So, tumblr kind of broke my sidekick. Moggie warned a few people that she was going to come home from Vegas with some photos, and that they were required to humor her by nodding and smiling when she showed them off. Then she posted ours to tumblr, and as of now, it's got just under 800 notes. And one of the rebloggers translated her caption into Portuguese. She was past confusion and well into giggling hysterically at the insanity of the internet when I pointed that out.
All of the good commentary happens down in the hashtags, Moggie tells me, and in one of them someone's commented on my intro, something like 'haha that's just what misha would want to hear'. Well, yes. That's why I said it. Just because these things are off-the-cuff doesn't mean they're completely random.
First and foremost, I wanted Moggie to not implode. I talk to strangers. My main function when we're together in crowds is to flit forth like a twittery, attention-grabbing canary. Which sounds like a lovely analogy, until I finish it by pointing out that I do this so that sturdy collier Moggie will be reassured that nothing out there in the mine is going to kill her. I used to tie myself in knots trying to get people to talk to the both of us equally, until she finally sat me down and explained that she liked being invisible, and I needed to knock that off. She dubbed herself my sidekick, because, in superhero terms, that means nobody bothers shooting at her. Moggie does perfectly fine in off-script social interactions, but she doesn't think she does; I don't have that particular phobia, but believe me, I know from irrational unstoppable anxiety, and I have a mouth on me anyway. I did the greeting because Mog was afraid she'd go 'gug' and then get stuck.
I warned them that she was shy because the three of them are pretty good at fan-wrangling, and part of being good at fan-wrangling is not making people kerplode of nerves when they meet you. I'm kind of not surprised that Jensen decided to be responsible for the nervous one. Personal demonstrations that prove he knows all the words to "Ice Ice Baby" notwithstanding, he's by far the quietest of the three. And just because of their genuinely brotherly dynamic, I figured that Jensen would mock-protect Mog if Jared tried to mock-maul her, which would also have been more than acceptable, as it probably would not have resulted in the death of my Watson.
The other half of that had pretty much exactly the result I expected. If you spend any time watching Misha Collins at all, you'll notice he's very physical. He's mentioned, in fact, that Castiel's habit of standing practically on people's feet comes partly from something he used to get complained at for when he was younger. You know he's hit his stride in a con appearance when he starts trying to make out with his friends on stage -- he's developed a habit of getting Rob Benedict with this, with a fair amount of success. He doesn't flail around doing this to strangers mainly because he's learned it startles and discomfits people. It's a tug-of-war sometimes; there was one rather young girl at Vegascon who had a hard time getting her panel question out, and he was visibly torn between going down there and hugging her better, and realizing that his proximity was kind of the problem and staying where he was.
In short, mainly what Misha needs is permission. Which I gave him. He telegraphs and everything; it's not like I couldn't see it coming. I actually had a sneaking suspicion I might be gotten by the hair if I decided to make myself the distraction, which is why I had it plaited and thrown forwards over my shoulder to begin with. The long swishy braid is a great temptation to many people (and cats, and small rodents looking for a way to climb onto Mommy's head), and I figured I was either going to be Rapunzel-kidnapped or just scooped off my feet and swung around. Binding my hair up means less time disentangling the unwary afterwards.
Just for the record, he looked delighted to be handed an opening like that. I pretty much gave him carte blanche, dared him to take it, and did it in a way that indicated that I was aware of what the game was and that the bulk of the rules for it consisted of 'don't do anything that would horrify the photographer'. There was quite a lot of back and forth, for an exchange so quick: I told him he was allowed to manhandle me for entertainment purposes, he made sure that was actually what I was saying, I told him it was, and it resulted in a photo that tumblr apparently finds quite amusing.
Upon further reflection, I would guess that all this was not necessarily obvious to other people. That the photo assistant worried I was going to tip over suggests she thought I was knocked off-balance, either in the sense of being surprised or in the sense of gravity taking over. I thought it was a perfectly clear conversation, myself. I went and pushed a button he keeps right out front and well-marked because he would like people to push that button, please and thank you. If this isn't how other people conduct their social negotiations, then I'm rather at a loss.
