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breitzbachbea · 3 years

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Day 1: Language [GreSic]

Here is my first entry for @aphrarepairweek2021! No intimacy like finding traces of a shared past on your tongue.

Ship: Greece/Sicily [OC] (Herakles Karpuzi/Michele Vento) Set in an Human/Organized Crime AU Read it here on ao3

All Sicilian & Greek words are translated at the bottom - I marked the words in red, so that you can easily find where you left off if you jump to the translations!

Much thanks to @amber-isnt-a-precious-stone for betareading this Oneshot & to @crispyliza for helping me with the Greek transcription. Love you guys <3

Since I don't describe Michele in the oneshot itself, here's also a Teenage GreSic kiss, drawn by my friend @/C0FFINATED from twitter! (They're 16 & 15 here; in the Oneshot, they're somewhere between 18 and 20)

In Una Lingua Familiare

They sat in Herakles’ old and battered kitchen. It must have been the height of Greek Luxury back in the 50s, when it had been renovated. Now it felt cosy, with all its chipped tiles and worn handles.

Something flew past the window and they both turned their heads.

It flew past the window again.

“Taddarita,” Michele told Herakles with a content smile.

Herakles smiled back. “Nychterida.”

“Oh, I think that’s the same word,” Michele said and lifted the small coffee cup to his lips.

“It’s not,” Herakles said. “After you butchered it.”

Michele chuckled about it. He still hadn’t taken a sip. Herakles had made them Greek coffee and Michele was careful with it. He dreaded the thought of reaching the bottom and ending up with a mouthful of coffee grounds. “We didn’t butcher them, we’ve made them our own. But we’ve kept them, regardless.” He finally drank some before he glanced back to Herakles with eyes half lidded. “Carusu,” he said.

“Agori”, Herakles replied.

They had drifted off and talked about history and linguistics again. A safe topic. No business. No nightmares. Michele had tried his best to get rid of the bags under his eyes before he came to Greece but he had no idea if he succeeded. Herakles hadn’t said a word about it and he was grateful for it.

He just wanted to go back to the days when he learnt Ancient Greek at the liceo classico and Herakles did the same at his lykio. When they had found another shared passion to fill the time of the rare afternoons spent together in Palermo or Athens.

“Modern Greek is still Greek” Herakles said. “The words we kept, we didn’t change.”

“Even if we changed them to suit our tongues, we haven’t replaced them,” Michele answered. “After the Phoenicians and the Romans came. And the Arabs and the Germans, the French and the Spaniards. None of them could take the words from us.” His voice was low and he wondered if it even left his mouth or just stuck as vibrations to his lips.

Herakles gave away nothing as he looked into Michele’s eyes. His form was mostly in the shadows, with only the dim light of the moon, the city and a dingy lamp in the corner of the room.

Almost nothing. His tongue darted out and licked delicately over his upper lip.

Michele watched him intently. “Liccu,” he said.

“Lihoudis,” Herakles replied.

They said nothing for a while, broke eye contact and Herakles took a sip of his coffee.

“There’s an Italian version of Herakles, too,” Michele said and Herakles lazily raised an eyebrow. “I could call you Erculi.” His accent was heavy when the name rolled off his tongue.

Herakles' thumb rubbed over the edge of his cup. His lips were slightly parted and Michele didn’t miss the attentive spark in his eyes.

He tried to distract himself by taking another sip of coffee.

“Mihalis,” Herakles said and Michele swallowed coffee grounds and sugar.

His hairs stood on end. He wanted to take Herakles’ hand and call him Erculi and babble sweet nothings in Sicilian at him. He wanted to be reminded of the touches they had shared when they had been kids, behind the safety of a schoolbook and the wild growth of a garden or sometimes tucked away in the corner of a dock wall.

Now they weren’t kids anymore, however, freed from their parents' watchful eye. He could do all that.

Herakles chuckled and despite the hour, it was a joyful little sound. Michele had put the coffee cup down and thought to get a glass of water to wash the coffee out of his mouth. He didn’t dare look at Herakles.

“You know who also changed my name?” Herakles asked and Michele glanced at him.

“Who?” The grounds stuck to his tongue and the walls of his mouth, but he wouldn’t say anything. Not unless Herakles said something first.

