Someone somewhere is going home tonight;

Every day I wake up and think:

“At some point Izzy realised how out of control things had gotten, and started putting himself in between Ed and the crew, as much as he could. Especially when Ed was too drunk/high to even know what he was doing. Cause Izzy doesn’t want the others to suffer more for his mistakes.”

“They are all bonded through shared trauma now.”

this morning i got this comment:

and after i stopped blubbering over it, i picked up my writing notebook, and re-read all my fic research, and opened up my document again for the first time in weeks without being afraid of it

Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)

But doesn't LIKE his fellow man. Or woman. He tries, but he really just can't help but feel annoyed by most of the people he is trying to lead against the system (or liberate from it) and feels slightly superior to most of them.

He settle on wanting to free his fellow man or woman from an evil Empire because he likes and respects England even less than he likes and respects his fellow man.

Which is valid btw but it's fun how he genuinely only likes and respects a max of five people in the whole show, and yet he still says things like "I can't believe we are so poorly made as that."

Yes you believe that in your daily life, that's why you can't open up with anyone and you can’t stop treating them as your politically, morally and intellectually inferiors!

I think it's fascinating that in abstract he believes in the inherent goodness of humanity and the idea that in a more equal and less corrupted society, people would not oppress each others for fun and history would be a journey though progress; in concrete he thinks that every person he interact with is dumber than him and need to be manipulated and convinced to do exactly what he thinks is the right thing to do, with very fews exception of two or three people he considers as smart and morally righteous as himself.

What a funny character.

I’ve been dropping in and out of working on a kind of magical realism AU for The Man From UNCLE for a month or so, so here’s a little excerpt from that.

Napoleon had his suspicions confirmed when he died in an Italian basement.

Perhaps, if he had not been dazed by the drugs, he could have convinced the shadows to encompass him and traversed them to safety. He had done it before, once out of desperation, once curiosity. Even without the restrains the odds were against him but he would have tried - at least until Rudi sent the bulb swinging, chasing away the tendrils of darkness he had instinctively reached for.

He wondered briefly if Victoria had twigged his gift somehow. Whether her truthtelling skills had unveiled more secrets than he had intended or his captors simply had a love for the dramatic. Neither option was appealing.

After Rudi's little speech was over, there was not much time left for musing. For anything, really. And when blackness of a different kind invaded his vision he welcomed it gratefully.

Napoleon had never been afraid of the dark.

Twenty seconds later he woke - a pleasant surprise - to electricity sparking through his veins, the taste of ozone in the air, and one seriously pissed off KGB agent. Any residual doubt was squashed by the way the room shuddered as though a bomb had just gone off. And, of course, there was Illya, stood over Rudi’s now limp form, still radiating static.