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caramelcleopatraa · 10 months ago

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S&T: DETAILED CHARACTER INTRODUCTION

ROMAN REIGNS ( a.k.a Tribal Chief )

Mafia boss (if you couldn’t tell)

Belongs to the Anoa’i family

Known for their reign in the east coast

In charge of the biggest mafia to date (popularity and numbers wise)

Cocky, clever, humorous, charismatic, affectionate (around close family and significant other)

A rumored “ladies man”

Known for his ruthless aggression towards enemy groups

Will go great lengths to protect the Anoa’i and Semele’s

Y/N SEMELE ( a.k.a Ms. Expert )

Belongs to the Semele family

Known for their tight alliance with the Anoa’i family

Sassy…. Saaassy gyal dat

The definition of dress to impress

Uses her shop as a medium to learn intel on other mafia groups

Has a passion for fashion design

Sensual, focused, playful, resourceful, reliable

Always keeping herself busy

JEY USO ( a.k.a Jey Fatu )

Consigliere

Belongs to the Anoa’i family

Twin to Jimmy Uso

Trustworthy, passionate and protective about his family

A classic hothead

Roman’s advisor, and voice of reason (because he needs it)

Prides himself on maintaining family tradition

Thinks that La Mesa Alta is shady

SOLO SIKOA ( a.k.a The Enforcer )

Capo

Belongs to the Anoa’i family

Fight first, ask questions later

Disciplined, fearless, enduring, tactful, respectful

Only appeals to his superiors, family members, and people he respects

Always on go

Keeps personal matters private

A trusted leader

TALIA JOHNSON FATU ( a.k.a Tallie )

Belongs to the Johnson & Anoa’i family

Wife of Jey Uso

Influencer

Nicknamed “Tallie” and “pretty girl”

Intuitive, loving, nurturing, honest, communicative

One of the only people who can calm Jey down

Used to stay out of mafia work, but will get her hands dirty if she has to

Has experience in undercover/mole work

JIMMY USO ( a.k.a Jimmy Fatu )

Underboss

Belongs to the Anoa’i family

Twin to Jey Uso

Second in command

The “Calmer” twin

Energetic, flexible, persistent, sympathetic, trusting

Anything Roman’s too busy to do, Jimmy’s already on it

Another voice of reason

TRINITY FATU ( a.k.a Naomi )

Belongs to the Anoa’i family

Wife of Jimmy Uso

Trained fighter

Sociable, witty, precise, charismatic, adaptable

Always styled In the latest fashion (with Y/N’s help)

Has experience in undercover/mole work

Didn’t know about anything mafia wise until she met Jimmy

Quickly gained the trust of Jimmy, Jey, and Roman

MADISON CLAIR ( a.k.a Mads )

Belongs to the Clair family

Kind, fair, creative, loyal, open

Invested in art

Trained gunwoman

Practices meditation

Been Y/N’s friend since high school

Helps Y/N with her company security

Always has a gun on her

DE’ARRA WASHINGTON ( a.k.a Diamond )

Belongs to the Washington family

Selfish, honest, perceptive, bold, determined

Her father was a well known thief in the west coast.

Settled down in the east coast and started his own mafia

Known for their extensive wealth

Always taking trips to other countries and blowing money on expensive collectibles

Very much spoiled

Good at persuading people to get in bed with her

AAHKILAH HOKOVIC ( a.k.a Killah )

Belongs to the Hokovic family

Known for international trade

Likes to be the center of attention

A certified spoiled girl

Wants to own her own clothing line and be one of the greatest brands ever

Makes people adjust to her time

Deceptive, glamorous, arrogant, daring, dynamic

Will always speak her mind

GIOVANNA PARISI ( a.k.a Gio )

Belongs to the Parisi family

Good at negotiating deals

Handles important business deals that involve La Mesa Alta

Persuasive, clever, persistent, curious, observant

Was a model for 7 years

Went to the same high school as Y/N

Sells tactical cars and guns (and weed on the side)

Helped Y/N get the location she wanted for her shop

MERCEDES HAYES ( a.k.a Cedes )

Belongs to the Hayes family

Known for their wealth, high status, and longevity

Works wherever money is present

Has been characterized as shady, two-faced, and greedy

Has turned her back on La Mesa Alta several times due to payment issues

Was a stripper, but retired to get a job with more earnings

A pure instigator

Older sister to Carmelo

CARMELO HAYES ( a.k.a Melo )

belongs to the Hayes family

A complete 180 from his older sister

Known for their wealth, high status, and longevity

Hard headed, confident, generous, playful, focused

Popular for his looks and athleticism

Mercedes’ full time assistant

Tries his best not to get involved with shady business

Carries out dangerous missions and tasks for La Mesa Alta

JATAVIA PETERSON ( a.k.a JT )

Belongs to the Peterson family

Her family was removed from La Mesa Alta after committing several heinous incidents to each family

Decietful, humorous, charming, friendly, independent

Used to own her own fashion design shop before Y/N came into the mix (and also blames Y/N for her down fall)

Tried to take down the Semele family many times

Known for her looks and charisma

No stranger to using bribes

Good at pushing her opponent’s mental buttons

ALYSSA EDMOND ( a.k.a Latto )

Rapper

Belongs to the Edmond family (worth $50 million)

World known gambler (and damn good at it)

Also gets fashion advice from y/n

Relatively new to the mafia business, but not new to rapping and gambling

Always down to fight

Funny, expressive, honest, openminded, flashy

Sometimes a materialistic girl

FAMILIES THAT ARE IN THE HIGH TABLE (LA MESA ALTA)

ANOA’I

SEMELE

HAYES

WASHINGTON

EDMOND

PARISI

Wanted to give you guys a better introduction to the cast of S&T! Hope you guys enjoy how the story's going so far :) Stay tuned <3

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41

Welcome to your new addiction

#carmenreigns #[ s & t ]#[ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧･ﾟ: * the bankk ✧･ﾟ:* ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ]#roman reigns imagine #roman reigns smut #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x chubby reader #roman reigns x y/n

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lawlessfm · 1 year ago

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wcs for a mads mikkelsen fc?

Some unofficial wanted connections by our beloved members would be: SALOMÉ ZAKARIAN’S private security position ( Bane + Talia vibe ), ROWAN ROCKWELL’S replicant handler connection, JACK HORNE’S co-worker and rival connection ( he’s a lawyer, so government role would be most likely ), OPAL FONTAINE’S father connection ( international arms dealer ), and SERAFINA KASPRAK’S father or uncle connection. As for roles, my suggestions would be the final owner role for the Borderline Hotel ( must be a retired assassin ), the consigliere role for the Burning Gods organization, the final leader role for the Executioners organization, the CIA director role, the boss role for the Hanging Man organization, an associate role for the Jade Tribe organization, a card shark role for the Old World casino, the overseer role for Red Eye, a defective assassin role for Red Eye, a replicant role for Stoneage Industries, or the final capo role for the White Crocodiles organization. I hope this helps, angel!

#APPLESS RP #OC RP #CRIME RP #ANSWERED.

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solosepensi · 1 year ago

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All’ombra de’ cipressi e dentro l’urne

confortate di pianto è forse il sonno

della morte men duro? Ove piú il Sole

per me alla terra non fecondi questa

bella d’erbe famiglia e d’animali,

e quando vaghe di lusinghe innanzi

a me non danzeran l’ore future,

né da te, dolce amico, udrò piú il verso

e la mesta armonia che lo governa,

né piú nel cor mi parlerà lo spirto

delle vergini Muse e dell’amore,

unico spirto a mia vita raminga,

qual fia ristoro a’ dí perduti un sasso

che distingua le mie dalle infinite

ossa che in terra e in mar semina morte?

Vero è ben, Pindemonte! Anche la Speme,

ultima Dea, fugge i sepolcri: e involve

tutte cose l’obblío nella sua notte;

e una forza operosa le affatica

di moto in moto; e l’uomo e le sue tombe

e l’estreme sembianze e le reliquie

della terra e del ciel traveste il tempo.

Ma perché pria del tempo a sé il mortale

invidierà l’illusïon che spento

pur lo sofferma al limitar di Dite?

