#which given that the series plays fast and loose with history

[sarcasticdolphin]

Hii, i wanted to ask your opinion :)

in sisi (2021) s2 when marie saved baby rudolf from the abusive nannys and franz misunderstood her of trying to hurt the baby and threatened to severely punish her, he later understood the truth but if he didn't get to know the truth do you think franz would have carried on with the threat, what do you think he would have done, would he merely send her away from court or do something more severe?

A quick caveat before I start - I have good access to season 1 but very poor access to season two, so this will reflect that.

Also a note on Sisi(2021) as a show - it's more of a show that values storytelling over historical accuracy, and in particular I have some gripes with how it sanitizes the misogyny of that time period in particular. As it takes more of a storytelling route as opposed to a historical accuracy one, I'm going to go with that to a degree.

First, the factors that need to be considered:

FJ's prior actions and general characterization: We see FJ punish Grunne for stopping him from striking a soldier who had disrespected FJ by having him beaten. Of note, Grunne is both a Count and one of very few people that FJ might just about call his friend. On the counterpoint though, the context was military.

FJ in general shows several times (starting with the executions that open episode one) that he's certainly not what one would call a lenient emperor and likes to project an image of strength. The show seems to be going the route of portraying FJ as a bit of a tyrant and then having him become a better ruler and less tyrannical under the influence of his wife.

Marie's Status: Marie seems to be somewhat based on Countess Marie Larsich, but with a few differences. The series' Marie is younger than Marie Larsich was when she became one of Sisi's ladies, and she's the daughter of a dead prostitute who was an accessory to treason. Marie Larsich was also the illegitimate daughter of one of Sisi's brothers. The series' Marie is very much utterly alone in the world - Sisi is basically all has.

The Crime: The Austro-Hungarian had a couple different versions of treason, but critically here the one that involved the Emperor was very specifically limited to trying to kill the Emperor himself. It didn't even cover the Empress. So there is no way this gets called treason, even if FJ thinks Marie is trying to kill Rudolf.

And now, onto some questions:

Would FJ let Marie explain? I don't think so. We've seem him be very quick to punish people (Grunne), and doing something that would harm the fragile and young Crown Prince, the Emperor's only son, seems to be the type of thing that would get a pretty quick reaction from FJ as opposed to anything else.

What would happen to Marie then? Well on the bright side she can't be charged with treason and Rudolf is fine. I'm not going to do a deep dive into Austro-Hungarian law regarding the age of criminal responsibility etc, but she's young enough that I think execution is off the table. What I would expect to happen is something along the lines of her being sent to a nunnery or the like, with any attempted intercession by Elisabeth only being able to change which nunnery rather than the fact that Marie is going to a nunnery. It is essentially a sentence of life in prison. I do think there would also be punishment for the people who were supposed to be supervising Rudolf as well.

All that being said, if word of it got out then FJ might do something harsher - I don't know if it would be harsher on Marie herself (mostly on account of her age), but I do think it would be harsher on those that should have been supervising Rudolf.

[askmerriauthor]

Pokemon S/V and the Fourth Wall

For those of you who may not know the term, the Fourth Wall is a narrative/theater concept that refers to the unseen barrier between the Audience and the Fictional World being portrayed. When a character in a given work looks directly at the camera/audience, speaks to the viewer, or otherwise interacts with the medium their story is being presented in outside of the way a being in that setting could normally do, that's called "Breaking the Fourth Wall".

Pokemon games have always played pretty fast and loose when it comes to the Fourth Wall. In the early days this could be attributed to simply not having better ways to familiarize Players with the games' systems, functions, and command prompts. The games were heavily limited by their medium and file sizes, so it's not like the devs could spare the extra space to give a more sensibly in-universe explanation to a lot of things. Sometimes a dev has little recourse but to have a character say "Press the B Button", speaking directly to the Player and breaking the Fourth Wall by acknowledging the game/console mechanics. Since Pokemon itself, as a setting and story, has taken lengths to establish a living, breathing world full of lore and history and characters with their own lives, such fissures between Player and Game are generally ignored as a necessity, or cheekily winked at as an Easter Egg, such as when the Player can find Game Freak studio in many of the games and talk to the dev team. Suspension of disbelief maintains.

That said, I have a MAJOR problem with recent developments as of Pokemon Legends: Arceus and Pokemon Scarlet/Violet.

PLA takes place in the far-flung past of the setting and covers a lot of mankind's first real efforts at domesticating Pokemon, which leads up to the modern era the other games take place in. That's a fantastic concept and one I love to see explored. But it also introduced an extremely unnecessary concept into the lore:

All Pokemon have the ability to shrink themselves down small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. All of them. All Pokemon. At-will. It's just an innate thing shared by all Pokemon in existence, even ones from other planets and dimensions or artificially made by man or spontaneously manifested from the grudge of a dying soul, regardless of their differences in biology.

To which I say... no, they fucking don't.

Far be it from me to tell the writers at Game Freak how to do their jobs, but y'know what? I'm a writer in the game development industry myself, so I will since I at least qualify as a professional peer. This doesn't make any sense whatsoever, directly flies in the face of the established lore, and doesn't add anything useful to the lore either. It's not used to expand or fiddle with our understanding of the setting. It's just an excuse to justify why Pokemon shrink away and disappear when they're defeated (a common video game practice of de-rezzing an unneeded character model) or why they can fit inside Pokeballs (we don't need to know that, we've gone the entire series without knowing for certain, it's better not being explained). That said, as the other Fourth Wall breaks prior, this can be massaged away and gently ignored. The story takes place at the very beginning of mankind's scientific exploration of Pokemon, so we can easily wave this statement aside as "they were operating on flawed logic and assumptions that seemed accurate at the time, but didn't hold up to scrutiny as scientific understanding progressed". Suspension of disbelief may be bruised, but it maintains.

Pokemon S/V takes this needless invocation of the game mechanics even further and far more to the detriment of the setting. The Academy is a place that was criminally misused by the game: the Player has the option to explore biology, language, history, math, and other topics outside of the normal Trainer framework we usually play in. It's the perfect opportunity to examine the lore of the setting, really dig into how Pokemon society functions when you're not a combat-focused Trainer, and really flesh out the whole story in interesting ways. S/V did exactly none of that. Instead, all of the classes just discuss combat mechanics or S/V-specific Paldea backstory. That's bad enough on its own because it's such a massive waste of potential, but S/V goes into territory that doesn't just break the Fourth Wall, but grinds it into dust and throws it in our eyes.

Classes in the Academy make statements that blatantly defy the setting we actively interact with at the very moment we're doing it, purely for the sake of justifying a game mechanic. The "Let's Go" function, where you can call out your Pokemon to walk along with you in the overworld, doesn't work indoors because of sizing/pathing constraints. That's fine, it doesn't need to be explained at all. But S/V goes out of its way to state that Pokemon in Paldea, regardless of their species, AREN'T ALLOWED INDOORS, even as virtually every room - including the very class that statement is being made in - features Pokemon in them. Just like the "all Pokemon can shrink" line, this exists only to explain a game mechanic and plainly breaks the setting for no reason.

Further, all these lessons directly reference concepts that don't exist in the setting itself but do exist as part of the game mechanics. They discuss the specific mathematical odds of Shiny probability, the exact damage equations of Super-Effective moves and STAB mechanics, the numerical likelihood and effects of a Critical Hit, and even refer to system statements made in the USER INTERFACE ITSELF THAT EXIST SOLELY FOR THE SAKE OF PLAYER.

What this sort of thing does is directly tie the game's mechanics to the nature of the setting itself; these mechanics are no longer a medium by which to interpret abstract concepts that can't easily be addressed in the game, but are now a fundamental part of how this setting operates. It's absolutely ridiculous and outright damaging to the integrity of the game setting, especially when it comes to the implications it brings up.

For example, there's an invisible stat called "Friendship" in Pokemon that measures how friendly a Pokemon is to you, which raises and lowers based on how you treat them. Some Pokemon will only evolve if they have high Friendship values, or some moves will change their effectiveness based on if a Pokemon likes or dislikes you. As a shorthand mechanic, there are items in the game that alter a Pokemon's stats, including making it more friendly to you. Previously, Players could just use this as an abstraction - "Oh, Pokemon enjoy these items, so using it is the game's way of representing me caring for the Pokemon and giving it things it enjoys". But now? Because of how S/V explicitly ties the game mechanics into the setting, it means these items basically mind-control a Pokemon. "Oh, this Pokemon doesn't like me at all? Let me shove a handful of Grepa Berries down its throat - now it instantly loves me". See how that completely defies the entire concept of Pokemon being independent creatures, Humans befriending Pokemon, establishing a bond with them, and being partners in adventure that even S/V itself tries to present?

This is made so much worse by the fact that it's completely unnecessary. One might argue "But Merri, this is some Players' first Pokemon game! They need to have the mechanics explained to them or else it won't make sense!". I understand that, dear Convenient Strawman, but that's ignoring a very important facet of S/V: the Adventure Guide. That is to say, an in-game key item the Player has from the very start of the game that explains all of the game's various functions, mechanics, and concepts in a non-lore manner. It's a tutorial guidebook specifically for this purpose; its presence in the game explains these ideas better and more thoroughly, making the integration of mechanics into the lore itself redundant and pointless.

For the love of lore, Game Freak, please stop trying to over-explain and integrate game mechanics into the story. Go home. You're drunk.

[ladyartemesia]

The Kiss

◐ PART VIII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐ Part VII ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker, descriptions of violence, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, strong sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, lots of people have, use and are threatened by knives, kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker…

Word Count: 4250

Author’s Note: I said it before but it bears repeating...You have no idea what your support has meant to me. Truly your asks and your messages and comments…they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As many of you know I faced a medical emergency recently and you were all so lovely. The best followers on this site and I MEAN that. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx and  @untaemedqueen​  were (and continue to be) the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story. It wouldn’t be here without you.

——◐——

Two Years Ago 

——◐——

Centuries ago the moon goddess stumbled across her human soulmate while he was sleeping. Struck by his beauty, but reluctant to reveal her identity, the goddess began to visit him in his dreams where she could hide her true form and appear before him as a mortal woman. 

In the world of dreams their love flourished and from that blessed union the packs were born…

The wolf nations celebrated this sacred romance every ten years during the Festival of the Lover’s Moon…

The day of the festival was spent eating and drinking and dancing at large parties, but when the sun went down… well—

That’s when things got really interesting. 

On the night of Lover’s Moon the young unmated wolves of the pack were permitted to commemorate this legendary love story in a decidedly scandalous manner. 

The unmated men assumed the role of the goddess’s sleeping lover—they were blindfolded (to represent slumber) and led into a large sectioned off area of the dark forest to ‘wait and dream.’

Unmated she-wolves over the age of maturity (eighteen) took herbal scent suppressors and ventured out into that very same forest in order to anonymously ‘visit’ the young men ‘in their dreams’...

The rules for what exactly that meant were pretty fast and loose which was why Min Yoongi was thanking the goddess and every other deity he could think of that Yunli was still seventeen. 

“But I will be eighteen in two days! Please can’t I just—“

“No. Absolutely not under any circumstances ever.”

“But Yoonji is going!”

“Ji-ah is nearly nineteen and has never been interested in any of the snotty little man-pups of our pack.” He snorted. “She’s probably going out just so she can shove a bunch of them in the lake.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Yunli mumbled irritably. 

Kim Taehyung yawned idly and snuggled into the cozy little pallet he prepared at the base of his favorite tree. The blindfold he and all the other unmated ‘lovers’  wore was made from witchcloth and could not be removed while the sun was down—so he had snuck into the forest earlier to set everything up. 

Now all he had to do was wait until—

“H-Hi Taehyung.”

Oh sh—

“Uh. Hello...Miss.”

Taehyung didn’t recognize the owner of that voice, but he knew for sure who it wasn’t. 

“I was hoping to find you tonight.”

This is not good. 

“Well I’m—I’m flattered… naturally but—”

She touched his hand and he squeaked. 

“I was thinking you and I might get to know each other a little bet—eep!”

The sharp point of a custom blade pressed directly into the unfortunate young beta girl’s pulse point. 

“Are you lost, puppy?”

A heavy cloak obscured the newcomer’s features, but there was no mistaking her meaning. 

Taehyung bit his lip to keep from snorting as the poor she-wolf scrambled away. 

“Ji-ah,” he tsked with feigned disapproval, “that wasn’t very nice.”

Min Yoonji grinned as she sheathed her wicked looking dagger and slid languidly into his arms. 

“You don’t like nice girls, Kim Taehyung.”

“I like you,” he whispered breathlessly against her lips. “Nice or not—it doesn't matter to me…” His hands slid greedily over her soft curves—pulling her closer till he felt the beat of her heart against his own. “I’ll like anything as long as it’s you.” 

This was the stupidest idea in the history of stupid ideas. 

Jimin huffed as he struggled to find a comfortable position against the giant boulder he’d chosen as his perch.

Why did I let Taehyung talk me into this?

He could be at home—in bed—comfortably sleeping off the all-day feast he’d indulged in. 

Instead he was out in the middle of the forest sitting blindfolded on a rock in the off chance that one of the she-wolves was out looking for him. 

Not bloody likely. 

Not when prime targets like Namjoon, Hoseok, Jungkook—and countless others—were scattered throughout the woods. 

“Park Jimin?”

Every hair on Jimin’s body stood on end. 

It was a soft whisper—the speaker clearly didn’t want her voice to be recognized, yet something about the sound sent a curious frisson of interest down his spine. 

He gulped. 

“Yes… that’s me. But if you’re looking for Hoseok he’s just a little deeper in. You probably caught his scent downwind so—”

“I’m not looking for Hoseok.”

Jimin licked his lips and the sight of it sparked a odd curl of heat in the pit of your belly. 

“I don’t know where anyone else is…”

“That’s quite alright.” A muted shuffle of movement reached his ears as you settled down beside him. “I was looking for you.” 

“Oh…” He rubbed the back of his neck idly. “Are you sure?”

Laughter like fairy bells whispered through the air and Jimin felt his heart clench.

Don’t get your hopes up. 

“Who are you?”

You were silent for a long time and then—

“I am someone who owes you a debt. One I have never been able to repay.”

Jimin’s head tilted curiously as he considered your words. 

“I’m sorry, miss… you must be mistaken. There isn’t—“

“You don’t remember.” 

It was a statement—not a question. Your voice was nearer now. He could feel the warmth of your body close to his—though not quite touching. “It was your wolf that saved me. But you had not gone through the Change yet.”

Familiar shame spiked sharply in his chest.

“I’m seven years past the Change...Why have you never mentioned this before?”

“Circumstances prevented me from doing so.” 

There was a cold finality to your pronouncement—which of course did nothing but further inflame his curiosity. 

“Then why come to me now?”

“I’ve come to repay you.”

Jimin’s mouth dropped open. 

Were you trying to—?!

“Oh—no please that-that’s not necessary—I could never take advantage of—”

You giggled again.  

“I am not offering my body, Park Jimin.”

Jimin breathed a heavy sigh of relief then shook his head with a wry chuckle. 

“Well considering the circumstances I can hardly be blamed for assuming you might be. And honestly most men would jump at the chance to—”

“You...are not most men.” 

Jimin’s eyes narrowed beneath his blindfold. 

“Little she-wolf—I may not be wrestling bears for fun or bare knuckle boxing in the town square, but I am still an alpha.”

The weight of his command poured over your body as he spoke the last word. There was no order or intent—he had simply given you a taste of his power. 

