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[be_compromised]
16 November 2012 @ 10:21 am
Turn That Cliche On It's Head: Comment Fic-a-thon Friday!!  
So a little over a month ago we discussed fanon clichés and why we love them. Some were fandom-wide favourites, others were new to many shippers but embraced just the same! So there is no denying that there seem to be some general themes among the general Clint/Natasha shipper's headcanon.

This Friday, I say we flex our imaginations and writing muscles and jot down a drabble that has Clint/Natasha going AGAINST the popular fanon consensus. (OPPOSITE DAY!)

Now, I don't mean AU fics, please keep their characterization and background the same, because obviously some things are set in stone. But it would be a neat way to challenge yourself while still exploring these characters and their relationship, because sometimes using fanon clichés is a a bit of a short-cut.


Some ideas to show you what I mean:

What if Clint actually HATES country music/rock n' roll or the stereotypical midwestern Americana trappings - because it reminds him of his early life in the circus/when he moved around a lot and so he actually prefers the anonymity of urban areas and the security of having one reliable bed/home base on the heli-carrier. Maybe Clint is actually more comfortable in more European settings because there are less memories there.

What if Natasha refuses to let Clint sew her up on the job because his stitches are sloppy and she can't afford to have visible scars when so many of her missions require revealing clothing.

What if Natasha is not at all turned on by caveman!Clint (and kinda resents it because she can defend herself) but prefers sophisticate!Clint in a tux.

What if Natasha realises she's in love with Clint during a boring, regular Thursday afternoon when she catches him stocking the fridge with her favourite food.

What if Clint is the more level-headed of the two because he's always so removed from the action. Clint is a SNIPER. Someone who lies in wait for days, never moving from his objective and sees the big picture. Natasha must think on her feet and might be more rash to rush into things.

Popular clichés/tropes included (but were not limited to):
+ Natasha drinks vodka/tea
+ Clint drinks bourbon/whisky/beer
+ Clint is a handyman/mechanic - especially to a treasured classic car or motorcycle
+ Clint likes country music or classic rock
+ Natasha is oblivious to popular culture
+ Clint has a never-ending list of nicknames for Natasha & team
+ One of them realizes their love after the other is shot/steps in front of a bullet for them (or some other epic near-death encounter that forces one of them to face their feelings)
+ Clint being in love with Natasha almost from the day they met
+ They don't act on their feelings for years
+ Natasha is a ballet dancer
+ Clint can play the guitar/sing
+ Natasha is very reserved/has a dry wit and is slow to warm to the team
+ Clint is a good cook and Natasha is not
+ They both hate hospitals
+ Natasha has never had sex off the job/for fun until Clint
+ Natasha has never had anyone go down on her until Clint
+ They have multiple safe-houses around the world
+ Clint gets kidnapped all the time
+ They keep separate rooms but share a bed every night/have trouble sleeping without the other
+ Natasha doesn't have any other close friendships on the team
+ Clint is intelligent but does not flaunt it
+ Natasha doesn't cry in front of people
+ Natasha is the more cautious of the two of them
+ Natasha doesn't sleep with her marks
+ Natasha doesn't want a relationship/Clint falls in love first and must wait for her
+ They like watching bad action movies
+ Having different definitions for the words "love", "partner" and "children"
+ Clint knows as many foreign languages as Natasha
+ Red Room has done something to Natasha so she cannot have children


So I encourage you to pick a cliché from the list (or think of your own, perhaps a pattern you've noticed in a bunch of fic) and then TURN IT ON IT'S HEAD. NOTE: this is not an attempt to shame or harsh the squee of people who love or have written fic using the clichés above (hell, I'm guilty of both!) so please NO BASHING. This is meant to be a FUN CHALLENGE and I hope everyone in this bar enjoys it!

Please write your title, cliché, rating and any warnings at the top of the comment (or in the subject line if applicable) IN BOLD FONT. Try and post the entire work in the comment (if it's short enough), or if not, post a link. Multiple people can take on the same cliché.
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[identity profile] frea-o.livejournal.com on November 16th, 2012 07:51 pm (UTC)
Your wish is my command.

Pepper didn’t like the Helicarrier, not as a rule. If she was on the Helicarrier, it meant Tony had been hurt. If Tony was hurt, that meant weeks of trying to keep him from buying Campbell’s so his suggestions of ingredients to add to the chicken noodle soup were taken seriously. Thankfully the company owner had something of a sense of humor and could be bought off with a week in the Gstaad chalet, but Pepper couldn’t deny that it was a pain.

But today, she’d come along because Steve had called up while they were in mid-flight, asking for Tony’s advice. They’d been in the neighborhood, so while Tony was off playing with his friends, Pepper had found an abandoned office and turned it into hers for a couple of hours.

A successful merger and two brokered deals later, she popped her neck to ease some of the tension. Vague hunger rumbled in her stomach as she looked around—what was up with SHIELD? Why was everything so blue and gray? They needed an interior decorator—and wondered where Tony had gone. She should probably find out.

The pleasant-efficient-and-scary assistant that had been sitting at the desk outside of her borrowed office, however, wasn’t there when she poked her head out. Curious, Pepper stepped out of the office and began to wander down the hallways, looking for anybody that might be able to tell her where Tony was. The first two doors led to empty rooms, but the third led to some sort of a kitchenette.

There were several women gathered inside, including the missing assistant. To Pepper’s surprise, Natasha was leaning with one elbow on the water cooler against the wall as the woman next to her argued with one of the women at the table. “But we can’t know that,” the woman, whom Pepper recognized as Maria Hill, said. “It’s from Perez Hilton. You know he can’t be trusted.”

“And, c’mon, you know he’s just a fame who—oh, Pepper.” Natasha gave her a startlingly charming grin. She looked around at the other women in the room. “Busted.”

“Natasha, hi. I was going to ask if you’d seen Tony, but I suddenly find myself losing interest in finding him. Besides, if I don’t know where he is, I can theoretically make myself believe he’s not getting into trouble.”

“Oh, optimism,” Maria Hill said.

“Stay, have a cup of coffee,” Natasha said. She seemed much more relaxed than Pepper was used to seeing her. It probably had to do with the lack of men in armor surrounding her at the moment. “We’re just talking about LiLo.”

“Who?” Pepper asked.

“Lindsay Lohan,” one of the other women said. “Perez Hilton leaked a rumor she’s taking up with Ryan Gosling.”

Pepper wondered what sort of supervillain would call herself Lindsay Lohan.

“Puh-lease,” Natasha said. “As if Gosling would ever look twice at that.”

“He could look twice at me, if he wanted,” Maria said. It was only when the rest of the women cracked up, offering much bawdier suggestions for what Ryan Gosling could do to them, that Pepper put it together that they were discussing celebrity gossip. It made her reevaluate everything she knew about Natalie/Natasha Rushman, nee Romanoff.

Once she’d gathered up Tony and their jet and they were in flight once more, Pepper used her Starkphone to look up Ryan Gosling, and found she quite agreed.