Non vive ei forse anche sotterra, quando

gli sarà muta l’armonia del giorno,

se può destarla con soavi cure

nella mente de’ suoi? Celeste è questa

corrispondenza d’amorosi sensi,

celeste dote è negli umani; e spesso

per lei si vive con l’amico estinto

e l’estinto con noi, se pia la terra

che lo raccolse infante e lo nutriva,

nel suo grembo materno ultimo asilo

porgendo, sacre le reliquie renda

dall’insultar de’ nembi e dal profano

piede del vulgo, e serbi un sasso il nome,

e di fiori odorata arbore amica

le ceneri di molli ombre consoli.

Sol chi non lascia eredità d’affetti

poca gioia ha dell’urna; e se pur mira

dopo l’esequie, errar vede il suo spirto

fra ‘l compianto de’ templi acherontei,

o ricovrarsi sotto le grandi ale

del perdono d’lddio: ma la sua polve

lascia alle ortiche di deserta gleba

ove né donna innamorata preghi,

né passeggier solingo oda il sospiro

che dal tumulo a noi manda Natura.

Pur nuova legge impone oggi i sepolcri

fuor de’ guardi pietosi, e il nome a’ morti

contende. E senza tomba giace il tuo

sacerdote, o Talia, che a te cantando

nel suo povero tetto educò un lauro

con lungo amore, e t’appendea corone;

e tu gli ornavi del tuo riso i canti

che il lombardo pungean Sardanapalo,

cui solo è dolce il muggito de’ buoi

che dagli antri abdüani e dal Ticino

lo fan d’ozi beato e di vivande.

O bella Musa, ove sei tu? Non sento

spirar l’ambrosia, indizio del tuo nume,

fra queste piante ov’io siedo e sospiro

il mio tetto materno. E tu venivi

e sorridevi a lui sotto quel tiglio

ch’or con dimesse frondi va fremendo

perché non copre, o Dea, l’urna del vecchio

cui già di calma era cortese e d’ombre.

Forse tu fra plebei tumuli guardi

vagolando, ove dorma il sacro capo

del tuo Parini? A lui non ombre pose

tra le sue mura la città, lasciva

d’evirati cantori allettatrice,

non pietra, non parola; e forse l’ossa

col mozzo capo gl’insanguina il ladro

che lasciò sul patibolo i delitti.

Senti raspar fra le macerie e i bronchi

la derelitta cagna ramingando

su le fosse e famelica ululando;

e uscir del teschio, ove fuggia la luna,

l’úpupa, e svolazzar su per le croci

sparse per la funerëa campagna

e l’immonda accusar col luttüoso

singulto i rai di che son pie le stelle

alle obblïate sepolture. Indarno

sul tuo poeta, o Dea, preghi rugiade

dalla squallida notte. Ahi! su gli estinti

non sorge fiore, ove non sia d’umane

lodi onorato e d’amoroso pianto.

Dal dí che nozze e tribunali ed are

diero alle umane belve esser pietose

di se stesse e d’altrui, toglieano i vivi

all’etere maligno ed alle fere

i miserandi avanzi che Natura

con veci eterne a sensi altri destina.

Testimonianza a’ fasti eran le tombe,

ed are a’ figli; e uscían quindi i responsi

de’ domestici Lari, e fu temuto

su la polve degli avi il giuramento:

religïon che con diversi riti

le virtú patrie e la pietà congiunta

tradussero per lungo ordine d’anni.

Non sempre i sassi sepolcrali a’ templi

fean pavimento; né agl’incensi avvolto

de’ cadaveri il lezzo i supplicanti

contaminò; né le città fur meste

d’effigïati scheletri: le madri

balzan ne’ sonni esterrefatte, e tendono

nude le braccia su l’amato capo

del lor caro lattante onde nol desti

il gemer lungo di persona morta

chiedente la venal prece agli eredi

dal santuario. Ma cipressi e cedri

di puri effluvi i zefiri impregnando

perenne verde protendean su l’urne

per memoria perenne, e prezïosi

vasi accogliean le lagrime votive.

Rapían gli amici una favilla al Sole

a illuminar la sotterranea notte,

perché gli occhi dell’uom cercan morendo

il Sole; e tutti l’ultimo sospiro

mandano i petti alla fuggente luce.

Le fontane versando acque lustrali

amaranti educavano e vïole

su la funebre zolla; e chi sedea

a libar latte o a raccontar sue pene

ai cari estinti, una fragranza intorno

sentía qual d’aura de’ beati Elisi.

Pietosa insania che fa cari gli orti

de’ suburbani avelli alle britanne

vergini, dove le conduce amore

della perduta madre, ove clementi

pregaro i Geni del ritorno al prode

cne tronca fe’ la trïonfata nave

del maggior pino, e si scavò la bara.

Ma ove dorme il furor d’inclite gesta

e sien ministri al vivere civile

l’opulenza e il tremore, inutil pompa

e inaugurate immagini dell’Orco

sorgon cippi e marmorei monumenti.

Già il dotto e il ricco ed il patrizio vulgo,

decoro e mente al bello italo regno,

nelle adulate reggie ha sepoltura

già vivo, e i stemmi unica laude. A noi

morte apparecchi riposato albergo,

ove una volta la fortuna cessi

dalle vendette, e l’amistà raccolga

non di tesori eredità, ma caldi

sensi e di liberal carme l’esempio.

A egregie cose il forte animo accendono

l’urne de’ forti, o Pindemonte; e bella

e santa fanno al peregrin la terra

che le ricetta. Io quando il monumento

vidi ove posa il corpo di quel grande

che temprando lo scettro a’ regnatori

gli allòr ne sfronda, ed alle genti svela

di che lagrime grondi e di che sangue;

e l’arca di colui che nuovo Olimpo

alzò in Roma a’ Celesti; e di chi vide

sotto l’etereo padiglion rotarsi

piú mondi, e il Sole irradïarli immoto,

onde all’Anglo che tanta ala vi stese

sgombrò primo le vie del firmamento:

- Te beata, gridai, per le felici

aure pregne di vita, e pe’ lavacri

che da’ suoi gioghi a te versa Apennino!

Lieta dell’aer tuo veste la Luna

di luce limpidissima i tuoi colli

per vendemmia festanti, e le convalli

popolate di case e d’oliveti

mille di fiori al ciel mandano incensi:

e tu prima, Firenze, udivi il carme

che allegrò l’ira al Ghibellin fuggiasco,

e tu i cari parenti e l’idïoma

désti a quel dolce di Calliope labbro

che Amore in Grecia nudo e nudo in Roma

d’un velo candidissimo adornando,

rendea nel grembo a Venere Celeste;

ma piú beata che in un tempio accolte

serbi l’itale glorie, uniche forse

da che le mal vietate Alpi e l’alterna

onnipotenza delle umane sorti

armi e sostanze t’ invadeano ed are

e patria e, tranne la memoria, tutto.

Che ove speme di gloria agli animosi

intelletti rifulga ed all’Italia,

quindi trarrem gli auspici. E a questi marmi

venne spesso Vittorio ad ispirarsi.

Irato a’ patrii Numi, errava muto

ove Arno è piú deserto, i campi e il cielo

desïoso mirando; e poi che nullo

vivente aspetto gli molcea la cura,

qui posava l’austero; e avea sul volto

il pallor della morte e la speranza.

Con questi grandi abita eterno: e l’ossa

fremono amor di patria. Ah sí! da quella

religïosa pace un Nume parla:

e nutria contro a’ Persi in Maratona

ove Atene sacrò tombe a’ suoi prodi,

la virtú greca e l’ira. Il navigante

che veleggiò quel mar sotto l’Eubea,

vedea per l’ampia oscurità scintille

balenar d’elmi e di cozzanti brandi,

fumar le pire igneo vapor, corrusche

d’armi ferree vedea larve guerriere

cercar la pugna; e all’orror de’ notturni

silenzi si spandea lungo ne’ campi

di falangi un tumulto e un suon di tube

e un incalzar di cavalli accorrenti

scalpitanti su gli elmi a’ moribondi,

e pianto, ed inni, e delle Parche il canto.