Aside from your direct blood relatives, no alpha had ever dared unleash their compel in your presence—therefore you were utterly unprepared for the effect it had on you—

Utterly unprepared for the strange surge of want so potent and profound that it stole the breath from your body. 

It was primal—invigorating—

Sensual.

You and your wolf may not have been entirely connected yet, but she was suddenly quite vocal about her desire to fully bask in Park Jimin’s attention.

A wicked grin played over his lips as he leaned in closer and you could almost feel the soft brush of his lips against your cheek. 

“Did you think I would not desire the touch of a beautiful woman in the moonlight?” he whispered. 

Please touch me, Alpha. 

Your eyes widened. 

Dear goddess. Your inner wolf was turning out to be a shameless hussy. 

“You might desire it, but you are far too  honorable to accept it as payment for a debt.”

Jimin drew back warily. 

You were correct of course. After all he had refused you when he believed that was your intent but—

“How could you know that?”

Evade. Evade now. 

“Well... how could you know I was beautiful? You’re blindfolded.”

He shrugged and your wolf took careful note of the way it made all the pretty muscles in his back and shoulders ripple. 

He will give us such strong—

Oh boy. 

He will do no such thing. Please calm down. 

“Not everything must be seen with your eyes.”

Is that how you found me? All those years ago...

Questions churned chaotically beneath your consciousness but you dared not give voice to them. 

Focus.

“I must repay this debt. Ask for what you want and—if it is in my power—I swear it will be yours.”

Jimin smiled again, but this time it was somehow softer. For a moment he looked almost…

Sad. 

“I’m afraid that the only thing I have ever wanted is not within your power to give...and I dare not ask you or anyone else for it.”

For her. 

He sighed and drew even farther away from you—in fact it seemed like he was preparing to leave. 

No. 

Your hand reached out almost of it's its own accord and wrapped tightly around his wrist. The contact sent a shock of searing heat through his veins and he froze. 

“Please alpha. It is not acceptable for someone like me—” a leader, a Luna, “—to owe another my life and offer nothing in return. You must let me pay my debt.”

Omega, his wolf growled, sweet perfect omega. 

Suppressors may have hidden your scent, but the siren song of an omega pleading prettily in his ear was unmistakable—irresistible…

“What if all I want is your name?”

You sighed deeply. 

“I cannot give you that. My name is… not mine to offer.”

Jimin laughed. 

“A woman I cannot remember with a name I cannot know and whose face I cannot see.” He shook his head. “Perhaps you are just a figment of my imagination.”

It was hard to explain what happened next...For whatever reason his words cut you deeply and you were overcome with the desire—no need—to refute them somehow. 

“I’m real enough,” you whispered, bringing his hand to your cheek. 

Jimin was genuinely beginning to wonder if you were a witch as well as a she-wolf. Being close to you was intoxicating and the urge to draw you in was steadily overpowering every other thought.

“Could I ask you for a kiss, then?”

“You—...You saved my life and all you want... is a kiss?”

The air grew heavier as the strange magnetic pull between you swelled to a silent inescapable crescendo. 

“In Seoul I often searched for someone who could ease my loneliness, yet each time I walked away emptier than before.” His thumb brushed gently over your lips and your eyes fluttered shut. “I have never had a kiss that meant anything to me.”

But yours might. 

It was unclear who moved first, whether he pulled you to him or you surged forward but when your bodies aligned and your lips met his for the first time it was as if you had never been separate from one another. 

As if you had always been deeply—intimately —together. 

The indescribable feel of him lit over your senses like a struck match. It was an ignition in the purest sense of the word— a fiery visceral awakening fueled by a consuming flood of desire. 

Yes, Alpha. 

He might never see your face or hear your name, but Jimin knew he would remember the taste of you for the rest of his life. It was hot and bright like liquid sunshine— a pure relentless light flowing through him where there was once only darkness. 

A soft needy moan rose up from your chest and he growled in primal satisfaction as you melted against him. 

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt of their own accord, desperately trying to bring him closer until he wrapped his arms around you in a heated embrace. 

“Please,” he begged breathlessly against your mouth. “Please tell me who you are.”

The words crashed over you like a bucket of ice —dousing the hazy pleasure of his kiss with a cold bite of reality. Suddenly you were wrenching yourself away from him and your wolf whimpered in misery at the loss of his touch. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. 

And then you were gone. 

“Did someone hurt you?”

You looked up to find Jin taking in your tears with cold fury. 

Twin knives were already gleaming dangerously in his hands and he appeared ready to filet whichever bastard was foolish enough to make you cry. 

“No,” you sniffed—well aware of how pitiful you were at the moment—crying in the corner of your cousin’s kitchen. “I got myself into this mess without any help—as usual.”

Jin sighed and slid down next to you. 

“Tell me.”

“Something happened that I…I didn’t intend.”

“Oh I knew that already. The Luna isn’t supposed to be running around on the night of Lover’s Moon in a forest full of blind horny wolves—“

You snorted and shook your head. 

“You’re absolutely right. I should have stayed away.”

Jin’s eyes narrowed and he wondered if perhaps you had caught Kim Namjoon with another omega. Nothing would be official until after the Change of course, but your bond with him was basically a foregone conclusion at this point. 

“You went looking for someone...didn’t you.”

You nodded miserably—all but confirming his fears. He made a mental note to push Namjoon in the swamp at the next available opportunity. 

“You know... the stories say that a Luna is powerfully drawn to her mate under the Lover’s Moon—that her wolf can sense him even before the Change.”  He reached over and gently began to brush the tears from your eyes. “So it’s not surprising that you sought him out, but it’s not really fair to hold whatever it is you saw against him. There is no relationship between you yet and…” he chuckled, “kisses beneath festival moonlight don’t really mean anything anyways.”

It was clear that Jin had somehow gotten the entirely wrong impression, but perhaps that was for the best. 

No one knew of your connection to Jimin and no one had seen what passed between you. 

Still…

Something about his assessment stung you. 

“You really believe that? ...That a kiss exchanged tonight means nothing?”

“I do.” Jin spoke with conviction. “There’s ancient magic at play in those woods. You can’t always trust what you see—or what you feel.”

“Oh I...I didn’t know…”

After a moment you laid your head against his shoulder and let the last of your tears run silently down your cheek. 

“Jin-ah have you ever wanted something you knew you couldn’t have?”

“Yes.” He sighed heavily and pulled you in to snuggle a bit closer. “When I was younger I dreamed of having a mate just like everyone else…”

The words were so softly spoken—almost wistful. Your heart splintered just hearing them. 

“But… she could be out there—your mate.”

Jin shook his head. 

“When is the last time you heard of a female alpha?”

Fresh tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Jin…”

“Hey,” he whispered, “don’t waste your crying on me. I’ve long since come to terms with who and what I am.”

“You’re not sad anymore?”

“Well… maybe sometimes I am… but I had to accept that people like us are not like everyone else. Our destinies were written long before we were born.”

“And you believe you’re destined to be alone?”

“Wolves in a pack are never really alone.”

“Yes...but they can be lonely,” you whispered thinking back to Jimin’s words. 

For a moment Jin’s eyes were the saddest you had ever seen them. 

“Well...I suppose they can.”  Then he chuckled and gave your nose an affectionate little tap. “But you don’t need to worry about that. When the time comes Namjoon will take his place at your side and the two of you will build a wonderful life together... Isn’t that what you want?”

Isn’t it?

Your treacherous thoughts drifted back to the boy in the moonlight—to the way your body sang when he touched you and the strange insatiable desire to know him and be known by him in return.

“Please...Tell me who you are.”

A heavy ache settled in your heart. 

You were the Luna of the mountain nations. A true born moon princess. 

You could never be the woman who kissed Park Jimin underneath the stars. 

You were not like everybody else. 

“...Yes. That is what I want.”

——◐——

Now 

——◐——

Jimin’s heart pounded as he tore through the dark paths of the wood with Taehyung, Yoongi, and Jungkook close behind. 

He had never led an attack—had never been trained to command wolves in battle. 

It was his first true test of leadership and he hadn’t even been a leader for twenty-four hours. 

Yet the fears and anxieties that might have normally clouded his mind were notably absent. 

There was only you.

Ironically Jimin owed Namjoon yet another debt—this time for explaining what exactly someone like him was capable of. 

The alpha Jin captured had given up their plan and position after being exposed to Jimin’s unique gifting, so he had a concrete target in his mind… He suspected however, that your captors had taken precautions after leaving some of their men behind. They had shifted their camp. 

But it wouldn’t be enough to save them. 

Jimin didn’t need your location to find you. 

He spent years refusing to look at you, and even then he always knew exactly where you were. He could sense you in any crowd—hear your voice in a thousand.

Once it had tormented him cruelly to be so aware of you. 

Now it was the only thing keeping him sane. 

He followed the connection between his heart and yours like a lifeline and it guided him as surely as the stars. 

The alphas followed him without question. 

If any of them harbored lingering doubts before, they were firmly laid to rest after what they saw at the cottage. No ordinary wolf could do what he had done. 

The Alpha would bring back their Luna and retribution would be swift indeed. 

The drugs in your system kept swinging you in and out of lucidity like a nightmarish pendulum. You tried to shift after the initial nausea faded, but whatever they gave you kept your wolf caged beneath your skin. 

Jimin

The longing you felt for your mate was the only thing tethering you to reality. You could almost hear him echoing in the far corners of your mind—  

I’m coming Omega—hold on. 

I’ll find you. 

Part of you recognized that his voice was likely nothing more than the wistful creation of your drug-addled mind, still you clung to it like the last shred of hope while the minutes (or hours) flew past.

Chaos clouded your thoughts even in clearer moments as many unavoidable concerns forced their way through the haze. 

Jin was at the house with you when they broke in. You had no way of knowing if he survived. 

The men who took you were crass and irreverent. Their eyes followed your form with too much interest and too little respect. 

It was starting to get cold and (due to you nearly dismembering a high council member and needing to be compelled unconscious) you were still wearing a thin white ceremonial dress which offered very little protection from the elements. 

You wondered idly if your idiot captors would let you freeze to death before they accomplished whatever it was they took you for. They clearly needed you for something or you would have been long dead by now. 

None of them struck you as particularly brilliant planners so the mastermind must be somewhere else... 

Frankly the entire situation was as puzzling as it was troubling. Iron Claw had always gotten along well with your pack. 

Technically they were (almost) what the human governments called a vassal state. The presence of a Luna determined the dominant pack in a region and the Luna of the mountain nations had been born into Silver Fang—your pack—for the last thousand years or so. 

Why would they challenge us now? 

The birth of a Luna indicated that the goddess had chosen that pack to lead. Their willingness—not only to kidnap you—but to go against the dominant pack by doing so was alarming to say the least. 

A sudden explosion of movement and sound interrupted your contemplation. Motion erupted all around you—boots pounding on the ground, men falling into their wolf forms, knives being drawn… 

You lifted your head—straining forward to see the source of the commotion—and nearly collapsed in relief when you finally did. 

Alpha

Your mate stood at the edge of the camp flanked by two enormous black wolves. 

A deadly looking jingum sword gleamed dangerously in his right hand. You recognized it immediately as your great-grandfather’s combat blade—the thousand year-old weapon of the Silver Fang Alphas. 

Relief flooded your chest all over again at the sight of it. Only Jin could have given him that sword—which meant he was still alive. 

The black wolves—Yoongi and Jungkook—snarled viciously but made no move to attack. 

Your captors were still scrambling into some sort of combat formation when Jimin finally spoke. 

“You have violated our sacred laws, trespassed in sovereign pack lands, kidnapped a Luna under the protection of our goddess, abducted the mate of the Silver Fang Alpha, and risked open war between our peoples.” He took a single step forward. “Surrender now and I will be merciful.”

The biggest of your captors—a man you recognized as the de facto leader—spat viciously on the ground. 

“You are not my Alpha,” he growled.

A cold—almost cruel—smile twisted over Jimin’s lips.

“Very well.”

Then he dropped to one knee and a massive grey wolf—Taehyung—leapt over his head and tore out the defiant leader’s throat before he even hit the ground. 

Your mouth dropped open. 

Bangtan formation.

Yoongi and Jungkook lunged forward in opposite directions, tackling their targets to the forest floor in a bloody clash of teeth and claws. 

One of the larger Iron Claw alphas half-shifted and charged Jimin but his arm shot out lightning fast, catching his attacker by the throat to send him flying through the air into a tree. 

The next several minutes could only be described as terrifyingly beautiful.

It was immediately clear that Jimin had been holding back when he fought Namjoon. 

He dispatched his opponents with such elegant savagery it was almost art.

You were so mesmerized watching Jimin sensually sword dance his way through a dozen alphas nearly twice his size that you almost missed Taehyung’s wolf rushing over with a dagger clenched between his teeth. 

Luna are you okay? 

You grinned and held up your rope-bound wrists. 

“I’ll be better once you pass me that knife.”

Taehyung nodded once and dropped the blade at your feet before tackling another wolf that was tearing towards the two of you. 

You sawed through the ties around your ankle first then twisted your arms to try and slice through the restraints on your wrist. 

The Iron Claw wolves were clearly no match for Jimin and his alphas. 

Jungkook and Yoongi chased after the few who were trying to run while Taehyung half-shifted to subdue the handful of wolves left alive as prisoners. Only Jimin continued to fight as the last three of your captors still standing took turns being slammed into the dirt by his strikes. 

He was clearly capable of dispatching them, but you were fairly convinced that you would die if you had to stay away from him for another second. The ropes, however, were surprisingly thick and the angle you were cutting them at wasn’t the best. If only—

You were almost free when you saw it. 

One of your captors had pulled a hunting javelin from their supply wagon. He must have hid himself at the onset of the fight, but now he was comfortably concealed by the shadows—and taking aim at Jimin. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. 

The attacker appeared to handle the weapon with familiarity. He was too far back—too well hidden—Jimin would never see him in time—

The last cord around your wrist snapped and you were on your feet, pushing through the combined haze of fury and sedatives to charge the wolf who dared attack your mate. 

By the time he saw you it was far too late. 

Under the effects of the drug your aim was a little skewed but you weren’t Kim Seokjin’s cousin for nothing. 

One clean flick of your wrist and the dagger shot through the air, burying itself between the brute’s shoulder blades—all the way to the hilt. 

His body fell to the ground just as Jimin sent the last of your captors careening into a pile of previously defeated foes. 

For a moment all was quiet. 

Then your eyes locked across the distance and everything around you sharpened to a single whispered word. 

“Jimin.”

He had run non-stop for miles and torn apart a dozen wolves to get to your side—no amount of space between you now was tolerable. 

The sword clattered to the forest floor as he moved toward you—desperate to feel you—to wrap himself around you and know that you were safe. 

What happened next was as natural as breathing.

You opened to him and he lifted you into his arms, taking your lips in a hot unrepentant kiss. 

Fire exploded across your senses, burning away everything but the touch and taste of him. Every part of you was at once fiercely and gloriously alive. Desperate moans passed between you as he licked into your mouth—a dark primal promise of the pleasure he would take between your thighs. 

“Alpha,” you whimpered, too delirious with want to manage anything else. 

Suddenly Jimin’s eyes shot open. His hands flew to cup your face, searching it with a mixture of realization and disbelief.

“You… It was you.”

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Please tell me what you thought of this update! I am really excited to hear your thoughts! Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me! On days that its hard to write, I go back and I read your lovely words and it makes me want to keep going! I cannot overstate its value in my heart! Seriously this story keeps going because you guys have been so supportive and wonderful. You have no idea how much just a few word can brighten my world and fire up my muse. 

