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madelong · 2 years

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Navy fighter pilot

#Navy fighter pilot movie

Pedersen’s book Topgun: An American Story (Hachette Books) is available for sale and signing. His Navy Fighter Weapons School was credited with producing skilled pilots who raised the air combat kill ratio from two Vietnamese planes downed for every American plane lost to more than 22-to-1.Īhead of the famed school’s 50th anniversary, Pedersen offers a first-hand account of the program, tell the inside story of its development, and examines how its training provided American flyers with the know-how to dominate air combat from Miramar to Area 51. To become a Naval or Marine Corps Aviator, you must be between the ages of 19 and 26 at the time you enter flight training. Rew Killer Given to a Marine F-4 RIO that locked up on the wrong target during an east coast missile shot. Learn what it takes to become a Navy fighter pilot. To do so, he picked eight of the finest pilots to help train a new generation to fly jets like the F-4 Phantom and learn techniques for a new kind of dogfighting. Jugs First female tacair pilot at Miramar ’nuff said Key Instructor pilot that starts every lesson with, The Key is. Navy Fighter Pilot, youll join one of the most innovative and high-tech aircraft in the world. But more than that, he’s one of the sweetest most thoughtful guys I’ve met. Pedersen, who with his signature Ray-Ban sunglasses was the Hollywood image of a fighter pilot, was charged with a mission to determine the weapons systems and tactics that would reclaim the force of American air power in Vietnam. The first time we hung out, Wingnut showed me footage of bombs he’d dropped on an ISIS mortar team that was shelling fleeing women and children from a village. Its leaders turned to a young lieutenant commander, Dan Pedersen, to devise a way to reverse the casualties-and his solution later earned him the nickname “the godfather of Topgun.” Navy undertook a wholesale reevaluation of American military strategy. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.In 1968, when American fighter jets in Vietnam were being downed at an unprecedented rate during Operation Rolling Thunder, the U.S. Dale Snodgrass ( July 24, 2021) was a United States Navy aviator and air show performer who according to the Spokane Spokesman-Review was considered one of the greatest fighter pilots of all time. Former Navy fighter pilot Ryan Graves speaks to reporters after a House Intelligence subcommittee hearing on UFOs, officially called unidentified aerial phenomena (UAP), on May 17, 2022. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by an NPR contractor. Visit our website terms of use and permissions pages at for further information. 3) Age You must be at least 19 years old and must not be older than 32 years old upon commissioning. 2) Gender The Navy Pilot program is open for both men and women. Aerial maneuvers in a MH-60 Romeo or MH-60 Sierra helicopter require hours of training, versatile skills and a little bit. Hover over the sea for search and rescue, extract Sailors and Special Forces from a hot landing zone or track and neutralize enemy submarines in the defense of your ship. 1) Citizenship You must be a United States citizen either by birth or naturalization. Ryan Graves is a former Navy fighter pilot that has worked on advanced researchers and development programs for DARPA, the Office of Naval Research, and Airforce Research Labs - specializing. As a Helicopter Pilot, the sky is your domain. You will gather intel, drop ordnance and conduct defensive missionsall in the most versatile strike fighters on the planet. Catapult off carriers at 170 mph and land on moving runways only 300 feet long. Fly at Mach speeds around the globe while completing complex air maneuvers. It's MORNING EDITION.Ĭopyright © 2020 NPR. The list of application criteria for Navy Pilot below is current as of May 2022. As a Navy Fighter Pilot, the latter is your domain. When that happens, someone surely tells the trainee, your ego is writing checks your body can't cash.

#Navy fighter pilot movie

GREENE: But a retired instructor from the elite Navy fighter pilot program tells Business Insider that using that or any other quote from the movie brings a fine of $5. Navy, Carey Lohrenz is used to working in fast moving, dynamic environments where inconsistent. TOM CRUISE: (As Maverick) I feel the need - the need for speed.ĪNTHONY EDWARDS: (As Goose). As the first female F-14 Tomcat Fighter Pilot in the U.S. To do this job well, you’ll need critical thinking skills, unshakeable determination and the will to persevere through the toughest challenges. You’ll be part of an elite group of aviators who fly and fight in the world’s most lethal jetsall from the deck of an aircraft carrier. No surprise many actual TOPGUN trainees are fans of the Tom Cruise classic. As a Navy Fighter Pilot, the sky is your domain. (SOUNDBITE OF KENNY LOGGINS SONG, "DANGER ZONE")

#Navy fighter pilot

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filosofablogger · 2 years

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A Conservative Worth Listening To

In his speech a couple of weeks ago, President Biden made it a point to note the difference between the “maga-Republicans” and the more moderate, mainstream Republicans. It often seems that the latter group are scarce, at best, but they are out there … the ones that are sickened and disgusted by the former guy, the ones who see the maga-cult as a very real threat to this nation, to democracy, to…

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#cultural warfare #David Brooks #maga-Republicans #strategies to neutralize the former guy #the former guy #threat to democracy

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struggling-with-time · 3 years

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Show Off [Sapnap x reader]

Paring: Sapnap x Gender neutral!reader

Summary: Sapnap has a race he needs to focus on.

Warnings: Fluff, Racing!AU, Racer!Sapnap

Words: 1.4K

Masterlist: Sapnap’s Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: Thank you so much for 1900 followers! I can't believe I hit that milestone! Please request if you feel like it. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Request here.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sapnap pulls up to the start as the last person. A crowd already having gathered around the cars. Purposefully late, or as Wilbur would say fashionably late. The guy had a flair for the dramatics, but a madman behind the wheel. And happened to be an opponent of Sapnaps tonight.

Wilbur and Techno representing the Sleepy Bois, while the name indicated one thing, everyone knew better than to underestimate that team. They are managed by the former driving legend Philza Minecraft after all.

Sapnap, himself, is representing the Dream Team, alongside George for the night. He knows Dream is in the crowd. Despite the man's personal rival with Techno, Dream has chosen not to drive tonight. Sapnap knows it’s a powerplay because it means if they win tonight without their star driver, their entire team is stronger than the Sleepy Bois.

He throws open his door and is met with George immediately.

“Nice to see you finally join the rest of us.” George snorts his sunglasses reflecting Sapnap back at himself. While he was purposefully late, it wasn’t for a fashionable entrance. He had been a bit preoccupied with you on the backseat, and what can he say? He enjoys keeping a good rep with his partners.

“As if you don’t oversleep every other race you have to be at.” Sapnap shoots back, a teasing smile on his lips. And George’s frown breaks into a small smile. He reaches his hand out, and Sapnap gladly takes it.

He hoists himself up with the help of George. The two chatting for a bit until Dream walks over.

“Alright you know the game plan already, but just once more.” Sapnap half listens as Dream goes over the strategy one last time, as if the man hasn’t already drilled it into his drivers' heads all week. Sapnap instead uses the other half of his attention to scout for you in the crowd, he did drop you off on the outskirts of the racing ring.

He spots you entering the stands, he watches as you glide through the small audience there the stands have collected. His eyes following you as you head to the organisers' table. He watches as you strut around the table, leaning over it to talk to Eret. His gaze following your body, from your back to your ass, to your legs, and all the way up again.

And he’s the only one who sees, when you snatch the red scarfs from Eret.

Sapnap chuckles to himself but is brutally brought back to the conversation in front of him when Dream opens his mouth.

“What are you laughing about Sap? Do you find this funny?”

Sapnap rubs his neck.

“Sorry Dream. Just thought of something funny.”

“I sure hope it’s over now. Because I need you to be better than your best out there today.” Dream snaps at him. The man is clearly tense and frustrated, the race has a lot on the line. Mostly his reputation and pride, but anyone who has ever heard of the racing ring. Knows those two are very valuable things to have on the line.

“Racers get in your cars. The rest of you should clear the tracks.” Niki’s voice booms out through the outdated speaker system. While it is a racing ring, it’s an abandoned one, and there isn’t exactly anyone but them to keep it updated.

Dream gives his racers a curt nod, before heading off the track. Sapnap gives George a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. George reappropriates.

Neither guy is reassured.

It’s going to be a tough race.

The racers get into their cars, and Sapnap watches, as you carefully and pridefully stride onto the track. Purposefully running a hand over Sapnaps orange car. His eyes fixated on your fingers as they trace the hood of his car. Before you get in position.

Sapnap reeves his car.

He watches, studies, and pays attention with all his might. As you stand there on the track in all your glory, long legs exposed for anyone to see, dressed in his colours. Matching his car, and only his.

You lift one scarf.

Then the other.

Then you let both fall.

The cars zoom past you and onto the track.

While you aren’t driving yourself, you can feel your body buzz with adrenaline as they pass you.

You turn around to look after the cars, the orange one to be specific. But it’s too late, they have already turned the first corner, and all you can do now is hope for Sapnap as you listen for the sounds of his car.

You walk off the track, knowing that all eyes are on you now. The only entertainment to be seen and not just heard.

While you would love to give everyone a show right here. It’s best to just get off the track, and not make a disturbance.

You return to the organisers' table where Niki and Eret sits. Giving each a nod as you put the scarfs down on the table and take the empty seat beside Eret.

It’s three laps. Just three.

Yet it feels like an eternity and half has passed before the cars are driving the finish line for the first time, and going into the second lap. You can feel yourself sit on the edge of your seat as you watch them race past you. Screaming Sapnaps name so loud you feel like you will be able to exhaust his name of use.

Techno has taken the lead, which is to be expected, Sapnap is behind him, you have no clue if he’s gaining on Techno, or Techno has recently passed Sapnap.

Then it’s George and lastly Wilbur. But you don’t care about either of those. You have maybe spoken a total of 5 words to George, and even fewer to Wilbur.

You fall back in your seat, as all four of the drivers has passed and is once again thrown into the night to battle amongst themselves.

You are about to complain when you can start to hear the engines get closer.

This time when they pass by, Techno is still in the lead, but Sapnap is right behind him. Nearly rear-ending the pink-haired guy. You can feel your breath hitch at the thought of Sapnap crashing for everyone to see, and for no one to prevent.

You have no time to register how Wilbur and George are faring, while you hope for George to win, you know Wilbur is a far better driver. At least Sapnap told you that on your way here.

The night drags on as engines reevers out of sight. The night drags on as you find yourself stuck in your head about the thought of Sapnap crashing.

The night drags on. Until it doesn’t and you are standing this time. Now is the time that matters.

Now is the hour of judgement, and minute of execution.

Sapnap and Techno is neck and neck, seemingly having left Wilbur and George in the dirt. You find yourself leaning over the bannister wishing to be closer to the track to see who passes the finish line first.

Everyone else hoping for the same.

But nobody does. Nobody is close enough to see who was first.

A tie is called.

You find yourself sighing a breath of relief when Sapnap slows his car down and pulls over to the side, Techno mirroring him.

But the crowd is still rowdy.

Wilbur and George are now passing by. Unlike the first two, it’s clear which one of them passed the finish line first. Wilbur by more than a cars length.

You run down the stairs leading to the track, hurrying over to Sapnap.

You push past Dream as he goes to open the car door. You instead rip it open, and bends down to cradle his face, pushing him into a kiss right then and there to see for anyone who looks. And people do.

But you don’t care, because he’s safe, and that is all that matters.

The race results are meaningless to you. Your racer is alive.

Sapnap grins into the kiss, and you find yourself doing the same.

Despite both knowing Sapnap will be getting an earful from Dream. That’s a problem for future you and not present you.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

#Sapnap x reader #cc!sapnap x reader #c!sapnap x reader #racing au #racer!sapnap #sapnap dsmp #sapna choudhary #mcyt #mcyt x reader #c!sapnap x y/n #sapnap x y/n #sapnap x you #sapnap fanfic #gender neutral!reader #delias own writing

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officialtokyosan · 2 years

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the decepticons are much like functionism-lite it's just whatever you are still gets utilized in a system that is now megatron. what if i made an neutral, former decepticon oc who was built as a seeker but is a scientist, only wants to be a scientest, and hates flying? 😳

flyers were treated as second class citizens and their ability to fly was utilized by the government for transport and stuff. that sucks! you can fly, you are now government assigned delivery boy. it may seem like an upgrade to function as a flying warrior in decepticon military strategy but it's still that ability being used, just for a different purpose. there more to someone than their abilities they were born with!

dude hates flying, if you threw them off a cliff to force them to fly, they would take the fall. to this guy, to fly is to be used, to fly for another one's purpose. it's the exact oppositie of starscream who stopped being a scientist to be a warrior and Loves flying

#the question is does this character already exist #i think of thundercracker who wanted to make movies but idk about what he thinks about flying #ALSO THIS ISNT JETFIRE BECAUSE THE AUTOBOTS USE HIM TOO #HES LIKE LEAVE ME ALONE AND THEY WOKE HIM LIKE HEY WE NEED YOU TO TAKE US SOMEWHERE #also i want them to throw hands with starscream

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hopelesshawks · 4 years

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Physical Fatality Part 14- Back to Life

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warning for mentions of alcoholism

Masterlist Kofi

The morning after being fired was hard for you. You barely slept that night, thoughts ricocheting between how to convince All Might to let you stay on and what the hell you’re going to do if he won’t. Mina and Denki stayed with you the whole night. There was something comforting about their warm weight next to you and Denki’s snoring, but it wasn’t enough to completely fill the void that had grown at your core since All Might’s call the previous night. Eventually they had to leave you alone and you had fully intended to use that alone time to fill the void with liquor, only to discover your roommates had completely cleared your apartment of booze. When you’d opened the liquor cabinet you’d instead found it filled with various junk foods, a note taped to the front of the pile in Denki’s messy scrawl reading “You should eat your feelings head held high. You’re an amazing hero and you’ll figure it out!!”

