Okay, somebody can correct me if I'm wrong- but at the end of The Nigerian Job, when the team was convincing Nate that they should keep doing what they did- Eliot's whole argument was Nate. Nate falling apart. Nate needing the chance. Nate not being able to walk away. Nate.
Then, suddenly Eliot became the whole team's body guard. (Something he's grunt and gruffed about.) Yet. Yet. Somewhere (I say it was The Iceman Job and The Inside Job,) Eliot's brain switched from protecting the team to protecting Hardison and Parker. (Again correct me if I'm wrong.) Suddenly his job became more about having Hardison and Parker's back than having Nate's back. Maybe I'm the only one whose noticed- but Eliot become more softer with both Hardison and Parker after those particular jobs. Sure he keeps that gruff, sarcastic wit about him but there's often tones of... protectivness(?) when he interacts with them. Almost like he's telling other people around them- whose in ear shot- that Hardison and Parker are his. Like he's possessive.
Now, I'm not saying Eliot just stops caring about the rest of the team. I mean- he beats up Sterling for Nate and in Redemption Eliot is following Sophie around a handful of times. Their are even times where he has Breanna's back and Harry's. But he seems to treat those situations like a case. He compartmentalizes those situations. With Hardison and Parker- he doesn't. It's like his brain won't let him. He sees Hardison and Parker and it's like- all bets are off.
And on the flip side- has anyone noticed that Parker and Hardison seem to be the only ones that know how to... defuse (is that the right word?) Eliot? Like even Maria couldn't get Eliot to relax in The Hurrican Job. (Of course that's probably because Eliot was hiding who he was to her.) But Eliot always seems to be more relaxed when he's around those two.
In The Iceman Job after when Hardison tries to hug him? Eliot wasn't really fighting it. (I would know- I do that to my brother ALL the time when he tries to hug me.) In The Inside Job- when Eliot went to attack that employee- Parker stopped him. In The Double-Edge Sword Job, when Eliot is furious because an abusive ex comes after a women that they tried to hide- it's Parker that calms him down. It's Hardison who pays off the bartender when Eliot attacks Sterling. It's Parker who is always by his side or close to it. It's Parker who trusts Eliot when their in the back of the van with Vance. (Yes, Parker trusts Hardison too, but Hardison is a hacker- not a protector.) It's Eliot who Hardison listens to when he's not confident. It's Eliot who grabs Hardison from the coffin. It's Eliot who crouchs behind Hardison as Parker flips around him. It's Eliot whose hands are shaking when he they have half a second on a bomb.
Eliot Spencer is Hardison's and Parkers. They own him. In the same way Hardison and Parker are his. He owns them. (Does that make sense?)
For the record- I don't know why I'm pointing all of this out. It's just interesting to me... I guess.
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stuff i wish people did when making a filipino character (part 1?)
disclaimer: i am by no means an expert, but i am a born and raised filipino so! take that as you will
actually make the filipino be born and raised in the philippines. there are very few filipinos that show just how beautiful (and, admittedly, toxic) the culture of the philippines can be in modern media, if AT ALL.
like lets talk about the toxicity of filipino culture -cause there is SO much to be said about how problematic the hierarchical family structure is of most filipino families. children are rarely given any agency, are spoiled in the early beginnings of their lives and then suddenly once theyre adults theyre expected to just know how to adult despite being sheltered their entire lives.
okay and lets not even get STARTED with religious trauma. there are actually quite a lot of filipino youth who are very very detached from the main religion here (catholicism) because of it. i cant speak for the muslim population of the philippines as they tend to live far from where i live, but what i do know is that a ton of us filipino youth have been traumatized from their experiences in catholic schools. like,,, the horror stories you will hear from this place are just sad.
but on the brighter side, lets talk about the casual gender neutrality of filipino culture. we have no gendered pronouns. at its best? the philippines is very liberal with how AMABs and AFABs can present - it's, of course, still shunned upon to dress like the opposite sex, but among the younger generations, its SO common to see AMABs wearing makeup and skirts and heels and AFABs having short, masculine looking haircuts. oh, and the philippine drag scene is absolutely amazing!! if you want an easy gateway into queer Filipino media, ph drag race shows are the way to go
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Happy Valentine's Day @artsy-azure ! Here's your gift for the @milgram-valentines-exchange 💖
Fuuta x Minato (oc) ~ The first section takes place right after his T2 interrogation, and then skips ahead to a tiny post-milgram scene :3 I hope you enjoy!