[lemonjoonah]

Blood Bounty - Part 1 (M)

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 10K Rating: M Genre: Historical fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Thriller, Drama, Smut Warnings: Non-consensual vampire feeding (graphic, provocative, sexual, blood play, and twisted as fuck), captivation/enslavement, blood, drugging (force feeding vampire blood), obsession, violence, PTSD, at one point the OC pleads for death, it’s dark guys you’ve been warned. While the vampire feeding in this part is highly sexualized, I do have somewhat more “traditional” smut scenes planned for part 2 and 3.

| Series Masterlist |

Summary: He’s taken everything from you, your blood, your memories, your life, and after months spent as Taehyung’s own personal feast, you eagerly take your chance to flee. Unfortunately your escape doesn’t go as well as you had hoped, as you are soon caught by another blood thirsty beast. The vampire Yoongi claims to know you, and that he wishes to return you home. But when you can only remember the pain caused by his kind, you find it difficult to trust him, since he too could just be another monster waiting to feed.

A/N: This mini-series is a loose retelling of Anastasia, you’ll find it to be very different from the animated film. I attempted to blend both the history and the story together in a new historical fantasy world that is not our own. Anyway I hope you enjoy the start to my three part twisted tale, and if you have any questions at the end please feel free to send them my way! Also a big thank you to my beta readers @m00nchild-shi​ and @ladyartemesia​. This story wouldn’t have made it this far without you!

This story is dedicated to all of those who have lost themselves to a monster (of any form) at some point in their life. I know the journey back to yourself can be hard, but trust me, you are worth every effort. 

...  

From the break of dawn you’ve crossed miles of ground, traversing through grassy fields and deep rivers. Accompanied only by the clothes on your back, a stake in your hand, and a pair of boots far too big for your feet, all stolen during your hastened departure. 

You consider yourself lucky after making it out unseen. Lucky that Taehyung had left his fortress of a castle, lucky that he took most of his capable progenies with him, lucky that the underling who tended to your room left the fire iron within your reach, and lucky that it was able to break the chain of the shackle fastened around your wrist. You left as soon as daylight broke. With everything working in your favour for your escape, even acquiring your captor’s clothes and cap to pass off as a young man. For sightings of a woman travelling alone might tip off those you would rather avoid.  

But now, with your heels raw and bloody, it would seem that your good fortune has finally run out, as the smell will no doubt attract his hunters. You curse your carelessness, for the number of times Taehyung has complimented you for your most potent scent. You’ve witnessed it yourself, a single whiff of your blood during his feedings having sent several of his men into a frenzy. This unfortunate blessing left you to be seen as a bounty, condemning you to his captivity, and now the struggle as you flee for your life. 

You attempt to clean the broken skin and stem the flow with strips torn from your tunic. The fine piece of clothing is barely recognizable after the paces you’ve put it through today. With the extra fabric now wedged into your boots you can only hope that it’ll make your journey tomorrow easier, and detain much of the scent that would allow them to track you. 

You wish that you could continue on tonight, but the darkness of the wood, your sores, and your fatigue impede your plans. You’ve gained ground but the lack of settlements must mean that you still lie within his realm. With your memories stolen in an effort to keep you at his side you have little to go on but a tapestry that hung in his den. It showed a city to the east, beyond the boundary of his land, and what is hopefully your home. But with the woven display having no proper scale you have no idea how long it will take to actually leave his territory. Freedom could be hours or days away.  You can only hope that the rivers you’ve traversed will keep them at bay until you can find a safer place to stay. Their weaknesses are all you have to lean on to prevent recapture, but will it be enough?

After tending to your feet you settle in the nook of a tree, leaning your head against the mossy trunk. Your stomach growls but you have no food to feed it, nor a blanket to dismiss the chilling wind which forces a shiver from you. Your deflated spirit is made even worse when a raven takes notice of your poor state. It circles overhead, undoubtedly looming with the hopes that you have given in, and that he too can feast on you. 

Ignoring the omen, you close your eyes, directing your focus instead on the surrounding sounds of the forest, listening for anything that might be a predator making an approach. Despite an exhausting day you still are wary of sleep, knowing what will greet you as you drift off, and concern of someone, or something catching up to you once you do. You rest there for what must be an hour, debating with yourself the advantages slumber, before you hear the snap of a nearby twig. Your fingers drift to the wooden stake on the ground next to you, your movement is slow hoping to escape the notice of whatever might be drawing closer. The footsteps which crunch on the leaves continue to advance on your position. There’s no running now, all you can do is play ignorance until they are in range for you to act.

When a hand reaches down and tilts the brim of your hat, you open your eyes, driving your weapon up in an aim to strike, but your assailant is too quick for you. He catches your arm in an iron grip, much like the remains of the manacle that still holds your other wrist. Though his face is hidden by the dark of night and his frame draped in a long coat, there is no doubt about what he is, and what he’s come for, his speed in stopping you was far too fast to be human.

“Be still,” the monster growls. “It’s me, Yoongi. Are you hurt?”

His concern is almost laughable. His implication of a connection likely a trap, one intent on luring you in, with a motive to end the hunt. “Not if you leave me be.” You attempt to press the stake towards him still, but he barely even registers your efforts. 

“Have you forgotten me?” The beast’s grip tightens on your arm as he dismisses your threat, taking the stake in his own hand before he pulls you up while he continues his deception, “I know that to be what I asked for, but I didn’t think... no, it matters not. ” He shakes his head as his words trail off. His voice then returns resolute and firm once he changes thoughts. “Come, we must get you somewhere safe.”

You dig your heels into the ground as he attempts to pull you along, clawing at his fingers until they release you. “I’m not going anywhere with you vampire. You will not take me back to him, anywhere is safer than there.”

“I am not taking you back, but we must leave. They’ve already placed a large bounty on you and these parts will be flooded with hunters soon.” 

“How can I be sure you’re not one of those hunters?” You make an attempt to retake the stake, showing you have no intention of complying with him. But he pulls it back, holding it just out of your grasp.

“You will have to take me at my word, I am not of Taehyung’s kin and I have no plans on handing you back over to him. Now if you please, I can either escort you to safety, or take you there by force.”

“I don’t trust you.” You glare back at him.

“Very well,” the vampire sighs, tossing your wooden weapon aside, putting it far beyond your reach. He then bends down, throwing you easily over his shoulder, and thereby ending the argument over your fate. Your fists collide with his back several times in an effort to make him release you, but he doesn’t appear bothered by the attack. You draw breath ready to call out when he stops you with a quick jostle. His shoulder lays into your abdomen knocking the wind from your lungs. “You may hit me all you want, but do not scream. I would rather not alert others to our location.”

Could he really not be someone sent by Taehyung’s underlings? Regardless, even if he is, you don’t have the strength to over power him. There’s little you can do but lay like a rag doll propped over his shoulder, with his arm hooked on the back of your knees. 

He hauls you over to a break in the trees, one which leads out to the road where a horse waits patiently for him. You’re thankful when he seats you on the saddle rather than throwing you on your stomach once again. With the full light of the moon on the open dirt road, you’re finally able to see his face properly. His soft and sombre expression is a drastic difference compared to Taehyung’s sharp features and cruel grin.

“Are you going to behave now princess?”

Your eyes widen with terror in response to his last word uttered. You immediately try to pull away to put as much distance as you can between you and him, but he holds you firm in the saddle. The confining grip matching the memories of the name he has just called you all too well. Your breathing comes in short panicked waves as your hand moves to conceal the scar on your neck. You can’t go back, you won’t go back, you refuse to endure that supposed term of endearment anymore. 

“Prin-” The vampire tries again to elicit a response from you, only this time you cut him off. Your fear turning to anger unwilling to tolerate another lie from his lips. 

“If you are not one of Taehyung’s clan then tell me, why do you address me in that manner?”

“You don’t know why I call you princess?” He gazes upon you, his eyes narrowed in confusion as you recoil once again. This time he takes your hand, which bears the weight of both the iron shackle and bitten brand, to hold you still. When you wince from the pressure of his touch, he looks down to examine the sensitive spot. His jaw stiffens as he finds the source of the pain. “What has he done to you?” He whispers softly as his fingers trail over the wound on your palm. 

...

“Open up princess, I have a gift for you,” Taehyung orders, standing over you as you sit on his desk. Gripping your jaw, while your lips remain sealed in defiance. “I said open.” His hand tightens, forcing your mouth to unfasten and expel a cry of pain. He presses the bloody tip of his finger to your tongue, dragging his index from the back to the front coating it with the thick fluid. “Now swallow.”

Your mouth begins to salivate with the intrusion of his blood. You know if you take it in you will lose everything once again, you’ll lose the will you’ve been building back up to defy him. He is never truly out of your system, you still have gaps in yourself, but the need to disobey always has its way of creeping back to you first. To be forced back into obedience within your own body and mind is nothing short of torture. 

You refuse to allow him to drag you back to the dark willingly, spitting your saliva along with his blood into his smug expression.

Taehyung chuckles darkly as he wipes his face with the back of his hand. “You’re right my princess. How could I think that only a drop would be enough to dispel your greed? You deserve more.” 

This time he bites into his hand allowing the blood to pool, while the other takes hold of your neck. The dripping flesh of his palm covers your gasping mouth. Your head is tilted back by his grasp as the blood drains down the back of your throat. 

“You will keep this down. You will accept my control. Every time you look at yourself you will think of me. When you close your eyes you will dream of me, for you can not run away only toward. You will remember nothing before me, and nothing before the night I bestow you with this.” His thumb passes over a three month old scar on your neck, continuing to mark it as the cornerstone of the earliest memory you possess.

Every week without fail he reweaves his bonds inside you, tending to them as a doting hunter with a valued prey. He takes his fill of you in between, sometimes it’s only a taste and others a full meal. Treating his desk as a dining table and you the feast, placing you down upon it for his consumption. 

“I will have to leave you weak in the knees today princess if I must go without you for a fortnight.” His finger catches a drop of blood that escapes your mouth running it back along your lips before his hand moves away and down, trailing deep red lines down the skin of your jaw and neck. “I’m sorry to leave, but there are some pressing matters which I must attend to.” He portrays a look of sorrow, but you know better than to believe that he can possess a single human emotion.  “You’ll be good while I’m gone won’t you? Shall I give you something to remember me by? Another mark unhealed for you to see? You can watch as it slowly means, knowing that I’ll be back to tear you open again.” 

He lifts your hand to his face with his own bloody fingers. How you wish you could slap him away, but your body refuses to move on your behalf, after consuming his blood it yields only to him.  

He does not hesitate before sinking his teeth into the base of your palm. Matching his own wound that he inflicted on himself, but as yours grows deeper, his begins to heal. He takes a long draft before releasing in a pant. Your blood acts like a drug to his system, making him as he so often puts it, ‘Feel alive again.’ 

He wipes his palm on yours allowing the breach to clot, he doesn’t mend it completely, instead leaving the painful imprint of his teeth, branding you anew, just as promised. “Appetizer, now entree Princess,” he mutters as he moves on, shifting to cradle your head and neck in his arms. You attempt to pull away, but that only forces him to issue the command, “Stay still.” 

His face hovers over the pulse of your neck, with you now frozen beneath. His fangs are careful not to dive too deep, retracting just as the blood begins to trickle from your throat. It collects in the well of your collar and trails down your chest, seeping beneath the bodice of your dress. The white fabric of your garment starts to bloom with scarlet. He could have chosen a gown of darker cloth for your personal wear, one that would be less prone to display the gruesome patterns of his actions, but he prefers to see the art of your suffering, your clothes and body becoming a canvas for his great masterpiece. He mutters how beautiful it looks while his fingers add to the display, painting a ruby-red choker around your neck using the blood as a stain.

His eyes linger taking in the sight before he moves in again to collect the flow, lapping it off your skin like a beast amidst a drought. You cringe as his tongue crosses your flesh, relentless in its desire to gather every drop it can. And just when you think he’s finished it makes another pass, accompanied by a growl and another sharp nip.

Unlike your hand, he completely remedies the gash on your neck, leaving only the one scar upon your throat from his first feeding. The loss starts to hit you, your skin turning cold like his, your breathing shallow, and your pulse quick. You hope that might be the end, that he has had his fill and needs no more, but his hand then fastens on your leg having pushed up the hem of your skirt and thin petticoat. “Let me in princess, I still have room left for dessert.” His teeth skim across the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh mapping his preferred spot from your pained twitches. 

You whimper as he clamps down for his last bite. The only solace you can take is that he will not be here for two weeks. You have more time without him feeding, time to gain back control, and time to escape. You stare off to the woven tapestry map behind him, not knowing where to go but longing to be anywhere but here.

...

“D-don’t call me that.” Your demand catches and cracks at the back of your throat.

“But it’s what you are-”

“I am not his dinner, I am not his slave, and I am most certainly not his princess! I will not go back. If you have any mercy, please... drain me here. For I am far more willing to meet death, than I am to see him again. ”

To your confusion he looks shocked that you would even suggest such an act. He takes a moment before looking into your eyes with a narrowed gaze, “You don’t remember anything do you? It’s not just me you’ve forgotten.” 

You shake your head, unable to meet his eyes, “I remember nothing before him.” 

The vampire holds what’s left of the iron shackle in his hands, bending it apart with only his grip, freeing you from it’s clutches. 

There's another sigh from him as he takes the space on the saddle behind you. His body is uncomfortably close to yours, with his breath on your neck, and arms wrapped on either side to take the reins. “And I thought he could sink no lower...” He urges the horse forward with a nudge and a few mumbled words far too low for you to hear. “You are right, you are not his meal, nor his property, but it is not simply a given moniker to which I am referring, it’s what you are. You are the only living heir of a human kingdom just east of here.” 

“You lie, there is no way I could be,” This is just another game of his. It has to be. “If I am what you say, how could I have ended up where I was?” 

“You went missing, disappearing from your bed in the night. Your people assume that you were kidnapped, that you were taken by a monster, not knowing what we are. But I assure you, you are the lost pr-” He stops as you stiffen once again. “I can take you home, back to your family, back to your people, if that’s what you wish.” 

“And why would you do that?”

“I broke a promise long ago, I plan to remedy that mistake.” 

“I fail to see how that applies to me.” You mutter as you slump down in the saddle, no longer fighting your current fate. This vampire too can easily overpower you, he can take you wherever he desires to go, but as long as it’s away from Taehyung you have no wishes to slow him down.

He pulls a skin of water from his horse’s pack offering it to you. Your dry mouth wants to empty it in one swig, but the possibility of what else it could contain holds you back. You turn your nose up instead fearing that he’s drugged it with his own blood. 

“I have not tampered with it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You keep assuming your words carry weight with me. I will need more than that if I am to drink this.”

“If I intended to manipulate you with blood I would have done so already instead of fighting to get you on the horse.” 

He’s right, it would have been far easier. You take a careful sip rolling over your tongue, trying to detect even the slightest taste of iron before your swallow. 

He holds out food too, in the form of a few pieces of dried meat. Your mouth waters at the sight. The unaltered drink gives you the confidence to abandon your worries and take it, asking more questions while you eat. “You said I forgot you, but how was it that I knew you Yoo-” You pause trying to recall the name he led with when he found you. 

“Yoongi.”

You wait for more but he doesn’t continue, after swallowing your current mouthful you press further. “Are you not going to tell me?”

“It would be better if you remembered.”

“You expect me to trust you, but then you hide truths?” 

“I expect you to trust me because I want you to recall your truth of our encounters, not mine. When you do I will gladly discuss it with you, but not until then.” His tone is stern, boasting an air of finality to his argument.  

You huff back in frustration. “Can you at least tell me how long you’ve known me?”

“More than ten years now, you were a child of fourteen when we first met.”

