#i really hate it when people make comments on other peoples appearance as a punchline of sorts?? like what even is the joke there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence.

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos.

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.”

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him.

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table. He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop.

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock.

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really.

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in.

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit.

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill.

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom.

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT” /end ID]

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin.

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left.

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left.

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand.

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID]

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #kye writes

18 notes · View notes

thetriggeredhappy · 4 years

Note

Hi!! I love your work sm dude! QwQ Your Running Blind series is legitmately incredible! (It had me crying hadhs) I always get super excited whenever you talk about it or update it, Taking Shots is so creative and funny and sweet just AAGH I love it so much- It is probably my favourite fanfic in this entire fandom. If you are at all taking requests, I would like to ask if you could do an EngieSpy fic with Spy knowing exactly how to get Engie all flustered cus I think that would be cute -w- Ty!

ahgfdsj don’t mind that this took forever,,,, here’s some cheesy cheesy romance ft. a cheesy romantic

(no warnings)

Dell Conagher was a 45 year old man. He had more degrees than fingers (including the false ones) and a considerable amount of respect and acclaim in the wide majority of academic communities. And besides that, he made himself a formidable opponent in combat, taking no prisoners and becoming a tactical nightmare to deal with, able to push and direct in a way that others couldn’t do so effectively single-handedly.

So you’d think that there wasn’t much that would leave him flustered, but figures—there were people who could fluster bigshots like him just as much as there were people to fluster your average Joe. Maybe he should consider it a humbling experience, but he was plenty humble already.

What he hated was that it was so predictable of him, the things that made him blush. Nothing unusual—some of the other members of the team had initially assumed from his accent and general demeanor that surely he would balk and blush at more risqué jokes and shenanigans, but he could swear and chuckle just as much as the rest of them. And while he occasionally got fired up over things, he didn’t tend to get hot when he got angry so much as stern and then very much cold.

No, what got him to stammer and make a damn fool of himself was just the thing that not many people had the guts to do to him over the course of his life—goopy, sappy, extremely romantic displays.

Just his luck that he’d fall for a Frenchman.

Part of what got him so flustered—and therefore more frustrated with himself—was the fact that he was smart enough to figure out that it probably took an awful lot of work to do the things Spy did for him. He didn’t know of a good florist in a hundred mile radius of their base, and Spy had ranted about it enough that he’d also gathered there were no particularly good wineries around either. And you probably had to take a class to get as good as Spy at decoration and whatnot, surely, and cooking too. Setting a whole table and room and making a romantic dinner with wine older than his grandad with a whole bouquet as a centerpiece, well, it must’ve taken Spy all day, or, or maybe even weeks of planning and plotting and scheming—

And he tried to dissuade Spy from going to all that trouble, every time he pulled off some stunt like that. Shook his head and called him a sentimental old fool. But it never made Spy’s grin budge, maybe because Spy could tell the comment reflected right back onto the Engineer too. And he didn’t let up.

Instead he walked straight up to the Engineer and took his right hand, bending at the waist and lifting his hand to lay a brief but meaningful kiss on his knuckles, and already Dell was flushing, even before Spy got to the verbal part of his greeting. “Hello, mon cher Monsieur Conagher,” he said, smirking a little.

“I can’t feel that, you know,” he reminded, keeping his voice level and glancing between his gloved hand and Spy’s face.

“Oh? I’d disagree,” Spy purred, and guided him a half step forward before kissing each knuckle in turn one more time in succession. “I’d say you must be feeling something, at least.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked, brows furrowing just a touch.

“Why else would you be so red?” Spy teased, the slightest further uptick at the corner of his mouth, and the Engineer huffed, pulling back his hand and looking away.

“Hush, you,” he muttered, flustered, moreso as that just made Spy laugh.

“Mon cher, don’t tell me this makes you embarrassed,” Spy said, looking well amused by the idea.

“Well, you’re the one making a damn fool of the both of us, right where anyone on the team could see,” Dell pointed out.

Spy raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of asking me to stop?” he asked.

“Well—yes! It is!” he said, even though a significant portion of him immediately protested.

“Understood,” Spy said, and the word was tailed by a little grin that told him he’d just gotten himself waist-deep in some new kind of trouble.

He waited for the kicker, when Spy did immediately stop with the showy displays of affection and admiration. The punchline ended up showing up relatively quickly in the form of a bouquet in a vase there on a workbench right in the middle of his workshop, unannounced and unprompted, without even a note. But he knew who it was from, even if he had no idea when Spy snuck past his security—or how long Spy had known how to sneak past his security.

And after that first gift, he found others cropping up in similar fashions for a while—most often flowers, and occasionally wine, chocolate, other luxury goods he’d never buy for himself but couldn’t help but be delighted by when he received them as a gift, especially from his lover. They appeared occasionally in his workshop, or sometimes beside the coffee maker (presumably because he tended to be the first one there, the first one awake in the morning). And the one thing he could count himself being lucky about was the fact that Spy didn’t seem to be there to catch how it made him blush, every single time.

He tried to bring it up, when he and Spy were together, and Spy perfectly feigned ignorance and misunderstanding, as well as confusion and amusement. He stopped bringing it up, knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere.

And then one day, for reasons he didn’t understand, the gifts shifted. He still got roses and flowers, usually just in time to replace the previous bouquet in the vase that had made a home in his workshop (although moved somewhere they would be less of a fire hazard). But less often did he get the wine and chocolates and similar classic romantic fare. Instead he found, occasionally, that he would glance up from his work in the workshop at the clock on the wall, and he would realize he’d worked straight through dinner again, and he’d curse his iron-clad focus for a moment before his eyes fell to the counter below the clock to land on a plate containing a full and well-rounded meal, covered in plastic so as to protect it from sawdust or similar mess.

He found that, suddenly and for reasons he couldn’t immediately explain, he tended to have leftovers waiting, labeled with his name, in the fridge despite him not having put them there. He found the shirt he’d discarded as a lost cause after a bad tear washed and stitched cleanly and sitting on top of his pile of clean laundry. He found a spare set of new laces just when he started to wonder if the ones in his boots needed replacing, and his supply of water bottles he kept near his station to stave off dehydration mysteriously never getting any emptier.

And for some reason that flustered him all the more, because flowers and wine and kisses on the back of the hand were nice, were a lovely display to think of and accomplish. But to be thinking of him so often, to notice such tiny details and to keep on top of them and to fix them—without even saying anything, at that! To notice those things meant that Spy was thinking of him so much more than he expected, than he’d ever feel right expecting, was more than he could ever ask from any partner and it just...

He found himself bringing it up one day, chest filled to the bursting and needing somewhere for it to go. He and Spy were sitting together in the smoking room, and Spy had some album playing—worn enough by then that Dell could just barely understand it well enough to parse out that it wasn’t English. Whatever it was, it was low and soothing and non-distracting and filled the room just as much as the warmth of the fire and the lingering smell of exotic spices from some point in the past.

Stronger was the smell of Spy’s cologne, though, there sat next to him, warm against his shoulder. He couldn’t tell much about what it was that Spy was reading, just that it looked to be a play of some kind based on the spacing of phrases, and that it was in Russian. He was sure his own reading was probably significantly less interesting, just being the order form for the next month’s shipment of parts that he needed to parse through.

Easy to get distracted from, was a way he could refer to it. Easy to stop thinking about it and to instead think about the man leaning against him.

“Spy?” he asked softly.

“Hm?” Spy hummed, looking up from his book.

“Why do you keep doing things for me?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Spy smirked.

“I’m being serious,” Dell said, voice still quiet.

Spy’s expression didn’t so much fall as it did relax. “Are you?” he asked. “Isn’t it obvious?”

When Dell just frowned, Spy deigned to elaborate.

“I do these things because I care about you, mon cher,” he said simply. “To make you happy, because I want you to be happy, because I care about you and you deserve to be happy. If I’m not doing a good job, correct me so I can do better.”

“It’s not that,” he said quickly, and hesitated. “I just, I don’t understand—“

“—What, why I care? Why you deserve to be happy?” he asked outright, and maybe that was it. Maybe that really was all. And maybe it showed on his face. “Laborer, have you considered that your reluctance to accept my gifts and acts of appreciation are because you’re uncomfortable with the idea of someone holding you to such high value in such a real and tangible way?”

“I—I don’t—that’s—“ he stammered, face going red.

“That perhaps others caring about and valuing you has been either a distant dream or something you imagined to be a reality because you needed the morale to get through the day, and now your mind and emotions are significantly freed up and you don’t quite know what to do with yourself, which is something both new and intimidating for you, someone who always tries to be so in control of your own life?”

“Why the sudden psychoanalysis?” he managed, feeling more than a little bit tense.

“Because I have a feeling you intended for this conversation to be your asking me to not do things for you because you feel you don’t deserve them, and quite frankly I’m stubborn enough that you will never change my mind,” Spy said, and leaned in to kiss him, an ice pack on a sucker punch, startling and disorienting and...

And nice.

When Spy pulled back, he seemed to see the disorientation, and he smiled. “It’s alright that you don’t know what to do yet. It’s alright if you never know. I simply enjoy doing these things for you, as often as I can without treading on your toes or making you feel smothered.”

“You never do,” Dell assured with the part of his brain that was still functioning.

Spy kissed him on the cheek gently. “You are very sweet, Dell Conagher,” he said simply.

“Me? You’re the one who—“

“Shush,” Spy laughed, and gave him another peck. “Just accept that making you happy is what makes me happy, oui? Is that such a strange thing to ask?”

“It feels like it,” Dell admitted.

“Well, perhaps the millionth time I say it, it won’t,” Spy teased.

“You’ll say that a million times?” he asked, incredulous.

“I’ll say it as many times as you’ll tolerate. I’ll say it on the hour every day until you get entirely tired of me or die, whichever comes first—or perhaps at the exact same moment. I’ll learn every language on the planet and say it in each and every one until you can repeat it back to me fluently. Because, mon cher, I mean it, and when I mean something, there isn’t a soul on the planet who can stop me from making it absolutely clear that I mean it, not even the person I love most in the world and his ridiculous, skewed lack of ego. Do you understand?”

The Engineer kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and yeah, he understood. He really did. And maybe Spy was right—maybe he would believe it someday. Maybe someone that stubborn was the only type of person who could convince him.

Time would tell.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #engiespy #napoleon complex #shut up me #my fanfiction #everybody talks #this be some Gay Shit #also thank you!!

85 notes · View notes

zoe-oneesama · 5 years

Note

So what are your *actual* thoughts on Chloe? They seem pretty cynical to me, and like you're just using her for the lovesquare in your AU lol. Its weird, because I can tell you are opinionated about her, but. It also puts me on edge because then again, you *are* criticizing a 14 y/o harshly rather than blaming the misogyny in her writing. What made me send this ask was your reply w/ Gabriel (really, fucking candy-cane looking grown MAN!!) and Marinette criticizing her appearance of all things.

Of fucking COURSE there’s misogyny in the writing, but Astruc made it pretty clear from Day 1 he didn’t like her (he’s tweeted she’s the dumbest character in the whole show) so I wasn’t exactly holding out hope for her anyway. She’s been a 2 dimensional Mean School Bully from the beginning and never got much deeper than that (no matter how many Tragic Backstories they tack onto her). She’s a walking cliche amped up to 11, they didn’t USE to pretend she was anything more.

And she’s 14, not a 6 year old. She knows right from wrong at this point, even if she refuses to face or admit it. The only advantage of being 14 is that she DOES still have time to change her ways, but the freaking show just won’t do it asdlkjfkalsdfjas

And I’ve talked about my feelings on canonical Chloe before, so check those out, but I never really brought up my AU in it so I’ll circle back to that. (I also wrote that when I think only Chameleon or Weredad was out, so Season 3 Chloe isn’t mentioned) but TLDR, She’s the character I loved to hate (like a Disney Villain. Like Gaston. Fun to watch, but you’re not like rooting for them.) And then Season 2 came and just ruined her by instead treating the situation like it was everyone around Chloe who had to change instead of Chloe herself, so she got to stay awful and entitled and instead of being shamed for it she was rewarded. 0/10.

If they kept her 2dimensional, if they never tried to deepen her character or convince us to feel sorry for her despite the fact she’s an asshole, I wouldn’t complain about Chloe. She’d be that savage character that by the end of the episode gets nothing because she sucks.

If they did her redemption RIGHT and had her own up to her mistakes and take attempts to make up for them, I wouldn’t complain about Chloe. Redemption Arcs, while not suitable for every character, are a very liked trope and can be so interesting and relatable! No one was perfect as a kid or teenager or even young adult, so it’s exhilarating to see these characters change to become better because it gives you hope!

But they didn’t do either of these things. They waffled. So when I saw the end of Season 2, I was fed up. And there was a cool little prompt idea that made me think of a fun idea.

What if Chloe accidentally ended up with the Ladybug Miraculous at the beginning of the series?

No Ladybug to look up to and emulate. No Ladybug to curb her worst moments and convince her to be a better person. No Ladybug to aspire to impress. Just Season 1 Chloe given even more power and prestige. And I thought it could be hilarious.

Back to season 1 Chloe that I loved to root against. Back to season 1 Chloe who was fun and didn’t insult my intelligence by trying to get me to feel sorry for her. Back to season 1 Chloe that I loved to hate.

And that’s what she’s for. She’s moving the plot forward, she’s offering up punchlines, she’s getting us and the other characters from point A to point B and making people laugh on the way. Like a character.

The LoveSquare in my AU is it’s own entity and is only being reshaped by the premise of the AU itself, Chloe isn’t pushing Chat Noir towards Marinette or Adrien towards Marigold or anything. I’m not even sure where you were aiming with that part of the comment.

Season 3 looks like we’re going back to that Chloe and it’s probably the only part of the new season that has been a little fun for me, but I also know that it’s the complete OPPOSITE of fun for Chloe stans and people hoping for her redemption, so let’s all keep on Chloe Watch to see what comes of it.

#she's my disappointing trash daughter #my feelings for Chloe are so freaking complicated #JUST LIKE HER CHARACTERIZATION BOOOOM!#ask zoe #ml salt #chloe salt

177 notes · View notes

ragewerthers · 5 years

Text

Dulled Armor

Summary:

We all wear imaginary armor to try and keep us safe, but sometimes armor can dull, can become brittle, can fail.

Sometimes we need something extra to keep us safe.

Prompto's armor has finally failed him... but perhaps he can find safety with the help of a Shield.

A/n: This was for a prompt from @bgn846 who was looking for a fwump filled Promptio fic and I promise that no Prompto’s were harmed in the making of it. You can also read at AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890127

Word count: 3531

------------------------

“So what are your thoughts on that Argentum kid? I know I’ve got a few and I’ll tell you right now, they all circle around him being a mess.”

“Kids got no skill, no stamina. I don’t know why he’s even training with us. He’s literally a liability.”

“It’s what happens when you’re buddy-buddy with the Crowned Prince apparently. He’ll probably get a free pass even if he never hits a target.”

“Pfft. Can you imagine being that useless in combat? They’ll have to pack enough phoenix downs for two full grown behemoth’s to carry in whatever group he goes into!”

“Oh gods, what a waste.”

“Okay, enough talk. Let’s get out there before Cor comes looking for our asses.”

Prompto had heard the whole conversation. He’d just gone into the locker room to change into his crown issued sweats when the other trainee’s had come in.

His own locker had been a few rows back so they didn’t know he was there, though judging from their words, they probably would’ve still made their issue’s known if they had seen him regardless.

A knot had already been building up in his stomach. These last few weeks had really started to get to him and he knew they shouldn’t have, but a person could only take so much.

A few choice classmates who had had him in their sights since elementary really seemed to be coming into their own now and had finally unlocked the choice words to set him on edge.

Klutz.

Kiss ass.