Felice te che il regno ampio de’ venti,

Ippolito, a’ tuoi verdi anni correvi!

E se il piloto ti drizzò l’antenna

oltre l’isole egèe, d’antichi fatti

certo udisti suonar dell’Ellesponto

i liti, e la marea mugghiar portando

alle prode retèe l’armi d’Achille

sovra l’ossa d’Ajace: a’ generosi

giusta di glorie dispensiera è morte;

né senno astuto né favor di regi

all’Itaco le spoglie ardue serbava,

ché alla poppa raminga le ritolse

l’onda incitata dagl’inferni Dei.

E me che i tempi ed il desio d’onore

fan per diversa gente ir fuggitivo,

me ad evocar gli eroi chiamin le Muse

del mortale pensiero animatrici.

Siedon custodi de’ sepolcri, e quando

il tempo con sue fredde ale vi spazza

fin le rovine, le Pimplèe fan lieti

di lor canto i deserti, e l’armonia

vince di mille secoli il silenzio.

Ed oggi nella Troade inseminata

eterno splende a’ peregrini un loco,

eterno per la Ninfa a cui fu sposo

Giove, ed a Giove diè Dàrdano figlio,

onde fur Troia e Assàraco e i cinquanta

talami e il regno della giulia gente.

Però che quando Elettra udí la Parca

che lei dalle vitali aure del giorno

chiamava a’ cori dell’Eliso, a Giove

mandò il voto supremo: - E se, diceva,

a te fur care le mie chiome e il viso

e le dolci vigilie, e non mi assente

premio miglior la volontà de’ fati,

la morta amica almen guarda dal cielo

onde d’Elettra tua resti la fama. -

Cosí orando moriva. E ne gemea

l’Olimpio: e l’immortal capo accennando

piovea dai crini ambrosia su la Ninfa,

e fe’ sacro quel corpo e la sua tomba.

Ivi posò Erittonio, e dorme il giusto

cenere d’Ilo; ivi l’iliache donne

sciogliean le chiome, indarno ahi! deprecando

da’ lor mariti l’imminente fato;

ivi Cassandra, allor che il Nume in petto

le fea parlar di Troia il dí mortale,

venne; e all’ombre cantò carme amoroso,

e guidava i nepoti, e l’amoroso

apprendeva lamento a’ giovinetti.

E dicea sospirando: - Oh se mai d’Argo,

ove al Tidíde e di Läerte al figlio

pascerete i cavalli, a voi permetta

ritorno il cielo, invan la patria vostra

cercherete! Le mura, opra di Febo,

sotto le lor reliquie fumeranno.

Ma i Penati di Troia avranno stanza

in queste tombe; ché de’ Numi è dono

servar nelle miserie altero nome.

E voi, palme e cipressi che le nuore

piantan di Priamo, e crescerete ahi presto

di vedovili lagrime innaffiati,

proteggete i miei padri: e chi la scure

asterrà pio dalle devote frondi

men si dorrà di consanguinei lutti,

e santamente toccherà l’altare.

Proteggete i miei padri. Un dí vedrete

mendico un cieco errar sotto le vostre

antichissime ombre, e brancolando

penetrar negli avelli, e abbracciar l’urne,

e interrogarle. Gemeranno gli antri

secreti, e tutta narrerà la tomba

Ilio raso due volte e due risorto

splendidamente su le mute vie

per far piú bello l’ultimo trofeo

ai fatati Pelídi. Il sacro vate,

placando quelle afflitte alme col canto,

i prenci argivi eternerà per quante

abbraccia terre il gran padre Oceàno.

E tu onore di pianti, Ettore, avrai,

ove fia santo e lagrimato il sangue

per la patria versato, e finché il Sole

risplenderà su le sciagure umane.

I Sepolcri-Ugo Foscolo.

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nosferatummarzia-v · 2 months ago

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Nome: 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐥 𝐆𝐡𝐮𝐥

Pv: Eiza Gonzales/ Eva Green

Data creazione: 1971

Talia é la figlia di Ra's al Ghul, capo della Lega degli Assassini. Da giovane si innamora perdutamente di Bruce Wayne, durante il suo periodo di addestramento presso la Lega, però quest'ultimo non condivide i piani di Ra's per salvare il mondo e Gotham, questo porta Talia ad essere molto combattuta interiormente fra l'amore per Bruce, quindi il cuore e ciò che sa esser giusto, quindi la ragione e i piani di ripulire il mondo dal male della Lega degli Assassini. A Talia fu proposto di sposare 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐞, visto come possibile nuovo leader dell'ordine, ma lei rifiutó per via del suo amore per Batman, infatti proprio questo amore sarà cruciale e definitivo per io vigilante mascherato, in quanto lei in futuro avrà una bella sorpresa per lui...

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littleeyesofpallas · 6 months ago

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Okay im just gonna roll thru these issues, I guess like a liveblog, and ramble about this shit aa it comes, as i have given up trying to wrangle my adhd ass brain into actually forming cohesive thoughts...

For starters, cover art is fucking rad. Evan Cagle has just been consistently knocking these things out of the park every issue. Really sets the mood, maybe even sets expectations a little too high. On the inside though Rafael Albuquerque is no slouch. Really the aesthetics for this run has just been stellar all around. Even love the new title logo.

Anyway scene opens on an opera house, inside is a very on the nose production in which a grieving masked figure bent over the body of a collapsed woman is haunted by a bat-like demon. The dark haired boy(man?) demands to know where this unseen demon is as we got a shot of an empty seat, reserved for one Bruce Wayne. Theres a line about pearls around a neck, just in case we somehow werent picking up on the parallels.

The textography implies this is sung, and again pointing to this being an opera rather than just a spoke word stage play. The aesthetic is all very deliberately reminiscent of Phantom of the Opera. Also of passing note: the production is titled "L'Auriga" as in Italian for The Auriga, as in the constellation Auriga, "The Charioteer." He is depicted most often with a goat or kids in his arms, which given the cliche associations with satanism seem poignant here.

Elsewhere Batman beats up some gangsters doing generic crime at the docks, one of the Maroni capos is there and a sound over a loud speaker causes him to hulk out in grody dark magic fashion. Batman is a little off his game, Talia show up to finish the thing off, and she says Bruce isnt ready for the shit about to hit the fan, its older than either of them, its not human, and he's off his game... She elaborates no further and scoots off into the night.

Bruce tries to figure out why he's old and Dick pokes fun at him. He needs to see a man about a cube. (Oh the cube was being smuggled by the Maroni crew, which is where he got it and why its tied to the monster, I hadn't really made that clear... I'm not doing a very good job summarizing...)

Cool transition tho, we see the cubes source, the Orgham palace in "Svatrstal" which is as far as i can tell a meaningless assemblage of generic slavic sounds. The castle itself however is called "Coronis" after the mythic greek princess and lover of Apollo. (The more direct associations with the sun will come into play later. By proxy it might be that The Charioteer allusion could also be a reference to Apollo, via his chariot that drives the sun across the sky, making the subject of the play, Erichtonius, king of Athens.)

(Incidentally Coronis is also the name of a Spanish zarzuela by Sebastian Duron. It is about the nymph Coronas, Triton, Neptune, and Apollo, so there's that....)

But in any case we meet Arzen Orgham and his mother, in thematically appropriate sun-like headdress. She tasks her son with going to Gotham with a confusingly styled land deed(its a scroll, like with full on umbilicus, but it's apparently a legally viable document written in english?) We also get name drops of what will be his main goons, Shavhod, Neang, and Gael.

In spite of a lot of Greek mythology being flung around(Coronis, Auriga, the labyrinth) and implicit Italian to the opera themes, the core influence seems to be more Eastern European, and given the Dracula derived aesthetics it's not unexpected, but it all feels very weirdly. Also that this is apparently fully active nobility??? Like they're still rich and have modernized finances and resources (as opposed to like, an ancient dragons hoard of nonliquid but clearly "valuable" riches) so like do they govern this country????? This weird gap in information will become more of an issue with later developments...

