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agentnico · 3 years

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Top 10 BEST Movies 2021

*UPDATED 17/01/22 with the addition of The Tragedy of Macbeth

Let’s not kid ourselves, the pandemic has had a massive impact on many a thing, including the movie industry. Yeah, I know there’s a lot worse that COVID has caused, but this is a film blog, so naturally I’m going to complain about its impact on the movie biz. From release dates being endlessly postponed and many movies simply going straight to streaming, 2020 was quite lacklustre in terms of decent movie content, however 2021 has seen a smidge of normality returning, even though Omicron now is acting like a diva that wants to take everything down which I think is really selfish of it and not at all festive. Like, Mr Omicron (or Mrs, depending on how gender neutral you are), listen, we’ve only just had Christmas and New Year’s, and today is Russian Orthodox Christmas and soon we also have Chinese New Year and Valentine’s Day around the corner, so like give us a break, okay?? Can you simply pick a different time of the year to annoy us, ideally on none of the 365 days. Cool? We’re good, alright, sorted! Anyway, here are my favourite films of 2021. As always, goes without saying, my list may vary a lot from yours and vice versa, so don’t go all Gangs of New York on me if you disagree with me. Simply give me a quiet stern disappointed look and then go about your day and we’ll act like this never ever happened. Also, there’s a few films of 2021 I haven’t had a chance to see yet, including Power of the Dog and Spencer so naturally they won’t be on this list, however who knows? Maybe all of them are crap anyway and I’m not missing out, but anyway, without much further ado, here’s my Top 10 Best Movies of 2021...

HONOURABLE MENTIONS: Judas & the Black Messiah, Godzilla VS Kong, Zack Snyder’s Justice League, Belfast and The Last Duel

SPECIAL HONOURABLE MENTION: NO TIME TO DIE - The final swan song of Daniel Craig as James Bond was a long time coming. As in really a long time coming, thanks to COVID this thing got delayed endlessly. But we finally saw it and this was one hell of a shaken martini! Definitely not stirred. And thankfully Craig didn’t slit his wrists as he once promised, so all is good in the hood.

Original review: https://agentnico.tumblr.com/post/663954189051904000/no-time-to-die-2021-review

10) CODA - This movie puts Vin Diesel’s obsession with family to shame. For CODA is exactly that - a sweet coming of age tale about family, but against the typical tropes of the genre the central family are all deaf, which results in a unique spin on the familiar formula. Basically just like go and watch it, okay??

Original review: https://agentnico.tumblr.com/post/659580386869968897/coda-2021-review

9) HOUSE OF GUCCI - Cheesy one liners, epic performances, questionable Italian accents and a super interesting narrative. Featuring one hella peculiar sex scene between Lady Gaga and Adam Driver. I mean, phew! That’s all I’m gonna say! Look, that’s not the reason this movie was really good, I was simply pointing out...whatever I was pointing out.

Original review: https://agentnico.tumblr.com/post/670557527220633600/house-of-gucci-2021-review

8) THE MITCHELLS VS THE MACHINES - This animated film warns of the dangers of tech consumption yet it appears on a streaming service that’s entire business model is based upon screen addiction with their endless binge worthy content. As they say the irony is most definitely present! But with that irony also comes one great family adventure from the folks that brought you The Lego Movie and Into the Spider-Verse!

Original review: https://agentnico.tumblr.com/post/650251702621159424/the-mitchells-vs-the-machines-2021-review

7) SPIDER-MAN: NO WAY HOME - So the reason this film is so much fun is because *SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER*. And that’s why it’s on the list!

Original review: https://agentnico.tumblr.com/post/671904849427841024/spider-man-no-way-home-2021-review

6) THE SUICIDE SQUAD - A superhero movie that simply doesn’t give a f***! The type of wham-bam-thank-you-mam batshit entertainment which exists for the pure reasons of fun. It doesn’t set out to be the best superhero film ever, nor does it need to be.

Original review: https://agentnico.tumblr.com/post/658401873396629504/the-suicide-squad-2021-review

5) FREE GUY - An absolute cuddly crowd-pleaser full of casual mayhem, crazy ideas and a hyper-active Ryan Reynolds, that will get Mariah Carey’s ‘Fantasy’ stuck in your head for days on end.

Original review: https://agentnico.tumblr.com/post/659673760933330944/free-guy-2021-review

4) LICORICE PIZZA - Equal parts strange, sentimental and screwball, yet also absolutely 100% hilarious, this Paul Thomas Anderson directed feature is downright delightful with a capital D! Although I still have no idea why all the characters in this movie are constantly running. Like just have a break, have a Kit-Kat already!

Original review: https://agentnico.tumblr.com/post/672371437179486208/licorice-pizza-2021-review

3) BARB & STAR GO TO VISTA DEL MAR - I have no idea how, but somehow the fast chatting culottes-wearing couple Barb and Star made it to the 3rd highest spot on my Top 10 of the year. I’m as baffled and ashamed as you are. But also screw you, I can listen to Jamie Dornan singing ballads to seagulls on tires any day of the week!

Original review: https://agentnico.tumblr.com/post/643655612925870080/barb-and-star-go-to-vista-del-mar-2021-review

2) THE ELECTRICAL LIFE OF LOUIS WAIN - Most of the movies this year I watched together with my lovely fiancée (a not so casual shout-out to the woman I love and will marry one day!!), and none of them affected us as emotionally as a film about eccentric cat paintings. It’s a movie that plays out like the first ten minutes of Up (yep, THOSE ten minutes), and at parts its funny, at parts sad, and at times strangely surrealist, The Electrical Life of Louis Wain dare I say ELECTRIFIED us!!

Original review: https://agentnico.tumblr.com/post/670370064751558656/the-electrical-life-of-louis-wain-2021-review

1) THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH - The Bard. Black and white. 1/2 the Coen brothers. German expressionism. Denzel Washington. Frances McDormand. Feeling like its literally filmed on stage, this minimalist take on Shakespeare’s famous play is arguably the based film adaptation of Macbeth that I’ve ever seen. My eyes were literally glued to the screen from beginning to end, from the gorgeous yet simple set pieces to the one of a kind physical act of Kathryn Hunter, who plays all three witches in a literal shapeshifting performance. Shakespeare is obviously not for everyone, but for me it’s my top film of 2021!

Original review: https://agentnico.tumblr.com/post/673372444479913984/the-tragedy-of-macbeth-2021-review

With that, 2021 has come to an end, and here’s to a happy new year that is 2022! Fingers crossed we’ll get many more great films, but also on a more serious note, I wish everyone the best of health and success, and let us hope that this new year will give us more signs of normality coming back. And as normality comes kicking in, take a chance and pop over to the local cinema with your loved ones, your friends or by yourself, as when you’re in need of some escapism from the craziness of the world out there, the magic of cinema is one of the most genuinely amazing ways to relieve your mind. That is unless you’re stuck watching a crappy flick like The Emoji Movie, however if you’re watching that then let’s face it, that is entirely your fault. In any regard though, stay safe everyone, and thank you for reading. Here’s to talking more about film in 2022!

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 4 years

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Speaking her language

For the charming @empress-writes 💙💛🧡💖

Hope you’ll like the story!

The South of France is a safer place for the Basterds, as they took a break after their last mission.

They were currently hidden in a remote cottage near the small village of Gassin. Its inhabitants were kind and helpful, which was a blessing for Aldo Raine and his men.

"No news from the superiors, Lieutenant?"

"Na yet, Donny. But ya can be sure that we're gonna heard about them, one way or another!"

"So, let's enjoy our free time!" happily exclaimed Hirschberg as he ate a piece of cake.

"Can you sometimes stop eating, you glutton?" admonished Andy.

"But Mrs. Dupin's pies are so delicious!"

As the others were gently chatting, Wicki was gazing at (Y/N) (L/N), the only woman in the group. He could not help but smile while looking at her as she read a book.

If you ask him, he would probably answer that everything she did was perfection. To sum up, he fell heels over head in love with the woman.

Of course, the other Basterds were aware of it and never missed an opportunity to tease him about his crush. Even Hugo loved taunting him!

Wilhelm's daydreaming was interrupted by Utivitch, who shyly asked:

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Smithson?" answered the woman with a gentle smile.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, I was reading Les lettres de mon moulin by Alphonse Daudet. It is a French collection of short stories about Provence!"

"Okay... Wait, you understand French?"

She laughed.

"Uti, can you remind us what is my job here?"

"She is the translator, you dummy!" growled Hugo.

"Don't be so harsh, Stiglitz!" scolded Hicox.

"Indeed, I am the translator of the group."

"Of course!"

"By the way, how many languages do you speak?" inquired Omar.

A sly grin appeared on her face.

"What if we played a little game?"

"YES! A GAME!" happily screamed Andy, Michael, and Simon.

"Ouch! My ears!" grumbled Wicki.

"Okay, let's play! What are the rules, doll?" asked Donny.

"It's simple: I'll talk in a language to each of you in turn, and you have to guess how many languages I can speak!"

"Sounds good to me! Start whenever ya want, pretty!"

Suddenly, all the Basterds were quiet and waited for (Y/N).

While she was mentally choosing the first player, the other Basterds noticed the enamored gaze of Wicki towards the blonde woman. Time to play some trick on the suitor...

"I'm going to start with... Mr. Hicox!"

"I'm always ready, my dear!"

"Eres muy guapo. ¡Un verdadero caballero!" (You're very handsome. A real gentleman!)"

"Mmmmh... I would say that you speak Spanish!"

"Exactly!"

"And what did you say?"

"I told you that you were handsome, and you look like a real gentleman!"

The Basterds laughed and whistled.

"Well, milady, you're absolutely astonishing! Hearing you speaking Spanish is like listening to a nightingale!" answered the British spy with a seductive wink.

The young woman chuckled before asking:

"You sweet-talker! Alright! Who's next?"

"Why won't you ask Omar?" snickered Michael.

"Go to hell!" grunted the latter.

"Don't worry, Omar: it's only for fun. Are you ready?"

A charming smile came across Omar's face:

"Please, go ahead!"

"Okay... Nǐ hěn yǒnggǎn, wǒ hěn gāoxìng chéngwéi nǐ de péngyǒu!" (You're brave, and I'm happy to be your friend!)

Omar was puzzled.

"It does not sound like a European language..."

"You're right, it's not from Europe..."

"Mh, that's tricky... I don't know!"

"Give it a try!" she gently encouraged him.

The soldier scratched the back of his head:

"Er... Is it Japanese?"

"Sorry, but no. It was Chinese!"

"CHINESE? REALLY?" yelled Omar under the laughs of his comrades.

"Yes, indeed. I learned it when I was younger, thanks to my nanny who came from Shangai! And if you want a translation, it means that you're brave and I am happy to be your friend!"

"Alright... Well, thank you! It was beautiful! Especially when it comes from you!"

"You charmer!"

Wicki raised an eyebrow: he started to guess what his friends were doing, and he was not pleased...

"Fine, let's go back to the game, would you? The next one will be... Donny!"

"At your orders, baby doll!"

"Then, I start... Sei forte e affascinante! E amo il tuo sorriso!" (You're strong and charming! And I love your smile!)

"Ah, so easy! Italian!"

"Bravo! You're right!"

"And what did you mean?"

"I said Donny is strong and charming... and I love his smile!"

Donny put his large hands on his chest, faking to be enthralled.

"And she speaks Italian! Gosh, this woman is perfect!"

He blew her a kiss.

"Please, receive this proof of love from a Bostonian guy!"

Laughing at his antics, (Y/N) mimicked catching the kiss and holding it against her heart.

"Thank you, Donny!"

As for Wilhelm, he gets annoyed. He did not know if they were trying to woo her for real or if they were just pissing him off. In both cases, he hated them at the moment.

"Okay. For the next turn, I'll ask for... Lieutenant Raine!"

"Here I am, pretty woman!"

"Fine, let's go... 'ant qayid rayie qawiun washajae wajadhab jadana!" (You are an astounding leader. Sturdy, brave, and so attractive!)

"Uh, that's a tricky one! Sounds like the Cree language..."

"Unfortunately, Lieutenant, I don't speak Native American languages."

"Okay... So, is it Danish?"

"No."

"Hm... Perhaps Portuguese?"

"Wrong answer. It was Arabic!"

"WOAH!" exclaimed all the Basterds, impressed.

"God, you awe me! And what did you mean?"

"I was saying that you are an astounding leader and that you are sturdy, brave, and attractive!"

Aldo smirked and gave her his best seductive face.

"Girl, give me back my heart, would ya? You stole it since the first day!"

(Y/N) heartily laughed.

"Please, Lieutenant: you're a charmer!"

"Only for you, sweetheart!"

"Verräter!" (Betrayer!) gritted Wicki.

"Fine, let's go! I choose... Andy!"

"At your service, milady!"

"Okay, I start... Du är söt när du ler." (You're cute when you smile)

"Uh... Does this language exist?"

"Of course!"

"Okay, Kagan: use your brains... Ah, I know: Danish!"

"Almost..."

"Swedish?"

"Good answer!"

"Well done, Kagan!" laughed Archie.

"Thanks, sir... But I'm sure that if (Y/N) goes to Sweden, they would hate her!"

"Why?"

"Look at her smile: it's like the sun, the snow would melt in a blink!"

"Oh My God, Kagan! That was the corniest thing I've ever heard!" roared Michael as he clutched his sides.

"Well, I find it cute. Thank you, Andy!"

"You're welcome... By the way, what did you mean?"

"Oh, I said that you're cute when you smile!"

Kagan fiercely blushed.

"Thank you, Miss..."

"Pleasure is mine... Hey, Michael, do you want to try?"

"I never say no to a challenge, especially from a beautiful lady!"

"Let's see... Vy geniy i prekrasnyy chelovek." (You are a genius and a lovely man).

"Woah, Woah, Woah! What the hell is that language?"

"I assure you, this is a real language!"

"Uh... German?"

"NO!" answered Wicki and Stiglitz, offended.

"Calm down, guys! Okay, so if it's not German... It's Russian!"

"Bravo!" (Y/N) clapped happily.

"Wait a minute... If I did not miss the track, we know that you speak 6 languages! And I don't know why, but I think you know more!" said Utivitch.

"That's right! Okay, now, who wants to try?"

"I volunteer!" exclaimed Smithson.

"With pleasure! Let's see which language I use with you..." she wondered.

She got an idea and started to speak in a foreign language:

"Anata wa watashi ga imamade deatta naka de mottomo omoshirokute shinsetsuna hitodesu!" (You're the funniest and kindest man I ever met!)

"Ah, I got it! If it's not Chinese... It's Japanese!"

"Splendid!"

"Well done, chap!" laughed Simon as he applauded.

"Thanks, pal. And may I know the meaning of your sentence?"

"Of course! I said that you are the funniest and kindest man I ever met!"

"And they dare to say perfection does not exist! Obviously, they did not meet our lovely (Y/N)!" shouted Utivitch.

"Please, don't exaggerate!" blushed the young woman.

Wicki clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles went white. He swore to God that they would pay for their antics.

"Okay, the next player would be... Simon!"

"Yes, ma'am! Always yours!"

"You trickster! Fine, try to guess this one... אני מאוד מעריך את החברה שלך." (I really appreciate your company)

"No... You speak Hebrew? The language of our people?"

"Indeed."

"But it sounds beautiful when it comes from you! Okay, you know what? After the war, I'll marry you!"

"Oh, Simon! Don't be so crazy!" she laughed.

"I'm already crazy in love with you!"

"And you say I am corny, Michael..." sneered Andy.

"Forget what I said!"

After she stopped laughing, (Y/N) declared:

"So, I think we had three players last. Well, let's the game begin with Hirschberg."

"Hooray! Here I am!"

"Alright! So, try to find this one... Jesteś uroczym żarłokiem." (You're an adorable glutton)

"Well, that's unusual! Er... I don't remember hearing this language before!"

"Give me suggestions!"

"It is a Slavic language?"

"Not at all."

Gerold sighed.

"Damn it, girl! It's a freakin' riddle!"