Nif.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to this by now, but eventually all armor gets worn down and their words had finally started to find their mark.

And it seemed like he couldn’t catch a break at work either. Customer service was bad on a good day, but he didn’t know if the recent clientele had just been introduced to civilization, but they were all just downright mean. Making comments about how he looked, how he would screw up on the register, get him frazzled enough to screw up on the register.

Now here he was, huddled up in a corner of the locker room, holding his recently discarded shirt in hand and listening to men older than himself, men who were training to protect the crown, judge him just as harshly as his classmates and strangers on the street felt they had a right to.

He knew he wasn’t catching onto the training as quick as the other recruits. He knew that he could be a klutz and make mistakes, but the words from his classmates, from coworkers, bosses and now people he was supposed to consider comrades… they were all starting to get past that worn down armor he wore on a daily basis and he could feel the ache in his chest that he’d held at bay for so long, slowly starting to unfurl and threaten to swallow him whole.

As he stood there in the locker room he could hear the other Crownsguard trainee’s already becoming boisterous outside and he tried to swallow back the gross feeling rising in his chest.

He tried so hard, but it was never going to be good enough for any of them.

He’d always be the klutz, the failure, the Nif, the punchline.

Gods, he needed to get out of here.

Tugging his shirt back on he grabbed his bag from his locker and made a beeline for the door, his mind so frazzled from everything over the course of the past few weeks that he didn’t even realize that another body was walking into the room until he was practically shoulder checked by the guy, his bag falling off his shoulder and his items scattering everywhere.

Cursing himself he ducked down quickly, scrambling to pick everything up lest this person be like some of the kids at school who found it the height of hilarity to send his items further in either direction with a little kick.

“S-sorry! Sorry! I.. I didn’t m-mean....,” he spluttered, in his already worked up state Prompto didn’t even bother to hang around to see who he’d bumped into, not ready to hear more jeers or snide comments about another mistake. As soon as he thought he’d picked up the last item he was off, his pace only picking up as he heard a ‘Hey!’ coming from the body he’d run into and before he knew it he was running.

Gods, Cor was going to skin him alive for flaking out on training. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. Not with all of this… stuff floating around in his head and his chest and making him feel too tight and cramped in his own skin.

Before he knew it he found himself well out of the Citadel, his legs carrying him to the only safe place his mind could conjure up.

Noct’s apartment.

It felt like a blur to him as he dashed to the familiar building, that growing unease and fear in his chest starting to bubble and coagulate into something he wasn’t sure he could handle. He was no stranger to panic attacks, but it’d been so long since he’d had one.

Obviously fate found he was due.

He made his way inside the building, hoping that he’d find Noct here or even Iggy. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Comfort? Someone to talk to? Gods knew he didn’t get that at home and he felt that tight feeling growing all the tighter as he made his way up to Nocts apartment, the elevator easily starting to feel just as claustrophobic to him as everything else.

Before long he was standing in front of the apartment door, knocking once, then twice, then finding himself knocking more and more, faster and faster as the panic felt like it was starting to claw its way up his chest and throat, his breathing erratic as his own thoughts began to turn against him.

Maybe Noct had heard all the things people were saying?

Maybe this was his way of telling him to leave him alone?

What if he found out how much of a failure he was?

Found out how bad he was at trying to do the simplest things?

Gods knew how pathetic he must look right now then trying to get into a place that he was obviously not welcome to anymore!

“Hey!”

Prompto instantly froze, his heart hammering in his chest as his adrenaline fueled panic attack continued to control his every thought. Every harsh word and comment he’d heard felt like it was bubbling and doubling in his chest like a daemon forming and getting ready to spout forth.

“Jesus, Prom… you’re white as a sheet,” the voice spoke, though Prompto found himself unable to look at the speaker, his eyes still transfixed on the door, afraid to look away as if all of this would disappear and he would be lost to those horrible thoughts that threatened to take him under.

“Prom? Prompto, I need you to take a few deep breaths for me okay?” the voice spoke again, a deep rumble of a voice that reminded Prompto of comfort even in the throes of his chaotic mind.

He tried to take in a breath, but everything felt constricted and it came out sounding more like a gasp.

“Okay.. okay, easy. One more deep breath, okay?” the voice said gently and Prompto wanted so badly to at least do this one thing right!

Trembling he took a breath a little more deeply than the last… then another… and another and soon he found the constriction in his chest loosening slightly.

“There… keep doing that for me. We’re going to go inside. I’m gonna put my hand on your back to guide you, just… keep taking those deep breaths,” the voice instructed carefully and Prompto continued to try and follow this one task. He continued to take the deep breaths, soon finding a warm pressure against his back as he heard the jingling of a key in a lock.

He couldn’t remember when he’d closed his eyes when he’d been so afraid to look away before, but he let himself be guided by the presence that had found him in the hall and soon he was stepping into the coolness of Nocts apartment.

Continuing to take in those breaths he felt himself slowly pressed down to sit on a familiar couch.

“You’re doin’ great, Prom. I’ll be right back,” the voice murmured before he heard footsteps moving away.

Prompto instantly brought his legs up to his chest wrapping his arms around them as he hid his face in his knees.

As the panic induced fog slowly started to clear from his mind he was able to put the voice with the owner.

Gladio.

Fantastic.

Not only was he useless, but he’d just managed to have a panic attack in the middle of the hallway in front of one of the most amazing, not clumsy, strong people in the world!

It’s one thing to have a panic attack by yourself, but to breakdown in front of your crush?

The Astrals must really hate him.

He felt a weight settle down beside him, jostling him slightly and the scent of something warm and sweet filled the air.

“It’s not as good as Iggy’s, but… I thought some tea might help,” Gladio offered gently, setting the cup on the coffee table in front of them.

“Thanks,” Prompto croaked, finally feeling calm enough to glance up and over to the Shield sitting next to him.

Gladio looked the epitome of concerned and caring and Prompto hated to think it was being wasted on him of all people.

“No problem,” Gladio offered gently, a little smile appearing for a second before the concern was back. “But… you care to tell me why you ran from the locker room like a startled baby chocobo? You nearly knocked me over with how hard you ran into me and that’s sayin’ something.”

Prompto instantly felt his face flush up with mortification.

“I did not mean to do that! I-I swear!” he said miserably as he hid his face back against his knees and wondered if there was a way to redo a day, a week, a month so that none of this started to begin with.

“I mean… that’s good to know, but… what had you runnin’ in the first place?” Gladio asked carefully, sitting back. “You got quite a pace on you. I almost lost track of you twice. When we collided and I sent shit everywhere you forgot this, but before I could give it back you were already hightailing it out of there.”

Prompto glanced back up to see Gladio holding one of his camera lenses.

“O-oh… I… thanks,” he said as Gladio set it on the table in front of them. “That’s… that’s my macro lens. The one I use for… after training I… sometimes after training to calm down I’ll go do some photos in the garden. It’s… quiet there. It’s a good lens for close ups of… plants… flowers… little things. Sorry.”

Gladio looked at him curiously.

“What’re you apologizing for?” he asked honestly.

“I’m sure you don’t care about what lenses I have. And… I’m sorry for bumping into you and making you chase me down and for… for having to look after me because I can’t even do that right,” he rambled, his voice feeling tight and trembling in a way he absolutely hated.

He heard a sigh beside him and flinched as if he was waiting for a barrage of agreements of his uselessness.

“Ya know… I wouldn’t chase down just anyone halfway across the city to give them back a camera lens,” Gladio tried, offering a little smile as Prompto refused to meet his gaze. “And… I’m always happy to hear you talk about your photography. I’ve seen what you can do and you’re amazing at it.”

A small flicker of warmth bloomed in his chest as he heard that, like the barest light of a match in a dark cavern. Prompto was almost positive that he must’ve misheard as he turned his eyes on the soft amber ones looking back at him.

“You… you think it’s amazing?” he asked quietly and Gladio gave a hum of thought.

“Well… yeah. Though it’s only amazing because you’re amazing. You’re focused and dedicated. You’ve got a great eye for detail and a great patience and know just the right moment to take the shot.”

Suddenly, Prompto realized that Gladio wasn’t just talking about photography anymore. He watched as Gladio looked just a little awkward and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay, so… maybe I overheard what those guys were sayin’ about you, Prom. And you should know that they’re idiots. They couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn if they were standing two feet from it,” Gladio said simply though Prompto instantly shook his head.

“It’s not just them though. I hear it everywhere. I’m a klutz. I can barely walk without tripping or… gods running into someone. I’m fidgety, I’m different, I’m only where I am because I was lucky enough to become friends with Noct, but sooner or later he’s going to see how useless I am and… and you guys will leave me behind because that’ what I deserve because who would want to be friends with a li-liability and… I.. I just..,” his breathing had started to pick up again and before he could think he found two large arms wrapping around him, a warmth seeping into him that he wasn’t expecting as a feeling of safety settled in his bones.

“Listen to me, Prom. You are… probably the most selfless, giving, just… good person I’ve ever met,” Gladio whispered as he felt Prompto turn slightly in his hold and hide his face against his chest. If he felt a warmth start to seep there and heard a quiet sniffle he didn’t say anything, merely held the younger man closer as one broad hand soothed over his back.

“So what if you trip up sometimes? Even if you do you are most certainly not a liability. Have you ever seen Princess practice? I swear I think he doesn’t know his right from his left half the time. And you think I picked up a broadsword one day and was as good as my dad? Hell I still get my ass handed to me every day compliments of him and Cor. Sometimes things take time to learn. I know you have the patience and drive to do it, but you shouldn’t let others dictate how quickly you can learn and excel.”

Prompto gave another quiet sniffle, knowing full well that there was no way he could speak right now without making a bigger fool of himself.

Gladio continued to hold him, continuing to rub those soothing circles against the others back.

“If it makes any difference… I don’t think you’re a klutz, just excitable. I don’t think you’re fidgety, just energetic And since when did being different become a bad thing? And if you think any of us would just up and leave you, then we’ve obviously not done a good enough job showing you just how important you are to us. I can’t remember Noct ever laughing or smiling as much as he has since he became friends with you. Iggy adores you, even if you can’t tell, but have you ever noticed that he always makes your favourites when you’re over? And…. I know that you’ve definitely added a bit of brightness to my life too. Why else do you think we call you the sunshine child?” he asked lightly, looking down at Prompto as he felt the gunner taking in a few shaky, but slightly calmer breaths.

Looking up at Gladio, eyes slightly puffy and red, Prompto tried to read any dishonesty there or any sign that this was a cruel joke and was only met with a warmth that made the bubbling dark feelings in his chest feel like they were slowly withering away.

“You mean that?” he whispered and Gladio chuckled with a nod.

“Definitely. Cross my heart and everything,” he said lightly, leaning back a little as Prompto brought a hand up to wipe at the wetness on his freckled cheeks.

“S-sorry for… drenching your shirt, big guy,” he said, though his voice definitely felt a bit stronger now.

“Nothin’ to apologize for. Sometimes you need to let it all out so you can start fresh,” Gladio said gently as he leaned back against the sofa.

Prompto gave a nod at that, biting his lower lip. “It all just gets to be a bit much, ya know? I mean… it feels like I have to wear this imaginary armor all day and… it finally wasn’t strong enough to keep out the things that could hurt me.”

Gladio’s expression softened at that and he cleared his throat. “Well… I mean… I am a Shield. If you ever need a little extra armor… I’d be more than happy to supply it.”

Prompto looked up from where he’d been picking at his wristband to see a slight flush over the others cheeks, his heart giving an odd little flutter in his chest.

Gods he was probably having a heart attack. That seemed to be his luck today.

“Really?” he asked tentatively and the smile he got in return from Gladio put all of his fears to rest.

“Really, Sunshine. Like I said… I wouldn’t chase just anybody down across the city to make sure they were okay,” the Shield offered lightly and an honest to gods smile finally appeared over Prompto’s features.

“Sunshine?” he asked softly, a little blush slowly creeping up his cheeks as well now as he felt the warmth from the Shield slowly pushing back those dark gurgling thoughts that had threatened to consume him and replace it with something lighter, warmer and safer.

“What? Would you prefer bright eyes?” Gladio asked teasingly as he gave Prompto a little poke to the side, making the gunner squeak and swat at his hand ineffectually.

“Oh? What’s this? I think there’s still a few weakspots in your armor… like here… and here… and oh this must be a really bad spot,” Gladio teased as he his fingers found Prompto’s sides and pulled him closer, tickling the poor gunner into a giggling mess.

“Nonon-ahaha! You-You were jahahast be… gah! J-Just beheheheing so swehehehet!” Prompto squealed as the tickling fingers moved to his stomach, making him squirm farther into Gladio’s side to try and escape in the worst possible way.

“Hey, if I’m gonna be your Shield I gotta make sure I know what spots I gotta protect,” Gladio teased as Prompto snorted when his fingers started to squeeze up his ribs and the poor guy tried to slide off the sofa to escape.

“Y-You… yehehehAH! You fahaOUnd ThehehHEm!” he laughed ridiculously before finding himself swept up in those strong arms once more and hugged close.

His laughter soon quieted down into little giggles as he felt a chaste kiss to his temple.

“You also looked like you could use a little laugh,” Gladio murmured softly as Prompto all but melted against him, nuzzling his cheek against his shoulder.

Well… this had definitely been a rollercoaster of emotions and he felt absolutely drained if lighter and a small yawn escaped.

“I think Cor would understand if you wanted to miss out on training today, Prom. He may be a hard ass, but he’s not actively looking to work you to death,” Gladio offered softly as he felt Prompto all but nestling into him.

“M’okay… just… like… five minutes?” he asked as Gladio carefully shifted them, laying himself out on the sofa and letting Prompto sprawl out on his chest. He let his hands continue to soothe along his back.

“Hey, Gladio?” Prompto mumbled, half asleep already, but fighting to get a few more things settled. “D’this mean you like me? Like… like me like me?”

Gladio chuckled softly and nodded, realizing a moment later that Prompto’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see.

“Yeah, Sunshine. I like you like you,” he murmured, getting a soft hum from the gunner in return.

“Good. Cos I do to… like you… like you,” he whispered, his breathing slowly starting to even out as Gladio reached over, pulling a blanket from the back of the sofa and covering them both.

“Good. Now… get some rest, Prom. And don’t worry… I’ll keep you safe,” Gladio whispered gently.

And for the first time in what felt like years, Prompto honest to gods believed it. He would be safe. He may be a klutz, he may make mistakes and falter, but… he had people who cared about him and would never leave him behind even if he stumbled.

There may be other days where his armor would fail him, where it’d grow weak and the barbs could get through, but now… he had a Shield there to protect him and keep him safe.

Perhaps the Astrals didn’t hate him that much after all.

#ffxv #gladiolus amicitia #prompto argentum #myfics #gift fic #poor prompto #he needs a hug #fwump #tickle fic

45 notes · View notes

singstall · 6 years

Text

THIS KILLS THE GAME: The Armada/Hungrybox Rivalry (part 1)

Hello, and welcome to Singstall, a site whose primary function is serving as a compact, chronological, searchable history log of competitive Melee. I’m still working on that. You can find the prototype here.

When you ask people their favorite Melee rivalries, you’ll probably hear about Mango and Armada, the two players that clashed at Genesis and have since defined Melee. You might get Armada and PPMD, who played three set classics at three of the most important tournaments of all time and gradually forced each other off their mains. There’s Mango/Leffen, Mango/Mew2King, even Ken/Azen and Ken/PC Chris if you want to take it back...but I contend that the best rivalry in Melee history is a matchup that has become a punchline: Armada/Hungrybox.

Long before seemingly every grand finals ended in a Fox/Puff showdown between the two best players in the world, Armada was arguably the best in the world and Hungrybox was just...a god, yes, but until relatively recently he was a lesser god, truthfully not much of a threat to take huge tournaments. But though he wasn’t exactly a demon, Hungrybox made himself the ultimate thorn in Armada’s side.