In retrospect, going on a suicide mission to take down a terrorist cell all on your own with zero back up probably isn’t what Denki meant when he said “figure it out” but what can you say? Desperate times and all that right? At least that’s what you told yourself as you left something small for Bakugo and Midoriya on their desks. It’s not like you want to die, but you’re distinctly aware it’s a possibility and you don’t want your best friends blaming themselves. You manage to avoid most people as you’re going through the humiliating process of clearing out your desk but of course you manage to bump into your now former boss. You can feel your anger bubbling up but you press it down. You’re not ready to wake up that particular devil. In his defense he does at least have the decency to look contrite. “I really am sorry about all this,” he tells you and you have to take a deep breath before you answer to stop yourself from snapping. “You said I’m too much to handle. No one told you that was the case, that was your judgment call. I wanted so badly to be like you and now I’m tumbling down from trying so hard to reach your high. I’m not going to ask you to change your mind right now, but at least take responsibility for the choice,” you tell him. You walk away before he can react and take solace in the feeling of Bakugo’s work notes tucked safely into the pocket of your jacket.

The difficult part was finding a place to regroup and think through your game plan. Your apartment was a no go since Mina and Denki would want to talk you out of your plan. Anything too public was an obvious nonstarter as well. In the end you’d settled for rooftops. You could keep an eye out in case someone came looking for you but it also kept you out of view from casual, wandering eyes. It only took a little bit of scanning through Bakugo’s notes to realize you’d need the rest of the task force’s notes as well. The ones you had were great for planning a least-likely-to-end-in-death strategy once you breached the building but had nothing about the location of the villains or what kind of security you may be dealing with. It takes you a minute to think over how best to get access to the rest of the files but then you remember the cocktail party. Everyone would be busy. It would just be a matter of sneaking in, grabbing the notes, and getting out.

You mentally plot out and make your way down the safest rooftop route to Endeavor’s agency, already game planning. One key problem is your friends. It won’t be too long until they realize you’re missing and you can’t have them catching up to you. You’re sure the minute Denki and Mina return home they’ll report that they haven’t seen you to Bakugo. Then it’s only a matter of time before he reaches out to the others in hopes of finding you. You need a way to slow them down, that much at least is clear. It takes a little bit but eventually inspiration dawns on you as you recall Endeavor’s security system and protocols. By the time you’ve reached your destination you’ve got a fleshed out plan of action and waste no time setting it in motion.

You search the rooftop until you find the maintenance hatch then you carefully reach out into the lock with your quirk, feeling the pins and shifting until finally you get the click you’re looking for. You quickly feel around the open shaft with your quirk as well to make sure no additional security has been added since you’d last seen specs for the building and, finding nothing, you slide into the hatch and close the door behind you. From there you slip through the maintenance shaft and then drop down into a hallway. It’s entirely deserted, just as you knew it would be, with everyone too busy at the party downstairs to notice as you make your way over to Hawks and Todoroki’s desks. You quickly rummage through them until you identify what you need, grabbing the necessary files before going back the way you came and out onto the roof again. Once out you lean over the edge of the building and using your elbow and your quirk to reinforce it you smash the window closest to you before reaching out with your quirk to mess with the desks and make it look as if you had rummaged through the papers in a rush.

As the alarm blares and the building goes into lockdown you quickly escape to another rooftop and hide away, satisfied with your work. They’ll be doing a full sweep of the building, no one allowed to leave, convinced you’re inside. By the time they realize their mistake you’ll be long gone. You crack open the files you’ve just stolen and pour over them as quickly as you can, noting building layouts and locations as well as any additional information about the villains and their quirks. Once you’ve got it all committed to memory you fold the papers and shove them into your pockets as well. It doesn’t take you long to get to the rooftop of the villain hideout. It takes even less time for you to find a way inside through a ventilation shaft. As you drop down into the hallway, shocking a nearby guard who scrambles to stand up, you aren’t thinking about how dumb this is or your lack of back up or the fact you’re about to take on an entire villain group by yourself.

You think of the pain and the sadness and the frustration and the anger you’ve felt, not just since getting fired but every time the press or All Might or Endeavor or anyone else has tested you unfairly because of your past. For so long you have contained the hurt from years of injustices throughout your hero career for the sake of appearances. All of that frustration and pain that had driven you to drink. Now you are free of your chains.

Now you’ve woken the devil inside you up.

And you may not make it out of this encounter alive...

But for the first time in a long time you’ve fully come back to life.

Author’s Note: I had so much fun planning out (y/n)’s heist tbh. I believe in (y/n) supremacy, the boys played right into her hand and now she’s about to do some damage 🤩 we’re actually hitting the final stretch with this series now. After this there are just two (2!!!) more parts before it’s over which is wild to me. Thank you guys for sticking with it

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp @pokesosa @lildockel @bread0nhead @lavender-moon13

#hopelesspf #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n

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winterscaptain · 4 years

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in harmony.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i’ve cast the choirs (because i think i’m hilarious) and have a playlist to listen to as you read, if you want the ~full experience~. i’ve done my best to time it out with the music so it flows properly, depending on how fast you read. the beginning moves a little faster than the music, so i would recommend starting the playlist at the beginning of the fic. this one has been living in my head rent free for way too long and i’m so stoked to share it with you.

straight no chaser as the nsa mc6 a cappella as the atf pentatonix as the fbi

words: 4035 warnings: mild swearing, internal monologuing, and pining!hotch ft. supportive!jj, tw: a capella themes setlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7GQkhBUhUfdJI4m0vZbqbJ?si=46TMCTj9SkCRoHlnAxHfkg

masterlist | requests closed!

The Official Unofficial Los Angeles Inter-Agency Choral Competition was in its final stages of preparation, and you were at the center of it. CIA did the judging, as usual, and each agency had a team, a setlist, and a competitive streak a mile long.

Because the bragging rights awarded by the CIA were so coveted, the agents involved in the choral groups got a half day off of work, waived by the Assistant Directors themselves.

Thus, the NSA, ATF, and FBI choral teams were goofing around in the federal building auditorium with the abandon of a bunch of high schoolers. Sound check was always criminally fun, and most of it was spent giving each other a hard time and arranging music on the fly.

The engineers were still working and would still need a few minutes to themselves before you all got onstage and ran your sets.

“Hey, Bureau.”

You turned, finding Ben behind you in his black button-up and tie. “Hey, dumbass.”

Ben was the arranger for the NSA team and your closest friend in Los Angeles. You got along famously, and you joked that the friendship between you was the only reason there was interagency cooperation in your jurisdiction at all.

He was looking particularly sharp this afternoon, as the NSA team prided themselves on their polished performance aesthetic.

“Ready for tonight?” He asked.

You laughed. “God, am I ever. I’ve been working CT down in the bunker for weeks.”

“Oh, dude that’s brutal. When was the last time you saw daylight?”

You blew air through your lips. “Ah, fuck, I dunno, like a week?”

Ben laughed and slung an arm around your shoulders. “This is a helluva way to get back into civilization with the rest of us.”

You scoffed. “It’s bold to imply anyone at the NSA is a part of any society.”

“C’mon. Trash talking doesn’t start until we’ve rehearsed at least once.” He jostled you, and you let out another peal of laughter.

“Try me, hot shot.”

Meanwhile, upstairs, the BAU was finishing up their goodbyes and case reports for the Los Angeles field office. There was a spree killer wreaking havoc in the Mid-City neighborhood, and the BAU was of enormous help in apprehending the suspect.

You’d been in the aforementioned CT bunker for at least a week and had no idea your (greatly missed) former unit was on your side of the country, let alone in the same building.

“Oh!” Agent Fitzgerald said, suddenly. The BAU looked up all at once, and it was almost comical. “I completely forgot. There’s an event tonight that’s always really fun. If you all aren’t in any rush to get back to Quantico, we’d love for you to stay. If you’re eager to get back, they’re in the auditorium right now for a dress rehearsal and it shouldn’t take more than a half hour.”

JJ’s head tilted. “What’s going on?”

“The Official Unofficial Los Angeles Inter-Agency Choral Competition.” Fitzgerald grinned. “It’s really fun, surprisingly good, and never not hilarious.”

Emily laughed. “You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little.”

+++

Ben and his team were in the middle of their set, and you were bopping along with some of the ATF guys in the corner.

You couldn’t deny the talent on the NSA team. They were clean-cut, crisp, and well-arranged (thanks to Ben), but you couldn’t help but think they were a little too polished.

Ben had the lock on comedic mashups, and had a great on-stage persona - one of the very few NSA agents with a sense of humor. He sang directly to you, much of the time, in rehearsal because he knew it made you laugh. His sense of humor was infused through all the arrangements, and the lyrics alone were enough to have you on the floor.

Their movie medley opener was your favorite, full of silly references and even a sing-along section. You knew all the words simply because you’d sat with Ben as he spent three days arranging and adjusting it a couple of months ago. Obviously, you offered absolutely no help because all you wanted was to watch him crash and burn.

Maybe some sabotage could come in handy next time…

They rounded out their set with a clean-cut cover of Smash Mouth’s All Star. Ben was always in it for the laugh, and you loved it. Both teams in the house were laughing as the NSA made increasingly bigger spectacles of themselves.

It was easier to forget how much you missed your family in Virginia when you were with the other teams - rehearsing and bonding and spending time together. There was no unit in Los Angeles like the BAU insofar as the bond between team members, but this event always mimicked it better than anything else.

Without Ben, you’d barely have anyone at all. He happened to be assigned to you as a liaison between agencies on one of your first cases, and you got on like a house on fire. His friends became your friends, and you found your footing in your new home. They showed you the best beaches (Manhattan and Malibu), the best sushi (Enya), and perhaps most importantly - the best route and attack strategy for navigating the hell that was LAX.

You avoided calling your old unit as much as possible, as you were sure it would keep you from fully settling down. If half of your head was in Virginia, you’d always hate Los Angeles. That said, Aaron was still the first number on your speed dial, and your thumb spent a fair amount of time hovering over it before inevitably shoving it back in your pocket. You’d done it just today, walking from your office to the auditorium.

You left the ATF to their ridiculous devices, and joined your team in the house.

“Doin’ alright? I heard it was a rough week for y’all down in CT.” Michael, a Texas native and an insane talent, could have been an excellent profiler if he wasn’t so great at ferreting out tax fraud. You both spoke in hushed tones, as to not disrupt the rehearsal.

You nodded, patting him on the arm. “I’m alright.”

“Missin’ home?”

You nodded again. “Just a bit. It’s weird coming out into the world after being in the bunker - it’s almost like I don't remember where I am, and I almost expect to be somewhere else.”

He didn’t say anything, but leaned against you. It was a small gesture, but a meaningful one.

When NSA was finished, with their levels set and lights programmed, it was ATF’s turn to get up on stage and flutter around until they were adjusted.

Michael said something ridiculous, and it made you laugh out loud. You slapped a hand over your mouth, hearing it resonate through the house as one of the floor mics picked it up.

At the back of the auditorium, only minutes prior, Agent Fitzgerald had slipped in with the BAU. They all stood along the back wall, and you only would have seen them if you knew where to look. The auditorium was massive, and the only lights up were the lights onstage - distinguishable features were nearly impossible to determine from the distance.

Aaron’s breath caught for a moment. A microphone picked up someone’s laugh near the stage, and it sounded startlingly like yours.

Must be mistaken. There’s no way.

As ATF started up, Ben grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to your feet. He turned you under his arm and led - dancing you around on the floor at the front of the stage. You laughed your way into his arms, and fell into a relaxed Lindy Hop. You took turns leading, throwing him under your arm just as many times as you ducked under his.

Aaron’s thoughts wandered, the laugh he heard triggering something in him. He missed you greatly, but that was no secret. You two had started seeing each other, unbeknownst to the team, a little more than three months before your transfer.

The team were too polite to tell you, but they knew something was going on from the get-go. Hotch was happier, and you were more effusive in all situations. You balanced each other well, and could bounce ideas and fight and communicate like nobody else in the unit. It was an asset more than anything, but when the transfer assignment came through, there was no negotiating.

For all involved, you decided it was best to end things - or at least pause them - while you were stationed at the LA field office. It would be too hard, and you’d hate to hate him by the time you got back to Virginia for one reason or another. So, you were alone at the LA field office, while he stayed right were he was.

Wait. The LA field office.

He was jarred from his thoughts by JJ, who smiled and asked, “What’s their deal?” Her eyes were trained on the dancing couple on the house floor, out in front of the apron of the stage.

“Oh those two are the only reason the FBI and NSA play nicely in the sandbox together. They’re two peas in a pod. They work counter-terrorism for their respective agencies, and have a knack for solving inter-departmental disputes.”

“Are they together?” JJ’s question was light, but Hotch knew there were ulterior motives. Maybe she’d heard your laugh too, and refused to doubt.

She was good at that - not doubting. Hotch, on the other hand, sucked at the whole faith thing. He found his skepticism was only getting worse with age, and he (in that very moment) decided to have a little more hope.