Fuuta thought he would drown. Not sink into water or anything like that; he was worried the voices filling his mind would completely suffocate him. There were too many of them. Too many people, all of them knowing every dark corner of his mind, and shouting into it. It should have been impossible for one voice – one softer than all the rest – to reach him.
Then again, everything about that voice should have been impossible.
“Fuuta… Hey, Fuuta… Are you alright?”
He blinked. He scrambled over to the nearest wall. There were no visible openings in the cell, not a single imperfection across any of the surfaces, yet Milgram’s intercom system functioned just fine. Most days it would just deliver the ear-rattling bell to tell him the time. On bad days, it carried Es’ summons to the interrogation room for his extraction. On worse days, it carried Es’ summons to the courtroom for his verdict.
On the very best days, it would bring him the voice of Hoshizawa Minato.
(Though, seeing as he had just returned from a catastrophic extraction, he wasn’t sure what type of day it was yet.)
He tore his attention away from the chorus of judgements and insults. He pressed his shoulder against the wall, still unsure where the sound was coming from, but knowing it was nearby.
“I’m here,” he said, hushed. More than anything he wanted to yell and scream, but he would never risk it, now. Minato had gone through a hell of a lot to break into Milgram’s systems, and he wouldn’t let his big mouth ruin all that. It had already ruined just about everything else.
“How are you holding up?”
Fuuta pressed his lips together. “Any news on getting us out of here?” was all he said.
Hundreds of miles away (or perhaps next door – neither of them could really know), Minato’s fingers adjusted his headset.
“I’m still working on it. These things take time.”
“I’m definitely gonna need it after today.”
“Your interrogation… I know.”
Fuuta pulled his hood down tighter, tufts of ginger hair ruffling underneath. “How much did you see?”
Minato’s eyes flicked over to another monitor. It displayed the files he’d gained access to a few hours prior. It would crush Fuuta to hear about yet another person peeking into his personal moments, so he opted for a non-answer.
“I don’t have cameras. I don’t see much at all.”
“Tch, I’m not a damn idiot, I know that! I meant, how much did you hear?”
“...Everything.”
Fuuta squeezed his eye shut. He bit a curse back. There came silence.
Minato actually double checked some of his monitors, making sure they hadn’t been disconnected.
“So then, you know,” Fuuta said at last. “There’s no fucking way I’m getting forgiven this time around.”
“You can’t be so sure. The–”
“No one in their right mind would forgive me after that.” He winced, remembering his harsh cries at the end of the interrogation. What kind of accused murderer shouted “I’ll kill you” as their plea of innocence? When he wasn’t running his mouth with threats, he’d been pleading with Es like some kind of coward. And Minato has heard all of it. Fuuta could only imagine the horrors that the extraction held. Who could forgive him after they saw his anger, or worse, his pleasure? Who could ever look kindly on someone like that?
“I would.”
Fuuta’s eyes widened. He let himself sink further into the wall. A strangled laugh escaped him. He let his head hang down. No matter how much he wanted to protest, Minato was as honest as they come. If he said he forgave Fuuta, he meant it.
“Yeah, like I said, no one in their right mind.”
Minato cracked a smile.
“You don’t think I’m in my right mind?”
Fuuta scoffed. “You post pictures of clothes for a living. And in your free time, you plan impossible jailbreaks for murderers. Doesn’t sound quite sane to me.”
“Aw, come on. Do you think it’s impossible?”
Minato was still smirking, ready for some more of their typical back and forth. Fuuta surprised him by pausing.
“Well, it should be impossible. But…”
They’d been speaking for some time now. Whether it was quick comments when Es wasn’t around or long conversations into the night. Fuuta had seen many sides of him, and knew that he had what it took. He wasn’t like the vast majority of internet personalities – weak or needy or inexperienced. He’d proved himself time and time again. If anyone could pull this off, it would be Minato.
“If it’s you… there’s a chance.”
“You’ve got that right. You can count on me, alright?”
Fuuta took a deep breath. The tightness of the uniform and the bandages seemed to lessen.
“Although,” Minato put on a falsely serious voice, “we’re gonna have a long talk when you get out… about that yellow jacket you own.”