"Watch your language in front of a lady!" scolded Hicox.

"Don't worry, Archie: I've heard worse before!" said (Y/N) with a smug grin.

"Mh, I don't know... Is it Turkish?"

"Not at all, but I am currently studying this language!"

"Er... Nope, I don't know!"

"It's Polish!"

"My my, she is impressive!" chuckled Aldo as he took a bite of his bread.

"And what did you say?"

"I said that you are an adorable glutton!"

Hearing that, the other Basterds roared with laughter.

"AH AH AH AH! Well done, (Y/N)!" shrieked Utivitch.

"Hey, that's not fair!" yelped Hirschberg.

Upset that she would offend her friend, the woman apologized.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Gerold. I did not mean to..."

"It's alright, (Y/N). Likewise, I'll always forgive you!"

"Oh, why?"

"Because you are beautiful!" answered the soldier with a huge smile.

Relieved, she happily laughed while Wicki contained himself to punch someone's face.

"Okay, now, let's go on with Hugo!"

"I'm listening..."

"I'm sure you'll recognize this language... Du erinnerst mich an einen Wolf: einsam, mysteriös und faszinierend." (You remind me of a wolf: solitary, mysterious, and fascinating.)

"German, without hesitation!" smirked Stiglitz.

"Indeed!"

"And what did she say?" asked Donny.

Hugo stood up and walked towards her.

"She compared me to wolf. She said that I am solitary, mysterious, and fascinating..."

"(Y/N) got the point!" smiled Michael.

Stiglitz arrived near the woman and kneeled with deference.

"You won... I surrender to your beautiful voice! I could not resist you speaking my mother tongue with such delicacy!"

"Nice touch, Stiglitz!" exclaimed Archie.

"Oh, Hugo! You must be exaggerating: I'm pretty sure my accent was a disaster!"

"The only thing pretty is you, (Y/N)" grinned Hugo as he gently kissed the woman's hand... while he looked out of the corner of his eyes at Wilhelm with a roguish glance.

"Trottel!" (You jerk)!" gritted the latter through his teeth.

At the same moment, (Y/N) was amused by her friends' antics: they always treated her like a queen and were very respectful towards her. But this time, she felt that there was something else, like if they were playing a prank on someone...

"You guys are all amazing! But let's finish this game with the last player: Wilhelm!"

Hearing his name, Wicki snapped out of his anger and said:

"Yes, I'm ready!"

"Okay so, let's see if you will be able to find this one... Mon cher Wilhelm, tu es un homme courageux, loyal, et séduisant." (My dear Wilhelm, you are a courageous, loyal, and attractive man.)

The Austrian Jewish man smirked:

"Without any doubt, I would say... French!"

"Precisely! You had a good ear!"

"And what did you say to Wilhelm? I'm curious..." asked Hirschberg with a playful tone.

(Y/N) slightly flushed before answering:

"I told him that he was a brave, loyal, and attractive man!"

"How cute!" laughed Aldo.

As for Wilhelm, he was struck: definitely, he was in love! With a smug smile, he said:

"Merci beaucoup pour le compliment, jolie mademoiselle!" (Thank you very much for the compliment, lovely miss!)

(Y/N) was impressed by his hidden talent.

"Oh, what a surprise! I did not know you speak French!"

"I know a few... but I'm sure I would not reach your level!"

"Don't underestimate yourself!"

"Heck, she could give some “private” lessons, if you want!" smirked Andy while wiggling his eyebrows.

"Keep your dirty thoughts for you!" snarled Wicki.

"Okay guys, calm down! Now that everyone answered (Y/N), did anyone count how many languages she can speak?" asked Archie.

"I did sir! And she speaks in 11 languages!" replied Utivitch.

"11 LANGUAGES?" shouted the others.

"Indeed, you counted well, Smithson. But I also speak Portuguese, Dutch, and Slavic languages. And I'm currently learning Turkish, Hindi, Danish, Korean, and Finnish!"

"Girl, are ya planning to learn all the goddamn languages around the world?" asked Aldo, flabbergasted.

"Maybe... Seriously, I've always been interested in languages since I was a little girl and I never stopped my passion! Luckily for me, I was gifted with a good memory..."

"We noticed it." shrugged Hugo.

"Man, we're lucky to have her with us!" stated Hirschberg.

"Well spotted, private!"

They enjoyed the afternoon, when (Y/N) had to go to the village for some groceries.

Once she left, Wicki turned his angered glare towards his comrades.

"May I know WHAT THE FUCK were you all doing earlier? Wooing her as if you did not know what I felt?"

"Don't be mad, Wicki: we just wanted to make a joke!" said Utivitch who tried to calm his friend.

"I did not find it very funny!" growled the Austrian.

"Don't be so ill-humored! We'll never steal her from you. Of course, we all love her, but she is like a sister or a best friend to many of us!" retorted Kagan.

"Damn right, Kagan. But Wil, ya better tell (Y/N) what ya feel for her! Stop tripping and man up!" ordered Aldo.

"And how I'm supposed to do that?"

"Use your brains, Wicki, and take a guess: why don't you use something she likes to declare your love?" muttered Hugo as he smoked his cigarette.

"Something she likes..." mumbled Wilhelm as he lost himself in his thoughts.

Suddenly, an idea popped up in his mind, and he slightly grinned: maybe he can try something interesting.

He got up and searched in his bag a book his mother gave him before his departure. Wilhelm felt that the answer to his issue was between the pages of this poetry collection...

Later in the evening...

The cool summer night was calm and appeasing for the Basterds as they were finishing the meals brought by their French accomplices.

At the same time, (Y/N) went for a small walk through the forest. She enjoyed the peaceful surrounding of the woods and sat on a tree stump to gaze at the shining stars who enlightened the dark blue sky.

The young woman slightly shivered as she felt the gentle breeze caress her bare arms.

"Can I join you?" asked a familiar masculine voice.

Startled, she turned and was relieved to see Wilhelm.

"Oh, it's you! You scare me!"

"I'm sorry!"

"It's fine... You can sit with me!"

Thanking her, the soldier sat close to the young woman.

He felt a knot in his stomach as he was nervous: God, this girl would be the death of him!

He straightened up himself and declared:

"It's a nice night!"

"Indeed: I've always appreciated summer nights. I don't why, but it always soothes me... And it reminds me of this beautiful painting entitled Starry Night."

"Made by Van Gogh in 1888, if I'm right?"

"Exactly. It was a representation of a starry sky in Provence... where we are!"

"Interesting, I did not know this part of the story..." smiled Wicki.

He leaned closer and said:

"You know, this landscape reminds me of a poem..."

"Really?"

"Would you like to listen?"

"I would enjoy it!" (Y/N) smiled.

Wilhelm cleared his throat and declaimed:

Es liegt der heiße Sommer (There lies the heat of summer)

Auf deinen Wängelein; (On your cheek’s lovely art:)

Es liegt der Winter, der kalte, (There lies the cold of winter)

In deinem Herzchen klein. (Within your little heart.)

Das wird sich bei dir ändern, (That will change, beloved,)

Du Vielgeliebte mein! (The end not as the start!)

Der Winter wird auf den Wangen, (Winter on your cheek then,)

Der Sommer im Herzen sein. (Summer in your heart.)

When he finished reciting the poem, he saw a beautiful smile across (Y/N)'s face.

"Wilhelm, it was amazing!"

"Danke. Maybe you know the author..."

"I think it's Heinrich Heine!"

"Exactly! It’s the poem titled There lies the heat of summer."

"He wrote such beautiful masterpieces about love."

She shrugged with a sly smile.

"I'm a helpless romantic!"

"Don't apologize: it's one of your qualities!"

He added with a slight blush on his face.

"Besides, this poem has a special meaning for me..."

"Honestly? Why?"

"Yes. Well, when I was younger, I told my mother that I would say this poem to the girl I want to spend my life with..."

"Oh, that's so charming..."

(Y/N) interrupted herself when she realized what happened.

"Wait a minute... Did you mean that..."

Wicki nodded.

"You've guessed right: I love you, (Y/N). Since the first day in our team, I knew you were meant to me. But I was a coward for a long time and I did not know how to tell you the truth... until tonight!"

There was a silence until the young woman let out a relieved sigh:

"Thank God, what a relief!"

"What do you mean?"

She fidgeted with her fingers, slightly embarrassed.

"You know, Wilhelm... You were not the only one who was shy about their feelings!"

"You mean... that it's reciprocated?"

She agreed with a slight nod and a timid smile.

Assuaged by this revelation, Wicki leaned closer to her face, letting a few inches between their lips.

"Ich liebe dich, (Y/N)..."

"I love you too, Wilhelm..."

And they gently kissed, their lips sealed in a tender moment...

Meantime, the other Basterds were spying on them, delighted smiles on their faces.

"Finally! He said it!" smirked Aldo.

"Look how cute they are!" grinned Utivitch.

"Indeed, they are. But remember guys: if you want to stay alive, don't cha flirt with her!" stated Donny.

"We took note, Don'. Should we celebrate this new couple?" asked Hirschberg.

"We'll do it when they'll come back to the camp. For now, let's them enjoy this moment alone!" tenderly smiled Andy.

"Gentlemen, we shall come back before they notice our presence. Moreover, we have a celebration to prepare!" simpered Hicox.

"The British's damn right! Let's go, boys!" discreetly cheered Michael.

"I'm so excited! It's like another Valentine's Day!" laughed Simon.

As they went back, Hugo looked back at the lovers with a small grin on his face.

"Well played, Wicki. You managed to speak her language, after all..."

Well, he was right: Wilhelm and (Y/N) found the perfect language between each other: the language of love...

Thank you for the reading!

I hope you’ll like it and I’m looking for your requests!

Take care and see you soon! 😘🥰😍🤩😷

#requests #inglourious basterds #wilhelm wicki #gedeon burkhard #rosamund pike

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

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Sunday 26 January 1840

8 40/..

2 10/..

fine morning R-8° out of doors and R11 ¾° at my bedhead and on the console now at 9 55/.. and breakfast – at church at 10 55/.. and waited ¼ hour Mr. Camidge preached I suppose about ½ hour from Acts xiii. 38 to 41. – from church to Mrs. Fischers’ – found Mr. F- and 2 daughters at luncheon, Madame se faisait la toilette – there at 1 5/.. and sat about ½ hour – mentioned having changed my line of route, and now meaning to go direct to Odessa – home at 1 20/.. had Mrs. Howard and then A- dressed and I had just changed my stockings when princess Tcherkaski called – très aimable personne – delicate health, and having suffered much affliction her daughter (aet. 19) died of fièvre chaude – returned here for the winter instead of in summer after having been acclimatée in Germany or France, Suisse, etc. and probably the severity of the Russian climate was too much for the poor girl – belle et bonne tout ce que pouvait désirer sa mère – princess T- has also 2 brothers but condemned à la mort civile – banished to Siberia without hope of return – implanted in the same affair at the accession of the present emperor as countess A.P-‘s brother princess R- tall and elegant and extremely interesting – fine dark eyes – pale – handsome – her father prince ........... her mother an English Parkhurst – hopes to see us to dinner – Wednesday mentioned – but I know not that the thing was actually fixed – had had Mrs. Howard for perhaps ½ hour – had inquired about Odessa of her landlord – we might arrive there in going soon from here and diligently before the debâche of the rivers – but should be detained there on this account probably till April – must go on wheels from Nicolaief – could not get father than there sur [pattins] – must take wheels with us – nothing to be had at N- beyond a common Kibitka – for board and lodging of Gross she asked 150/. per month and 25/. per month for the carriage stand – I said she must to to do both for 150/. to go in one day and back from Vosskrecensk [Voskresensk], a relay of horses must be sent the night before = 6 horses at 10/. = 60/. – dressed – at the old countess Panins’ to dinner at 4 or perhaps a minute or 2 after not more – dinner upstairs in the [long] Galerie in about ¼ hour – ourselves and countess A.P. and Sophie and Miss Scorgall, and old countess P-‘s lady and 2 gentlemen – I should think dinner was over at 5 ½ - then looked at the prints and atlas belonging to Dubois’s work (3vols. 8vo. that I have) on the Caucasus – but took my leave on hearing 6 struck knowing that the old countess then took her nap – she retired but on asking me to stay and look at the prints with countess A.P. we staid with her till 6 ¾ talking over our journey – the to take or not to take Gross, etc. etc. Resolved that he would be useless, and that, all things considered, it would be best to leave him behind -

SH:7/ML/E/23/0189

what a blessing – countess A.P. repeated her advice to go direct to Tiflis, more especially as we should be road-bound at Odessa till April when the steamers begin to ply between there and the Crimea – the old countess very civil –asked us to go and visit us in the country at her large beautiful palace of a place – a large good handorgan played at the beginning of dinner and before the end – we began by a sort of mock turtle soap with a great quantity of the mock-turtle meat in each ones’ plate – then came flans (sort of crumpet) with thin long pieces of fish stuck in (fried in) then and [seen] on the top, looking like shreds of almond (1in. or more long) – and with these caviar was handed round and then butter melted as at the Ocouloffs’ – then (slices with pretty little rizolles of potato) roast veal – then another plat of veal like small pear-shaped cutlets round or something out of a round pudding – like mould, that nobody cut into – then asparagus, large and long and all perfectly white – then poulet – concombres sales’, then Italian cream, then pears and pllaes and biscuits, then apricot marmalade – (all meats cut up and handed everywhere) – then coffee at the tea-table near the sofa at the top of the gallery – a servant stood behind each ones’ chair – but only 2? I think not more, at any rate, then 3, in livery – after coffee came the incense or perfume-burner, as usual, to take away the smell of one viands – I thought of going direct chez les Ourousoffs’ – but A- had been less amused than I – did not like to run the risk of staying so long (I no tliking to be limited to the minute) and .:. we came home (home at 6 55/..) and I stood talking till 7 10/.. and then set off by myself – found the old people by themselves – princess R- had been making visits in the morning (countess A.P. tome she been chez elle), and was gone to make 2 more this evening just gone before I arrived but would soon be back – was very much tired having been to church this morning, 1st time – she came back about 8 – agreeable evening – came away at 9 5/.. – home at 9 20/.. having told her we would go on Thursday evening probably to take leave – I said I should probably be at home for a little while in the autumn or before the end of the year and the letter to Dr. H.S.B- being difficult to write had I not better wait to explain vivâ voce? yes! this is much the best way on all accounts – tea at home and sat talking a little then while A- had Grotza I wrote journal and afterwards stood both of us eating up the remainder of the preserved orange we brought from home and then till now 12 ½ wrote the whole of this page – a little small haily driving snow several times today – R12 ½° on my table and 12 ¼° on the console now at 12 ½ tonight – then sat looking at map of Russia etc. till 1 40/..

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figure-skating-watch-party · 3 years

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Worlds, Olympics and Nebelhorn spots

I’ve just thought that based on the results of 2021 Worlds it would be interesting to do a little compilation and comparison of spots earned for 2022 Worlds, 2022 Olympics and the Nebelhorn situation. (I hope all the numbers are right...)

So first, let’s do the 2022 Worlds spots. I have a comparison here of countries that have more than one spot in a given discipline for 2021 Worlds (that was based on 2019 Worlds results) and how it changed for the next year thanks to these Worlds.

In ladies, the situation is pretty straight-forward I’d say. Thanks to Bradie Tennell and especially Karen Chen USA got the third spot which is so important because Karen, Bradie, Alysa, Mariah, Amber all deserve a chance! Japanese and Russian ladies, as expected, kept the three spots. The same goes to the two South Korean spots. Thanks to great results of Loena Hendrickx and Olga Mikutina, Belgium and Austria can have two participants in ladies next year, though it’s a question if they’ll be able to get the TES minimum to really participate. The biggest loss “on paper” goes to Kazakhstan, Elizabet Tursynbaeva qualified three spots for these Worlds but she was unable to participate and no other Kazakhstan lady got the TES to participate either. Which renders Kazakhstan with the basic quota of 1 skater for next year. But given the fact that they weren’t able to use the spots this year, I’d say it’s not such a loss as it’s for Canada. This year unfortunately the ladies weren’t the strongest and even thought I absolutely adored Madeline’s performances, it wasn’t enough to keep two spots for Canada.

