#the girl from u.n.c.l.e.

[the-meme-from-uncle]

U.N.C.L.E. Severance AU

#my art #the man from uncle #the girl from uncle #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #april dancer #mark slate #severance #fanart #alternate universe #the man from u.n.c.l.e. #the girl from u.n.c.l.e. #art #artists on tumblr #mfu #gfu #watercolour

[banemmanan]

U.N.C.L.E. statistics graphs

Part 2 of 3

[part 1] * [part 3]

All Man from U.N.C.L.E. data was compiled by @commander-kiranerys :

Series 1 * Series 2 * Series 3 * Series 4

Girl from U.N.C.L.E. data was compiled by myself and my sister:

* GFU *

Original graphs created by commander-kiranerys:

* :1: * :2: * :3: * :4: *

(more info and analysis under the cut)

Disclaimer:

As you can see from the data attributes, the mfu and gfu stats have been compiled by two different people. As such, results should be taken with a grain of salt as our views on what exactly constitutes 'torture' or a 'failed escape' may vary.

A word on graphs:

I felt that having compiling the separate info in one place in the form of bar charts was ideal for visual comparisons of the data, rather than jumping between posts. However, I cannot recommend enough commander-kiranerys's original graphs enough due to them being in the form of line graphs, thus giving a good view of change over time for the individual results of her statistics. This was not possible here due to gfu being part of a separate show.

Analysis:

Tied up: so if you're into bondage then MFU Season 3 is for you. Specifically Illya... (I see you Season 3 writers, I see you). As you can see from these graphs and the next two, the GFU villains weren't really very kinky. A shame tbh (who said that?).

Chained or handcuffed: I had combined these two separate categories into just the one in my data set and so I added together commander-kiranerys' results to create some compatible data. The MFU stats here remain very consistent before that good ol' Season 4 drop, they didn't get that same significant increase that being tied up saw.

Tortured: sad to see that Napoleon and Illya have never been tortured together. As the old saying goes, partners who get tortured together, stay together. Very tragic.

Drugged: a lot of the cynics out there will say that it's no surprise at all that GFU was on the most drugs of the series. But to that I say, just look at that MFU Season 3 stat! The least by a long shot!

Knocked out: the most impressive thing here is that if you removed all of April's stats, GFU would still be leading on getting knocked out. I'm more than a little worried about Mark; has anyone checked him for post-concussion syndrome?

Shot: my findings? Bullet wound Mark is an outlier and should not be counted. He is one gunshot away in his single series from equalling Illya in the entire run of MFU. The consistency of those MFU results is very satisfying to me, and then Mark has to ruin it! Someone get this man a touriquet or smth idc. Also April is bullet proof, aparently.

Wet: although I was too British and prude to tally-up instances of partial nudity (idk why I found that too embarrassing ok), I am not imune to fanservice and was more than happy to count instances of getting wet. Now, if you like your agents soaking wet, then aparently GFU is the show for you (yes this is a propaganda post). Though on average it ties with MFU Season 4; in terms of raw numbers it cannot be beat. Interestingly though, Season 1 Napoleon is tied with Mark for soggiest individual character.

I will freely admit that the analysis here is strongly skewed towards comparing the GFU results with the MFU results. Mainly due to commander-kiranerys having already created a set of graphs and gone over the MFU data there. I didn't want these posts to replace those in any way and instead to add to them. Please check out those posts (linked above) for a more MFU-oriented approach!

I hope you found this data useful or at least interesting! I would love to have discussions about these!

#the man from uncle #the girl from uncle #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #april dancer #mark slate #mfu #gfu #the man from u.n.c.l.e. #the girl from u.n.c.l.e. #muncle stats #gfu stats #robert vaughn #david mccallum #stefanie powers #noel harrison #my post #statistics #1960s tv #spies

[sorenkingsley]

#the girl from u.n.c.l.e. #retrotvblr #grandmastv #the girl from uncle #tvedit #tvcentric #televisiongifs #my gifs #tgfu 1x01

[pulpsandcomics2]

The Girl From U.N.C.L.E.     December 1966

#spy stories #the girl from u.n.c.l.e.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1967 AMT Piranha

The Girl from U.N.C.L.E. (Stefanie Powers). Her car is a 1967 AMT Piranha customized by Gene Winfield.The character is April Dancer, an agent of the secret international counter espionage and law and enforcement agency called U.N.C.L.E., an American agent with a British partner in Mark Slate. She was often armed with gimmicks and gadgets, like the campier side of James Bond. Her spy adventures often utilized her multi-lingual capabilities, accents, and dancing skills.

#car #cars #AMT Piranha #AMT #Piranha #tv cars #movie cars #stefanie powers #Girl from U.N.C.L.E.

[bethbethbeth01]

60s television...

Today, I was thinking about one of my favorite childhood series: The Wild Wild West, featuring 19th century secret agents James West (Robert Conrad) and Artemus Gordon (Ross Martin), who lived together (*ahem*) in a private train.

[Note: we are talking only about the tv series here, not the unfortunate - although apparently popular - 1999 movie starring Will Smith and Kevin Kline]

Artie’s “thing” in the show was disguises. Jim’s thing was appearing shirtless.

Occasionally, Artie was also shirtless.

Despite a few too many era-specific stereotypes (especially in its portrayals of “exotic” foreigners), The Wild Wild West was smart & entertaining...and had a clever graphics team.

It also featured some amazing guest stars, especially my favorite, Michael Dunn, who played the brilliant “mad scientist” Dr. Miguelito Quixote Loveless (Dr, Loveless appeared in ten episodes.)

