#either Netflix is bitter and punishing their actors

[chirpsythismorning]

Nah bc why do I feel like Netflix and the st writers are beefing so hard rn bc of the strike that someone from the production leaked the casting for Linda Hamilton so that the reveal on Tudum would be super anticlimactic…

I also thought Chase Stokes was sort of random for a host, but considering OBX 4 literally just started filming days ago, it’s almost like they’re rewarding those that are being most loyal to Netflix 👀

[ceruleanmusings]

A Far Cry

Well, I’ve fallen into a new fandom and that is Cursed on Netflix. Which is a book written by Thomas Wheeler but since I’ve only seen the Netflix show this work is set in that universe. And, of course it is about the Weeping Monk because, bias for the actor aside, I loved his story arc.

That being said, I’m so nervous about writing for him so if you like this please reblog and let me know what you think! Either way I plan on writing more for him and the show because I enjoyed it a lot!

Also on (AO3) and (FFN)

Summary: As a boy, the only thing the Weeping Monk wanted to do was to make his father proud. His father has high expectations that he can't reach but he'll try anyway. No matter what happens when he fails.

Note: This is my take on what his childhood could have been like.

Triggers: Abuse, child abuse, hair pulling, whipping

-----

He blinked the sweat away from his tired, burning eyes and steadied his grip on the sword. It was much too heavy, and longer than one a boy such as he should be wielding. But Father said in no uncertain terms that he was to master the sword or else he was to forgo food for the night. He dragged a tongue across his dry, cracked lips, accepting the sting. It was a fleeting pain, one that couldn’t be compared to the pang of hunger curdling in his stomach. It had been days. He needed to succeed.

His fingers throbbed as they tightened around the hilt of the sword, his breaths evening from his body-wracking haggard pants. It was much too hot for a boy such as he to be out, pushing his body to new heights, his head covered by a thick hood. It scratched against his cheek and kept his breaths, hot and thick, trapped around his neck. Father told him to wear it, it was for his own good. Father only wanted what was best for him. Father wouldn’t steer him wrong.

“Again!” Father’s voice cracked through the silent woods.

All at once the man across from him, draped in the traditional clothing of his brothers, one of the other Red Paladins, rushed at him like a raging tide. The sword dragged against the ground behind the boy as he forced his tired, weak legs to move forward, to carry him, to do what Father asked of him. He had to make Father proud.

With a roaring cry, the Paladin towered over him, sword drawn, face twisted in a snarl. The boy looked up at him, into his eyes. Always into their eyes. It wasn’t the soft parts of the body that left people exposed, the boy had learned, it was the eyes. They were the key. They gave everything away: direction, intention, thoughts, weaknesses, truth. He would know, he’d become intimately aware of his reflection, marked from birth, since he was a young lad.

Grunting, the boy ducked away from the charging Paladin. The tip of his sword still dragged against the ground, slowing him down, but that was what he needed. The Paladin was much too fast, uneven, unbalanced. He took time to right himself in the space that the boy needed to become oriented and close in from behind. A swipe of his sword nearly knocked the boy off balance but, with gritted teeth, he held himself steady and watched his aim ring true as the tip of his blade caught the back of the Paladin’s robes.

The audible rip and tear of fabric burst into the quiet tree line, the tall and quiet spectators to the spar. The Paladin turned, charging again, rushing at the poor boy with a force of a bear that made the boy hesitate. Too slow. He brought his sword up, blocked an overhead chop, and allowed the follow through to carry his arms upwards by his ear. The fluidity of the Paladin’s follow-up strike came towards his side and he tensed, ready for the pain of the offending blow, for the result of his mistake, when the flat side of the blade smacked heavily against his hip.

The vibrations of metal on bone shot up and down his leg, a hollow thrumming of his defeat. Grunting, the boy fell to his knees, his sword landing a heavy thud on the ground. His dirty hands clasped his hip as the strange tremors settling down towards his foot, as if his nerves all became livewires at once.

Exhaustion weighed down his limbs and he slumped over, settled against the ground. His stomach screamed for food. The dirt beneath his cheek was cool on his heated, sweaty skin, and when he was yanked to his feet by a painful grip to his hair, little clumps dangled by the corner. His attempts to spit them away were futile.

“My son.” Father’s hot breath brushed against his cheek before a yank drew his head backwards. His eyes, heavy with marks beneath the lids, turned up towards the sky. The endless stretch of blue above that looked inviting, captivating, so close he could touch and dip his fingers into the smooth pool. He could reach out for help, for His Grace to come and give him a break. To allow him rest that eluded him so. And he stared and he hope and he called out as Father spoke, “You do not show improvement, my son. I have spent much time on you, and this is what you have to show? You are better than this. You will be better than this.”