In men, the US and Japan kept 3 spots (poor Vincent though) and Russia got the third one too!! Awesome job by Misha and Evgeni! I was so nervous for them. Keegan Messing, Kevin Aymoz and Jun-hwan Cha also did a great job and got the second spot for their countries. Matteo and Daniel safely kept Italian two spots. And then we have some losses. Only one spot for the Czech Repulic. But given that Czech Republic had two spots this year (thanks to Michal’s eight place in Saitama) and yet neither Jiří Bělohradský, Matyáš Bělohradský and Gregory Reshtenko reached the min TES to qualify, the only one spot available could motivate them. Much more severe in my opinion is this loss for China. Poor Boyang (because it wasn’t his day) and also poor Han Yan (because I think it would be him who’d have to miss next Worlds).

Let’s go to pairs and ice dance.

I just love the fact that ice dance is true to its image of the most conservative discipline and there are so few changes :D Russia, US and Canada are just power-houses in ice dance. Great Britain got the second spot! We can look forward to Fear sisters’ awesomness next year.

And France... France lost one spot... I’ll talk about this a bit later. Let’s say that for Worlds it doesn’t matter that much if P/C grace us with their presence next year, they should qualify two or three spots for 2023 without any problems.

And in pairs there were surprisingly more losses of spots. France lost one, which was a bit expected, I love Hamon/Strekalyn and Keriven/Pierre but it was very unlikely from the beginning that they would keep the two spots. Though it was great nontheless that they both had the opportunity to compete at Worlds!

Austria and Germany finished outside of top ten, which means only one spot for next year. Austria has had only one elite pair team so they sent only Ziegler/Kiefer also to these Worlds even though they had the right for two teams... Though, I almkst forgot that Austria has another young pair Chloe Choinard/Livio Mayr! Germany however... that’s worse. They had two spots, but Hase/Seegert couldn’t go. So they sent only Hocke/Kunkel... They did great but unfortunately only one team will be allowed to go next year... (and let's not forget Efimova/Blommeart if she gets the release from Russia)

And very surprisingly (at least for me) Japan got two spots thanks to a top ten finish. Though again, it’s a question if Japan even has another pairs team that can qualify.

Olympic spots

That was a turmoil (please ISU a bit clearer wording next time maybe). But now everything is clear and we know this:

I wrote “+ 1 chance at Nebelhorn” obviously meaning that the given country can get one more spot at Nebelhorn Trophy. (It gets on my nerves so so incredibly much when people say they have to “re-earn” or “confirm” the spot. Like WT* ?! The spot is not guaranteed they are just guaranteed a chance to fight for the spots as other countries. Let’s say Vincent Zhou will be on the same starting line as Brandan Kerry. So just no “re-earning” and “confirming” please.)

The situation is in many aspects similar to World spots, so I’ll just talk about some of the differences. Well, the main difference is that for Worlds every country whose skater gets the min. TES can send one skater to every category. For the Olympics, the skaters have to fight “even” for the 1 spot.

Which is a problem notably eg. for France in ladies. Mae-Berenice Meite got injured, France can send one lady to Worlds 2022 no problem here (provided she gets the minimum TES) but right now there’s no Olympic spot for French ladies. Right now there’s also no Olympic spot for French pairs even though Hamon/Strekalyn advanced to the FP, they finished too far back to qualify for Olympics. Uffff

The Olympic rules being a bit different from Worlds also mean that USA in ladies and men and Russia in men don’t have the 3 spots right away. They have 2 and a right to fight for the third one. Should be interesting, beginning with the selection of the suitable competitor who’ll be sent to Nebelhorn!

And similarly, while Keegan, Kevin and Jun-hwan; Loena and Olga earned (here really earned) the second spot for their countries at next year’s Worlds, they earned “just” the right for their compatriots to fight for the second spot at the Olympics.

Very sadly, China will have only one participant in men in Beijing T_T

And yeah, France will have only one ice dance team at the Olympics. Obviously, it’s their decision and it’s only sport but ... the more I think about P/C non-participation at these Worlds the more selfish I find it... Yeah, maybe they wanted to show their stand but nobody followed them... so it was kinda useless. Had they participated, France would almost certainly have 2 spots for Words and Olympics.

(Hey, even if they would have seriously trained only since let’s say January and would have shown up with old RD and FD, they would be strong medal contenders. And I also don’t think it was beneficial for them personally to not participate. S/K have their momentum, some judges may began to prefer them...)

Maybe they thought they could qualify via Nebelhorn but that’s simply not possible in this case. I have to admit I would like to imagine Galyavieva/Thauron being sent to the Olympics as it was them who fought for the spot but I can’t see this happening (given no lady and pair yet qualified, Kevin with top ten chance but a medal is really not a certainty, so French federation would certainly want a medal chance at least in ice dance...)

And also very surprisingly, in ladies Poland, Switzerland and Italy haven’t managed yet to qualify. But they will, I believe it!

Nebelhorn

Lastly, Nebelhorn! I have to admit I caaaan’t wait. There are 22 spots for grabs!

I just wrote “some other countries” but essentially, all countries that don’t have a spot yet can participate. I just wrote the most probable candidates. Mainly countries that didn’t advance into FP/FD at Worlds.

(Croatia is in brackets because Petranovic/Souza Kordeiru split shortly after Worlds, and North Korea banned all athletes, and well everyone, from travelling abroad so... )

So my guesses who’ll qualify ;)

MEN: US, Russia, Canada, France, Germany, Australia, Azerbaijan (I want to see Vladimir Litvinsev at the Olympics, he deserves)

LADIES: US, Switzerland, Italy, Taipei, Poland, France (fingers crossed for literally everyone here)

PAIRS: China, Belarus, France, Georgia

ICE DANCE: Finland, Czech Republic, Italy, UK, Hungary (I was a bit shocked and sad that Turkkila/Versluis didn’t make it into FD at Worlds so I hope they’ll qualify here. And I also hope the Taschlers qualify because it would mean a participation in every category at the Olympics for the Czech Republic!)

#figure skating #figureskating #worlds 2021 #olympics 2022 #qualification #season 2020/2021 #watch party #nebelhorn trophy

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andallthatmishigas · 3 years

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Tagged by my dear @aboxfullofdarkness

Nickname(s): I actually told my board recently that @rahleeyah sometimes calls me Lady Bug and it makes my heart so happy, so now all my Shakespeare people are calling me Lady Bug. And I do now officially answer to ‘babes’ I guess lmao. Leah yells at me in tags with that delightful term of endearment. Amy calls me Twinsie, which I love. Non one else really calls me anything other than my name on a regular basis.

Zodiac: Aries

Height: 5′6″

Last movie I watched: oof genuinely could not tell you. I’ve been deep into SVU not entirely on my own volition. No films in quite some time tbh.

Last thing I googled: I googled the ‘I don’t care for Gob’ meme so I could use it to talk about Elliot Stabler. (I don’t care for Elliot)

Fave musician(s): Bette Midler, Barbra Streisand, Fleetwood Mac, ABBA, Taylor Swift, Ed Sheeran, Lil Nas X, Sadie & the Hotheads

Song stuck in my head: currently Bad Habits by Ed Sheeran though most of today it was Don’t Shut Me Down by ABBA.

Other blogs: I’ve got a bunch of hoarded urls and one I use for my venting when I don’t want people to know about my problems. None of my sideblogs are active anymore.

Blogs following: 50. I keep it at 50 so I can always scroll my entire dash and never miss anything.

Amount of sleep: Usually about 6.

Lucky number: 13, 27, 43

What I’m wearing: Disneyland sweatpants, Mouse Rat tshirt

Dream job: To quote my favorite tweet, I don’t dream of labor. (Trophy wife would be my dream job. Let me stay home and do my hobbies and create and not think about making money.)

Dream trip: Leah and I WILL go to Paris and Rome I swear to fucking god. I have a couple of other dream trips I want to take including a SoCal roadtrip with my best friend from college, a PNW trip to see some friends and family in the Seattle area and up to Vancouver to see my cousins, and I really want to do southern Italy and Greece.

Languages: English. Out of practice with French but I was pretty close to fluent about a decade ago. I’ve lost most of my German and Russian and I’ve got a hint of Italian left. And I’ve got enough Hebrew for religious purposes.

Favorite food: Macaroni and Cheese.

Do I play an Instrument: Piano, though it’s been a while. Tried to learn guitar and I have a guitar at the house, but I haven’t touched it in years.

Favorite song: Leaving On A Jetplane by Peter, Paul & Mary

Random fact: I have a makeup cabinet I bought last year and I’ve already run out of space for all my makeup and I need to be stopped but tbh you can pry the eye shadow palettes and literal drawer full of lipsticks out of my cold, dead hands.

Tagging: @yesmadamepresident @rae-gar-targaryen @featherpluckn @blossom--of--snow @bella-caecilia

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kazukimeeternalsnow · 3 years

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Lucy se encontraba en el corredor que llevaba al vestidor asignado al equipo ruso.

Esperaba ansiosa a que Jazzman terminara de dar el anuncio final, y los equipos se retirasen a sus habitaciones. Quería sorprender a Kai, y quizás, con algo de suerte, podría pasar el resto de la tarde con él; eso si su capitán de equipo lo permitía.

Pues sabiendo como era Tala, era casi seguro que ya tuviera preparada una exhaustiva practica de entrenamiento para todos.

—¡il mio amore! —Escuchó decir detrás suyo. Esa voz era realmente inconfundible.

—¡Hola Enrique! —lo saludo, manteniendo un tono sereno.

—Buuu, tan seria como siempre —dijo con desilusión el italiano.

—Ajaja, prefiero no darte la impresión incorrecta. Debería decir que me sorprende que estés aquí, pero supongo que los Majestic también fueron invitados a la fiesta que dará la BBA.

—Hai ragione mi bella dama —confirmó Enrique, tomándola de las manos—. Y hablando de la fiesta. Espero me concedas el honor de bailar conmigo.

—Mmm, no sé si eso sea una buena idea —repuso Lucy, intentando soltarse de su agarre, de forma sutil.

—¡Oh vamos! Estoy casi seguro de que Kai ni siquiera ira a la fiesta, por estar entrenando —replicó—. Además…, será una pena que no luzcas el hermoso vestido que te diseño tu tía para esta ocasión tan especial.

Y antes de que Lucy pudiera decirle algo; un par de brazos rodearon su cintura, tomándola por sorpresa y haciendo que se sonrojara, pues sabía bien de quien se trataba.

—Para tu información, ya tenía planeado asistir a la fiesta —informó molesto el recién llegado Kai. Le fastidiaba muchísimo la confianza que el italiano se tomaba con Lucy—. Bajo ninguna circunstancia me perdería la oportunidad de ver a “mi novia” luciendo tan hermosa y elegante—afirmó dedicándole una mirada asesina a Enrique.

La cabeza de Lucy daba vueltas, había querido sorprender a Kai, pero ella había terminado siendo la sorprendida.

--- --- ---

Lucy was in the corridor that led to the locker room assigned to the Russian team.

She was waiting anxiously for Jazzman to finish making the final announcement, and the teams to retire to their rooms. She wanted to surprise Kai, and maybe, hopefully, she could spend the rest of the afternoon with him; that's if her team captain allowed it.

Well knowing what Tala was like, she was almost certain that she already had an exhaustive training practice prepared for everyone.

"My love!" She - she heard her say behind him. That voice was truly unmistakable.

-Hello, Enrique! She greeted him, keeping her tone cool.

"Buuu, as serious as ever," said the Italian disappointed.

"Ahaha, I'd rather not give you the wrong impression." I should say I'm surprised you're here, but I guess the Majestic were also invited to the BBA party.

"Hai ragione my fair lady," Enrique confirmed, taking her by the hands. And speaking of the party. I hope you grant me the honor of dancing with me.

"Hmm, I don't know if that's a good idea," Lucy said, trying to loosen her grip, subtly.

-Oh, come on! I'm pretty sure Kai won't even go to the party, as she's training, ”he replied. Also ... it will be a shame if you don't wear the beautiful dress that your aunt designed for this special occasion.

And before Lucy could tell him anything; a pair of arms encircled her waist, taking her by surprise and making her blush, for she knew well who she was.

"For your information, I had already planned to attend the party," the newcomer Kai reported annoyed. The Italian's confidence in Lucy annoyed him terribly. Under no circumstances would I miss the opportunity to see "my girlfriend" looking so beautiful and elegant, "she affirmed, giving Enrique a murderous look.

Lucy's head was spinning, she had wanted to surprise Kai, but she had ended up being the one surprised.

#beyblade fandom #beyblade fanart #beyblade fanfiction #beyblade oc #kai hiwatari x oc

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moonlitfirefly · 3 years

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Marie of Lorraine is my cup of tea.

VIRGINIA HALL. A Baltimore unsung hero (I have never heard of her until today), a spy, a woman with an eight pound prosthetic, anti-fascist, and a true enemy of Nazi Germany and Vichy France! She was denied service into the American Foreign Service for being a woman. But while living in Europe The “Limping Lady” was recruited by the infamous Vera Atkins. She is my favorite cup of tea, a badass women on the side against fascism! And top off my cup of tea, “Marie of Lyon” is an Aries woman, born April 6, 1906 ♈️

🇺🇸 United States

🇬🇧 United Kingdom

🇫🇷☨ Free France

(More on NPR: https://www.npr.org/2019/04/18/711356336/a-woman-of-no-importance-finally-gets-her-due )

( https://www.intelligence.gov/index.php/people/barrier-breakers-in-history/662-1945-virginia-hall )

“World War II's 'Most Dangerous’ Allied Spy was an American woman with a wooden leg.

Virginia Hall, a.k.a. the ‘Limping Lady,’ organized sabotage and rescue operations across Vichy France, paving the way for the Allied invasion. She was America’s Greatest Female Spy.

During World War II, Nazi officials were constantly hunting down resistance fighters and the allied spies who aided them. But there was one foreign operative the Third Reich held special contempt for—a woman responsible for more jailbreaks, sabotage missions and leaks of Nazi troop movements than any spy in France. Her name was Virginia Hall, but the Nazis knew her only as “the limping lady.”

Virginia Hall did walk with a pronounced limp, the result of a freak hunting accident that required the amputation of her left leg below the knee. In its place was an ungainly seven-pound wooden prosthetic that she lovingly nicknamed Cuthbert.

Hall was raised in Baltimore, Maryland by a wealthy and worldly family that put no limits on their daughter’s potential. Athletic, sharp and funny, she was voted “the most original in our class” in her high school yearbook. She began her college studies at Barnard and Radcliffe, but finished them in Paris and Vienna, becoming fluent in French, German and Italian, with a little Russian on the side.After graduation, Hall applied to the U.S. Foreign Service, eager to see the world and serve her country, but was shocked to get a rejection letter reading, in effect, “No women, not going to happen”

Hall went back to Paris as a civilian in 1940 on the eve of the German invasion. She drove ambulances for the French army and fled to England when France capitulated to the Nazis. At a cocktail party in London, Hall was “railing against Hitler,” says Pearson, when a stranger handed her a business card and said, “If you’re really interested in stopping Hitler, come and see me.”

The woman was none other than Vera Atkins, a British spymaster believed to be Ian Fleming’s inspiration for Miss Moneypenny in the James Bond series. Atkins, who recruited agents for Winston Churchill’s newly created Special Operations Executive (SOE), was impressed with Hall’s firsthand knowledge of French countryside, her multi-language fluency and her unflappable moxie.

In 1941, Hall became the SOE’s first female resident agent in France, complete with a fake name and forged papers as an American reporter with the New York Post. She quickly proved exceptionally skilled at not only radioing back information on German troop movements and military posts, but also at recruiting a network of loyal resistance spies in central France.