Anyway... Gael has been the Orgham's vangaurd in Gotham, so while the young heir and his entourage are enroute, Gael slaughters the rest of the Maroni contacts he'd arranges the botched hand off of the magic cube with. He is noticeably more, uh, "ethnic"(?) looking than the other goons. Given the overall gist of the Orghams, that would seem to suggest something vaguely Mongolian adjacent? I mean, I guess it might be more obvious to assume he's meant to look Romani, but given the rest of the themes at play shouldn't they all be Romani anyway?

Anyway then Bruce has a cool nightmare about Barbatos and then wakes up to the sound of the mystery cube, which as it turns out is a music box, and the issue ends. Other than a few little oddities, I loved this issue and thought it was a great start to the story. Love the gothic horror vibe, the Dracula and Phantom of the Opera notes, the use of Barbatos, the idea of the Arkham lineage being traced back to the old country, the idea of addressing the future of Arkham Asylum(even though I could have sworn we'd already been given a different hook for that at some point...), the idea of Bruce dealing with his age it all makes for a really solid pitch. It'll get.... I don't want to say "worse" honestly, but some of those set ups will get shakier as this goes on....

#ah shit...#i started doing these little synopsis of #Detective Comics #back when the Gotham Nocturne story arc started #but then i never quite caught up #and so they languished in drafts forever #well it's been like a year and the goddamn story arc isn't over yet #so im definitely not going to catch back up now #so i might as well dump what i had #i dont even remember whats in these posts #and ill be real with you im not inclined to reread them now

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Scarface’s Tony Montana vs. Michael Corleone: Which Al Pacino is the Boss of Bosses

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Scarface hadn’t been made when Pete Townshend’s 1974 song “The Punk and the Godfather” came out, but The Godfather certainly had. The Who’s anthem was a musical allegory about the rock scene, but the lyrics might as well be interpreted as a conversation between Michael Corleone and Tony Montana. Possibly right before they rumble.

Al Pacino played both men in both movies, and in each film, he begins the story as a punk. But in The Godfather, at least, he grows into the establishment. Michael becomes don. Tony was a shooting star on the other hand, one on a collision course with an unyielding atmosphere. Both roles are smorgasbords of possibilities to an actor, especially one who chased Richard III to every imaginable outcome. Each are also master criminals. But which is more masterful?

The obvious answer would seem to be Michael Corleone because he turned a criminal empire into a multi-billion-dollar international business, and lived to a ripe old age to regret it. Cent’anni, Michael. Tony Montana doesn’t live to see the fruits of his labor, but his career in crime is littered with the successes of excess.

Montana is a hungry, young, loose cannon, just like real-life’s “Crazy” Joe Gallo, who went up against the Profaci family in the street fight which Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola used as inspiration on The Godfather. Gallo stand-in Virgil “The Turk” Sollozzo (Al Lettieri) did a lot of damage while he was trying to muscle in on Don Vito Corleone’s territory, selling white powder. Montana leaves a larger body count in the wake of his cocaine empire career.

Scarface is Pacino’s film. The whole movie is about Tony Montana and his meteoric rise through money, power and women. The Godfather is a mob movie, crowded with top rate talent in an ensemble case, but it belongs to Marlon Brando. While Michael inherits the position by The Godfather, Part II, he shares Godfather roles with Robert De Niro there, and people come away feeling a little sorry for Fredo. Michael isn’t the focus of an entire film until The Godfather, Part III, and by then folks were only distracted by his daughter. Tony Montana owns the screen from the moment it opens until his last splash in the fountain under the “World Is Yours” sign. The picture was his.

Making Your Bones on First Kills

Pacino brings little of the wisdom of his Godfather role to Scarface’s title character. This is by design. Every crime boss has to make his bones. In mafia organizations, real and cinematic, the button men on the street are called soldiers. And every soldier has to go through basic training before they’re ready to earn their button. Michael gets assassination training from his father’s most trusted capo, Pete Clemenza (Richard S. Castellano) before he goes out to enjoy the veal.

Scarface doesn’t give us many details of the crimes Tony was involved in while still in Cuba, so he makes his cinematic bones executing General Emilio Rebenga in the American detention camp for Cuban refugees. The two scenes are polar opposites in all ways but suspense.

When Michael is sitting at the dinner table with Sollozzo and Police Captain McCluskey (Sterling Hayden), he lets Sollozzo do all the talking, easing him into comfort before pulling the trigger. Tony barely lets Rebenga get a whimper in during his first onscreen hit, which plays closer to an execution. Tony covers the sounds of his own attack with a chant he himself begins. It is a brilliant overplay, especially when compared to another scene that resembles The Godfather, with Tony killing a mid-level gangster and a crooked cop towards the end of Scarface.

A major difference between the two roles is best summed up in a line Tony says in Scarface. He learned to speak English by watching James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart. Montana comes from the Cagney tradition of broad gangster characterizations. In The Godfather, Kay Adams (Diane Keaton) asks Michael if he’d prefer Ingrid Bergman. The young soldier has to think about it. This is because Pacino is miles removed here from Bogart, who played Bergman’s lover in Casablanca. Pacino’s two gangster icons approached their criminality differently, and Pacino gets to play in both yards.

Pacino remains on an even keel in the Godfather films, but gives a tour de force of violent expression in Scarface, which burns like white heat.

The Handling of Enemies and Vices

In Scarface, Pacino gets to be almost as over the top as he is in Dick Tracy. His accent would never make it past the modern culture board at The Simpsons, but he pulls it off in 1983 because he says so. Pacino bullies the audience into believing it. It’s that exact arrogance which makes us root for Tony Montana. We don’t want to be on his bad side. But the chilled reptilian stare of Michael Corleone is a visual representation of why Sicilians prefer their revenge served cold.

Michael is diabetic, and is usually seen drinking water in The Godfather films. Sure, he has an occasional glass or red wine, and possibly some Sambuca with his espresso, but Michael always keeps a clear head. Tony, not so much. He makes drunken scenes at his favorite nightclubs, and not only gets high on his own supply, but gets so nose deep in it he develops godlike delusions of superheroic grandeur.

Montana is impulsive, instinctive, and decisive. Tony kills his best friend Manny Ribera (Steven Bauer) immediately upon finding him with his little sister Gina (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio). Michael waits until his sister Connie (Talia Shire) is on a plane to Tahoe before he has her husband killed in a hit years in the planning. Later Michael hangs his head silently as the shotgun blast which kills his brother, Fredo (John Cazale), echoes in the distance.

Tony, meanwhile, continues yelling at Sosa’s right-hand man long after his brains are all over the automobile’s interior.

Clothes Make the Man

Tony is written to be charismatic. Even coked out of his mind, he’d be a better fit in Vegas with Fredo’s crowd than with wet blanket Michael in Tahoe. Tony sports white suits, satin shirts, and designer sunglasses. Michael accessorizes three-piece ensembles with an ascot. This isn’t to say Michael had any issues with getting somebody’s brains splattered all over his Ivy League suit.

Designed by Theadora Van Runkle, Michael preferred dupioni silk. That’s smart. The dark navy wool chalk-stripe suit Tony wears in his death scene was designed by Tommy Velasco and carries the class of a tuxedo. It was after 6pm. What do you think he is, a farmer?

“I’m the guy in the sky, flying high, flashing eyes. No surprise I told lies, I’m the punk from the gutter,” Roger Daltrey belts out on “The Punk and The Godfather.” This is exactly against the no-flash advice Frank Lopez (Robert Loggia) tries to impart on his young protégé in Scarface. Tony was raised not to take any advice other than his own. He also ignores his consigliere’s advice on several occasions. When Manny reminds Tony the pair of them were in a cage a year ago, the rebel gangster says he’s trying to forget that, he’s going after the boss’ girl.

“I come from the gutter,” Montana proudly contends. “I know that. I got no education but that’s okay. I know the street, and I’m making all the right connections.”

By contrast, Michael attended Dartmouth College and then dropped out to join the Marines after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Michael is both intelligent and well-connected, loosely modeled on Joseph Bonanno and Vito Genovese. He also accepts the wisdom of his father, who most closely resembled “The Prime Minister” of New York’s Five Families in the 1950s, mafia boss Frank Costello.

