m not sure there’s really a good reason that can’t be represented some other way, either in a different frame (Legends are supposed to be different and special, after all) or with some other kind of symbolism on the card.

The sorceries with flash idea sounds really good on paper, but we get back into the issue of jargon, and another word new players have to learn. I would instead make Instant a subtype of Sorcery, opening up a few new avenues. You could also have ‘interrupt’ sorceries, that can only be cast in response to something. That’s an element of the game that was streamlined for good reason, but could open up some new design possibilities. I like otherwise how Enchantments are handled these days, so it’s really reworking supertypes and sorceries that I would change if I could change how types work. The legends issue has implications for tribal decks, so I think that’s what I would focus on, as it seems the most achievable.

26 notes · View notes

lilpootworldtour · 4 years ago

Photo

Saturday 11/21/2020 Roswell, NM - Las Cruces, NM

First we woke up. We were very excited because we had left over dominos. I do not know if we ate any because we ate too much the night before, but we had lava cakes. Boy oh boy, it was yummy. Okay, so then, first stop on our trip out of Roswell. Donuts. We had donuts. Roswell donuts. We got one Bear Claw, One Apple Fritter, One Chocolate, One Chocolate Glaze with sprinkles. The Bear Claw was on recommendation from the worker bee, all very good, Bear claw was clear winner, glad she recommended it. Yeast based donut: not quite as good as Krispy Kreme, but still top tier. Second stop was hotly debated, we definitely wanted coffee but did not know where from. Based purely off of yelp reviews, positive yelp reviews I might add, and niche appeal, we decided to go to Perk ’N Jerk coffee and Jerkey emporium. When we got there, oh boy did we realize we were in for an experience. There was not a soul around except for a 90’s ford station wagon in the condition you’d expect parked right in front of the front door. Naturally, you would think it was a customer, but when we walked up and didn’t see anyone inside, we realized the owner was the type of person who owns a business and parks in the closest parking spot either not expecting anyone to come so no need to leave it open or he wants to claim it first, who knows. He welcomed us in and asked us what we wanted, we responded with “A Perk and Jerk please.” His flavor board had two sides to it. We were confused and thought that only one side was jerky, so we only ordered salt and pepper jerky. We asked if he had any other jerkies, maybe something hot, and he said, “The board has two sides to it, the other side is spicy.” So we also got red pepper, which was literally just red pepper flakes on jerky. After receiving our order, he went to retrieve the jerk. He went into the back and brought large Tupperware storage containers out and placed them on the table in the middle of the room. He then grabbed a box of quart sized zip locks, a zip lock full of labels, and a sharpie. He straighten up a food scale that was on the table and zeroed it. When he opened the first Tupperware, we were able to see a sea of jerky which he grabbed a hand full of and placed on the scale. After getting the desired weight by adding and removing tears of meat, he sealed the bag, slapped a label on, and scribbled the date. He did the same with the second jerky. After getting the jerky bagged and tagged, he asked if we were interested in any coffee. Upon entering, we both felt that we did not want to buy any coffee from the joint, but when asked point blank, we panicked! Hannah got an iced coffee and I got a hot coffee. He asked us about our trip plans while preparing our coffee and we told him our next stop was White Sands. He muttered something under his breath that made us feel like he didn’t think too highly of our trip and began giving us a few suggestions of his own. One being to go to an Airplane museum that had a legitimate plane of a certain, very specific model. I asked about the plane, to get a better idea of what to visualize, and he must of thought I wasn’t worth anymore of his time because he replied with a change of subject. He handed us our coffee, we paid, and we were on our way. While we were waiting for our coffee and Jerky, we took in the ambiance he made by putting up pictures of army things and his “Will return soon” signs. You can see these arts in the photos. After leaving Perk and Jerk we got on the road heading west on the way to White Sands National Park. Starting some point around Wyoming, during our last trip, as we drove through the rolling west of open land, I couldn’t help but imagine myself riding along beside the camper in cowboy boots, wranglers, very cool cowboy style shirt, bandana/bolo, and cowboy hat - full gallop on the back of a stallion I broke all on my lonesome and consider to be my best pardner. By the time we were west of Wyoming I knew if I saw a nice pair of cowboy boots or cowboy hat I was going to buy them regardless of any practicality post trip. I never found the little genuine cowboy store I was expecting in any of the one stop sign towns we drove through via country back roads so I just kept hoping and looking and as we spent time back in Wilmington with Lil Poot in the shop those desires kept floating further and further to the back of my mind. Those thoughts and desires, though, never fully disappeared, and when we made It to Texas they rushed back into my heart like a tornado and I couldn’t drive for being blinded by a flurry of images of me riding horses, roping cattle, riding full gallop chasing bandits with a six shooter in each hand one firing straight to my chase and one firing behind me at my chaser. I must have blacked out or passed out or just plain fell asleep, for I woke up to Hannah shaking me saying “David! Wake up!” I snapped out of the most realistic reality where I was defending a train car from a robbery with TNT exploding all around me, and worse, exploded the on coming bridge. We only had 15 seconds to get all 250 passengers off the train before we were all taking the express elevator down the 700’ cliff and, I am sorry, but no stops between or getting off, this is the express elevator. Right as the engine started to drop and the wheels of the last train car left the tracks, only a dozen passengers managed to jump off the train prior, their fate unknown. I started calming the people in my car telling them we were on our way to Dairy Queen and everyone is going to get a free Sundae, knowing full well I didn’t have enough gold and silver for five sundaes. My eyes opened and I saw Hannah for the first time in what felt like years. I started to smile as Hannah pointed to her right, which led my gaze to the on coming tractor trailer who must have gotten in my lane after I fell asleep and became a sheriff. I soon realized I had drifted in to their lane so I perked up and jerked the wheel to the right making all six wheels squeal and smoke till we were over the double yellows and I was yanking the wheel to the left in hope of correction, locking the e- brake, down shifting, sliding back, gassing it, gaining traction, and we were back on track, in the right lane, going 50. After being on the road for an hour or two post Perk and Jerk Hannah spotted a store called Frank English’s Custom Boots and we both knew we had to pull in! We pulled back hard on Lil Poot’s reins, then to the right, guiding the good steed to Frank English’s hitching post. After putting Poot in park, we found our masks, wallets, sense of direction, and headed inside. During the short walk from the camper to the door, I imagined all sorts of awesome boots we were soon to see and how difficult it will be to choose just one pair to buy leading us both to walk out of the store cash poor and boot rich. After entering, as soon as our eyes adjusted to the light, we saw that we were not in the boot emporium we expected and that we allowed our desires to lead us astray once again. Frank English politely put down the boot he was working on and asked how he could help. I sheepishly explained how we were expecting an emporium of ready made boots and how I have been dreaming of being a cowboy recently with Hannah supporting me through the whole confession. Frank took it easy and told us we could go up the street to a store that sold lame boots and we were almost out the door when he asked us to halt and listen to what we should look for when buying boots. He then captivated us for an hour using a spare boot as a prop, pointing to various parts and explaining what to look for in a good boot. He then put the boot down, with a loving last look and feel, turned his attention to us, and asked about who we were and where in the world we were coming from. We obliged, telling how we left New York during the pandemic, headed down to NC to live in our parent’s abodes before buying an RV and hitting the road. He cut in a few times with his own stories of living in NYC, moving around, and suggestions for us as we head west. One of those suggestion being Silver City NM where he used to live and where there is a neat coffee shop in the arts district called Tranquil Buzz owned by Dale. With heavy hearts we said our good byes and tootalous, headed back to Lil Poot, who was shuffling his tires in the dirt and humming rock ballads, loaded up, and got back on the road. As we continued on towards White Sands, we looked at each other and decided we should have bought boots from Frank. With this decision we talked about turning around, but decided on looking him up instead, maybe we could talk about the buying process first. Hannah found an article on him and read aloud, boy, Frank is COOL. I will include the article somewhere in this post. After learning about Frank, and driving some more, we made it to White Sands National Park. We took a right off the highway, like everyone else coming from the east, headed down the one road weaving between the white dunes. We saw the road turned from asphalt to salt, the main component of these dunes, so we pulled off at the pull off just before the change. From there, we got out to stretch our legs, decided to return tomorrow and bike down the gypsum salt road but enjoy the short boardwalk here since the sun will be setting soon. We walked along the board walk reading the info signs as we went, learning about the mice and lizards that adapted to live in the dunes as well as the insane life story this once lake told scientists of how the world used to be and how it was once a youthful, fun body of water looking for a good time, not worried about all its salt flying around. After returning to Lil Poot, this time he was hunched over in the corner of the parking lot with his back to the sun, head shadowing his gameboy trying his hardest to beat Misty with out taking the proper amount of time to train his Pokemon, got inside and headed west to our BLM land campsite near Las Cruces. After finding our camp site and getting the camper ready for parked mode, we hung Christmas lights below the cabinets and around the ceiling while listening to Christmas music. After playing with the lights some, they have different modes, one of which reacts to music, we settle on leaving the colored lights, under the cabinets, on solid and let the white lights, our crown molding, dance to the music. Hannah started boiling hot water for Hot Toddies and David probably looked at his instagram feed, soon both were drinking hot toddies and crafting.

https://www.taosnews.com/opinion/columns/know-your-neighbor-frank-english/article_e50ba70e-48ce-5371-91f1-7a1c7cc19e14.html

#lilpoot #lascruces #whitesands #frankenglish #perknjerk #pizzaomlette #newmexico

0 notes