#Danish movie poster

[illustraction]

ROCCO AND HIS BROTHERS (1960) - ALAIN DELON MOVIE POSTERS (Part 17/20)

ALAIN DELON' credits Luchino Visconti to be as important as his father whom he barely knew and his mentor in making him an Actor as he filmed 3 movies with him (see Part 1)

Above are original movie posters from Denmark, Italy, Japan, Switzerland and the US (click on each image for details)

Director: Luchino Visconti Actors: Alain Delon, Annie Girardot, Claudia Cardinale

ALL OUR ALAIN DELON POSTERS ARE HERE

If you like this entry, check the other 19 parts of this week’s Blog as well as our Blog Archives

All our NEW POSTERS are here All our ON SALE posters are here

The posters above courtesy of ILLUSTRACTION GALLERY

[hopefulmilkshakeengineer]

Movies you just need to watch before you die

(pictures isn't mine)

[cinemoments]

The Danish Girl, dir. Tom Hooper, 2016.

[loan0u]

I made a graphic design poster for Drunk! Lovely movie I needed to make something about it. Yes yes as you can tell I don't just draw (:

[vsthepomegranate]

I, a Woman (1965)

by Mac Ahlberg

[movie--posters]

[fashionlandscapeblog]

Ordet, 1955 - dir. Carl Theodor Dreyer

[portal-to-the-past]

Danish poster of Perils of Nyoka - 1942

Source

[theaskew]

[darlingkirstein]

eremika in any sort of romcom setting hehe

i think this is romcom-y enough??? idk it's a silly little meet cute in fantastically cheesy unrealistic scenario so i think it fits the romcom vibe Teehee🩷 hope you enjoy my pookie wookie vic <3

actor au / fluffy / rated e for everyone / 3.6k

Mikasa toils over the counter, sifting through the different orders — many have rather well-renowned names attached — to decide which ones to tackle first. Being a barista proves more difficult than she initially imagined. All she needed was a simple job to help pay the rent; the coffee shop being on a movie studio lot has been an added bonus, a chance to mingle with stars.

And by mingle, she means floundering interactions with the latest growing stars with their persnickety drink orders, some quick to complain at the smallest errors. Whenever she gets the opportunity to see someone whose likeness is stamped on a poster in her room, Mikasa mangles all attempts at compliments. Trying to praise their work only culminates in rosy cheeks and baffled looks shot back in return.

Exhaling, she gets to work, going through the orders in a procession ascending from least complicated to most tedious. Everyone seems to want extra toppings these days, extra pumps of artificial syrups that turn their 'coffee' into little more than an excessively-priced milkshake. Whatever gets them through the day, she supposes. Making a movie is tricky work.

Mikasa understands this. Sorta. Or at least, she's attempting to. The acting jobs haven't exactly been falling into her lap, though basic probability encourages her that at least one of these countless auditions have to turn into something. She's desperate for anything — at one of her past attempts, an audition for a medicine commercial, the casting agent giggled midway through her delivery of some poorly-written script. The best Mikasa's ever gotten was being an extra for an episode of a new television show — which was promptly cancelled after a first season.

She finishes an affogato and a raspberry danish for Marilyn Lawrence, lounging around on her lunch break from shooting Saturn's Divinity. It apparently takes too much effort to acknowledge Mikasa's calls of her name, too preoccupied by whatever's on her phone to pay much attention.

"Marilyn!" Mikasa repeats, nervous for yet another celebrity interaction. Lawrence only just won a BAFTA for her performance in This Holy House.

With a scoff, the actress strolls to the counter, barely mouthing a thanks before sulking back to a table, carrying all her actress-y things with.

It's hard not to feel like pond scum when the upper echelons of the acting world are hardly willing to spare her simple pleasantries, yet alone anything resembling kindness. Mikasa brushes it off, moving onto the next order.

She just gets started before Marilyn returns.

"This isn't gluten-free, is it?" The spiteful manner in which she asks has Mikasa stammering even before she attempts to answer her question.

"I, uh— I actually don't know. Let me check."

Flustered, she ducks down, foraging for a paper or manual that lists the ingredients. This is something Mikasa knows she should remember, but this job has squeezed out so much of her brain capacity that little else remains.

"You really don't remember?" Marilyn laughs, and Mikasa can hear her continued click-clacking on the phone keyboard, probably complaining to a friend. "You could've killed me, y'know. People have this little thing called celiac. It's important."

Mikasa suspects that Marilyn Lawrence does not have Celiac disease, but she isn't willing to invite even more wrath. "I'm sorry, ma'am, you're—"

"Whatever. Just figure it out and fix it."