#Yes I'm a fandom old #But the Wild Wild West was one of the most innovative tv westerns #Perhaps in a week or two I'll share more 60s era secret agent shows #Like The Man from U.N.C.L.E. #Or The Girl from U.N.C.L.E. #Or The Champions

[cha-melodius]

Hi! Could I request #10 and Napollya for the ask game if it hasn't been taken yet? I'm just picturing Illya as a mall elf and it's absolutely cracking me up. Genuinely though, I will read anything you come up with, you're a gift to the fandom. Happy holidays :)

(You are so right for this, anon. I was really, really hoping someone would choose this one, and I'm so pleased with how this fic turned out. Pure, unadulterated holiday fluff. Thanks so much and happy holidays!)

Consider the Price to an Elf

Read it on AO3 (G, 3.6k)

Napoleon has no idea how he ended up getting roped into taking his boss’s kid to SantaLand. Well, that’s not true; really, he should have foreseen it, given how things have gone this year. It’s not that he doesn’t like the little squirt; honestly, at six, Catherine is at least twice as sharp as her idiot father—fucking Sanders—extremely charming, and a ridiculously well-behaved child. If you’re going to be constantly coerced into providing free childcare, things could be a lot worse.

“Solo, are we really gonna see Santa?” Cat asks as she skips along next to him, one of her tiny hands enfolded in his much larger one.

“That’s the plan,” Napoleon confirms. “What do you think? Is he gonna be here?”

“He hasta be,” she says definitively, her dark curls bobbing as she nods.

“Oh yeah? Why do you say that?”

She points with her free hand, a look of wonder on her face. “Look! Elves.”

They’ve just turned the corner, and sure enough, SantaLand lays before them in all its lurid, excessively cheery glory. Santa himself isn’t visible beyond all the festive barriers they’ve put up to control the line, but a number other people dressed in elf costumes are positioned around, greeting people at the entrance and direct them to where they’ll be standing for the next—Christ—hour, apparently, if the sign at the entrance is to be believed.

“You sure this is what you want to do today?” Napoleon tries, even though he already knows the answer. “You know, Santa already got your letter.” “I don’t know,” Cat retorts stubbornly. “What if it got lost? You told me. Trust your own eyes an’ nuthin’ else.”

Napoleon has never known someone who could more effectively use his own words against him. He’s so ridiculously proud, and also a little annoyed. “Fine. But I don’t want to hear any complaining about the wait, little missy.”

“I won’t,” she insists. Then her expression turns a little too calculating for her six-year-old face. “We should talk to the elves. Get the intel.”

“Where did you even learn the word ‘intel’?”

Cat gives him an exasperated look, which is fair. “Let’s go, Solo.”

Unsurprisingly, the elf at the front entrance, a petite redhead with freckles dusting her button nose, tells them precisely what the sign indicates: wait times to see Santa are running approximately an hour today, but the magical voyage through Candy Cane Lane—how can she say that with a straight face?—has plenty to see and do. Napoleon seriously doubts that, but he also knows he won’t be the one dealing with a twitchy child on the verge of a meltdown, because Cat will be fine. He might be standing next to one, though, and that’s bad enough.

There are dioramas showing elves hard at work making toys at the North Pole, Mrs. Claus in the kitchen baking cooking, and even animatronic reindeer. Napoleon is impressed despite himself; this place goes all out. No wonder Sanders insisted Macy’s had the only Santa in the city worth visiting. As the line crawls past the displays, Cat exhibits all the curiosity of her age, which is to say, endless. Napoleon fields perhaps a thousand questions before his attention is abruptly drawn by something entirely more interesting than all the rest of their surroundings. Or rather, someone.

They’ve traversed almost the whole of SantaLand at this point, and the elf just visible at the front of the line, directing children to Santa, is a sight to behold. Good lord, he’s beautiful. Even at a distance Napoleon can tell he’s absurdly tall, with legs for days that are quite helpfully wrapped in skin-tight green velvet, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist emphasized by a red-and-white striped belt that Napoleon itches to curl his fingers around. His blond hair peeks out from under his jaunty elf-cap and falls softly over his forehead, framing his exquisite features, but perhaps the most intriguing thing about him is the fact that, unlike every other elf they’ve seen, he’s not smiling. He’s not even trying. His mouth is fixed into a hard line, and he greets every guest who gets to the front of the line like they’ve personally wronged him. Napoleon’s not sure what it says about him that he’s halfway in love with the guy before he can ever seen the color of his eyes, which, as it turns out, are ridiculously blue.

“So-LO,” Cat says, clearly annoyed as she tugs on his hand. It’s possible it’s not the first time she’s said it. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Hm?” he hums before finally tearing his eyes away from the elf. “Oh, nothing. Just… distracted.”

And he remains distracted as they slowly inch closer, unable to keep from watching the elf while he tries to keep up his half of the conversation. Fortunately for him, there’s a display that includes penguins, which sets Cat off on a long tirade about how penguins are found at the South Pole and why does everyone get it wrong, and he only has to interject a few words here and there to keep her going.

Of course, with all the staring he’s doing, it’s inevitable that he’d get caught. He doesn’t look away fast enough when the elf turns in his direction and they lock eyes for an electric instant. He could swear that the elf’s—ok, he’s not actually an elf, clearly—the guy’s eyes widen and he looks briefly stunned, and Napoleon has to wonder if they’ve met before, or if he accidentally did something wronged him. He’s pretty sure he’d remember running into this guy before, though. The expression is gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by an even surlier scowl, which doesn’t budge even when the finally get to the front of the line and Napoleon tries his most winning smile.

“Has anyone ever told you that your expression suggests that you might prefer being tortured with a hot poker?” Napoleon asks casually.

The guy cocks an eyebrow at him. “Not in so many words,” he says in an unexpected Russian accent.

“I just figured they’d be bigger on enforced merriment here.”

“Not my usual station,” the elf grunts. “I am only here because Nutmeg is sick today. Usually I work photo elf.”