“So you must know my name? My real name?” You ask with near excitement, hoping it might stir up some of your past within you.

“I do.” But as he recalls it, whispering the name for you to hear, nothing happens. You thought when you heard it again that everything would come back all at once like a spell broken by one magical word. But the name that comes from Yoongi’s lips has no meaning to you, no memory, no warmth. It bestows only a cold emptiness, a fear that you’ll never quite be able to bind yourself together with the person who bore that name before. 

...

Hours later Yoongi pulls his horse off the path and into the woods, trotting down what looks to be an overgrown trail. You finally come to a stop in front of a mound, backed by an elevation of stone and earth, bearing a small cave-like entrance.

“What is this?”  

“An old mining site. We’ll have to stop here for now.” Yoongi helps you down off the horse before removing the tackle and taking the large pack, he ties his steed up with a long lead on a grassy patch. Once finished you follow him through the dark and into the cavern, lagging a few paces behind with your legs stiff and sore from the night’s travel.

“But there’s still another hour or two until the sunrise. Why stop here?”  

“Because this is the last dark space that’s marked for the next fifteen miles.” He opens one of the bags pulling out a lantern, he lights it, dousing the cold and damp walls of the cave in a warm glow. Taking out a thick piece of paper next, he unfolds it with careful precision, laying it gently across a leather pack. He acts as though it’s a precious heirloom passed on to him from a loved one long gone. Your heart starts to race upon realization that it’s a map, and how with it’s aid you’d be able to find your own way home.  

Dark circles on the heavy parchment denote what according to the key is a resting spot. He opens it further pointing to both your current position and destination, your fingers tracing over a kingdom which he says is yours. With still three times the distance you’ve travelled yet to traverse, much of your contentment fades. 

Despite the blow to your morale, you continue your examination of the map, hoping to learn as much from it as you can. It’s beautifully intricate and precisely made, the only flaw is an ink smudge in the lower left hand corner, which appears to be a faint mirror image of the compass rose on the right. Likely the result of the map being folded before the ink had completely dried. You run your index over the blot feeling much the same. A partial imprint of your past life, and a great distance away from what you must have been. 

Yoongi watches you with a keen eye as you attempt to commit your future route to memory. “Does it look at all familiar to you?”

“No, I remember nothing of this land.” Not the names of rivers or cities return to you. How can you call a place home if you know nothing of it? “Thank you for your assistance. I know you have to stop, but after seeing this I feel that I should keep going.” You offer cordially, praying that he’ll agree to parting ways here. 

“Oh no you don’t. You’ll stay here until the sun sets, and we’ll continue together.”

“Why should I? If the sun is out I’m not at risk from vampires.”

“It is still a while before we reach your kingdom. You can see that can’t you? At least two more nights where you would be alone if I let you leave. Not to mention the risk from your own brethren. You haven’t been among other humans enough to know that they can be just as malicious.”

“Then give me your horse and I’ll out ride them.”

“When was the last time you rode a horse on your own?” He asks lowering his brow, scoffing as his tongue pokes at the side of his cheek. 

“I-I...” Naturally you can’t remember, and he knows it. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yes of course you’ll be fine, it’s not like there will be vampires nipping at your heels the whole way home. Do you know I could smell the blood trailing from your feet a mile away? I can’t imagine they are in a good state. If the horse were to unseat you and run off, would you even be able to continue?”

You wince at the thought of treading forward on foot. The blisters are already a source of great agony, it’s painful to think what they would be like after another mile or two. 

Yoongi notices the show of discomfort in your face,  “Looks like you’ll be staying with me then your highness.”

“I’d rather not...” You're grateful he’s stopped calling you by the other title, but that still doesn’t prove his loyalty. “Why are you so insistent on taking me home? What’s in this for you?”

“Your company.”

“I am serious,” you groan, casting a dark glare back at him over the candle light.

“So am I.” He mutters his response, it’s so quiet you almost miss it.

“You are insufferable! I should be taking advantage of the daylight, I should be putting more distance between myself and his prison. You should have left me there in the forest so I wouldn’t have to deal with your so-called assistance.”

“Forgive me for wanting to keep you alive and safe. It must be truly awful to have someone come to your aid.”

“You are not someone, you’re a vampire,” you bite back against his sarcasm. “I take no pleasure in being in the company of your kind.”

Yoongi sighs looking defeated, following it with an odd request. “Give me your hand, the one with the wound.”

“Why?” You clutch your palm to your chest in defence. 

“I’ll mend it properly for you, your heels too if you’d like. I want to help undo the damage that my kind has done to you. He should never have left you scarred like that.”

“He shouldn’t have fed off me in the first place!” You shout back your voice echoing off the walls.

“You’re right,” Yoongi levels with you. “But I can’t imagine you want to keep it.”

“I don’t, but I also don’t want help from you! I would rather carry this than any more of your poison. So you can keep your blood to yourself.”

“As you wish,” Yoongi responds, yet he still shifts towards you, encouraging you to back away and keep the space between you. 

“I’m not going to...” His tone sounds exasperated but soon changes to a softer register as he looks at your terror ladened face. “Just, take this.” Yoongi passes over a bed roll before pulling one out for himself from the woven pack. 

You stare at the bedding, questioning it, the convenience of such an item along with supplies all seem too good to be true. “Why would someone who travels alone have a second? Why would a vampire have a stash of water he can’t drink, and food he can’t eat?” 

“I brought them for you. I knew you would need them on the journey.” His answer comes off as thoughtful, but the explanation still doesn’t sit right with you, surely there can be no rational reason as to why he was so ready for your escape.

“You expect me to swallow your perfect timing? That you just happened to be in the right place at the right time, ready to play the role of saviour-”

“Who said the timing was perfect? It has been anything but ideal,” Yoongi growls cutting you off. “I have been trying to get you back ever since I learned that you were taken. But we have limitations that prevented me from just storming his castle. A vampire can not enter the home of another without permission. I tried to get you, believe me I did. While you were trapped inside for five years, I was kept outside for just as long. But I have always been prepared to leave with you at a moment's notice.” 

You were ready to continue your argument again just as he was to finish, but one of his last reveals disarms you with an all too unpleasant fact. “H-how long did you just say?”

“Five years?”

“No... that’s not possible, I can’t remember more than a few months.”

“Prin- your highness.” Yoongi catches himself as you turn to panic.

“Please don’t tell me that he held me for years.” You panicked whispers become sobbing pleas, you would gladly take the lie now. The thought of more tortures of imprisonment lying just below the surface of your memory is enough to make you want to do away with your entire past. Blindly tossing it all away and building it all anew, if only it worked that way.    

“It’s been years, I’m so sorry, but you’ve been with- you’ve been missing for half a decade.” 

“Why? Why would he take that too?” You whisper stand up clutching the scar on your neck, the mark you thought to be the first was likely a only a sequel to many. How many more lie hidden in your skin, healed and masked his blood?  Feeling a pull to leave, you stumble towards the mining shaft’s entrance, unable to take another minute beside a monster who could do the same. Yoongi grabs you from behind, wrapping his hands around your waist to prevent you from progressing any further outside. You strain against him determined to go back out into the open air.  “No, let me go.”

“I can’t do that, your highness.”  

You turn into him pushing against his chest as you shout. “Let me go Yoongi.” He doesn’t stop you from shoving, or cursing him out. He just stands there holding tight as you take out your loss on him. 

“If I were to do that his hunters would find you,” Yoongi warns. “Is that what you want? Because I’m not ready to lose you to him again...” The last of his sentiment drifts off as if he’s said too much. His grip loosens to the point where you can slip away. As much as you want to turn out and run towards the sun he’s right, you can't risk losing another five years or maybe more. He nods down to the bed roll abandoned on the ground. “You should get some rest, you’ll need it for the journey tomorrow.” 

You obey, taking the bedding and lantern, wandering back farther into the cave and further away from the vampire. Slipping off your boots you find the cloth you had wedged in earlier caked with blood. You glance over to your nocturnal companion seeing if the reveal had any effect on him, but he’s already lying down, his back towards you, paying no attention. Desperate to dispose of the temptation you hold the two strips of fabric above the lantern flame. Fortunately they are dry enough to burn, leaving only ashen traces of the linen scraps. You redress your wounds with more fabric from your garment, but before curling under the blankets for the day you take one last precaution. With numerous broken branches littering the floor of the cave, you take the most jagged and sturdy, tucking in by your side. The sharp twig is not quite a stake, but a better defence than nothing at all.

...

Even after travelling all day and night with little rest it takes an age for you to fall asleep, not because of the hard ground, not due to the pain in your legs, nor the questionable motives of your new guard, but the knowledge of who you’ll see once you do. Although Taehyung’s blood has lost control of your physical movements, his hold on your mind is still tight. You know you’ll see him when you drift off, but your exhaustion is unwavering and your need of rest undeniable.  

It seems like only moments after you close your eyes that you’re reunited. He lies there beside you back in his castle, with his own eyes closed, his face content with a small smile as though he’s just fed. But on this night, something’s different. You finally feel as though you have the power to fight back against him. The stake you had stolen from his collection, and promptly lost to the forest, found again by your side. You’ve always wanted this moment, taking vengeance on the one who put you through hell. Even if it is only a dream you’ll embrace it though reality.

Mere inches away from his chest your hand is stopped by his. His eyes fly open and he tackles you back. “Killing me won’t grant you freedom, it won’t stop others from coming for you.”

“Then let them come,” you sneer back at him. “For any life without you Taehyung will be a vast improvement, no matter how short or perilous.” 

There’s a quizzical look on his face, his thumb pushing into your palm trying to get you to realise the stake, “Wake up your highness, it’s not what you think.” 

You are pulled from the dream to find yourself with your pitiful excuse for a weapon in hand. Pointing it at Yoongi’s heart as he hovers over you. You drop it quickly, and attempt to slide out from beneath him out of fear of retaliation. “I thought you were him.” 

He places a heavy hand on your shoulder preventing any further retreat on your part. “I figured that to be the case. Do you have these dreams often?” His tone is not angry, but concerned.

You relax with his understanding, “Every night, he made sure it was so.”

“I know it won’t mend the past, but I’m sorry... for what he’s done to you.”

“I’m sorry I attacked you...” 

“I can’t blame you for that,” Yoongi admits with a curling smile on his lips. “If I looked at myself and saw Taehyung I would respond in the same manner.”

You let out a small chuckle, leading to a surprised expression on Yoongi’s face. His smirk soon turns into a sad smile. “I want you to know, when you are with me, you are safe. No one will feed from you, no one will touch you, myself included.”

...

You wake to the sound of a raven in the early evening, the deep croaks of the bird carrying through the mine. Keeping your head down you glance with narrowed eyes to spy on the vampire who currently ties a small roll of parchment to the leg of the dark creature. It waits patiently on his knee until the knot is firmly in place, letting out another loud cry once Yoongi’s hand retreats. 

“I suppose you’ll be wanting more then?” Yoongi takes his index, and presses it down onto one of his sharp teeth, allowing a bead of blood to form on the tip. The raven then takes his finger into his beak and tilts his head back as it feeds on the red droplets. You start to gag at the sight, alerting Yoongi to your awakened state. The bird takes flight as your escort gets up to check on you, but as he comes closer you draw back. He pauses after his first couple steps, and asks from a distance instead. “Are you alright?”

“Why did you feed it your blood?” You heave again at the thought, but with little in your stomach there is nothing to come up.

“He’s delivering a letter for me. The blood is his reward; it keeps him healthy, but it also allows me to convey where he needs to go and who he needs to find.” 

“It’s disgusting.”

“The raven is more than happy to take it as payment for his service. But I know of what you mean, when the exchange is done improperly...” Yoongi pauses as another wave of nausea overwhelms you again, “Forgive me, I thought you were asleep, I didn’t know you would be watching.”

“What were you sending?”

“Notice to my clan. I left my surveillance post, they will wish to know why.”

“Will that be a problem?” You hadn’t considered groups other than Taehyung’s, but if you can avoid interaction with them all the better.

“No, returning you home will be a greater blow to Taehyung. He has likely built a dependence on your blood and without you he’ll be left in a far weaker state. We might finally have a chance to diminish his hold on the region.” Yoongi takes a brief glance to the entrance and starts to pack away his supplies. “You should ready yourself to leave. The sun is almost down.”

You climb out from your bed roll to find that in the night the blood had seeped through the new makeshift bandage. Yoongi clenches his teeth, and makes another offer. “Please just let me heal them, you'll only need a drop.”

“That’s one drop too much.” You move back unsure if you should be more worried about Taehyung’s men tracking you down, or the more current and looming threat of the vampire in front of you. “Is this going to be a problem for you?” “No,” he confirms, however there’s a slight hesitation in his answer. “But you should go wash up before you lose all daylight, there’s a river just down hill.” He takes a kerchief from his pocket and places it on a rock between you. “You can have this if you’d like. I don’t have any bandages to offer, other than the treatment you find so distasteful.” 

You reach out and grab it. “You won’t be getting this back.” You eye him darkly. 

“That’s fine, just go clean them off before others who may be nearby take note of your aroma.” You observe him with caution, hesitating to pass by his threatening mouth to get to that of the cave’s. “Unless you want to stay and watch me eat.” He comments as he pulls out another soft flask which he carries in his jacket. You cringe as he holds in what is likely a stolen meal.

“What?” He fires back at your critical glare. 

“Do you drain all your victims into wine skins, or just those you wish to save for later?”

“The one who gave me this was not my victim. They were willing to part with it.”

“Willing?” You scoff. “I find that hard to believe. Are you sure you did not slip them some of your own blood first?”

“No I did not, but if you have a problem with how I conduct my feedings you only have yourself to blame.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Now hurry, so we can make use of this night.”

You do just that, darting past him you leave the mine heading down to the river in the fading sunlight.

...

As you return Yoongi is already outside and packing the horse. With his back to you he pulls an apple from the saddle bag, and the horse turns his head towards the treat with it’s mouth open and reaching. He pulls it back and away from the creature, “I know, I know this should have been yours, but you’ve had enough grass and she needs food. Do you mind sharing?” You watch as he rubs his steed behind the ear and it gives up on it’s want for the fruit. “Thanks, next one is yours, I promise.”

“Am I to thank you or the horse for my meal?” You call out to the vampire.

“You may thank him if you like.” Yoongi hands off the apple to you as you approach.

You can’t help smile as you stand in front of the massive and beautiful stallion letting him smell the back of your hand before you reach you pet the star on his forehead. “What is his name?” 

“Horse...” Yoongi admits. 

“Horse? Surely you jest. Why would you not give him a proper name?”

“He went for so long without one it just stuck.” Yoongi responds as he tightens the girth of the saddle. “What would you have named him?” 

“I’m not sure, but certainly not horse. You poor beast, first he deprives you of a suitable name, then an apple.” You take a few bites but with your stomach still queasy and unable to take anymore, you give the rest to the poorly named steed. Once the bridle and tackle are secure you mount up despite the instant outcry from your legs. You find Yoongi watching you, taking notice but remaining silent. You’re grateful for his lack of discourse, not wanting to have to explain the tenderness of your ass and thighs owing to yesterday’s travel. 

Regrettably, the aches become worse, and after only a couple hours of riding you’re barely able to stay upright. If Yoongi’s arms weren’t circling around you to keep hold of the reins you would have slid to the ground long ago. It seems that he’s no longer able to disregard your comfort though.  “Are you well?”

“Relatively speaking, yes.” You whisper holding in a groan.

“Relative to what?”

“Relative to a week ago.” To your time with Taehyung. You grimace further with each mounted stride.