“Natasa. She calls me Iraklis, because she thinks Herakles is pretty pretentious in this day and age.” He chuckled again, his eyes on the table instead of Michele, and a faint smile on his face. “Maybe that’s also the reason why we Greeks changed all the words you Sicilians kept.”

Michele chuckled to himself. He got up to fetch a glass of water.

“She's been a big help in navigating this Shark Tank. Calls me Ira for short,” Herakles said and Michele nearly choked on the water. One last chuckle left Herakles, more of an amused sigh.

“Oh,” Michele said, as steady as his voice could manage.

“Interesting.”

Herakles looked at him from the corner of his eyes. “Yeah?”

In Italian, Ira means wrath.

They weren’t kids anymore, Michele thought. He wanted to sleep.

So he put his glass of water down, walked over to Herakles and peered inside his coffee cup. Empty, but so carefully drunk that he didn’t inhale the grounds.

“Iri means to go in Sicilian,” Michele said. Herakles had turned towards him. “I think I want to go to bed.”

Up close, he saw the dark circles underneath Herakles’ eyes. There was a cut on his thumb that hadn’t yet fully healed. Scratch marks peaked out underneath his hair and shirt.

And Michele didn’t care one bit for any of it, because it didn’t change that Herakles was so beautiful it knocked the breath out of Michele’s lungs.

Herakles scooted back with his chair, a dull sound on the old tiles, and welcomed Michele onto his lap. His hands steadied him as he sat down and one found its way into Michele’s hair as he kissed him. He liked the warm and heavy weight against his head and his own thumb brushed over Herakles’ cheek. Herakles’ lips were soft and warm and when his tongue darted out into the other’s mouth or it willingly met Herakles’ in his own, there was a faint taste of sugar and coffee.

Herakles broke their kiss and pulled back. When Michele opened his eyes, they went wide upon meeting Herakles’ stare. The pleading in his eyes scared him.

“Mihalis,” Herakles then whispered and Michele was ready to keel over.

“Erculi,” he got out, voice on the verge of tears and held onto Herakles for dear life as they kissed again.

~*~

"Taddarita/Nychterida [νυχτερίδα]" = Bat

"Carusu/Agori [αγόρι]" = Boy (In Greek, it can also be used to mean "Boyfriend". Since the Italian ragazzo works the same way, I assume the Sicilian carusu can also refer to a boyfriend. Do with that information what you will.)

"Liccu/Lihoudis" = Greedy; To have a sweet tooth

#aphrarepairweek2021 #day 1: language #aph #hetalia #hws #aph greece #hws greece #hetalia oc #aph sicily #hws sicily #aph gresic #hws gresic #storie nostre #hera #miche #gresic #oh BOY OH BOY OH BOY #I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS #PLEASE ENJOY EVERYONE

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thealmightyemprex · 3 years

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Top 10 Batman movies

Batman is one of the most beloved superheroes and has had many movies based on him .Only picking ones where Batman is the main focus so no Justice League films

1.Batman The Movie

Yes this IS my favorite Batman movie and I make no apologies. Film sucessfully juggles four villains ,has an engaging plot and has a legit great performance by Adam West .It also happens to be very sillly in the style of a silver age Batman comic and I love that

2.Batman

This one feels like a classic 30's/early 40's Batman comic ,right down to a brutal Batman not afraid to kill .It's the style and Jack Nicholson clearly having a ball playing the Joker that make this film

3.Batman Returns

So this movie is ....A lot and kind of a mess and it is not for everyone. It is very much Tim Burton unchained and it has very little to do with the comics .....That said I love this movie . I adore the fact it feels like a gothic monster movie as opposed to an action film .Gorgeous imagery,a fantastic perormance by Michelle Pfiffer ,Beautiful score , Christopher Walken is one of the villains and while the writing for the Penguin is confused ,Danny Devito gives a powerhouse performance ,being legit menacing and revolting

4. Batman Mask of the Phantasm

I feel as a movie this might be the best one ,structurally speaking . It's a solid mystery that explores Batman as a character , animation is gorgeous and allthe voice acting is subperb .It is not my favoritebecause there areelements from other Batman movies I like more

5.Batman Beyond Return of the Joker

Probably my favorite performance of Mark Hamill as the Joker .Thisw movie is awesome ,especially after watching Batman Beyond