“So you’re a photographer?” Napoleon surmises, and receives a somewhat indistinct noise that he takes as confirmation. “Are you any good?”

“Better than guy working there today,” he mutters under his breath.

“That’s a shame,” Napoleon says honestly. “So Nutmeg, huh? That a friend of yours?” Another grunt. “What’s your name?” “Santa will see you now,” the elf says abruptly instead of answering the question, gesturing down the path through the fake snow, and Napoleon has no choice but to follow along as Cat tugs him excitedly away toward the small, gingerbread-esque cottage that apparently contains Santa Claus.

That’s pretty much that, or so he thinks, until about a week later when Cat comes bursting into his office in a whirlwind of gold paint and glitter. Today she’s wearing fairy wings, a cowboy hat, an empty gun holster slung around her tiny hips, and an expression that says she’s already had too much sugar.

“Solosolosolo,” she gasps as she launches herself into his lap, looping her arms around his neck and no doubt smearing him with red and green glitter. “Can we go visit Santa again??”

“Uh,” Napoleon starts, before Sanders appears in the doorway a moment later.

“Catherine, I already told you Solo is too busy,” he growls.

“But I forgot to tell him! He won’t know!” Cat exclaims with a pout that could melt the most cold-hearted man. Too bad Napoleon is pretty sure Sanders lacks a heart entirely.

“I don’t mind,” Napoleon offers, probably a little too quickly.

Sanders looks at him like he’s suddenly doubting Napoleon’s sanity, which is possibly fair. Another hour in that line surrounded by screaming children and their even more odious parents would be enough to drive anyone mad. Except, he supposes, the elves that work there, or maybe they’re all a little crazy too. All Napoleon knows is that this might be his only chance to see the hot elf again, if he’s even working today. It probably says something unflattering about him that he’s willing to wait an hour in that line to find out.

This time when they get to the front, just before Santa’s house, there’s a different elf directing guests. She’s petite, like most of the other elves save the absurdly tall hot one, with long brown hair that falls into loose curls where it’s tucked into a low pony tail and draped over one shoulder. She’s smiling, but she doesn’t have the same forced rictus grin that many of the other elves have. A normal level of holiday cheer, which looks downright sedate at SantaLand.

“Are you Nutmeg?” Napoleon asks.

The elf tips her head in confusion, but nods. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“We were here last week,” Napoleon explains. “You were out sick and there was a very large man— er, elf in your place here.

“Oh!” she says, her eyes widening in sudden comprehension as she looks between the two of them. “It’s you.”

“Sorry, what about us?”

“Nothing,” Nutmeg says quickly, but then a sly smile curls onto her lips. “Snowball is photo elf today. He’ll be inside with Santa.”

“Snowball?” Napoleon echoes, unable to contain his disbelief. Honestly any elf name would be absurd for this guy, but somehow that one is even more surprising.

“He didn’t tell you?”

Napoleon huffs a laugh. “No, he neglected to mention it.”

“Mm, well you can go on in. Enjoy your visit with Santa,” Nutmeg tells Cat.

Snowball (Christ, what Napoleon wouldn’t give to know his real name) is indeed inside the house with Santa, and he greets them with startled recognition when they enter. As it had been last time, Santa’s house is cozy, featuring a decorated Christmas tree, wrapped gifts, and a fake fireplace in addition to Santa himself perched on his throne-like chair.

“Hello again,” Snowball says to Cat, ignoring Napoleon as he crouches down a bit. Not that it helps much. “Back so soon?”

“I forgot to tell Santa something and Dad said we could come,” Cat tells him.

Snowball’s eyes flicker up to Napoleon for a brief instant. “That’s nice of him.”

“I guess,” she allows, a little unwillingly, and Napoleon has to bite back a laugh. Snowball doesn’t appear what to make of it.

“I like your outfit today. A cowgirl?”

“Thanks!” Cat says, preening. “It’s supposed to have fairy wings but they don’t fit under my coat.”

Cat just about sprints over to Santa, then, who helps her up onto his lap, and they start discussing all the presents that she forgot to list off last time. Napoleon thinks maybe this will be a chance to talk with Snowball for a minute before the photo is ready, but the elf busies himself fussing with the camera and generally trying to be as unavailable as possible. Not that that’s very effective at putting Napoleon off.

“How’s your day been, Snowball?” Napoleon asks as he leans one elbow against the fireplace mantle near the elf, grinning at the way his eyes narrow at the name. “Nutmeg told me.”

“Of course she did,” Snowball mutters under his breath and does not turn away from his camera. In the quiet of Santa’s cottage, Napoleon can hear the bells attached to his costume jingle slightly as he shifts. “My day is fine. Better when I am not interrupted by handsome cowboys,” he says a little louder, then suddenly looks like he wishes he hadn’t.

Napoleon elects to leave the ‘handsome’ part alone, though he doesn’t really want to. “Cowboy?” Snowball shrugs. “She is cowgirl. Makes you cowboy, no?”

“I suppose so,” Napoleon allows. Then he smirks. “Forgot my fairy wings at home, though.”

“Now let’s get a photo, shall we?” Santa announces, and then the pictures are being taken and Napoleon and Cat are ushered quickly toward the exit before the next guest arrives, and once again, Napoleon is left sorely wanting.

It’s only a few days later, though, when Napoleon and Cat are at Macy’s again, this time to buy something for a toy donation drive at her school. Napoleon had volunteered, but not because it would take them by SantaLand again; Sanders had given him his platinum card and the go ahead to buy something “suitable” for the donation, so Napoleon was going to make sure some poor kid’s Christmas was a good one.

But then, when they’re done shopping, they walk by the SantaLand entrance where the sign proclaims only a 15 minute wait to see Santa, and Cat gives him a look that is far too sly on her six-year-old face.