“I think your scale is skewed. We’ll slow for a bit. Though you might think differently, I have no desire to see you in pain.” He slows his steed to a walk and dismounts, letting you lean back as he leads the horse forward. 

“This is nothing I promise. We should keep the pace up.”

“You wish to be rid of me so soon? Even if it causes you agony?”

“Yes.” Your short reply is enough to make him pause for a second, his face splitting into an open smirk before he continues again.  

“Though I appreciate your honesty, the horse could use a break too.” Yoongi chuckles darkly. “You’ll have to learn how to hold that tongue of yours again once you return to court.”

You take in a sharp breath as a chill runs down your spine. You’ve been so focused on what you are running from you haven’t given thought as what you are running too. “Do you know much about my family, about my life back home?”

“Some.”

“You said I was the last remaining heir. There must have been a time when that wasn’t the case.”

“Your brother...” Yoongi explains, his gaze fixed on the road. “He passed away a few weeks ago. He was very ill, had been all his life.”

You take a deep breath as you register the news, but it’s hard to properly grieve when you can’t recall what you lost. “I wish I could remember-” 

Yoongi must be taking pity on you as he delves further without your prompting. “You loved him very much, but you weren’t as close as you would have liked to have been. His ailment was unknown to many and it prevented him from spending much time with you.”

“How do you know that?” 

“Because you told me.” He whispers, finally meeting your eyes again.  

“Wh-what else do you know? Will you tell me?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Give it time and you’ll remember on your own. His hold won’t last forever.”

“I still don’t understand why you won’t say more.”

“Because I don’t want to give you a false sense of your past, only to find out later that it was different than I thought, than I hoped. Your affection for your brother was obvious, but with other focuses of your adoration I cannot be sure. So please do not ask much of me. You’ve gone through enough, I have no wish to plant false regard for things you did not actually love.” While Yoongi continues to look up to you his expression takes a sudden shift. His nose lifts into the air and takes a deep breath, before his head snaps back at the road ahead. “Humans... four of them.”

Your heart leaps at the prospect, but Yoongi cuts your anticipation short. “Don’t get too hopeful. They are currently trying to conceal themselves on the path ahead. I doubt their motives are well intended.” He reaches up to tuck a lock of hair that had fallen out from your cap. “Stay on the horse and keep quiet. I’ll deal with them.” 

“But-”

“For your own safety, please do what I ask.” 

The trees growing around the road are thick and dense, your eyes dart between the trunks in hopes to catch movement, but with the forest cloaked in darkness you have little ability to find anything. Minutes pass and just as you are about to question Yoongi, you spot a man with tattered clothes lying in the middle of the dirt road ahead. Thinking he might be a victim of the others mentioned, you make an attempt to dismount. But Yoongi holds your hand firmly on the reins, while he calls out to the casualty. “The wounded traveller? Do people still fall for that?”

There’s a moment of silence before a man emerges from the forest to the left. “You’d be surprised,” he responds, while two more appear on the right. 

The destitute wayfarer on the road gets up and dusts himself off. “It’s a shame you didn’t fall for our ploy, it’s much easier both for us and those who do, so much less blood.  You look to be worth the effort though. I’m sure we could fetch a pretty penny for a steed like that.”

The four close in ranks and advance. Yoongi stays by your side, eyeing their approach, he gives a warning. “For your sake, I hope there will be no blood involved.” 

“Is that a threat?” One of the highwaymen asks. “I should like to see how you plan on besting us without a blade. 

The man closest to you, with a dagger drawn, reaches out to grab hold of your leg. “Come down off the horse lad. There's no point in putting off the inevitable, it’s ours now.” In spite of his weapon you ready to kick the man off, but before your foot can lay into him his grip is torn away. In the blink of an eye Yoongi is on the other side of the horse forcing the assailant  to his knees with an arm behind his back. There’s a loud pop from the thief’s shoulder, resulting in a cry of pain. One of the other bandits charges to free his ally, his sword ready. Yoongi succeeds in dodging the initial thrust of the steel, and with one hand takes the saber, turning it instead on it’s owner. Your vampire escort issues another caution with the point at man’s throat. 

“If you would like your friend to keep use of his arm then I suggest you all back away.” While the disarmed thief retreats backward with his hands in the air, the rest are frozen in place refusing to move. “You think I jest?” Yoongi’s grip tightens while his captive lets out a shout. The little effort used on the vampires part to make the man submit finally prompts his fellows to take two steps back. “I swore to my companion that no one would touch them on this journey. You’ve made me break that promise, and I am not pleased.” There’s a deep growl to his voice that sends chills through even you. “I should take this limb in payment, and maybe one from each in your party too.”

“Yoongi....” You whisper in a low tone.

He turns back to you with a slight smirk. “But you are lucky, my friend prefers mercy. It’s far more than you deserve.” Yoongi lowers his head muttering into the bandits ear. “I’ll tell you what. You may keep your arm, but you and your men will abandon your camp, head south and keep walking. You will tell no one of us, and if I ever come across your path again I will not hesitate to act on my threats.”

Yoongi releases the man allowing him to scramble away as he clutches his shoulder. The other three support their injured cohort as they run off. 

Yoongi takes hold of the horse from the ground once again, leading you off the road. “Their camp it’s just this way. They might have had some supplies which will be of use to us.”

You only nod in response unsure of what to say, after what you just witnessed. The first humans you had interacted with in years, and here they intended to rob you. 

The smoke of their smouldering fire draws you in. Yoongi’s hunch was right, they had a good deal of useful items. Rations for you, along with spare changes of clothes. He fills a bag and ties it on the saddle, leaving their stolen riches along with the blade behind for someone else to find. 

He mounts up behind you again, carrying on forward for some time before speaking again. “Are you well your highness? You’ve been very quiet.”

You give him another nod, while chewing on your lip. “Why south?”

“That’s where my own clan’s territory lies. If they try to pull something like that again they’ll regret it.” He shifts in the saddle behind you, “Back there, I-I didn't scare you did I?”

You fall silent again, unable to confess he somewhat had, but also that the terror of your fellow mankind outweighed his by far. You fear the idea of having crossed them alone. They would have taken advantage of your mercy, who knows where you would be now if it weren’t for the self-proclaimed guard at your side. 

Yoongi seems to take your lack of answer as confirmation of his worry. “I needed them to see me as a vicious monster, had they not backed off I would have had to become one. I’m sorry you had to witness the threat but it was necessary. I needed to terrify them for their sake and yours. I promise didn’t intend to frighten you, only to keep you safe. ” 

...

Coming close to the break of day you find rest this time in a small abandoned house. The windows shuttered completely to prevent even the smallest stream of light from entering. Unlike the night before Yoongi doesn’t light the lantern. It’s so dark inside that he has to lead you to an empty space of floor for you to rest on. He takes a couple steps away, giving you some space before settling down himself once again between you and the door.

“I’m not going to run, you’ve made your point, or I should say the thieves did.”

“I don’t rest between you and the exit to keep you here, but to stop others from entering,” Yoongi explains. “These spots I’ve scoped out, I am not alone in using them. They are how my kind travels, some might have found different places to rest away from the sun, but I can tell that others have used this location. Don’t go examining your surroundings too closely, you might not like what you find.”

Now thankful for the darkness, you take your bed roll from Yoongi. “Rest easy,” he mutters as you climb in between in the blankets.

“Not likely,” you whisper back. “But thank you.”

Unfortunately you are correct, your sleep is once again disturbed by Taehyung. You catch a glimpse of his face before you're surrounded by him. The darkness holds you in a suffocating grip, your mouth slowly filling with blood. You struggle trying to breath reaching out to take a hold of anything that would pull you out. 

A hand grabs on to the side of your face, another on to your arm. Finding the shine of Yoongi’s eyes once you're able to open your own, you gasp out to him begging for some sort of relief. “Can’t see... can’t breath...”

He picks you up only to set you back down on the floor a second later. There's a click and the front door opens to reveal a narrow shaft of sunlight. A single beam a couple inches wide, but it’s enough to dispel the darkness inside. Your eyes start to water, blinded by the light, but it’s far too warm and comforting to deny yourself the sight.    

To your disgust there’s a lingering taste of blood in your mouth. Reminding you of the shackles that still bind you to Taehyung as it continues to overwhelm your senses. Yoongi’s voice flows from the darkness just to the side of the door, his eyes glowing like that of a predator’s. “I think you might have bitten your tongue in your sleep, your highness.” 

He’s right, you find a sore spot as you press it to the roof of your mouth. You make an attempt to focus back on the sun. You sit there in silence letting your breath and heart return to a normal rate. All while Yoongi’s eyes continue to watch you, burning in the darkness. He apologizes for his gaze, but does not withdraw his attention, “Sorry but it’s been so long since I’ve seen someone bask in the sun. I’ve forgotten what it feels like myself...”

“How long?”

“I lost count around the century mark, but it’s likely been double that.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yes, but I understand. Immortality is a large price to pay, and every monster must have an equal weakness.”

“But I suppose, not everything it repels is a monster.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow as if he’s hiding a small smile in the darkness. “Dare I say, that sounds almost like a compliment?”

“Merely an observation,” you whisper, but your words trigger something inside you, a pain and longing which you can’t explain. “Yoongi, what were we to one another before...” Before Taehyung interrupted your life. “Please I know you don’t wish to speak for me, but I need to know your view of what we were.”

“We were friends, just friends.” He responds but you're not convinced, just friends do not wait outside the home of their enemy for five years. Just friends don’t put their entire life on hold for another. Just friends aren’t overwhelmed with the desires that seem to be returning to you now.

You’ve seen this expression on him before, you know you have. On the edge of your memories lies a dark cavernous stone built hall, one in which only you and him resided. You find him crumbling under the weight of what he is and what he’s lost because of that. Fragments of your words and his surface in your mind.

“You are not a monster Yoongi, I do not need saving from you!”

“If not from me, then at least from my kind. I cannot give you the life nor the safety which lies here... You would be better off if you forgot me entirely.”

You remember your wish to comfort him, to embrace him and prove that he has not lost everything because of what he is. With the recollection fading, falling from your grasp, you panic out of fear of losing the brief moment of memory. Closing the door you move towards Yoongi, the only focus you have of your previous life, hoping the scene in your mind might continue.

“I don’t need saving from you,” you mutter, blinded by the rapid loss of light, reaching out in an attempt to find him again. 

He takes your hand and holds it, his cool fingers trailing soothing lines over the mark on your palm. “If not from me, then at least from my kind,” he responds, following the path of your dialogue from long before. “You remember our last meeting?” 

“Only a fraction of it. I remember wanting to...” To confess to him, to kiss him, that was your past self was leaning towards. You thought well enough of him to desire an intimacy with one who feeds on others... that can’t be right. But even now you can start to see the appeal your younger self cared for. His soft touch on your hand, his calming presence, and protection, those are not qualities of a monster. And in the memory you were worried that he would reject your affection, that he would be the one to pull away, not you. “Did you ever desire to be more than friends?”

His eyes grow wide at your question, but his stance remains the same. “You know I will not answer that.” 

“But this is regarding your feelings, not my own!”

“I will say no more of us. I’ve told you far too much already.” He leaves the topic at that, directing you to your present state instead. ”There’s a few more hours before sunset... do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

You shake your head and move to sit with your back against the boards of the wall. Your reply is slow to come, and muddled with the first gasp of tears. “I can’t...” The prospect of closing your eyes again is too terrifying.

Yoongi comes to sit beside you, as he continues to hold your hand, his other arm wraps your shoulders as you let out the pain. A couple of hours ago you would have pushed him away out of fear, but with the spark of your past self craving his presence, who are you to deny the support it needs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I have to keep my view from you. I don’t want to add to the damage that has been done.”

“There is not more damage that could be done. All I have to remember is a few months spent in agony and terror. How can I find comfort or rest when that is all I have? I have no knowledge of who or what made me happy, or of what dreams chased away the nightmares.”

“An adventure,” Yoongi mutters, his head bowed to the floor as he concedes with another part of your past. “You always dreamed of having an adventure.” 

You let out a broken and weeping scoff, crestfallen that your ambitions to learn more only exposed a further divide. “I find that hard to believe.” 

“Your parents were overprotective, because of your brother's condition. You were forced to keep to the castle, you just longed for something different.” His thumb rubs along the back of your hand as he holds it. 

“But I don’t feel like one to see the risk of adventures as desirable.”

“You’ve been through much since then, fear has a way of changing what we want. I will admit I wished for you to be more careful back then, but never at a cost like this.” 

“I don’t know if I will ever be that person again...” You draw your knees to your chest letting your head lull to the side and onto him. 

“That’s okay,” His arm grips you tighter, as his face lowers to the top of your head. His lips briefly brush against your hair, before his cheek comes down to rest, taking their place. “That’s why I’m taking you home.” 

...

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Hey, i really like minecraft and used to watch mcyt's back when i was younger. I was wondering if you could maybe guide me into the dream smp series. I have no idea where to start or what people are partaking in it. It seems so active rn and you seem to be invested in the plotlines and such so i thought maybe you can help me?

Okay!

The Dream SMP: A History

Warnings for drugs, the selling of drugs, drinking, war, death, explosions, and human/fish relationships

So, once upon a time, there was a Minecraft server.

It didn't have much of a plot or drama, everyone was just kind of playing the game

Then Wilbur showed up.

An important thing to remember about this server: It’s all Wilbur’s fault, except when it’s Dream’s.

Anyway, Wilbur decided to start a Minecraft drug empire (re: potions) out of a hto dog van (I did not misspell that. It’s called the hto dog van).

But they all lived in Dream’s server (Dream is the main Ruler/God/Inconceivable Green Dude of the SMP) and under Dream’s rule. 

He interfered with their “drug” business, so Wilbur did the only logical thing: Declared independence and formed his own nation to sell more “drugs”!

The nation was called L’Manburg, but Dream wasn’t a fan of any of this

And so the Revolution began!!

Part One: The Disc Wars

The main players were Wilbur (the most theater kid of them all), Tommy (The closest thing to a shonen protagonist this thing has), Tubbo (sunshine personified, likes bees, can lie though), and Eret (fuck Eret /j) (In all seriousness, they're awesome)

It was a hard battle.

Dream had way more people. The revolutionaries were outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered, and out planned. And that was before Eret betrayed them.

Eret killed off all of their fellow revolutionaries in exchange for Dream giving them a kingdom.

All seemed lost (Tommy even tried to duel Dream despite being 16 and not the best at combat. He got killed quickly.)

Tommy hadn’t really cared about the revolution in the beginning, but at the end he gave up his most prized possessions (his music discs) to get Dream to leave them alone.

And L’Manburg was an independent nation!

Everyone celebrated in the ways they knew best

In Wilbur’s case, that was sleeping with a fish (yes. a fish. it was a salmon, if that clears anything up) named Sally and having a son: Fundy, furry extraordinaire!

Somehow the middle ground between Salmon and Human is Fox, as Fundy is an anthropomorphic fox.

He was the first person born in L’Manburg, and it seemed like there was to be peace throughout the land once more.

Take one flying guess who screwed that up.

Part Two: The Election

If you guessed Wilbur, we have a winner!

He decided that he needed to win an election to rule the country, and ran as POG 2020, or Wilbur for President.

But he wasn’t unopposed.

Enter Quackity (yes, this is the guy Trump vague tweeted), wanting power but being chill about it, as usual. He decided to throw his beanie into the political ring as Quackity 2020.

It seemed like an easy race, since Wilbur had liberated the nation and Quackity was just Some Guy at this point.

Then, Fundy and Nikki decided to run as Coconut 2020 in a third party bid for the presidency.