When Mikasa falls quiet to continue her search, she expects the frustration to simmer; it doesn't, and Marilyn continues to berate her, though most of her comments are utterly nonsensical. Mikasa's manager is nowhere to be found, useless for getting her out of this less-than-lovely situation.

Her savior comes in the form of a grey-haired gentleman in a suit, bewildered as he bursts through the door, scanning everyone inside — until his gaze falls on Mikasa. He smiles, cell phone pressed tightly against his ear. Though she cannot pin down his name, Mikasa recognizes him as some movie producer, a real big shot.

"You there! Barista! Come with me."

Stunned, Mikasa points to her chest. "Me?"

Marilyn scoffs again. "Uh, hello? What about me?"

The man ignores the Hollywood A-lister, brushing past her to reach the counter. "Yes, you. We need you. I'll explain when we get there. Come on."

Head in a tizzy, Mikasa cocks her head — squinting her eyes, unsure that she isn't fast asleep in the clutches of a dream. What did some movie executive want with some barista?

"I— I think you have the wrong person."

"Jesus, there's no time for this." He turns to the side, muttering harsh words into the phone. "Yeah— I found someone. Just give us a second."

He turns his attention back to Mikasa.

"Are you gonna come with or not? We need you."

At this point, Marilyn has surpassed the angry-scolding-stage and lands in stunned silence. Mikasa still doesn't know what she's needed for, but angering a Hollywood exec is a surefire way to get blacklisted from any future opportunities. They don't want any dead weight in a cast.

"Uh, yeah— No, I'll— I'll go. I'll go."

Opportunities like this are so rare. Mikasa gets so consumed by this fleeting chance that angering her boss isn't even a concern she consciously entertains. As the executive's eyes burn a hole through her head, she feels hypnotized to untie her apron, tossing it aside. It's tempting to pinch her arm, still convinced of a REM-induced trick, but before she can ponder it, Mikasa is crossing the counter, calling her co-worker's name.

The coffee shop's manager finally appears, and as Mikasa is whisked away by the executive's firm grasp, his protests join Marilyn's, though both go utterly unanswered as Mikasa jumps onto a golf cart waiting outside the doors.

It's hard not to feel like Cinderella climbing onto that pumpkin carriage, ready for the ball.

Mikasa's heart races. She tries guessing what possibly awaits her at the end of this ride. Some secret meeting? An agent, excited to tell her that they've been monitoring her auditions and love what they see? All options feel like a pipe dream.

They arrive at an outdoor filming set, and Mikasa wonders over the absolute chaos going on, the cameramen adjusting their equipment, the mousy-haired director shouting commands through his microphone, guiding the team. She recognizes from the lovey-dovey set design that this must be for Before Affection Retires.

"Hey," the executive barks, snapping his fingers, breaking her free from her daze. "Go over to that trailer. Get in costume and then get back here."

Costume? Mikasa is dazed. She can't produce any discernible response, tumbling out of the cart, speedwalking toward the right trailer. She's never done something requiring a costume, only her plain-old, regular street clothes, blending in easily in the background. This is all new.

Before she knows it, Mikasa is donned in a pretty dress that stops just below her knees, its color somewhere between plum and maroon, the shoulders flowy and graceful. The makeup process was even more foreign — Mikasa's daily makeup routine is simplistic to the core, but the stylist here wanted her eyelashes to pop, seductive and primed for romance. A curling iron turns her hair into bouncy, bombshell waves.

She feels so unlike herself, but adrenaline sends her speeding back for the scene of the action, toward the director still barking out commands.

"You!" He cries, pointing. "Get over here! We're starting a shoot in five minutes. Get a script."

Mikasa wonders if every movie set is this hostile, or if everyone here is just having a bad day. One page from the script gets pressed against her chest, along with one order. "Memorize this."

But before she can begin, a frazzled assistant debriefs her on the whole debacle, leading her to the side and gesturing around wildly.

"You know what you're doing? Can you act?"

Mikasa blinks. "Uh, yeah? I can, yeah."

It's clear that answer doesn't instill a whole lot of confidence in the assistant, but regardless, there's apparently no time to waste on nonsense.

"Diana Baldwin is a no show. There's no time in the schedule to skip her scenes today. You'll be filling in for her for the kiss scene. Got all that?"

Diana Baldwin? That's who I'm filling in for?

There's no time to be starstruck. "Got it. Yup."