The Better Family Man

Pacino’s Don Michael Corleone has access to all his family’s connections, stretching back to the old world. He learns to expertly pull the strings of powerful men, like his father did, but as he grew, he bent. Michael is friends with senators, meets with the President of Cuba, has money in the Vatican, and confesses his sins to a Pope. Michael was insulated throughout his childhood and criminal career. If Tony gets in trouble, he has to get out of it himself, or with the help of a handful of low-level operatives.

Michael is the family rebel, risking his life and getting medals for strangers. He also gets to be both the prodigal son and the dutiful son. He gets the fatted calf and pays the piper. He even tips the baker’s helper for the effort. Michael comes back to both of his families, crime and birth, with a vengeance. He is there for his father the moment he is needed. Michael is the better family man. Tony’s mother is ashamed of him, and he completely ruins his sister’s wedding. Michael’s family means everything to him, and while he still manages to lose them, he actually maneuvers his two families well over rough waters for a very long run.

Tony Montana is the rebel’s rebel. Even before he tosses off his bandana at the dishwasher job to make a quick score, we knew. He was born bad, in the cinematically good way. This also makes Montana a natural at crime. In The Godfather, Michael has it in his blood as a Corleone, but has his heart set on college, a straight career, and a shot to bring his whole family into the American Dream, which for Montana only exists as a wet dream.

Tony never gets past the hormonal teenage phase of his love of America. He wants to love his new country to death. He is turned on by the dream. He wants to take it. Not earn it. No foreplay necessary, as he claims his latest victim’s wife as his own.

Managerial Skills

Michael is pretty good with his underlings, when he’s not having them garroted on the way to an airport or advising them to slit their wrists in a bath. He promises Clemenza he can have his own family once the Corleones relocate to Las Vegas. He lets Joe Zaza (Joe Mantegna) get away with murder as the guy he sets up to run his old territory in The Godfather, Part III. Michael doesn’t keep turncoats like his trusted caporegime Tessio (Abe Vigoda) around for old times’ sake, and he doesn’t suffer fools at all. It may seem he cuts Tom Hayden (Robert Duvall) loose a little fast, and without warning or due cause. But if he was a wartime consigliere, he would have seen it coming.

While Tony Montana may have a competitive and fast-tracked entry program for new workers (“hey, you got a job”), he’s also the guy who shoots his right-hand man Manny for marrying his sister. Tony exacts a brutal and dangerous revenge for the death of his friend Angel Fernandez in the Miami chainsaw massacre, but doesn’t lift a finger when his cohort Omar Suarez (F. Murray Abraham) is hanged to death from a helicopter by drug lord Alejandro Sosa (Paul Shenar). Michael does have a tendency to have his soldato kiss his ring, but he’s not entirely a .95 caliber pezzonovante.

Movies

Scarface: Where Tony Montana Went Wrong

By Tony Sokol

Movies

The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone Proves a Little Less is Infinitely More

By Tony Sokol

One of the most important skills a boss must exhibit is how to delegate, and Corleone is a minor Machiavellian master at his delegation. He whispers orders from behind closed doors. Tony is more hands-on. The only reason he tells Manny to “kill that piece of shit” Frank is because he’s already humiliated his former boss into a shell of a real man.

Montana is in the trenches with his soldiers and sets standards by example. He shoots a guy on a crowded Miami street in broad daylight. Montana is a born triggerman and only reluctantly delegates the duty. He has 10 bodyguards when Sosa men raid his mansion fortress. He takes the invading force with one little friend, an M16A1 rifle with a customized grenade launcher. But it sure doesn’t help the employees getting murdered outside.

A Handle on Finances

We don’t know what kinds of criminal activities the Corleone family were involved in between 1958 and 1979. Still, Michael had proven himself a traditionalist and a bit of a prude, so he spends most of his career shaving his take from harmless vices and avoiding drugs, which he sees as a dirty business. But through whatever means, by The Godfather, Part III, Michael has earned enough capital to buy himself out of crime.

Michael gambles successfully on Wall Street, keeps the Genco olive oil company going, and invests in hotels, casinos, and movie studios. He’s got to be pulling in a billion dollars a year in legitimate business. He makes enough to pad the coffers of the Vatican, and his share of Immobiliare stocks pulls in another $1 billion.

Tony looks like he’s earning about $15 million a month. But it doesn’t look like he puts much stock in his future. He makes no investments, only purchases. His only visible holding is the salon his sister works in. But we also have to take into account that he built his empire from scratch. Michael inherited his. And while the head of the Corleone family can blackmail a U.S. senator with a tragic sex scandal, Montana fares no better than Al Capone with tax evasion.

Who Would Win in a Mob War?

Scarface is as violent as the 1932 Howard Hawk original. Blood is a big expense, and 42 people are killed in the 1985 film. It came out amid other over-the-top action blockbusters like First Blood and the contemporary reality of the South American drug trade. So, it would seem, the film has far more violence. But they are easily matched.

The Godfather has a horse’s head, Scarface has a chainsaw. Michael’s brother Sonny (James Caan) gets machine gunned to smithereens at the toll booth, Tony blows the lower limbs off his would-be assassins at a nightclub. Omar is lynched in a chopper, the upper echelon of the mob is taken out by helicopter fire in The Godfather, Part III. Tony and Michael each get to kill a cop.

Both mob figures survive assassination attempts. Michael loses his wife Apollonia in Sicily in a car bombing meant for him. He also avoids the trap Tessio sets at the meeting with Emilio Barzini (Richard Conte), on his turf, where Michael “will be safe.” Tony lives through his initial professionally ordered hit, as well as being saved by Manny from certain death by chainsaw.

While Michael Corleone is able to take care of Barzini, Victor Stracci, Carmine Cuneo, and Phillip Tattaglia – the leadership of the five families – at the end of The Godfather, Tony Montana can only put up a good fight. The Corleone family would win in a protracted war against Montana’s cartel, but there is a possibility Tony would have outlived Michael while the battles raged. Expert swordsmen aren’t afraid to duel the best in the field, but they’re scared of the worst.

As far as crime tactics and strategic villainy, Michael Corleone plays a game of chess. Tony Montana plays hopscotch. He wins by skipping cracks in the street, but he only rises as far as the pavement.

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outlawintheredhood · 5 years ago

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Jason grunted at the impact of the punch - not enough to hurt, considering the kevlar between him and the fist impacting his side - but it was enough to knock him off balance slightly, the gun in his grip slipping from his hand and clattering down onto the rooftop. “Oh, no you don’t.” He growled as he saw his assailant immediately diving for the weapon, moving to grapple with him before he could try and pick it up. Usually he wouldn’t get so sloppy, but he had been running ragged recently - frustrated at Talia’s orders - and the Falcone capo who he was currently wrestling with was far better trained than the usual fair in Central City. It almost reminded him of his bloodier days in Gotham.

Son of a bitch. He cursed mentally as the man sent a fist to his helmet, letting out a clear cry of pain as he likely broke a few knuckles on it, but kept trying anyway to pry it off Jason’s head, punching at his sides to try and keep him down.

He shoved the man roughly off of him to stop him, inadvertently rolling him closer to the gun - an opportunity the man took up immediately as he scrambled the last few inches towards it and hastily picked it up to fire straight at Jason.

@girlofxsteel

#girlofxsteel #character: kara danvers

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convenientalias · 6 years ago

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Anyways summer’s basically over, so as regards my TBR, I’ll give y’all an update none of you wanted:

I read all but one book (Prince and Pirate by Elliot Cooper) and the best ones from the list were

With This Ring by Hildred Billings (f/f romance, arranged marriage, fashion designers, drama)**

Ice Massacre by Tiana Warner (YA fantasy with a side of f/f romance, twelve girls one small boat and a sea full of killer mermaids)

Beauty and Cruelty by Meredith Katz (YA fantasy romance, an evil fairy gets with a sleeping beauty archetype, featuring the Power of Belief)

The Henchmen of Zenda by KJ Charles (m/m romance, retelling of The Prisoner of Zenda, not surprising I liked it)**

Against the Dark by Carolyn Crane (m/f romance with a spy and a thief and... yeah that’s basically it. jewels.)