All of the good commentary happens down in the hashtags, Moggie tells me, and in one of them someone's commented on my intro, something like 'haha that's just what misha would want to hear'. Well, yes. That's why I said it. Just because these things are off-the-cuff doesn't mean they're completely random.
First and foremost, I wanted Moggie to not implode. I talk to strangers. My main function when we're together in crowds is to flit forth like a twittery, attention-grabbing canary. Which sounds like a lovely analogy, until I finish it by pointing out that I do this so that sturdy collier Moggie will be reassured that nothing out there in the mine is going to kill her. I used to tie myself in knots trying to get people to talk to the both of us equally, until she finally sat me down and explained that she liked being invisible, and I needed to knock that off. She dubbed herself my sidekick, because, in superhero terms, that means nobody bothers shooting at her. Moggie does perfectly fine in off-script social interactions, but she doesn't think she does; I don't have that particular phobia, but believe me, I know from irrational unstoppable anxiety, and I have a mouth on me anyway. I did the greeting because Mog was afraid she'd go 'gug' and then get stuck.
I warned them that she was shy because the three of them are pretty good at fan-wrangling, and part of being good at fan-wrangling is not making people kerplode of nerves when they meet you. I'm kind of not surprised that Jensen decided to be responsible for the nervous one. Personal demonstrations that prove he knows all the words to "Ice Ice Baby" notwithstanding, he's by far the quietest of the three. And just because of their genuinely brotherly dynamic, I figured that Jensen would mock-protect Mog if Jared tried to mock-maul her, which would also have been more than acceptable, as it probably would not have resulted in the death of my Watson.
The other half of that had pretty much exactly the result I expected. If you spend any time watching Misha Collins at all, you'll notice he's very physical. He's mentioned, in fact, that Castiel's habit of standing practically on people's feet comes partly from something he used to get complained at for when he was younger. You know he's hit his stride in a con appearance when he starts trying to make out with his friends on stage -- he's developed a habit of getting Rob Benedict with this, with a fair amount of success. He doesn't flail around doing this to strangers mainly because he's learned it startles and discomfits people. It's a tug-of-war sometimes; there was one rather young girl at Vegascon who had a hard time getting her panel question out, and he was visibly torn between going down there and hugging her better, and realizing that his proximity was kind of the problem and staying where he was.
In short, mainly what Misha needs is permission. Which I gave him. He telegraphs and everything; it's not like I couldn't see it coming. I actually had a sneaking suspicion I might be gotten by the hair if I decided to make myself the distraction, which is why I had it plaited and thrown forwards over my shoulder to begin with. The long swishy braid is a great temptation to many people (and cats, and small rodents looking for a way to climb onto Mommy's head), and I figured I was either going to be Rapunzel-kidnapped or just scooped off my feet and swung around. Binding my hair up means less time disentangling the unwary afterwards.
Just for the record, he looked delighted to be handed an opening like that. I pretty much gave him carte blanche, dared him to take it, and did it in a way that indicated that I was aware of what the game was and that the bulk of the rules for it consisted of 'don't do anything that would horrify the photographer'. There was quite a lot of back and forth, for an exchange so quick: I told him he was allowed to manhandle me for entertainment purposes, he made sure that was actually what I was saying, I told him it was, and it resulted in a photo that tumblr apparently finds quite amusing.
Upon further reflection, I would guess that all this was not necessarily obvious to other people. That the photo assistant worried I was going to tip over suggests she thought I was knocked off-balance, either in the sense of being surprised or in the sense of gravity taking over. I thought it was a perfectly clear conversation, myself. I went and pushed a button he keeps right out front and well-marked because he would like people to push that button, please and thank you. If this isn't how other people conduct their social negotiations, then I'm rather at a loss.
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