While Mango and Armada play a matchup they’ve both refined to perfection, this is mostly an extension of them being wonderful players against anyone. Armada and Hungrybox have always needed to dedicate a certain amount of headspace specifically to each other, which at some points led to them playing a game that barely resembled the Melee we thought we knew.

It’s all the more remarkable that the players involved in the game’s most infamous matchup are now the two best players in the world. We’ll explore their rivalry in six chapters, with the series hopefully concluding around Evo 2018.

Today, we begin with by far the shortest chapter, spanning only two sets. But it’s a great prelude to chapter two, which is something like the main event in this series.

I imagine that as the character matchup that we’ve become more familiar with emerges in chapter three, I’ll have less to say about moment to moment minutiae. But for now, I’ll likely squeeze out every fascinating bit of Peach/Puff, Young Link/Puff, Peach/Fox, and the rest.

Hopefully, instead of just telling you what happened, I can spin a good yarn.

Chapter 1: No One Wanna Hear Her Sing

It was a tale of Peach and Puff.

In July 2009, Armada, having toppled Amsah in two large tournaments earlier that year to establish himself as the best player in Europe, traveled to Genesis, a tournament name that would prove prophetic. Some didn’t expect him to even finish top 32.

But he kept winning and heads kept turning. He beat Lucky.

Then he beat DaShizWiz.

Then he beat Mew2King.

And then, he beat Mango.

Just like that, Armada had established himself as one of the greatest players on the planet. At times, commentators Phil and Waffles sounded resigned to his victory.

But a wrinkle quickly appeared: Mango dropped the Falco he’d played for most of winners finals and switched back to Jigglypuff, still his best character at the time. Just when it looked like Armada, up 2-1, would win the tournament in the first set of grand finals on Battlefield, Mango read Armada’s roll to the center and ended the game with an iconic rest.

Armada got rested so hard that we saw visions of the distant future. First, of Armada losing a lead on tournament point to a rest on Battlefield at the biggest Melee tournament to that point. And then, with Mango making Peach/Puff look as tragic as it feels today, of Armada trying out Fox against Puff, an idea he wouldn’t revisit against Puff until over five years later.

Armada had shocked the world, but immortality had just eluded him thanks to Jigglypuff. Like Bombsoldier before him, he destroyed expectations and instantly reinvented the character, but he would need to return to the United States again to cement himself as something more.

Armada’s second tournament in the United States, January 2010′s Pound 4, was an aberration, the very last time he would lose to anyone outside of an exceptional group of six players.

SilentSpectre upset him in winners, and to this day the only Falcon to defeat Mango remains the only Falcon to defeat Armada. Amsah upset him in losers, leaving Armada in fourth place, outplaced by another European. He would not get his rematch with Mango.

Had Armada defeated either SilentSpectre or Amsah, though, he’d have run into another headache: Hungrybox.

Half a year later, he’d finally run into that headache.

Though Armada’s and Mango’s Genesis sent shockwaves through the Melee community that we’re still feeling today, a much quieter success story would prove just as important: Hungrybox finished third, losing in each bracket to the eventual champion (after all, Mango would be his demon for the next roughly six years).

Hungrybox had been climbing already, finishing seventh at Revival of Melee, but Genesis was so much on another level that Hungrybox broke down crying when he upset DaShizWiz to make top 8.

Little did he know, he wasn’t even close to done. He tore through Darkrain, Scar, and Zhu before finally falling to Mango a second time to finish third.

The top three finishers at Genesis were all future Evo winners. To date, the only future Evo winners.

Hungrybox would continue ascending, double eliminating Mew2King at Tipped Off 5 and then winning Revival of Melee 2, his first major tournament.

Hungrybox was in the middle of a very successful year when Apex 2010 rolled around, and with his demon Mango sandbagging and exiting the tournament early, it would have looked like an obvious win for Hungrybox.

But Armada was there for his third American tournament. And, my goodness, Armada hated Jigglypuff.

youtube

No one wanna hear her sing.

Apex 2010 (August 8, 2010)

Still on a meteoric rise to godhood, Hungrybox began his bracket tearing through Tec0, Kage, and Vanz.

Armada returned after his disappointing Pound 4 performance, and was ready to make up for it and maybe, especially with Mango playing Mario during his “Scorp” phase, win his first American tournament. He made his way through Lucky, Axe, and Zhu to make it into top 8 on the winners side. The puffiest Puff and the ultimate Puff hater finally were to meet.

Winners Semis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4PDR98Y_FE&list=PLWE8jJxz4TmhZLIdUzY7BOphfbiWCTsRz

This was the only set between the two to not be accompanied by commentary.

The pair struck to Dream Land, and the tone of helplessness was set early on. On the very first stock, Armada shielded a strange rest from Hungrybox, but it was suddenly clear that the risk/reward in this matchup would be rather kind to errant rests, with Armada only putting on 28%. On Armada’s second stock, Hungrybox found a quick up-tilt into rest, and though Armada lived easily and punished the rest by taking Hungrybox’s first stock with down-smash, the 36% seemed almost worth the stock loss given the pace of the match.

Just think, using rest just to get some extra credit, giving up a stock. That’s the matchup’s struggle, right there.

Despite a solid game plan from Armada, namely walling out Puff’s back-air by frequently pulling turnips, he needed some luck to keep it competitive. Armada was fortunate enough to pull a Bob-omb, and fortunate that after a Puff up-air the bomb dropped directly onto Jigglypuff, taking a stock at 70% on an enormous stage and giving Armada a brief stock lead.

But it quickly evaporated, and though he was able to bring it to a last stock situation, a string of back-airs sent Armada into a pretty solid deficit. He managed to pull a beam sword, but didn’t do anything with it. Eventually Armada found himself offstage, floating back and getting hit off again and again until Hungrybox took the game.

Armada counterpicked to Final Destination and harshly accelerated his turnip pulls, going out of his way to find space to pull them safely before letting them rip. But this game was a lot less eventful than the last. On his last stock, Armada jumped out of an up-tilt rest setup, and though Armada found a much more optimal punish (turnip to charged down-smash) without platforms, Hungrybox connected a successful up-tilt to rest almost immediately after to finish the set 2-0.

Armada ran through Axe, PPMD (still Dr. Peepee, until April 2014), and Mew2King (a thrilling set in its own right) to make it back to Hungrybox in grand finals.

Grand Finals: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UoaIEuRlOYs&list=PLWE8jJxz4TmixkNzfDupiYbi2oDEWhS3C

“I really love up-air, it looks like Jiggs waving to the crowd, yo.” “It’s the ‘olé.’“ “Heh. ¡Olé!”

youtube

After striking to Final Destination, Armada began building a lead after Hungrybox missed another rest (strangely not noticing that Armada DI’d his up-tilt well) and eventually led by about a full stock, curbing Hungrybox’s aerial punishes and up-tilts with turnips. Over two minutes passed before Armada lost his first stock.

Thanks mostly to his improved use of turnips, which even covered a likely rest setup at one point, Hungrybox was still nearly at kill percent as Armada began his final stock. Armada’s constant projectile attack was a success (even if he again had no use for a beam sword), and it had shades of what their sets would look like for the next four years.

But Hungrybox finally found an up-tilt rest, immediately erasing the lead Armada had amassed and ending the game in devastating fashion.

Armada ran it back to Final Destination, and things immediately began terribly when Hungrybox, still only at 14%, hit a jumpless, recovering Armada offstage with a well-placed down-smash, taking a full stock lead crushingly quickly.

Peach doesn’t have any easy answers for that kind of lead in the matchup, but a missed rest (”that doesn’t matter”) and a turnip to charged up-smash punish quickly killed Hungrybox off the top (”It mattered!”), leveling the playing field when things could have been dire.

Armada kept it close for the rest of the game, lagging slightly behind and keeping up his turnip game as Hungrybox tried to constantly pressure Armada, frequently weaving in with neutral-air. We got another pretty tense game. But Hungrybox’s finisher fit the commentators’ narrative: up-air.

The third game would be both the last of theirs without commentary and the last of theirs on Kongo Jungle 64.

Hungrybox responded to Armada’s campy turnip game by taunting four times, perhaps as a nod to Peach’s infamous history on Kongo Jungle. But again, Hungrybox found an early kill, this time with up-tilt to rest. But again Armada answered without taking much damage.

Particularly during this match, both players showcased Melee at some of its very most evasive and defensive, something that would characterize their matchups to do this day. But the gap kept widening. Puff pulling ahead, as always, felt like an inevitability.

After bringing Hungrybox to his last stock, Armada was on his last legs with 119%, but managed to pull a stitch. Alas, he’d never get to use it. Hungrybox back-aired Armada off the stage, and Armada would never make it back.

With just over a minute left on the clock, Hungrybox won the third game, winning Apex 2010, winning all five matches against Armada’s Peach. It was so decisive, that in his post-tournament interview (which featured a surprise guest), the fact that he missed Mango seemed to loom larger than Armada.

youtube

Interviews: Hungrybox Armada & Aniolas (part 1) (part 2) Melee Singles Champion Hungrybox

But he couldn’t have known that it would be over four years before he’d win another major tournament – in fact, that was the next time we’d see Armada’s Peach against Hungrybox’s Puff.

He couldn’t have known that the era of Peach/Puff was over before it began.

Armada couldn’t finish Apex 2010 without creating a now-infamous clip.

youtube

Chapter Recap: Apex 2010 Winners Semis (Hungrybox, 2-0), Apex 2010 Grand Finals Set 1 (Hungrybox, 3-0)

Chapter Set Count: Hungrybox, 2-0 Running Set Count: Hungrybox, 2-0

Next time, The Kokiri Sword.

13 notes · View notes

kaibutsushidousha · 6 years

Text

Artbook Data - Tsumugi Shirogane

Best girl doesn’t disappoint.

Seiyuu’s comment: Mikako Komatsu

She looks very much like a class representative, so I first expected her to be like a cool big sis, but when I got to play her it turned out she was much instable character, always getting overexcited about the things she like. I didn’t have much experience with this type of character, so I had a lot of fun with her. I’m really looking forward to play this game for myself.

Kodaka’s comment: The fanatic mind hidden in “plain” sight

She’s named “Shirogane” because it’s a name gives sort of a “honours student” vibe and “Tsumugi” because she is the one who weaves the story. This is a verbal representation of her mentality that allowed the killing games to continue. The keyword for her design was “honours student-like” and for her personality was “cringey otaku”. I personally wanted her to have vaguely likeable features without looking any special, but if I made her too lacking in personality it would get suspicious, so I tried to make her stand out from time to time while still keeping her plainness as her central gimmick and find this balance was extremely difficult.

The “Super High School Level Cosplayer” characterization was established starting from its final punchline: the alternating transformations. Reverse-engeneering from this established conclusion, we defined her as a cosplayer. And then we made her mixing this with the vaguely-defined “honours student” keyword we set from before. I had quite a tough time trying to decide how her “true personality” sprite, how it should be different from her regular sprites, what indications should I give to the seiyuu and stuff. I wanted her to be something more than just threatening... So we made her in a way she feels like an escalation of the outside world’s worldbuilding, a world hopelessly obsessed with DanganRonpa.

She has some “fun cosplay stories” in the first half of the story and her free time events. These were all stories I got by interviewing real cosplayers. I think that’s the first time I actually interviewed someone to make a character. But it was very worth it, seeing how well-liked she is among the cosplayers.

By the way, about her cosplays of past characters, I really wanted to include the the characters from the DanganRonpa 3 anime. However, we didn’t have enough budget nor ready sprites, so my idea was almost immediately rejected. We’re limited to videogames, 1 and 2. Ultra Despair Girls was removed for being as spin-off and I cry every time I remember this fact. But even without them, the voice acting cost for the final parts already killed me... I’m sorry I had this idea.

Design Notes:

Plain Glasses: A must-have item for the plain folk. We’ll never figure out whether wearing glasses make you plain or if being plain attracts glasses but we still not for sure this is the plain character’s trademark.

Plain Face Out of Costume: Normally, she gets called a plain face a lot. But if Shirogane words “When I take my glasses off, I transform” are real, she could probably look like a different person with the power of her make-up.

Company Badge:

A misterious company’s badge. She keeps it hidden in her person instead of wearing it so it won’t disturb her plain visual. Is it a cosplay office or is it perhaps something else...?

Plain Conversations: Shirogane’s speech pattern has the distinticve otaku quality: she’s only talkative about her hobbies and normally just reacts to what other people are saying and nothing else. She shows up for breakfast every morning, so the reason why people forget she exists so much is indeed because she is plain!?

Plain Body: When it comes to cosplaying a wide range of characters, having curves too wide can sometimes be counterproductive and you can hear many ingenious tricks to purposely make your chest look smaller, bigger, etc. Good thing she’s was born with a plain, moderate body, perfect for cosplaying.

Plain Uniform: A high-waist skirt with a form-fitting jacket. But even an uniform so cleverly design to emphasize her femininity so strongly becomes plain when Shirogane wears it.

Underwear: A pair made for the ultimate final battle. But they are not for show, so she firmly refuse to take low angle photos.

Favorite presents:

Cosplay Carrying Bag: A carrying case highly demanded by cosplayer for being easy to carry. Very useful for things like travels and of course, conventions. Something Shirogane would probably consider a trusted partner.

Photostore: An image editing software used mainly to retouch photographs. Perfect to erase flaws in your make-up or visible freckles. Indispensable for any cosplayer nowadays.

Sewing Set: A portal kit all the basic tools necessary for sewing. In the context of cosplay, she can use it to immediately fix a damaged piece. Indispensable for Shirogane’s daily life.

Steels Glasses Case: It’s sturdy enough to protect your glasses from any kind of shock, even being stepped on by an Exisal. After all, glasses are as super important as underwear!

Hated present:

Death Flag: An item with an unexplainable effect of increasing it’s owner chances of dying. A rare case of an item hated by Shirogane, who is otherwise very proud of her open-mindedness.

Key phrases:

Cosplay is an Equivalent Exchange: The cosplays that defined Shirogane as the Super High School Level Cosplayer are famous and popular enough to earn her sponsors and their selling point is faithfulness to the original’s character design. That said, she prefers devoting herself to making the costumes rather than wearing them and acting the character. For that reason, she has a lot of complaints about the current community of idol-like cosplayers and vocally expresses them in order protect the quality and the soul of cosplaying. By the way, the condition for her cosplay is an “Equivalent Exchange”. She claims that if she imitates real people, she breaks out in a horrible allergic reaction and is limited to only playing fictional characters... Leaving aside the question that this can’t be described as Equivalent Exchange at all, this is a terrifying allergy that colors her whole body pink. You can tells it’s harsh just by looking at it.

Glasses are underwear!?: For Shirogane, a fervent defender of plainness, glasses are an indispensable prop, an item to be always worn, no different from underwear. The glasses are the trademark of the plain. By just wearing a pair, you are turned into a plain person and disappears from the plains of existence... That quicly leads to you having innumerable plain anecdotes, like passing unnoticed by the cashier, being left behind by your friends, entering the movie theater with a ticket, becoming an expert in covert investigations, etc. Leaving aside the question of how many of those are true, the point here is that appearence is important.

God has Black Hair and Red Eyes: Angie’s God prioritizes convenience above all else, changing it’s appearence according to the believer. So, if you’re wondering what would he be like for the fiction-loving Shirogane, the answer is the expected one: she sees a God loaded with fantasy tropes like “black hair and red eyes”. She, who values those characteristic hard to find in real life and makes fervorous speeches about “Red-eyed black-haired characters are all perfect”, has already completely turned to an Angie devout. I... just hope someone who would wholeheartedly listen to all her hyperfixations descends from heaven to her soon!?