THEN, when Schlatt (senile old goat, the corrupt businessman archetype, often drunk) came up to the stage to endorse a candidate, he instead rambled into the mic that he was running for president too.

Like the senile old man they all thought he was.

Little did they know.

Wilbur still could have easily won this election. He was popular and everything. Then, he made a decision.

(Wilbur didn't need to do this, but like all tragic heroes and/or theater kids, he had hubris and was going to make it Everyone's Problem)

He went up to Quackity and suggested that they combine their votes. Quackity wasn't going to win either way, but this way he'd get to be vice president.

Quackity saw that it made sense, but decided that he wanted to be petty that day, and decided to combine votes with Schlatt instead.

And then the votes were counted

Team Coconut came in fourth because they cheated

Team Schlatt came in third because no one wanted the drunken, senile goat to be president

Team Quackity came in second

And Team Wilbur won in a landslide, taking 45% of the votes! 

Tommy ran out of the video to tell his mom they won. And then Wilbur revealed the deal Quackity and Schlatt struck. 

Quackity+Schlatt got 46% of the votes. Schlatt was president of L’Manburg. 

Schlatt immediately takes the podium and starts giving a dramatic speech that sounds less Senile Goat more Dangerous Dictator Goat. He orders that Team Wilbur leave the nation of L'Manburg Manburg (he renamed the country) under threat of death.

Part Three: The Festival

Team Wilbur became Pogtopia, Schlatt and crew became Manburg, and L'Manburg became a nostalgic dream.

The Pogtopians hope to reclaim their nation, and get this absolute madman on their team.

The dude spent a year just farming potatoes to beat someone in a contest. He regularly quotes The Art Of War. He's a die-hard anarchist.

Behold: Technoblade.

So Manburg is a dictatorship at this point in the tale, and Pogtopia is trying its best. 

They have Technoblade, Tommy, Wilbur, probably someone I'm forgetting, and Tubbo. 

Tubbo is their spy on the inside (so is Fundy, but he hasn't even told Pogtopia he's spying for them, so he's regarded as a traitor)

Then the Festival rolls around

Wilbur has been spiraling, and having a little corruption arc because of course the theater kid decides to kin Hamlet (or is it Macbeth in this situation?) 

A day before the festival, he reveals that he's planning on blowing up L'Manburg, because if he can't have it no one can.

The festival comes around, and surprise! Tubbo is publicly executed in front of a crowd!

Schlatt figured out he was a traitor, so he ordered that Techno execute him.

Techno did, but because he was peer pressured. 

Then Techno killed pretty much everyone at the festival with fireworks!

Wilbur tried to blow up the place, but lost the button to detonate the TNT (Side note: The TNT was given to him by Dream. Because of course.)

Part Four: The Revolution 2 (Electric Boogaloo)

By the time the true war for L’Manburg rolls around, next to no one is on Schlatt’s side.

Quackity betrays him, Fundy betrays him, even Eret is back on the side of Pogtopia.

The war went by fast, and Schlatt was surrounded by former allies and enemies alike.

Schlatt had a heart attack before anyone could actually kill him, and died as pathetically as he’d lived. Anti-climactic, but everyone was happy.

Wilbur declared Tommy, our protagonist, president.

Tommy declined the presidency, saying that he needed to search for his discs first. He declared Wilbur president of L’Manburg once more.

Wilbur declined the presidency and declared Tubbo president

Tubbo accepted and gave a lovely speech

And then it all goes to shit. "Surely not all of it?" Yeah. All of it.

Wilbur (yes. it was wilbur.) explodes L’Manburg, finally pressing the button to destroy his nation despite his dad trying to stop him.

His own father, Philza, kills him

Stabs the Wilbur

Everyone panicks

And that's when Techno decided it was Chaos Time.

He stands on the ashes of L'Manburg, and said that no government will be allowed to rise in the entire SMP. Tommy objects, and Techno gives this speech:

do you think you’re a hero, tommy?

the thing about this world tommy, is that good things don’t happen to heroes. let me tell you a story, tommy. a story about a man called theseus. his country—well his city-state technically—was in danger. and he sent himself forward into enemy lines. he slayed the minotaur and saved his city.

and you know what they did to him, tommy?

they exiled him. he died in disgrace, despised by his people. that’s what happens to heroes, tommy. the greeks knew the score. but if you want to be a hero, tommy. that’s fine.

do you want to be a hero tommy?

THEN DIE LIKE ONE.

And then he spawns two withers (one of which is named Subscribe To Technoblade) and all hell breaks loose.

Part Five: The Aftermath (aka Where Are They Now?)

Since then, Tubbo has been trying to rebuild L’Manburg. It’s a canal town now, and it looks lovely. He’s a good President.

Tommy isn’t the best Vice President, but once he stops banning people from the country he should be good.

Nikki has left the fox Wilbur gave her in Pogtopia.

Speaking of abandoned foxes, Fundy’s dealing with the death/betrayal of his dad, as well as not getting on that well with the others. He’s also engaged to Dream.

Yes, you read that right. Dream and Fundy are getting married. Fundy met their eldritch overlord on what was pretty much a blind date, and they just clicked.

Eret is adopting Fundy! She has no kingdom any more, but she’s recovered some honor and now has a son.

Philza is dealing with the fact that he killed his son, and may try to resurrect him.

Schlatt is still dead (but is he really gone?)

Quackity is....doing some worrisome things, getting vague tweeted at by Trump, ate Schlatt’s heart, and might be possessed by him??

Technoblade is still doing his own thing, I think

And Wilbur? Wilbur is an amnesiac ghost, blocking out the memories of when he was hurt or a bad person.

There’s way more to say on the subject of the Dream SMP, but this is the basics! Hope this helped!

[just-incorrect-beastars]

Beastars Fandom Interview!

This post starts a series of interviews I want to make to artists in this fandom! I’m really sorry for the delay with this, but I had to take care of some business irl! The first interview it’s with @dooptown, talented artist and writer of Craving More Than You’re Given, Beasts in The Stars and co-author of We’re Only Animals with @nilesthewhitetaileddeerqueer! Enjoy! If you want to submit other questions feel free to do it!

How did you get into the fandom?

My friend showed me its debut cover on Shonen Champion back in like 2016? At the time I thought the art looked weird so I put it on the backburner. Fast forward to May of 2017 and the same friend started reading it and recommended that I do as well. And the rest is history.

What do you feel about Beastars? Has it improved or not with the latest volumes?

My relationship with Beastars has definitely been complicated. If you go way back on my blog you're sure to find text posts of me complaining endlessly about it because that was back when I thought the whole thing would devolve into a romance story. I saw the romance between Haru and Legosi as forced and shallow (I don't think that anymore, although I do wish it was given more focus so we can really understand it). After the Meteor Festival Arc I got really invested in it, and I believe the Murder Solution Arc is the strongest in the story. The slice of life leaning of Legosi living on his own is really good too. Melon's introduction kind of marked the descent into the Weirdness we're seeing now. I love Melon to bits but the story right now is really weird and weird things keep happening. I still enjoy a handful of the chapters coming out currently, and the last few have been really great, but it's definitely not as good as it used to be. What I crave most from Beastars is slice of life.

Do you have a favorite character?

Overall? I'm not sure. I'll just say it's Louis.

You are considered one of the first Lougosi writers/artists and one of the most looked up to. How does it feel?

While there were certainly a handful of Lougosi fics before mine as well as some art, I do remember that ship being a bit barren when the manga wasn't as popular. I'm not aware of just how influential or far reaching my work with this ship is, since this is the internet and tracking that sort of thing is kind of impossible and I tend to be a bit of an aloof hermit. Knowing I'm relatively well known in a community I care a lot about is a nice feeling, though! But at the end of the day I'm a fan just like anyone else.

How has the fandom changed since you joined, especially since the anime came out?

It has blown up, that's for sure! The tumblr tag for Beastars back in 2017 was me and maybe four other regular posters, and I was the only artist posting consistent Beastars art back then (that I remember) As time went on it definitely gained in popularity, mostly by word of mouth, but even in March of 2019 it had a virtually empty Ao3 tag. So the anime, understandably, launched Beastars into the mainstream (or at least close to it). This is awesome and I love that it's seeing so much popularity and praise! Of course that also brings with it the ugliness of general Fandom Drama. Beastars Discourse is the most unwelcome thing to come of this popularity and it's the reason I no longer track the tag here on tumblr or look it up on twitter.

Your art is very popular. Have you ever thought of making a comic?

I would like to make comics but comic layout is intimidating and so is the whole process. Maybe one day.

 3 fics that you would recommend?

serendipity by elkieistrying

  Want a Haru/Juno story with a nice helping of Lougosi on the side? Serendipity can scratch that itch. Both ships are very well written and I love the characterization so much in this story.

Ashfall by Skeptacles

This fic doesn't seem to have many hits, and I think that's because people are turned away by it being a Game of Thrones crossover. As someone who has never read, watched, or even knows anything about Game of Thrones, I can say this fic is a great read! Skeptacles presents the setting and worldbuilding in an easy to understand way and if you have no GoT knowledge like I do, it simply seems like a Beastars Fantasy story.

To one I am tied, to the other I am true by Sinpie_Senpai 

This was the first Lougosi fic I ever read, and it is the second English Lougosi fic on Ao3. It was very influential to my decision to start writing Lougosi fic, and if you haven't read it yet I think you should.

How much have you worked on merging the manga’s plot and your story for Craving More Than You’re Given?

For CMTYG the merging of the plot just happened naturally. I started it in March of 2019 so at that point Legosi just had his birthday and hadn't seen Louis in a while, so I figured a birthday party would be a good reason for them to meet again. I wrote from there while also paying attention to where the canon plot was going to see what I wanted to incorporate.

You think you're gonna include the turf war in your fic? And are there any new characters you want to include?

Since this story was conceived long before this manga plot started, I won't be including it. Things are going to go very differently. As for new characters, I don't think so.

What inspired Beasts in the Stars?

As for Beasts in the Stars, I've always been a Sci fi fan. This story is loosely based on an AU I made for my OCs back in 2015, as well as some Sci fi ideas I've had bouncing around in my head for years. I can't point to any specific inspirations, but people compare it to Cowboy Bebop, which I can see since both of a laid back hard Sci fi aesthetic. I also write Star Fox fanfic, so I’m definitely using some of my experience from that. 

Legosi in the fic is homosexual or what? What about Louis?

Their sexualities will be explained, but I usually work off my headcanon of Legosi being bi and Louis being gay.

What other characters do you want to include in Beasts in the Stars?

BITS will hopefully include virtually every character from Beastars in some capacity.

What's the difference between writing a story more anchored to the manga and one that isn't?

Writing a fic that's manga-compliant is fun because you have to take into consideration past actions in the story and make sure it lines up with what they're doing in the fic. Of course, there's less freedom there, so that's why writing an AU also has its positives. Using the characters as a base to work off of in a new setting is very exciting.

Any spoilers you would like to share for both of them?

CMTYG: Next chapter is being written, and the summer clothes Legosi pics I've been drawing definitely play a role ;) 

BITS: Next canon characters you'll be seeing are the Drama Club folks. I hope people enjoy how I adapted them for this story.

And this was it! If you are an artist in the fandom and you want to partecipate to this please feel free to write me, I’ll get back at you as soon as possible!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #381

“don’t try to be the one person who has stayed just to say they never left me”

Do you feel bored with your life? Always. Do you miss anyone who was mean to you in the past? I sometimes miss Colleen, but I know it's for the better that we no longer associate with each other. What’s the most weight you’ve ever gained from a medication? I don't know, but a fuck of a lot. Thanks, Abilify. Have you ever been suicidal? Yes. Do you pray? If yes, to whom? No. What do you miss about high school? Memories with Jason. What do you miss the most about college? Socializing. What was the best date you’ve ever been on? A triple date to an arcade w/ Jason and friends. What’s the last great song you discovered? The most recent one? I don't know, really. Do you feel free to post how you feel on Facebook? Yeah. Don't like what I post, delete me. Have you ever done cocaine? Yikes, no thanks. Do you think you’ll ever get married? Do you want to? I sometimes wonder if I ever will. I'm scared of just continuing to be an unemployed leech that is doing nothing significant with her life, in which case it's like, why even be with me romantically. I feel like such a dead end street. I want to get married someday. Who do you care about the most? When it comes down to it, probably my mom. Have you ever made out on a couch? Yeah. Would you ever get gauged ears? I want small gauges, actually. When it comes to clothing, are you the conservative type? Yes, because I hate my body and don't want others to see it. Do you enjoy eating? I wish I didn't. Have you ever ridden in a race car? No. Do you go out of your way to impress the opposite gender? No. Do you enjoy history? Not really, no. It bores me. Are you a pajama person or do you stay dressed all day? I'm just about always in my pjs. Do you value looks or personality more? Personality is way more important. Have you ever changed religions? Yeah. Born Roman Catholic, converted to Christianity when I further understood the differences, then I went to how I am now: I believe in something(s), but I don't quite know what. I wouldn't call myself a Neo-Pagan, but it's what I relate most to. Would you ever wear fake eyelashes? I would for like, my wedding. Foo fighters vs. Red Hot Chili Peppers: I'm actually not a big fan of either. Are you a fan of the SAW movies? I don't really watch them. Do you ever forget how old your siblings are? My two immediate sisters, I'm sometimes a year off. All my others, yes. :x Mountain Dew or Sprite? Mountain Dew, of course. I really don't like Sprite now, which is ironic because as a kid, it was my favorite soda. Could you ever give yourself a shot? Yeah. Have you ever worked as a cashier? That was one of my duties when I worked at a dollar store. If you are on birth control that allows you take pills and skip your period, how often do you opt to skip it? How come? My birth control doesn't allow me to skip, but rather, it regulates it. Is there a book series where you loved the first book, but for some reason the other books in the series just didn’t measure up? I can't say that, no, as most series I just kinda fell out of, like The Hunger Games. LOVED the first book, started the second, and even though I was enjoying it, I just stopped for some reason? Are there any stores/restaurants that you would like to shop/eat at, but there aren’t any located near enough to you? Haha yeah, like lots of west coast fast food places like Jack n' the Box or however it's formatted. If you were told by a professional that you were unable to become pregnant, how would that affect you? Is there something important to you about conceiving a biological child rather than adoption? And finally, if you even want to have children, would you choose adoption or surrogacy or would you go on childless? I don't even want kids, so honestly, I'd be stoked if I learned I was infertile. Wouldn't need to worry about the chance of getting pregnant and facing an abortion dilemma. Is there something that you did not used to take seriously, that you either now take seriously or wish that you had in the past (e.g., a relationship that you miss, your education, etc.)? Hm. I don't know. Are there any subjects that you are interested in so much that you would read whole books or academic journals about them? Meerkats, especially. I will read EVERY scientific article about them I find. Are you physically affectionate with your friends? I'm a hugger. When you were in middle school and high school, did you witness a lot of bullying? How did the teachers react to name-calling or violence? Not really, thankfully. Are any of your friends/relatives actually impressive artists or writers? Are you willing to share an example of their work? Yeah. I have a cousin who's really good at drawing, and my sister is a wonderful cake decorator. Do you drink more apple or orange juice? Orange. Could you forgive your best friend for sleeping with your gf/bf? My hypothetical bf/gf, no. Would you ever donate blood? I have before, and I would again if I knew I was hydrated enough and the opportunity was right there. Would you rather drink coffee or tea? Ugh, neither. Do you get easily embarrassed? YES. How long was your longest make out? TMI alert, like all night. If the person who hurt you most said they’re sorry would you believe them? I honestly don't know. Do you have sensitive skin? Very. What color is your mum's car? White. Do you live in an apartment? No. Do you have a pet fish? Nope. Are you happy with your eye color? I wish they were a more sapphire blue. Solid soap bar or liquid body wash? Absolutely liquid body wash. What color do you want your dream car to be? Baby pink. *-* Do you have more then one favorite band? I say I do, but at the same time I know Ozzy Osbourne will ALWAYS be #1. Do you prefer being single or in a relationship? In a relationship. But it's absolutely not something I'm about to force just for the sake of being in one. Would you be really upset if Facebook ceased to exist tomorrow? Nah. Have you or would you try shark meat? No to both. Do you know anyone that's pescatarian? No. Someone I watch on YouTube is, though. Are you shy or over confident around your crushes? Super shy. Do you think the govt. has a cure for cancer, but is hiding it from public? Hell, I think it's very well possible, but I lean more towards for financial hoarding, they simply don't further pursue potential cures that are discovered. I mean, just THINK about all the "future cures" you've read or heard about. It's fucking outrageous. It's all to fuel the medical industry. Okay, tin hat coming off. Last time you drank a diet soda? A very long time ago, because diet soda gives me a massive headache. Was your ex born in America? Only one wasn't. Name your favorite type of music and why. Metal. I for one just like the sound, and I find it very therapeutic when I'm especially mad or sad. Even when I'm in a good mood, I just enjoy it. I also feel that a lot of metal songs tell interesting stories and/or have very poetic lyrics. Do you own or have you read, or thought of reading any self-help books? I haven't, but I've considered it. Can you breakdance? Definitely not. Have you ever read a book and not understood it? If so which one? Yes. We were assigned this one war novel in middle school that was FUCKING AWFUL, like I was checked out the whole time. I don't remember its name or anything. Have you ever watched a movie and not understood it? If so which one? Yes; the Warcraft movie I mentioned in a recent survey. Orcs and their fucking deep-ass voice that I couldn't understand. Do you blowdry your hair? No. Tell me about your dream last night. Omfgggggg y'all. So, there's one invert pet that I've never understood the keeping appeal of, and that's giant centipedes. Their bites are notoriously excruciating, and they are just SO goddamn fast. Well, for some godforsaken reason, I wanted one as a pet. Got one, and it immediately got loose. Guess who wanted to shit herself lmao. Centipedes are very cool, but only from a distance, ya feel? Have you ever stayed in a fancy high-class rich hotel? No. Have you ever stayed in a rent-by-the-hour motel? I don't think so. Describe the worst fight you’ve ever been in whether physical or verbal. I'm not entirely sure about my *worst*, but I know it was with Mom. We've had a few. Have you heated any food in your microwave today? Yeah, a shrimp alfredo Lean Cuisine bowl. Do you own any items of clothing with cartoon characters on them? Yes. Have you ever played Animal Crossing? No, it doesn't seem like my kinda game. Do you own anything (e.g jewelry, accessories) with your initial on it? Yes, but none of which I personally bought because I don't really like them. Do you own any cats or dogs? What are their names? I have a cat named Roman. <3 Have you added any books to your shelves lately? Which? No. Have you bought any new cosmetics or toiletries lately? Which? No. Do your pets have a specific type of food that they prefer? Roman will eat whatever cat food he's given, while Venus, like your average ball python, is a picky eater. Like when I first got her, she wouldn't eat for almost a year because I just couldn't find a method through which she'd accept food. Now she consistently takes frozen/thawed small rats that have actually sat in warm water (versus doing it by hand under running water), and she generally won't strike it unless it's offered to her by tongs, but not dangling by the tail. Picky, picky miss thang. What's your favourite variety of apple? I'm not very particular about flavor so long as the apple is crisp. I canNOT do soft apples. Which of your physical features do you receive the most compliments about? My hair.