“Look, Solo! Santa’s not busy. Maybe we can see him again?”

“What other wishes could you have to tell him about, hm?”

“Not for me,” she insists. “But maybe he hasn’t heard about the wishes from the other kids? The ones that don’t have a lot of toys?”

Napoleon is momentarily overcome with a wave of emotion, and he has to clear the knot that seems to have become lodged in his throat. “How’d you get to be such a good kid?” he asks, but Cat just looks up at him with her brow furrowed in confusion. “Ok, yeah. Let’s go.”

“And also maybe Snowball will be there, and you can say hi,” she adds, grinning up at him. That one, he chooses not to acknowledge.

Nutmeg apparently isn’t working the entrance to Santa’s house today, but Snowball is inside with the camera, and Napoleon can’t really suppress his delight at seeing him again. He sidles over once Cat is settled on Santa’s lap and talking about the wishes that the less fortunate kids had sent in to the program at her school, and although Snowball rolls his eyes there is a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You were right about that other guy, the first time we came,” Napoleon tells him. “The photos from our second visit were much better.”

Snowball clearly tries not to look pleased by the compliment, but he fails. “And yet you are back again.”

“We were in the area, and she wanted to come,” Napoleon says with a shrug.

“And her father has nothing better to do than stand in line at SantaLand?” Snowball asks pointedly.

“Oh no, he definitely does,” Napoleon chuckles. “Well, he thinks he does. That’s why he sends me.” Snowball looks powerfully confused now, frowning deeply, and Napoleon suddenly realizes that he must have assumed Cat was his child. “Her father is my boss,” he explains, and does not miss the way that Snowball appears to look relieved before he schools his face back to something more neutral. “And no, I’m not paid to be a nanny. Not officially, anyway.”

“That sounds… questionable.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Napoleon agrees. “I don’t really mind, though. She’s a good kid.”

Snowball stares at Cat for a minute, who is chattering away about something else entirely now—she’s six, give her a break—then looks back at Napoleon with a hard-to-read expression on his face. “She is. You are good with her,” he says softly.

“I try,” Napoleon allows, though he can’t deny the warmth he feels inside at that. “Someone should in her life.”

“Solo! You should be in the photo this time!” Cat calls out to him, and of course he can’t say no to that. He kneels next to Santa on the other side of her for the pictures, and puts his own address in for the delivery when he purchases the prints at the exit.

The next time they end up at SantaLand is entirely his fault. Of course he is only too happy to use Cat as an excuse, but he’s the one who makes the suggestion, because the end of the holiday season is fast approaching had he’s not sure what’s going to happen when SantaLand disappears and takes Snowball with it. Obviously he needs to grow a pair and ask the man out already, but it’s hard to do when all their interactions are limited to less than two minutes long. SantaLand is quiet again, almost peaceful, which is not something he’d ever thought he’d be able to say about that place, and they’re meandering through the maze of winter delights when they unexpectedly run into both Nutmeg and Snowball, walking together.

They’re clearly friends, good friends, by the way that Snowball is smiling at her, and Napoleon abruptly feels his heart sink. Look, he’s not going to deny that he assumed that there wouldn’t be many straight men willing to don an elf costume for the holidays, but he hadn’t really let himself consider that Snowball might be taken regardless. It’s always a possibility, of course, but he kinda thought they had something that last time. A spark, maybe.

Snowball and Nutmeg come to a halt when they see Napoleon and Cat walking toward them, and Nutmeg elbows Snowball in the side, grinning up at him before she turns back toward them. “I hear you just can’t stay away,” she says to Cat as she crouches down in front of her. “Here to see Santa again?”

“Not really,” Cat answers brightly, and Napoleon is startled enough that he’s not fast enough to stop what comes next. “Solo wanted to see Snowball.” Then she leans closer to Nutmeg’s ear and stage whispers with a hand next to her mouth, not at all quietly, “I think he likes him.”

Nutmeg looks unexpectedly delighted by this, so maybe they’re not together after all. “Is that so?” she asks Cat, who nods vigorously. Napoleon would very much like to disappear into the fake snowbank behind him; his only consolation his how very pink Snowball’s face has gone. Nutmeg grins up at him for a second before returning her attention to Cat. “Hey, what do you say we let these two talk a bit? Would you like to see how the mechanical reindeer work?”

“Yeah!” Cat cheers, then looks hopefully up at Solo. “Can I? Can I, please?”

One part of him is saying that he really shouldn’t let his boss’s kid run off with a stranger, but then again, a SantaLand elf is probably a reasonably safe bet. Something of his reluctance must show on his face, because Nutmeg stands to address him. “I’ll look after her, and we won’t be far.”

“Ok,” he agrees, then crouches down to get eye-level with Cat. “You be good, and hold Nutmeg’s hand the whole for me, ok? No running off because you see something cool, young lady.”

“I promise,” Cat says solemnly.

Nutmeg holds out her hand for Cat to take, and together they walk off toward the reindeer diorama, leaving Napoleon and Snowball wholly unsupervised by children or Santas or anyone else for the first time ever. Napoleon would like to say he had something smooth and charming prepared for this moment, but he really figured he’d just wing it, and now he’s at a bit of a loss given that Snowball’s pretty much seen all his cards at this point.

“Was it true?” Snowball asks, a little tentatively. “What she said. About you wanting to come see me.”

“Yeah,” Napoleon admits, huffing a slightly embarrassed laugh. “Thought it’d be pretty obvious by now.” Then he takes a deep breath and decides to just go for it. “Look, you’re smokin’ hot even in an elf costume that should be ridiculous, and you seem like the kind of person I’d like to get to know better. Starting with your real name.”

Snowball smiles at that, blushing again. “It’s Illya.”

“Nice to meet you, Illya,” Napoleon says, grinning back. “I’m Napoleon, but no one calls me that.