Father’s fingers curled tighter in against the shafts of hair in his tight grip. Pops and rips sounded by the boy’s ears and he was sure a few strands had been pulled out, but he remained silent. He closed his eyes to the throbbing pain, the growing fire upon his head. He swallowed thickly, pushing down the lump that had risen in his throat at his father’s command. Yes, he would be better. He would do better. He would make Father proud. Because then Father would continue to protect him. Because then Father would love him.

The sticks and roots on the dirt floor bit at his hands and knees when he was thrown downwards. The boy, weak and frail, used the remaining strength he had to keep himself upright. He would not fall, not in front of his father. Not in front of the Paladin. He was strong. He had to be.

His fingers dug into the dirt, sifting through the loose earth that darkened with each dot of sweat that fell from his face. Plink, plink, plink, a solitary tune swallowed up beneath the canopy of tall trees huddled above him, judging. His fingers brushed against a ripped-up leaf; his finger took on a light green tinge. The boy sucked in a breath. No! This wasn’t supposed to happen! It was forbidden!

“Come,” Father ordered. The boy tensed at the bitter tone; the disgust wrapped up within that one word. His spine stiffened and he braced himself for the rough grab to his forearm by the Paladin. His head hung, defeat weighing down upon him as he was pulled to a nearby tree and shoved up against it. The rough bark scratched his chin; sweat or tears popped up on his lower rim, he didn’t want to put a name to his shame.

“Is this necessary?” the Paladin asked. The boy didn’t need to turn his head to see the question was directed at his father. It would remain unanswered. Yes, it was necessary, the boy filled in for him. He had failed. He needed to be punished. He needed to learn.

He needed to break.

Everything stilled. The trees didn’t sing, the birds in the distance, once so lively, were silenced. The boy held his breath, closed his eyes, and steeled his nerves. Time ticked by. The boy pushed a breath through his nose, sucked in another shaky breath and waited. And waited. And waited. He opened his eyes. Was this another test? Did he fail? Was this—?

Crack!

Fire licked up the boy’s back and his scream of pain ripped out of his throat, embedding straight into the bark by his mouth. Hot tears dripped down his cheeks, tracing the marks beneath his lower lashes like well-worn grooves.

He felt his skin splitting open as the whip withdrew, a throbbing, vicious slice rubbing from shoulder blade to hip. Wind kicked up, brushing against his back, like a hand dragging salt against the wound. His legs shook and his breaths hitched as he heard the familiar swoosh slicing through the air.

Crack!

Another hit to his back. He managed to swallow his scream this time. This following whip was a punishment for the first one, for being weak, for feeling too much, for allowing his pain to be so palpable. He closed his eyes again, the image of the tree bark hovering in the black space in front of him. He traced the grooves and the cracks of the bark, forced his mind away, settled deep within a forest to hide as another strike burned on his back.

And another. And another.

His teeth clenched, his nose scrunched, tears cut through the dirt smeared on his cheeks, blood rushed in his ears, and still he didn’t move away from the tree. That would be bad. He couldn’t be bad. He had to be good. He had to be perfect.

Then he heard it. The whistling of metal through the air. Wind shifted by his face. His eyes popped open and he threw himself away from the tree. Again, he found himself on the ground, crouching, reaching out his arms in front of himself, lowered his hand, placed his hands together as he prayed to His Grace above for guidance. For help. For a path.

He lifted his head, looked upwards, and gaped at the stretch of darkness looming above. He lowered his head again, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, tears dripping off his face. Plop, plop, plop. Behind him, he heard the vibration of a dagger nestled in the side of the tree, shaking due to the force of the strong throw.

Footsteps shuffled above him. Father’s shoes appeared at the tips of the boy’s fingers. The boy sighed, forcing his sobs to quiet. Everything would be okay. Father was here.

“It’s getting late,” Father said. “We must return home.” His feet turned. The boy moved to get up but a heavy push to his shoulder kept him down. He lowered his head further. The tip of his nose pressed into the dirt. His back throbbed. A worm dug into the ground by his eye.

“What about Weeper?”

Father was silent. Then. “Leave him be.”

The boy gasped. His body trembled. No, no this couldn’t be. Father…

“Father Carden, it is to be dark soon.”

