how do you get to carnegie hall?

[old_fashioned]

The Inglorious Basterds (AU) Meme



"My name is Lt. Aldo Raine and I'm putting together a special team, and I need me eight soldiers. Eight Jewish-American soldiers. Now, y'all might've heard rumors about the armada happening soon. Well, we'll be leaving a little earlier. We're gonna be dropped into France, dressed as civilians. And once we're in enemy territory, as a bushwhackin' guerrilla army, we're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only..."

Rules:
1. Comment with your character | series | Preferences if any
2. Reply to others
3. Warn for anything offensive


Options:

1. Travel to interesting places! France is beautiful this time of year. How are you enjoying your stay in the countryside?

2. Meet your contact- This dame has some inside dirt on a big target. Do you know any good drinking songs?

3. Catch a flick- Are you working alone, out for your own revenge? Don't let the Americans have all the fun.

4. 100 Nazi Scalps- Let's go hunting.

Comments

Cassie Cage | Mortal Kombat X | OTA

[cassiefuckingcage]

Eren Jaeger | Shingeki no Kyojin | M/M

[preciousbrat]

Seras Victoria | Hellsing | OTA

[vampirevictoria]

.

melinda may | agents of shield | ota

[busdriver]

(chinese-american spy invested in the second sino-japanese war. will there be anything offensive? yes. this is not a serious historical au meme for serious people but i could totally go for that if anyone wants.)

[batoning]

[Hi you. Who do you want for this because I'm up for all of it. Bobbi as a fellow spy? Anne or Jemma as your (less ill-fated) British contact? Jiaying as, essentially, Shosanna? Just lmk I want all of it.]

Clark Luthor | Smallville | OTA

[a_different_future]

[ This is rather up his alley... ]

maximus | inhumans

[inhuman]

[ Let's say Allied agent posing as a high-ranking SS officer whose shitawful interpersonal skills actually help to sell the Woo Hoo Aryan Race #1! BS? Or go with anything but he's not one for genetic politics ruling the day. ]

steve rogers | mcu

[163]

[ did someone say nazi-punching? because he's ready to raise some hell and punch all the nazis. ]

[filing]

[sneaky undercover work?]

[womanofvalue]

[The only trouble is that she's going to want to punch them first, but given that she's the one who's leading this hellbent charge through the French woods in order to reach their targeted sight, Peggy thinks that's perfectly all right, where she's concerned. Still, she'd rather not have run into a little band of enemy soldiers over the horizon, which means that there's trouble afoot.

Trouble and someone who tends to dive in headfirst, though whether that's her or Steve, she's not going to say because she already knows the answer and that it's both.]

What do you think? Shall we attempt to be covert or are you feeling stubbornly straightforward today?

Maria Redekker | Delta Green

[nondeclared]

[Wouldn't be the first time DG's done some Nazi punching.]

[hunter_of_gunmen]

[Time passes slowly in a sniper's hide, draped in a ghillie suit that makes 60-degree days into 80 degrees and put 80-degree days into the triple digits. You resist the urge to scratch itches. You fight back twitches and cramps. You hold in burps, coughs, and farts. You let snakes and ants and all kind of creepy-crawlies slither over you. You stay "stoned to the scope", fixated on a tiny point 500 or 700 or however many meters away, finger off the trigger and going through all the college-level calculus and trigonometry required for that one perfect shot.

Whatever you do, you. Do. Not. Move.

Eventually, you could swear you could feel the earth grinding on its axis. You start to think you can feel the pulse of the ground beneath you. You study every breeze, every leaf, every twitch of grass like it means something because to you it does. The term for it is "getting in the bubble" - reaching a kind of harmony with your environment, of absolute focus.

(There is no room for errors in Ana's line of work. In 40 years of hunting men, she has only made one. She will not make a second.)

The target is SS Oberführer Reinhard Galt. She has his picture in an attaché case at the small of her back - with his blue eyes, blonde hair, and the casual arrogance written across his face, he could have stepped off an SS recruitment poster. If the birthdate she was given for him is accurate, he is 106 years old - and yet, he does not look a day over 34.

(How he has managed this, she does not know. In any case, it will soon be irrelevant.)

It's taken her three days to get here, to low-crawl the last thousand meters to where she now overlooks a bend in a dusty dirt track some 800 meters away, remnants of a failed public-works project by the Belgians so many years ago. The rest of the ambushers are nestled in a gully along the roadside. She can see them nestled amongst the vegetation, see the disturbed dirt in the road where they've laid anti-tank mines in anticipation of the convoy Herr Galt will be traveling in. Her "spotter" - she hasn't needed a spotter in decades - assures her they're competent. That is enough for her.