"Alright, good. You'll say the lines, and they'll do the ADR in post production. You're just a stand-in. That's it. Don't expect overnight fame, yeah?"

Mikasa nods fervently, still so confused. "No fame. That's— I'm no— Why am I here?"

The question comes out without thinking, but that thought hasn't left her mind since the coffee shop, never able to ask in the swirl of chaos.

"You look like her from the back. Same height, same build. The editors can work their magic."

She'll be little more than a green screen, but the thrill of being on a big movie set, stepping in for an actress she's long admired, is worth it.

"Where do I go? Do I— How much time?"

"Three minutes. Get studying."

Mikasa sends herself into a corner to study, scanning the swoonworthy dialogue for the upcoming scene. A big scene. Important, crucial as the romantic climax for a major Hollywood production, and it depends on her.

The words sink in slowly, as best as they can. The last thing Mikasa wants is to earn a director's ire by flubbing the script to a laughable degree. She prepares herself to be flirty, desirable.

"You! Get ready to shoot."

Mikasa scoots into the filming area, finding the mark on the grass guiding her position. As she assumes the position provided by the script, glancing absentmindedly toward the side, she catches glimpses of camera operators approaching, microphones getting closer.

"Action!"

As directed, Mikasa tilts her eyes upward — finally catching a view at her co-star. Damn near jeopardizing the sanctity of the shoot, she struggles hard to keep her jaw from dropping.

Eren Jaeger. A total heartthrob. Mikasa's harbored a subtle (not really) crush on him for the last few years, just when he began his ascent into Hollywood relevancy. She's seen most of his movies, praising multiple as her favorites. God, Mikasa knows she'll even watch the less-than-savory options, the ones without glowing reviews — independent films with tiny budgets and screenwriters that need fine tuning. She has his films ranked by her favorites, but even that is a difficult list to maintain. Though his social media presence isn't huge, Mikasa keeps up with him.

And now she gets to kiss him.

He wears an outfit so casually suave, a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, the first couple buttons undone for an alluring effect. His shoulder-length hair is something you'd seen on a 1990s teen pop culture magazine, harkening to the age of 'effortless' hairstyles, so swooshy. Mikasa chooses Eren over a young Leonardo DiCaprio any day of the week without hesitation.

The lines nearly slip from Mikasa's memory. She's supposed to be flirty with Eren Jaeger; now, her tasks feels all the more insurmountable to live up to, the standards raised to their highest level.

As Eren approaches, he grins. Mikasa has to remind herself that it's the character he's smiling so pretty at, not her. Some fake girl. Not her.

The tragedy of that causes her to almost miss her first line, but she pulls it together. "You came?"

"Obviously," he replies, laughing, his palms immediately cupping her cheeks. Mikasa's glad the camera isn't focused on her face — which has turned a humiliating shade of red. "You didn't think I'd really leave you behind, did you?"

Mikasa swallows. What was the line? She exhales, as propositioned, smiling, mustering up as much desperation in her tone as she can. "I don't know." This young actress has never been this nervous. "You seemed like you were in a pretty big hurry."

Here comes the most swoonworthy dialogue, the part that'll send Mikasa into cardiac arrest. Eren, or whatever his character's name is, draws her closer, their noses rubbing together. The cameras are almost intrusive now — just like they've always been in her screen tests, her daunting auditions, the technology recording her failure.

At Eren's advancing touches, Mikasa recalls another direction from the script — touch him. She nervously rests her shaky fingers on his waist, clutching his shirt. Eren Jaeger's shirt. His smell is intoxicating this close, subtle but unbelievably attractive. Potent. He continues.

"No. Never. C'mon, El. Can't leave you. You know I can't leave you. Don't give a damn about all that."

Without context, Mikasa has no idea what all that even means, but it's irrelevant. Eren has his hands grasping her face, ready to confess his deepest feelings. She swallows hard, clearing her throat.

"Don't make promises you can't keep. You'll wanna leave again. I can't keep you here."

Her delivery has a shakier quality to it than a professional actress might have, but Mikasa's just proud of herself for not melting to a puddle.

Eren, formidable in his role, just as strong as he looks on the silver screen, pushes her back until they've stumbled into the stone railing behind them — a totally improved move that catches Mikasa off guard, her breath hitching.

Before she can process anything, his lips are latched onto hers, hungrily, his character so desperate to prove his affections to this El girl. He tastes just as good as he has in Mikasa's most shameful dreams, the ones where she gets to do exactly what she's doing now, standing tall as Eren's co-star, the recipient of all his perfectly-acted kisses across an excessive number of takes.