The Princess Trap by Talia Hibbert (m/f romance, fake relationship with an actual princess, interracial relationship, also Hibbert is literally the best???)**

The Bonding Ritual by Spencer Baum (YA fantasy with lots of vampires and political intrigue, last book in a series, idek why I liked this series so much but I did)

**I can loan these books on Kindle if anyone’s interested. Although for the record I wouldn’t read The Henchmen of Zenda if you haven’t read The Prisoner of Zenda by Anthony Hope or watched a movie adaptation.

But also. A lot of the best books I read this summer were unplanned. My unplanned faves were

The World to Come and Eternal Life by Dara Horn, my new favorite Jewish literary fiction author (with a touch or more of magical realism)

Kushiel’s Dart by Jacqueline Carey--ok I kind of planned to read this one but yes, my rare epic fantasy read was worth it.

Daughter of Mystery by Heather Rose Jones--Alpennia series is looking good.

and

Make Your Home Among Strangers by Jennine Capo Crucet (book about a college student who is the daughter of Cuban immigrants in 1999 during an immigration crisis)

anyways. yep, good books. also i read a lot of other books but talking about those would take all day so. convenientalias out.

#reading #books

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dylan-hague · 8 years ago

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Chapter 30

Kahn Memorial Hospital, Blüdhaven. April 3rd, 2018. 10:43 PM.

Bruce knew that a few of the people had expressed interest in being there for Dick and Barbara when Tommy was born, but he hadn’t expected so many. As he looked around the maternity ward, he was able to pick out every current member of the Teen Titans, most of the original members, and the full Justice League, and several members of the Justice Society. That was just to name a few. He sipped at his coffee, and turned back to the elevator to see Clark, Lois and Diana walking toward him. He nodded with a smile; he was glad Clark was here for such a big moment in Dick’s life. Clark and Dick always had a close relationship.

“Man, what a turnout!” the Kryptonian said with a grin. “Looks like someone’s gonna be spoiled growing up, huh?”

Bruce chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I was hoping it wouldn’t be so crowded, but it looks like somehow everyone managed to drop in. I don’t even know how this place is big enough to hold everyone.”

“Guess Blüdhaven must have a lot of expectant mothers,” Lois said nonchalantly as she glanced a bit down the hall and let out a laugh. “Looks like there’s even enough room for ballroom practice!” The four of them turned to look, and smiled as they saw Damian and Raven giggling and fumbling about in the hallway as he tried to teach her to dance, with Jon grinning boyishly as he strummed on his guitar in the seat next to them.

“When did Jon start playing the guitar…?” Clark turned to his wife, who shrugged.

“Must have happened in Cali,” Lois replied. “I didn’t even know he had one!”

“Damian probably got it for him. They’ve been getting close.” Bruce took another sip at his coffee, and Diana smiled.

“That’s good,” the Amazon added, watching as the half-demon tripped up again, falling into Damian’s arms. “The better their personal relationships get, the better they’ll work together on the field of battle.”

“I agree.” The four turned as Talia came up from behind Bruce. “They have much to learn from one another, and from what I’ve gathered, they’ve already learned so much in the past two years together.”

“Oh, hey! You’re, umm…” Clark snapped his fingers trying to remember the woman’s name. “… Talia, right? Damian’s mother?”

Talia nodded with a subtle smile. “I take it you’re the one they call ‘Superman’, yes? The one from Metropolis?”

Superman’s eyes went wide as he looked around the room. “I-I, uhh, what? I dunno what you’re talking about…”

Bruce put a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “Relax, Clark. Everyone here is in the loop. Including the doctor in there with Dick and Barbara now. Her name is Leslie Thompkins, she’s an old friend of mine.”

Clark rubbed the back nervously. “Okay, well… yeah, that’s me.”

Diana peered skeptically at Talia. “Talia… as in Talia al Ghul? Aren’t you a member of…”

“I was,” the young woman replied. “After the death of my father Ra’s, I assumed his role as Grandmaster of the League of Assassins. But as time went on, and after one particular ordeal in Gotham a few years after Damian became Robin, I realized that my grandfather was wrong about mankind… so now the League is no more.”

“Oh? Well…” Wonder Woman threw up her eyebrows in surprise. “I believe you’ve made the right decision. You can do more good for the world as one of us.” Talia smiled back, and the five of them continued on for awhile.

Damian snickered as he took Raven’s weight in his arms again, catching the poor girl as she slipped once more. He planted a peck on her cheek as she slapped playfully at his chest. Everything is the way it needs to be, he thought to himself. His cities were both enjoying a rare period of peace, his mother had come back into his life, and he had Raven in his arms, his ring on her finger. Right now, in this moment, he almost felt… normal.

“Dang it Damian, I can’t figure this out!” Raven laughed, resting her head on Damian’s shoulder as they wrapped each other up in an embrace. “How is it that I can ice-skate just fine, but I can’t dance like a normal person?”

“Normal person? Raven, normal people don’t know how to dance like this,” Damian laughed as he pressed his cheek against hers with a grin. “Have you been to a wedding before? Most people’s first dances are just rocking back and forth in a circle, no fancy twirls or lifts or anything!”

“Maybe we should try something a little slower,” Raven sighed, leaning back to look into Damian’s eyes with a smile. “Think that might help?” Damian nodded and turned to Jon, who grinned back.

“You’re prob'ly right, Rae. Sixpence is a little fast for someone who’s new to this whole dancin’ thing, so maybe after a little practice.” The hybrid boy slid his capo down a few frets on the neck of his guitar. “But I just figured out this Lauper bit that’d be perfect for you two! Nice 'n' slow so ya don’t trip over your own feet, and I think the words fit y'all's relationship pretty well.”

Damian stifled a laugh, smirking over Raven’s shoulder at the younger boy. “Y'know Jon, it’s easy to forget how much of a bumpkin you are… but then you go and talk like THAT, and it just hits you like 'oh yeah, he grew up on a farm.'” Jonathan stuck his tongue out with a wink and started to pick out a slower melody.

“Actually, I been meanin’ to ask you somethin’, too,” Jon started, talking over his guitar. “How come you two got engaged already? I mean yeah, it’s been a whole year since you got together and all, and that’s awesome, but you’re not that much older than me. And I mean, I’m just startin’ high school…”

“Yeah, we’re really young,” Raven sighed as she and Damian slowly turned in time with the music. “But it’s all about circumstance. Damian and I have both been through a lot more than most people our age, so we think we’ve grown a little more than must people do by the time they turn 16… here, spin me.” The girl twirled out along her and Damian’s arms, her long dark hair swirling all around as she spun, and again as she whirled back into his arms.

“Yeah… Plus, I was about to bleed to death,” Damian wrapped an arm around Raven’s waist from behind as he pulled her back in, swaying back and forth as they continued turning to the sounds of the guitar. “Whether I lived long enough to marry her or not, I wanted Raven to have my grandmother’s ring. But since I ended up coming back, we decided to stick with our decision and get married… albeit pretty far in the future.”

“Five years… I wish we didn’t have to, but why not? They’re not wrong, we really are still pretty young.” Raven went on, turning in Damian’s arms to face him, resting one hand on his chest as the other stayed rested in his free hand. “Still, gives us plenty of time to get things ready. Planning things out so long in advance is a good way to make sure everything is perfect.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t object if you wanted to run off in the morning and elope…” Damian joked with a wink. “But it’d have to be in the morning. Can’t go anywhere tonight, tonight is all about the baby.”

“Right,” Raven said smirking. “Baby first, then we’ll run off into the sunrise together.”

“Hey, hey! Hold the phone, you two!” Jon snipped playfully, still picking along. “You can’t just elope like that, you’ve gotta have a big legit wedding. Y'know, so I can actually be there for it!”

“That actually reminds me…” Damian glanced over to the alien in the chair. “Jon, you wanna be my Best Man?”

“Whaaaat?” Superboy beamed back at Red X excitedly. “Heck yeah, man! You bet!” The three laughed for a moment, and Raven looked contently into Damian’s icy blues before stealing a kiss.