6.Batman vs Two Face

Adam Wests final Batman performance ,has a great villainous performance by William Shatner as Two Face (Proof that Shatner can give a truly brillaint performance ,cause he is legit menacing here)the plot is so wonderfully silverage comic booky ,and hey its a Batman movie where Joker ISNT the main villain which is rare ,this is a Two Face movie all the way and I am all for it

7.The Dark Knight

....Yeah I gotta explain why this is low for me .I got several hangups with Christopher Nolan and Christain Bale (Who I think is a terrible Batman ),I have problemswith the third act and this is in my mind a great crime movie that Batman happens to be in .That said it is still a great movie ,great supporting cast including Gary Oldman ,Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman ,and holy crap Heath Ledger makes for a phenominal reinterpertation of the Joker

8.Batman Under the Red Hood

Great voice cast ,excellent dialogue and an emotional story .This movie is awesome

Batman Return of the Caped Crusaders

A tribute to the classic 60's show ,with Adam West ,Julie Newmar and Burt Ward reprising their roles and Batman turns evil giving Adam West a chance to shine as a villain.This is a ton of fun

The Dark Knight Returns parts 1 and 2

Frank Miller is a lunatic and the comic this film is based on started some ungood trends in comics (And popularized Batman vs Superman which I HATE ).....That said it is still a good story ,and the film is beautifully animated (Which is interesting cause I HATE the artwork of the comic) ,wonderfully cast (Especially Peter "Robocop" Weller as Batman and Michael Emerson as the Joker ) ,action is spetacur.I dont think it is the ultimate Batman story ,and its a bit ofa problematic fave ,but I still think its an awesome movie

@metropolitan-mutant-of-ark @ariel-seagull-wings

#batman

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iamquimichelle · 5 years

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I woke up this morning like this....! As a flawed human.... who isnt? I reflect on the people I also hurt because I used to reside in a dark place and a few years ago that is most likely where I met every negative impulse or emotion. If you were one of those people I deeply apologize. I reflected on the people I tried to help who just weren't ready. What I allowed in my space. I thought I could have or should have done "MORE". Then one day; no longer wanting to be "STUCK" in my head or life. I knew what it wasn't supposed to feel like. I got sober from anger, rage, pain and unnecessary baggage. I had enough of that. 30ish years to be exact. 😍. I walked out and got kissed by a happiness of compliments, achievements, goals and a new view on how life should be. Everyday is a new day to start. Small steps lead into bigger ones. So to the "MOST HIGH" the direct "SOURCE", #thankyou for everything and every experience. . . Hello my name is Qui Michelle and it's been 2 solid years that I have been #happy with myself, for real! . . Please don't ask me how old I am. I have to ask my daughter. 😂 I forget because I stopped keeping track of my age once I started to feel, move, and live like I was 27 again. . . Courtesy of @tinybuddhaofficial #happyonpurpose #happinessinside #solid #solidfoundation #buildingstrength #endurancetraining #blessings #mosthigh #allpraisetothemosthigh #source #natural #energy #flirt #soberliving #soberlife #livingmybestlife #authors #truequotes #truebeauty #poetsociety #authorlife #familylook #flyinghigh #soaring #funtimes #enjoythejourney #enjoyyourself #enjoylife https://www.instagram.com/p/B0OE6aaDS_w/?igshid=byjtza8hji74

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viralhottopics · 7 years

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The Turkey-Netherlands Spat Is A Reminder Of A New Specter Haunting Europe

ISTANBUL Flying back to Istanbul after a warm week in Britain where it felt liberating to be away from the constant political chatter back home I came to the shocking realization that the Netherlands, of all things, had been dominating Turkeys news cycle in my absence.

In Germany, and now in the Netherlands, Turkish politicians who support Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoans proposal for an executive presidency in the upcoming April referendum, had been barred from organizing public rallies for Turks there who can vote, I learned.

Those countries are important in my personal history I lived in them and wandered in their streets. I fell in and out of love in their bohemian quarters. And in my 20s, they represented freedom to my youthful mind, even while I was witnessing the rebirth of a specter in their dark corners the specter ofthe barbarian.

‘Turks are ugly, regressive and violent; they are rapists and murderers; they need to be stopped.’ This is the message spreading in Europe nowadays.

At the time, I was unprepared for the ominous power of identity politics, ready to prove to my European hosts that I was not a barbarian but a civilized young man from Turkey. The same was not expected from students who didnt come from Muslim-majority countries.