What 1940s spy craft lacked in technological sophistication, it made up in creativity. The BBC would insert coded messages into its nightly news radio broadcasts. Hall would file “news” stories with her editor in New York embedded with coded missives for her SOE bosses in London.

“In Lyon, Hall would put a potted geranium in her window when there was a pickup to be made,” says Pearson, who spoke to some of Hall’s aging compatriots in France. “And the pickup would be a message behind a loose brick in a particular wall, or it might be go to a certain cafe, and if there’s a message, the bartender would give you a glass with something stuck to the bottom of it.”

Hall became so notorious to Nazi leaders that the Gestapo dubbed her “the most dangerous of all Allied spies.” When Barbie and the Gestapo distributed wanted posters for the “limping lady,” Hall fled the country the only way she could, a grueling 50-mile trek over the Pyrenees mountains southward into Spain. Her Spanish guides first refused to take a woman, let alone an amputee, but she would not be deterred. The November weather was bitter cold and her prosthetic was agonizing.

At a safe house in the mountains, Hall radioed her superiors in London to report that she was OK, but that Cuthbert was giving her trouble. The deadly serious reply from SOE headquarters, which mistook Cuthbert for an informant, read, “If Cuthbert is giving you difficulty, have him eliminated.”

But Hall wasn’t done fighting Nazis. Since the British OES refused to send her back into France as a marked woman, Hall signed up with the U.S. Office of Strategic Service (OSS), a precursor to the CIA.

In 1944, months before the D-Day invasion at Normandy, Hall rode a British torpedo ship to France, and disguised as a 60-year-old peasant woman, criss-crossed the French countryside organizing sabotage missions against the German army. In one OSS report, Hall’s team was credited with derailing freight trains, blowing up four bridges, killing 150 Nazis and capturing 500 more.

After the war, Hall was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, one of the highest U.S. military honors for bravery in combat. She was the only woman to receive the award during World War II. Back home, she continued to work for the CIA until her mandatory retirement at age 60. Hall passed away in 1982”-(source: Colourised PIECE of JAKE)

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eurosong · 3 years

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Undo my ESC '21 (semi-final two)

Good afternoon folks, and welcome to the second part of Undo my ESC – my annual quest to make the year’s Eurovision better (at least, for me xD) by making a feasible change in each country – it could be something as small as altering a lyric or a staging detail, or as big as a different artist entirely winning the NF. Semi-final one was here so let's jump straight into SF2!

🇸🇲 San Marino: We're thrown into the deep end here with a fan fav that doesn't do at all for me. I'm one of maybe 5 people on the planet who prefers Freaky by far, I guess? I'm happy for Senhit to be getting so much love and for the diminutive serene republic to finally have a shot at a good result - but I'm not so keen on the way it's been done. There's a bit of cognitive dissonance for me because my favourite thing about Adrenalina is Flo Rida's rap, but I don't like the idea of bringing in famed American artists like "ringers" to elevate a song above one with "only" local talent. I would be so tempted to give the rap part to local artist IROL instead to spit some hot bars in Italian.

🇪🇪 Estonia: I had hope this year, I really did, for my era of absolutely adoring Estonia at ESC to be revived after 4 painful years. There were so many good songs at this year's Eesti Laul, like those of Ivo Linna, Egert, Gram of fun, Heleza - but ultimately, my huge favourite was, as expected, Jüri Pootsmann. Anyone who followed this blog back in 2016 knows how much I adore Jüri and was desperate to see him get a redemption arc at ESC itself. Magus melanhoolia was one of the best songs of the season for me and one of the best stagings. As much as I prefer '20 artists to get their shot in '21, problematic Uku with his toxic ex vibes song will have to step aside and let the Jüri renaissance happen here.

🇨🇿 Czechia: I really dig Benny Cristo - he has personality, presence and his own enjoyable style. At first I was kinda disappointed with Omaga because I was expecting something more in the vein of Kemama, with more pronounced Afrobeat influences. But it has grown on me a lot too. My change? Add more Czech than just one blink-and-you-miss-it line, mate! (Article continues below)

🇬🇷 Greece: I see this being talked up as potential televote top 3 and I just don't get it. Maybe it's the way the chorus rhymes dance with itself three times (and uses the term rockin' romance unironically); maybe it's the way that there are better 80s-inspired songs both in ESC and many fallen tributes in the NF season... it just leaves me cold. I actually preferred Supergirl and my change would be for Stefania to bring something with some actual Greek flair.

🇦🇹 Austria: I’ll echo what I said last year about Österreich – how did they go from Conchita to a guy who wished he wouldn’t have gay kids like this? I find both of this guy's songs insipid in different ways and I would invite Pænda back instead to avenge her getting robbed with the beautiful Limits. Or give a second shot at glory to the incredible Cesár!

🇵🇱 Poland: Unpopular opinion, but I absolutely love The Ride, and I feel bad for Alicja, but I much prefer it to Empires. What started as an ironic fondness for Rafał's cringy uncle vibes ended up being genuine appreciation - it's one of the few 80s-inspired songs that sound like they actually could have come out of that decade rather than like modern pastiches. And Raf actually does have an awkward charisma. My change - insert some Polish! Poland does so well with natural sounding bilingual efforts in JESC, they should bring it to the main contest too!

🇲🇩 Moldova: I was lowkey prepared to be disappointed by Moldova - I actually enjoyed Prison a lot and the news that they were going in a completely different direction didn't sit so well with me. And yet, I also love Sugar. Natalia's power! My changes: get rid of that weird scene with literally egg on her face - too on the nose for me. And incorporate a bit of the stellar Russian translation, Tuz bubi, because I'm always going to be advocating for more linguistic diversity xD

🇮🇸 Iceland: Daði Freyr can literally do no wrong with me. Whilst it doesn't have the same intense extra-fandom hype that Think about things did, I think I like Ten years even more. Nothing to change here.

🇷🇸 Serbia: It's no secret that Hurricane were far from my favourites at Beovizija 20, and that I find this a downgrade for Sanja compared to her powerful '16 song. And yet... Hasta la vista grew on me a lot, and so has Loco loco. It's something that is definitely scratching an itch at this year's ESC and the burst of anarchic energy it'll provide will be amazing. I am seriously tempted to change to the acoustic version, though, which has all the attitude of the original but is more beautiful for me and lets the girls' voices shine more.

🇬🇪 Georgia: Georgia keeps serving acquired tastes, and as a patron saint of marginal genres and I love them for that. This year, they've gone for something that even many fans of Tornike find hard to swallow - gone is the roaring rock of last year, replaced with a much more contemplative, soft effort that reminds me a little of Lou Reed. I enjoy both songs, but I can't deny preferring 2020. At the same time, I admire the chutzpah required to send something so different. I just wish there could be a moment to properly showcase T's powerhouse vocals.

🇦🇱 Albania: It was an odd Festival i këngës this year, outdoors in the freezing cold and without the orchestra that makes the songs soar so much more for me. Karma is a perfectly respectable winner, albeit one that lacks the immediacy and rawness of Shaj, Ktheju tokës and Mall. In my ideal alternate reälity, Arilena Ara would have been invited back. She'd bring a song as beautiful as Shaj - and not do a revamp into English that removes its edge this time.

🇵🇹 Portugal: 2015-2020 was a full on Portugal stan era for me. I want to believe that this year is an aberration and that in 2022, our lusitanian neighbours will produce the goods once again. Because ending a colossal streak of not sending songs that don't include Portuguese for this? I am baffled. I wanted the anthemic Joana do mar, produced beautifully by Luísa Sobral, or the timeless Contramão, which sounds like it escaped a Nouvelle Vague soundtrack. Saudade, Por um triz or a number of others would have been grand too.

🇧🇬 Bulgaria: I wasn't expecting much from Bulgaria - I really didn't and don't like TGS and the majority of songs in Victoria's NF-but-not-really aren't my cup of tea. I was happy she got her second chance, but resigned to not liking the song much that would get picked. And then, my fav, which was last in many community ratings, ended up being her pick. I adore GUIGO and believe it has the possibility to do very, very well at Rotterdam and be one of the 'moments' of the evening.

🇫🇮 Finland: CRIMINAL how YLE treated Aksel - it felt like he wasn't the defending champion, and that Erika Vikman had won the previous year. They also - I believe, deliberately - split his vote by making his just one of a number of ballads, so of course what stood out most were the two decidedly non-ballady songs. Finland only two years ago had a single-artist UMK. They could and should have brought it back for Aksel. I'd hope Hurt would win it, because that song is stunning.

🇱🇻 Latvia: I was, and am, delighted that Latvia stuck with Samanta Tina. The lady lives and breathes ESC, even wrote a university thesis about it, and if she tried so many times, finally won and then DIDN'T get to go to ESC, I would have gone to LTV headquarters personally to remonstrate. I really like both her songs. The moon is rising is poised, powerful and like nothing else this year. The only thing I'd change is adding some Latvian because it's a gorgeous language and we've been waiting for ages to hear it again.

🇨🇭 Switzerland: Gjon's song is once again not really my cup of tea, or tears - but I enjoy it better than last year's and I'm glad he's back. Highkey wish it did include Albanian or Romansch like confused commenters last year thought it did.

🇩🇰 Denmark: There is literally no excuse for Denmark's treatment of Ben & Tan. I'm not even a big fan of their music at all, out to not even allow them to compete in DMGP to defend their win with Iron heart? Even though there are songs that competed in DMGP that I prefer a lot, most notably Står lige her, I would probably have let them have a proper second chance.

And the automatic qualifiers voting in this semi -

🇫🇷 France: For me, France had an absolutely enthralling, sincere, perfectly Gallic entry that hit me so hard in the feels. And whilst I respect Voilà, no, that wasn't it. It was Pourvu qu'on m'aime, easily one of the best songs I heard all year inside NFs or out. I find Voilà a little too mannered and affected, whilst PQM is a shot straight from Juliette's heart into mine. In my dream, it'd have won CVQD and be receiving the same love that Voilà is right now.

🇪🇸 Spain: Whilst it is getting next to no love in the fandom and seems quite forgotten, I find Voy a quedarme one of the best songs sent from this country in several years - and I say that having preferred Memoria. I am proud of Blas and love that he had a hand in writing this song. My change? He said recently that the staging in Rotterdam won't be inspired by the poignant music video despite wanting it to be - I would incorporate elements from it in the live.

🇬🇧 United Kingdom: Frankly, I think almost all the Big 5+1 brought it this year, with the notable exception of Germany. Embers is the banger that I never thought was coming from James Newman, and it's been one of the biggest earworms of the season. I wouldn't change anything about it - I'd just ensure that the staging replicated the energy of the video as much as possible!

#eurovision #esc 2021 #opinion #eurovision song contest #eurovision 2021

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

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Push and Pull (Part 8)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, Canon description of violence, murder and blood.

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Daphne liked to think she was a pretty good PI. The investigation part of it she seemed to be great at. She'd gotten herself a reputation for it. But her people skills still needed some work, Foggy hadn't been wrong about that one. And it was times like this where she doubted herself with her job and wondered how she even got hired in the first place. She was running around her apartment, shimmying into her jeans and tugging a grey long sleeve tee over her head. She'd woken up at 10am to see 5 missed calls from Mr Lee. The client she forgot even existed the past few days. After snooping in his son’s house and coming to the conclusion something was off, other than him fucking his own father’s wife, she forgot to move the meeting up to warn him. With everything Matt and Italian related and then Foggy turning up trying to be friends, she'd forgotten about the old man.

Their original meeting had been the day before and obviously she hadn't turned up. Now she was stuffing all her picture evidence in her backpack before flying out her door. She felt bad that she'd kept him waiting, especially when she had a bad feeling about his son. She was even considering waving the fee of her investigation for being such a shitty person and forgetting about him. Her hair was shoved up into a messy bun perched high on her head and she didn't have time to dwell on it as she flagged down a cab. Before long she was being dropped off outside a fancy looking house. She made him pull over a few houses down, always being a little precautious and protecting her clients confidentiality.

"Could you wait for me?" She asked, grabbing the bills from her jeans pocket and passing it to him. With a grunt and nod as a reply, she got out and walked to the house owned by Mr Lee.

It was a large modern looking house and looked far more expensive than anything she'd ever hope to own. But when she got to the front door she noticed it was open slightly and she got an ice cold feeling of dread slip down her spine.

"Mr Lee?" She called out hesitantly. There was no answer but something in her gut was firing alarm bells off left and right in her brain. With a shaky breath she pushed open the door with a creak. It was quiet, eerily so, as she stepped into a grand looking foyer. She glanced to her left, an archway that led to what looked to be some kind of office and library. She made her way over calling his name again with no answer. As soon as she stepped foot inside the office, her blood ran cold. There crumpled in a heap on the floor was Mr Lee. Very dead and very much covered in a ridiculous amount of blood.

She'd been in a lot of situations but she hadn't ever seen a dead body before. The amount of blood made bile rise in her throat and panic seized her limbs. She knew something was off about this and she could have warned him. He was dead because of her and the guilt hit her like a tonne of bricks. A sudden creak of the floorboards behind her had her whipping around, coming face to face with Mr Lee's son, Keiran. He was covered in his father's blood, looking rumpled and crazed with a sinister grin. A glint drew her eyes to his right hand to see the knife he'd used on his own father glaring back at her. He took a step towards her and she took one back. She didn't know if she'd be able to get out of this one and her heart was beating so fast she was surprised it didn't implode.

"What do we have here? The PI, I presume? How unfortunate that you came," his voice was smooth, no faltering or anything betraying what he had done. That scared her more than anything.

"What do you want?" She bit out, edging to the side a little. Maybe if she could buy some time she'd be able to make a dash for it.

"Well you see, we have a problem. I know you've been snooping around. Daddy dearest told me before… well, you know," he smirked cruelly at her. Her eyes flit to the lifeless body on the floor and her throat tightened. Mr Lee was a good man. He didn't deserve this. She should have warned him.

"If I let you go, you have a lot of evidence that puts me in a bad situation. So you can see what my issue is here, right? I mean, I can't let you go," he laughed and it was the sound of a crazy person. She knew there would be no reasoning with him.

He moved quicker than she expected and she ducked, dodging him. But then his large hand grabbed a fistful of the back of her shirt and threw her into the wall. She cried out in pain and suddenly he was standing right in front of her, his knife pointing at her. He still wore the creepy smile painted on his lips and she tried to appear confident despite her trembling hands.

"Where's your phone?" He demanded. She clenched her jaw, eyes glancing between his maniac face and the large knife pointed at her. She hated how it reminded her of what happened with the Russians and how much that had messed her up.

"My front left pocket," she replied reluctantly. She had no choice but to play along until she could try and figure a way out of this. She cringed as he stuffed his hand in her pocket, invading her personal space. He looked at it, then her, and with a smirk he dropped it into a glass of water on the desk with a plop.

"You really should've minded your own business," he mused softly, still seemingly not perturbed by anything about the whole thing. He took a step back, twirling the knife carelessly as he did. Once his eyes went to look back to his kill, no doubt to admire it, she made a mad dash for the door. He was on her in seconds though. It was a flurry of movements as she tried to dodge his advances and it left slices on both her arms from trying to protect herself. They weren't deep and she tried to ignore them. She kicked his knee, and he went down but on his way he swiped wide and caught her stomach on the side. She cried out as the pain ripped through her. That one hurt like a bitch and would definitely need stitches. If she even got out of this. She lost track of the milder slices he got in as she tried to fight him off with graceless punches and kicks. She wasn't a trained fighter but she was ferocious when she needed to be.

She managed to disarm him and the knife clattered to the floor. But it only seemed to make him angier as he tackled her to the floor. He was much heavier than her and his large hands wrapped around her delicate throat making her gasp for air. She bucked wildly trying to free herself but he just gripped harder. She wanted to tell him he was a monster for what he'd done. That she hoped he'd rot in hell. But no words came out with her desperate choking gasps as he strangled her. Her right hand darted to the side, desperately trying to find something, anything, to help her. Something cold and hard brushed against her fingertips and she tried to reach it. Her vision was spotting now and she wouldn't have much longer. The blood loss wasn't helping either. But she refused to die by this asshole's hands.