“I said leave him!” Father barked. The boy, Weeper, winced at the disgust spat at him. Not unlike the actual glob of spit that Father aimed his way. It landed between his hands, in the triangle space left between his praying position. A mark against him. “He is to find his way back on his own.”

Weeper listened, still crouching, as Father and the Paladin walked away from him, their footsteps fading in the distance, leaving him alone once more.

[santamonicaroleplay]

❝ A SHORT LEASH AND A SHORT FUSE DON’T MATCH. ❞

NAME: Hunter Lowell GENDER/PRONOUNS: Male, He/Him DATE OF BIRTH: October, 1st 1991 BIRTH PLACE: Harrisburg, Pennsylvania CURRENT RESIDENCE: Santa Monica Pier/Ocean Avenue  OCCUPATION: Actor FACE CLAIM: Gregg Sulkin

BIOGRAPHY

trigger warnings: violence, death, mental health issues, drug use, lgbt+phobia

Growing up under the watch of Pastor Lowell was nothing short of a burden. The zealous preacher who was never at a loss for words or prayers to his flock of faithful was an entirely different man behind the closed doors of his home. Aloof, bitter, and extremely demanding, Roger Lowell never gave either his child, Hunter, or his wife, Karen, any rest in his pursuit of the sacred. With his holier-than-thou posture, Pastor Lowell was someone who had always attempted to control his household with an iron fist, often turning to arbitrary, severe punishments – which were more-often-than-not physical – when any one of his rules were infringed. Karen Lowell, on the other hand, was a great mother… Not that there was much she could do. But she would go as far as the short leashes Roger kept around their necks would allow, to give her child some semblance of what a normal childhood should have looked like.

That sweet, short-lasting illusion was quickly dismantled, though, after Karen died in an accident. At first, it was all heartbreak and fallen tears, misery shared in silence at the dinner table, between the two Lowell men. For a moment, it seemed as though the passing of Karen had brought the two closer together; another foolish illusion that, yet again, was rapidly dismantled. Pastor Lowell was quick to turn to his faith as a refuge, nose-diving into the word of the Almighty, thoroughly devoting himself to his services, and unsurprisingly falling back into his old habits. But Hunter found his own refuge, as well. The drama classes at school were a safe place where he could exude all his emotions without the fear of unjust judgment or punishments for his complicated feelings or for being who he was. There, he found a safe haven, a place to discover himself and grow, and soon enough, what started as a pastime became a passion. Unsurprisingly, those endeavors were all done stealthily as Pastor Lowell would never have approved of his son’s favored activity. Regardless of Roger’s stance, however, Hunter was wholeheartedly devoted to his acting, not only because he loved the feeling of going on stage and walking into someone else’s skin, but because the theater also helped him overcome the pain brought along by the loss of his mother and to navigate the turbulent years of adolescence.

Without Karen’s presence to ease the preacher man with her kind words and sweet gestures, Roger’s rules became more strict, his punishments became more relentless, and arguments between him and his son became more physical. However, as it usually happens with teenagers at the edge of their youth, the more rigid a parent’s constraints become, the stronger is their child’s willingness to rebel. Sneaking out soon became something he could do with his hands tied, missing services to hang out with his friends became a habit and, of course, heated arguments with his father subsequently became more usual than ever. But Hunter didn’t pay much mind to his father’s words, usually  sneaking out through the window – a few cuts and bruises bruises decorating his youthful skin – right after having been sent to his bedroom to ponder and pray.

It wouldn’t be long until Hunter and Roger Lowell’s strained relationship hit rock-bottom. It took something simple as a kiss, shared between Hunter and another male, and accidentally witnessed by his father, for the Pastor to turn his son’s life in that house of God into something hellish. The strength Hunter had built through years of facing his father’s severity hadn’t prepared him for what occurred afterward,  but the marks – both physical, and psychological – that he still carries, can attest to his survival instinct. Still, although he hadn’t been accustomed to receiving compliments from his father, being called “atrocious” and “a child of the devil” by a man who’d known him all his life definitely took a toll on him…

Gathering just the necessary – a couple of clean clothes, a photo of him and his mother, and the few hundred bucks he had saved – Hunter fled that same night. After crashing on some friends’s couches for while, not entirely certain of what to do, after all, he all he had was a high school diploma and about five hundred bucks to his name, Hunter decided to take a shot at his lifelong dream and hopped on a bus to Los Angeles. Bars and coffee houses were his main source of income for the first few months in the city of Angels until he finally found himself at the right place, at just the right time… Teen soaps were never his favored genre of entertainment, but he’d heard that those young actors had been making quite a lot of money from their thriller shows and romcoms, and so he figured acting on something you’re not particularly fond of is better than not acting at all, especially if it paid the bills and allowed him to live with a little more luxury than a lousy one-bedroom apartment with four roommates.