Main Quotes:

“Huhuhu... Don’t you know? Those who see my true form pay a terrible price, you see?“: The foul-mouthed Iruma told Shirogane “If you take off your glasses, you’ll fade away“. In other words, if she loses the glasses that mark her as a plain character, her character would lose it’s meaning of existance and disappear. However, Shirogane said she’s off, if she takes her glasses off, she will transform. “She was actually hot all along without her glasses!” is a plot we see a lot in shoujo manga, but in Shirogane’s case we’re very curious to see what her real face will look like!?

“Sorry... I’m in a bit of a financial trouble. Oh, if only someone could support me, that would be so great“: Now, Shirogane ascended to the top of the cosplayer world with overwhelming fame and reach. But before, she was a measly cosplayer that lived barely scraping by and had to earn her money through part-time jobs. A simple and easy option if you wanted to earn money fast, is to work in a place that sells alcohol to rich men, smile sweetly and conquer sponsorers. It’s admirable how far her passion towards her hobbies go!

“But, as I thought... maybe you should be The White Kanata“: After teaching the Cosplaying 101, Shirogane finally starts luring Saihara into the unescapable path of cosplay (popularly known as “cosplay hell“) and starts endlessly brainstorming garments that would suit him! After considering fantasy knights, failproof school uniforms and even crossdressing, the answer she arrived at was the protagonist of an old superhero anime Saihara also knows, “The White Kanata“. It was the first character Shirogane ever cosplayed and visibly a character she has strong feelings about. Knowing about their unexpected common point, Shirogane became unstoppable, filled with the will to put her soul into Saihara’s outfit.

Final comment: She clinging on to her otaku hyperfixations, fully trusting the belief they do no harm nor good. Shirogane’s presence runs full speed on the path to plainness, but it turns out she wants to make it shine on the cosplay stage!?

#tsumugi shirogane #artbook translations #I loved how the stories in Shirogane's free time felt so real and now I know why #how the heck is black hair a fantasy trope?#typing the sentence Shirogane became unstoppable was a life-changing experience #I'm so glad I'm doing this

255 notes · View notes

theixanne · 4 years

Text

Exceeds Expectations

Better late than never... Heneral Luna opens claiming that this is a fictionalized biopic of one of Philippine's most important historical figures, Antonio Luna, for the sake of getting the modern audience into the history's bigger picture. In spite of being more intense and surprisingly humorous, the movie stays loyal to what this figure truly stands for. The war is brutal, over-the-top to bring up for visual flare, and their serious situations being often treated as sincere satires. How the film executed these ideas are just brilliant, it gets larger-than-life without feeling outlandish, towards the heart of defending the nation worth fighting for. The film is all about justifying their quote about the real enemy of this war is themselves. Although we see warfare with both the Philippine and American army attacking each other, this battle is basically the secondary concern here. The real detail of this war is how many soldiers chickening out from the battlefield and some officials wanted to work with the Americans. But of course, their real goal is independence; the movie makes a punchline out of those who aren't helping out, those who are just running away and those who are just isn't fond of Luna's aggressiveness. The film doesn't glamorize the character of Luna, either. Though his intentions are right, his rage could get out of hand which puts most of them off. But that also indicate that winning this revolution deserves more discipline than what they got. Back to the fact that this is taken a lot out of creative liberties, the movie fills this history with vast amount of sense of humor and violent panache. The violence is, again, over-the-top. At times it gets pretty symbolical, specifically the climax. The humor is clearly just satirizing to those characters who aren't being helpful and those who are afraid of facing Luna's rage once more. And when it's not trying to pull off any sense of levity, we just get to see the story flesh itself out more in the sidelines of its history and other characters. The filmmaking is stunning, slick and stylish. The production looks pretty neat. The movie is paced nicely even at times it's layered to different events, but puts itself together consistently. The acting is beyond impressive; specifically John Arcilla as Antonio Luna. He brings a genuine humanity, and at the same time, a really compelling sense of madness, which terrifically lives up to the complexity of its subject. The supporting also lends real gravity and even delight on screen, but it's Arcilla's show and that's more than enough of a worth seeing performance through out. Maybe some quibbles I could point out; maybe how the enemies are portrayed felt like they're written to be campy villains and maybe just one punchline in the film that felt like it belongs to a comedy skit. But again, these are quibbles and they can be debunked, even by myself. The former can be forgiven since they're technically not the main villains of this ordeal, while the latter is just a single scene and obviously designed to keep shaming the cowards at the battlefield. Anything else, there is so much to love in Heneral Luna. It's great, not only because it's humorous and visually interesting, but it's also a two-sided argument towards its history, not based on praising, but actually by criticism. Yes, this is a war movie that gets brutal, but the movie focuses on a meatier and more challenging side of the ordeal. And it pokes fun at some unwise decisions the people behind this war make, but what matters is the intention of its subject unable to die while he's still standing. Otherwise, it's just an ultimately entertaining film that exceeds expectations. Truly recommended.15 out of 20 found this helpful. Was this review helpful? Sign in to vote. Permalink 9/10Hot-Headed Heroics!3xHCCH15 September 2015"Heneral Luna" tells us a more detailed account of the life of one of the revolutionary heroes we learn about in school, yet know practically nothing about -- Gen. Antonio Luna. Practically all we know about him is that he had a very bad temper which gained him a lot of enemies, eventually leading to his assassination. Aside from telling us specific situations where this legendary temper flared up, we also get to meet him more intimately as a leader, a soldier, as a son and as a man. Even from his intense penetrating gaze and formidable mustache in the poster alone, you already know John Arcilla will be excellent in this film. His comic timing was impeccable. It was a most vibrant performance of a most vivid man, making him really loom larger than life. He was over-the-top in his explosiveness, just the way Tarog wanted him to be. The way he was built up, we were ready for that climactic assassination scene, however outrageous the savagery. Mon Confiado was a picture of ironic calm as President Emilio Aguinaldo. The more movies we watch about the revolution certainly brings up more and more questions about the controversial Aguinaldo. Nonie Buencamino was so slimy as his treacherous surname-sake Felipe Buencamino. That nonchalant look on Lorenz Martinez face was so hateful as he essayed the role of the equally haughty Gen. Tomas Mascardo. It was also such a casting risk and surprise to put known comedians in such key roles, like Epy Quizon as Apolinario Mabini, Leo Martinez as Pedro Paterno and Ketchup Eusebio as the vengeful Capt. Pedro Janolino. I must admit their presence can be distracting in certain dramatic moments, particularly Eusebio. Or maybe that was their purpose -- to balance out the severe seriousness of those scenes. You immediately upfront that the filmmakers were aiming high for this film. The initial introductory texts were written in English, signifying intentions for this film to make the rounds of foreign film festivals. (I read that there were even certain reels with English subtitles shown in some more upscale cinemas.) The presence of disclaimers stating that this is a work of fiction inspired by fact could somehow raise an uneasy question as to how much fiction was in there mixed among the facts. This film will also grab you with its gorgeous cinematography. The images on the big screen had such vivid colors and innovative camera angles. The period production design and the costume design were meticulous in detail. During a beautifully-edited flashback sequence, there was a stylized scene about Rizal's execution that was so uniquely and hauntingly rendered. There are most gruesome and graphic special effects showing the violent brutality of warfare which will shock you. The historical storytelling was very clear, exciting and engaging from beginning to end, with a fresh graphic novel feel to it. Humor was such an unexpected yet integral element of the script, from those crisp off- color expletives of Luna to those sarcastic side comments of Lt. Rusca (Archie Alemania) and many more in between of different shades. The patriotic sentiments were very poetically-written, but the way they were delivered here felt sincere. They did not sound preachy or cheesy, like when such lines were mouthed by Robin Padilla in "Bonifacio" or Jeorge E.R. Ejército in "El Presidente". Just like a Marvel film, there was an extra scene in the middle of the closing credits, suggesting a next film featuring Paulo Avelino as Gen. Gregorio del Pilar. There was also a brief cameo appearance of Benjamin Alves as a young Manuel L. Quezon, hinting at a possible trilogy. This is a very exciting plan indeed which we all hope will materialize given the success of "Heneral Luna". I hear this is also under consideration of being submitted for Oscar consideration, and I support that campaign. The screening I caught today was a full-house despite being 1:30 in the afternoon on a weekday. It was really gratifying to see a quality Filipino film have commercial success even if it was not an inane comedy or "kilig" teen flick with box-office stars in the cast. Kudos to Artikulo Uno Productions and director-film editor-musical scorer Jerrold Tarog for coming up with what may just be the best, certainly the most audacious, Filipino film released this year to date. Like Gen. Luna, this film leads a mad charge on horseback with a raised fist against Filipinos who say they love their country yet look out for their personal interests first. Let's hope this strong message hits its targets.

1 note · View note

wineanddinosaur · 4 years

Text

For Millions of Americans, TikTok Is Offering a Wild, Uncut Introduction to ’80s-Style Flair Bartending

Wearing a flowered top, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, Shay Court juggles a pink shaker tin while tossing a bottle of Tito’s behind her back, all in motions so fast it’s hard to keep up. In the 15-second video, Bruno Mars’ “Uptown Funk” plays and, when the diminutive crooner yells “Stop!,” Court immediately halts her bottle-tossing perfectly on the beat (“Wait a minute…”), the Tito’s held upside down near her head, enabling her to long-pour the vodka into a pint glass below.

“Drinks during quarantine be like…🤪,” writes Court, better known as the @flairbartendress to her 27,000 followers on TikTok.

While Instagram is rife with very serious amateur bartenders doing very serious things, TikTok is where all the fun is going on these days — mostly in the form of flair bartending, a much-maligned art form you probably haven’t thought about in a while. In fact, the majority of the most followed #cocktail and #bartending accounts on TikTok are for flair bartenders. The #flairbartending hashtag itself has a stunning 36 million views.

@flairbartendressDrinks during quarantine be like.. 🤪 ##flairbartending ##fyp ##foryou ##new ##bartender ##flair ##drinks♬ Stop! Wait a Minute – Bruno Mars, Tik Tok

It all kind of makes sense — flipping bottles behind your back and juggling shakers in the air is a perfect fit for TikTok’s short-form video platform typically employed by teenagers for improvised dances and lip-sync videos. (Isn’t flair bartending just dancing with bottles?) With most all flair bartenders out of work these days, they’ve gravitated to this hippest and youngest of social media platforms.

Court says she got introduced to TikTok by her 8-year-old daughter. A Canadian, she learned her craft working in Las Vegas bars like Bally’s and Kahunaville. Today, Court is a private events bartender in northern Kentucky, but with few private events at the moment, she began fooling around on TikTok. There were already some flair bartenders on TikTok doing their thing, but Court thought she could really lean into the platform’s full capabilities.

“I wanted to do — not just flair — but thought maybe I could take those TikTok trends and put my own spin on them,” she explains. In TikTok parlance, Court is referring to the site’s most viral sounds of the moment, usually snippets from songs but sometimes mere audio clips, often bolstered by a hashtag like, say, #savage. That’s why if you venture into the wild world of TikTok, you’ll notice many kids doing similar dance moves all to the exact same clip from the exact same song. Like Court, who took viral audio from the bbno$ rap “Nursery,” which many TikTokers had been syncing to funny videos of themselves going from stumbling to strutting, and instead matched it to her flair. That TikTik alone has racked up 1.2 million views so far. “That’s not something a lot of people have seen with flair bartending,” she says.

If flair bartending emerged across America in the 1980s, reaching its pinnacle in the 1988 Tom Cruise movie “Cocktail,” nowadays, it mainly exists in competition form, often in Eastern Europe, with very few American localities having much of a flair community. And, during a pandemic, if “normal” bars are able to offer takeaway cocktails and sidewalk and patio service, you’re not exactly going to see someone flipping bottles on Fifth Avenue. That’s why most of these furloughed flair masters are left performing tricks from their kitchens, backyards, and living rooms.

“The videos must be more impressive because the [bar] scene is not there,” says John Faller (@cocktailsgarnishes) who is stuck doing flair tricks on a rug in front of his TV or in the foyer by an umbrella rack for his 60,000 followers. “It brings more challenges and pushes the limits of imagination away,” he adds.

@cocktailsgarnishes##chaussettes ##costume ##flip ##jonglage ##somelier ##viral ##style ##barman ##bartender ##cocktails ##wine ##foryou ##pourtoi♬ PYRO – Chester Young & Castion

The Frenchman works at an upscale hotel bar in non-pandemic times and he’s been incorporating flair into his professional bartending for nearly a decade. He started using Instagram in early 2019, mostly to post his beautiful and baroque garnishes. They were getting some attention, but not a ton. After noticing that TikTok was booming, he pivoted to posting flair videos there in late February of this year. He now has 10 times the followers on TikTok compared to Instagram, despite posting nearly the exact same videos. Other flair bartenders have noticed the same thing.

There’s three-time world flair champion Luca Valentin, who doesn’t just juggle bottles but three separate accounts on TikTok, most notably for flair purposes @valentinluca and @cocktailswithluca. The Romanian man started posting to the latter in mid-May, building an Ecuador cocktail by flipping a wine glass and his bottles of rum in the air, tossing some lemon juice behind his back, flipping ice from a shovel into the glass, and flicking the cap off a tonic bottle. In the two months since, he’s made over 40 more videos, quickly amassing 85,000 followers and over half a million likes. (He has less than half the amount of followers on his Instagram page, which he has been using for over seven years.)

The thing is, many of these young TikToker users — some 69 percent, are between ages 13 and 24; almost none are older than 40 — have surely never seen a flair bartender in person so they have no preconceived notions. Hell, many high school- and college-aged TikTokers have perhaps never legally even been inside a bar. So flair bartending in any form is an exotic new world to them. Which makes me wonder if TikTok could be completely reviving this often-ignored niche of mixology.

“I think with the younger kids, they get excited when they see it — it’s a show for them,” says Zach Prohaska, who posts as @cdbartending. He finds the same is true in the real world, quite frankly; he works plenty of bar mitzvahs where the tweens are wowed when he teaches them tricks with a soda can.

@cdbartendingA Blue Lagoon 🌊⛱🍹 ##bartender ##blue ##fyp ##cocktail ##learnfromme ##learnfromhome ##SummerProject ##foryou♬ Jus’ Know – BlackMayo

“Yes, I do have followers that are underage,” admits Kevin Gibbons. As his @elitebartendingfl is a “pro” TikTok account, he can monitor his viewership analytics more closely. “They say, ‘You’ve made me want to be a bartender when I’m older’ — and that’s kind of what I want!”

Gibbons, an Englishman, currently lives in Orlando and owns and runs several Elite Bartending schools, all of which are associated with actual bars like The Attic. When those bars were forced to close due to the pandemic, and he could no longer teach his students in person, he took four pieces of wood, spent 20 minutes building a makeshift bar in front of his home, and began demonstrating flair tricks and cocktail making on TikTok. Next thing he knew he had over 300,000 followers and 4 million likes (compared to just 15,000 followers on his Instagram).

“I wasn’t really prepared for that—I certainly didn’t start out to become an influencer,” he jokes. He’s now getting sent products, merchandise, and sponsorship opportunities.

Unlike Court, Faller, and Valentin, Gibbons’ TikTok flair is less based on the music-backed, “how-did-he-do- that?!” razzle dazzle and is instead more of a tutorial. I particularly enjoyed one TikTok where he teaches you to juggle bottles by envisioning an upside-down triangle above your head. Gibbons claims this method has taught people flair juggling in as quick as two minutes.

“With TikTok, it’s so visually pleasing to the eye — you’re getting cocktails and a show,” says Gibbons. But he doesn’t think it’s pure frivolity and, in fact, preaches to his students (and viewers) that it can help them increase their nightly tips. “I’ve always felt like it gives the image of a bartender being next-level.”