She managed to grab what felt like a statue and hit him over the head with it. He fell off her, out cold. She scrambled to sit up, big heaving gasps of air filling her now burning lungs. Her bloodied fingers touched her throat gingerly and she winced. She stood on shaky feet, the mix of blood loss and being strangled had her disoriented and dizzy. She shot him a fleeting look and he was still breathing, just knocked out. She couldn't work out if she was disappointed or not. The shock set in then and she looked at Mr Lee. His end would have been brutal and this asshole no doubt dragged it out. It was all her fault. She could have stopped it. A stifled sob left her lips as she stumbled out of the house. Calling the cops didn't even pass her mind just then, she didn’t have a phone anymore anyway. She needed to get help before she died from blood loss. Then this struggle would have been for nothing. She made her way uneasily to the cab and got in.

"Holy shit, lady! You need to get to the hospital!" The cab driver exclaimed as he glanced at her. She was bleeding from the numerous cuts to her arms and bleeding profusely from the big gash on her lower belly.

"No hospitals. Just drive," she rasped with a broken voice. She didn't know where to go really but there was only one person in mind and he owed her anyway. It was still morning but it was Saturday so she just hoped that he wasn't busy. She rattled off Matt’s address before leaning heavily against the window as her breathing got more shallow. She only knew his address because she'd bothered Brett for it not long ago. He and Foggy knew where she lived, she felt like it was only fair.

The cab driver refused to take any more money after dropping her off. He'd offered to help her inside but she waved him away. The stairs were hard to manage in the state she was in. Spots danced in her vision and she was losing more and more blood by the minute. She was in a state of shock completely now. Both physical and emotional shock. Her chest was heaving with broken sobs and not for her own injuries. She leaned heavily against the wall, no doubt leaving a trail of blood behind her but she was in no state to even consider that. She was lucky no one saw the state she was in as she made her way to the door she was after.

Before she had a chance to raise her weak hand to knock, it swung open anyway. If she was in her right mind she'd consider how weird it was to see Matt in sweats and a vest for once with nothing obscuring his face.

"Daphne? Jesus christ, what happened?" He sounded a mix of shock and panic but she didn't reply in words. Just the strangled sound of a sob she was trying to keep to herself. She swayed on her feet and he was quick to wrap an arm around her, leading her to his sofa. He carefully sat her down and disappeared from her vision for a moment. Everything sounded like it was underwater and she kept getting flashes of Mr Lee's dead body. She didn't realise her whole body was shaking.

The feel of two large hands on either side of her face made her jump, wide startled eyes glancing at the face in front of her.

"Just breathe, you're gonna be okay," Matt soothed. She blinked at him wondering why he sounded so far away. Why did she feel like her body was floating? She kept zoning in and out, only picking up on Matt muttering curse words and murmuring to her that she was safe.

"I need to take this off to help. Is that okay?" He asked softly like he was scared to spook her. She blinked at him dumbly before nodding. He was careful in removing her shirt and she could feel his unseeing eyes surveying the damage. He seemed to settle on the deep gash on her lower left side of her stomach.

"I need to stitch this, lay down for me," he instructed with a sigh. She tried to lay down but winced. Her whole body was hurting in one way or another. She felt like a train had run her over. He eased her on her back and she stared at the ceiling as she went in and out of it. Everything was so fuzzy and her ears were ringing. She was already in so much pain that it didn't even faze her when he cleaned her wound and started on stitching it.

"Was it the Italians?" He bit out. She just about registered the angry tick in his jaw when she looked at him. Her eyes squeezed shut as she shook her head and inhaled a shaky breath. She felt her lower lip tremble when she thought of Mr Lee. Matt seemed to register she wasn't up for answering questions yet and he continued to fix her up and clean her wounds. When he was done, he helped her back into her sliced up shirt and sat her up.

"Can… can I use your phone?" She rasped. Her voice was raw and she cleared her throat a little. He nodded tensely, passing over his cell phone. Her hands were trembling though and she felt a wave of hopelessness at not even managing a simple task. She actually found herself relieved when Matt’s large hand rested over hers before delicately taking the phone back.

"Who do you need to call?" He asked softly.

"Brett," she replied simply. She needed to tell him what happened and she hoped the asshole would still be there so they could arrest him.

She heard the beeping as Matt dialled and then held it to her ear. Brett picked up after a few rings.

"Murdock, everything alright?" He asked, no doubt since the call was coming from Matt’s phone.

"Brett, it's Daphne," she hated how bad her voice sounded from the abuse it took. The shock was wearing off and now she was left with guilt that weighed far too heavy on her and complete hopelessness.

"Daphne, what's wrong?" He asked, concerned. It didn't take a genius to figure out something was wrong with how her voice sounded. She quickly rattled off the address to Mr Lee's house to him.

"He's a client of mine. His son was sleeping with his wife. I had a meeting with him today and… he's dead. His son killed him. I think for the insurance money. I have pictures of the evidence I found about the life insurance and cheating," she stated unemotionally. She was starting to shut down, to keep herself together by a thread.

"And you're sure the son was the one that killed him?" Brett asked, unsure. Ever the cop.

"He attacked me when I turned up, so yeah I'm sure. You need to be careful. He's got a big knife and he's fucking insane," she bit out. She noticed Matt clenching and unclenching his other fist as she spoke.

"Oh shit. Are you at the hospital?" Brett asked. She heard him calling to some of the other cops, telling them to roll out.

"No but I'm getting fixed up. I'll come by tomorrow and give a statement. Drop off what I have," she replied monotonously.

"Alright. Your evidence might be what we need to nail this guy. We'll head out now and keep you updated," Brett said firmly.

"Okay. My phone's broke, should still be at the house. Asshole put it in a glass of water so I couldn't call the cops," she huffed.

"Alright, you with Murdock?" He asked, the sound of a car door shutting on his end of the phone. She couldn't really deny it since she was using his phone.

"Yeah," she said softly.

"Alright. I'll call him when I got news. Be safe, Daphne," with that he hung up and Matt moved the phone from her.

She felt a swirl of emotions surging inside of her after stuffing them down for the phone call. She could feel herself about to snap and she wished she was somewhere alone where she could cry and deal with this in private. She wasn't so lucky.

"Daphne…" Matt said softly. Her breathing hitched, lower lip wobbling a little as she glared at her boots that were splattered with blood.

"This is my fault," she whispered brokenly.

"No, it's not," he insisted, scooting closer to her from where he was perched on the coffee table.

"Yes it is! You don't get it! I knew. I fucking knew something was wrong, Matt. I checked out this guy's apartment days ago and when I saw the life insurance stuff… I had a bad feeling and I was gonna warn Mr Lee. But I've been so wrapped up in so much bullshit lately that I forgot about him. I forgot he even existed! What kind of person does that?! If I warned him he'd still be alive right now!" she was boarding on hysterical the more she spoke.

Her chest constricted making her feel like she couldn't breathe. When Matt’s large hands took her own she clung to them like they were the only thing keeping her from floating away.

"You said yourself, this guy's insane. Even if you warned Mr Lee, this guy would find a way. There's nothing you could have done. But what you can do is help put him behind bars. You've got evidence and he attacked you. Use this to get justice for Mr Lee," he murmured patiently. She tried to let his words calm her a little. She knew he was mostly right. Even if she told Mr Lee it was only a matter of time before it happened anyway. And she learnt from her interactions that Mr Lee loved his son despite knowing he was screwing his wife behind his back. She was sure he either wouldn't have believed her or chose to be in denial anyway. But it still hurt her. Knowing she hadn't done enough.

She sniffled, still gripping his hands as she tried to calm herself down. When she glanced at his face, his unseeing eyes were on her face, a patient and sympathetic look on it.

"Trust me, I know about guilt. Any time someone I let get away hurts someone else, it kills me inside. But one day you have to realise you can't change the past. The what ifs only hurt you," he sighed. She wondered what it must be like for him. Experiencing this kind of guilt all the time. She didn't know how he coped. She took her hands back, wiping the tears that had stained her face.

"Sorry. I'm just… being dramatic," she snorted mirthlessly.

"No, you're not. You've been through something traumatic, you have every right to feel the way you do. But I want you to know that it's not your fault," he implored. She nodded, inhaling a deep breath to help ground her. She really hadn't expected today to go the way it did.

With the shock wearing off, the pain was really setting in followed by a large helping of exhaustion.

"I should uh… probably head home," she yawned with a wince. He just quirked a brow at her from where he sat.

"You can stay here and rest. Just try and sleep most of it off and tomorrow you can talk to Brett," he left no room for argument and it reminded her very much of when he turned up to her apartment with a gunshot wound.

"Guess we're even now," she smirked weakly. He chuckled with a shake of his head.

"Let's not make it a habit," he grinned. He stood up and took the first aid kit with him. It wasn't even lunch time yet but she knew she should heed his advice. She'd been through a lot and she needed to rest to help heal. She lay back down carefully, hoping to just have a short nap for a while. As she started dozing off she felt a light blanket being delicately placed on top of her. Her pain started to fade into nothing as she slipped off to sleep.

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years

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If Bombshells ever returned, maybe to explore the aftereffects of the war. Here are some superheroines and supervillainesses that could join the fight into the new era. The Cold War.

Jesse Quick; Jesse would totally join the families providing their homes to the displaced Jews of Europe while at the same time protecting her city from all sorts of crime. But her storyline might come with learning that in her need to help everyone and solving everyone's problems since she has the technology and the privlege, well... kinda appears as a white savior. At least to Lisa Snart which brings me to...

Golden Glider: Well I think we can all guess that Lisa has a Jewish-like last name and while her big bro, Captain Cold, Leonard was working with the Nazis, I am so arguing that he was just conveinately converting in order to save his skin and his sister's. Anyway with her brother in jail and Europe in shambles after the war, Lisa can travel to America with other displaced Jews. Some families were kind enough to "foster" these peoples which is where Jesse comes in. Well Lisa isn't the type to accept the "pity" and dislikes how priviliged a life, Jesse leads. Then comes a whole new yet classic Flash vs the Rogues rivalry.

Nyssa ah Gul: How can we forget another misplaced Jew. Well not Jew but Ra ah Gul's other daughter, Nyssa, whose entire adopted family died in the concentration camps while Ra was off whatevering with the Lazerus Pit. But since Ra's long gone from the picture, I suppose Nyssa will have to seek answers from Talia about why she didn't try to help her or contact her after finding out they were sisters.

Mya: Meanwhile after WWII, India is revving up for a revolution after being used and abused by the British Empire in a war they didn't even want to be in. And after being in the war, STILL treated like second class citizens. That's why Myra, prodigy of Shiva is up to lead a revolution for her people.

Gypsy: Let’s not forget about all the other groups that Nazis were prejudiced against. Cynthia Reynolds or "Gypsy" as the SS slurred against her and her Romanian family. But with Europe's landscape in disarray, Cynthia can use her earth-bending powers to help and educate people that she is more than the fortune telling, pick pocketing stereotype that the world believes.

Volcana: Now I know we didn't really get into Italy's part in WWII, but someone with volcano powers would totally be working in Italy, specifically Pompeii. The one issue is that, like in her origin story, she was working for Mussolini against her will and the Italian still wants their "super weapon" under lock and key in case of WWIII.

Thorn: Meanwhile the late 40s-early 50s is totally not a time to be woman with a mental illness. Especially when the "understanding" doctors try to lobtomize you. So Roselyn Forrest's double personality disorder is a big problem in her life. Especially since her second personality is a scythe weilding maniac and her uncle wants to put her in an institution. Added to the fact that she is still suffering under Irish discrimination. Hopefully the Batgirls can help, not only change child labor laws, but views on mental illness too. Giganta: A gorilla turned into a girl. Why shouldn't that be an experiment by the crazy Americans or Russians in a way to beat each other as the world superpower. Well technically the Russians wanted to send a gorilla into space and beat the Americans, but they thought a woman astronaut (or as they called cosmonaut) would make them look better. (All true look up Valentina , first woman in space). But besides being part of the space race, Giganta can bring spotlight to Africa where she was born, and which is being divided by the major world powers for exploitation.

Crimson Fox: Constance D' Amis, French heiress would be part of the small army of woman workers during the YALTA conferance trying to get their say into how to rebuild Europe for the benefit of all. Who knows, maybe she even talked to Selina Delgatti. Hey French heiresses and Italian heiresses must know each other. Plus she expels hormones that can make anyone under her thrall which leads me to...

Queen Bee: Another pheromone expelling woman. A villainess though. Africa wasn't the only one being exploited and colonized. The former Ottoman Empire was being exploited for its oil and Lebenon is taken over by the French (Basically ample reason for Constance to go to Lebenon and fight Queen Bee). And the former queen is certainly not above going to the Russians to fight the US/Europe to get her country back. Or just team up with Lex Luthor to take down Supergirl and get her country back. I just imagine Lex and --- to be like an evil Mr.Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet okay. All suave, witty banter. It makes sense in my head.

Catherine Colbert: A bit like Lois Lane, Catherine is an everygirl. Well if the everygirl was a daughter of an dimplomat and had her sights on making a name for herself in NASA and trying to avoid the pressures of mysgonistic men that woman aren't fit for government. Being told that she is too emotional and should stay in the kicthen, Catherine rebelled by becoming a stone faced, cutting ice queen in the diplomacy track and also a horrible cook. Artemis and Cheshire: I'm taking a bit from the YJ story in that Artemis and Cheshire are half-french, half-Vietnamese. Since their abusive father was loyal to the Nazis, he disowned them and cast off their Vietnamese mother in Japanese concentration camps. While Artemis made it to America and tried to stay on the good ol American democratic way (while fighting petty looters in the streets of Gotham as one does), Cheshire went to Vietnam where she works as an assasin, for the communists and the non-communists. It doesn't matter to her as long as she gets paid. But times are changing in Vietnam as the fights about communism between the North Vietnamese and South escalate.

Lady Blackhawk: Zinda Blake, hero of WWII and the Blackhawk brigade comes home to nothing. No money. No pension. No respect. Life as a veteran has no perks since no one has money to pay in Europe. Plus she'd still be trying to adjust to civilian life after nonstop combat and the inevitable PTSD while the Germany she loved is split into two. Hopefully Rudi and Helen will help to keep her in a safe place until she can get back on her feet. Miss Martian: While I don't know whose in Harley, Ivy and Viktoria's circus, I feel like Miss Martian would find a safe haven there. While she did not experience the WWII, she did experience a similar prejudice and genocide on Mars being a white martian so I bet she can help with reprations. Or just join Starfire on the fire squad...wait nevermind. Fire is Martian weakness. Well at least have her and Starfire being alien girlfriends exploring the strange Earth world together.

Rocket: Again, haven't had the joy of reading the final vol of Bombshells United so I don't know exactly what Bumblebee has been up to nor the racism she had probably experienced. But Raquel would be in a similar boat. An African American teen in an unjust pre-Civil Rights movement society with the added difficulties of teen mom hood. I really want some spotlight on her whether she joins the Batgirls or strike out on her own or helps Icon just like in the comics.

Mercy Graves: Alongside Lex wherever he is, I want a similar debut to what Mercy did in JL. Mercy takes over LexCorps during Luthor's absence, absolutely crushes it and makes it more of a success than Luthor ever did because she is not obsessed with the Kryptonian heroes. Maybe she even teams up with Waller? Who knows? Or even have two heads, Mercy Graves and Lena Luthor, making millions and making plans, evil or no, always ending on top.

Silver Banshee: A woman whose screams causes people to age. How they could NOT use her in a war, I do not know. But I picture Siobhan's arc going something like after her family dies in battle or something or other, she taps into her genetic banshee powers. Fueled with grief/cynicsm/vengeance she travels around the Iron Curtain, causing death since death is a mercy compared to living in destitute misery.

Plastique and Roxy Rocket: One is a Canadian explosives expert, another just really, really loves rockets. Both would be very useful on either side of the Cold War. They're traditionally illanesses so I could see them as double agents like Cheshire, working for whoever pays the most for their time.