Although he had acted with a little more passion than the strictly necessary for that type of gig, Hunter had passed his audition to the lead role in a new CW drama with flying colors, and soon enough, his name became pretty important in the industry, headlining romcoms and teen-addressed thriller Netflix movies, having Hunter Lowell as part of the cast made anything pretty much an easy sell with the younger audiences. For a while, it was all wonders and excitement, expensive clothes, and fancy cars. But the amounts of zeros on his paychecks couldn’t afford what he was really passionate about. Hunter wanted projects he believed in, complex characters in complex storylines filled with emotion, passions, and fears. He enjoyed the money, of course, better than that, he needed it, but money had never been the reason he’d gone into acting…

Opting for more serious movies addressed at different audiences than what he was used to was a bold move which was not really well-received by his agent who, unsurprisingly, managed to pull some contractual strings to get Hunter back on the track he’d designed. With the million-dollar fines and compensations that would come, should he ditch the deal with his agent, there was no contractual way out for him. The heated arguments à la Roger Lowell that began to pop up, sometimes even escalating into physical brawls, were the obvious consequence, yet to no avail. In the end, Hunter would just end up leaving his office angry, or frustrated, or sad. A toxic combination of emotions that resounded back to his adolescence and awoke his dormant unresolved conflicts, which were better off silenced in some dark corner of his mind. His sexuality, his bitterness towards his father, the traumas of a childhood permeated by abuse, and the loss of his mother. All he had done all those past years was control those issues with some anti-depressants and eventual visits to a psychiatrist whenever he needed a refill for his stock. But with all those internal struggles emerging at full force and the frustration of being unable to take his career and his own life into whatever direction he wanted, his mental stability spiraled down a turbulent path.

Hunter had known alcohol and drugs from a young age, using both mostly out of spite for his father’s rigid stance towards them, but never before was he close to losing his grip when it came to those. Still, as nervous breakdowns began permeating his every night, when he would sit alone in his balcony and cry or punch at the walls for hours on end, became a thing of habit, he couldn’t help but seek the cheap, effortless refuge provided by drugs to ease his mind, more and more each time.

Until, one day, he was found unconscious at his home, the official diagnostic being that he had almost overdosed on his antidepressants, which of course, hadn’t been made public for the sake of his career, but was definitely speculated by many, especially after the news he had signed into rehab had leaked to the tabloids… There was no great damage to his career, especially since he’d made quite a quick recovery, returning home just two months after being admitted, smiling and waving sympathetically to the paparazzi who waited for his arrival just outside his apartment building. Some contracts were dropped here and there, but Hunter’s agent managed to maintain the most significant ones, subsequently managing to keep his short leash around his neck… Now, a few months after a scandal, a conflicted and frustrated Hunter finds himself at a crossroads, uncertain of who he is, who he wants to be, and which way to take to get there and to keep himself from spiraling again.

[daresplaining]

Iron Fist Season 2 Teaser Analysis

    The Marvel gods have answered our prayers-- we are getting Iron Fist Season 2 next! This makes sense for every possible reason: it directly follows up on Danny and Colleen’s appearances in Luke Cage Season 2 and Misty’s leap between the two shows, and it allows for all of the original Netflix shows to get second seasons before moving on to phase three. (The Punisher came late, so we’ll accept its second season coming after Daredevil’s third.) Danny’s story this season will be partly informed by Matt’s sacrifice, so it makes sense to tell it before Matt reappears. Plus, these characters are on the cusp of so many exciting things that waiting any longer for the second season would have been pure torture. Matt can stay “dead” for a little bit longer. He’ll be fine.  

    With that in mind, the Iron Fist panel at SDCC did its job perfectly, by giving us a lot of information... but also not much. It revealed that the show will air on September 7th, in keeping with the new schedule of three months between releases. It confirmed last year’s announcement that Misty will be taking her rightful place in the Iron Fist world (she debuted in Danny’s introductory series in the comics, and has been an Iron Fist character for most of her existence, so it’s about time!). It revealed that we will be getting a Steel Serpent plotline-- which we’d assumed, but is still really, really exciting. It revealed that Alice Eve will be playing-- of all people-- Typhoid Mary, who is a Daredevil character! And it revealed that Danny will be taking to the streets of New York for the first time as a real superhero. 