I am not a conservative, but reading about the recent violent events against conservative Turks there the Dutch police had attacked those who came to the Turkish consulate in Rotterdam to support a conservative Turkish politician deeply unsettled me.

I came across an article about a video of a group of men in Switzerland dressed as terrifying Ottoman Turks they had thick beards and fezzes on their heads, the piece reported. Marching like Death Troopers, with the Turkish president representing a kind of Darth Vader, they seemed to scream, Turks are ugly, regressive and violent; they are rapists and murderers; they need to be stopped. This is the message spreading in Europe nowadays a new ghost set to haunt the continent even more than it already has. While the tone in Switzerland wasnt as harsh toward Turkey as Germany or the Netherlands on rallies, this footage, which I cannot verify but which was spread around on social media here, was shocking for many Turks. But for me, this terrifying bogeyman seemed eerily familiar.

Dylan Martinez / Reuters

Riot police stand guard during clashes with demonstrators near the Turkish consulate in Rotterdam, Netherlands. March 12, 2017.

I dont like murderers, but I dont like European politicians telling me I will be perceived as one of those nasty people if I act too Turkish, for that is clearly the sentiment, part of a larger anti-Muslim sentiment, being disseminated from cities across Europe these days.

Thanks to the rise of right-wing politics, the most liberal countries in the continent have changed beyond return.

In the Netherlands, where I was a graduate student a decade ago, I had once taken much pleasure in being away from the kind of nationalism that had been brewing up in Turkey back then. As someone deeply weary of jingoism and the political rhetoric of patriotism, I had long disliked Turkish identity politics. And yet, it was also in the Netherlands that Id realized the uncannily inescapable power of national and religious identity of the misery of being pigeonholed into categories inside which I couldnt help but appear to Europeans.

I dont like murderers, but I dont like European politicians telling me I will be perceived as one of those nasty people if I act too Turkish.

On the day I arrived in Amsterdam in 2004, a Dutch-Moroccan extremist had cut the throat of filmmakerTheo van Gogh near Oosterpark, a public park located a few hundred meters away from my apartment. I had had little idea then but I would have no other choice but to experience my new city under the shadow of that murder.

As my plane flew over the Rhine, I remembered that day November 2, 2004 when I headed out with my flatmate and a graduate student I had just met. There was outrage on the Amsterdam street a feeling equally intense to that produced by the assassination, in 2002, of Pim Fortuyn, a politician who held anti-Islam views similar to those of Theo van Gogh and Geert Wilders.

In the liberal capital of Europe, Fortuyns assassination, the first in Dutch history in centuries, had sent shockwaves. The killing of van Gogh in 2004 rekindled that feeling with a fervor. That was understandable. When someone is assassinated in a park of your city, you are perfectly entitled to be outraged. But then again, ideology cunningly makes use of such feelings. And so it did in Amsterdam from my first day there.

Michel Porro via Getty Images

People watch a TV broadcast near to the crime scene where Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh was killed in Amsterdam. Nov. 2, 2004.

A war had been waged against liberal values by barbarians, locals whispered to each other, and that needed to be answered with equal ferocity for people like now-far-right candidate Geert Wilders, but also for mainstream politicians, this sense of outrage would turn into an opportunity. Despite Wilders defeat by incumbent Prime Minister Mark Rutte in this weeks elections, mainstream Dutch politics had already turned right-wing and anti-Islam back then, thanks to the instrumentalization of that 2004 murder. The fact that Wilders party came in second shows its still a contender.

That night, we had made our way to an avant garde bar. We were full of hopes and dreams. We talked about Jacques Derrida and wanted to explore minds as curious as ours I wanted to discover new views and face new ideas. Instead, I was lectured by a group of old local hippies at the bar about the beauty of freedom in Europe. Learning that I was coming from Turkey, they instructed me to tell my Muslim countrymen about the importance of Enlightenment.

Oh, the Enlightenment, that sacred word! The idea that destroying Islam from the face of the earth was a necessary condition of our liberation was almost laughable. Gradually, I was realizing how coming from a Muslim country was equal in this land to having the potential to become a barbarian.

Wear a white mask and no European fears you … But behind masks and the erasure of ones perceived self, lies the seeds of subjugation and self-denial.