Roulette: Roulette’s big thing is gambling on illegal cage fighting activities. Well lets up the ante by having her big gamble being stoking US/Russian tensions. After all the longer the war goes on, the more she gets paid for her information on the other side, her contacts for weapons, her spies etc. She'd be rolling in dough, and loving it even when under threat of nuclear destruction.

Fire and Ice: No idea how the heck they would fit in to a post WWII world. But let's suppose they want to escape Brazil and Antartica respectively to be able to help out in the aftermath after doing nothing during the war. Jessica Cruz and Aresia vs Star Sapphire Meanwhile with Hal Jordan out of the picture, let's have the infamous Green Lantern vs Star Sapphire rivalry again.

Lady Shiva: Street fighter, assassin, mother of the future Batwoman, Cassandra Cain. Lady Shiva must be part of the Cold War. She is bit of a anti-hero so I doubt anyone would know where her loyalties truly lie, but she'd be on the side of whoever her daughter wishes to protect.

Cassandra Cain: The new Black Bat, continue Katy Kane's work, and the Batgirl's work, and all the work that needs to be done after WWII. She's the new heroine.

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

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Okie doke so I have a lot of asks piled up but I’m gonna need to take my time with them. So in the meantime I’m gonna give you guys a few of my own personal writings while i weed through my writers block. I hope you can understand, I have fourteen prompts to get to but I am a little muddied on getting through each one.

David Headcanons

Italian food used to be his favorite when he was alive. Santa Carla was flooded with immigrants from all over, especially a high concentration of Europeans so he had experienced real Italian cuisine from the few family owned joints that would come and go. When he was turned he tried to defy his vampire roots after learning that garlic didn’t hurt him- only to find out it didn’t hurt him EXTERNALLY. The tragic tango of pasta primavera in his stomach had him sick as a dog for days! Since he’s opted for other cuisines, but secretly he misses when he could freely ingest copious amounts of garlic

Outside of rock, David really loves classical music. Particularly foreign opera. Why? Because it is some of the most intense sounds you will ever hear. The melancholic arias of tortured souls left on the brink of tragedy soothe his untamed internal rage. However, he often doesn’t get to because as soon as he does Paul pitches a fit.

“Aw whaaat? Classical? Who invited the old lady to the party?! “

“Will you shut up and let me listen to my music, asshole?”

“Ooooh excuse me! Yes of course, Lord Snooty von Dickweed. Would you care for your pet poodle and a plate of caviar? Hey! Maybe we can find your balls, dude”

Of course he could just kick him out but it’s far too much of a hassle. He’s genuinely pleased, albeit subtly so, when he managed to snatch up a walkman off a victim so he can listen to his music in peace.

We’ve seen him smoke, but no one really gathers just what a chimney this guy is. David smokes practically every hour, when one burns out he just snags another. Any reason is a good reason to pull out a cigarette. Stressed? Smoke. Hungry? Smoke. Tired? Smoke. Happy? Smoke. But worst of all are his nicotine withdrawals. Seriously, do not approach him when he’s run out of cigarettes. It doesn’t matter who you are. Last time Paul tried to tease him while he was waiting for nightfall, David nearly threw him out into the sun. Withdrawal is far worse as a vampire than it was for him as a human. His restless legs get far more jittery, his back can cramp, it’ll give him an agonizing headache, and his hunger is somehow amplified.

Surprisingly, he can’t stand the 1931 film of Dracula with Bela Lugosi. Not that Lugosi doesn’t do a good job. In fact, it’s far too good. While not appearing visually the same as Vlad Dracul, the bastard who just so happened to be responsible for turning him and his friends back in 1906, his personality is extremely close. Just watching him slink in the shadows, waltzing about in that chilling Hungarian-Romanian accent boils David’s undead blood. If he’s going on the Universal monsters, he prefers Boris Karloff in Frankenstein.

Over the years David has picked up Russian and French. When you’ve been unchanged in an abandoned wreckage of a hotel for over eighty-one years, you learn to pick up a few things. Currently he’s learning German which he finds rather easy so far although he finds himself speaking a tad choppy at times. Sometimes he’ll use the wrong language and end up asking Paul to bring him the wine bottle of blood in Russian. Needless to say he was utterly confused and had to be retold in English.

Despite what one might assume, David does not enjoy having sex with multiple partners. Not polyamory, just sex in general. He finds that hollow humping up against some seasoned tart behind a bar before bidding adieu does nothing for him. If there’s no intense intimacy there’s less really keeping him invested. Now love isn’t exactly what is required, but there has to be some sort of connection to give him the desire to pursue a lover. Quality over quantity. Getting to know his partner is an exciting endeavor that allows him to take control, dominating him or her until they are utterly helpless to his will. A quick fuck is nothing but a way to kill time, which frankly he can find so many more productive things to do when he’s bored that require much more brain power and a lot less sticking himself in something, sorry, someone that he honestly doesn’t know where they’ve been.

Halloween, of course, is his favorite time of year. However he also has a soft spot for Christmas. Frankly the whole peace on Earth and goodwill towards men crap makes him sick simply because no one had ever given a crap about him, but the entire feeling of it all did give him a sense of calm. The lights are a stunning sight for sure, and he'd even have a few less shitty humans mistaking him for one of the teen runaways living on the Santa Carla streets. Well, he wasn't , but he wasn't about to tell that to some sweet old lady handing out rusty tins of fresh brownies. Who the hell could waste brownies? Not him. His favorite memory goes back to 1904 when he and the boys managed to scrape up enough dough between pick pocketing gigs to share a room at a decent hotel. The managers wife even brought them up the leftovers from their own Christmas dinner, half a roast bird, a plate of rolls, a fat bowl of mashed potatoes and some gravy. They of course were grateful, and Paul couldn't help but flirt just to kiss ass. Dwayne got Paul a new knife, Marko got David this pretty swanky looking cigarette case he snatched off some rich dick who mistook him for a shoe shiner, David found some old iron ring they couldn't sell and gave it to Dwayne, and Paul got a few bottles of rum for them to get Yuletide hammered. Sure it didn’t sound like much of a big deal, but sitting on a real bed for once by a fireplace slamming back booze and roast chicken while whooping Marko’s ass in black jack was the first time in a long time he had genuinely laughed. Since then its been particularly blase, but Marko and Paul will often make a tradition out of a few bottles of booze, throwing some cheap decorations around the hotel, and they all spend the night playing card games over some take out roast chicken and a few quick sides.

#lost boys 1987 #lost boys imagine #the lost boys #lost boys fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #lost boys #fanfic #80s movies #lost boys david #lost boys head canon #headcanon #fandom #fanfiction author

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vadaschiquita · 4 years

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Chiquita | Ch.15

Chapter 14

“This can all end, Jimmy, if you just… tell me where she is,” Nevada said in a singsong voice, levering Jimmy Mucci’s head by tugging at his hair. When no response came, Nevada gut-checked him forcefully, feeling his knuckles ache behind the blow.

It’d been like this for a fortnight. Nevada being reckless, coming close to burning bridges that had taken years to build in a angered frenzy in an attempt to find out Mariana’s location. Pucho could barely keep up with the requests for meetings, and word around the city had spread quickly as soon as Nevada had crossed the Queensboro bridge into Long Island City where the Asian mafia had met his wrath.

Reckless things like that could cost Nevada a lot in the long run, and unfortunately, Pucho had not been able to save him from this one. He’d moved in on them without properly vetting the situation, and now, he had a target from them in a borough that had nothing to do with him and his product. He had no business in crossing over to Queens, and Pucho had been more than clear when attempting to steer Nevada from that side of the bridge.

Pucho’s words had been for deaf ears, because until Nevada had Mariana in his hands again, the recklessness would continue.

Nevada feared no one, and his temperament and mental well-being were hanging on by a thread. He had all the guys working overtime and had the girls coming in with false allegations with the promise of a big reward.

“No one,” Mucci heaved, attempting to lock his remaining good and open eye on Nevada’s face. “No one here knows where she is,” he swallowed, smirking, and Miguel, who’d been standing by knew that his fate was about to get much worst by whatever he was about to say. “And, even if we did… she looks like a good lay,” he chuckled, the sound quickly converting to a pained cry once Nevada connected his fist with the bloodied flesh that was Jimmy’s face.

Blow after blow; grunt after grunt was all that reverberated back from the walls of the warehouse. No one said anything. No one dared interrupt until they knew it was time.

Nevada stepped back, winded, and slightly dizzy. The distinct copper-like smell from the blood on the backs of his hands was clouding his nose. He’d beaten Jimmy Mucci to a pulp, and now he’d toss him somewhere where the Greeks and the Irish could see him, and the Russians up in the Bronx could hear about it, too.

He’d already weeded out the Irish. They hated the Italians, and if they’d done this just to get Nevada to step into their little pissing competition, their fate would be far worst than the one Jimmy Mucci had just met.

Nevada flexed his fingers, wincing slightly once he felt the bones in his hands rearranging. “Drop him off where everyone can see. Let this be a fucking warning. I want my Chiquita, and I want her now,” he growled, his eyes an unnerving color.

Miguel nodded, signaling the other men to do as Nevada had bidden, and quietly he followed him out.

If anyone knew what Nevada was going through, was Miguel. He’d been his driver and immediate hand for as long as he could remember. And, even though he hadn’t voiced it as of yet, Miguel did feel somewhat responsible for Mariana’s current fate. If he hadn’t been pre-occupied with something else, he would’ve been the one picking Mariana up, instead of sending Dylan to run an errand that placed him nearest to her. If Miguel had known that she was coming home, he’d had volunteered to pick her up instead.

Nevada had slammed the door shut, quickly examining his knuckles and twisting his face in slight disgust. He hadn’t seen his hands bruised like they were since before Mariana and him had begun dating. He never succumbed to the violence unless completely and utterly necessary. He had guys willing to dirty their hands in lieu of a steady paycheck. Nevada got his problems solved and they stayed out of jail by doing what they needed to do in order to get the message across.

Two times, already, Nevada had dirtied his hands for the woman he loved, and he’d do so again without hesitation if it meant her safety and that of their unborn child.

Mariana winced, feeling the baby press at her ribs. It was always during this time of the evening where the baby was the rowdiest, but as soon as she shifted, there he was, inching closer to her body in order to bring his hand to her belly to ease the pain across her ribs. It was like he knew or he was synched with the life growing inside of her. He’d whisper softly to the baby, talk them down and out of her ribs until she could breathe easily again.

She’d resorted to sleeping in a slant so that when the baby would ease itself towards her ribs, she could easily slide into a sitting position. Nevada had surprised her with a change of headboard, one that was comfortable against her back. It gave the room a feminine touch and it let anyone know that her presence in his life was more permanent than not.

Now, all she had for support were two flat pillows. She sighed, feeling the prickling sensation forming across her nose. A telling sign that her resolve was not as strong as she’d thought. She cleared her throat, swinging her feet off the mattress and onto the cold floor of the storage room she’d been kept now for thirteen days. She placed her elbows on her knees, leaning forward as much as her belly allowed her to go, attempting to coax the growing life inside of her down.

“Mi amor,” she whispered quietly. “Mi amor, por favor,” she said, running her fingers through her scalp. “I know you miss your dad, but baby please, let me rest.”

She could feel the pressure increase on her ribs and she heaved her sigh, coming to a careful stand. Her captors had bargained with her, if she didn’t attempt to run or scream or attack them in any type of way, the chain around her ankle would come off. It’d only taken a couple of days before she’d begged them to take it off as the pins and needles sensation of her foot was growing to be painful and annoying at the lack of circulation of her swollen feet and ankles.

She placed her hands to her belly, massaging the hardened area just like Nevada did.

“Papi will find us,” she said softly. “Papi won’t rest until we’re back where we belong.”

She hummed and smiled at the fluttering coming from within. Whatever activity her child was doing inside of her, had brought more than comfort to her.

The first couple of days locked in darkness had been beyond stressful. Everything she consumed was brought back up within minutes of consumption and her once over active child had turned silent. She’d cried and prayed, begged the baby and the heavens above for a sign of movement to no avail. And, now, though she highly disliked the discomfort, she would choose it instead of the agony of not feeling them move within her.

Lost in her back and forth pacing, she didn’t notice the door open, let alone the body that had entered the space. When she turned around, she tensed.

“Ricky,” her voice wavered.

He smirked. “Si llego a saber que el culo te iba a crecer, I would’ve gotten you pregnant sooner,” he took a step forward, forcing her to take a step back.

“And, you think I would’ve honestly kept a pregnancy being with you?” she retorted back, softly, but filled with contempt. “There wasn’t a day where you didn’t beat me… belittle me to such a point—”

“Ay, you deserved every single one of your beatings, Mariana. You and that fucking mouth of yours!”

She flinched at the sudden influx of his voice. “If I recall, you loved fucking my mouth, and you never complained when you did,” she responded with a snarl.

Ricky chuckled, taking a step towards the three-legged table. In his hands a bag of supplies that he emptied atop the surface of the table. “Here,” he said, sorting the items scattered on the table. “I got you some underwear and vitamins. I asked the lady at the pharmacy, she said these are the ones you need.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“This,” Mariana gestured with her hands around her. “Why do you have me here? What do you plan on doing, Ricky?”

Ricardo sighed. “Your fucking thug lets you give him this much lip? ‘Cause from what I’ve heard, motherfucker is crazy. You’d think he’d fuck you quiet, or at least into submission,” he turned, searching for the bucket.

“You’ve no right to talk about Nevada that way,” she said between clenched teeth. “He’s ten times the man you could ever think of being.”

Ricky snickered, “Mariana, don’t test me.”

“Or, what? You’re gonna beat me up? Kill me? I’ll fucking take my chances! You’re nothing but a coward, Ricky!”

Mariana knew her words had been too much. She’d known as soon as he’d turned around and reached her in a couple of steps. He grabbed her hair in his hand, yanking her head back with force, and dug his fist into her belly. She felt the flutters of movement coming from her child and the whimper of fear won over the wince of pain.

“No,” she mewled, clawing at his forearm to stop. “Ricky, stop!”

In his eyes she could see his enjoyment when it came to inflicting pain on another being. Many a time she’d looked into his piercing stare wondering where it had all gone wrong, who had hurt him, and if that would be her future forever. This was a power move. He thrived on being on top, and when anyone threatened his made believe throne, he was like a fierce hyena protecting the trash he called his home.

He dug his fist deeper into the center of her belly and Mariana spat at his face, gaining in return his hand around her neck. She gasped, not foreseeing the hand he’d played.

“Do it,” she said between breaths. “Fucking do it,” she smiled, feeling the pressure of his hand against her windpipe. Ricky furrowed his brow, confused at her willingness, and he eased on the pressure behind his grip. “Coward,” she rasped.

“Bitch!” he shouted, tossing her onto the bed. Mariana’s hands came to wrap protectively around her midsection as she watched him pace the length of the small room, yanking at his hair. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is the thanks I get! You—You… why are you this way?” his voice was a plea of sorts and Mariana fought to catch her breath. “Why don’t you love me!”

Mariana looked at the broken boy at the foot of the bed, red at the face with bulging eyes and veins. She felt… sorry for him, but he still didn’t have her sympathy. Ricky wasn’t right in his head, and it would take more than a breakdown for her to forgive him.

“You—You’re wrong in the head, Ricky,” Mariana coughed, feeling her throat scratch with pain. “You need—need to let me go and—”

“No!” he shouted, launching himself forward, and landing a punch to Mariana’s pretty face.

She immediately felt her bowels churn and her brain rattle in her skull. It’d been a long time since he’d touched her like that, and growing used to someone not beating you rather quickly, she saw stars clouding her vision when another blow landed across her jaw. Her body fell back against the mattress, her hair covered her eyes, as she felt the darkness rapidly enveloping her.

“You’ll always be mine,” she heard faintly before she finally slipped into the safe confines of blackness.