Happy to indulge in this fantasy, Mikasa loses herself in the scene, determined to live up to the expectations placed onto her. She clutches onto Eren, brave enough to engage her mouth, providing her own energy to the kiss. Good God. I'm kissing Eren Jaeger. This is all real.

"Not going anywhere," Eren mewls, too convincing in his 'acting', slipping into this character with so little effort. His hands find Mikasa's thighs, squeezing as she's hoisted into his strong arms, legs with no destination but to wrap around his waist. "I need you. I need you."

Mikasa can't contain herself. Her poor heart is close to giving out, and her stomach flips and clenches and every tumultuous sensation between. She forgets this is a movie, on a set, surrounded by strangers watching them kiss.

One more line. "Stay here. Stay with me, please."

"I will, you goddamn, gorgeous idiot. I'm here."

They kiss longer — so much longer — until the immersion is decimated by the director calling cut, leaving Mikasa in the unfortunate reality where Eren swiftly drops her down to her feet. Through the megaphone, the director praises them — before asserting that they would return for a second, precautionary take.

"Hey," Eren starts, his regular, out-of-character tone somehow so different from his voice during shooting. He's more relaxed. Mikasa's used to this voice from all the interviews she's seen.

"Hi." She keeps her eyes averted, too flustered to even dare looking at him after that. He's famous. She's a nobody, wannabe actress that's stuck working a part-time throwaway job. Still, her awkward smile seems to endear her to him.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry for surprising you like that. Felt like it might help the scene." He sounds pleased with himself for concocting the idea. "I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?"

As if he couldn't get anymore perfect. He's a massive sweetheart, too, not some prima donna.

"No— not at all. It was— it was clever."

"You think so? I worried it might be too much."

She's unsure how to reassure him of the move's success without exposing her gigantic crush.

"I think the women watching will be happy."

Eren laughs and it's sublimely charming. "Well, then I'm happy with it. You're all hard to please."

Behind her back, Mikasa fidgets with her fingers, cracking her knuckles like crazy — anything to relieve the what-is-happening-right-now energy coursing through her bloodstream and incapable of exiting any of her brain's fixated thinking.

"Ah, well— I doubt you could disappoint them."

Instantly, she wants to slam her palm so hard into her forehead that it sends her flying. He doesn't need another weirdo fangirl. I've seen the comments on his Instagram. There's enough of those already. If he's annoyed, Eren conceals that frustration with ease, accepting the vote of confidence with a gracious simper.

"Thanks." He exhales deeply, finding his place beside her against the railing. "Are you an actress? How'd you get wrapped up in all this?"

Calling herself an actress in Eren's presence seems rather reductive of his talent. Mikasa shrugs, biting the inside of her cheeks. "Sorta? Not really. I'm— I'm trying to be, at least."

Eren smiles. "Have I seen anything you've done?"

He's much easier to talk to than someone like Marilyn Lawrence. He's more— more human.

"If you watched Avalon Harbor, you might've caught me in the background for a second. I think it was at 36:20, if you feel like double checking."

Pathetic as it sounds, her jokes makes Eren snort, and Mikasa considers that a win. "You know what, I'll have to give it a rewatch sometime."

A different production assistant brings them bottles of water while they wait to reconvene. There's a painful silence between them — a silence that Mikasa wishes to fill with a million questions about his acting, his roles, his journey from child clothes model to big screen cash cow.

Somehow, though, he's equally interested in her.

"So, Ms. Avalon Harbor, you didn't really answer my question. Where'd they find you?"

Mikasa sighs. Now he'll really know I'm a loser.

"The coffee shop down the street. I work there."

He laughs again. "I— I didn't expect that one."

Just as she's about to attempt another joke, anything to hear his pretty laugh again, the director cuts their conversation short, summoning the cast and crew back into position.

"It was nice to chat with you— Wait, what's your name? Just realized I have no idea."

She swallows, lump building in her throat. You're about to be on a first name basis. "Mikasa."

"Eren," he replies, a formality more than anything. "Maybe we'll get to work together again one day."

Don't get your hopes up, she tells herself. "I'm happy to just be in the audience, really."

He smiles as he backpedals back to his starting position, and that smile lingers on Mikasa's brain all the way until the director calls action.

Returning to her barista job after the previous day's events is harder than she anticipates. Getting a taste of a real actresses' life didn't quench that dream — it only thickened her thirst to be on more movie sets, to experience the thrill of producing something from nothing, to turn a script into a visual manifestation for audiences.

Kissing Eren Jaeger played a big part, obviously.