“Y'all stop it,” Jon said with a grin. “Nobody should be that cute.”

A few seconds later, a quiet ding came from the nearby elevator, whose doors then slid open. Out stepped Jason Todd, Roy Harper, and (to everyone’s surprise) Dr. Harleen Quinzel, who held a little girl with blonde pigtails on her hip. All three of them had their hands full of gift bags (except, of course, for Harley, who only had gifts in one hand, as the other was occupied by the child), several of which were accompanied by all different kinds of balloons.

“Hey!” Jason called out to Damian as he walked briskly towards them. “We’re not late, are we? Did she already have the baby?”

“Believe it or not, no!” Damian replied as he and Raven came to a halt. “She’s been trying all morning, but apparently she’s just not dilated enough. They took her back awhile ago to go over some things before she has her C-section.”

“That kinda sucks…” Roy muttered as he walked up behind Jason. “But at least we didn’t miss it. The four of us were makin’ a last-minute gift-run after we picked up Harley and the kid. Y'know, clothes and diapers and stuff… plus we stopped for McDonald’s.”

“Gross,” Damian said with a smirk. “That stuff’ll clog your arteries, y'know.”

“Hey, I useta live on the street. I can eat anything.” Jason grinned back at his little brother.

Raven beamed sweetly as Harley passed the little one into her hands. “Oh my goodness! Hi there, sweetie!” She cooed, looking into the girl’s emerald eyes. “Can you tell me your name?”

“I’m Lucy…” the child mumbled, her little fingers gripping at Raven’s blue cardigan. “Lucy Kinn… Kinnuh… umm…”

“Say 'Luuucy Quinn-zell', baby!” Harley leaned in and dotted the girl’s face in kisses. Lucy giggled, putting a hand on her mother’s cheek.

“Luuucy Kinn-Zell!” The little one echoed as best she could.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Miss Lucy! My name’s Raven!” the mage-girl replied, gently bouncing the little one up and down on her hip. “Can you tell me how old you are?”

Lucy held up three fingers on her left hand for Raven to see. “This many!”

As Raven continued talking to the little girl in her arms, Kori leaned up against the wall in the waiting room, her eyes on the floor. Despite how excited she was that the baby was about to arrive, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit down lately. She wasn’t sure why it was coming to her now, but she just couldn’t seem to shake the pit in her stomach…

“Hey, Star…” Kori lifted her head to see Jason walk into the room, setting his numerous bags down by the door. “You, uhh… you feelin’ alright?”

“Oh… hey, Jason. I’m alright, just…” Kori looked back down for a moment before raising her eyes to him again. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“… Is it about Dick?” Jason kept looking back at the Tamaranean, a look of concern on his face which Kori noted was… surprising, coming from him.

“I…” Kori looked to the floor again. “… yes… I know, it’s awful, but… that’s just how my kind are. The love of a Tamaranean is eternal.”

“Yeah…” Jason took a step forward shrugging. “Honestly, I kinda get where you’re coming from. It hurts seeing somebody you trust so much with someone else… I mean, that’s how I felt when I found out about Tim.”

Kori paused for a moment, glancing back at Todd from the corner of her eyes. “What do you mean…?”

Jason sighed. “Well, you know how it went… I used to be Robin. I got killed by Joker. Bruce took Tim in, made him Robin… I came back to find someone had taken my place.” He leaned up against the wall beside Star, his hands in his pockets. “It hurt, y'know? Seeing Bruce move on like that… I thought…”

“You thought it meant he didn’t love you anymore…” Kori murmured. “You felt expendable.” Jason nodded.

“But that’s just it…” he continued. “Even though Bruce found another Robin, that didn’t mean Tim was replacing me. That connection between him and me… I didn’t see it before, but it was still there. Even if I wasn’t Robin anymore, he still wanted me to be part of the family… I just didn’t realize it then. But in time, I started to understand.”

“… I know, Dick and I will always… I just…”

“Hey, I get it. Believe me, I do… But give it a little more time. It gets better.” Jason gave Kori a soft smile. “It might not ever go away completely. But it gets better.”

A moment of silence passed between them before Kori turned to the Red Hood with a smile, wrapping her arms around him. “Thank you, Jason. I needed to hear that.”

“You’ll be alright, Kori. Promise.” Jason’s smile grew just a bit as he hugged her back. “You can talk to me if you need anything.”

As the two of them walked back out into the main hall, everyone gathered in front of the doorway. Evidently, Dr. Thompkins had just informed Bruce that the C-section was underway, and that the baby would be arriving shortly. Jason came up to Bruce’s side, and placed a firm hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“So how’s this s'poseta go, exactly?” Jason asked. “What should we expect when those doors open back up?”

“I wouldn’t get too excited…” Bruce replied under his breath. “If anyone comes through those doors, it’ll probably just be Leslie letting us know how it went.”

“Still,” Damian called back at his father from closer to the door, “at least we’ll know what happened. I’d rather have that than not knowing until we all pile up against the Nursery window…”

Raven looked over at the boy and squeezed his hand. He looked back, seeing the faintest hints of a smile on her lips, and he couldn’t help but blush… just a tad.

“You feel nervous,” the girl’s voice spoke softly in Damian’s mind as she took she let go of his hand, running her fingertips up his arm and along his back.

“Oh, do I?” Damian raised eyebrow as he let his thoughts flow into her mind. “I’m surprised you don’t. He’s just as much your nephew as he is mine.”

“Oh! So is this about first impressions, then?” she thought with a wink. “Relax, he’s gonna love you. We all do.”

Damian’s eyes softened as he looked back into her eyes, and the two shared a brief kiss just as the doors began to open. They pulled back, and looked everyone waited with baited breath for Dr. Thompkins to come out and tell them how the surgery went.

Instead, they were treated to the sight of Dick Grayson, still in his scrubs and hair net, holding a little blue blanket squirming in his arms as he walked shakily down the hall.

After a collective gasp, everyone rushed forward to surround him. Damian peeked into the blanket to see the tiniest fingers resting on the face of the newborn baby, who looked up at him with electric blue eyes, still brimming with water. His father’s eyes, Damian thought.

“Guys…” Dick’s voice trembled as his eyes filled with joyous tears. “He’s perfect.”

As Dick carried his son slowly through the crowd into the Nursery, Damian turned to find his father standing beside him, one hand over his face. The young man gazed up with some strange sense of awe as he watched the tears roll down Bruce’s cheeks.

Damian smiled. In this moment, he thought, everything is the way it needs to be.

March 4th, 2018. 2:43 AM.

It was late… far later than Damian had planned to stay. His father, along with everyone else, had long since left the hospital; Bruce and Carrie to go on patrol (“Crime won’t care that I have a grandson,” the man said), the Titans went with them to help, Talia and Alfred went back to the Manor, and everyone else went back to their own cities. Now, all that remained were himself, Dick and Barbara (both of whom were fast asleep), Raven, and Tommy. He looked down at the newborn in his arms, reaching up at him with the littlest of hands. He smiled, placing his finger into the baby’s palm, and his smile grew as the tiny Grayson’s fingers closed around his fingertip. He looked down into Tommy’s blue, blue eyes…

“Hmm… funny. Baby blues on a baby.”

Damian smiled as a pale hand come down over his shoulder, her fingertips gently pulling the little white blanket with the yellow stripes over Tommy’s chest. The Titan looked back to see Raven smiling down at the child.

“Yeah… how about that?” Damian thought back. The two of them looked down at Tommy, who looked back up between them with his eyes full of wonder.

“We should give him a nickname…” the mage thought. “Just for him and us. What do you think?”

“I already know exactly what we’ll call him. What everyone will call him…” Damian carefully lifted the infant up, and pressed his lips to his little face. “Robin.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little young?” Raven teased, blushing as the newborn put his hands on Damian’s face.

“Maybe… but someday.” Damian lowered the baby back into the cradle his arms. “… And then one day, he’ll grow up. And there’ll be another Robin… our Robin.”

Raven’s cheeks grew warmer as the words entered her head. Damian looked back, and their lips came together more. Smoke and rain mingled together again, and the room filled with a violet haze. Tommy let out the quietest hum, watching curiously as little lights twinkled all around the amethyst-covered hospital room.