Nevada sat on his couch, a frown on his face, an ache in his heart, and a diminishing handle of whiskey in his hands. Eighteen days without her, the greatest pain in his ass, the object of his every day distraction… the mother of his unborn child: the love of his life. Eighteen miserable days and eighteen agonizing nights where everything felt blurred. Blurred because he didn’t know when one thing started and another thing ended.

Had he eaten? Had he kept up with his hygiene? Was his business thriving? He couldn’t know.

For eighteen days he’d known that had it not been for his big ass mouth, she could’ve been here. If he’d just… shut up and listened to what she was saying, if he’d just seen the situation from her point of view instead of always trying to have the last word, this entire mess could’ve been avoided.

He sniffled loudly, distracting his brain from his eyes, bringing the handle to his mouth for a prolonged sip. He didn’t even wince at the sharp sting the whiskey had on his throat, he didn’t deserve the luxury of feelings knowing that his Chiquita was out there, fighting for her life, fighting to stay alive for their kid, just to have the opportunity to be able to return home almost unscathed.

“Tío,” he heard Sofía’s soft voice approaching the couch.

He’d dismissed his men for the continued search of her. Whatever it took, he’d have her back.

He scrambled around, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of his niece. He checked his wristwatch, noticing the time, “Sofi—Sofi, it’s late, mama. Go back to bed.”

Sofía climbed the couch, crawling towards her uncle, and once she reached his side, she knelt next to him. “Are you sad because of Mari?”

Nevada hung his head, hiding the shame of his tears from his niece. He sniffled once more, exchanging the handle from his right hand to his left, bringing his face to his inner elbow to wipe away his face, and wrapping his arm around Sofía’s small frame. How was he to explain what was happening to his soon-to-be seven year old niece.

His chin trembled as he faced the confused stare of the young girl in front of him. “Princesa,” she blinked, tilting her head in curiosity, and he cleared his throat. “I am sad because of Mari, but,” he added quickly, “I’m so happy that you’re here with me.”

“Well, Mami said I had to take care of you!” she said in a fit of laughter, dodging Nevada’s fingers against her side.

“She did?” Sofía nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. “What else did she say?”

Sofía’s smile faded and she lowered her head, “You said those are bad words…”

Nevada hummed. “Bueno, si las dices bajito, they’re not as bad,” he winked at the girl, attempting to coax out of her whatever words his sister had used in her presence.

“Mami said that this could’ve all been avoided had she not been a puta.”

Nevada chuckled softly, “Well, I can’t argue with your Mami on that one.”

Sofía looked… perplexed, not really understanding what her uncle had meant by his statement. Nevada shook his head and she took the opportunity to settle against his side, curling her legs close to his ribs.

Nevada brought the handle to his lips once again, looking out to the city, and letting his self feel the love that radiated out of the little body that was Sofía Isabella Ramirez.

As the handle depleted so did his eyelids and when he next woke, Sofía lain fully across his lap, bundled underneath his jaw as her gams wrapped around his back. He groaned, throwing his head back against the couch’s edge, fighting the spinning room.

He brought his wrist towards his face, squinting to better focus the hands of the watch face. They’d been there all evening and now he could see the sun attempting to creep through the bundle of clouds in the horizon. Nevada dropped a kiss to his niece’s messy head of hair, toeing off his shoes to lay the length of his couch when his thigh vibrated. He groaned, maneuvering around Sofía’s body. He slid out his phone, once more squinting at the blurry, jumpy letters across his screen.

The message would’ve been ignored had he recognized the number, or at least been part of an area code that belonged to any of the five boroughs that comprised the New York City area, but it didn’t. Nevada prided himself a great businessman and as any businessman, it was his job to know and study the market he was in. Any true and native Newyorker could tell you 212-, 718-, and 917- were the true New York City area codes, but the one displayed on his screen was 551-. Whoever this was, either had the wrong number, or was looking to start some trouble.

He had reason to ignore the message—he had more than one reason to ignore the message, the primary being: there was no business to attend to at this time of day knowing he’d set fire to too many bridges over the course of the last eighteen days. He’d been watching those slowly burn from afar and as he sat and watch the fires grow, he’d given thought to the ones he did want to salvage, but not right now and certainly not at this time.

As he contemplated whether or not to open the message from the unknown number, another one came in. He furrowed his brow, resting his cheek against Sofía’s head. He couldn’t read what the messages said; he had to unlock his phone before being able to do that, but two messages almost back to back from the same unknown number. Who else could it be?

He hesitated, pressing his thumb against the screen to unlock his phone.

Text Message: [551-908-5344] 06:21 a.m.

I have something you want…

Text Message: [551-908-5344] 06:23 a.m.

Wanna see?

His stomach clenched and his reaction almost made him drop Sofía onto the couch like a lifeless object he had no care for. Instead, he stood, gathering every raging force to carry Sofía to his bed. The girl would find more comfort knowing that at some point, her uncle had moved her to his room as opposed to hers, and even if a lie, she’d still think she’d had the opportunity of sleeping in his bed. As he exited his room, shutting the door behind him, he pressed the phone number, bringing his phone up to his ear.

It rung several times and when his patience was beginning to thin, he heard the cynical voice on the other side of the receiver, “Huh, I thought you weren’t intrigued enough…”

“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?”

The person on the other side snickered, “I already have what I want, Nevada. I was just letting you know that she is mine.”

Nevada clenched his jaw, feeling his lips go numb with anger. “Yours?” he snickered. “Tú lo que eres es un palomo.”

“Un palomo que tiene lo que quiere,” he retorted. “You should hear how she begs me—”

“Rick—Ricky, please,” Nevada heard Mariana’s faint, exhausted voice. “Plea—Please,” she sounded winded, tired, and her voice sounded like it needed a touch of water.

Ricky hummed as he chuckled. “What the fuck are you doing to her?” Nevada growled.

Ricky huffed, “Nothing, nothing, just… tuning her up. Since, since, you know, you’ve let all my good work go to waste!”

“Mira, pedazo de cabrón, you put your hands—” the sudden, yet audible smack that rang loud in his ear almost made him lose his balance.

Mariana grunted, groaning softly. Ricky sniffled, “I’m the one that has the upper hand here, Nevada. All right?”

Nevada clenched his jaw, attempting to reel his anger in order to try and get more information out of him. Ricky had already slipped up and allowed for pride to get the best of him when he messaged Nevada without blocking his number. Now, even though cocky, Nevada wouldn’t allow his self to believe that Ricky hadn’t taken some precautions when getting a cellphone, burners did sell out of every bodega he knew.

Now, he just needed to exercise his infamous gift of gab and keep him on the line long enough for him to figure out where exactly was he keeping his precious Chiquita.

“Look at you being a fast learner,” he mocked.

“What is it that you want?” Nevada said through clenched teeth. “Money? Name your fucking price, but you can’t have her.”

He heard Mariana hiss, as if Ricky had yanked her by her hair, “Here!”

“Vada—Vada.”

“Chiquita,” he responded quickly. “Mami, are you ok? Are—Are you eating?”

“Vada—Vada,” she swallowed, and it was almost as if he could her smile. “Yes, and keeping myself hydrated, too.”

“Mari—”

“Hush!” she swallowed once again. “I’m counting on you to—”

“You’re counting on him to what, Mari? To come rescue you? No! We are leaving here together!” Ricky yelled and Nevada could hear a faint echo as he yelled. “I didn’t call to make this a fucking family reunion.”

“Why exactly did you call, huh?” Nevada’s patience had been running on low and listening to Ricky slap around the mother of his child had completely ran that probe out. “If you didn’t call to ask for money, what did you call for? Because, to flaunt her off, that’s not very… manly of you, Ricky.”

Nevada could hear the ragged breathing coming through the ear piece and he hoped he hadn’t pushed Ricky too far to the point he’d do something stupid like put his hands on Mariana once again.

“I mean, ¿tú no eres el más machito?”

“I called—I called, because I wanted you to know that I won—”

“Did you really win, Ricky? You’re the one that’s going to end up raising my kid, not the other way around,” he smirked. “Yo te debería dar las gracias—”

“No! No! I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.”

Nevada huffed his laughter, “Is it not?”

Ricky pondered his next move. When he’d heard that Nevada was not to be messed with he understood who exactly he was going up against, and truth be told, he’d never would’ve accomplished this had he not found Dylan at that bar talking to the pretty bartender that had happened to mentioned his name.

He hadn’t been stupid enough to show his face near Manhattan any longer, Dylan had told him as much. The search for Mariana was very much ongoing and active, and now having been off the handle, he’d done something that would now put a complete and active target on his back. Now, Nevada knew that this hadn’t been done by any of the other powerful families in the city, but by him. And, if he hadn’t have met Dylan, getting to Mariana would’ve been impossible.

He needed an out, an easy escape to be able to leave the city with Mariana. If they needed to run for the rest of their lives, then run they shall, because Mariana would never leave his side again.

“I want money and I want your men out of my way,” he demanded, sniffling.

“You want money and for my men to back off,” Nevada repeated. “So, you want my money, my Chiquita, and for my men to… cover for you?” Nevada laughed heartily. “You better hope my Chiquita has dealt with you before I find you, because your faith will not be the same with me.”

“Nevada,” Ricky begun, feeling the cold air of fear sticking to his neck, “your own men don’t do as you say, what makes you think I will?”

“What—” Nevada glanced at his phone.

What had Ricky meant that his own men didn’t do as he said? Had this been an inside job?

“Motherfucker,” he sighed, all signs of sleep and rest out the window by this point.

Nevada had thought out many a scenario, had made up countless possibilities in his head as to whom would dare do this, but none of them had involved someone from under his command. It made perfect sense! Who else could have access to her whereabouts, his whereabouts, and all in all the perfect excuse to monitor both him and her than someone on his payroll?

The more he thought about it, the more he felt his anger increase within him. This could’ve been resolved sooner, had he gotten his head out of his ass for a second and actually put to use the mass between his ears to capacity.

No one really knew she wasn’t spending the night at Nevada’s, only the guys from the inner circle knew. Only a select few from the select few knew where Nina lived, and if in fact Dylan had gone to pick her up to not find her there, then there was only so many people he knew could be behind this.

He nodded as he paced, piecing together his every move like an avid chess player planning and predicting his opponents move beforehand.

This would not end well for whoever had dared cross Nevada Ramirez. This in fact would end up with more blood on his hands and another death in his conscience, but for her, he’d burn Hell just to get her back.

tags: @imjustreallynosy @bananas-pajamas @scarletsoldierrr @katierpblogg @angelicdestieldemon

#me #chapter 15 #chiquita #Nevada ramirez #nevada ramirez x reader #nevada x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #trouble in the heights #nevada is upset #overprotective #feelings #feels

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parjiljehavey · 4 years

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Lost Shadows Left Behind ii

Summary: Dante meddles, once again. Hopefully, the results are what Nero is after.

Read on AO3 for details notes at the end!

3rd of May, 1:43pm

One year, ten months and eighteen days after the events of Redgrave City

—————————————————————-

It had been some months since Vergil had divulged the name of the woman who had clearly ensnared his heart. Things had improved between Nero and Vergil; they were actually starting to bond, sometimes at Dante’s expense, but hey, Dante was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dante’s brother had gone off on his own for a hunt, heading over to Siberia after they'd gotten word that locals were claiming vampires were running around several villages.

Vergil went because Dante didn't speak Russian; he only knew Spanish, Latin, and Italian with a smattering of German; mostly because Dante had liked how foul language sounded in German. Vergil, on the other hand, was a damn polyglot.

Nero had called off and on, busy with the mobile branch and the kids he and Kyrie were raising. Last time Dante had talked to Vergil, the elder twin had actually gotten a letter from Nero with a post script calling him an asshole for forcing Nero to write an actual letter like it was the 19th century because Vergil didn’t have a cellphone.

Vergil, of course, went out and bought the cheapest cell phone he could find after receiving it. Dante had been wheezing for air over Vergil’s grumbling over technology and uncooperative locals. The phone number scribbled on a piece that Dante handed to Nero was met with a nose wrinkled with disgust after the kid had racked the balls for a game of pool. Nothing like a game of pool after pizza, in Dante's opinion.

"Dante, a three year old can write better than this."

"Hey! That's not anyway to thank your amazing uncle for writing down your old man's new phone number. Especially when said uncle is letting you drink his beer." Dante was grinning despite the reprimand. Nero took a drink from one of said beers, raising an eyebrow. "Don't text him by the way. Stick with phone calls; he's still figuring out how to play Tetris on the piece of crap he got. Wait until he gets a smart phone for texting." He broke the rack. A stripe went in. "Solids are yours."

"You mean like the one you broke by falling into a river?" The kid was leaning on his cue, watching as Dante lined up another shot.

"I was thrown into that river, you little punk. I didn't go out that day looking for a swim. If I wanted to go swimming, I would have packed my broad shorts." Dante could have cleared the table if he had wanted to; but this was bonding time with his nephew, so he intentionally messed up his shot.

Nero gave him a look that conveyed that he knew what Dante was doing as the kid set down his beer next to Dante's own to circle the table for a good shot. After pocketing one, Nero did the same thing Dante had and missed on purpose. They fell into a good silence; the crack of the cues hitting the balls as they took turns making their shoots.

“How’s the search for momma doin’?”

Nero grunted, clearing not happy. Oh, he knew that look. It struck Dante for not the first time that this was Vergil’s son and they made similar facial expressions. Dante sighed. “Alright kid, spill it. Tell Uncle Dante what’s buggin’ ya.”

Nero snorted, as he always did when Dante called himself ‘Uncle Dante’ in a conversation. Dante waited, taking his time with his next shot to give the kid some time to get his thoughts into order.

“There’s only two women that it could be. One died in ‘94 and the other disappeared a month or so after I was born. The problem is that the woman who died was a nun; the Spardan nuns took their vows of chastity seriously and very rarely left the convent’s tower. When they did, it was documented for what reason and when, right down to the time. None of the nuns left the tower around the time Vergil would have been in Fortuna.”

Dante leaned against the table, twirling the cue stick in his hand. The kid was pacing, not even paying attention that it was his turn now. “So that leaves the one who disappeared, right? Where’s the problem there?”

“The problem is that she didn’t disappear in Fortuna. There was a group that helped those who became disillusioned with Sanctus get to the mainland; to start over. The majority of that group was... eliminated. A surviving member recalls taking a woman to the mainland shortly after I was born.” Nero trailed off, scowling as his grip tightened around the cue. Dante could hear the wood beginning to creak.

“Nero.”

“What?”

“Wanna put the stick down before ya break it?” Nero looked at the stick and set it down on the table after a moment. When his nephew remained silent, Dante sighed. This kid was too much like his old man sometimes. “I take it the trail went cold after she hit the mainland?”

Nero sighed, moving to sit down heavily on the new couch Vergil had gotten for the office. The old one had kicked the bucket finally while Dante was taking a nap, making Vergil actually laugh. Nero eventually nodded, head in his hands. “The trail went cold when she arrived in Genoa. There’s literally nothing left to go on.”

The earlier anger that the kid had was gone and now he was just deflated. Dante really didn't know what to do or say; so he did what he did best. He created a distraction by knocking the beers from their perch on the table. Nero snorted despite himself; kid probably knew what Dante was trying to do but if the kid was laughing, Dante'd take it. Dante looked at the mess on the floor, sighing. He shrugged, “Wanna get us some new ones while I clean this up?”

“Actually wipe it up, Dante. Putting the rug over it doesn't count.”

“What if I roll Vergil's chair through it? The wheels getting gummed up will annoy him.”

“Dante!”

—————————————————————-

3rd of May, 3:32pm

—————————————————————-

Dante stared up at the ceiling above his desk, processing everything from the past few hours. Nero had volunteered to go pick up pizza, and Dante was sure that it was both for the kid to clear his head and to talk to Kyrie without Dante teasing him too much for it. Dante really didn’t want to make a habit of meddling in affairs that weren’t his (First giving Vergil a kick in the ass about Nero's mom and now this?), but this was for family right?

Family helped family when said family needed help. Dante picked up the phone and dialed one of the numbers that he pretty much knew by heart now.