It is mid-day now. The sun beats down on them as cicadas buzz in the distance. In her head - she dares not even to hum - she sings a nursery rhyme she used to lull Fareeha to sleep with.

Not much longer, now. She can feel it.]

[nondeclared]

[Reinhard Galt has escaped every obstacle thrown in his way. He has made enemies through his entire life; hatred of him was enough for Delta Green to set aside its differences with its hated archenemy, Majestic-12. He's survived when every other scrap of the Karotechia has been wiped off the face of the world. But he's lived long enough.]

[The Program keeps this one quiet as much as they can. Even the information in Ana's orders is the bare minimum. Secrecy is Delta Green's stock and trade, after all. Easier to bury it all if this operation goes south.]

[Trenton is somewhere up the hill from Maria's position. To him, this must seem almost laughable. The rest of the squad, she doesn't know. (She didn't bother to try and get names. It hurts less when the inevitable happens and someone doesn't come back.) Amari is 800 meters from the road. Maria's job is to spot. To watch. To measure.]

[To order the first strike.]

[The air is so tense that Maria can almost taste the electricity in the back of her mouth. It tastes like pennies. Whoever- whatever this man is- he's going to die here today. She watches through a scope as dust begins to kick up further down the road. The head of the convoy is fast approaching. The mutter into her throat mike is barely above a murmur.]

Three o'clock. Dial 18 mils, one click.

[Showtime.]

[hunter_of_gunmen]

[The only acknowledgment from Ana is the way her off-hand slowly moves up to the scope to dial in the adjustments. 18 mils. One click. Wind here is three knots out of the west - downrange, at the roadside, it's looking to be five, running at a 40-degree angle to the target. The difference in elevation is about 100 meters - she takes all of these numbers and more into her head as she fixes her cheek-stock weld and cranes her head to peer into the 12-power scope. She dares not even touch the trigger yet.

The dust cloud becomes bigger now, denser. The convoy comes around a bend - at its head is a Range Rover, crewed by what look to be a handful of skinheads. One is up top, manning a Browning M2 that's been mounted on a makeshift turret. They'll need to take care of that before it shifts the balance of the fight against them.

Five vehicles in the convoy. Most of them are deuce-and-a-halves. She sweeps over them with her scope.]

I have him. Middle vehicle, passenger's seat.

[She can see him plain as day, MP5 cradled in his lap and casual disdain written all over his face. Positive ID. She doesn't doubt she could shoot him right where he sits, blow him right out of the truck - but that would blow the ambush, leave the rest of the team vulnerable.

And so she waits. Lets the convoy come closer. Waits for the command.

No matter what - today, Galt dies.]

[nondeclared]

[18 years ago, Galt put a gun to the head of Matthew Carpenter and pulled the trigger. Agent Adam did not survive his encounter with the man. The only living witness to the crime controls Delta Green now. If he wants Galt dead, it will happen. Failure is not an option. The consequences will be dire. (Maria has not dug far into the history of her unofficial employer. Even she knows some things should remain buried.) Her life- and the lives of her team- are on the line.]

[The sound of birds fades from her ears. The rumble of tires drowns out any noise. The wind stills. The world narrows. She watches as the lead vehicle approaches the ambush site. She's not meant for this line of work. Her place is off the field, back at Langley, wrangling assets and talking her way out of danger. But no one in this life gets what they want.]

[The moment before the front tire hits the mines, she takes a slow breath in.]

Send it.

Donny Donowitz | Inglourious Basterds

[goalenu]

[ LET'S KILL SOME NAZIS. ]

[magneticfields]

[ Fancy a hunt? ]

let's do this

[goalenu]

"This is fucking bullshit," Donny had told Aldo when the truck rolled up. He had his confirmation within moments in the look on the lieutenant's face as he shook hands with the too-clean uniform presenting the small team being delivered. No interference had been one of the perks of working under intentionally loosely defined OSS orders. And yet, here they were being told they now had the honour of teaming up with the real secret weapon.

Which, you know, was just insult to injury; the Basterds were supposed to be the ace in the hole, not these...civillians. Amateurs. Super heroes.

Like that Captain America crap they tried to feed the troops in Italy. Bullshit.

Useful bullshit, though, if rumors proved to be true. Did that really make it any better, though? How the hell were they supposed to compete with honest-to-God superpowers? (It's not a gatdamn competition, they're on our side, Aldo had to remind him.) Un-fucking-fair.