“I can see why,” Illya teases.

“Hey, you should talk, Snowball,” Napoleon retorts, and they both laugh. Feeling buoyed, Napoleon fishes his cell phone out of his pocket and opens a blank contact. After a moment’s hesitation, he types ‘❄️⚾️ (Illya)’ at the top, then holds it out toward the other man. “So do you think I could get your number? I’d love to take you to dinner, if you’re interested?”

“I would like that very much, Cowboy,” Illya says with a smile full of promise.

Later, when Cat proclaims that she simply must see Santa a mere two days before Christmas, Napoleon doesn’t hesitate to call in his new connections. Instead of standing in what is a truly staggering line on Christmas Eve eve, Illya meets them at the side entrance to SantaLand and ushers them into a much shorter VIP line that Napoleon had no idea even existed. If he had, he might have made his move a lot earlier. Cat agrees to stand with Nutmeg—Gaby, he’s since learned—for a minute while Napoleon drags his boyfriend off behind a styrofoam candy cane and kisses the living daylights out of him, leaving him with spots of red high on the apples of his cheeks that really look quite festive.

“Spend Christmas day with me?” Napoleon asks; he’s wanted to for the last week, but had never really been able to bring himself to do it. It still seems so early for things like that. Illya nods and gives him a brilliant grin before kissing him again, though, and Napoleon knows, without a doubt, that this will be his best Christmas ever.

#napollya #napoleon x illya #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #gaby teller #tmfu #the man from u.n.c.l.e. #the man from uncle #tmfu fic #napollya fic #my fic #yes napoleon has accidentally adopted a small girl child what of it #illya in an elf costume is a gift #1 million words challenge

[silver-screen-divas]

Happy 89th birthday to Nancy Kovack!

Kovack played the female lead, bad girl Sophie Renault, opposite Mike Henry in “Tarzan and the Valley of Gold” (1966).

Born Nancy Diane Kovach on March 11, 1935, in Flint, Michigan, she attended the University of Michigan and worked as a radio announcer while winning a series of beauty contests. Kovack then moved to New York, where she worked as one of Jackie Gleason’s “Glea Girls” and served as a presenter on “Beat the Clock”, and as an anchorwoman on “Today” and for “The Dave Garroway Show”, while earning extra money through modeling and commercials.

A role on Broadway in “The Disenchanted” (1958-59) led to a Columbia Pictures contract, and her film debut, “Strangers When We Meet” (1960). Additional big-screen credits include “Cry for Happy” (1960), “The Wild Westerners” (1962), “Diary of a Madman” (1963), “Jason and the Argonauts” (1963), “The Outlaws Is Coming” (1965), “Sylvia” (1965), “The Great Sioux Massacre” (1965), “Frankie and Johnny” (1966), “The Silencers” (1966), “Enter Laughing” (1967), and “Marooned” (1969). On television, she appeared in popular series like “12 O’Clock High,” “Burke’s Law,” “I Dream of Jeannie,” “Batman,” “Perry Mason,” “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.,” “I Spy,” “Star Trek,” “The F.B.I.,” “Family Affair,” “Get Smart,” “Bewitched,” “Mannix,” “Hawaii Five-O,” “Get Smart,” “Bronk,” and “Cannon.”

Following her marriage to Los Angeles and New York Philharmonic Orchestra conductor Zubin Mehta, Kovack retired from acting.

#Nancy Kovack #beautiful #beauty #actress #hollywood #star #classic #diva #classic hollywood #vintage

[ellethespaceunicorn]

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

Title: I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Reader

Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: Napoleon wines and dines.

Warnings: barely any 60s references so if you were looking for that I'm sorry, incorrect table manners, a little bit of Daddy kink, unprotected p-in-v because these are fictional characters

A/N: The title is taken from the song “I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl” by Nina Simone. Literally the naughtiest and sweetest title at the exact same time. A very sexy song, if you have never heard it, do yourself a favor!!! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

“What is a lovely little rose like you doing all alone in a place like this?” 

The voice startles you as you sip your espresso at the corner cafe. Of course, being alone in a cafe had its downsides. This wasn’t the first time you were approached here. This wasn’t the first time you were approached today, even. You look up to see who the voice belongs to and you almost drop your teeny cup.

The jawline alone had your panties in a cinch. But the eyes, those are what draw you in. The blue of his eyes was like out of a painting, and you could hardly say you’d ever seen anyone with a tiny golden-brown spot in their left eye. Was that his only flaw? From here, it appeared so. The suit he wore was perfectly tailored. His shoes were shiny like a new penny. You were shaken from your ogling by his voice again.

“Have I passed inspection, Miss…?” You give your name and he tests it out on his tongue. “A beautiful name for a beautiful rose,” With a flick of his wrist, a gorgeous and very real rose appears in his hands and he hands it to you.

You sputter out a laugh as you reach for the rose. He tilts his head as he watches you lift the flower to your nose, inhaling its sweet scent. He walks around the table and sits across from you, almost daring you to tell him to get lost. But, of course, you don’t. You are delighted to see where this may lead.

“So, what is a man dressed so well doing talking to a girl like me? Surely, you must be on your way to some type of important, or at least, fancy meeting?” You sit back, eyeing the man whose name you still haven’t caught.

“I’ll let you in a little secret. I’ve seen you here before. I know you go to the local college and after class, you like to stop here for an espresso before boarding a train back to wherever it is that you live. You’ll be happy to know I have not followed you back to your home. But, sometimes you get a sweet treat. A cinnamon roll on Mondays, perhaps a cherry and cheese danish on Wednesdays, but on Fridays? You spring for something devilish.” He ends his sentence just as your slice of devil’s food cake is set in front of you by the waiter.