Prohaska, for one, agrees. He also runs a bartending school and events companies in Toronto. He joined TikTok late last year after seeing a Gary Vaynerchuk video explaining how it’s now the fastest growing social media platform. Though Prohaska claims he was immediately overwhelmed by the rapid-fire, fresh-faced platform — “I’ll be honest, I felt like I was 100 years old” — he nevertheless started posting some videos and immediately began getting exposure, especially for his garnish and knife tricks (and, yes, blue cocktails).

“Let’s be honest: Flair is a pretty cool thing. And it’s new to this younger crowd,” says Prohaska, who has been bartending for 20 years and incorporating flair for 16. Like Gibbons, he, too, believes in more practical flair; not wasting 20 minutes tossing bottles around, but instead using each movement to work toward getting a drink ultimately made.

“I get it. I used to hate flair, too,” he’s quick to add. “Now I hate how everyone will talk smack about flair, but I understand — I was that bartender. Once you learn it effectively, though, the people you’re serving love to see it.”

As Prohaska alludes to, the cocktail cognoscenti have always maligned flair, thinking it cheesy and an impediment to serious drinks-making. If it appears in pop culture nowadays, it’s mostly to show the hubris of a non-bartender put under the limelight, like, say, “King of Queens”’ oafish Kevin James dropping bottles upon trying a trick beyond his skill level. So, if flair bartending has mostly been a punchline for the last two decades, these TikTokers seem to be bringing back it’s, uh, respectability.

“I’ve never been this viral,” says Court, who amazingly has garnered her following with a mere 20 TikToks posted so far. “And it’s a lot of people that I’ve never met who suddenly have an interest in flair. Ninety-nine percent of the comments are positive. ‘Oh, that’s really cool, I’d like to try that.’”

I’ve wondered if there are people on TikTok now trying out flair tricks who have nothing to do with the bartending industry. The answer would seem to be yes. In fact, The Rock recently reposted one of Prohaska’s videos to his 190 million followers; Prohaska quickly added 45,000 new followers that night alone. But it’s not just celebrities, of course, who are into TikTok flair. It’s mostly regular users.

“I get ‘dueted’ everyday,” says Gibbons referring to TikTok’s method of allowing users to create side-by-side videos with people they follow, trying to synchronize their moves to the person they dueted. These duets are mostly being created by flair neophytes, young TikTokers seeing this crazy form of bartending as simply another meme, another viral dance move to put their own spin on. It’s really not a surprise to me — these TikTok users are the same generation that made water bottle flipping a thing in the summer of 2016.

Court thinks this newfound attention to flair might not just be because of the pandemic, but thanks to it, as flair bartenders are no longer working in their bars. She thinks there’s a certain charm to her doing tricks in regular clothes, in her living room or backyard; the casual setting is more likely to inspire her followers to try it out themselves.

“It allows the everyday person to relate because I’m not in a totally professional setting,” she says. “‘Wow, look what you can do!’”

But, just like most people don’t watch TikTok dance videos because they want to learn to The Renegade, most people don’t seem to watch these flair bartending videos because they want to start juggling bottles of Tito’s and working on four-foot-long pours. As Prohaska says: “A lot of my followers just miss the social part of the bar scene. They leave me comments: ‘I miss going to bars. But if the bars were open, I’d be at yours!’”

The article For Millions of Americans, TikTok Is Offering a Wild, Uncut Introduction to ’80s-Style Flair Bartending appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/tiktok-flair-bartending/

0 notes

johnboothus · 4 years

Text

For Millions of Americans TikTok Is Offering a Wild Uncut Introduction to 80s-Style Flair Bartending

“Drinks during quarantine be like…?,” writes Court, better known as the @flairbartendress to her 27,000 followers on TikTok.

@flairbartendressDrinks during quarantine be like.. ? ##flairbartending ##fyp ##foryou ##new ##bartender ##flair ##drinks♬ Stop! Wait a Minute – Bruno Mars, Tik Tok

@cocktailsgarnishes##chaussettes ##costume ##flip ##jonglage ##somelier ##viral ##style ##barman ##bartender ##cocktails ##wine ##foryou ##pourtoi♬ PYRO – Chester Young & Castion

@cdbartendingA Blue Lagoon ?⛱? ##bartender ##blue ##fyp ##cocktail ##learnfromme ##learnfromhome ##SummerProject ##foryou♬ Jus’ Know – BlackMayo

“I wasn’t really prepared for that—I certainly didn’t start out to become an influencer,” he jokes. He’s now getting sent products, merchandise, and sponsorship opportunities.

“It allows the everyday person to relate because I’m not in a totally professional setting,” she says. “‘Wow, look what you can do!’”

The article For Millions of Americans, TikTok Is Offering a Wild, Uncut Introduction to ’80s-Style Flair Bartending appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/tiktok-flair-bartending/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/for-millions-of-americans-tiktok-is-offering-a-wild-uncut-introduction-to-80s-style-flair-bartending

0 notes

isaiahrippinus · 4 years

Text

For Millions of Americans, TikTok Is Offering a Wild, Uncut Introduction to ’80s-Style Flair Bartending

“Drinks during quarantine be like…🤪,” writes Court, better known as the @flairbartendress to her 27,000 followers on TikTok.

@flairbartendressDrinks during quarantine be like.. 🤪 ##flairbartending ##fyp ##foryou ##new ##bartender ##flair ##drinks♬ Stop! Wait a Minute – Bruno Mars, Tik Tok

@cocktailsgarnishes##chaussettes ##costume ##flip ##jonglage ##somelier ##viral ##style ##barman ##bartender ##cocktails ##wine ##foryou ##pourtoi♬ PYRO – Chester Young & Castion

@cdbartendingA Blue Lagoon 🌊⛱🍹 ##bartender ##blue ##fyp ##cocktail ##learnfromme ##learnfromhome ##SummerProject ##foryou♬ Jus’ Know – BlackMayo

“I wasn’t really prepared for that—I certainly didn’t start out to become an influencer,” he jokes. He’s now getting sent products, merchandise, and sponsorship opportunities.

“It allows the everyday person to relate because I’m not in a totally professional setting,” she says. “‘Wow, look what you can do!’”

The article For Millions of Americans, TikTok Is Offering a Wild, Uncut Introduction to ’80s-Style Flair Bartending appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/tiktok-flair-bartending/ source https://vinology1.tumblr.com/post/626613969391632384

0 notes

travisxsimmons · 4 years

Text

old man

travis’s shitty moments turn even shitter after seeing his dad at the bar, gts all around!!

“You alright, darlin’?”

Travis glanced up from his fist to the bartender as she eyed him. She was an older lady with make-up way too heavy for her age, and she wore a sympathetic expression. He wasn’t exactly sober, but in compassion to the rest of the drunk idiots there, she seemed to have actually taken pity on him.

“Not so much, but that’s nothing another hit can’t fix,” he sighed, tapping against the glass and wincing.

“Sure thing, but...you might wanna think about cleaning up those hands, sweetie. Not that I suspect anything, it’s just a bit odd looking, that’s all,” she shrugged.

Travis’s eyes darted back down to his bloodied knuckles. So maybe beating the shit out of Whitney’s ex wasn’t the best thing to celebrate with a drink. In fact, celebrate wasn’t the right word. It was a kind of mourning, in a way. If anything were to bring death to their relationship, this was it. All the little things like Miami, the bathroom, Molly, the karaoke video, and nude’s being leaked all seemed to lead to this one particular downfall.

“Yeah, well...the prick deserved it. It’s kind of like a badge of honor at this point,” Travis shrugged, tossing back his refill as if it were water. And it was true. He’d gotten an incoming of texts: Molly, Dylan, Philip, Meredith. All of them asked a mix of if he’d seen the photos, what was going on, if was Whitney okay. He didn’t know, though, not until it was too late. He’d caught enough of the live-stream to send out a rare, angry tweet to Woody, one that he was sure his publicist would be on his ass for later. The moment that was brought up and laughed at over Instagram, something snapped. It was personal from that point on. He knew it may have been stupid or even hypocritical considering the countless times he’d hurt Whitney himself, but something about driving to his place and watching Woody wincing against each blow directed towards his face was worth it. Just because he’d fucked with her head didn’t mean anyone else should’ve had the right or gotten pleasure from it. Maybe that’s what felt so good about seeing Woody’s wrecked face and walking away with bloodied hands. It was an eye for an eye.

“Honey,” she sighed as he tapped it once more. “Are you sure you don’t wanna slow down? I don’t want you doing anything else too stupid.”

“Carla,” he said, catching sight of her name tag, “I trust you. Trust me back, yeah? There’ll be a good tip in it for ya.”

She hesitated briefly, but ended up filling his cup to the brim once more. “Just...be careful, hon. If not for you, for me.”

He opened his mouth to reply to her, maybe even thank her for being over the top nice when him of all people didn’t deserve it, but a roar of laughter from the other end of the bar caught his attention. It was familiar, and it actually made him tense up. It was enough to feel like every inch of hair on his body was standing up straight. He carefully turned his head to see the small group of men who appeared to be in their 60′s or 70′s, all seemingly piss-drunk. He wouldn’t have thought much of it if it weren’t for the one in the middle, arms flailing about as he seemed to tell some story with dramatic flair. Must’ve been where he got it from.

“Fuck,” he sighed, getting to his feet and digging into his pocket to slide a hundred dollar bill towards Carla.

“Baby, you didn’t even finish your refill. This is too much.”

He licked his lips before grabbing the glass and finishing it off, giving her a small nod as he placed it back on his napkin.

“S’for being a decent person. God knows we could use more of those in the world,” he responded, his voice gravelly. He needed to get the fuck out of there. He was all prepared to, reaching down to button up his coat, the pound of his boots echoing as he walked to the entrance.

“Travis?”

The voice had him skip to a stop, and he felt as if he were just grabbed by a creature in a haunted house.

“Travis! My boy! Fellas, that’s my fuckin’ son right there! In a bar of all places. The fucking irony, eh? Really taking after his old man,” he heard his father’s chatter, his eyes squeezing shut as they all roared with laughter again. He couldn’t leave now, not without saying something. He hesitantly turned around, feeling Carla’s protective stare on him as he walked towards the oldies gang and stopped about a foot away from.

“Well son, don’t you think it’s rude to not stop to say hello? Especially to your father, of all people.”

“Not sure if the alcohol has blurred your eyesight, but I was just leaving, dad,” he replied, his tone curt. It definitely caused a stir from the other older guys, an awkward hush falling among the group.

“Big mouth you’ve got there, boy. You certainly didn’t get it from your mother, that’s for sure. Another gift from old pops, huh?” he prodded once again with a chorus of snickers from his goons.

“How about you keep mum’s name out of your mouth?” Travis replied. If there was sore subject, it was that. His mom practically raised him and his siblings on her own, and even though she’d moved on, it still wasn’t fair. “Besides, you never stuck it out long enough to really know her, did you?”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” his father drawled, eyes going from a unfocused blur to a narrow, faltering glare. Strangely enough, it was accompanied by a deep smirk, once that he wished he could just smack off of his face. He was sure the drinks were the cause of that. “You should be grateful I decided to stick it out with that bitch long enough for you to be alive. Count your lucky fucking stars.”

He didn’t want to let this rattle him, despite feeling the way his fists were starting to tremble at his sides. “Classy as ever, dad, but you’re not exactly hot shit yourself. She’s moved on, and you’re here in a random bar. If you think any of us should feel grateful towards you, then I guess it’s not just liver damage you’ve got going on. It’s starting to effect your brain, too.”

The comment promoted another loud round of laughter from his dad, although his friends didn’t have the same reaction. It was more awkwardness, unsure if they should be laughing along or leaving him be.

“Maybe you’re right, son, but from the looks of it, you’re following right behind me, huh? Almost exactly in my footsteps, and not surprisingly so. I’ve heard your brother’s already managed to fuck up his marriage, and you’re here looking like you just buried a dead body. Probably can’t keep a girl yourself, right?”

“Wrong. My girl, she...” Travis’s voice cut off when he suddenly remembered that, technically, Whitney wasn’t his girl. Not at the moment. His dad didn’t have to know that, though. He didn’t owe him any explanations. “She’s a country singer. A fucking fantastic one, and I care about her enough that you’ll never have the honor of ever getting to meet her in person. Not if I have any say.”

“Well that sounds like a nice, fake, fairytale girl you’ve made up there, son. Let me guess, that song, the ‘Travis’ one is by her and it’s about you, right?”

His silence and the look on his face was the only answer his dad needed, his moment of shock turning into an ugly, cruel cackle.

“It is! Well, fucking hell boy, I should’ve known. Robert can’t make it work, and you leave them high and dry enough to get a song written about you. You’re both your father’s sons. Not sure if I should be proud, I expected as much. Let’s hope your sister isn’t out there selling herself short or swinging around a pole and shoving money in her panties. I’d hate to see another waste of potential.”

In almost a second, Travis had lunged and had his dad’s shirt taken up in his fist. The others were quick to jump in, feeling a pair of arms attempting to tug him away from his dad.

“Hey! It’s fine, let him go,” his dad bellowed, and Travis felt himself being released from the hold that was on him. “You wanna punch me? Go right ahead, boy.” He got uncomfortably close to him, enough so that Travis took in the stench of whisky and cigarettes from his breath. “You better make it a fucking good one, too. You’re a lot of things, but hopefully not a pussy.”

Travis stared at him, heavily breathing before shaking his head.

“You’re not worth the time. You’re not worth shit.”

Despite deserving more, he settled for giving his dad a hefty shove. He didn’t relish in the way he stumbled backwards with a drunken grin. It was all just so stupid and sickening.

“Guess you’re a little bitch, too, huh? Isn’t that right, Travis? Go on, get the fuck out of here.”

He turned to walk away, to just block out the comments, leave everything in the dust and carry on. However, he was met by the presence of two police officers walking through the doors.

“Is there a Travis Simmons here?”

Fuck.

“I, uh, yeah...me. What’s the problem, officer?”

Instantly, he received the ‘you’re under arrest’ spiel and felt a pair of cuffs wrap around his wrists. It was actually pretty impressive how fast they swooped in. No, it wasn’t his first time having something like this happen, but it was the first time he’d actually felt the gut punch of shame. Not for what he did, but for who was observing it. He glanced to Carla, who was almost as horror struck as he was, then reluctantly over to his dad who raised a glass in his direction.

“My kin, ladies and gentleman. He’s getting more similar to me with every passing moment.”

Travis’s eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to watch as he tipped the drink back. He couldn’t help but think about how similar they looked doing it. If he was actually becoming anything like his dad, then that was just the biggest fuck you life could offer him. It was almost torturous when the song over the speakers changed and he recognized Whitney’s voice, singing about the shitty things he’d done. His dad’s chuckling in the background as it played was a punchline to the whole fucking joke. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe all of this was something he’d been asking for. Even so, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this low. He didn’t dare look back, eyes glued to the floor as he was lead to the cop car.

#one shot: old man

0 notes

icharchivist · 7 years

Note

Was there a lot of drama in the dgm fandom in 2008? All I can remember is the ship wars

Heyooo!

Okay my bad I mixed up the dates I meant 2009 dkjhfdf but -

Disclaimer, I was 14, I was both in the French and the English fandom of dgm - in the French fandom, I was in a general forum with a lot of guys and lots of theorizing, and in the English one I was in a roleplay community mostly focusing on the Noah Family, which wasn’t talking as much in detail about the show. I was distant to shipping, I wasn’t a shipper, but I knew a lot of shipping community in the RP community.Also disclaimer, I was staning the Noah and I h a t e d Lenalee. (I come a long way.)And, I lived the Alma’s arc.

I will put it under cuts because man the memories, but here you go.

Notice though that at least where I was, I never experienced actual harrassment (the closest was probably the shithead of the French fandoms but I enter in details about it under cut). Honestly when comparing to some stuff in recent fandom history, it wasn’t...... The worst thing ever, but it was still a ride.