“Oh, no, not at all. Ben doesn’t swing that way, and my understanding is that Agent L/N left someone back on the east coast and hasn’t been seeing anyone out here.” It was clear Agent Fitzgerald, a new import to the LA field office herself, had no idea you worked with the BAU prior to your transfer.

Maybe you hadn’t talked about them at all.

That thought sent a little unpleasant spike through Hotch’s chest.

Hope. Hope.

Maybe Fitzgerald just missed something, or didn’t know you too well.

Hotch could feel Emily’s eyes on him, but continued watching the ATF runthrough. It was your laugh he heard. Ben threw you around with ease, and you both cut clean, sharp lines silhouetted against the stage lights.

Then, of course, it was Emily’s turn to ask questions. “So how did this...tradition start?”

Fitzgerald shrugged. “It’s my understanding that it’s been happening for years, brought on by some ridiculous bet between ATF and FBI. Never ones to be outdone, the NSA inserted themselves, the CIA wanted a piece of action, and the rest is history.”

“Only in California,” said Dave with a laugh.

As the songs changed, Aaron watched you tap out of the dance, sitting down heavily in one of the house seats and taking a few huge sips of water. Ben grabbed his water bottle from the floor and came to the row behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder.

Though he was just told Ben would not ever be into you in that way, Hotch couldn’t help the prickle of jealousy that snuck up his belly. JJ, beside him, stepped close to him and hooked her hand around his forearm, her thumb brushing circles against his suit jacket.

“I’m alright,” he whispered.

She squeezed once. “I know.” It sounded like she knew more than that, but Hotch let it go. While sometimes irritating, it was nice to have people around him that knew him so well.

JJ continued to cling to his sleeve as the ATF transitioned to the FBI.

It nearly startled him out of his skin to hear your voice echo through the house on a hand-held microphone. You stood on the edge of the stage, squinting at the booth at the back of the house. “Can we run full tech? We have AV that needs to be sequenced correctly.”

A click, then a disembodied voice. “We’re ready for full AV.”

You shot a two fingered salute. “Thanks, team. Let’s bring up the seal for now and go from there.”

The FBI seal and motto floated into focus on the fabric behind them, and Aaron felt himself almost lean forward in anticipation. He chanced a look down the line, and the rest of his team was smiling, waiting, watching. Just like he was.

JJ bumped his shoulder.

The stage was rather dark, but he could see all five of you lined up almost against the fabric. The song started quickly, with strong base and an uptempo beat.

Your team ran to the front of the stage one by one, following the phrases of the music - fun and high energy.

“I didn’t know…” Emily whispered to Derek, at a loss. He shrugged, still totally floored. You’d never joined them in their horrible karaoke spectacles, claiming the sanctity of your dignity, but Hotch realized now it was just to spare their feelings.

You were incredible. Your eyes shone in the light, your smile flashing behind your microphone. It was obvious you were having a helluva time, and were close to your teammates. You played off each other easily, keeping pace without conducting, feeling the music and harmony in every cell of your body. Hotch saw your work ethic even in this - collaborative, but still taking charge.

It was clear your team looked to you for tone and energy, and you delivered. With a start, Aaron realized he’d never heard this song before. He leaned forward and asked, “Are some of these originals?”

Fitzgerald nodded. “The FBI team has a few strong writers on it this year, so they were able to pull together a medley, an original, and the closer in about three weeks.”

Hotch raised his eyebrows. “Wow. That’s impressive.”

She laughed lightly. “You’re tellin’ me. I was in here one day when they were workshopping after hours and was blown away.”

When you were finished with your first piece, you looked back to check the cyc - satisfied to find Home, arranged by Y/N L/N in gold, in the FBI font.

“I’m gonna practice my little spiel here or I won’t get it tonight. I’ll count you off at the end, go on three, yeah?”

Click. “Copy. Go for it,” came the disembodied voice once more.

“When we were deciding which medley we wanted to use, we figured out there was nothing in our library that really spoke to us at that moment where we were. So, we wrote a new one. This one is called Home, and includes a bunch of songs that not only include the word ‘home,’ but ones that mean something to us or someone we love.

“Home, to us, is where our families are. We all chose a series of pictures that represent home for us, the people we love. I hope you enjoy listening to this medley as much as we enjoyed writing it.” You flashed a winning smile before raising your hand, waiting a moment, and then dropping it, immediately starting to sing.

The rest of your team fell in right away, stepping up to the mics and sinking into the arrangement. A figure jogged up the steps toward Hotch, and he latently realized it could only be Ben, his agile stride giving him away.

He settled right beside Hotch, leaning against the wall. Needless to say, Aaron was confused. That is, until -

“You’re Hotchner, aren’t you?”

Aaron kept his gaze trained on the stage. “Who’s asking?”

“Ben Collins, NSA. I would be a really shitty friend if I couldn’t recognize someone I’d seen in a framed photo on Y/N’s desk like 20 times.”

With that, he gave Hotch a mock-salute and trotted back down the stairs.

JJ furrowed her brow. “What was that about?”

“I have no idea,” Hotch admitted. “He knew me, though, from photos.”

He felt, rather than saw, JJ’s smile as she bumped him with her shoulder. “Focus - You’re missing it.”

He huffed a laugh, and tuned back in.

Home was an undeniably fun medley, and the photos were heartwarming and strategically chosen to hide all faces except the agents’ on stage. Aaron smiled when he heard a line from one of his favorite songs.

Our house Is a very very very fine house...

Just a brush, but it felt like your touch, your smile, reaching him. You took the next section with renewed energy, never falling into stillness as you drove the music forward.

JJ clutched at Hotch’s sleeve, and he lifted his gaze from you to the cyc. On it, there were photos of Dave’s backyard, mixed in with what he only assumed were the pictures from your teammates’ homes and families. They were piling on top of each other, as if someone was throwing them into a pile, one by one.

A photo of JJ, Emily, and Penelope flashed by, their backs to the camera.

There was one of you, Jack’s face hidden in your neck as you smiled fondly at the person just to the left of the camera. Aaron recognized that image, but from a different angle. You’d been smiling at him, just next to Emily.

Emily’s eyes strayed to Hotch. There was a look on his face she’d never seen before. She almost looked away, feeling like she was intruding on an intimate moment. Instead, she lightly smacked Derek’s shoulder, and he looked over too.

“The separation has been hard on them both,” he said, his voice low. “Look.” He tipped his chin toward you.

Your posture didn’t look any different to anyone who knew better, but Emily could see the slight sag in your shoulders, hear the small catch in your breath. The music affected you more than you’d care to admit.

A photo came into view on the screen - one where you stared out the jet window with your chin in your hand, Hotch’s face pressed into your torso as he slept with his head in your lap. Your fingers were tangled in his thick dark hair, twirling absent-minded curls into the locks behind his ear. JJ smiled. She’d taken that one. It was soon covered with another, then another, then another.

Agent Fitzgerald bid the team a quiet farewell and slipped out to take a phone call. Hotch barely noticed. She’d been on her phone most of the time, and had missed the photos. She was blissfully unaware of your connection to the team, and for that Hotch was grateful. It almost felt wrong to disrupt the little world you’d built here.

They were almost done, preparing for the closer.

Maybe he was biased, but Hotch felt your team was the strongest.

NSA had the polish and that classic choral look and looked like they were having just the right amount of fun, but there was still that competitive edge that took some of the luster out of the performance.

ATF were the most traditional of the group, all of their music recognizable, tightly arranged, and reminiscent of barbershop quartets. While entertaining, it was clear you and Ben stole the show with your dancing, the music taking a ready backseat to your antics.

Your team had fun. There was no bite in it. You weren’t there to win, but rather just there for the sheer fun of it. Your music was yours, it meant something, and was more creatively arranged than the rest of them by a long shot.

Aaron felt a rush of pride as he watched you shine. While he couldn’t articulate it, he could sense the same thing Derek noticed. There was something pulling at you - the same thing pulling at his shoulders and the corners of his mouth whenever he had fun without you.

“Alright,” you said, just a little out of breath. You took the mic off the stand. “We have one last number, and we all sing it together.” You held the mic out to your left, and Ben took it from you.

“This is our favorite, because it’s a really good excuse to think of the people we love.”

Some agent (whose name always escaped you) from the ATF took the mic next. “Thanks for coming out tonight to watch our ridiculous annual competition, for bragging rights and honorary ownership of the City of Los Angeles.”

Ben took the mic from him and passed it back to you.

“I hope we all have someone in our life that we love so much it's difficult to articulate. I know I do.”

JJ inhaled sharply as Hotch let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You missed him. He could feel it. He wasn’t alone.

You replaced the mic, and stepped back. With the FBI in the center, ATF to the right, and NSA to the left, you began.

There’s a calm surrender To the rush of day When the heat of a rolling wave Can be turned away

It was a beautiful picture, all of you standing together as one united front. The sound was incredible - filling the space with sound that spun right into the chests of everyone listening. You stepped up with Ben and an ATF agent, standing close to the mic.

Ben reached for your hand, knowing this one was hard for you. You’d probably never get a chance to have Hotch in the same room, feeling what you felt, singing this song. It was silly - a Disney song. But it always cracked you wide open. It was only ever for him.

You took Ben’s hand and gripped it tight. It wasn’t performance, so you could really do whatever you wanted as long as sound and projections were able to do their work.

The breakdown of the song was your favorite, and you threw your hands in the air, releasing Ben - the final lighting cue of the show. It was designed to bridge the gap between the players and the audience, bringing everyone together.

The house lights came on about halfway, and the BAU was visible from the stage, as they’d all crept forward during the set. Hotch could only imagine what that lighting effect would do when the house was full of agents and their families later tonight. A true communion, with the music and the people.

Your eyes scanned the house, rehearsing your engagement pathway through the audience. A small cluster of people caught your attention, and Ben squeezed your hand. You looked over at him, still singing, and he gave a tiny toss of his head back to the group.

Looking more carefully now, you saw your team. More specifically, you saw Aaron.

He was watching you with a fond smile, and you knew he saw you clock his presence. JJ was on his arm, likely anchoring in him place and comforting him in only the way she could.

Against your will, a broad smile pulled at your face, a shot of adrenaline pushing you into the finale. Your eyes were locked on his, the music only a footnote to two simple words running on loop in your head.

He’s here he’s here he’s here he’s here.

The world for once In perfect harmony With all its living things.

You hit the final chord and let it hang in the air for a moment. It felt like forever - the BAU burst into applause, Derek and Emily whistling and shouting - while you and Hotch just stared at each other across the house.

The connection was only broken when Ben yanked you back to rehearse bows, which took all of thirty seconds. You squinted at your friend when you stood straight again. He had a smug little smile on his face.

“You knew,” you accused with absolutely no heat.

Ben shrugged. “I investigated.” He shot you a wink as he said, “It’s what I do.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved past him, nearly leaping down the steps into the house. You ran up the aisle, and Hotch was there to catch you, holding you close.

“You’re here.”

He kissed the side of your head. “Of course I’m here. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm

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arsonistvoyager · 4 years

Text

A Jedi for a Clone ; Captain Rex x Reader

PART 2 HERE

pairing: Rex x Reader

Summary: Imagine you're Pong Krells former padawan, now freshly knighted jedi, and you feel hatred towards the clones, especially the 501st, and you get put on a mission with Anakin. The clones are all a little scared to get close to you but also feel a little guilty (because they're angels) since you saw Krell when he was still a good jedi and they feel like they took your parental figure. But then the more time you spend with them you realize what your master actually did

a/n: this is pretty much my first time writing anything remotely star wars x reader so whoever comes across this bear with me. i’m a stupid little beginner lol.

“Is everyone ready?”

“Yes, General, we expect the shuttle to arrive within the next 10 to 20 minutes.”

Anakin nodded as he looked over the cliffs that the 501st had set their temporary camp up on.

Arami was a planet located on the outer rim, not far from where Anakin had grown up, meaning barely outside of Hutt Space.

It had not been long since separatist forces had invaded the sparsely populated planet and had begun to enslave its population – doing so right under the republics eyes. To provocate them into a fight, Anakin had thought when the council had brought up the news of yet another separatist invasion. To make it seem like the Republic was illegally occupying neutral worlds and forcing them onto their side.

Anakin had known it was a set up from the very beginning, but the council had insisted that he take care of the problem. To be more specific, the council had sent Obi-Wan to give Anakin the orders, knowing of the connection the former padawan and master had and how Anakin was less likely to refuse the mission if it came from his almost-father figure.

And of course Anakin did want to refuse. He despised being anywhere near Hutt-Space, more specifically, his old home world of Tatooine. Too many bad memories were connected to that place. In the end he reluctantly accepted. It would be a quick mission. The seperatists had supposedly not sent many of their droid forces. An easy task for the Jedi General. And it may or may not have been his deeply rooted hatred for the slave business that convinced him to take on this mission.

As he looked over the cliffs near the coasts of an Arami ocean he had to admit the planet was barely anything like the sandy, vast, emptiness of Tatooine. If he closed his eyes and listened to the clash of waves he could almost pretend to be on the beautiful idyllic plateaus of Naboo, nobody but a certain senator by his side.

The only thing ruining the beautiful scenery inside his head were the excited and anxious chatter of his men, his troopers, behind him. The council had sent Anakin and the five-oh-first without any aerial star destroyer support. Not even the senate, nor chancellor Palpatine had been notified of the decision. It was supposed to be a quiet secret between them and the Arami people they would rescue.

