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crack_van2013-08-11 04:03 pm
arsenicjade.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2013-08-11 04:03 pm
Entry tags:
Through the Glass by dentalfloss (teen and up)
Let's pretend I recced this on Friday, like I meant to...
Fandom: Avengers (2012)
Pairing: technically pre-slash for Clint/Coulson, but really just gen
Length: ~70,400
Author on LJ: Maybe? Idk.
Author Website: AO3 Dash
Why this must be read: I quibbled on this rec, not because it's not seriously brilliant, but because it doesn't contain the kind of recovery that I, personally, need in a fic. Then I told myself to get over myself, because this is ridiculously well executed and deserves to have one billion readers.
In this fic, through a series of events, Clint is held in indentured servitude of sort to SHIELD, but nobody at SHIELD knows that for years. This is an exceedingly good example of a fic about consent and agency, and the characters are all vivid in their own right.
"The glass is bullet-resistant," Coulson informed him after Clint apparently stared at the window a little too hard. Clint nodded sharply, as if that had been his concern (He'd been in this building for two years, he was well aware that the glass was bullet resistant and designed so that could not be seen. Even at night with the lights on Clint would be invisible to the outside world). "Your bedroom is through there, and the other door is your bathroom," the agent nodded at the doors sitting opposite the kitchenette. Clint pushed the bedroom door open, intent on tossing his bag somewhere inside, and missed the targeted bed as he saw the giant window pouring light into that room as well. He pretended the floor was exactly where he wanted his bag to land. "Questions?"
Clint turned with a frown and looked at his new handler.
"You didn't move me here to be closer to operations," he pointed out curtly. The problem was he couldn't figure out why he was here now. What were his new handlers motives? What was Clint going to have to do to keep these quarters?
Coulson's face did a little scrunched look of displeasure before the familiar calmness returned and his eyes flashed briefly to the window, before he turned his back on Clint and headed to the door.
"Hawks aren't meant to be locked away in the basement Agent Barton. Start reading the manual on the table" Clint didn't take his eyes off his handler as he opened the door, but he could see the thick book in his peripheral, "and report to training at oh-eight-hundred." He didn't wait for a sign of agreement, already pulling his phone out once again.
Through the Glass
Fandom: Avengers (2012)
Pairing: technically pre-slash for Clint/Coulson, but really just gen
Length: ~70,400
Author on LJ: Maybe? Idk.
Author Website: AO3 Dash
Why this must be read: I quibbled on this rec, not because it's not seriously brilliant, but because it doesn't contain the kind of recovery that I, personally, need in a fic. Then I told myself to get over myself, because this is ridiculously well executed and deserves to have one billion readers.
In this fic, through a series of events, Clint is held in indentured servitude of sort to SHIELD, but nobody at SHIELD knows that for years. This is an exceedingly good example of a fic about consent and agency, and the characters are all vivid in their own right.
"The glass is bullet-resistant," Coulson informed him after Clint apparently stared at the window a little too hard. Clint nodded sharply, as if that had been his concern (He'd been in this building for two years, he was well aware that the glass was bullet resistant and designed so that could not be seen. Even at night with the lights on Clint would be invisible to the outside world). "Your bedroom is through there, and the other door is your bathroom," the agent nodded at the doors sitting opposite the kitchenette. Clint pushed the bedroom door open, intent on tossing his bag somewhere inside, and missed the targeted bed as he saw the giant window pouring light into that room as well. He pretended the floor was exactly where he wanted his bag to land. "Questions?"
Clint turned with a frown and looked at his new handler.
"You didn't move me here to be closer to operations," he pointed out curtly. The problem was he couldn't figure out why he was here now. What were his new handlers motives? What was Clint going to have to do to keep these quarters?
Coulson's face did a little scrunched look of displeasure before the familiar calmness returned and his eyes flashed briefly to the window, before he turned his back on Clint and headed to the door.
"Hawks aren't meant to be locked away in the basement Agent Barton. Start reading the manual on the table" Clint didn't take his eyes off his handler as he opened the door, but he could see the thick book in his peripheral, "and report to training at oh-eight-hundred." He didn't wait for a sign of agreement, already pulling his phone out once again.
Through the Glass