[doomonfilm]

Ranking : Marvel Cinematic Universe - The Infinity Saga (2008 - 2019)

Outside of the Star Wars or James Bond franchises (or maybe even the longstanding BBC series Dr. Who), I am hard pressed to think of a bigger, more intricately connected set of films than those created by Kevin Feige for his Marvel Cinematic Universe (better known as the MCU to most people).  With the help of numerous established and upcoming stars, a vast range of directors, and a rich history of characters and events the studio could play fast and loose with, Marvel Studios spent roughly a decade transforming “comic book” films from gimmicks into legitimized artistic storytelling, forcing many studios to attempt and emulate the success of a connected “cinematic universe” without laying the groundwork needed to do so.

With WandaVision in motion on Disney+, and the release future of Black Widow still up in the air, the trajectory in which the MCU will move forward is still a mystery, but these properties firmly close the door on the initial three phases of Marvel Studios releases, collectively known as The Infinity Saga due to their connection to Thanos and the six Infinity Stones.  Individually, many of these pieces had impact, but as a whole, the overarching story that they tell is an epic feat yet to be matched. 

But enough preamble, I know what everybody came here for.  So, based solely on my opinion and nothing else, here is The Infinity Saga, as presented by Marvel Studios, ranked from least to most favorite...

23. The Incredible Hulk (2008) It’s a shame that my favorite Marvel character seems to be a conundrum when it comes to giving him a solo movie.  With a decent slice of these characters, it’s about casting the “normal” version of the character, and in the case of this film, as great of an actor as Edward Norton is, I am not sure if he can play enough self-sabotaging behaviors to believably provide us with a Bruce Banner that audiences can connect with.  As a result, The Incredible Hulk left us with an isolated protagonist (literally and figuratively) forced to carry audiences between long stretches absent of Hulk in his green glory.

22. Thor (2011) For a time, it seemed as if Thor was going to be the realm of the MCU where gravitas resided.  The Shakespearean approach to mythic heroes adapted by Marvel was fresh at the time, as Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, Black Widow and S.H.I.E.L.D. were around, but certainly more relatable.  Bringing Thor, Odin, Loki and a host of other legendary Asgardians into the fold broadened the world, but with the entire picture of this stretch now laid out in front of us, it is clear that Chris Hemsworth had not yet found his voice as Thor.  We knew he would have to earn his worthiness and his title as King of Asgard, but I doubt anyone anticipated Thor would become one of the consistently funniest aspects of the MCU... sadly, that was not yet developed in his first film, and as a result, his introduction falls to the lower realms of the list.

21. Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018)

20. Ant-Man (2015) It was not my intention to lump the Ant-Man movies together, but in all honestly, they do work best in that capacity.  The events of both movies, for the most part, seem to satellite around the bigger nucleus narrative, and up until Avengers : Endgame, and appearance made by Ant-Man in the other films was cursory or meant to “balance the scales” (as in the case of Captain America : Civil War).  Don’t get me wrong... Paul Rudd is a fabulous addition to the MCU family, and listening to Michael Peña tell stories never gets old, but when it comes down to the big picture, Ant-Man and his two films are not the largest puzzle pieces on the table.

19. Captain Marvel (2019) The possibilities for an epic film were all there... Krees and Skrulls would finally get a chance at the spotlight, we were being teased going back in time without realizing how it would play into the resolution of our Infinity Saga storyline, and the final moments of the film made us question everything we’d been presented with up until that point.  Sadly, however, Carol Danvers turned out to be an extremely overpowered and dangerously self-unaware character, resulting in a lack of stakes or emotional connection ever really being established.  While Captain Marvel does have fun elements to it, much of the work that managed to stick was undone by her forced and underwhelming appearance in Avengers : Endgame.  Of all the properties in the MCU, this one seems to have the most whispers and rumors surrounding it in regards to its production and future within the MCU moving forward, but I will be curious to see how time treats this film.

18. Iron Man 3 (2013) Up through Phase Two of The Infinity Saga, Tony Stark was always positioned as the loner of the group.  With that in mind, it does seem a bit strange to me that his final solo film, and the first solo film after Marvel’s The Avengers, would find Tony back in isolation mode so vigorously.  In all fairness, War Machine is there (during his brief stint as The Patriot), and Pepper Potts is given the most room to play out of all three films, but as interesting as the antagonist structure for the film is, the convoluted nature of having at least three tiers of villainy almost begs the inclusion of at least one more Avenger.  Ultimately, the film does move Tony closer to the rest of the camp, but it’s odd that more Avengers weren’t involved in the actual film. 

17. Captain America : The First Avenger (2011) Of all the characters fans were presented with in the MCU, it’s hard to argue against the fact that Captain America received the most rewarding arc of any character in The Infinity Saga.  Every journey needs a starting point, and simply because it was the origin story, Captain America : The First Avenger was never destined to be the best of the MCU.  Visually, the MCU was still figuring a few things out, so some of the scrawny Cap scenes look awkward, but by the time this film is all said and done, all of the honor, character and heart needed to propel Cap forward was present and accounted for.

16. Thor : The Dark World (2013)

15. Iron Man 2 (2010) Maybe it’s a recencey bias thing, but I really enjoyed Thor : The Dark World and Iron Man 2.  Up until deciding to make this list, I’d not seen either of these films, and it was largely due to the negative reactions I’d heard from most fans and critics.  Thor : The Dark World gave us brief glimpses of where the Thor character was headed, it was a great look for Jane Foster (who is seemingly on her way back into the mix), it opened up some mystic doors that we will likely be exploring moving forward in the MCU, and due to these mystic elements, we may have seen the beginnings of S.W.O.R.D., who is already making its presence felt in Phase Four.  As for Iron Man 2, we are given the polar opposite Tony Stark from his introductory movie, and due to his seemingly unstoppable mission to erase himself, War Machine is given autonomy, and the beginnings of the Iron Legion are built.  Perhaps its a bit of a revisionist lens as well, hence these two being grouped together, but time seems to have been very kind to these two films, despite their flaws.

14. Spider-Man : Far From Home (2019) Avengers : Endgame would have been a perfect place to close the door on The Infinity Saga, but that monumental task was appointed to Spider-Man : Far From Home.  Perhaps it was that implied burden that made the film feel a bit buried under the weight of expectations.  There are certainly calls to a post-Tony Stark snap present throughout the film, but Mysterio’s plan runs seemingly independent of any previous events shown.  The mid and post-credit scenes certainly tease big things for the future, but even before COVID-19 flipped the script on the industry, it was uncertain where things where headed as the new phase unrolled.  This film was enjoyable, but almost feels like a stand-alone trapped on a bridge between two worlds of narrative.

13. Iron Man (2008) The one that started it all.  I’ve never been the biggest Iron Man fan, but I can certainly respect the large risk that Kevin Feige took by kickstarting his empire with a character seemingly caught between fame and obscurity.  Tony Stark has enough Bruce Wayne in him to make him an intriguing character, but Iron Man and Batman could not be more different from one another, which immediately gave the MCU a fresh feel in light of them using a Silver Age character.  The pool of household name talent was limited, as Sony was sitting on Spider-Man, the X-men and the Fantastic Four in 2008, but ultimately, Iron Man was a roll of the dice that paid off in a major way. 

12. Spider-Man : Homecoming (2017) Spider-Man is such an iconic character that it is sometimes hard to believe that he was not always involved in The Infinity Saga.  Tobey Maguire was the definitive Spider-Man to many fans, and Andrew Garfield was starting to build a cult following, but after a bit of legal ping-pong, Captain America : Civil War went from being an anticipated mess to possibly a shadow of its comic book counterpart when Spider-Man appeared in the trailer.  Tom Holland brought a pitch-perfect voice and sensibility to the character, and Spider-Man : Homecoming drove those feelings home (no pun intended).  It wasn’t like Spider-Man needed a boost in tandem with his entry into the MCU, but his introductory movie did most everything right (including assuming we were WELL AWARE of his often repeated origin story).

11. Guardians of the Galaxy (2014) Out of everyone that the MCU has introduced to the masses, it is safe to say that I knew the least about the Guardians of the Galaxy... in fact, my closest tie to knowledge of their existence came in the form of Howard the Duck, who shares that section of the Marvel comic universe with them.  Marvel Studios had already made me enjoy films about Thor and Iron Man, two characters I did not consider myself a fan of prior to their films, so I went out on a limb in hopes that Marvel could sell me on characters I had zero connection to.  Guardians of the Galaxy did provide another set of colors in the Marvel spectrum, and it helped open the door to Marvel’s space-centered stories, but it wasn’t until the sequel that I went back and really found an appreciation for Guardians of the Galaxy, which I will expound later.  That being said, Guardians of the Galaxy is another Marvel film that has been benefited by time and revisitation.

10. Marvel's The Avengers (2012) The main pieces had found their way to the board by the time Captain America : The First Avenger was released, and it only seemed like a matter of time before the big players would cross paths.  Rather than build to a mass collaboration via smaller duos and groupings, Marvel went all in to close Phase One by locking in The Avengers as the collective stars of The Infinity Saga.  Loki found new agency as their protagonist, but he was really just a smokescreen for the big bad of the entire saga, Thanos.  The entire run of 23 movies can be summed up or represented by the iconic shot that rotates around our heroes when they stand shoulder to shoulder for the first time, staring up at their enemy emerging from the sky.  There was no turning back at this point, and this is largely due to the wonderful execution of one of the MCU’s key films.

9. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (2017) I’m really not sure why Guardians of the Galaxy didn’t connect for me initially, but after watching Vol. 2, I felt a deeper understanding of Peter Quill, the relationship between Gamora and Nebula, and I came to love Groot and Drax even more (who didn’t immediately love Rocket Racoon?).  Kurt Russell was the evolved mirror to Chris Pratt that I didn’t know I needed, and the soundtrack contained more songs that spoke directly to me than the first film.  Some of the set pieces were downright beautiful in this film, I lowkey became a big fan of Mantis, and Yondu’s story culmination may have been the first time the MCU brought a tear to my eye.  Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 may deceptively be the most emotionally powerful of all the MCU films, short of Avengers : Infinity War, and for that, it must be respected, considering it all came from a little known band of upstarts.

8. Captain America : Civil War (2016) While Marvel’s The Avengers may be the first true “event” film in the MCU, the first major “event” attempted in terms of historic Marvel stories was the infamous Civil War run.  A weird mix of anticipation and fear existed in the time preceding the film’s release, as a number of key players from the comic book storyline were either not available to the MCU or had not yet been introduced into the MCU.  Speculation between who would be emerging, omitted and adjusted flew back and forth, but in the end, we were not only presented with a riveting triangle of emotion between Tony Stark, Steve Rogers and Bucky, but Spider-Man and Black Panther stepped into the spotlight (with a little dose of Ant-Man thrown in for good measure).  Had the MCU waited for a different phase, there’s no telling how many heroes and villains could have ultimately been involved, but considering what they had at the time, the MCU definitely exceeded expectations and created their own iconic version of a Marvel narrative hallmark.

7. Black Panther (2018) Outside of the final two Avenger’s, there wasn’t a more anticipated or well-received release (to my knowledge) than Black Panther.  After bursting onto the scene in Captain America : Civil War, it seemed everyone was ready for more of King T'Challa, Black Panther and Wakanda.  Chadwick Boseman became even more of a fan favorite than he already was, and Black Panther became the first MCU film to be nominated for Best Picture at the 2019 Academy Awards.  Marvel presented Wakanda, and Africa in turn, with the utmost cultural, historical and social respect, and short of a slightly underwhelming finale in terms of visual effects, it was hard to hang a complaint on Black Panther.  If the MCU had to pick a single film that they were most proud of, I would not be surprised if this was the one that was chosen.