The only other person assigned to the mission was another Jedi General. A senior padawan that had been knighted only months ago and Anakin and his men were about to meet her.

Formerly Commander now General (Y/N) (L/N) had made a name for herself within the last two years of the war, not only by rising up in ranks and in the favor of many High Jedi of the Jedi Council but also in her skill of many force techniques and abilities as well as the success rate of her missions.

Many civilians knew of her as a saviour, many jedi knew her as one of the top notch generals of the outer rim. The clones however would only know her under one name. Master Pong Krells Padawan.

The shuttle had barely exited hyperspace and reached the Arami system when whispered rumors circulated around Anakins men.“Krells Padawan. She’s really coming.”

“Do you think she’s bringing a clone battalion with her?” “Nah I heard she doesn’t work with clones. Not ever since...Umbara, y’know.” “I heard she used to command several troops until she heard the news of the Generals death. I’ve heard she...slaughtered her own men in a fit of rage.” “Banthashit! Don’t listen to all the rumors you hear in 79’s, Echo.” “I swear it’s true!” “Did you guys know she wields two lightsabers?” Anakin could not block their voices out, as much as he tried. The force surrounding his men was practically shaking with their insecurity. He hated that they felt that way. And he hated himself for not being on Umbara when it happened to help his men. He regretted leaving his men in the care of that psychopath in the first place. But how should he have known? The regret clawed its way into his mind anyway.

As for General (L/N)...She was not an unfamiliar face to him. In fact, because she was not far from his age, the two of them had often been in meditation and intergalactic geography classes together, as younglings. She had been nice to him. Helped him once with one of the questions when Master Mundi had asked him about the surface of Mon Cala and he had been too occupied with his daydream to realize he had been called upon. After whispering a quick “thanks” she had giggled in response, before focusing her attention back onto the Jedi Master. That was before Obi-Wan took him on his first mission, followed up by many more. As a result Anakin spent much less time with the other younglings. Maybe he had seen her once or twice in the halls of the Jedi Temple, Anakin could not recall it. Had Master Krell been by her side? He didn’t know either.

When Anakin had consoled his men after the nightmares of Umbara he had been more than surprised that many of the clones, Rex included, felt horrible for what they had done to the Jedi Master. Anakin at the time had thought it was due to their extensive training on Kamino, where they learned to obey their Generals under any circumstances. Only later had he found out someone had gone to his men and told them all about Pong Krell, his devotion to the Jedi Order and his kindness towards his fellow Jedi.

And of course, about his very young Padawan.

Anakin had wanted to console her as well, had wanted to check up on her to make sure she was alright after the horrible news reached him. He knew very well the feeling of guilt about not being able to do something about the death of someone beloved and how the darkness would very easily latch onto that feeling and devour it. The council forbade him to act.

Instead they sent him on another mission – far from Umbara – a small planet in the mid rim. Simple humanitarian acts. The council had probably thought they showed mercy and compassion. Bantha shit.

The young General turned around as he received a message on his comlink. A trooper signaled him that the shuttle would land shortly. Anakin thanked him and started walking towards the landing area they had cleared up. As he walked past his men he noticed how they tensed up and muted. As if their earlier “whispers” hadn’t been loud enough for the entire system to hear. He sighed and regarded them with an empathetic gaze before he made his way to the front. He hoped they knew what he meant by that. He understood their fears.

The shuttle had settled on the ground and Anakin and several of his troopers watched as the ships ramp rolled out. Seconds later a figure emerged from the bright lights of the ships. There she stood, General (L/N), clad in dark jedi robes. She took less than a second to inspect her surroundings, looking the clones right into their eyes before her gaze fell upon the fellow Jedi General. With a strong, confident walk and a serious, stern expression she stepped down the ramp and made her way to Anakin, ignoring the soldiers saluting her arrival. --- You felt the clones’ nervousness in the force the moment the ship had touched Arami grounds. Good. They should fear you. They should shake underneath their bright white armor.

Blue. They had chosen blue to paint their generic armor. A pathetic attempt at individuality. Red would have been more fitting in your opinion. Had Master Krells red blood spilled on their neatly painted armor when they murdered him in cold blood? You had asked yourself the question numerous times. It still haunted you.

Dozens of eyes fell on you and you resisted the urge to shoot them a glare, deadlier than the two blue lightsabers attached to your hips. The council had sent you of all people on this idiotic mission. And you knew you had more important missions to attend to – in the calmness and familiarity of your own presence. Not surrounded by mindless clones. The killers of the kindest man you had known in your life, nonetheless.

“General (L/N)”, Skywalkers voice sounded. “It’s a pleasure to have someone as talented as you here with me.”

You knew of Anakin Skywalker. The golden boy of the galactic war. In fact, you had idolized him before Umbara had happened. Of course you knew he had nothing to do with what had happened, as he had been deployed elsewhere at the time, just like you yourself had been. B ut the fact that he continued to work with jedi-killers had shocked you. How was he able to live with these men that had killed one of you?

“As it is for me, General Skywalker.”, you finally answered, taking the hand he had reached out to you and shaking it firmly. “My deepest and sincerest apologies for what happened to Master Krell.” Oh no. “I want you to know that I-” You didn’t give him the chance to continue what he had intended to say. No – you did not need his empty words of pity.

“General I think we should discuss our strategy now.”, you instead cut him off with. “Yes...Of course.” Skywalker rubbed his forehead and sighed, stretching his arm out towards the location of their main tent. “But I just want to-”

You didn’t even give him the chance to speak, before abruptly turning towards the direction he had pointed at, determined to get this mission over as quickly as possible. It was then that you ran face first into a tall, broad man that had seemingly come out of nowhere. And your heightened Jedi senses had been too clouded with Skywalkers presence to recognize the other person.

Normally this simple occurrence would not have fazed you in the slightest. But this was Arami and aside from yourself and Skywalker there were only a certain group of people on the planet. Clones.

Instinctively your hands went to your lightsabers and your mouth curled into an angry scowl, eyes burning with fury. What imbecile of a labor-bred traitor had dared to step in your way?

You locked eyes with a blonde clone in full armor, clutching onto his helmet and already taking a few steps back. “General forgive me. I didn’t mean to-” The grip around your right lightsaber tightened. Had it not been for a decade of training in the arts of meditation, you would have probably jumped onto him like a feral beast and rammed your lightsaber right through that stupidly dyed head of his. Instead you decided to exhale deeply through your nostrils and stared right at him.

“It’s General (L/N) to you, soldier. Unlike you I have a name and I would prefer it be used to address me properly.” He could barely look into your eyes.

“Oh you’ve met, Rex.”, you recognized Skywalker's voice from behind you. “Captain Rex to be exact. One of my most trusted men.” Yes you knew of the silly little nicknames the clones gave each other and you were also aware of what Anakin was trying to accomplish, but you decided to not fall into his trap and walked towards the command tent.

“You okay, Rex?”, Anakin asked shortly after you left, laying his hand on Rex’ shoulder in a soft attempt to comfort. “Yeah...Yeah General. I don’t know what came over me. I wanted to apologize. I told myself now or never. But when I saw her I – I froze.” Anakin frowned, his eyebrows knitting in disbelief. “Rex you know you have nothing to apologize for. You acted in the name of justice.” The clone trooper stared at the ground, before putting his helmet back on. “If you say so.”

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a/n: Originally I wanted to write out the entire idea of her sitting down with rex and talking it out and realizing how she had been in the wrong and even make it a little romantic but then i got a little carried away in the process and it turned out WAY too long anyway so- enjoy this. whatever it is. I’d call it experiment and me dipping into unknown territory to see if i want to continue lol Maybe I will do a second part where they actually work it out tho

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #sttcw #clone wars #the clone wars #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #anakin skywalker #anakin #skywalker #clones #tcw #reader #reader insert #clones x reader

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onelastbreath-writes · 4 years

Text

I’ll Meet You There (Part 1)

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Wife!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Mentions child loss, loss of a spouse, survivor’s guilt, vague references to suicide/suicidal thoughts after loss of child (all located in the first 500 words, so it’s brief and not too dark, but please take care) and violence, swearing, and action/fighting.

Summary: What if Marcus’s wife didn’t actually die? What if she and a few others were kidnapped during an attack on Heroics’ HQ, and then held captive for years without realizing? If the only thing you “remember” from your past is that your husband and daughter were killed, well, you surely wouldn’t want to go back to the people who you believe did it. But maybe, with the help of a tenacious child and some re-awaking parental instincts, you’ll be able to break through the brainwashing and forced amnesia, and find your way home.

Tags: Hurt/No comfort (for now), ANGST, eventual happy ending, one really sad man for whom I just keep making things worse, #sorrynotsorry

A/N: This is my first We Can Be Heroes fic, and first reader fic, so please be gentle. I’ve got the rest of the story outlined, so I hope I can get down to writing and posting it soonish, but my RL is busy and doesn’t leave much time/energy for quick updates. If you like it and want me to do a taglist, let me know so you can know when I update again. Also a big thank you to the amazing Jay @disgruntledspacedad and her fic The Right Thing for inspiring this one, and for allowing me to use her wife!reader idea. Please go check her blog out, and give her some love <3

AO3 Masterlist

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“You’ve been in a terrible accident, Doctor, and I regret to inform you of your husband’s and daughter’s passing. Our rescue and recovery efforts after the incident were unfortunately unsuccessful, and you have our deepest sympathies.”

It took months for those words to even sink into you; months before you even remembered anything about who you were... the accident, or the attack, as it was more commonly known by you and the other victims, took your entire life away in an instant. You survived, physically, but at the cost of your partner? Your child? All the memories of your life together? How could you be worth it?

“Your transcripts and accomplishments are phenomenal, Doctor, and I’m in need of talented and capable individuals such as yourself to help right the wrongs, and demand justice, from those who have committed such heinous acts against us. The Heroics are murderers, destroyers of peace, and they have gotten away with their crimes for far too long. They’ve been praised and applauded and worshipped as gods while all they truly are, are terrorists. How many more innocent lives can we allow to be lost to their carelessness? ‘For the greater good’ is quite the insult when the people saying such things aren’t the ones losing their families to the chaos, wouldn’t you agree? Join me, Doctor, and we can make a difference.”

It was easy decision for you, even in the early days of your recovery. From the distant and foggy memories of your past, your anguish in what you could recall, you knew that if you could stop someone else from having to feel the loss and pain that comes from losing their spouse and children, you would do so in a heartbeat.

Your husband had been an incredible man, your Everything, you would imagine, going by the ache in your heart when you thought of being without him. His name, his appearance; that was all lost to you when you lost him. His existence in what could be healed of your memories was just a shadow, a shade, the vague impression of the man you loved. You remembered his warmth, his kindness and gentleness, his love and devotion to you and the child you created together.

And your beautiful baby girl... if thoughts of your husband left your heart aching, then thoughts of your daughter left you in unparalleled agony, completely inconsolable. You tried to avoid thinking of her, if you were being honest, tried to leave all what-ifs and could’ve/should’ve/would‘ve’s behind... you had worked with people, mothers, who had lost children before, had seen them tear themselves apart in their grief, taking the blame for something that was in no way their fault; you had seen them destroy their lives with their hoarded guilt and perceived crimes... you couldn’t allow yourself to fall for that, those falsehoods, you had to be alive if you wanted to honour your child and husband’s sacrifice.

“We will make them pay for what they’ve done to us, Doctor, I promise you that. Together, we can get justice for your husband, for your little Missy.”

---

Marcus knew something was wrong as soon as his commlink started transmitting static instead of his teammates’ conversations. The Heroics had been deployed to stop a hoard of rogue security androids that were infected by a virus or something (he couldn’t usually follow the technobabble), which had led them to escape their testing facility and target nearby civilians with their advanced weapons technology.

Evacuating the citizens trapped in the line of fire was the team’s first objective, and once the area was cleared of potential victims, they moved onto the containment and neutralization of the enemy combatants. The Heroics team was decently cohesive; they could work together to ensure the protection of innocent lives while in a firefight, but once the civilians were in the clear and the stakes not so high, the supersized egos of the members emerged with a fiery passion. This particular firefight was no different.

“Hey ‘Legend, bet you a week of incident reports that my count is higher!” Miracle Guy’s voice broke out over the ‘link, as eager to show-boat as ever, from where he was steadily piling up his deactivated attackers.

“I’ll take that action, Miracle, easy. It’ll be like taking candy from a baby!” Crimson Legend wasn’t the type of person who could ignore a bet, especially one issued from Miracle. “You’re probably so behind already that you don’t even stand a chance, ha!”

Of course, they just had to make it a game, keep the superiority contest going; like a single mistake couldn’t cost them a life or a limb. And just to further prove how amazingly mature the rest of Marcus’s team of Adult Superheroes were, they all started in on the bet too.

“If I beat your totals, I want a week off from training!”

“Ha! Like any of you have a chance of winning against me! I want my on-call weekend, off”

“If I win, you’re all my personal slaves for the rest of the day!”

Did Marcus say Adult Superheroes? He meant infants.

And they had started the mission so well, communicating and strategizing, actual teamwork instead of bickering and joking around like children. Hell, even their children didn’t get into as much trouble as their parents could.