In the span of 28 days, Damian had been kidnapped, lost the love of his life, been stabbed through the heart, and died. But he also rediscovered who he was at his heart, reunited with his mother, given his grandmother’s ring to his Raven, and now held a pure, perfect new life in his arms.

Everything was the way it needed to be.

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callofdutydaily-blog1 · 6 years ago

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Empire of crime

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colospaola · 7 years ago

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Scrittore, giornalista e umorista dal cuore grande come la sua Bassa, Giovannino Guareschi per tutta la vita inseguì il sogno di un mondo, dove i comunisti e i cattolici potessero essere non solo grandi amici, ma anche alleati contro le delusioni piccole e grandi della vita.

Una poetica che, partendo dai primi racconti degli anni Venti, ambientati nella sua Parma, raggiunse il suo apice nel Mondo Piccolo, reso immortale dai film con Fernandel e Gino Cervi, dove il pretino dalla lingua lunga Don Camillo e il grosso sindaco comunista e partigiano Giuseppe “Peppone” Bottazzi, sempre pronti a litigare per motivi anche insignificanti, alla fine riescono sempre a trovare un punto d’incontro su tutto.

Non molti, però, sanno che a parte la notissima Favola di Natale scritta nel 1944, quando era prigioniero in un campo di concentramento tedesco, Guareschi ebbe sempre nei suoi scritti una profonda simpatia per il Natale, che considerava il momento dove si rivela la vera natura di ogni uomo.

E i personaggi del Mondo Piccolo, come Peppone, nel periodo del Natale sono costretti a vedere chi sono e che cosa vogliono veramente.

Il primo cenno al Natale, nei racconti di Guareschi, è in Giallo e rosa che chiude la prima antologia di Don Camillo, in cui, messo di fronte al Bambinello rosa Peppone trova la forza non solo di ammettere parte dei suoi errori, ma capisce anche di essere un uomo migliore di quanto possa sembrare.

Ma il punto più alto della riflessione di Guareschi sul Natale e sul suo vero significato lo troviamo in La cellula di mezzanotte pubblicata sul numero 52 del 26 dicembre 1948 di Candido, la rivista satirica che lo scrittore aveva aperto pochi mesi dopo la fine della seconda guerra mondiale.

Il racconto comincia nel luglio 1948, mentre l’Italia si stava riprendendo dal fallito attentato a Palmiro Togliatti, leader del Partito Comunista italiano.

Nel paese di Don Camillo, Peppone chiede al sacerdote di recitare un Te Deum come ringraziamento per lo scampato pericolo.

La risposta indignata del sacerdote spinge il capo dei comunisti a ordinare ai suoi uomini il divieto assoluto di non mettere mai più piede in chiesa.

Mentre continua il braccio di ferro tra il sindaco e il sacerdote, la domenica, la maggior parte dei comunisti locali si reca presso la Casa del Popolo, mentre le loro famiglie continuano a seguire la Messa nella chiesa di Don Camillo.

L’apice dello scontro arriva alla vigilia di Natale, quando Peppone proclama una Cellula di Mezzanotte, con letture delle opere di Lenin e Mao Tze – Tung, in contrapposizione alla Messa di Mezzanotte di Don Camillo.

Dopo la celebrazione della Messa di Mezzanotte un Don Camillo sfiduciato si confida con il Cristo dell’Altar Maggiore:

“Rimasto solo in chiesa, si svesti in fretta e andò a sbarrare la porta col catenaccio. Camminò in su e in giù per qualche minuto, poi si fermò davanti al Cristo crocifisso.

“Gesù” disse “avete visto?”

“Ho visto” rispose il Cristo “Ti sei fidato troppo di te, don Camillo”.

“No: mi sono fidato di voi” precisò don Camillo.

“Quindi, adesso hai perso la fede in me!”.

Don Camillo s’indignò.

“Gesù” protestò “questo mai! Sarebbe come uno che ha fame e, Il sulla tavola, c’è un pezzo di pane e l’uomo dice: Lo so che Dio non mi lascerà morire di fame e se ne sta Il senza muovere un dito. È logico che, se non allunga la mano e non prende il pane, Dio non può prendere il pane e metterglielo in bocca. Insomma, uno, anche quando ha una grande fiducia nella Divina Provvidenza, non deve rinunciare a ragionare. E, ragionando, uno conclude che se il pane non va verso di lui, è lui che deve andare verso il pane. D’altra parte lo dice anche la sacra scrittura: se la montagna non va a Gesù, Gesù va alla montagna”.

Cristo sorrise.

“Don Camillo, veramente la frase è: Se la montagna non va a Maometto, Maometto va alla montagna”. “Perdonate” si dolse don Camillo “credetemi, io…”.

“Non ho niente da perdonarti, don Camillo: non sono le parole quelle che contano, sono le intenzioni”. Don Camillo si passò la grossa mano sulla fronte e guardò su, verso il Cristo. Ma pensava a Maometto e il Cristo, che lo sapeva, sorrise.”

E allora….“Compagni” stava dicendo Peppone “adesso, per finire degnamente questa democratica riunione vibrante di fede, io vi leggerò un magistrale profilo di Mao Tsetung” quando la porta si spalancò ed entrò un grosso uomo intabarrato che, passando come un panzer tra le panche, arrivò davanti al palco sul quale stava Peppone, salì la scaletta e, spalancato il tabarro, cavò fuori una vecchia cassetta grigioverde che mise con violenza sul tavolino di Peppone.

Tutti quelli delle prime due file di panche la conoscevano a memoria, quella vecchia cassetta grigioverde, perché l’avevano vista tante volte in montagna, quando don Camillo rischiava le pallottole per arrivare fin lassù. E si alzarono.

Don Camillo sollevò il coperchio della cassetta ed ecco sorgere l’altarino da campo. Peppone intanto si era alzato ed era sceso dal palco.

Don Camillo si volse un momento e fece un grugnito.

Allora, caracollando, lo Smilzo salì la scaletta e arrivò al fianco di don Camillo, come aveva fatto tante volte lassù. Poi lo aiutò a vestirsi, accese le candele e, quando fu ora, s’inginocchiò a lato dell’altare. Fu una Messa povera, roba da soldati, quasi clandestina. Ma avevano spento le luci della sala e le candele dell’altarino facevano un bell’effetto. E poi, le note dell’organo della chiesa, quelle che erano venute ad appiccicarsi ai vetri delle finestre del salone, erano ancora vive e palpitanti e cosi c’era anche una lontana musica nell’aria”.

In queste poche righe alla fine del racconto, Guareschi, con la scena di un piccolo gruppo di uomini che ascoltano, nel silenzio della Casa del Popolo, Don Camillo celebrare la Messa di Mezzanotte, sembra tornare alle origini del Natale, con solo una povera stalla e Gesù riscaldato dal bue e dall’asinello, mentre Maria e Giuseppe lo coccolavano in una mangiatoria.

E questa poetica del Natale torna anche in altri racconti del Mondo Piccolo come Natale del 1950 dove, dopo un grave attentato alla sua vita, Don Camillo celebra una Messa di Mezzanotte per le strade del suo paese, oltre al dittico La luce che non si spegne e Da Natale… in cui Peppone decide di bandire il Natale dalla sua famiglia, salvo poi pentirsi dell’errore commesso.

Anche negli altri racconti sul Natale non legati al Mondo Piccolo, come La notte dei miracoli e Vita con la madre, Guareschi cerca sempre di trovare un filo di speranza anche nei momenti più bui, come l’affetto di un figlio e di una moglie.

Speranza che continuerà fino agli ultimi racconti, tra cui Appuntamento con Gramigna, dove lo scrittore, sulla tomba dei genitori, riflette sull’anno passato e su quello che verrà.

Natale nel Mondo Piccolo di Giovannino Guareschi Scrittore, giornalista e umorista dal cuore grande come la sua Bassa, Giovannino Guareschi per tutta la vita inseguì il sogno di un mondo, dove i comunisti e i cattolici potessero essere non solo grandi amici, ma anche alleati contro le delusioni piccole e grandi della vita.

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