It's hard to keep her mind off their scenes while cleaning the counter during a lull in customers. Her eyes fixate onto the speckles hidden into the quartz countertop, utterly lost in a daydream, replaying the kiss in her head just like she's rewatched some of Eren's movies on repeat.

A gentle voice cuts through her folly.

"What do you recommend? I can't decide."

Startled, Mikasa gets ready to issue so many apologies for being so ditzy, so inattentive. The last thing she needs is a customer complaint.

When she catches the man's eyes, she's even more startled to see Eren standing there.

"Oh! It's you, I— I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

"No need to apologize. Did I scare you?"

Behind Eren, some customers look up from their coffees to gawk at him — the penalty that comes with achieving some stardom (and the unfortunate consequences of being blessed with unnaturally beautiful cheekbones).

Mikasa laughs, flustered. Her cheeks give away just how unprepared she is for this encounter.

"A little, yeah. Thought I was gonna get an earful."

"Nope. Just wanted to stop by and see you."

See me? It's too good to be true.

"Uh, you did?" Mikasa chides herself. This flirting isn't very good, considering that their tongues were practically wrapped together just yesterday.

Eren leans across the counter, gushing his voice to avoid any pesky eavesdropping.

"Sure did. You're a fun co-star. That's rare these days. Plus, you're a pretty good kisser, too."

Instantly, Mikasa's hand covers her face, the redness flushed across her features too much to bear — Eren Jaeger likes my kissing. Me.

Undisturbed by her inability to accept his compliments with any decorum, Eren continues, glancing quickly at the clock on the wall.

"Do you have a break coming up? I'm done for the day. Thought we could go for a walk. If you want."

It's starting to dawn on her how quickly her life has been rocketed off its predicted trajectory because of a resemblance to another actress.

Is he actually asking me out? She hasn't felt this giddy in— well, since his last movie came out.

"I'm off in ten minutes, actually. I'd— I'd love to."

"Great. Then it's settled. I'll take you on a tour."

A lackluster shift becomes the second-best she's ever worked, just trailing behind yesterday's. She smiles so brightly, hard enough to hurt her cheeks, straining the muscles that she usually saves for pretending to tolerate customers.

"Do you still want that recommendation? I can make something for you while you wait."

He grins, amused. "Oh no, I don't like coffee. Just needed something cute to get your attention."

Unwilling to let her get the last laugh, Eren sticks a bill into the tip jar and slinks off to one of the tables, smiling at her from hidden his hand.

Mikasa blushes.

He might be a good actor, but he's just as terrible at hiding a crush as I am.

— (Hope you enjoyed reading! It would be so fun to imagine how they'll spend their walk and how their little courtship would develop into a relationship 🩷 eremika wholesome moment was very fun to write after so much angst!)

[levbolton]

I told my friend about how much Goncharov 1973 has affected me, becoming my favourite movie, and she tried to search it up online. Then, all confused came back to me, asking why isn’t she finding it anywhere, and I think we need to adress this matter.

Goncharov is, despite all criticism, a queer piece of media. Not only that, but it has Russian queer characters, set in a yet Sovietic time-frame.

We all know the tensions between the East and the West during that time, screw it, the tensions are still alive even now. All the “homo propaganda” that Russia tries to silence and ridicule and blame on the West for all its gay people. And sadly, Goncharov 1973, is maybe one if its biggest victim.

Until just a few days, if you searched online Goncharov 1973 dir. Martin Scorsese you would have found nothing. The entire movie was removed from history, all scenes burned and all posters ripped due to the Soviet Union’s pressure for it to be deleted.

[ID a screenshot of a french market application where a rare version of Goncharov is being sold at an overpriced price (150€ when the original price was 15€).

Translation: “Collector version of Martin Scorsese’s 1973 mafia movie.

No more in market, thus the price (not debatable, i won’t answer foolish proposals)

Can be passed in hand in Lile (France) or sent with care” End ID]

Source

Thus the only sources were the limited physical copies created during the short time it was available for sale.

This proves the recent analysis (here too), that men have a hard time escaping the violent environment they were set in, that that’s how it must be. All the queer tendencies having to be silenced because it’s an anomaly (we’ve all seen the goncharov x andrey scenes, idc how you can say they’re just partners in crime, there’s definitely more) or how women must, despite their own preferences, stand next to a man. How their worth is based solely on their support to another man, unable to chose their own life path (the katya and sofia scenes touched me more than almost any GLs i might have read fr).

The movie did mock these stereotypes, that’s why it rubbed the Soviet Union the wrong way and it stirred such a controversy.