“You really have been watching me. A girl with a different head on her shoulders may be nervous knowing she’s being watched. But, you don’t scare me,” you smile at him and start to dig into your cake, “If anything, I’d love to know why you find me so interesting. I mean, there are girls here with shorter skirts than mine.”

“The skirt wasn’t exactly what I was after,” his eyes linger on your mouth as your fork slowly glides back out of it, “Company. That’s mostly what I’m after. Your company. Not theirs.”

“I don’t even know your name, Mr…” You eagerly wait to hear the mysterious man’s name.

“I’ll give you my name, but I’ll need a promise that I may cook you dinner. No dinner, no name. And we act like this little conversation never happened,” he licks his lips, watching you watching him, “So, what do you say, my little rose? Will I introduce myself or will I walk off, doomed to enjoy dinner alone?”

You set down your fork, suddenly uninterested in the last bite of your cake. But instead of pushing the plate to the side, you run your pointer finger through a bit of the icing left behind. Raising your hand and pushing your chair back, you saunter over to the man’s chair. Sitting in his lap, much to the chagrin of the other couples on the terrace. You wipe the icing on his bottom lip. Leaning in while keeping eye contact, you lick away the chocolate until you take his bottom lip between your teeth. His eyes close for but a second and the slightest grunt escapes between his lips and into your mouth.

“I believe I’ve made my intentions clear but I’ll make sure they are crystal. I’m not some delicate flower, I can handle myself. And as handsome and mysterious as you are, if you try anything I don’t feel comfortable with, I’ll handle you as well. We have an understanding, I presume?” 

“You presume correctly. And please, I didn’t call you a poppy or a tulip. You’re a rose. A beautiful flower, but the thorns are treacherous. I’ll make sure you keep those at bay.”

“You owe me a name, pretty boy.” You insist, adjusting your seating in his lap and feeling a hefty bulge underneath you.

“Napoleon Solo.”

“Let’s go, then, Napoleon. I’m famished and I could use something a bit more substantial than that tiny slice of cake.”

Napoleon rises, his hands on your hips as he sets you on your feet. He waits for you to pick up your belongings, walks around the table, and grabs your hand to lead you off the terrace. He walks you to his car, opening the door for you to get in. This was your last chance to change your mind, but, you were having way too much fun.

You ride to his apartment building, and a valet takes the keys to his car before he opens the door for you to exit. A swanky place where it looks like the only people who can afford to stay here must have Esquire or some kind of title attached to their name. You decide to toss caution to the wind because it isn’t like you are staying here. It’s Napoleon who is, and you are is his guest.

You take the elevator up, making out with the tall and gorgeous stranger. The elevator rises as well as his hand up your skirt. Just as his hand reaches the top of your thigh, the elevator signals your arrival on the fourth floor. Napoleon takes your hand and leads you to Apartment 412. He unlocks the door and lets you enter first.

“So, my little rose, I was thinking for dinner I will make us Beef Bourguignon. And for dessert, what say we make it up as we go along?”

“As long as you don’t expect me to do all the cooking, I’m happy to sit back and eat and be merry, Napoleon.”

“Perfect, my little rose. Feel free to make yourself a drink, and do turn on some music. I do better with a bit of background noise.” 

You busy yourself with making an Old Fashioned, finding everything at your fingertips and ready to go. You take a sip and groan inwardly as the bourbon warms your insides. You walk from the little makeshift bar into the kitchen and offer Napoleon a sip. He applauds your drink-making skills and ushers you back out to the record player as he dons an apron and begins to cook.  

You busy yourself with looking at records while soon the smells of sauteed beef reach your nostrils. You only refresh your drink once while listening to Nina Simone Sing the Blues. Her dulcet tones woo you as the bourbon in your drink loosens you up. You don’t notice that you are being watched as Napoleon walks over and fixes himself a White Russian.

He watches as you sway and sing along with Nina. It’s only a matter of time before the timer in the kitchen sounds and he leaves you to your enjoyment of the music. He makes your plates, sets the table, and lights the few candles that sit therein. He pours you both a glass of pinot noir. His last step is to come and beckon you to your dinner. He does so by sidling up behind you and placing his hands gently on your shoulders as his lips dip down to your ears.

“Dinner’s ready, my little rose.” He takes your hand and leads you to the table, pulling your chair out for you in a gesture that wasn’t necessary but is quite romantic. If you weren’t already a bit light-headed from the Old Fashioned, that would have done it!

“Napoleon, this smells amazing. Are you sure you didn’t have some minions in the kitchen helping you to prepare this?”

“I promise, it was just me. Try it, tell me if it needs anything.”

You take a bite of the aromatic beef stew and it melts in your mouth. You can’t exactly help the satisfied groan that escapes your lips, much to the enjoyment of Napoleon.

“I take it you like it then?” The smug smile looks good on him, damn that man.

“Oh, I like it, Mr. Solo. You sure know your way to this woman’s heart. And that is through her stomach.”

He raises his glass of wine, and you raise yours as well. “To my little rose, may she only leave here satisfied. In every which way she chooses to be.”

You clink your glass against his and take a sip, knowing full well that you are going to sleep with this man before the night is over. Or at least, you hope to. You’d like to see what his face looks like in the throes of passion. And there is nothing sexier than a man who knows how to engage all of your senses in one meal.

You finish dinner and wipe your mouth, feeling for all the world like a stuffed pig. You were happy and you were tipsy and you wanted Napoleon to know just how grateful you were. But weren’t you promised dessert?

“So, dessert then?” You ask. 

“You stay seated, I’ll get these out of the way before we start on dessert.” Napoleon wipes his own mouth and comes to collect your plates and take them to the kitchen. When he comes back to the table, he easily pulls your chair back and lifts you easily onto the dining room table. At your look of confusion, he smirks yet again. “Did I not tell you that I would be enjoying you as dessert, my little rose?”