"Alright, fine. So, whatta you do?" Donny finally asked, a day or two too long after making his reluctance to accept the newcomers clear. They'd seen a few mind-reading tricks from one of the men in charge, but the other one, Lehnsherr, had yet to tip his hand.

[magneticfields]

Erik had never wanted to go back to Europe. He knew he needed to. Perhaps even directed by some higher power to go. And so when Charles told him of the special mission, he had not shirked. Even though every nerve in his body screamed to stay away.

He kept mostly quiet around the rest of the team. It was strange to be around his brethren who hadn't been beaten down. Slowly strangled by the fascist's noose until the full extent of their genocidal mania was finally revealed. It was hard not to imagine his own friends, family, even what he himself might have been like under different circumstances.

So when the others followed the lead of the one they affectionately nicknamed "the Bear Jew" and gave him a wide berth, he did not make any attempt to bridge the gap. He brooded, persisting despite Charles' prodding to actually talk to anybody.

Turns out, he didn't have to. Eventually, Donny approached him. He lifted an eyebrow, surprised at the rather blunt approach, and smiled wolfishly.

"Let's just say I can make sure that nobody stops you from doing all those wonderfully brutal things you can do with a baseball bat."

He climbed into the truck and took his now-customary seat with his back to the cab. "I'd hate to ruin the surprise."

[thecanarylives]

[ Raids like these are nothing like they show in the movies. There's no epic soundtrack, no slow-motion action shots, no cut aways or fade outs when things get too gruesome. It's just blood and pain and muffled gunfire against a backdrop of silence. Bones breaking and choked screams and people gasping for air.

Her vision's gone red in the midst of it all, and she's moving more on muscle memory than real thought. Most of the time, she tries to control that bloodlust inside her. Make it quick and clean and get the hell out. But not with them.

With them, she gets to have her fun. Unleash hell on an group of assholes without feeling a shred of guilt for it.

When all's said and done and the forest goes quiet again and there's nothing left but the sound of their breathing, the red in her vision fades and she blinks up at the man in the overalls covered in blood, cocking a brow. ]

A baseball bat? Really?

[goalenu]

[ In the time it would have taken Donny to yell who the fuck else had this intel?, the masked assailant was already mixed into the fray. A woman? Only surprising for a split-second and certainly not the first he's seen throw down with the enemy. Is she alone? Usually not, so once the proverbial dust clears, he sends Stiglitz to find her teammates and Hirschberg with news to the lieutenant.

He's not gonna complain (immediately) about another self-motivated team, out there. But, shit, they needed to coordinate these things better. ]

What? [ He cracks his club down on the skull of the still-twitching body underneath his boot and it stills. He just watched her flip around with nothing but a pistol, was that any more effective or less questionable? Kneeling, he cradles the bat in the crook of his elbow and pulls out a knife. ] What the fuck's wrong with that?

[thecanarylives]

[ She has to admit, she does get a little too much satisfaction out of blind-siding both the enemy and the band of merry men intent on taking them down. They're a little sloppy - who uses a baseball bat in combat, for God sakes - but they do good enough work that she almost feels a little guilty for stealing so much of the fun for herself.

His men won't find a team - she's been working alone for a few months now, tracking down the smaller Nazi battalions and doing what she can to pick them off. But to make a bigger dent, she needs resources. The kind of resources that only a certain Special Service Force can provide.

Holstering her gun, she leans down to reclaim a knife buried in the neck of a stilled Nazi, wiping it off on his uniform and tucking it into her boot before straightening. ]

Just seems kinda blunt for battle. Maybe if you added spikes to it, or something.

bellatrix lestrange | hp | ota

[sadistic]

( non-magical au in which this frau is a literal nazi. i invite you to punch her. have a tense conversation with her. be choked out by her, hans landa style. whatever, i'm not your supervisor. just bear in mind that she's the actual worst trash person and i do not condone her. )

Erik Lehnsherr | X-Men Movies | OTA

[magneticfields]

[ Which would you care to shed first? ]

Sara Lance | DCTV

[thecanarylives]

>

Death (Personification) | Elisabeth (Musical)

[thelastdanceismine]

Semper | OC | OTA

[shuruppak_kid]

[A 5000-year-old Undying Man who happened to be living as a farmer in Ukraine in the 40s, trying to avoid getting wrapped up in mortal conflict. After Operation Barbarossa, he wound up conscripted into the Soviet Army, and witnessing the horrors of the Eastern Front, decided enough was enough.

Especially good for those rare Eastern-side Nazi-hunting scenes and Awkward International Alliances never mind that he may not exactly be an official Soviet operative, but open to other ideas, too.]

Sherlock Holmes || Sherlock BBC || m/m

[desecrated]