But in the end, the ones who suffer the most are the queer people from there. Just because they don’t have a voice anymore it doesn’t mean there never existed, or still exist, queer people in Russia. Just open a history book my friend, there are endless examples: Tchaikovsky was a gay man who is thought to have been assassinated because of his orientation. [ID a famous picture of Piotr Tchaikovsky next to Iosif Kotek, said to be the composer’s partner End ID]

Konstantin Somov, whose connection with Methodiy is said to be just “friendship” despite his writings in his journal. [ID a painting done by Konstantin Somov depicting Methodiy Lukyanov in PJs, said to be the “one who loved Somov the most” as Somov wrote End ID]

Rudolf Nureyev, bisexual, who was even expulsed from the Soviet Union during that time and who was never able to see his mother until the moment she died… [ID a portrait of the famous Russian ballet dancer, Rudolf Nureyev, who was in a long term relationship with Danish ballet dancer Erik Bruhn, until the latter’s death End ID]

They existed, they exist. They people who suffer the most. Stop silencing queer media and queer people! It is important…

Let’s spam Goncharov everywhere. Goncharov and Andrey and Katya and Sofia. They are all valid. Let’s not leave their story fade in vain.

[rhythm-catsandwine]

Theater

Continuation of Beast.

“We’re watching that?” Justin pointed to the movie poster, which had bloody scratch marks, and a vampire tooth that stood out on a gray background. 

“It’s better than a haunted house.” Kirk tossed a kernel of popcorn in the air and caught it in his mouth. The butter and salt ratio was deemed perfect to him.

“Wot’s it bout?” Justin asked as he tapped the back of Adam’s hand with his knuckle. It was their sign that the other wanted to hold hands once the coast was clear.

Adam looked behind them. The only two people behind them were a hampster and a short Danish drummer. “It’s a romantic horror. A reverse of the classical wolves versus vamps.” He took Justin's hand and intertwined their fingers.

Lars stole a handful of popcorn from Kirks's bucket of salty, buttery heaven. "This is too salty."

" Get your own fucking popcorn." Kirk jerked his snack away, holding it up high above his head.

"Fine." Lars stomped away towards the concession stand.

"Ads," Justin stopped, tightening his grip on Adam's hand and fidgeting with the corner of his shirt with his other hand. "How scary is the film suposta be?

"It's not really horror. Just a romance between a vamp and wolf, and you can't have those two without at least some spooky elements." Adam rubbed the back of Justin's hand with the pad of his thumb. "There's no cheap jump scares. I promise."

Kirk could feel the unique tension that came from the paranoia of jump scares. He had taken Lars to a haunted house, causing him to be jumpy for a month.

After the double dinner date and a movie, Krik and Lars drove home in the inky black. "Is it just me or did the vamp and wolf remind me of Adam and Justin?"

Kirk laughed a bit as he drove along the curves in the road. "It's totally them in another life."

"Hey, can you pull over? I gotta piss again?"

"Why did you get the fucking forty-ounce Coke?"

"You ate way too much candy and threw up halfway through the movie."

"Whatever," Kirk said as he pulled into the parking lot of a gas station.

Justin and Adam decided to take the long way home through the forest. They could hear a lone wolf howl at the moon.

"Hey, Justin?"

"Wot?" He knew that tone of voice. Adam had some kinky idea for when they got to the bedroom.

"Do you still have that wolf tail you used to dress as a wolf for Halloween?"

"Yes."

Hidden Book of August or Ao3

[imkeepinit]

Movie poster by Albert Kallis for the 1955 Danish release of the Universal International motion picture Uhyret fra den sorte lagune.

[sergeantsporks]

Oh got an idea for a writing request.

Luz and Amity are on a date going to a restaurant and they see a banned poster of Eda on the wall.

Amity slid her hand into Luz’s. “So, what exactly does a slice-of-life date entail?”

“Oh, we’re going to do everything. Movies, arcade, one milkshake for two… the whole enchilada.”

“… I think I recognized most of those, but the whole enchilada is new. Dinner back with the others?”

“It’s just an expression, don’t worry about it.” Luz rubbed her thumb across the back of Amity’s hand. “Just a normal human realm date.”

Amity let Luz pull her up the street. If anyone needed a normal human time, it was Luz. Amity had seen the sketches of glyphs in Luz’s journal. She’d seen the dark circles under her girlfriend’s eyes from late nights staring at a computer screen with no answers. A slice-of-life date was exactly what Luz needed to take a break and get her mind off of the boiling isles.