“No, I don’t believe you mentioned that. But, I do believe we both will enjoy that. Do your worst,  Mr. Solo.” You position your thighs for Napoleon to remove your panties. He sits in your chair, pulling himself up to the table and setting your legs over his shoulders. 

He kisses your thighs slowly until you are whimpering for him to take you out of your misery. He obliges by pulling your ass to the very edge of the table and using the flat of his tongue to lick a strip up your sex. An inhuman sound exits your mouth and you have absolutely no fucks to give at this point. 

“You taste like Heaven, my little rose,” he kisses your swollen nub and looks up at you, “but how do you feel?” He uses a single finger to circle your button a couple of times before drawing a line to your entrance. He enters your core slowly and his finger is a perfect fit. Not too much, not too little. Just enough to start to open you up. He starts to kiss and suck at your clit until your hand finds purchase in his chestnut locks. He lets you pull him down into your pussy, savoring every little spasm of your canal. 

Before long, a second and a third finger join the first and your moans bounce off of the walls. With one curve of his fingers, he finds your inner bundle of nerves and you reward him with a squeezing of your cunt and the melody of your orgasm. He licks up every drop of your nectar off you, and as he pulls out his fingers, he sucks them dry as well.

He stands, unbuttoning his slacks and fisting his cock while looking at your sweet blissed-out little face. “Can my little rose take some more dessert?”

“Yes, Daddy, please?” You whine, wrapping your legs around Napoleon’s waist and drawing him closer.

“That’s my good little rose,” he praised, lining himself up and entering you swiftly, “Ohhhhh, you take me so well. Best dessert I’ve ever had.”

He leans down to kiss you as he pulls out slightly and slams back in, swallowing your moans. Holding your face in his hands, he begins a steady rhythm inside you and hits your spots as if you had created his dick in a lab in some odd science experiment.

Soon, he drags orgasm after orgasm out of you until all you can say is Daddy and Yes. An endless stream of nonsensical noises comes out as well, but Napoleon is all too happy to commit those to memory while not commenting on them. He just continues to pound into you mercilessly, chasing his own release now that your juices cover the front of his slacks.

“Are you ready for Daddy to fill you?” He asks, a bruising hold on your hips as he plows into you.

“Yes, Daddy, yes!” You gasp, tears falling down your cheeks as you are overstimulated.

“Fuuuuuck, such a good little rose!” He exclaims as his hips settle flush against yours. 

You can feel every twitch of his dick as he empties inside you. You watch as the sweat from his brow drips down his temple as his eyes close. You hear his breathing pick up as he tries to steady himself. The heady scent of sex in the air intoxicates you. You grab him by the tie and pull him down to kiss you. All five senses are ablaze with Napoleon Solo.

Your hand through his hair is what allows him the strength to open his eyes again. He looks at you as though you hung the moon. He remains inside you as he slots his lips against yours before resting in the crook of your neck.

“Gotta love a man that cooks. You can always stuff me twice.” You laugh, not being able to stop yourself from accidentally pushing Napoleon out of you.

“Really? A joke right now?” He laughs, standing to his full height and looking down to see his spend leaking out of you.

“I couldn’t help myself, Mr. Solo. It just…came to me.”

“I bet, my little rose.” He helps you down from the table and ushers you to the bathroom as he cleans the rest of the table up.

You clean yourself up and meet Napoleon back in the living room as he sits on the couch. You enjoy listening to some more music and having a few more drinks with him, forgetting all about your train home. 

You wanted a little sugar in your bowl, after all. And you got it and then some. This man was sweet enough to give you cavities ten times over and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

[@mayloma @littlefreya I tagged you both because of the reblogs earlier lol]

**Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list and for what plz  😁**

#henry cavill #henry cavill characters #napoleon solo #napoleon solo x reader #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #napoleon solo fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #napoleon solo fanfiction #the man from uncle fanfic #the man from uncle fanfiction #napoleon solo fic #the man from uncle #i want a little sugar in my bowl

[the-meme-from-uncle]

Today is 7 years since I first watched The Girl from U.N.C.L.E.

No other show has ever managed to surpass it as my favourite in all that time - long may it reign.

#the girl from uncle #april dancer #mark slate #gfu #the girl from u.n.c.l.e. #my art #fanart #art #digital art #artists on tumblr #stefanie powers #noel harrison #mfu #1960s tv #spies

[banemmanan]

U.N.C.L.E. statistics graphs

Freedom pie charts edition

Part 3 of 3

[part 1] * [part 2]

All Man from U.N.C.L.E. data was compiled by @commander-kiranerys :

Series 1 * Series 2 * Series 3 * Series 4

Girl from U.N.C.L.E. data was compiled by myself and my sister:

* GFU *

Original graphs created by commander-kiranerys:

* :1: * :2: * :3: * :4: *

(more info under the cut)

Disclaimer:

As you can see from the data attributes, the mfu and gfu stats have been compiled by two different people. As such, results should be taken with a grain of salt as our views on what exactly constitutes 'torture' or a 'failed escape' may vary.

-----

So I made these only because when looking at the first graphs post, I mentioned it wasn't super clear on numbers alone exactly how the results compared on raw numbers because actually thos numbers themselves are reliant on the number of times that they were captured in the first place. So here are a batch of pie charts in order to get some individual percentages on escapes vs rescues that are more easily comparable. We can now establish once and for all which character is in fact the most distressed damsel.

These results are compiled using only successful escapes and rescues. I added the results for the character's individual escapes or rescues with those from the 'together' category, to get the full freedom experience. I also included a series total for Napoleon and Illya to get an idea of how they compare overall.