“Guys, it’s really not the best time to be playing around. We need to focus on-” He was cut off by the loud static burst of an out-of-range radio. Shit. That’s not good. If his comms unit was fried, he couldn’t direct his teammates, couldn’t keep track of them, couldn’t help them.

They were pretty spread out by now, giving everyone room to use their powers without worrying about another Heroic getting caught in the blast zone. He knew from their most recent locational sound off that Crushing Low and Invisi Girl were working together near the intersection two streets over from him, and if he could make his way over to them, he could figure out what was going on.

Marcus needed to know if it was just his commlink that was out of commission, or if their entire network had gone down. The former scenario was a minor inconvenience, the latter was a major issue. Either he’d have to lead his team by correspondence, or he’d have to worry about them being completely alone in the field, without support from HQ, and without any chance of backup or rescue.

He couldn’t worry about the details now, he had to keep focused on finishing off the seemingly endless wave of androids. Androids with guns. Androids with guns that he was trying to kill with a pair of katanas... Maybe he hadn’t thought his primary weapon for this mission out very well... It was just something that he’d have to come back to later. For now: sword, robot, teammates.

---

They didn’t pay him enough for this. He should have gone into acting like he had planned before his powers manifested. This sort of shit didn’t happen to actors.

Marcus had destroyed all the androids delaying him from reaching his nearest teammates and was finally able to move to their location with relative ease and only minor distraction. He could see Crushing Low laying waste to the few remaining functional robots in the area, and could assume that Invisi Girl was around somewhere, disabling any downed but not dead enemies while protecting ‘Low’s back.

He was proven right when he heard a feminine voice call for him to “hit the deck, Moreno!”.

“Thanks Vis! You two doing alright? What’s your comms sitch?” He stood back up straight, just missing being nailed in the head by a flying metal limb had it not been for her heads-up.

“We’re a-okay! Comms are out though. No known damage to them, no knocks or surges, might be the tech, or it might be the channel. We’ll have to see what Tech-No thinks.” She was still invisible, but Marcus could imagine her animated expressions and movements. She was one of the most... normal... of the Heroics, if normal could ever be used to describe any of the team. Reliable and observant, with a good sense of battle strategy. He greatly appreciated her skills and efficiency in the field; she and Tech-No being the most down-to-earth of the Heroics, most willing to help him keep the peace between the rest of them.

“I’ll watch Low’s back if you can go find Tech. We need to know what’s going on, ASAP. If all the comms are down, and Tech can’t get them back up, I need you to find everyone and tell them to meet back at the robotics facility. Get Miracle and Fast to help if you can. If anyone’s injured, they’re your first priority, okay? Thanks, Vis.”

---

Getting every member of the Heroics team back together took nearly an hour, all coming fresh from the fight but thankfully not too banged up or bruised. They set up a perimeter once enough of the team had arrived to their meeting spot, allowing Tech-No to deep-dive into investigating their communications malfunction.

“It’s the network, not our comms. We’re dealing with a drop either from HQ’s side, or a forced drop here from RFI. But considering the standard distance and all the buildings and stuff around us, a radio frequency jammer wouldn’t be able to block our communications network as far out as we were. We must assume that the problem comes from HQ. which presents further concerns, obviously. I designed most of the technology there myself, so I know exactly how much work it would be to take down the whole system. We need to consider this as part of a bigger plot, and plan accordingly.” Tech-No’s eventual explanation hang heavy in the air, no one willing to break the silence following it... If something had happened to HQ… Their co-workers were there, their friends, their children…

Marcus thought of his daughter and wife. They were both there today. His wife worked in the medical centre, and they brought their daughter there for daycare. If something happened there... shit. If he was panicking about his family already, his teammates were doing the same. He had to head this off. He couldn’t let this get out of control. He took a breath and squared his shoulders. It was time to be Marcus Moreno the leader of the Heroics, not Marcus the husband and father. Lead by example, they’re all counting on you.

“We have no proof that anything is actually wrong, and until we know for sure why we can’t reach them, we need to do our jobs. Finish the mission. We’ve always trusted our people to hold down the fort at home so we can help people out here, and they’ve never let us down before. We are not going to doubt them now, understood? Whatever happened? We know HQ is doing their best to keep our loved ones safe. So, we finish up here, quickly and thoroughly, and then we head back to base. Let’s get moving,” He met his teammates’ eyes, allowed them to witness his own fears, but also his stubborn determination. He wasn’t asking them to ignore or dismiss their worries, but rather, put it into finishing the mission so they could go home sooner.

No one fought him; thankfully just picked their tasks and headed out.

“Tech, we need transport. Now. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done, alright?” Marcus refused to acknowledge the slight tremble in his voice, tried to breathe around the lump in his throat and the dread sinking in his stomach. He desperately stopped himself from thinking about coincidences and probabilities. This was all a fluke, a random string of events that didn’t mean anything more was going on. They’d be able to laugh about it when they got home and saw everything was just as they’d left it. He had to believe that. He didn’t have any other choice.

—-

Transport home turned out to be a military helicopter big enough to fit the whole team, in addition to the fully outfitted squad of soldiers already inside.

“According to the press release your director gave, there was small but powerful group of gifted individuals who invaded Heroics’ Headquarters, intending to either kidnap or kill certain “important personnel” within the building. Didn’t specify much more than that, other than that your organization would be dedicating as much manpower as they could to bring “those who would cause such destruction and terror” to justice. The address was filmed in the parking lot, but there were a lot of emergency responders and vehicle in the background. I’m sorry we can’t tell you anything more, but well, we were scrambled to your location ASAP, barely had time for the news we got...” The staff sergeant sitting across from Marcus briefed the team about what the intel they had on the HQ attack. And that was what it was. An attack. The thing they all feared most.

“Thank you for the information, and for the ride back home; we lost communication in the middle of a battle, with no clue as to why. Now, at least, we have an idea of what we should expect when we arrive.” The mention of “important personnel” jump-started Marcus’s heart into overdrive. That was the code phrase they used when describing their most vulnerable people to the public, non-combatants and injured persons usually; a smokescreen meant to dissuade targeted attacks, and shift attention away from those who couldn’t protect themselves in the case of an emergency. It was also the code that frequently represented their children.

The families of the Heroics were classified as high-risk targets; villains and enemies of their organization didn’t often have the moral decency to leave their loved ones out of the fight. So, to afford as much anonymity and protection possible, any time the team had to reference their partners and children in physical records and documentation, it was under that code phrase.

This attack was centred on their kids.

What kind of monster do you have to be to go after a bunch of kindergarten and primary school children?

Fuck.

The only good news was that there was no mention of the attack being a success.

So, all the Heroics knew for certain was that a group of villains had tried to get to their children, and while obviously causing significant damage to HQ, they had been stopped. Were unsuccessful. The Home Team had saved the day again.

Marcus thanked every deity he could think of for keeping his and his friends’ kids safe.

The rest of the flight home was quiet. Him and teammates finally able to get some rest after all the fighting and panic, and the soldiers conversing just loud enough to be heard over the headsets and hum of the chopper’s motors.

He was pulled back from the edge of unconsciousness he had been drifting along for a while when the pilot gave them their five-minute ETA.

They were home at long last, and everything was going to be just fine.

---

[Next Part]

#we can be heroes #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #we can be heroes fanfiction #reader x marcus moreno #marcus moreno x you #reader insert #hurt/comfort #eventual happy ending #please forgive my bad fight scenes lol

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amelia-grant-md · 3 years

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If you were to re-do the scene with Bucky and his therapist but with Amelia instead, how would the scene go?

Oohh that is an interesting question! (although I also kind of have to sort through what I, me, Josie, would do (as someone who really likes the fictional character Bucky and his backstory and also writing) vs. what Amelia would do (as a fictional therapist invented by a writer who knows fuck-all about therapy). Bc Amelia is very different to the therapist-character both as a) a therapist and b) a person. And that’s less about “what makes a good therapist” but “how does Amelia deal with things and what does she consider good therapy.”

For me, personally, I think what really bothers me the most about those therapy scenes in Falcon and Winter Soldier and really the way Bucky is being treated: This therapy is forced on him in the first place. He doesn’t want to be there. And this therapist often treats him in a very passive-aggressive way, especially in the first therapy scene. (I especially hated the thing with the notebook considering that Bucky and doctors with notebooks...yeah, they have a history).

And I know that a very common fandom reaction to his therapy scenes was that it is nice for Bucky that he is in a position where he can choose to push back, to refuse stuff - something he couldn’t do in ages. But personally, I don’t think putting him in a conflict position is the best way to get him to open up. I mean, it’s nice to teach him to push back (which is actually something we know he already can do bc we often see him do it when interacting for example with Sam and the entire idea of Bucky being some soft trembling flower is kind of a fandom-take) but I think the guy has bigger issues.

Now, talking specifically about Amelia and the kind of character I see her as:

One thing that I try to make Amelia do a lot is that she tries not to push people. She has a stubborn streak when it comes to how she perceives herself, but she doesn’t push that on others. That is for example why she told Val and Jacopo that they could leave any time if they needed to take a break or why she let Val get coffee when it was obviously her way of stalling - bc she could tell that Val was uncomfortable and didn’t want to add to that by saying: “Hey sit your ass down and talk now.” So it’s easier to let Val get her additional three minutes of getting coffee and then having her sit down for good.

It’s also why when she was invited to their house for the first time to check whether this is a good place for Jacopo, one of the first things she told Val was that she has no intention to take Jacopo away and that she wouldn’t be angry if she found something amiss (it’s too long ago for to me to remember what exactly she said but they had a brief conversation of that sort) - because she knew that putting additional stress on Jacopo’s parents would just give them reasons to hide stuff from her and not to tell her the truth which in turn would prevent her from helping Jacopo, so instead she wanted to give them the liberty to be honest without consequences and if she found something wrong, she could give them actual advice.

Or that’s why she never told Jacopo something along the lines: “stop cutting!” or “you shouldn’t have run from home!” - or for example when Jacopo told her that he considers stealing to show Jlo that stealing is bad, she doesn’t say “you shouldn’t do that” or “stealing is bad” or “that’s a dumb idea” or even “Wow you would be a thief and I hate thieves”, but just points out that he might get in trouble - not indicating any personal feelings on the matter. Because if she did that and he stole something, he might not tell her. So she just reminds him of the consequences.

When it comes to Bucky, I think one of the biggest differences is the apologising thing. I don’t think Amelia is averse to advising a person to apologise if a person genuinely feels bad and she thinks this might help them feel better, but she’s also someone who focussed her career on dealing with abused children (who tend to blame themselves for things they are not responsible for). And ironically, Bucky is also not responsible for the things he did when he was the Winter Soldier.

Now, I’m not a therapist and I don’t know whether apologising would maybe really help a person like Bucky feel better or not (it might! I’m not saying it wouldn’t!) - but just ignoring how therapy really works in the real world and just looking at characters and how fictional Amelia regards fictional psychology; I don’t think she would make him apologise unless he would insist on doing that. In which case, again, she would be very non-judgy and more matter-of-factly and point out the pros and cons for his mental health (and the mental health of the people he apologises to) and generally the advantages and disadvantages of this approach. And if he decided to do it, she would very frequently go over the results with him in a neutral way.

Obviously, we have to keep in mind that she was developed as a therapist for Jacopo so a big thing for her is that she’s always very: “Hey, this is not your fault.” and “You are not (stupid/slow/untalented)”. And I feel like for her, setting Bucky up to make apologies would be setting him up to internalise that he has something to apologise for - when really, he is the victim. It would be like...if someone grabbed your arm, made you slap someone, gaslit you into believing you hit that person and when you talked to someone about this, they would tell you: “Well, apologise to the person you slapped, and you will feel better!” - Again, I don’t know whether this would help a real-world trauma patient, but in terms of fictional psychologists, I don’t think Amelia would make him do that. Instead, she would focus on sorting through his trauma with him, teaching him coping strategies with stuff like flashbacks, nightmares, and other tendencies. And use that as markers of progress, not some third persons reaction to an apology by the guy who killed someone they loved. (which is another thing: Consent. I will say some more about this later but I think for her, consent is a big deal and involving those victims in Bucky’s therapy would be something she would really want do some check-ups on bc she cannot put her patient’s well-being over that of stranger’s.)

Another thing is the scene where the therapist takes Bucky’s phone, looks through his calls and then tells him it’s “sad” how few people he spoke to. That’s also something Amelia would never do - she has a very “glass is half-full”, “you tried your best!” approach. Also, again, she wouldn’t go through his stuff without consent and if she found out how many people he called, she would either not comment or she would at least find something praise-worthy about it.

In my own pedagogy studies, one very interesting thing my psychology lecturer always stressed is that any positive or negative attention from a person in authority* is automatically reinforcement vs. punishment. You know that feeling when your parents say: “Ooohh look, you left your room, huh? How nice of you to show your face for once!!!” - that is negative attention bc it’s indirectly saying: “Well you are never here you asshole.” (even if it’s not meant that way). And the thing our lecturer really broke down for us about punishment vs. reinforcement is that reinforcement is the more well-directed force – it’s like a laser while punishment is like a leaf-blower:

- If you tell a student who draws a lot in class: “Peter, stop drawing and focus!” (negative attention-> punishment) you can at best have one result: That the thing he won’t do is draw. You have no idea what he’s going to do instead. He might start throwing things for all you know

- But if you actually have positive reinforcement for Peter when he’s not drawing and you find a way to praise him for doing his work without the “ooh you left your room!”-undertone, you are actually reinforcing the positive attention he gets for doing his work and this is the one thing you are encouraging here. Even if you just say: “Hey, you really put a lot of effort into this and I can see your progress, good job” – already positive attention.