It is a difficult task, for a liberal to understand his condescension towards the regressive people of the world. The liberal worldview smoothly provides the comforting bubble of opinion outside of which all seems barbaric.

In Amsterdam all was fine as long as I acted in a non-Turkish way and agreed to de-Turkishize my character. As an aspiring Oscar Wilde scholar and, like him, someone deeply suspicious of nationalism, that was easy.

But did I really want to hate my own past and memories and experiences? Just wear a white mask and no European fears you any longer. But behind masks and the erasure of ones perceived self, lies the seeds of subjugation and self-denial.

Courtesy of Kaya Genc

Kaya at a cafe in Amsterdam in 2004.

Politics is theater, and whilst talking about books in Britain, I had almost missed the biggest play on offer, I realized as the plane flew over Europe: Turkeys foreign minister had been banned from landing in the Netherlands, the Turkish minister of families stopped outside the door in the Turkish consulate in Rotterdam before reportedly being forced to spend about four hours in her car, and others.

This reminded me of how the Turk is a crucial character in the European psyche. While in Britain on my most recent trip, a local gentleman told me that his aunt used to warn him against becoming a Turk when he acted violently. The Turk: the darkest fear of the European, the age-old stereotype goes.

What is more surprising to me is how the most liberal friends I have on social media have started expressing views that are but an evolution of that stereotype so masterfully repurposed by right-wing politicians my friends consider themselves left wing and yet they openly confess to agreeing with the views of Wilders on Turks living in European Union countries.

The Turk is a crucial character in the European psyche … the darkest fear of the European.

Reading about how a Dutch mayor said hed given special forces the go ahead to open fire on the Turkish crowd in Rotterdam if they found it necessary and the protests in Istanbul where someone reportedly changed the Dutch flag at the consulate with the Turkish one, I was initially reminded of the protest culture in my homeland or rather its violent suppression by the Turkish state.

This was, after all, precisely the kind of reaction the Turkish police force had towards protesters at Gezi Park in Istanbul during 2013s environmentalist uprising. Young activists were killed, and fear and anxiety had dominated the public space. The authorities acted cowardly, as they often do, and young people were understandably furious. Officials ruthlessly burned the tents of young people whose ideals they failed to burn they live on.

People watching Turkey back then might have pointed at the violence in Gezi as yet another reason to brand us barbarians. But just as it wasnt fair to label me with this term back in 2004 as a student looking to get an education in the Netherlands, this label isnt fair here either.

Scott Peterson via Getty Images

Turkish police clash with anti-government protesters in Istanbul over the Gezi Park redevelopment project. June 22, 2013.

Turks like the novelist Orhan Pamuk or the filmmaker Nuri Bilge Ceylan have been inspiring youth all over the world because of their explorations of the Turkish psyche and the Anatolian heartland. They have challenged the stereotype of the regressive Turkish culture, instead choosing to focus on exploring its intricacies. From contemporary artists like Deniz Tortum and Deniz Gamze Ergven to musicians like Gaye Su Akyol, a new generation of creative Turks are also producing exciting artworks.

But why should I, a Turkish novelist, be forced to give examples of Nobelists, Palme dOr winners and Academy Awards nominees to prove that Turks can be creative, worthwhile members of the international community? Citizens of only some nations are put in this unsettling position.

Im afraid that the rise of this intensely creative new generation of Turks, as well as the existence of perfectly civilized Turkish citizens, will do little in combating the image of the barbarian that had long haunted the European psyche and made a comeback a decade ago. Having taken the shape of the fez-wearing Ottoman Turk, an image meant to terrify us and change our ways, this specter will prove ineffective in turning Turks, the majority of whom dont see their traditional culture as a form of barbarism, into something else it may even turn the Ottoman fez into a fashion item.

Despite Geert Wilders defeat, I fear that the genie put out of the bottle by right-wing European politicians will continue haunting the continent.

As my plane started descending on Istanbul, I had the distinct memory of an Amsterdam coffeehouse by a canal that I used to frequent as a 23-year-old. With a cigarette in my hand, I would reflect on the kind of nationalism brewing in my homeland and believed, naively, that the laid-back streets of this city could provide an antidote, and a solution, to all that.

Despite Wilders defeat, I fear that the genie put out of the bottle by right-wing European politicians will continue haunting the continent.

It was raining at Atatrk Airport when I touched ground, and the night seemed grim.