“Haaah? What’s wrong with my jacket?’
“There are a hundred stylish ways to wear it and that was not one.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“You’ll be grateful when someone who ‘posts pictures of clothes for a living’ helps with your wardrobe.”
Fuuta could feel his chest release even more. Minato spoke so easily about the future, as if it were something real and waiting for him.
“As if I’d let you touch any of my outfits.”
“As if you could stop me!”
He took another breath. He smiled. No drowning today.
---
After checking the clock fourteen times, Fuuta thought once more couldn’t hurt. It was still two minutes to noon, just like the last few times he’d checked. His frequent checking hadn’t brought the train to the station any faster.
Minato had told him that he was safe. He’d said this meeting wasn’t that big of a risk. The dust had settled. He just had to relax.
The announcement overhead signaled the next stop was his. It screeched into the station, a slight murmur rising as the doors opened onto a platform of moving people.
Fuuta lowered his head. His eyepatch would surely draw attention to himself, so he kept his hood down and his mask up. He just needed to make it to the station entrance.
He made his way around stiff businessmen and sticky children. He tried to shuffle around a young man, but he seemed to step further into Fuuta’s path. Giving the stranger a quick glance, he started to mumble something to squeeze past.
“Fuuta,” the man said, gaping in surprise. “It’s me.”
He inhaled sharply.
It was only three words, but it was enough to recognize his voice from a thousand conversations.
Fuuta’s eye widened as he took Minato in. It was strange to finally see his face. Finally, here was the person he’d spent hours talking to. The person he’d spent days passing the time with. The person he’d spent nights falling for. Here was the one who had saved his life, in more ways than he could count.
His first observation was, fuck, this guy is way outta my league. His next was, he’s shorter than I was expecting. Then, gah, I’m probably shorter than he was expecting. He was in the middle of realizing, he has the nicest smile I think I’ve ever seen, when Minato crushed him in a hug.
Fuuta returned the embrace. His arms tightened around Minato. He was real. He was here. Fuuta’s hands grasped at his clothes and his hair. He was unable to control a laugh bubbling up inside of him.
“You did it. My god, you did it.”
He breathed into Minato’s shoulder. His chest shook with some laughter, some tears.
For a moment wondered if people would notice the heartfelt reunion outside of the train, then he realized he didn’t care in the slightest.
Minato was laughing along with him in that beautiful, familiar voice of his. No more crackling speakers or hidden intercoms – he spoke right into his ear, hair tickling his cheek. Fuuta could have stayed forever in his arms, just like that. All that mattered was he felt safe. At last, he felt happy.
Talk about impossible.
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doesn't tintin always speak french because he visits colonies
Not necessarily. Of all the countries he visits, the only ones I can think of that would be French or Belgian colonies are Congo and Morocco (Bagghar, while fictional, is said to be located in this country). Shanghai had a French concession, though whether that's the one that Tintin visits (as opposed to the British concession for example) or not is unclear. And he does visit French-speaking countries in Europe (Switzerland and France) where he presumably is speaking French. But they're far from being the only ones he visits.
As for the other countries he goes to, some are English colonies (Egypt, India) or former colonies (US), so I don't think they'd necessarily speak French there. Not to mention that he also visits South America a couple of times and the characters from the countries he goes to are shown to speak Spanish (think of General Alcazar exclaiming "Caramba!" or Zorrino calling him "señor"). It's not a stretch to believe that there might be people who speak French there, but it certainly wouldn't be the norm. I doubt the Incas were speaking French, tbh.
For the fictional countries, it's harder to say. Khemed could have at some point been a French colony, but it's never specified, and both Syldavia and Borduria have their own (possibly Salvic?) language, though again, it's possible that they know some French (King Muskar might have spoken French, for example, it having been the language of European courts for centuries).
Anyways, aside from all that, both Tintin and Haddock canonically speak English; it's especially obvious in the French version of Tintin in Tibet, where Tintin actually switches to English to ask for directions and Haddock asks some kids if he can eat the peppers in English.
It does admittedly suggest that they do speak French most of the time and that switching to English is notable enough to be written out explicitly, though it's hard to say for sure. But Tintin definitely doesn't only visit francophone colonies, so if he's speaking French, it's not (solely) because of that. It's more likely just something that we're supposed to ignore as readers.
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