*(and yeah, I’m kinda projecting that from a teacher over to a therapist (bc again, not a therapist), but then, it’s also a court-mandated therapist we are talking about here and Bucky can get arrested for not seeing her - which is something that gives her a lot of power over a former POW whose captors infiltrated military and law enforcement)

And yeah, since this is...one of the few things I know, this is something that informs the way Amelia treats people (which is why she brings muffins to an uncomfortable appointment -> sugar makes people happy. So if someone is feeling down, they get a muffin).

Going through someone’s phone and telling them it’s sad that they called so little people is negative attention and therefore punishment. What she’s encouraging here is that the next time, Bucky simply might not bring his phone and lie about his social life (same as he already lies about his nightmares).

Also, again on the subject of consent: There is the question of adding someone else to a session. It was very important to Amelia to talk with Val before this entire thing was set up bc a) she wanted her explicit consent to this session and b) to make sure that Val knew about this and this was not something Jacopo had decided to spring on her to get his way.

Bucky’s therapist just pulls Sam into the session, putting him a very awkward position without his consent.

So yeah, how would I set up such a scene....(cough aka answering your actual question cough)

Now, ignoring for a moment how I would actively write such a scene from an stylistic point of view but just focussing on how I would picture Amelia setting up such a session/therapy in general:

I think the first thing would be that Amelia would be very open about this being a court-mandated therapy and acknowledging that Bucky does not want to be there. Personally, considering her own stance on consent, I’m already in the doubts here whether she would accept a court-mandated patient but then, I think she might if she was really optimistic about being able to help that person and since she’s a trauma specialist (although for children and young adults) she might give it a shot.

On the other hand, just the way she sees her practice, I don’t think she would be able to treat someone who doesn’t want to be treated in a way that they don’t feel comfortable with. She’s really not a “we have to dig into the things you don’t feel comfortable with!”- therapist and very “I will nudge and encourage them to bring forward what they want to.” (on that matter: She also didn’t really expect Val to put her survivor’s guilt all out in the open. But just to say which incidents lead to Jacopo running away from home from her perspective)

So, I can very well see her say to Bucky: “Hey, I know you don’t want to be here, I’m not going to force this on you, so let’s just have a tea and some croissants and I will non-bindingly talk a little about trauma management strategies and different places any person with trauma can turn to in an emergency and btw here is how you can contact me at any time.” That would mostly be an excuse to say a) yes, court-people, therapy has happened here are records on what we talked about and b) a way of hiding some real attempts to get him to talk. She might even pick fairly neutral topics like “do you know that new bakery downtown” (to gauge whether he goes out and explores or stays at home and shuts off) or planned vacations (does he plan ahead/does he have things he wishes to do or see and does he make efforts to do them?) or something in the hopes that he responds and she can gently nudge that conversation to more personal subjects.

Now, we have to keep in mind that Bucky is kind of…a dangerous person. Even if he’s not violent, he has super-powers, can be brainwashed and has PTSD a mile-wide which can make people irritable and even cause violent flashbacks. I think one priority for her would be to assess that danger potential – both to himself and to others. So, while she tries nudging at those subjects, I think central themes would be:

a) His emotional state (is he an angry person? How does he talk about his past? How does he talk about other people in general? How does he interact with his (21st century) environment? Also, he grew up 100 years ago, so she might actually try to get a read on how his thoughts and feelings on stuff like race, gender, sexuality – bc a lot of stuff happened since then and even someone with the most progressive ideas and intentions from the 1930s might at worst be out of touch with the 2020s and at best actually…mean well but say or do something that is highly inappropriate in the 21st century and put himself an awkward position in every day life, so I think she would try to get a read on that and give him pointers. (especially since she herself is a woman of colour with a phd working in the medical field (something that wasn’t a thing when he grew up) and treating a white man who got iced in the 1940s and was kept by actual Nazis for 70 years is probably something she would have some expectations and concerns about. I think generally, she would just want to observe how he interacts with her, considering that this is an uncomfortable situation for him and if she wants to know whether the Winter Soldier is dangerous – might just see how this legendary mystery killer reacts to being put in the room with a court-mandated personality-prodder and being served pastries. Now, we might be reading this from a position where we know Bucky and know he’s mostly a very decent guy – but Amelia doesn’t know that going in and while I picture her as a very encouraging and positive person, I also think as a professional, she would try to prepare herself for some fucked-up shit.)

b) His living situation (the thing where he sleeps on the floor is actually something a lot of former POWs and people who were imprisoned do so I imagine this is exactly one of the things she would be on the look-out for: Does he have a place to stay? Does he have food? Does he have someone who checks up on him? Does he take care of himself? – and depending on that outcome, she might encourage the efforts he already makes and offer help and give tips, mostly neutral ones at first like easy recipes that don’t require a lot of effort? Or if it’s really going badly, I think she would actually offer him to check up on him, much in the same way that she checked up on Jacopo’s home, as: “hey, this won’t have negative consequences for you, you don’t even have to let me in, I just want to see you alive once a week and maybe drop off some leftovers from my kitchen.” Now, this is something I know therapists should not be doing bc it blurs the line between private and professional life, but I think it’s definitely something Amelia is very accommodating about (I mean, she cAnoNicalLy lets her patients call her any time of the day if they have a problem and if Jacopo had called her that he was running from home, she would probably even have let him stay at her place until she had figured something out. I think she’s a person who really puts her patients first, even at the expense of her privacy…and well-being)

c) His danger potential (when he talks to her, does he mention feeling aggression? Does he disassociate? Does he have flashbacks and what are they about and when does he have them? Does he slip into that brainwashed personality?)

I think gauging those things mixed with providing help to acute difficulties Bucky shares with her would be her first priorities.

Now this can go two ways: Either he completely refuses to participate. In which case I imagine she would accurately and dutifully record that and either the therapy gets extended and she keeps going the way she does until he changes – or the court says: Well, we tried, therapy over, good luck Bucky – in which case she would probably give him her number and ways to contact her, maybe a self-help book and tell him her door is always open. Or if he does participate, I think she would slowly shift from gauging problems and providing direct solutions to immediate problems (“You don’t have the mental energy to cook? – Here are some quick recipes and these are my favourite pizza places in the area”) to long-term strategies and even medication plans, however they might look like for Bucky.

I think she would encourage him to develop a healthy social life same as his canon therapist and encourage him to seek out contacts but again, she definitely wouldn’t call it “sad” that the brainwashed ex-POW born in the 1910s has difficulties finding people to relate to but try to encourage the relationships she has (she would definitely give some positive feedback about Sam trying to reach out to Bucky, as he apparently did because a) he’s an Avenger and knows some of that superhero shit Bucky is dealing with and b) he also has experience supporting people dealing with trauma and c) he knew Steve, one of the biggest anchors in Bucky’s life.)

I also, think she would provide some medical help for the nightmares and teach some strategies for dealing with those.

And yeah, a lot of those factors depend on their effectiveness and I think it would be somewhat trial and error because Bucky’s situation is…pretty unique and not her field of speciality, but just in short, I think one of the central themes with Amelia as his therapist would be that she would try to get him to want to participate and a transition from a) getting a read on his danger potential and b) offering immediate help to immediate problems to offering long-term strategies and perspectives to deal with shit.

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unproduciblesmackdown · 4 years

Text

watched the end of some guy’s amnesia: rebirth playthrough and i have some boring thoughts @halloweenhavoc have u finished the game i feel like you have more of a grasp on all this stuff than i do lmfao what with having actually played it and also probably remembering machine for pigs better

i really did not like fully piece together either the lore of the Main Story of the game nor the broader Amnesia Universe Lore lmfao but i was interested in the latter especially, but re: the former, i did like having all these other Known People associated with the protag whose fates we could all find out and shit

i’m like, sort of underwhelmed, but that’s b/c even though i was like “okay so just b/c this is a frictional-produced amnesia sequel a decade later doesn’t mean you need to hype it up like it’s gonna blow your mind just coz atdd was That big a deal” doesn’t mean i still wasn’t partially like oh but what if it is like mindblowing horror game tho......it felt a lot more like soma than atdd which isn’t in itself bad b/c soma rules but when i’m expecting it to be more like atdd it just makes things kinda bemusing and hard to recalibrate.....it was a good game though lol just like the whole time trying to figure out what the experience is gonna be i guess

anyways so like in the direction frictional’s games have gone it def feels like they’re more into Game Environments (those ruled in this game....) and being very like Thematic Story-Centric.....atdd was very stripped down and they sure got creative with that and it was as effective as it was but yeah it feels like now that they have the clout from that and the game production experience and presumably more resources and stuff that they’re progressing in This Direction which is not as atdd-esque lmao like good for them if this is the creative vision, follow those dreams and stuff

did not feel at all invested in any of this baby lore lmfaooo like it was very abstract and also i don’t care. but 10/10 for breastfeeding gameplay

i did like the Other World lore like. this is where alexander is from, Maybe?? i remember he’s mentioned as an apostate from [somewhere else] but like, is that somewhere else in another dimension or just another Region in this world lmao i don’t know. out here Inventing the amnesia potion vitae harvesting strategy, and then it’s Something Else he does that is considered heinous and they just banish him to earth lmfaooo like our problem now......and who is alexander’s wife lmfao. in atdd bad ending, when alexander portals back, does he get to come back to the shitty place where nothing’s going on but eternal vitae harvest i guess? sucks. in atdd sorta-neutral-ending, when you toss agrippa’s head through the portal and then agrippa asks [someone, i forget who....the student? weyer? or whoever??] to Help Daniel, does everyone get to go to this crappy world or are there other better dimensions lmao....also i forget how this The Other World got so shitty in the first place. something something they flew too close to the sun with their technology and it got fucked up, i forget what The Gate even is........i do like this origin story for what the fuck is up with the shadow lmfao. that like, it’s just some other alchemical Invention expressly to fuck up the vitae system?? which is sort of counter to the idea that it’s simply a Guardian of any orbs.....but then also, there was some sort of note or memory that seemed to imply that having fucked up whatever Gate they fucked up created something that sounded like maybe it was the shadow?? or was it just something Else fucked up and b/c it was like “uh oh something shitty is happening here now” i just Assumed it was the shadow.....idfk. but idk maybe since Orbs are Other World Tech For Portals the shadow is just like, Other World Tech Ruiner and if you handle one improperly the shadow will like, sense orb-jostling Lol and be On It....i don’t knowwww

i gotta admit i did love the lore tying to atdd lmfao like maybe this game would’ve been better off not really being tied to atdd but i’m still like oh yep i’m a sucker for cameos / lore about these atdd people places and things.....herbert, alexander, daniel, brennenburg, and someone else i forget who was like “i’m the first human to get to this place but i don’t have A Traveller’s Whatever so i have to die here,” rip to him.....kinda funny that vitae-harvesting is like, so Industrialized in the other world with this factory and mass-produced as it were, which is Fucked Up, and alexander got shot to earth for some mysterious terrible thing and had to invite some rando with an orb to his castle and then get his help torturing other randos with medieval instruments like. banging rocks together over there. also i don’t get what the harvesters job was? they were sure Harvesting but if the vitae is just getting Sucked thru tubes why are these guys going around breathing it in also. just like, stray air-vitae filtering system?? idk

also what was going on time-wise with this weird accelerated pregnancy. i don’t think i get Why tasi got amnesia in the first place. coincidence i guess??? and why...did she end up back in the plane wreckage. was that just where she got dropped off after they were all like. taken from Our World into the Other World and then....back into our world?? i guess??? i’m just not clear on the Timeline Of Events and how everyone got split up with some people dying and shit....was everyone getting attacked by ghuls i guess. there was a crapload of them in that one place, wasn’t there.....i also forget Where things happened lmfaooo like shit was this in Earth or The Other World.....i guess the latter it was always like, “high tech” with that art deco design shit and green light and stuff.....god i don’t know. like i already forget why richard was like, held captive and tortured. just on evil principle??? augh lmfao

also it was certainly Interesting that people turn into monsters around here with some like, magic + corruption deal going on......felt like the Lore in atdd was sort of vague but that it could Maybe tie into that sort of idea....frictional games sure will like, Metaphorically have the Self and the Non-Self But Which Is Tied To Your Self in all its stories, atdd, soma, rebirth......daniel having this past self he’s now detached from but re-learning of his past exploits.......soma copy/pasting consciousnesses.......uhhh also when it was talking about the ideal Vitae Collecting Cycle being fear, amnesia, and then Hope, and about who was the best candidates for that, i was really thinking that like, we’d learn tasi was being put through a [Hope] sequence, basically

also (rachel if ur reading this lmfao) i remember this pre-release Audio Tape that wasn’t in the gameplay that i think was like, the doctor doing an experiment on a Monster to confirm it had regenerative properties?? i thought we were gonna get a whole fucked up subplot dealing with that guy lmfao but nah just at the end......i guess soma’s promotional stuff was similar, they had all these Files and Videos and stuff which was relevant to the Lore / story but which wasn’t like, flatout in the game......i guess at some point the doctor must’ve been like, experimenting on a crew member who was sort of in the process of Turning or w/e. hank or someone i guess.....UHHH i did like “talking” to so many monsters lmfaooo like leon and crap. wild, tragic, etc.......