“Hey Morrison! I want to know if you can dig up some information on somebody for me. You can have whatever you want.”

Got a name?

“Yeah, Lucrecia.”

Lucrecia? Dante heard the information broker repeat it several times under his breath and then heard a rustle of paper.

“From what I understand, she arrived on the mainland sometime in the nineties from Fortuna, ended up in Genoa. Trail went cold on our end of things there.”

Lucrecia Capello?

“Dunno. Never got her last name, if she had one. Why?”

I’m thinking that the Lucrecia you’re looking for is the same one I’ve got in mind. Remember that coalition that formed about ten years ago?

“Yeah? What about it?” Dante remembered it; some hunters pulled together to train up new hunters in a manner that meant less of them dying on their first couple of hunts as greenhorns and a more accessible list of jobs. Readily available backup and access to an arsenal of weapons were big enough bonuses that had a lot of human hunters signing up.

They had extended an offer for him to join when the coalition had first formed, one that still stood because he never responded one way or the other. Lady had actually considered joining up, but Dante couldn’t remember if anything came of that or not.

She’s part of it. One of their top ranged hunters, as it turns out.

“Ranged as in what? Bazooka?” Explosives were a popular choice amongst human hunters.

No, son. Sniper on the rooftops. She can shoot doublets .

Dante let out a low whistle. Doublets, as it was called amongst sharpshooters, was two shots hitting two targets in quick succession. Very impressive. “Where is she right now?”

Got that right here, son. ‘Bout a hundred miles up north of you last I heard; been there for a while actually. I believe she’s training a new hunter; took on a couple C rank jobs off my hands. Want her number?

“You mind?”

Nah. It’s for your nephew ain’t it?

“There’s nothing that gets past you is there Morrison?”

Afraid not.

—————————————————————-

4th of May, 7:38am

—————————————————————-

One year, ten months and nineteen days after the events of Redgrave City

For the second time in just as many days, Dante had given him a phone number. His uncle had handed him a piece of paper with a grin after Nero had come back with the pizza, stole a couple slices and went off on a hunt. All the hunter had said was, “Think this might be the woman you’re looking for, champ.” and out the door he went for a job. Nero looked at the number again, scrawled in Dante’s horrendous handwriting.

It had taken Nero hitting a This number has been disconnected message twice before he realized that Dante’s nines were written like fours. Seriously, the five year old Nero and Kyrie were raising could write better than this. Nero grumbled, leg twitching as he listened to the phone finally dial.

Password?

“Are you Lucrecia Capello?” Jeez, it was hard to talk. It felt like he was swallowing his tongue.

Depends on who’s asking. Do you have the password? The voice was melodic, with a dry wit.

“No. Listen, this isn’t about a hunt.” There was a snort on the other line. “Don’t hang up! My name is Nero. I-” He cleared his throat, “There’s no easy way to say this. I think I’m your son.”

...When were you born?

“September 19th, 1992.” The sound of a sharp inhale.

And where were you born?

“I’m sorry?”

Where were you born?

“Fortuna.”

The other line was silent for several long moments, and Nero would’ve thought the call had been disconnected if he wasn’t able to pick up the sound of choppy breathing and someone in the background asking if something was wrong. Nero jumped when he heard a door slam shut. He thought he could hear a racing heartbeat; he didn’t know if it was from the other line or his own. It was just now hitting him that he was more than likely speaking to his mother.

“Hello?”

What would be a good time and place to meet, Nero?

—————————————————————-

tagging: @queenmuzz and @starrymindgurl

#devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #vergil x nero's mom #vergil #Vergil Sparda #even though vergil is only mentioned #dante #Dante Sparda #nero #nero sparda #nero's mom #nero's mother #uncle dante #dante's trying to be a good if meddling uncle #we met momma next time~

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nettlestonenell · 4 years

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Armie Hammer wants a sequel to The Man From U.N.C.L.E.—shouldn’t you?

This post is a long time in coming, Gentle Readers and @jammeke, but now, though it might be here, before your very eyes, to think it will be well-laid out would be a mistake. It’s set to be just about as messy as Ilya’s misplaced loyalties and murky motivations.

How dare!

I probably first watched this film well over a year ago (courtesy @jammeke posting things about it). I used Sling OnDemand (I think on TNT). In the ensuing viewings I also watched it in that way, but as I was sitting down for a fourth(?) viewing, it kept coming to me that I was tired of watching it with commercials I couldn’t skip, and I had a sneaking suspicion that it had been edited for time and I was missing out on scenes. [pointless aside: I was also watching the film in chunks, and never as a whole]

Where is she now? What’s the time stamp? How far along did she get? Are you shagging the hotel hostess yet?

So, I, uh, set out to buy it on DVD—without any luck! In the sense that copies I could find cost more (w/ shipping) than buying it to stream. So, I bought it to stream on Amazon. Do I regret my choice, Gentle Readers? No, no I don’t. I do regret burden of knowledge in learning that TNT was already playing the entirety of the film. That was a hard pill to swallow.

Nope, I’ve looked. That’s absolutely everything. Nothing additional lurking around here...

So here it is, as it is, @jammeke, “My Notes on The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”

Look, I don’t know what this film is. I probably can’t fully articulate its appeal. Or maybe I can--certainly after transcribing four page I’ve tried. Number One thing to know about me and fiction/films is that a top draw for me is seeing something out of the ordinary, such as beautiful locations, a historical era, delicious costumes. There are times, frankly, this can trump weak story and undefined character for me. (The best films, of course, combine all three) Certainly, The Man... delivers in the delight of the eyes. Additionally, I must confess that growing up as a person older than @reblogginhood but younger than Miss Fisher, so much of what was on TV was essentially reruns of this film’s iconic Look(tm). So, when I see women dressed like Gaby I am just another three-to-seven-year-old overcome with the drop dead glamour of it all.

Darling, tell me how you really feel...

Some questions I have:

· IS Armie Hammer a hulk of a man? Everyone in this film seems to think so, yet he always tracks to me as trim (rather than hulking)

· Why translate via captions some Russian speaking, but not all?

· IS Napoleon’s backstory directly cribbed from USA’s White Collar?

· DOES Gaby have a German accent?

· Does Ilya get preternaturally attached to all the people he’s ordered to look after? Also, what is his bonding rate with kittens?

Sorry, wrong iteration.

· If Lady Villain knows the lens is wrong—if her technical understanding is that in-depth--does she really need Gaby’s dad to make the bomb?

· How old was Gaby during the war?

· What happens when Ilya gets a NEW puppy assigned to him? (please let this be addressed in film #2)

Hooray for:

· That bathroom fight! *all the Burn Notice feels!

· Gaby is her own lady, and chooses sides as necessary—not always unilateral in her support for either male character. Case in point: she sides with Ilya over the clothes, and Napoleon over the incident of the wallet.

· That delicious (speaking as Rusty, here) Ocean’s 11-stylized action. It’s pretty, so I’m not bored with it. Sometimes a sandwiched montage gets shown, so I’m REALLY not bored. I’ve got 18 tiny moving boxes of things to look at!

· Pinkie rings. There, you’ve told me everything I need to know about that character.

· Solo in a beret. English has not yet found a word for the feeling it evoked in this viewer. Somewhere between ‘precious’ and ‘oh, no’.

See, there? Now you’ve felt it too.

· Goggles! All the accessories! Dune Buggies! (I mean, that’s what I’m calling Napoleon’s chase-scene ride)

Things I adore:

· It seems (after some research) that more than a few folks view Gaby as a third wheel, and though she’s not exactly a Princess Leia commandeering her own rescue and exuding competence and a deserved take-charge-attitude at every corner, she IS a foci for both male characters (though romantically it would seem only for one), just as Ilya is a foci for both her and Napoleon [no one seems to worry about Napoleon, though they should--film #2, anyone?]

· Mechanic Gaby not needing a beauty makeover, or being dragged into one. She gets some nice clothes, but it’s never suggested that she’s not attractive or acceptable before putting them on, and I respect, nay, embrace it.

Oh, my heart. She’s still not as tall as them!

· Ilya, drab pigeon Ilya, knowing fashion

· Oh man, don’t even get me started on the power of the statement, “it doesn’t have to match”

· You knew it was coming on this sublist: the wrestle-fight. I mean, c’mon. Poor little Gaby, locked behind the Iron Curtain, living a life of always being watched. She’s in the swankest hotel (I mean, Napoleon chose it, so we can be sure it’s swank with an E). She’s trying to celebrate her freedom, her liberation. She’s playing verboten music, she’s drinking to excess. Girl wants—and deserves—a party. And Ilya is…not built for that (that he knows of). For some fun, just imagine if she had been given Napoleon to room with instead.

o I will say that this scene, and some of their other interactions have what I would call early (non-sibling) Luke and Leia energy. Ilya seems to have moments of being struck by Gaby in a way Luke is struck by Leia in the early part of the trilogy. When Leia takes charge, and Luke accepts it. When Leia does something incredible, and Luke is left open-mouthed. *no, I don’t see OT Star Wars in everything. Shut up.

· “He fixed the glitch.”

· Again, shout-out to the non-action action.

· “I left my jacket in there.”

· The whole race to rescue Gaby I am in love with beyond words. [I have noted it as “Crazy Jeep Drive with Warhead!”] Probably b/c it comes across as totally egalitarian. Both men want her rescued. They’re no longer in competition. It’s just as important to Napoleon as it is to Ilya to catch up to her. Also, it is bonkers, like some sort of X-games version of a commercial for the vehicles they’re driving. And screaming Willie Scott does not make an appearance.

Someone says “winkle” out.

· Look! Another note about the screen divisions and how I love it, shout-outs to the original Steve McQueen The Thomas Crown Affair (a contemporary of when this movie is meant to be set), and TV’s 24.

Things that get a great, big NOPE:

· Jerrod Harris: you’ve been in so much streamable content in the last decade I can’t hate you, but frankly, you’re terrible here—unless you’re supposed to be giving a mannered, not-campy-enough-to-be-enjoyable performance here. Your American English puts me in the mind of Alex Hawaii 5-0′Loughlin where it feels you’re concentrating so hard on your accent that you fail to convince anyone that you’re a harried, over-worked and exasperated spy handler. Your performance is at odds with every bit of dialogue you’re given to say.

· That awful, mishandled title that doesn’t even connect to the film until the final moments (a sequel set-up, for sure)

· Look, you don’t introduce Hugh Grant casually mid-way through your film in a throwaway appearance. I mean, he’s HUGH GRANT we all know something’s up now.

· This is not exactly a great big NOPE, b/c I love a flat cap, Tommy Shelby—but I feel like a less tall man with a far rounder face in a flat cap would track more as Russian to me that AH does. To me, he just looks like he’s about to go golfing.

Over par? Unacceptable!

· Is Victoria a British-accented Italian? A British woman who married—what? Gaby’s uncle isn’t Italian!? An Italian who went to school in Britain? My head hurts. Also, is her hair meant to be unconvincingly bleached?

Other commentary:

· Napoleon’s adult ne’er-do-well backstory is so far from being emotionally equivalent to Ilya’s childhood trauma [and his enslavement to the USSR] it seems bestial when he calls it out on multiple occasions. Badly done, Solo.

· Gaby is the film’s key (sorry, Buffy fans). Everyone is connected to her. Yes, she could have been given a bit more on the character front, but I don’t see her as as much of a flaw in the film as some others/reviewers seem to.

· Look, essentially (and not very nuanced-ly), Ilya is a stalker. I think the film goes a certain distance in establishing that his early behavior toward Gaby is not normal, but concurrently it does not truly call him out on it. He’s essentially viewed as an odd-duck, sure, but not a true threat to her (should she not reciprocate or tolerate his intensity toward her). I think I might be able to cite his behavior when Gaby comes on to him (that he doesn’t jump at a chance with her) that maybe he’s given a little more nuance than a straight-on stalker, and it helps that he and Napoleon never get into a pissing match over Gaby’s person, only over her new clothes. But overall the film has to walk a fine line (and the jury is still out on how successful it is, I’d say) between playing Ilya’s laser-like attention to Gaby for its humor, and calling it out for the unsettling, threatening behavior it is.

· Honestly, it wasn’t until I engaged the Closed Captioning that I understood Napoleon was calling Ilya the ‘Red Peril’. So, that was nearly three viewings in.

· I give the screen credits A+, on both ends. Not to mention the end credits are actually INTERESTING with lots to see and learn! (Certainly we learn more about HG in them than we do at any time during the film)

Things I would have liked:

· More of fish-out-of-the-Iron-Curtain Gaby moments

· A better dichotomy shown of East vs. West Berlin/Germany. There’s nothing easy either visually or otherwise to distinguish the two.

· HC being given a more specific American accent (from an actual locality). This, for an American viewer, works better than the flat, unlocated American accent many a British actor will bust out. *Mind you, HC does a generally good job, but he fails utterly on both “Immediate” which he pronounces at least twice as “immeedeejt” [rather than imm-E-deeot] and “Nazi” as “NAHT-zee” [rather than “NOT-zee”]. And let’s not get started on that late in the film use of ‘earnt’, a word that—well, it’s just not in the American English twentieth century lexicon.

· C’mon. You gotta tease the Hugh Grant more.

· Solo is a blank before the war. I’ve read thoughts on the film calling out Gaby as the blank character, but they’re wrong. Solo is the blank. He’s the ‘made’ man, his identity seemingly assembled during the war and after. For example, he doesn’t go into the war a thief, nor (it would seem) a particularly educated or urbane individual. Now THAT’s a juicy backstory I’d love to learn about, perhaps in film #2--or #3? What creates a Napoleon Solo? What would he be doing if he weren’t on the government’s leash/incarcerated? Is anyone left caring about him back wherever he calls home? I mean, who doesn’t love a gender-flipped 60s-era Holly Golightly backstory? [And yes, I would love there to be an ex-wife or even a current wife mixed up in his origins as well—Guy Ritchie, call me!]

Notes I have that I’m not sure if they still make sense to me:

· Only mom calls me Napoleon (do he say it ‘mum’?) Is he a secret Canadian?

· Solo’s torture, 1st view recall Napoleon’s childhood? *I think this means that after watching the first time I somehow erroneously believed that during the torture Napoleon’s childhood was a topic gone over. This was wrong. HOWEVER, this would have made far more story-sense than the backstory we’re given on an easily disposeable villain.

· “Even the average Russian agent. You’re special.” ?

· Uncle is Baddie (*so glad I made this note to myself)

· Ilya’s dad IS an embarrassment. I’m not sure what genius commentary I had in my mind, here. Perhaps that Ilya himself is embarrassed of him? Not just Ilya’s handler’s? [Also, aside: Napoleon totally slut-shames Ilya’s mom, which is the doublest of double standards from ‘I got myself the biggest and most ornate suite b/c I-wanted-plenty-of-space-for-my-random-seductions’ and I really wish Ilya had thrown that back in his face] *yes, of course I know that Ilya and Napoleon would not likely equate a wife/mother’s sexual exploits with that of Solo’s, but let’s be honest, this film tweaks the nose of (I won’t say reverses, it doesn’t go that far) plenty of tropes and gender expectations, and this certainly seems like a missed opportunity to call Solo on the carpet (which I hope film #2 does far more)

Things I wrote down so long ago I don’t recall what they mean:

· CC-save

In conclusion:

What does film #2 look like? What title does it get? Will the Peter/Neil White Collar dynamic continue to grow? *note that I have no confidence a second film will ever come to pass...

In the end, all I know is, “It didn't help when American Tom Cruise, who was slated to play U.S. spy Napoleon Solo, dropped out, prompting the casting of Cavill (who had previously read for the Russian role).“ I would not have watched that film.

#tmfu #tmfu 2015 #ilya kuryakin #napoleon solo #gaby teller #henry cavill #armie hammer #alicia vikander #the man from uncle 2015 #the man from u.n.c.l.e.#the man from uncle #i don't know what this film's tags are meant to be to keep it from popping up in the TV series searches Sorry

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