    This last revelation is the focus of the first teaser, which-- like most teasers-- gives us barely any information. But we’re still going to geek out about it. 

    It wouldn’t be a Marvel/Netflix trailer without an aerial shot of Manhattan... 

    The badassery of this teaser is offset by how adorable and non-threatening Danny’s shoes are-- which completely, 100% fits the Iron Fist tradition. 

    One detail we’ve always loved about Danny is that unlike many of Marvel’s street-level characters, he’s not really a NYC superhero (and we’ve discussed this before, but I’m going to discuss it again, because that’s how much it fascinates me). His primary city will always be K’un-Lun, and though he spends most of his time on Earth, K’un-Lun is where his heart lies. Even in modern comics, after all this time, he views his trips to K’un-Lun as journeys home. Thus, he has a very complicated relationship with New York City. He ends up stuck there under painful circumstances and has no choice but to try to build a life for himself there. In early Iron Fist comics an extreme distinction was made between the Iron Fist and Danny Rand identities; eight issues pass before we even see him take off his mask for the first time.

Danny: “For the past decade, I have been little more than a living weapon-- the pride of K’un Lun. Your world holds nothing but bitter memories for me and yet I cannot return to K’un Lun for nine years. The one man who knew how to enter the city at other than the appointed times... is dead.”

Lee: “What of the man named Daniel Rand, Iron Fist? Surely the world offers him something.”

Danny: “And who is this Daniel Rand, professor? I’ve never taken the time to find out, I fear.”

Colleen: “[...] Maybe it’s time you took off your mask and started finding out about that Rand fella. You might like him.”

Marvel Premiere #22 by Tony Isabella, Arvell Jones, and George Rouses

    This huge separation between Danny’s identities is a quirk of his very early appearances, and as later comics have dug deeper into his childhood in K’un-Lun, it has become diminished within the standard Iron Fist continuity. But the fact remains that Danny’s connection to NYC (as represented here by his Daniel Rand identity) is basically nonexistent when he first arrives on Earth, and is something that he builds up slowly over time. He finds a certain amount of appeal in New York City, mostly through the close friendships he forms there, but as the years pass he still feels like an outsider, caught between two worlds, longing to return to K’un-Lun. (Eventually, his relationship with K’un-Lun becomes complicated too... but that’s a topic for another post.) He becomes a New York hero out of necessity. 

    In the Netflix shows, we have witnessed the same process. Danny comes to New York in pursuit of what turns out to be revenge. He struggles through tremendous identity issues-- he tries to rediscover who he is as Danny Rand, and then as Iron Fist, and then tries to find a way to reconcile these separate identities. Then, when he tries to return home (with Colleen! We need to mention how cool that is), he discovers that something has happened to K’un-Lun. That mystery has informed all of his subsequent plotlines. He is convinced that K’un-Lun has been destroyed, and the burden of that perceived failure haunts him. However, in The Defenders the Hand seem to imply that the city is still there, and by Luke Cage Season 2 Danny seems to have reached that same conclusion, for reasons that remain unclear. We are desperate to find out the truth, because it’s such a mystery, and such an important part of Danny’s story. More to the point-- we need K’un-Lun to still be around. It has been destroyed several times in the comics, and it always comes back, but we need it in this story. It’s a great setting that needs to be explored further, and Danny’s role as the Iron Fist in K’un-Lun and his relationships there are hugely important. It sounds like we will be getting a lot of flashbacks to his childhood and training, particularly focused around his relationship with Davos, but we're hoping for some present-day K’un-Lun too. Returning to the city would allow him to redeem himself for his perceived failures, it would give him the opportunity for further training (as he has not yet reached his full potential as an Immortal Weapon), and it is-- or should be-- a necessary part of his finally coming full circle and cementing his role and identity as the Iron Fist (which would ideally result in his getting the costume too!). 

     But either way, what matters here is that Danny has, at least for the moment, adopted NYC as a new city to protect. In The Defenders, after his perceived failure, he latches on to New York as a second chance; he failed K’un-Lun, but he won’t fail this other city. This mission is cemented by Matt’s final words to him. As the Iron Fist on Earth, Danny needs a purpose and sense of direction, and Matt’s plea for him to protect New York gives him that. This ties into another facet of Danny that we love, which we’ve talked about before: his status as a “professional hero”. He’s not a superhero in the traditional sense, and this season we’re going to see him figuring out that career path. 