RIGHT and i think frictional is really creative in its like, Game Mechanics, like how relatively recently we learned that that whole thing about being told that Low Sanity makes you easier to detect in atdd, but that wasn’t true and was just put in the game to put the player more on edge? i mean, daniel keeling over for a moment if sanity gets too low is probably unhelpful in a chase but. and like, here the “sanity” thing was neat, i liked the Sound lol, i liked the flashing images and how that was like, Relevant, but also it seems like you can’t ever die in this game?? basically, ish?? which i think is neat. like, you don’t really Need to.....said it last time how it feels like the player just is still going to react as Urgently if they’re being chased by the monster lmfaooo

idk there was something other neat / creative element i think i wanted to point out as Cool but i forget (HAHA...manesima.....) i dunno the 0.0001% chance any of you are Coincidentally into amnesia at all and know what all is being talked about here and have thoughts....feel free to send me an ask or whatever.......would be inchrested in hearing other takes on it etc

OH and it didn’t feel like machine for pigs was involved at all lmfao which makes sense since it wasn’t actually produced by frictional but now i’m really struggling to remember the Lore there and if it could Conceivably tie in with descent/rebirth-verse.......oswald’s soul got actually split with Evil Orb-Corrupted Self (which!!!! i forgot there’s even the implication that maybe orb-proximity fucks you up. didn’t seem that relevant here. here magic empress fountain water fucks you up) and Amnesia’d Good (Normal-er) Self and there’s the giant machine which is gonna.....consume the world to protect it from self-destructing in another way......or, that was the reason given to oswald anyways, i remember he like sacrifices his kids to it to save them from [his visions of ww1 being an impending thing] and he doesn’t find that out till the end......his evil self tricked his good self into firing up the machine......i forget where the pig men come from or what their point is, and the machine is like, another Factory Line Vitae Harvesting thing, right?? what’s the vitae For in this case....i sure don’t fuckin know. i forget what oswald does at the end as well to like, fix things, i remember feeling sad about it even though he was a horny weirdo.....i really forget what the full picture was there or what the Orb Involvement was. anyways. idk

would be fun to see more frictional games but it seems like they’re not too interested in doing something as atdd-esque again lol, soma seems more like What Frictional Really Wants To Do, which isn’t a bad thing cuz soma rules and like. objectively i guess soma is the better game, i’m not at all mad at anyone arguing soma is better lmfao, i just sure cherish atdd and it sure is the one that made the whole [subsequent horror game defining] splash lmfao. OH YEAH and i liked they threw in another moment where someone’s been alive for ages and you unplug them and it’s like what the fuck. and i guess you do that but even Harder in the one Rebirth ending where you shadow-infect everything and all the people in the vitae-pods die......which like, it Was def creepy having all those vitae pods lmfao. conceptually fucked up.....uh yeah that’s it i guess. was a sucker for the atdd-lore-fanservice stuff lol. thought it was good but wasn’t like atdd 2.0 which is both Totally Fine and also A Bit Disappointing Of Course lol. now i’m thinking about soma some more though which is Worthy cuz that game rules and i love its story / concepts so much. and i love that you keep fisting sphincters to Save until you have to fist your forearm off. we’ve all been there. and i love the “we have the better view. :)” audio log from someone on the surface. and how the gradual reveal of the [lady you talk to throughout the game who guides you along]’s story. and the Ending. and the gradual reveal of Just What Is Going On Around Here

anyways yeah atdd rules soma rules i thought this game was good too but def is like okay you’d rather make soma than atdd and that is valid

thots????????????????

#amnesia

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always-and-forever-a-killjoy · 4 years

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Hello fuckers! This is the ridiculously long fic I've been vagueposting about for like weeks. 23k words sitting in a doc! I'll be trying to post maybe once every two weeks, but once school starts again it will be a lot harder to get out 3k words in a week. I have seven chapters written, so I'll consistently update for probably 2-3 months and then no promises after that. This is going to be a fucking epic.

Note that not all warnings apply to all the chapters, so I'll be warning for triggering/upsetting content in each chapter individually. Please heed those!

You all also get to play a game of 'guess which song the chapter title is pulled from', which is made more difficult by my music taste ranging from musicals (les mis! DEH!) to my chemical romance. I'll let you know what the chapter title was from when I post the next chapter. Also, the POV switches each chapter, so that info is also in the notes.

Title: Coming, Coming Home

Chapter Title: Do you want to live out loud?

Chapter Wordcount: 3099

Summary:

The story of 109 WKIL, from the mother that began it to the daughter who saw the end of it.

Warnings: None for this chapter!

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

It began with a handheld radio.

The killjoy who was already beginning to be known as Dr. Death Defying had stolen quiet a few of these portable transmitting devices when he left the army of the corporation called Better Living Industries. Now, he began to give them out, one after another, to the small clusters of rebels who were just beginning to call themselves killjoys. With those, the groups kept each other updated for a while, passing whispers back and forth over the airwaves. The positions of squads of dracs, who had extra supplies, where there were good buildings to scavenge from or shelter in.

Those were highly effective in the small rebellion, news passing quickly between the few rebels, but as more killjoys began to enter to desert, take up the colors and masks and ray guns and form themselves into a true rebellion, it was getting to be not enough.

“We need something with a wider reach.”

Dr. Death Defying was sitting at the so-called strategy table (which in actuality was a shitty kitchen table strategically repurposed), listening to White Lily talk about rebellion. It was another ordinary afternoon, or as ordinary as one could get in a post-apocalyptic nuclear desert plotting to overthrow an evil mega corporation. The sun was shining brightly overhead, and he and his best friend, the fiery spirited White Lily, were in a partially wrecked house out in Zone Four, where they had been staying for most of the time since the Helium Wars. Both former soldiers, they had served together for a little bit after D had first been recruited. He had been transferred to a different squadron soon after, and they hadn’t deserted together, but they’d met up after the wars and become close friends. Two dreamers who wanted to save the world, she had said. And so now they were trying to do just that, one killjoy recruit at a time.

“If this is going to be a true revolution, Walkie-talkies aren’t going to cut it,” White Lily went on. “We need a way to reach more people. Get the word out quicker.”

“Did you have any particular ideas?” Dr. Death Defying asked dryly.

Her eyes gleamed in the way that meant she did, in fact, have an idea. “A radio station.”

“A what?”

“A radio station. I know I sound crazy, but hear me out. If we can get our hands on the equipment, a lot of killjoys already have radios and that way we can also reach the ones with only a car radio. We broadcast news- who’s dead, where bli is attacking, just generally what’s going on. We can also make speeches over the radio, like what’s his face, the president guy, did with his fireside chats."

“FDR. And you can make speeches over the radio.” It wasn’t that he couldn’t, per se, but he would rather leave the main speaking part of it to her.

White Lily briefly made a sad face, but was back to determination within seconds. “Right, well I can make big speeches if you do daily announcements and news, deal?”

“Deal.” They realized a second later what they had just accidentally agreed to and sighed.

The other just grinned. “Time to get some radio equipment!”

And so it began with a hand held radio and a duo of Helium Wars survivors, and 109 WKIL was born.

109 WKIL didn’t actually broadcast until two full months and a new crew member later. It turned out to be not exactly easy to get their hands on the equipment necessary to send out signals, and neither of them knew precisely what running a radio station required anyways. They researched as best they could, asking around and reading any old books they could find, but supplies were scarce and electronic equipment especially so. And so they didn’t get the radio station fully running until after the arrival of their third crew member.

It was another of the somewhat lazy afternoons in the desert when Cherri Cola showed up at their house in a stolen BLI News Van. White Lily was gone, off talking to a small band of neutrals and trying to persuade them to aid the rebellion, so it was Dr. Death Defying who was there to see a no-longer white van screech to a stop. He kept his ray gun close as he stepped outside, since the van was Better Living Industries, but the side of it had a sprinkling of graffiti and it was covered in dust, which reassured him somewhat.

“Hello?”

The van’s engine clicked off and Dr. Death Defying breathed a sigh of relief as a lean teenager hopped out, squinting in the sunlight. They were clearly a killjoy, given the pink mask, and they also wore scuffed jeans and a too-small black jacket despite the warmth of a desert afternoon. Their hair was brown and a sandy mess, and they were perhaps an inch or two shorter than Dr. Death Defying. They were completely and utterly un-intimidating with the sole exception of their eyes, which blazed with fierce and bitter kind of anger.

“Another killjoy?” Their voice squeaked a little, undoing any effect of those fiery eyes, and they cleared their throat. “Uh, another killjoy?”

At loss for words, he nodded. “I’m Dr. Death Defying, he/him and they/them.”

“Cherri Cola.” They fiddled with their shirt hem. “He/him.”

“So…I’m assuming you’re looking for White Lily?”

“Was actually just looking for a place to stay the night,” Cherri Cola mumbled. “I didn’t realize you were already staying here, I can leave-“

“Absolutely not, get inside.” They hoped their voice didn’t sound too firm. “White Lily and I are happy to let people stay with us who need.”

“Oh.” D pretended not to notice the relief on his face as he ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Do you want to come into the shade? It’s baking out here.” He didn’t mention how hot the other killjoy must be in that jacket.

“Yes, please.”

So he led the strange teenager inside, half-wondering what made the teen’s eyes so old and filled with hurt and rage. It wasn’t an uncommon sight in the zones, per se, but this kid’s eyes were striking in their pain.

“So, how old are you?”

“Sixteen, you?”

“Twenty. Do you want some power pup? We’ve got a bit of extra, I think.”

Cherri nodded eagerly, and he devoured everything D put in front of him. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to pull off a raid or anything, and hacking vending machines isn’t as easy as it looks.”

That would explain why he was so lean. “You’ve got the look of someone who’s been out in the desert a while.”

“Almost since the end of the wars.” There was no need for him to specify which wars. The Helium Wars loomed over everyone and everything, desert and city.

“Ah. I’ve been here since the very end of the wars, so not too much longer than you. My friend White Lily and I were both deserters, we met up and decided to stick it to the man, as it were.”

“So you live together?” Cherri Cola’s face had softened into curiosity.

“Yep. We’ve been sheltering in this house for quite a while now, but we’ve lived together for longer than that.”

Cherri nodded. “I’m on my own. Runaway from Battery City, never found a crew. It must be nice to live with your friend, though.”

At that moment, said friend came tromping through the door. “Hello, D!”

“Hey, Lily!”

Cherri waved with a quiet “Hello.”

“Hello, random stranger in my kitchen!”

Dr. Death Defying sighed. “White Lily, this is Cherri Cola, he/him. Cherri Cola, this is White Lily, she/her.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cherri said politely.

“Nice to meet you too, kid! So I’m assuming this softy offered you a place to sleep for the night?”

“I did, he needed a place to stay.”

“Softy.” White Lily turned her grin on Cherri Cola. “You’re welcome to stay for a bit, we’ve got a nice place and an extra room, so I don’t see why you wouldn’t.”

“I can pull my weight,” he offered quietly. “I know how to sew and some first aid and a little bit of fighting, but I’m not great yet.”

“What makes you think you have to pull your weight for us to give you a room for a night?” Lily’s face was genuinely concerned. “Can’t believe I’m going to say this, but chill, kid.”

There was something in Cherri’s eyes that reminded D a little of a wounded animal as he glanced up at Lily. “You’re sure I don’t have to be helpful? I can do a lot of things- okay, not a lot, but I’m pretty good at fixing things and I know how to fire a ray gun, even if I can’t really do hand-to-hand combat.”

"Well, if some dracs attack, then you can put that to good use,” D told him.

“Wait, did you say you can fix things? Tech skills?” Lily leaned forward, and D didn’t have to see her face to know what she was thinking.

“My…I knew someone who’s an engineer,” Cherri explained. “I know how to fix a lot of things.”

“You don’t happen to know anything about radio equipment, do you?”

“Lily,” D sighed.

“Some, why?”

“We could use some help getting a radio station off the ground. And shush, D, if he’s going to stay anyways, we might as well figure out if he can help.”

“A radio station…do you have a transmitter? Or anything of the sort? And you need modulators.”

“We’ve got the modulators,” D told him. “We need a transmitter, the little one I found isn’t near powerful enough.”

Cherri Cola frowned, tilting his head. “Well, I’ve got a news van with what I’m assuming is a very powerful transmitter, haven’t tried to use it yet, though. We’d have to figure out how to make it work with audio instead of video, but I bet you could use the antenna from that. An FM station shouldn’t take too much technology, depends on how wide you want the range to be. Power is probably more of an issue?”

“We’ve got some large batteries, do you think we need a more permanent power source?”

They talked until the sun was starting to set, Cherri having quite a bit of useful advice and knowledge to supplement what little research D managed.

And after Cherri was safely asleep in the spare room, Dr. Death Defying and White Lily convened back at the shitty kitchen ‘strategy’ table.

“You’re not seriously thinking of letting him stay forever,” Lily said as soon as she had taken her seat.

“Why not?” Usually, it would be Lily who asked this question, but “He needs a home.”

“This better not be fucking Socks all over again.” Socks, being, of course, the cat D had tried to take in during the Helium Wars. Not only had he been a lot of trouble, he had eventually run off onto the battlefield, and neither of them had been able to stop him. They could only assume he had been killed in the final days of the wars.