Take care ;O

-Shipwars. Shipwars everywhere.

In English fandoms, it was especially the usual shipwar you see. Like “guh who would ship THIS ship when you can ship THIS ship” and the usual. Since the characters of the show are mostly guys, Lenalee was seen as a threat by shipping community who hated on her because she got in the way of the ships. Shipping any ship with Lenalee was considered bad on the mlm shippers side.

In the French fandom, as I said, I was mostly with dudes, and especially dudes who were veryyy not into mlm. (They were repeating on the forum that girls liked mlm because it “humiliated guys”, that was a Good Time :)))))) ). Even bringing up the possibility of it being gay was causing an uproar among the guys who would call you out for being perverted that way. Note tho that I personally didn’t ship anything back then. One or two girls I knew did, and they were being clashed hard.

Guys usually shipped Allen/Lenalee or Allen/Road and they would argue about it (I remember mostly calling Allen/Lenalee boring) but it was rarely the focus of the conversations, it remained a lot of theories.

Leading to the new point:

-The Alma Arc Came Out. (SPOILERS ABOUT THE ALMA ARC AHEAD)

It was a weird time. I saw a lot of people complain on both fandom that it was rushed and coming out of nowhere (while...... it didn’t). Note also that we were having a chapter every months or every two months at this point, after all the rest of the manga was weekly. And if you don’t know dgm (well check it out and check the alma arc pls) Alma is Kanda’s canon love interest, a character who's a guy, or so presenting as such/using masculine pronoums, and revealed to be Kanda’s soulmate, his lover from a past life in which Alma was a woman. (There are debates about how to refer to Alma’s gender nowadays, but back then, everyone stuck to “he” because that was what the most pushed forward for the few months of publications and his past life stayed blurry since Kanda and Alma barely remember it. It’s relevent, i promise.)

Shipping fandoms, especially people who shipped Kanda with any of the guys, were s o upset. Because they considered Alma came out of nowhere and that it wasn’t the ship they wanted with Kanda. There was uproar against it. It calmed down with the years, and people started to love Alma (thanks god, Alma is bae).

I personally was completely destroyed by this arc and loved those two right away, so I was really good with the manga’s storyline.

So, remember when I said the French fandom I was into hated the even possibility of mlm stuff? Ye. They didn’t like it. Like istg, suddenly the DGM subject of that forum got really quiet. When, before the reveal, some people pointed out Alma and Kanda seemed really close, the guys were shutting them down, calling them perverts or Fujo (glad to see fandom never change /s) and saying stuff like we were ruining a perfectly good story and we were stupid.

Aaaand when Alma was revealed to be Kanda’s soulmate (who was a character we were hinted at since the second arc of the manga and people theorized about a lot), the guys went upset. Either that Hoshino was a “fujo” and it was to be expected and that it was the least interesting development possible for Kanda (did i mention they all loved Kanda?? Oh the mighty have fallen. Kanda was like, The Alpha Male for them, and this arc came to an end with Kanda showing vulnerability and love for another guy, the thing those guys were always saying was the most humiliating thing for a man. I didn’t forget.).

The fandom on this forum grew a lot quiet after it, except for a few guys who were cool with it or guys who went “well Kanda doesn’t actually love Alma since he loved only the Past life so it’s not gay” (and fuck this. that’s so much bad faith lmao), but istg that was a riot to witness.

(I say it again, I don’t intend to debate about Alma’s gender right now, and I completely understand the debate over it nowadays, and it’s just as important to discuss about it. NonCis!Alma is still something important and therefore the relationship with Kanda is a huge thing. I just want to emphasize on the fact that straight guys who didn’t want to think about gender fucking rioted because the manga presented Alma as Kanda’s male love interest, and if you don’t know anything about Gender theory, this is what you stop at - and those Guys had none of it.)

-Allen was considered boring// 14th Debates

That was something from both Noah side I was into and the French fandom mostly, of people considering Allen being annoying/Boring. Characters like Kanda were much more appreciated (Lavi kinda fell into the background with the arcs that came out at this point, although he was still very loved in the English fandom).

So, there were a lot of theories to “make Allen more interesting” which were mostly debates to have him join the Noah for good by becoming the 14th. There were people arguing a lot about that, and the few people who actually liked Allen were kinda upset about it.

There was of course a lot of theorizing on the 14th, and the two commons theories were “Allen will join the Noah as the 14th” or “Allen will become the 14th and, Road and Tyki and they’ll create their own third side”.

So let’s say those people were annoyed when the 14th appeared and told he wanted to become Millenium Earl instead of Adam. Oops.

Mostly I know there was a lot of disappointment about Nea’s introduction and the fact that it’s more a case of “Nea will remplace Allen” instead of “Allen will become a Noah”. A lot of the guys from the forum I mentioned weren’t too happy with that development, and complained about it a lot (and the further infos on Nea didn’t please them much. The latest theory group I mentioned tho were overjoyed when Tyki and Road came to free Allen though).

-Noah VS Exorcist Wars

I suppose it’s more a question of preference there, but at least in the RP community I was into, and lowkey in the French fandom, there were tons of arguing depending on which side you were rooting for. Both sides could get extremely rude and mean to each other, and it could result in the fandom with an obvious bias on who people were cheering for.

There were very few people cheering for a 3rd side (I was mostly Noah but leaning to 3rd Side, nowadays I can’t even feel myself in any sides,i’m just “please take care of those children” side), and this was usually the neutral part of the fandom.

Honestly, on me who wasn’t a shipper, and mostly on non-shipping groups? This was our shipping wars. That was what people were getting angry at. Who you were siding with.

-Lenalee Hate, which doesn’t exist in this fandom anymore right? /s

I plead guilty there because I was totally among those ones, and that’s probably why i’m so upset when I still see it nowadays.

People hated on Lenalee for a brunch of reasons, either because she was in the middle of their ships, or because she was considered “useless” and “whiney”. The complains about her violent attitude only came a lot later tbh?? I know I didn’t like her among other reasons for that, and because a lot of characters liked her and it made me upset, and a lot of people were like that tbh.

She got shit then, she still gets shit now. Back then though I remember at least in Roleplay community that Lenalee was always the punchline of a joke, and people roleplaying Lenalee could have a hard time with people being rude to them.

That’s honestly the most that I can remember, and honestly it was probably just the communities I was into, but I especially remember the end of the Alma Arc with the Dudebros. Like I think on tumblr we tend to forget fandoms weren’t always that opened with this kind of stuff, and that regardless of how people regard the Alma’s arc nowadays, it was huge back then.

Everyone kinda fell out of the fandom in the following time since it’s when the big hiatus started to appear, leading to the 3 years haitus in 2012 (?). Between the Alma Arc and then, the fandom really died down and people moved on on most parts.

On tumblr, at least when the manga restarted, a lot of people who used to be in that Old Fandom had tried to not reproduce shipwars/hatred stuff all that much. I wouldn’t say we’re out of problems though, of course, and there are still some... casual issues. (like when the last chapter came out on Mangastream the comments were flooded with slurs because people considered the chapter “too gay”, and I even saw back some of the old “Allen is boring, let him be remplaced by Nea already” fight. me.)

So that’s about it i think? kdjhjkdfh

Take care!

#ichasalty #yooo the memories #Anonymous #ichareply

2 notes · View notes

illbeyourreasonwhy · 5 years

Text

So Much I Think It Must Be...

Chapter 6: I don’t hate you

Amber was sitting alone, legs dangling down through the bars, and Andi found herself moving towards her.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, knocking lightly on the doorway.

Andi wasn’t not having a good time, per say. She just wasn’t particularly enjoying herself. The music was too loud and she’d lost track of her friends, aside from Jonah who was making a name for himself on the dance floor. Watching him was entertaining for a few minutes, but after making sure she had enough blackmailing material she relocated to the kitchen.

It was thankfully empty and she hopped onto the counter, grabbing a cup to pour herself a new drink. Kitchens were always the places she liked hanging in the most during parties; they were usually taken up by people that were at least somewhat sober, and Andi often found herself pulled into conversations that were way more interesting than dancing in overheated rooms full of sweaty teenagers.

Parties weren’t really her thing.

(Well, that wasn’t completely true. Her parties, the ones she organised, with Bex djing and her friends having a great time? A blast. Parties with rooms overcrowded with people she didn’t really know? Not so much.)

Buffy: at least tell me you’re trying to socialise

Andi smiled softly to herself. While Buffy was always one to go out and dance with Marty, she would also often join Andi in the quiet shelter from the music. The two of them had had some of their most interesting conversations sitting on counters and watching people getting wasted, and Andi missed that. She missed her.

Me: jonah’s trying to convince people to learn the ‘beck dance’

Buffy: is it as bad as it sounds?

Me: yep

Buffy: wow, wish i could see that

“Hey, Andi. Long time no see.”

Andi looked up. Natalie leaned against the counter in front of her, cup in hand. She hadn’t changed; same ponytail, same easy smile, same aura of confidence radiating from her.

“Hey, Natalie.” She picked up her cup, trying to busy her hands. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good. My ultimate team won the championship this year, so we're pretty stoked about it.”

“That's cool. Congrats.”

“Thanks.” She smiled and took a sip from her cup. “Jonah looks like he’s having fun,” she commented after a moment.

Andi was tempted to smile and join into what was clearly a chance to push past the awkwardness there had always been between the two of them, but she didn’t. She thought of Jonah and Natalie’s history, of his excitement at the news of Natalie’s return, of how happy he and Libby had been earlier that day at the beach, and blurted out:

“You know Jonah has a girlfriend, right?”

Natalie raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. “Yeah, I heard. He won’t shut up about her.”

She said it with a fond smile, not a hint of jealousy, but Andi kept going, needing to make sure that Natalie wasn’t about to mess up her friends’ love lives.

“I’m just saying… that he’s taken. You know, in case you had any ideas.”

Natalie stared for a second, then burst out laughing. Andi watched, feeling like she was missing the punchline of a good joke.

“We’re just friends,” Natalie assured her when she calmed down. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested.”

“Okay,” Andi fumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Good. Sorry for… jumping to conclusions, or something.”

“It’s fine,” Natalie said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “You’re just looking out for your friends.”

She smiled again, laughter still glinting in her eyes, and Andi offered her a tentative one of her own.

“I do have one question, though.”

Andi felt her anxiety rise up a level. “Shoot,” she asked nonetheless.

“You do know I’m a lesbian, right?”

Andi dropped her cup. “Wh – what?”

Natalie laughed. “I guess not, then.”

Andi felt as if her entire worldview had been shattered. In her mind, Natalie had always been associated to Jonah, to her relationship with him. “But… you dated Jonah.”

Natalie raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, for like two seconds while I was still confused.”

“Oh.”

Andi tried to think of anything else to say. Natalie just laughed and shook her head, picking up the fallen cup and handing it back to her. “I'm actually dating Iris. That's mostly the reason I wanted to come back this summer.”

“Iris is on holiday,” Andi mumbled, trying to stop her brain from imploding.

“Yeah, that sucks. I'm staying over at her place when she comes back though.”

“Oh,” Andi said again.

Natalie laughed, pouring herself a drink. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, I’m just… surprised.”

“I can see that.” She shook her head, amused. “We’re good, right?”

“Yeah,” Andi mumbled, still trying to make sense of this. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Cool.” She moved away from the counter, offering her another smile. “See you around, then,” she said before leaving the kitchen.

Andi stared after her until a couple of boys walked in and shook her out of her trance. She didn’t understand why she was so affected by this.

Yeah, for like two seconds while I was still confused

Of course, Amber had explained compulsory heterosexuality to her several times during her coming out, but hearing it said so simply, from a girl she had always assumed was straight… It was making her think, and she was tired of fighting her brain over what she should and shouldn’t think about.

The boys laughed loudly and she almost jumped, startled. She needed to get out of here, get some air. The living room was a no-go, she thought to herself as she squeezed between way too many sweaty people, catching a glance of TJ and Cyrus talking in a corner. She zoomed through the door as fast as she could, unsure as to why she didn’t want them to see her, and found herself in the hallway. There were at least three different couples making out and she shook her head, taking the stairs in the hope of finding a less crowded place. She was about to give up and just sit on the floor and hope no one disturb her, when she saw someone on the balcony at the end of the hall.

Amber was sitting alone, legs dangling down through the bars, and Andi found herself moving towards her.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, knocking lightly on the doorway.

Amber shrugged, and Andi took that as a yes. She lowered herself to a crouch and, when Amber didn’t yell at her to leave, sat crossed legged on the other side of the balcony. It wasn’t a very big space, but she still managed to leave some room between them. They both sat in silence for a few minutes. Andi wasn’t sure if she was waiting for Amber to say something, but it seemed as though the other girl could not have cared less for the company. She continued staring ahead, legs occasionally swinging slightly, and generally ignoring Andi’s presence. Andi was beginning to consider leaving and pretending this had never happened, when Amber reached on her other side and took a half-full bottle of wine, taking a huge gulp.

“Woah, you might want to go easy on that,” she said before she could stop herself.

“Don’t worry,” Amber said bitterly, “I’ve gotten really good at this.”

And that… didn’t sound good. Andi might not exactly like Amber, but she didn’t resent her to the point that she could ignore her pain. She knew it wasn’t her place, especially since she had only realised Amber’s home life wasn’t easy earlier that day, but she couldn’t bring herself to continue acting as though Amber was fine when she was clearly not.

“Is everything okay at home?”

“Andi, I’m fine.”

Amber turned her head to look at her for the first time since Andi had sat down. She looked – well, Andi wasn’t sure. Her first instinct had been to think wrecked, but on closer inspection she couldn’t understand why she had thought that. Sure, Amber looked maybe a little tipsy, but aside from that there was nothing inherently wrong with her appearance. And yet…

Andi bit her lip in worry, and Amber’s eyes softened.

“I swear,” she said. Her lips twitched. “I appreciate the concern,” she added more gently.

Andi breathed in. “You sure?”

“Mhm-hm.”

Amber took a sip of wine, before pausing and, after a moment, offering the bottle to Andi. Andi shook her head, and Amber shrugged, taking another sip before setting it down.

She’d gone back to staring in the distance, and Andi found herself taking the opportunity to look at her. Despite Amber’s reassurance, she could feel worry churning in her gut; she wasn’t sure when she’d begun to care, but despite their constant arguing it appeared Amber had managed to worm her way into Andi’s – well, not heart, but at least an important part of her life. And for the first time in a really, really long time, Andi didn’t want to fight.

She couldn’t tell how long they sat that way, perfectly content in silence with Amber sporadically sipping wine. Andi occasionally snuck a few glances at the other girl, originally to make sure Amber really was okay and that her drinking wasn’t her spiralling, then simply because she wanted to. There was something so beautifully peaceful about the way she was sitting perfectly still, staring into the night as if it could rescue her from all of her troubles, and Andi suddenly wanted to draw her, to keep this image with her forever. But even if she had anything to draw with, she wasn’t sure she could look away.

For some reason, she couldn’t shake her interaction with Natalie.

“How did you know you liked girls?”

Amber whirled around, displaying more energy than she had had since Andi had arrived. Her eyes were wide, and Andi felt her cheeks heat up. She hadn’t meant to blurt that out, it just sort of… happened.

Amber fully turned to face Andi, folding her legs under herself, suddenly looking much more sober. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious,” Andi said, the words sticking to her throat. Amber didn’t look convinced, so she went on. “And I figured you’d be the only one not to ask me questions.”

Which was true. But is also wasn’t the whole truth.

Amber’s expression was unreadable. “It just never felt right with the boys,” she said, leaning both elbows on her knees. “I wanted them to like me, but once they did, I was just obsessed with making sure they still liked me, you know? I never cared about them as much as I wanted them to care about me.” She rested her chin in her hands. “Which sucked. For everyone involved.”