As mentioned in that first statistics post, this is largely to establish whether the accusation of April being a "damsel in distresss" is justified or not. Personally, I believe that this proves that she isn't. As we can clearly see here, not only does she escape more often than she needs rescuing, but also, both Napoleon and Illya in one season each do in fact need rescuing more than they manage to escape. Not only that, but when viewing the series total, April and Mark are actually slightly more competent in the escape department as a team than Napoleon and Illya are. Clearly more competent than fandom will have you believe.

-----

Well, that's me finally done with these statistics posts! (Or am I? 👀) As usual, I hope you find them useful or at least interesting and I'd love to discuss any of these results with people. If you have any specific statistics that you'd like me to compile from the Girl from U.N.C.L.E. then I would be more than happy to oblige (any excuse to watch the series for the 257th time lmao) just drop me a message!

#the man from uncle #the girl from uncle #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #april dancer #mark slate #mfu #gfu #the man from u.n.c.l.e. #the girl from u.n.c.l.e. #muncle stats #gfu stats #robert vaughn #david mccallum #stefanie powers #noel harrison #my post #statistics #1960s tv #spies

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

a list of some spring movies/series 🌷

spring is here!! and so is your friendly neighbourhood little organisation freak of a goblin to give you a list of some spring movies and series. as always, just close your eyes and point somewhere on this little list, or even put the numbers in a generator and go with whatever the result is ♡

summer | autumn | winter

🐝 ‧₊˚ ⋅ movies ⋅˚₊‧

mary poppins (1964)

the sound of music (1965)

aristocats (1970)

alla vi barn i bullerbyn (1986)

my neighbour totoro (1988)

kiki (1989)

a league of their own (1992)

the secret garden (1993)

pride and prejudice (1995/2005)

whisper of the heart (1995)

clueless (1995)

my best friend’s wedding (1997)

parent trap (1998)

10 things i hate about you (1999)

notting hill (1999)

she's all that (1999)

but i’m a cheerleader (1999)

bring it on (2000)

miss congeniality (2000)

spiritied away (2001)

the wedding planner (2001)

legally blonde (2001)

princess diaries (2001 + 2004)

spy kids (2001-2003)

maid in manhatten (2002)

bend it like beckham (2002)

tuck everlasting (2002)

school of rock (2003)

how to lose a guy in 10 days (2003)

something’s gotta give (2003)

13 going on 30 (2004)

finding neverland (2004)

howl’s moving castle (2004)

saving face (2004)

the notebook (2004)

imagine me and you (2005)

nanny mcphee (2005)

penelope (2006)

miss potter (2006)

step up (2006)

she’s the man (2006)

bridge to terabithia (2007)

enchanted (2007)

atonement (2007)

stardust (2007)

ps i love you (2007)

wild child (2008)

made of honour (2008)

ondine (2009)

bride wars (2009)

valentine’s day (2010)

tangled (2010)

leap year (2010)

easy a (2010)

from up on poppy hill (2011)

jane eyre (2011)

crazy, stupid, love (2011)

what to expect when you’re expecting (2012)

remember sunday (2013)

saving mr banks (2013)

about time (2013)

now you see me (2013 + 2016)

love, rosie (2014)

testament of youth (2014)

kingsman (2014-)

paddington (2014 + 2017)

far from the madding crowd (2015)

burnt (2015)

brooklyn (2015)

cinderella (2015)

the man from u.n.c.l.e. (2015)

lady chatterley's lover (2015/2022)

creed franchise (2015-2023)

me before you (2016)

mother’s day (2016)

this beautiful fantastic (2016)

the light between oceans (2016)

paterson (2016)

how to be single (2016)

hidden figures (2016)

gifted (2017)

dunkirk (2017)

ocean’s eight (2018)

life itself (2018)

peter rabbit (2018)

christopher robin (2018)

tomb raider (2018)

set it up (2018)

crazy rich asians (2018)

spider-verse movies (2018-)

1917 (2019)

the art of racing in the rain (2019)

can you keep a secret? (2019)

booksmart (2019)

someone great (2019)

endings, beginnings (2019)

emma (2020)

enola holms (2020-)

the last letter from your lover (2021)

the world to come (2021)

🌼 ‧₊˚ ⋅ series ⋅˚₊‧

little house on the prairie (1974-1983)

moomin valley (1990-1992)

greys anatomy (2005-)

gossip girl (2007-2012)

skins (2007-2013)

the great british bake off (2010-)

new girl (2011-2018)

brooklyn nine-nine (2013-2021)

the fosters (2013-2018)

the 100 (2014-2020)

jane the virgin (2014-2019)

outlander (2014-)

grace and frankie (2015-2022)

poldark (2015-2019)

critical role (2015-)

howards end (2017)

girlboss (2017)

she's gotta have it (2017-2019)

the bold type (2017-2021)

mr. sunshine (2018)

queer eye (2018-)

crash landing into you (2019)

the witcher (2019-)

dickinson (2019-2021)

sex education (2019-2023)

bridgerton (2020-)

ted lasso (2020-2023)

nevertheless (2021)

the falcon and the winter soilder (2021)

flatshare (2022)

#lea speaks #• comfort if you need it • #movies #comfort movies #movie recommendation #studyblr #cottagecore #dark academia #cozycore #cosycore #hygge #naturecore #tv show recommendations #spring #spring aesthetic #spring movies #springcore #cottage core

[pulpsandcomics2]

The Girl From U.N.C.L.E.     April 1967

#spy stories #the girl from u.n.c.l.e.

[citizenscreen]

Stefanie Powers as 'April Dancer' in ‘The Girl from U.N.C.L.E.’ (1966-67, NBC)

#stefanie powers #the girl from uncle

[oldshowbiz]

The Girl From U.N.C.L.E.

#The Man From UNCLE #The Girl From UNCLE #television logos #secret agent craze

[alvadee]

my blorbo in girl from u.n.c.l.e.

#he had such a cartoon face #vb #alvadee's shit #sketch #alvadee art