D still regretted that, but this was different. “He’s not a cat, Lil. But he does need a safe place to stay. Besides, you were the one who was grilling him about radio station technology.”

“At first. Then you took over with all your technical words and phrases.”

“All we were doing was talking transmitters.”

“Nerd boy.”

D sighed. “Anyways. He can clearly be helpful, given how much he knows about radio technology and other things, and he’s obviously in need of a place to stay.”

“Well, we’ve got one of those at least,” Lily sighed. “He better end up a good radio station assistant for you.”

D knew that meant Cherri was staying. “We’ll offer to let him join in the morning.”

“We will.” Lily’s face was serious. “Be prepared for him to say no, D. We’re not famous yet, but being friends with rebellion leaders probably isn’t an easy lot.”

“Of course not.” The flashlight they had hung for light flickered. “We’ll warn him about a friendship with us means, but we can’t just kick him out.”

“Technically, we can, but we’re not going to.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

The next morning dawned slightly overcast, which was rare in the desert. It provided somewhat of a gloomy atmosphere as Cherri Cola wandered into their living room area with a tired “Morning.”

“Morning,” Lily yawned back. D was the only one properly awake at the crack of dawn, always an early riser.

He found it somewhat amusing how non-functional Lily was until she had had some coffee or gotten some adrenaline from a fight. “Good morning.”

Cherri settled down in one of the chairs cautiously as Lily opened her mouth again. “So, D and I were talking. Big softy that he is, he wants to let you stay with us if you want, and I figured you might be pretty handy when it comes to radio stations.”

“Don’t let her twist it, she’s equally on board.” D resisted a sigh. “We do have to warn you, we’re leading a rebellion. Lily is, at least. I’m something like a right hand, I suppose. So it will be dangerous and difficult to be friends with us, and the radio station will not be an easy endeavor either.”

“Can’t be worse than…” Cherri trailed off. “Can’t be worse than wandering the desert on your own in a stolen news van. Do you really want me to stay?”

“Hey, we always want another pair of hands.” White Lily’s joking tone didn’t get a grin out of him. “You seem like a neat kid, why not let you stay?”

“Guess so.” Cherri yawned again. “So, do you happen to have a screwdriver? I think I’ve got some ideas about the modulators.”

So Cherri Cola came to live with them. His primary occupation was trying to get the radio station able to broadcast, alongside Dr. Death Defying, combining each of their respective technology skill with a lot of guesswork and the knowledge gleaned from whatever books they could find. He rarely went on runs with White Lily at first, but as they found out a week or so in, he turned out to be more than a decent shot with a ray gun.

“Holy fuck, Cola.” White Lily was staring at the empty can he had just knocked over- from a distance of a hundred and twenty feet, further than D or Lily had managed yet.

“Is that a good or a bad ‘holy fuck’?”

“Good. Holy shit. D and I haven’t hit that yet, not with a shitty little ray gun like yours anyways.”

“What’s wrong with this ray gun?”

“No offense, but that’s a piece of shit.” D watched as she took the ray gun and weighted it in her hands before handing her own to Cherri. “Feel what this one’s like- it’s a little heavier, but it’s a lot nicer. Yours doesn’t even have a stun setting.”

It took him one or two practice shots, but within a few minutes he was shooting even more effectively.

“A hundred and FIFTY feet! D, did you see that?”

“I did,” D told her, glancing over at the youngest of their little trio. “Cherri, we need to get you a better ray gun.”

The better ray gun would have to wait, though, as the next day, they finally found the last few pieces of equipment and things that they would need for the radio station. They had decided that 109 WKIL would broadcast from the news van Cherri had arrived in, since the antenna was already attached and that way it could be portable if Better Living Industries managed to track their signal. So a few days of fixing later, they had cobbled together a working radio apparatus that could broadcast at a range of thirty miles or so. It had taken a lot of swearing, banging around, and failed test runs, but eventually they had it figured out.

The very first broadcast fell to D, as it was decided he would be the main DJ, and he settled at the panel a little nervously. Cherri was crouched beside him, fiddling with the last few cords.

“Think we’re good to go,” he whispered.

"Right. Here goes nothing.” D took a deep breath. “One-oh-nine in the sky and the pigs won’t quit, welcome to the very first broadcast by one oh nine WKIL, the rebellious radio station of the desert. I’m Dr. Death Defying, and I’ll be your usual DJ, keeping you updated on all the news from claps to raids to Mad Gear concerts.”

The script had been decided on beforehand so that he didn’t stumble too much, but he still had to pause to take another quick breath and steady himself. “We’ll be doing our broadcast at this time every morning, pretty soon after alarm clock radiation, and we’ll be fanning the spark of this desert into a flame. So tune in, listeners, for all the latest updates, weather, traffic reports, and the best music we’ve got. One oh nine in the sky, this is Dr. Death Defying signing off.”

Cherri gave them a broad grin and a thumbs-up as D fumbled to click the right buttons to get the music going. D grinned right back, and White Lily came charging into the van a few minutes later, brandishing the radio they had been using to test their broadcasting capabilities.

“It worked! You came though loud and clear, even a good ten miles away, and you’re already getting good at this. I told you, you could do it!” She gave him a high five, grinning, and turned to Cherri. “And good job, soda kid! You’re already a radio station technician.”

Cherri laughed and high-fived her. “Wasn’t expecting to become one at sixteen, but not the worst place I could have ended up.”

They had tried to spread the word as best as possible about the radio station beforehand, so D knew there had been a fair amount of killjoys already listening to the first broadcast. And word travelled quickly in the desert, so he didn’t doubt their listener base would grow over the years. But for now, the rebellion was small, and the twenty-one-year-old leader and her two best friends were heading inside for a celebratory breakfast of power pup.

#cherri cola #dr. death defying #auri writes #coming home #original character #white lily #ttlofk #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #danger days fic

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la-jolie-mln-posts · 4 years

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What is a brand? For most of us it’s a line of apparel, a type of smart phone or your favorite cereal. But a brand goes way beyond just products and extends to people. Some of you will remember the Apple ad that showcased a Bill Gates type (guy in a jacket and tie, looking dull and corporate) against a Steve Jobs type (hip, casual, smart). You get the point. And, so did the audience — Microsoft blah, Apple, cool. It worked!

Who are some of the most visible people with personal brands? Kim Kardashian comes to mind. But if you are interviewing for an executive position at one of the top 5 consulting firms, hers is not the brand image you want to bring to your first Zoom call or in-person interview.

Oprah Winfrey owns her personal brand. She welcomed discussion about body image, embraced her own and never lost her credibility. She dressed for her position, for the occasion and for her image. She never looks sloppy. She’s crossed the Rubicon from entertainment icon to business mogul, but never lost the Oprah brand.

Princess Kate Middleton is a princess, mom and leading figure in the world of outreach to children in need. As her style has evolved, she’s been able to communicate her brand through personal acts and personal style that remains young and hip.

Today women head some of the biggest U.S. corporations. Here’s just a few….

Susan Wojcicki, CEO of YouTube Lynsi Snyder, CEO, of In-N-Out Burger Marillyn Hewson, CEO of Lockheed Martin Mary Barra, CEO of General Motors Whitney Wolfe Herd of CEO of Bumble

They may not have the same instantaneous brand recognition as the Kardashians, Oprah or Princess Kate, but to achieve the positions they have on the highly competitive playing fields in which they operate, they all had to create something unique — a personal brand.

Branding with the 4 “P’s’

It’s a familiar strategy for experienced marketers. Let’s say you’re launching a new brand of lipstick or changing a trusted brand with new packaging or a new message. You start by thinking through your brand strategy using the 4 P’s:

Product: A product can be either a tangible good or a service that fulfills a particular need for consumers. Whether your product is a brand of potato chips, a household item like dishwasher soap, a hotel chain or a university, it’s essential that you have a clear grasp of what makes it unique before you can successfully market it.

Price: Once the product offering is established, you can make pricing decisions. Price determinations will impact profit margins, supply, demand and marketing strategy. Products and brands may need to be positioned differently based on varying price points.

Promotion: Once product and price are established, it’s time to promote it. Promotion looks at the many ways advertisers market to consumers and includes includes: advertising, public relations, social media, emails, search engine marketing, videos and more.

Place: Successful brands are all about putting the right product, at the right price, at the right place, at the right time. The mission is to convert interested consumers into actual customers. Today, the initial place potential clients engage is online.

Now, create your own brand using the 4 P’s

You are the PRODUCT, so begin by evaluating what makes you special. Ask yourself: Q. Are you dressing for your body? A. If you’re curvy and you love yoga pants, make sure you purchase high-quality yoga pants that aren’t see-through when you stretch or bend over. And consider the occasion before wearing them. If you’re going for a sophisticated look, slim fitting trouser pants may be a better fit. - If you have big chest, go for a v-neckline time. - No matter what the occasion: job interview, business trip, night out with friends or going to your kid’s soccer game, the items you pull together should communicate the same message. “There goes Susan; she always looks fabulous.”

Q. What colors work best for you? A. Navy or black works on just about everyone; here’s a few ways to make it yours: - If you’re going for a job interview, neutral is best. But a pop of color is a great way to express your personal brand. Whether a lush pink shirt under a dark blazer, a red velvet shirt with a black sweater, a dress accessorized with a fun pair of sneakers (only if you can pull off the look), or fun pair of pumps, your signature brand will emerge as you try things out and focus in on what works for you. - Hair can be a fantastic branding tool. If you’ve been blessed with a gorgeous mop, go with it. Hair is one of our best weapons. If you want to call out your inner artiste or you play in a rock band, pink or blue hair is okay. But it’s definitely not for everyone. Some work places, like design agencies, hair salons and big tech firms are amenable to this look. But if you work in a bank or a law firm, probably not. If you simply have to try it, there are always extensions. Remember, the look has to work on you. If you can pull off something like this, go for it…

Let’s talk about PRICE

What PRICE are you willing to accept for your talent, your contribution, your value, and your time? When I worked in marketing at a big corporation in my late 20′s, I met a woman who was hired to be a copywriter. She was actually a former agency owner and had a lot more to offer. The guy who hired her put her in a huge, open office setting where she wrote copy for retail projects such as in-store banners and such. She left after 2 weeks, but she also left an impression.

So, he called her back to see what it would take to hire her. She was polite, but firm. She said, “I’ll need my own office. I want to be paid twice the hourly fee you paid me, and I want to bring in my own creative talent (writers and designers) to work with.”

Done. She got what she asked for. Why? Because she knew what she was her value and had the confidence to ask for it.

Promoting yourself is a tricky business

PROMOTION today is about establishing your online presence. As we’ve seen lately, the cancel culture is a force to be reckoned with. And by that, I mean be careful with the topics you choose to address. It’s easy to be mocked, doxed and dropped from social media — all it takes is one wrong comment.

According to Forbes, “Your personal brand should be an easy daily filter that you create content and reach out to your audience with.” The article quotes Jason Wu, founder of CoinState. “Be the master of your craft, skillset or industry before starting a personal brand. Then your content will amplify who you are.”

In other words, avoid mistakes like the one made by Olivia Jade. She’s the daughter of actress Lori Loughlin who did prison time for getting her kids into college through false claims and a financial bribe. Olivia was a successful online fashion and culture blogger until her mother’s deceit landed on her. Then she made the mistake of using her social media platform to say that she really wasn’t at USC to attend classes. In the end, she lost followers, endorsements and a lot more.

The point? Have some experience under your belt before promoting your personal brand.

Have you found your PLACE?

It’s pointless to tell digital natives to avoid social media until they achieve some maturity. But, as the story above illustrates, social platforms are eternal, and establishing a trashy personal brand while young can come back to haunt you. So, parents need to keep a watchful eye on how kids are promoting themselves, knowing that colleges look carefully at this content.

When it comes to establishing a personal brand, there are tons of articles out there on how to do this. You can spend a day on Google and find lists like this:

What motivates me? What am I good at? What is unique about my personality, talents and style? What do I excel at? What bores me to tears? What do others say drew me to them?

All good and well. But here are a few constants we all encounter on the road to the true self:

Failure happens. You will lose jobs, face financial insecurity and have to reinvent your career. Some of the most successful women I’ve met in my life have transformed themselves as a result of loss. It’s only failure if you don’t get back up and re-start your engine.

La Jolie MLN launching in April 2021

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Website coming soon

: www.lajolie-mln.com

We would love to hear from you. Let us know your thoughts and any topics you would want to hear about. [email protected]

Next blog Jan 31: Doing Business By Doing Good

About Daisy Malek-Shadid

As a little girl, I would be asked what I want to be when I grow up. I would confidently reply, I want to be a clothing designer and a respected leader. Fast forward 30 years, after working in the corporate world, traveling, getting married and having children, the aspirations of my youth inspire me today. I want to create clothes that make women feel both feminine and powerful, beautiful and strong, sophisticated and elevated. It takes a moment to make a first impression. Dressing well sets the tone, so one can own that moment.

It is important to La Jolie MLN to give back to the community, to women who don’t have the same opportunity as others. And, for that reason, 10% of every purchase will go toward our goal to donate 100 dresses to Dress for Success, a non-for-profit organization that supports underprivileged women to achieve economic independence by providing various services - one of them professional attire for interviews and new employment. For more information about “Dress for Success” please visit their website at dressforsuccess.org.

#feminine power #brand #your value #4Ps #La Jolie MLN #MLN

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