Andi nodded thoughtfully. “And it was like that with everyone?”

“Yeah.” She took the bottle, twirling it in her hands. “And even when I wasn’t being controlling or a crazy girlfriend or whatever, it just felt… wrong. I don’t know how else to describe it.” She set down the bottle, and Andi felt more relieved than she expected. “I had to face the fact that I was just kidding myself eventually. Cyrus helped a lot with that. Jonah too, surprisingly.” She let out a small laugh, although Andi couldn’t for the life of her understand what was funny. “I mean, it seems obvious looking back. It took me a while to realise it, though. Compulsory heterosexuality’s a bitch.”

Andi had heard that from her before. “Yeah,” she murmured. Amber glanced at her. “I can imagine.”

Amber opened her mouth, a curious look in her eyes, but just shrugged. “And then, you know, I finally let myself accept that the feelings I had for girls weren’t…” she paused, searching for the right word, “… platonic. I really liked them, and I stopped telling my brain to shut up when I thought about it for too long, and…” Andi was definitely not thinking about how familiar that sounded. Amber waved the rest of her words away. “I didn’t really know how to handle it, though, so I was kind of a bitch at times.”

“You’re still not the nicest person to me,” Andi said before she could stop herself. She immediately wanted to take it back, but Amber just raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth tugging up in amusement.

“Oh yeah? Well, you’re not exactly the nicest person to me either, Mack.”

Andi opened her mouth to apologise, but Amber already seemed to have moved on, taking a swig of her drink. Andi was starting to worry about how much alcohol she was consuming (not starting, more like continuing to worry).

She watched as Amber put the bottle down, her eyes setting into the distance again, and blurted out her next words before she could stop herself for the second time that night.

“I don’t hate you, you know.”

Amber turned to look back at her. “Huh?”

Andi swallowed. Amber’s comment from that morning had been bugging her since they had talked on the sidewalk, and she wanted to set things straight. “I mean, you’re a real pain to be around sometimes and one of your favorite pastimes seems to be making fun of me, but. I don’t. Hate you, I mean,” she finished lamely, fumbling for her words.

She expected Amber to laugh it off, or, most likely, to just ignore her and take another sip of her drink. Instead Amber turned so that she was fully looking at her, her eyes shining in the moonlight, and there was the hint of a smile on her lips.

Finally, just as Andi was about to ask her to stop looking at her like that, she straightened up and smirked. “Don’t hate you too, Andi.”

She passed the wine bottle over to her again, and this time Andi took a small sip, her eyes never leaving Amber. She was looking away now, and Andi suddenly wanted to start talking, about anything, anything that would make Amber look at her that way again.

But instead she just smiled slightly and handed the bottle back to her, not wanting to upset the precarious exchange.

#my writing #ambi #smitimb #andiman #amber #ambi fanfic #andi mack

0 notes

marvelleous · 7 years

Text

i want you forever (right here by my side) - chapter three

summary: Phil Coulson and Melinda May. Their story, from the very first day. notes: i wanted to thank everyone who commented on the last two chapters! you guys are awesome :) thank you to @agentsphilinda, @marcuskaen and @anarchycox for looking over this one for me!

songspiration: darling i’m a mess by sabrina carpenter

read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Phil loses his first team member to a rogue sniper in December of 1992.

He knows in hindsight that he should have seen it coming - they even had a class about dealing with the loss of one’s team mate or partner at the Academy. An hour long session every two weeks preparing them for the pain and loss they might have to experience in the future; teaching them the best methods of dealing with it, of coping. In their line of work - death is inevitable - but he doesn’t expect it to happen so suddenly, or hit so close to home. He’s lost people before, his father, his mother. But this time it’s different - this time that there is someone he can blame.

Himself.

He had designed this operation, had handled it from the very beginning. Every single detail had been mapped out by him; he’d been meticulous, organised. It was a level one mission, easy, simple, a milk run for the two level four specialists who had been assigned to his team.

It should have been a piece of cake; one last mission before everyone headed home for the holidays.

Phil has been in charge of half a dozen operations more difficult that this one, all with more danger, more risk. This was supposed to have been a basic retrieval op; two specialists, one to go in, and one to watch the other’s back. They had orders to drop and swap intel, and then get the hell out before they could be discovered.

It should have been smooth sailing.

But they had failed.

And now a good agent is dead.

Phil meets Agents Claire Matthews and Thomas Chan two weeks before their first and only mission together, at a field office in Seattle. He’s been a “fully fledged” field agent for nearly two and a half years, and has had a mission success rate of one hundred percent. He knows that the two level four specialists have been assigned to his team to give him a recommendation for promotion to a Level Two clearance, if all should go well.

He stresses and frets about their assessment in the days leading up to meeting the pair, but the moment he does, his worries are gone.

At his base in New York, Phil doesn’t have much of a chance to interact with higher level agents - they’re mostly level ones and twos who work together on low risk missions and occasionally deal with setup or clean up. Fury is level six, but he also first met the man after confronting him for being a stalker outside a convenience store, so he really doesn’t feel quite the same vibe from the guy. Two unknown specialists though - the prospect of meeting them gives him so much anxiety that he can barely sleep the night before.

In some ways, they are nothing like what he’s been expecting.

Physically they look like most other specialists Phil remembers from the Academy and occasionally encounters on missions. Agent Chan is very tall, muscled, and seeing him in his official uniform makes Phil question why S.H.I.E.L.D. trained guys like him when they could have men like that. Agent Matthews is a little shorter, leaner, but Phil has never underestimated the strength of a woman, and he feels a small swell of pity for anyone who might make such an idiotic mistake.

Personality wise… Phil doesn’t know how to react when Agent Chan manages to crack six jokes in the span of five minutes, and Agent Matthews just stands there beside him with an almost unsettling smirk each time a punchline is thrown into the air. His first reaction is to laugh - which is what Agent Chan appears to specialise in, but then again, he’s not sure whether the man’s jokes are meant to be funny, or if they’re some sort of inside reference meant only for Agent Matthews and that they’re purposely messing with him.

His internal conflict over the matter is quickly resolved however, when Agent Matthews makes a comment about the weather outside - there’s a blizzard - and Agent Chan drapes his arm over her shoulder, angling his fingers to tug at the end of her ponytail.

“Hey Claire, what do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?”

Phil watches with uncertainty as the question hangs in the silence for a moment, before Agent Matthews elbows Agent Chan sharply in the ribs with a huff.

“Frostbite. You get frostbite when you cross a snowman with a vampire. You told me that in Switzerland last month when we were buried in six feet of snow.”

Agent Chan doubles over in laughter, drawing attention from all the other agents at their desks, as Agent Matthews rolls her eyes at him and claps him none too softly across the back of his head. Phil stands opposite them, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck and maybe his confusion is really obvious, because the pair seem to take pity on him - at least Agent Matthews does - because she grabs Agent Chan by the arm and begins to escort him out of the room, waving for Phil to follow.

He can hear the snickers from behind him as he hurries to follow the specialists - he thinks that working with them for the next few weeks might not be so bad. They seem to be easy going enough and clearly work well together. And Agent Chan did have some pretty good jokes. He hopes that maybe he can even try a few himself. It would be nice to have someone around who could appreciate his humour.

Phil has always been a very observant person. He prefers to stand in the shadows and watch the interactions of others over making a point to participate. His training at the Communications Academy had only reinforced this - you could learn so much about a person just by studying their movements, facial expressions, reactions to things. All agents, from those in administration to their tactical teams had the ability to conceal their basic emotions to a certain degree, even from each other - but this was one area where his skills exceeded expectations. It was his job to learn everything he could about a person just by looking at them.

And in the three days he’s worked with Agent Chan and Agent Matthews, he’s learned much.

Agent Chan is very talkative. Likes to make friendly conversation with whoever he can, likes to “get to know” other people. He jokes around, can find something hilarious in just about any situation. Phil thinks that it might be a coping mechanism, to make light of unfortunate situations, to find hope even in the worst scenarios. But despite all the smiles, Agent Chan is also very quick to anger - there might be some underlying issues there. He’s a man with many emotions - Phil sees this first hand when attending one of their training sessions to scope out their skills. The files had a comprehensive list - but seeing it for himself made all the difference in the world.

Agent Matthews is a very attractive woman - only an idiot would deny that. She could easily pass for a model or an actress, but Phil thought her skills were much more impressive than her appearance. He had always known that female field agents and specialists were often disregarded by the more close minded. He saw it for himself from time to time. He never had to intervene; those imbeciles usually scurried away with their tail between their legs and blood pouring from their noses.

Phil is in one of the training rooms, watching the specialists hone their skills, when a pair of Level Two field agents begin to stir up trouble - snickering to one another in a way that he knows means trouble is coming.

“Look at Barbie’s legs, wonder what they’d look like wrapped around -”

The man, Agent Landon, doesn’t have the opportunity to finish his remark, because before Phil even has a chance to react, Agent Chan has the guy pinned up against the wall, arm at his throat, holding him up so his feet are dangling, unable to reach the ground.

As much as Phil might enjoy seeing a sleazebag who would make such comments pummeled into the ground, he’d hate to lose his specialist for his next mission, and decides it’s probably for the best that he try to intervene. He doesn’t have much standing as a Level One, but he might be able to talk some sense into Agent Chan. He can’t hear what the specialist is whispering, but from the look on the other guy’s face, Phil’s guessing that the words are none too pretty. He’s halfway across the room when Agent Matthews beats him to the punch, running over to her partner and placating him with a hand on his elbow. Phil is not even sure that words are exchanged between the two, but then Agent Chan slowly lowers the guy to the ground, holding him against the wall for a moment longer, before drawing his arm back and breaking Agent Landon’s nose with a sickening crack.

Agent Landon’s buddy scurries forward and grabs him by the arm, presumably dragging him off to medical, and Agent Chan is shaking his fist, opening and closing his hand with a grimace. Phil takes a step back, unsure of how to handle this situation, scratching the back of his head for a moment before making the decision to let them handle it themselves. There’s not much he can do but sit back and watch at this point.

Agent Matthews drops down onto the mats, pulling Agent Chan with her and begins to inspect his hand. Phil can’t hear what they’re saying; this would be a convenient time to have super hearing to be honest, but they both look pissed even as she runs gentle fingers over his bruised knuckles. He’s pretty adept at lip reading, but that is a skill that is not really required in this particular situation - Agent Matthews is clearly angry that Agent Chan defended her, lost his temper, and nearly smashed a colleagues face in, and Agent Chan is clearly annoyed but also ashamed of how he handled the situation.

Their frowns eventually morph into smiles as they speak - and not for the first time, Phil questions the relationship between the two specialists. S.H.I.E.L.D. has it’s protocols, but no rules that people aren’t willing to break, for a good enough reason. Plenty of agents are in relationships with coworkers - but most aren’t involved with those that they actively work with. It makes for too many distractions in the field, especially when you are too busy watching your partner’s back to focus on the mission.

The logical part of him thinks that it’s too dangerous, too risky. They already put their lives on the line out there - it’s too easy to be distracted, lose focus and put others in danger.

The still hopeful part of him thinks that a love like that may be the best kind of love there is. Committed to the cause, committed to your partner. Out there fighting together, having someone by your side who means everything to you. The closest to a normal life a field agent like him will probably ever get.

He doesn’t see it happening.

But that doesn’t stop him from wanting it.

Phil likes the S.H.I.E.L.D. van. He really does. It has heating, video surveillance from the forty best vantage points - thanks to the tech patching them through back at the nearest base, and is basically a glorified metal can to hold their gear and keep him from getting shot at. And so he sits back and watches the fuzzy feeds, a standard issued bullet-proof vest over his suit and tie, and a gun in it’s holster, ready to act if need be.

Once Agent Matthews returns with the intel, she’ll be picked up by another car, driven by a field agent that had joined their team last week. Phil would wait for the all clear, before giving Agent Chan the signal to leave his post, and they would take a second path back to their safe house and wait it out for a day before heading back to base. He has it all planned out to the very last detail - even choosing Agent Matthews’ outfit for the evening himself.

She had taken one look at the gown and shoes and snorted, enough to voice her disdain but kind enough to not comment out loud and really hurt Phil’s feelings. Even when she had changed at the safe house, modelling the dress for them, she had done so with an expression of displeasure, only smiling once Agent Chan had moved over to her, tugging on a stray curl and whispering something in her ear. Phil had felt his face redden at the display, still not entirely sure of the relationship between the two. He had closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand, and when he opened his eyes again, Agent Matthews and Chan were back to business, disassembling rifles beside him.

He can see Agent Matthews now too, in several of the videos on the tiny screens on one wall of the van. She’s moving around at the party, making small talk with all the right people before she goes in to retrieve the intel. Phil can only faintly hear the noise of the party, her voice and laughter drowning most of it out of the surrounding sound. In contrast, Agent Chan is completely unseen - he’s on the rooftop of the neighbouring building, positioned so that no one can get a glimpse - if S.H.I.E.L.D. has surveillance, there is no telling who might have it too. It’s not a risk Phil is willing to take just to keep an eye on a Level 4 specialist who can take care of himself.

Agent Matthews makes a comment about it to him, saying she respects his way of thinking, but that she’d prefer that he reconsidered.

He stands by his decision.

It soon becomes his biggest regret.

“Eagle is in the hutch. I’m on my way out.”

“Copy that.”

Phil tracks Agent Matthews’ movements through the different monitors as she makes her exit, slow enough as to not arouse suspicion, but fast enough to escape before discovery. She is in the doorway of the building when the chaos begins.

“Hey Claire. What did the grape do when he got stepped on?”

Phil can actually see Agent Matthews roll her eyes, even through the less than quality black and white image, and he can definitely hear the huff of annoyance she lets out.

“Really?”

“He let out a little -”

His words cut off there, the same moment a loud bang echoes through the night, and Phil can hear Agent Matthews’ scream, see a blur falling through the air, before the exact moment of impact.

The van shakes with it.

He can see the crumpled form of Agent Chan’s body, the front half hanging into the driver’s seat through the smashed windshield from eight different angles on his wall of surveillance.

Phil forces himself to take a deep breath, clenches his hands into fists to try and stop them from shaking as he jumps straight to “Plan F” - the last resort.

“Agent Sutton, we need evac. I’m calling in the clean up crew.”

He shoves the radio back into his pocket, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and slams his hand against the “use only in the case of emergencies” button, before slipping out the back door, shutting it with a quiet bang.

They have five minutes before the van blows.

The ride back to base is quite possibly the most uncomfortable Phil has ever experienced. He’s sitting in the front with Agent Sutton, whose knuckles are white from how tightly she is gripping the steering wheel.

They can both hear the sounds of Agent Matthews’ cries.

Phil had offered to let her sit up front - he could keep an eye on the body. See up close the outcome of his failures. She had screamed when they tried to pull her away from Agent Chan, completely in hysterics, and they’d had no choice but to let her stay put, half lying on top of his broken body.

Her silver gown must be stained with blood now.

Just like his hands.

He doesn’t think any amount of scrubbing will wash it away.

They don’t speak again, not properly, until two days later, sitting opposite one another in the back of a jet flying them to Minnesota. He doesn’t know how to broach the subject - How does one apologise for killing someone’s partner?

He doesn’t have to.

“Thank you for saving my life, Phil.”

He looks up to meet her gaze, her eyes are red, he thinks that she probably hasn’t stopped crying since the incident, but he can see that her words are sincere. He must look confused, because she continues, voice cracking a little as she speaks.

“You reacted quickly. Got us out of there before any more damage could be done. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead too.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but the words just don’t come. He… he wants nothing more that to say sorry. Express his regret. If only he had listened to her, kept a closer eye on things. Agent Chan would still be alive. They wouldn’t be flying over to break the news to his family.

Tell them someone they loved was now dead.