Although Amity still wasn’t exactly sure how the activities Luz had listed would, in any way, slice up life. Which was good, because “maul a hapless human realm creature” wasn’t exactly on her list of cute couple date ideas.

“So, what is an arcade?”

“Oh, it’s great. You play videogames! Some places offer prizes, but mostly, you just want to get a high score on the machines. Like—I’ve got a really high score on this dancing game, I’ve got the top score in most of the songs, but there are some songs I could never do, because you need two players, and, uhhhh… but now I have two players, so we can do it, right?”

“Can’t be harder than defeating a monster showing us our worst fears while dancing with no music, right?”

Xxx

Pewwwwwwwwwww…

Amity winced at the score. Not even close to the top three scores. “I’m… sorry, Luz, we can try again, or—”

Luz laughed. “Whoo! Wow, that was harder than I expected! I guess I haven’t really played in months, and it’s a new song, too! Hey, look, the claw machine! Let’s try that!”

Luz tugged Amity to a glass machine full of plushies. “See anything you like? Ooo, look, there’s a little bear in a witch hat! It can match you!”

Luz pushed a token into the machine, and moved the lever. The claw in the machine dropped down, grazing off the bear. “Awwwww.”

“Can I try?”

Luz pushed another token into the machine and stepped away with a bow. “All yours!”

Amity scooted the claw along. “You know, this kind of reminds me of my dad’s abomatons. When they were in early testing phase, he was still working out the kinks in the claw grip. He proved how it could handle delicate procedures by picking up Ed with it. He was maybe, I don’t know, six, seven? He was right, the claw didn’t crush Ed. But it dropped him because the grip strength was weak. Our nanny was furious.”

Amity dropped the claw, and it successfully snagged the bear, dragging it up into the air. “YES!”

It was almost to the chute, when the arm wobbled, and the bear dropped out, hitting the edge of the chute and falling back inside the machine.

“NO!” Amity banged one fist on the glass. “This machine cheats!” She shook her head. “Should have known better than to trust anything that looks like one of my dad’s machines. Look, it dropped the bear on its head, just like Edric.” Amity laughed, tapering off to a sigh. “Hope he’s okay.”

Luz stiffened. “I’m sure he’s fine. Nothing could get your siblings, they’re too slippery! You know what, most of the games in here are rigged, let’s go get coffee.”

“You mean that stuff that your mom drinks? Is that safe for us? Hunter drank some the other day and he was up all night.”

“Hunter drank it at 9PM, we’ll be fine. Or we could just get some pastries! The Robin’s Roast has some great danishes, let’s go.”

Luz headed towards the door, and Amity shook her head.

Shouldn’t have mentioned the demon realm.

She followed Luz to a square brick building, the sign on the front displaying a red-chested bird sitting in a mug.

Wait… I think I heard Vee talk about this—

Luz stopped dead in the doorway. “Oh,” she said softly.

Amity peered over her shoulder. Eda’s face stared down at her from a “Banned” poster on the wall. “Oh, Luz…”

Luz heaved a sigh, turning around and trudging out. “Let’s… let’s just go. We can—we can do the milkshakes, or—or—”

“Luz—” Amity dashed up, taking Luz’s hand. “Luz. It’s okay to miss them. I miss my family, too.”

Luz rubbed the back of her head. “I know, I know, but it’s—it’s—”

Amity gave Luz’s hand a squeeze. “No more secrets, remember?”

“I just… I promised you this slice of life date, and I really wanted to—to take you out, and I know we’re all… I just want you to be happy Amity. I wanted to make you feel special, and have a good time, and… everywhere I’ve taken you has just upset you, or made you think about home, and…”

“Luz.” Amity brought Luz’s hand up, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m happy when you’re happy, when you’re really happy, not just pretending to be happy. I don’t need a slice of life earth date if you’re just worried the whole time that something will upset me. I miss my siblings, and maybe my dad, sure, but talking about them, remembering them… it made them feel closer, not further away.” Amity swung Luz’s hand back and forth. “You know what we need right now?”

“What?”

“A boiling isles date. Sure, there might not be magic here, but if I’ve learned anything about us, it’s that we make our own magic. Now, let’s see. I heard from Vee about the magic rats hanging around this store, so why don’t we check that out? I bet they’re not too different from the echo mice. Just like old times. Maybe we can even get banned from the café!”

“Yeah,” Luz said slowly, brightening, “Yeah, I always wanted to check back in on them. Vee ran off before I really got to question them!”

Amity gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be right there, I’m going to get us some of those danishes.”