    The teaser centers around Danny interrupting what is either a standard back-alley mugging or some kind of gang violence. In the comics, Danny’s first big act as a superhero on the streets of New York is combatting the Golden Tigers, a Chinatown-based gang run by a mob boss named Robert Hao, a.k.a. Chaka. 

Danny: “--And if Chaka wants to know what’s happened to this month’s drug shipment, you tell him Iron Fist happened! And you tell him that this is only the beginning! I’m going to take his empire apart, bit by slimy bit-- until there’s nothing left! And then I’m going to take Chaka apart the same way!”

Iron Fist vol. 1 #10 by Chris Claremont, John Byrne, and Bonnie Wilford

    Danny works with A.D.A. Bill Hao (Chaka’s brother) and Colleen and Misty to take the gang down. He gets framed for murder (...again) partway through, but all-in-all, it’s not a bad superhero debut. If this season will be bringing in this type of street-level crimefighting, it’s possible the Golden Tigers could make an appearance. An orange tiger symbol has even appeared in some of the promotional material:

    (More on this image later...)

    During their SDCC appearances, the cast and crew spent a lot of time discussing this season’s stunt choreography. The new stunt coordinator, Clayton Barber, who also worked on Black Panther, explained that he was going for a “punk rock”, old-school kung fu vibe, and cited Jackie Chan’s work as a primary influence. The cast described being pushed to their physical limits (Alice Eve was apparently instructed to “change [her] relationship with pain” for her fights as Typhoid Mary), resulting in most of this season’s stunt-work being performed by the actors themselves. 

    So first of all... that sounds freaking hardcore, and kudos to everyone involved. We can’t wait to see all of this hard work in action. We loved the fights in Season 1, and if they’re going to be even better in Season 2, then whooo boy, we’re ready! And that’s as it should be. Iron Fist is a martial arts franchise moreso than any of the other shows, and so its fights should be the most technically impressive. Just this small taste of Danny kicking butt in the teaser has us really excited. 

    In the comics, early-on, Danny tried to have a secret identity for the sake of convenience. It’s never been as much of a thing for him as it has been for, say, Matt Murdock, and he hasn’t had an actual secret identity for a while now. But in this universe, he’s clearly not even bothering. While Iron Fist isn’t a big name in the NYC hero/villain world yet, in Luke Cage Season 2 we learned that Danny is starting to develop a reputation. Turk recognizes him on sight and mentions hearing about his run-in with the Triads. Clearly, that reputation will be growing significantly in this season of Iron Fist, and we’re eager to see how it will mesh with his already well-known civilian identity (which also isn’t nearly as much of a thing in the comics). “Rand Enterprises Co-Chair Has Magical Kung Fu Powers” sounds like a great headline, and Karen can have it for free. 

    Though of course, we’re expecting Danny to have his costume by the end of the season.

    This is a new logo! We liked last season’s a bit better-- it was more dynamic, and this one seems a little sparse. But it reflects differences in this season’s themes/tone, and it’s neat to see that kind of thing integrated into the show’s branding (we'd love for the other shows to do this too). While last’s season’s logo invoked K’un-Lun in its coloring, the background snow/sparks/smoke motif, the typeface, and the integration of the Shou-Lao symbol into the words themselves, this one is much starker, colder, utilitarian. It invokes New York City. One detail we particularly like is the fact that the “O” is still a stylized, extremely minimalist translation of the Shou-Lao symbol.   

    One last note: the Iron Fist Twitter account has been posting daily images of storefronts. These, along with the new logo and the neon motif used in the promos at SDCC, tie into the theme of Danny operating on the streets of New York. But more importantly, they’re accompanied by phrases that are most likely episode titles. Last season, the episodes were named after kung fu techniques (both real and comics-based). This season, they’re going right back to the source material and using the titles of various Iron Fist-relevant issues! "The Fury of Iron Fist”, for instance, is the title of Marvel Premiere #15-- Danny’s introductory issue, and “The City’s Not For Burning” from earlier in the post is Iron Fist vol. 1 #3. We’ll make a comprehensive post either here or on our Iron Fist blog (probably both) once all of the titles have been revealed. 

    The fact that they started flinging out episode titles within hours of releasing the very first teaser suggests an accelerated promotional schedule-- which makes sense, because September 7th is only six-and-a-half weeks away! It can’t come soon enough for us; we’ve been counting the days since Season 1′s cliffhanger ending, and everything we’ve heard so far about Season 2 sounds amazing.