Agent Matthews had insisted on going alone, but Phil was responsible, and he had to be there. To say sorry. To give her someone to lean on if they didn’t take the information well. He’s never done this before, but he expects it’ll be a common occurrence in the future.

He stays quiet because he doesn’t think she wants to talk - she didn’t say much in the two weeks he had known her - Agent Chan… he had done most of the talking. But now that he’s gone, there’s an uncomfortable silence that she clearly feels the need to fill.

He’s glad. The therapist he had sat down with for an hour yesterday had said talking about things is a way of coping. That for some, it’s cathartic. He… he really hasn’t been able to speak about his experiences yet. So all he can do is listen.

“We met first year, at the Academy. I dislocated his jaw when we sparred, and the next thing I knew, I had a best friend. He loved to joke around, talked so much that sometimes I wanted to tape his mouth shut. But what I’d give now just to hear one of his stupid jokes again.”

Phil thinks that he understands. He doesn’t have a best friend, a partner, but when Agent Matthews describes her relationship with Agent Chan, he can’t help but think about May, think about their brief but memorable moments together, think about how he might feel if she was dead.

It was not something he wanted to linger on his mind.

He’s memorised their files. They’ve been partners since their graduation in 1984. Losing your best friend of more than ten years… he thinks back to how he was when his mother passed… feels an overwhelming sadness that time can only try to heal.

The pain never really goes away.

It’s December 23rd.

The significance of the date doesn’t click in Phil’s mind until he’s in the car with Agent Matthews, and he stares out at the world from his passenger side window.

There’s only two sleeps until Christmas.

The whole city is covered in a thick blanket of snow, the air is heavy with the falling flakes. The sun has already set for the day, and the streets are sparkling with lights; every house they pass is extravagantly decorated.

Phil sees Santa, his reindeer, and various other Christmas themed structures, all decorations that bring him back to his childhood in Wisconsin and climbing up onto the roof with his father to string lights around. He almost loses himself in the feeling of it - he hasn’t celebrated properly since his mother’s death. There had been Christmas during fourth year at the Academy where Garrett had gotten so drunk he’d publicly urinated all over the side of their dorm building. That was a funny, if disturbing, memory.

The car begins to slow down at the end of the street, and Phil doesn’t even have to ask to know which house belongs to the family of Agent Chan.

Season’s Greetings is written in multi-coloured lights across the roof, and there are a giant pair of salt and pepper shakers, wrapped with white string lights sitting on the front lawn. Agent Matthews parks by the curb where the snow had likely been cleared earlier in the day, and he can see her out of the corner of his eye, just sitting there, breathing in and out. He reaches over and softly pats her arm, and she forces a smile, nodding a few times, before undoing her seatbelt and opening up the door.

They walk up the paved pathway together in complete silence. Phil can almost smell the dinner cooking inside, hear the carols playing. What a way to spend Christmas. He hangs back, standing behind Agent Matthews as she goes to ring the doorbell. A robotic Jingle Bells chimes out - someone must have changed it for the holidays, and moments later, the door swings open, and Phil is greeted with the sight of a woman in a hideous Christmas sweater and a wide smile on her face, one that fades as soon as she recognises who in fact it is on her doorstep.

She doesn’t say another word, just opens the door and gestures for them to come in. Agent Matthews follows the woman into the kitchen, and gestures for Phil to stay back, so he’s left standing awkwardly in the front foyer, checking out his surroundings. This house feels like home. There is a Christmas tree set up in the sitting room - he can only see about a quarter of it from where he is - and photos line the walls. There’s several of Agent Chan and the woman, who Phil realises now must be his significant other. And he had been so sure too… about Agent Chan and Agent Matthews…

His thoughts are interrupted by the pitter patter of tiny feet, and he sees a little girl standing at the bottom of the stairs, in an equally horrible Christmas sweater, a teddy bear in her arms and an expression of curiosity.

“Where’s Daddy?” she asks him in her high pitched voice and Phil’s heart breaks as he hears the gut wrenching sobs coming from the kitchen.

His mistakes had torn a partnership apart. Torn a family apart. There was a woman who would never get her husband back, a little girl who would wonder why Daddy hadn’t come home for Christmas.

He tries to fall asleep later that evening, lying in bed at the crappy motel room S.H.I.E.L.D. had found for them last minute, but all he can see is Agent Chan’s body lying there, bones shattered, bullet in his skull, blood everywhere.

It turns out he’s not the only one who can’t sleep when Agent Matthews shows up at his room well past midnight, a bottle of cheap tequila in one hand and they drink their worries away. Phil doesn’t remember much of what happened that night, only that his dreams had been empty.

When he wakes up the next day, Agent Matthews is sitting cross-legged on the other side of his bed, filling in a mission report. She passes him lukewarm coffee in a styrofoam cup, probably from the vending machine in the hallway, and they’re silent as he slowly sobers up. She hands him the report when she’s finished with it, and pats his bare shoulder with a small smile.

“Thanks for being there for me. I really needed that. We’re flying back out in two hours, so you’ll have plenty of time to get ready.”

His eyes follow her until she leaves the room, and then he flops back against the lumpy pillow hands covering his face, hiding his expression from nobody.

Phil returns to New York a week later, and his body is close to shutting down from lack of sleep. He can’t eat without feeling nauseous, can’t even close his eyes without the sound of screaming in his ears, the smell of blood surrounding him, the image of his fallen comrade ingrained into his memory.

He has a week and a half of mandated time off to “recover” for the ordeal, but he can’t help but drop in to work and pick a few things up from his desk - straighten things out before he confines himself to his tiny S.H.I.E.L.D. apartment for the next nine days. He sneaks in at three in the morning, shortly after his jet touches down, and expects to find the office empty - it’s technically New Year’s Day and everyone else is off celebrating.

He doesn’t have much to be positive about.

Until he finds his office chair occupied by the one person he is least prepared to see.

Melinda May.

She’s lounging in his seat, her feet up on his desk, and he’s pretty sure she’s combing through one of his mission files. She smirks when she sees him approaching, and he sits down on the edge of his desk, opposite her, swatting at her legs.

“Boots off the table.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes and begins to move, but instead of just lowering her feet to the ground like he’d expected, she pushes off and sends herself flying backwards into the desk behind her.

“All commanding now that you’re Level Two, Agent Coulson,” she quips, waving the file in the air with a smirk. He snatches it out of her grip and drops it back onto his desk, trying to mask his surprise with annoyance.

He had not expected a good recommendation. Not after what had happened.

“If I’m Level Two then you don’t have clearance to read that file, Agent May.”

“Shiny new promotion and already pulling rank. And to think I came all the way out to pay you a visit.”

She’s teasing him now, giving him a cheeky grin that has him wanting to smile for the first time in a week.

“What you doing here anyway? I’m not supposed to be back in till the 10th.”

It’s three hours past New Year’s Eve and the closest person he has to a friend is paying him a visit instead of doing whatever else it was she could be. He should be grateful to see her, but he can’t quite figure out what possessed her to turn up and wait for him in his deserted office.

“We have a mission at the end of the month to start thinking about. After your break of course.”

He nods slowly. Just thinking about another operation is enough to give him a headache. But at least with May around, he thinks it’ll be enjoyable enough. He sighs, glancing at the stack of files on his desk. The recommendation May had been reading is sitting at the top. He had been rewarded, despite his failures.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and he knows that it’s her way of comforting him. She doesn’t know why he’s upset; the official reports have yet to be submitted. She probably thinks that he’s just stressed and feeling alone in the holiday season.

Most people didn’t know it about her, but Melinda May always put others before herself.

“I like to think I know you pretty well. Heard you’d be back in town today; had a feeling you’d be here. Plus, my date was a total bust. Thought I might spend the first day of the New Year in better company, seeing as I’m stuck with my mother for the next week.”

He really smiles this time.

Maybe he can have one more night of peaceful sleep before the nightmares return again to haunt him. He has an appointment with another therapist in a few days time; he thinks he can hold it in till then. He hopes they clear him for active duty after the psyche evaluation.

He’s looking forward to working with May again.

He’s also terrified that he might fail again.

#philinda #philinda fanfiction #otp: she means everything to me #type: fanfiction #ff: bs #originelle fic

31 notes · View notes

sage-nebula · 7 years

Note

Hello! I want to get into watching the Office because it seems really good and I loved Parks and Rec, but everytime I start watching I can't make myself continue. The first few episodes are just like... the punchline that everyone is racist just happens too often for me to swallow. Is there a point where I can start watching where the writers kind of leaned away from this or should I just tough it out?

Hi! So, this is going to be a long answer, and I hope that’s all right, haha. As someone who loves both The Office and Parks and Recreation (though I actually like The Office a bit more, even though I think Parks & Rec is more consistent across the seasons in terms of quality), I have a lot of thoughts on both.

So, here’s the thing:

Although The Office and Parks and Recreation were created/produced by the same guy (guys? I know that Michael Schur for sure worked on both, though I think there was one other person working on both as well), they’re very different in tone. Whereas Parks and Recreation tends to be more optimistic and idealistic (in that even when things go wrong for the cast in the short-term, in the long-term they’re almost guaranteed to succeed, and even when there’s squabbling and bickering, for the most part the characters tend to be optimistic, and idealism---particularly Leslie’s idealism---is rewarded), The Office tends to be more caustic and cynical. Things very often don’t succeed for these characters in the short-term (long-term projects don’t happen as often, and even then there are a few big long-term failures), and they’re much, much more prone to being snarky and cynical. Additionally, whereas snark and cynicism are often “punished” on Parks and Recreation (in that the cynics are usually proven wrong/converted to idealism, again, usually by Leslie), this isn’t the case on The Office. Not only is The Office a world of snark, but since things don’t tend to magically work themselves out on The Office due to it arguably being a more realistic setting (I mean, Pawnee, Indiana isn’t even an actual city that exists, whereas The Office takes place in the very real Scranton, Pennsylvania), cynicism isn’t punished here because having a more idealistic outlook---particularly without the experience or power necessary to back it up---is more likely to backfire than it is to succeed. (i.e., although Michael very often wants everything to magically work out . . . it usually doesn’t.) And that’s not to say that The Office is a depressing show where everyone always loses, because that’s not true, but it is to say that while the antagonists on Parks and Recreation are caricatures of people rather than opponents that actually exist (and as such our idealistic protagonists can more easily overcome them), the problems and antagonists on The Office are more grounded in reality and, as such, reality tends to ensue.

So with that said, I first want to address something you said about the early episodes, which is here:

“The first few episodes are just like... the punchline that everyone is racist just happens too often for me to swallow.”

I actually find it interesting that this is your viewpoint, because my opinion is that The Office, as a whole, actually tends to show this attitude in a negative light!

The episode I think you’re mainly thinking of happens in season one, and it’s episode two (I believe)---“Diversity Day.” In it, corporate has sent an ethics counselor to the Scranton branch of Dunder-Mifflin (where our main cast is employed) to give a diversity seminar because Michael, the boss, imitated a Chris Rock routine and was rather ignorantly racist while doing so. Michael, of course, hates the idea that anyone but him could be in charge (and is also too ignorant to realize exactly how and why he was being racist), and as such he not only ruins the seminar, but then proceeds to make everything more offensive by having “diversity activities” throughout the day. This culminates in him being slapped for real by Mindy Kaling, who was playing Kelly Kapoor.

Now, with that being said, I can understand why that would be hard to swallow! It’s not easy to see a character acting like that. But the thing about The Office is that we’re not supposed to be laughing with Michael, or sympathizing with him; it’s very intentionally framed (in my view, anyway) that he is in the wrong when he does things like this. We see this via the more heroic characters in The Office finding what he’s doing wrong, offensive, awful, and very often calling him on it (especially as the series goes on). For instance, in “Diversity Day,” it’s clear that no one there really approves of what he’s doing. They’re all going along with it because they have to, but while there are some characters who do hold bigoted viewpoints as well (e.g. Dwight and Angela, who are also not shown in a heroic light, especially at that point in the show), the characters that we’re meant to sympathize with (e.g. Jim, Pam, Oscar) don’t agree with what’s going on, and usually say so. (e.g. Pam says, “Based on stereotypes which are not true and that I do not agree with . . .) So in this case, it’s not, “haha, racism is funny!” but more, “my god, this guy is such an ignorant ass, and yet there are people like him out there, and people like these office workers who have to suffer through it.”

And that’s the thing: Parks and Recreation has a lot less of that (once they stop trying to have Leslie be Michael near the end of S2---because she made quite a few ignorant/racist comments toward Tom in the first two seasons), but it was also more of an idealistic show. The Office shows that people have prejudices, bigotry, et cetera, but always in a negative light. We’re never supposed to sympathize with Michael when he makes comments like that, and we’re certainly not meant to sympathize with disgusting characters like Todd Packer (who I believe is introduced in S2, but he might make an appearance in S1). Granted, Packer’s scenes are never funny to me regardless, but he is important to show Michael’s growth later on, so. Regardless, although The Office does include things like that, they’re never meant to be the punchline. It’s not, “laugh at the racism!” but rather “isn’t this awful? and isn’t it awful when things like this happen in your workplace? because we know they do, we’re sure of it, even if we’re exaggerating it a tad for comedic effect.” Especially later on, that sort of behavior is always framed as wrong.

WITH ALL OF THAT SAID! (I told you this was going to be a long response, haha, I have a lot of feelings.)

Just like how Parks and Recreation’s first season was so horrible that even the cast denounces it (“Don’t bring up those shitty episodes!” said Aziz Ansari during a cast panel), it’s pretty much agreed upon that the first season of The Office is the weakest season as well, due largely in part to the producers trying to create the British original. In fact, the first episode is pretty much a shot-for-shot remake of the British original. In season two, however, they break away from the U.K. formula and become their own thing, and from then on it’s pretty much unanimously decided that the U.S. The Office surpasses that of the British original. The characters become fleshed out, the storylines become deeper, and overall the show vastly improves.

So, with all of that said?

I do still recommend toughing it out through the first season since it’s only six episodes long, and there are some great little subplots in the first season as well (such as Jim and Dwight’s alliance). Plus, there are a few nuggets of plot in the first season that continue into the second (such as Jim’s temporary girlfriend, Katy). But if you’re having trouble with the first season (and I don’t blame you!), then I would recommend skipping the first two episodes (“Pilot” and “Diversity Day”). That leaves you with:

“Health Care”

“The Alliance”

“Basketball”

“Hot Girl”

The most important episode here is “Hot Girl” (which is the last episode of season one), due to the fact that Katy is introduced in it, and she makes reappearances in season two. That said, I think the others are worth watching as well. “Health Care” has some great shenanigans in it, shows how ineffectual Michael is as a boss/how desperate he is to be liked, and is good for Jim/Pam content; “The Alliance” has the hilarious subplot of Jim and Dwight’s alliance, which, trust me, is more hilarious than it sounds; “Basketball” does have more of Michael’s ignorance (he’s ignorant a lot, it’s a marked character flaw, but he’s never rewarded for it and he develops through it as time goes on), but I feel that it’s still important for Jim/Pam content; and “Hot Girl” is necessary for reasons started above.

All of that said, again: There is a noticeable quality jump from the very first episode in season two, “The Dundies,” which is where some of the most notable quotes from the show come from (e.g. “I feel God in this Chili’s tonight”). So if you really want to you can skip straight to that, but I recommend at least watching “Hot Girl” first, as well as the others noted in the bullet list.

Again, sorry this is so long, but please feel free to ask for further clarification! The Office is definitely one of those shows, I think, that has a certain tone to it that can be a bit hard to get used to---but I also think it’s really worth it, and it does have its successes and moments of idealism as well. (In fact, the series ends with one of the most hopeful quotes imaginable (“There’s a lot of beauty in ordinary things. Isn’t that kind of the point?”), so there is definitely some hope there. There’s just also a lot of, well . . . snark, too, haha.)

#chinonshou

7 notes · View notes