Luz tore around the outside of the building, and Amity marched back into the café. “Hey! Uh, how much for that banned poster?”

The barista stared at her blankly. “What?”

“The banned poster.”

“Why do you want… what?”

“Iiiiiiii’m aaaaaaaannnnnnn art student!” Amity lied, “I’m making a collage!” She spread her hands out. “The banned and unwanted of gravesfield! I’m collecting banned posters, and that is a lovely specimen. So, how much for it?”

The barista stared at her for a couple of seconds, then sighed, disappearing into the back and coming out with a copy of the poster. “Just take it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Take it. Are you going to order, or…?”

“Ooo, okay, uhhhh… two cheese danishes? No, wait, Luz is lactose intolerant, one cheese Danish, and one… something else?”

Amity paid for the food, and went around back. Luz was sitting back on her legs, peering into the garbage. “Hey.”

“Hey. They’re not interested. They keep hiding in the trash hissing about forbidden knowledge.”

Amity crouched down next to her, offering her the non-cheese danish. “Got you a snack.”

She glanced around for any witnesses, then drew a circle, sending a small abomination into the trash. “We’ll get them. In the meantime… here.” She handed Luz the banned poster. “The rest of us put up pictures of our family. It’s only fair you get one.”

Luz clutched the wanted poster tightly, the paper crinkling in her grip. “Thanks,” she sniffed, “Amity, I…”

Amity opened up her arms, and Luz plunked her head on Amity’s shoulder. “I miss them.”

“Yeah. Me too. But we’ll find a way back.”

Amity’s abomination tore back out of the garbage, glancing back over its shoulder. The trash rumbled and shifted.

“CREATURE OF MAGIC,” a voice growled from the cans, “WE WILL FEAST ON YOUR FLESH!”

Luz stood, offering Amity a hand. “Time to go?”

Amity let Luz pull her to her feet. “Time to go!”

Xxx

Luz pinned the banned poster of Eda to the board in the abandoned house, humming. “Hey, Eda,” she said quietly, “I hope you’re okay, and you got out of there in time. I’m doing my best to come back, but… it could take a while. Hang tight until I get there.”

Amity slipped her hand into Luz’s, giving it a squeeze.

“I wish she could hear me,” Luz sighed, “I just want to tell her… there’s so much I want to tell her.”

Amity leaned her head on Luz’s shoulder. “I think she knows.”

Luz nodded, looking up at the poster. “Yeah.”

Stay safe.

I’m coming.

[whatyourusherthinks]

Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare Review

Just a poster for this film chaps! I had no idea such a display would enter the cinema otherwise. But that Guy Richie fellow, he makes quite the romps, doesn't he. I still remember my first introduction to his tomfoolery being the first Sherlock Holmes movie starring Robert Downey Jr. What a cracking time that was! *Brick crashes through my window telling me to stop with the British accent*

What's The Movie About?

The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare tells the tale of the recently declassified Operation Postmaster, where a group of agents set out to disrupt a Nazi supply chain to Uboats in '41.

What I Like.

Well, it's a Guy Richie movie, so the style is off the charts. The characters are incredibly charming and the violence is fun, fast, and flowing. The movie is basically Inglorious Basterds, but instead of Americans it's the British and there's nothing about the power of movies saving the day. And there's really nothing else to it. I could go into detail about the characters and the plot, but it's just a string of charming characters killing some of the worst people in history. If that's not enough for you, I dunno what to tell you. I guess I should add I really liked all the historical character that I noticed. Ian Fleming is in the movie. I didn't know what the Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare was about before going in to the movie, so it was a pleasant surprise when the writer of James Bond turned up. There's also a coda at the end that tells you what happens to all the main characters after the movie and I liked that.

What I Didn't Like.

The style and violence is great, but maybe the Nazis went down a little too easily. I mean, they are Nazis. I love watching those goose-stepping bastards get their shit kicked in, but it feels like the main characters are never in any physical danger ever. Even the movie gets that at one point. They set up a fight between the giant Danish guy with an axe versus an entire Nazi squad with machine guns, and it's played like "Yeah yeah, we know how this is gonna go." They don't even bother to show the fight too. That's lame. My final complaint is that Churchill is a big presence in the movie, and the guy playing Churchill does not look ANYTHING like the real one.

Final Summation.

This movie is jolly good fun! *Brick that says 'Seriously, stop!' flies through my already broken window* If you like watching highly competent people doing what they do best, killing Nazis, they you will love this movie. And as a bonus, you might learn a little bit about history!

[movie--posters]