6. Doctor Strange (2016) As a fan of science fiction, mysticism and overall weirdness, I was incredibly hype for the announcement and release of Doctor Strange.  Of all the active characters in the MCU at the time, Doctor Strange was the most obscure that I was already familiar with, and his introductory film did not disappoint.  The visual representation of the mystic arts was brilliant, casting Tilda Swinton as The Ancient One was a stroke of genius (despite many that voiced reservation to the choice), and the introduction of different dimensions and realms to the MCU hinted at the future that was to come.  With Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness coming in sooner than later, it is almost certain that I will be revisiting this film, and I hope that as time goes by, it finds a bigger audience with a deeper appreciation for it. 

5. Thor : Ragnarok (2017) If I think about it hard enough, I can probably find a character that will contradict this statement, but I’m hard pressed to think of a character than took a bigger personality jump between individual films than Thor did between The Dark World and Ragnarok.  We got shades of a new Thor in The Dark World, and he was really starting to come out of his shell in Avengers : Age of Ultron, but I’m not sure if anyone expected for Taika Waititi to not only turn Thor into possibly the most loveable Avenger, but make his third film a psychedelic masterpiece of fun.  Thor and Loki have never had better chemistry, Cate Blanchett was surprisingly well cast as Hela, and most everyone’s favorite MCU iteration of the Hulk came to life (not to mention a brief nod to Beta Ray Bill being present for keen viewers).  It may not be the best film in the MCU, but Thor : Ragnarok is almost certainly the one viewers gravitate towards if they make a quick selection.

4. Avengers : Endgame (2019) How do you end a story arc that spans more than 20 films?  Well, for starters, you bring every character to the table, collect every expectation that fans have for them, and then kick all of those expectations to the side and forge a completely wild, new and unexpected path.  For a large portion of Endgame’s runtime, it is tonally and stylistically different than any other Avengers film, but near the end, when the rubber hits the road, Thanos and his legions of followers take part in one of the most epically satisfying stands against our heroes already present, only for the world of the MCU to open up and rain the most enjoyable and acceptable fan service ever to be captured to film, including the most iconic Captain America moment of all time.  

3. Avengers : Age of Ultron (2015) For a long while, this film stood as my clear-cut favorite in the MCU.  I didn’t even know I was a Vision fan until he emerged from his chamber, and the introduction of Scarlet Witch has brought me nothing but joy.  David Spader brought some of the best antagonist personality in his powerful portrayal of Ultron, and the party scene provided one of my favorite non-action sequences in all of the MCU.  The interactions between the Avengers had the best balance of all their collaborative films during Age of Ultron, and Scarlet Witch took each of our heroes to the darkest corners of their mind.  Perhaps people had other ideas in mind when they learned that Tony and Bruce’s murderbot was due for a screen appearance, but for my money’s worth, Age of Ultron was the first Avengers film that blew my mind, and still stands as my personal favorite of the Avengers movies.

2. Avengers : Infinity War (2018) Easily the most epic of all the MCU films, Infinity War set the stage for a truly iconic struggle between the Earth’s mightiest heroes and the seemingly unstoppable Thanos that had been promised over many, many films, and in the opening rounds, Infinity War delivered.  For all of the combinations of characters we’d been provided, we’d yet to see Tony interact with Doctor Strange or Star-Lord, and each of those meetings yielded hilarious results.  The stakes had never been higher prior to Infinity War, and the costs had not been greater up to this point.  I personally remember people in theaters being nearly moved to tears when their favorite heroes (especially Spider-Man) began turning into dust, like they were watching Schindler’s List.  If the MCU collectively raised the bar for comic book movies, then Infinity War raised the bar for the MCU. 

1. Captain America : The Winter Soldier (2014) The MCU has more than a handful of classic films under their belt, but Captain America : The Winter Soldier is probably the sole film of the MCU that feels like a proper action/adventure suspense-thriller, like it was penned by John Grisham.  The connection between Bucky and Cap is kinetic in its swings between impending hope and tragedy, and the level of combat and action in the film is second to none.  This was the film where the Cap that the masses know and love stepped into his own as a hero and a leader.  Of all the directors that Marvel Studios has tapped, the Russo Brothers seem to have the secrets unlocked to make a great MCU film, and Captain America : The Winter Soldier is the pound for pound best they’ve offered yet.

[orangecreamsicleyt]

The history of all hitherto existing societies is the history of class struggles.

Freeman and slave, patrician and plebeian, lord and serf, guild-master and journeyman, in a word, oppressor and oppressed, stood in constant opposition to one another, carried on an uninterrupted, now hidden, now open fight, a fight that each time ended, either in a revolutionary re-constitution of society at large, or in the common ruin of the contending classes.

In the earlier epochs of history, we find almost everywhere a complicated arrangement of society into various orders, a manifold gradation of social rank. In ancient Rome we have patricians, knights, plebeians, slaves; in the Middle Ages, feudal lords, vassals, guild-masters, journeymen, apprentices, serfs; in almost all of these classes, again, subordinate gradations.

The modern bourgeois society that has sprouted from the ruins of feudal society has not done away with class antagonisms. It has but established new classes, new conditions of oppression, new forms of struggle in place of the old ones. Our epoch, the epoch of the bourgeoisie, possesses, however, this distinctive feature: it has simplified the class antagonisms. Society as a whole is more and more splitting up into two great hostile camps, into two great classes, directly facing each other: Bourgeoisie and Proletariat.

From the serfs of the Middle Ages sprang the chartered burghers of the earliest towns. From these burgesses the first elements of the bourgeoisie were developed.

The discovery of America, the rounding of the Cape, opened up fresh ground for the rising bourgeoisie. The East-Indian and Chinese markets, the colonisation of America, trade with the colonies, the increase in the means of exchange and in commodities generally, gave to commerce, to navigation, to industry, an impulse never before known, and thereby, to the revolutionary element in the tottering feudal society, a rapid development.

The feudal system of industry, under which industrial production was monopolised by closed guilds, now no longer sufficed for the growing wants of the new markets. The manufacturing system took its place. The guild-masters were pushed on one side by the manufacturing middle class; division of labour between the different corporate guilds vanished in the face of division of labour in each single workshop.

Meantime the markets kept ever growing, the demand ever rising. Even manufacture no longer sufficed. Thereupon, steam and machinery revolutionised industrial production. The place of manufacture was taken by the giant, Modern Industry, the place of the industrial middle class, by industrial millionaires, the leaders of whole industrial armies, the modern bourgeois.

Modern industry has established the world-market, for which the discovery of America paved the way. This market has given an immense development to commerce, to navigation, to communication by land. This development has, in its time, reacted on the extension of industry; and in proportion as industry, commerce, navigation, railways extended, in the same proportion the bourgeoisie developed, increased its capital, and pushed into the background every class handed down from the Middle Ages.

We see, therefore, how the modern bourgeoisie is itself the product of a long course of development, of a series of revolutions in the modes of production and of exchange.

Each step in the development of the bourgeoisie was accompanied by a corresponding political advance of that class. An oppressed class under the sway of the feudal nobility, an armed and self-governing association in the mediaeval commune; here independent urban republic (as in Italy and Germany), there taxable "third estate" of the monarchy (as in France), afterwards, in the period of manufacture proper, serving either the semi-feudal or the absolute monarchy as a counterpoise against the nobility, and, in fact, corner-stone of the great monarchies in general, the bourgeoisie has at last, since the establishment of Modern Industry and of the world-market, conquered for itself, in the modern representative State, exclusive political sway. The executive of the modern State is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie.

The bourgeoisie, historically, has played a most revolutionary part.

The bourgeoisie, wherever it has got the upper hand, has put an end to all feudal, patriarchal, idyllic relations. It has pitilessly torn asunder the motley feudal ties that bound man to his "natural superiors," and has left remaining no other nexus between man and man than naked self-interest, than callous "cash payment." It has drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervour, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical calculation. It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of the numberless and indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, unconscionable freedom—Free Trade. In one word, for exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation.

The bourgeoisie has stripped of its halo every occupation hitherto honoured and looked up to with reverent awe. It has converted the physician, the lawyer, the priest, the poet, the man of science, into its paid wage labourers.

The bourgeoisie has torn away from the family its sentimental veil, and has reduced the family relation to a mere money relation.

The bourgeoisie has disclosed how it came to pass that the brutal display of vigour in the Middle Ages, which Reactionists so much admire, found its fitting complement in the most slothful indolence. It has been the first to show what man's activity can bring about. It has accomplished wonders far surpassing Egyptian pyramids, Roman aqueducts, and Gothic cathedrals; it has conducted expeditions that put in the shade all former Exoduses of nations and crusades.

The bourgeoisie cannot exist without constantly revolutionising the instruments of production, and thereby the relations of production, and with them the whole relations of society. Conservation of the old modes of production in unaltered form, was, on the contrary, the first condition of existence for all earlier industrial classes. Constant revolutionising of production, uninterrupted disturbance of all social conditions, everlasting uncertainty and agitation distinguish the bourgeois epoch from all earlier ones. All fixed, fast-frozen relations, with their train of ancient and venerable prejudices and opinions, are swept away, all new-formed ones become antiquated before they can ossify. All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned, and man is at last compelled to face with sober senses, his real conditions of life, and his relations with his kind.

The need of a constantly expanding market for its products chases the bourgeoisie over the whole surface of the globe. It must nestle everywhere, settle everywhere, establish connexions everywhere.

The bourgeoisie has through its exploitation of the world-market given a cosmopolitan character to production and consumption in every country. To the great chagrin of Reactionists, it has drawn from under the feet of industry the national ground on which it stood. All old-established national industries have been destroyed or are daily being destroyed. They are dislodged by new industries, whose introduction becomes a life and death question for all civilised nations, by industries that no longer work up indigenous raw material, but raw material drawn from the remotest zones; industries whose products are consumed, not only at home, but in every quarter of the globe. In place of the old wants, satisfied by the productions of the country, we find new wants, requiring for their satisfaction the products of distant lands and climes. In place of the old local and national seclusion and self-sufficiency, we have intercourse in every direction, universal inter-dependence of nations. And as in material, so also in intellectual production. The intellectual creations of individual nations become common property. National one-sidedness and narrow-mindedness become more and more impossible, and from the numerous national and local literatures, there arises a world literature.

The bourgeoisie, by the rapid improvement of all instruments of production, by the immensely facilitated means of communication, draws all, even the most barbarian, nations into civilisation. The cheap prices of its commodities are the heavy artillery with which it batters down all Chinese walls, with which it forces the barbarians' intensely obstinate hatred of foreigners to capitulate. It compels all nations, on pain of extinction, to adopt the bourgeois mode of production; it compels them to introduce what it calls civilisation into their midst, i.e., to become bourgeois themselves. In one word, it creates a world after its own image.

The bourgeoisie has subjected the country to the rule of the towns. It has created enormous cities, has greatly increased the urban population as compared with the rural, and has thus rescued a considerable part of the population from the idiocy of rural life. Just as it has made the country dependent on the towns, so it has made barbarian and semi-barbarian countries dependent on the civilised ones, nations of peasants on nations of bourgeois, the East on the West.

The bourgeoisie keeps more and more doing away with the scattered state of the population, of the means of production, and of property. It has agglomerated production, and has concentrated property in a few hands. The necessary consequence of this was political centralisation. Independent, or but loosely connected provinces, with separate interests, laws, governments and systems of taxation, became lumped together into one nation, with one government, one code of laws, one national class-interest, one frontier and one customs-tariff. The bourgeoisie, during its rule of scarce one hundred years, has created more massive and more colossal productive forces than have all preceding generations together. Subjection of Nature's forces to man, machinery, application of chemistry to industry and agriculture, steam-navigation, railways, electric telegraphs, clearing of whole continents for cultivation, canalisation of rivers, whole populations conjured out of the ground—what earlier century had even a presentiment that such productive forces slumbered in the lap of social labour?

We see then: the means of production and of exchange, on whose foundation the bourgeoisie built itself up, were generated in feudal society. At a certain stage in the development of these means of production and of exchange, the conditions under which feudal society produced and exchanged, the feudal organisation of agriculture and manufacturing industry, in one word, the feudal relations of property became no longer compatible with the already developed productive forces; they became so many fetters. They had to be burst asunder; they were burst asunder.

Into their place stepped free competition, accompanied by a social and political constitution adapted to it, and by the economical and political sway of the bourgeois class.

A similar movement is going on before our own eyes. Modern bourgeois society with its relations of production, of exchange and of property, a society that has conjured up such gigantic means of production and of exchange, is like the sorcerer, who is no longer able to control the powers of the nether world whom he has called up by his spells. For many a decade past the history of industry and commerce is but the history of the revolt of modern productive forces against modern conditions of production, against the property relations that are the conditions for the existence of the bourgeoisie and of its rule. It is enough to mention the commercial crises that by their periodical return put on its trial, each time more threateningly, the existence of the entire bourgeois society. In these crises a great part not only of the existing products, but also of the previously created productive forces, are periodically destroyed. In these crises there breaks out an epidemic that, in all earlier epochs, would have seemed an absurdity—the epidemic of over-production. Society suddenly finds itself put back into a state of momentary barbarism; it appears as if a famine, a universal war of devastation had cut off the supply of every means of subsistence; industry and commerce seem to be destroyed; and why? Because there is too much civilisation, too much means of subsistence, too much industry, too much commerce. The productive forces at the disposal of society no longer tend to further the development of the conditions of bourgeois property; on the contrary, they have become too powerful for these conditions, by which they are fettered, and so soon as they overcome these fetters, they bring disorder into the whole of bourgeois society, endanger the existence of bourgeois property. The conditions of bourgeois society are too narrow to comprise the wealth created by them. And how does the bourgeoisie get over these crises? On the one hand inforced destruction of a mass of productive forces; on the other, by the conquest of new markets, and by the more thorough exploitation of the old ones. That is to say, by paving the way for more extensive and more destructive crises, and by diminishing the means whereby crises are prevented.

The weapons with which the bourgeoisie felled feudalism to the ground are now turned against the bourgeoisie itself.

But not only has the bourgeoisie forged the weapons that bring death to itself; it has also called into existence the men who are to wield those weapons—the modern working class—the proletarians.

In proportion as the bourgeoisie, i.e., capital, is developed, in the same proportion is the proletariat, the modern working class, developed—a class of labourers, who live only so long as they find work, and who find work only so long as their labour increases capital. These labourers, who must sell themselves piece-meal, are a commodity, like every other article of commerce, and are consequently exposed to all the vicissitudes of competition, to all the fluctuations of the market.

Owing to the extensive use of machinery and to division of labour, the work of the proletarians has lost all individual character, and consequently, all charm for the workman. He becomes an appendage of the machine, and it is only the most simple, most monotonous, and most easily acquired knack, that is required of him. Hence, the cost of production of a workman is restricted, almost entirely, to the means of subsistence that he requires for his maintenance, and for the propagation of his race. But the price of a commodity, and therefore also of labour, is equal to its cost of production. In proportion therefore, as the repulsiveness of the work increases, the wage decreases. Nay more, in proportion as the use of machinery and division of labour increases, in the same proportion the burden of toil also increases, whether by prolongation of the working hours, by increase of the work exacted in a given time or by increased speed of the machinery, etc.

Modern industry has converted the little workshop of the patriarchal master into the great factory of the industrial capitalist. Masses of labourers, crowded into the factory, are organised like soldiers. As privates of the industrial army they are placed under the command of a perfect hierarchy of officers and sergeants. Not only are they slaves of the bourgeois class, and of the bourgeois State; they are daily and hourly enslaved by the machine, by the over-looker, and, above all, by the individual bourgeois manufacturer himself. The more openly this despotism proclaims gain to be its end and aim, the more petty, the more hateful and the more embittering it is.

The less the skill and exertion of strength implied in manual labour, in other words, the more modern industry becomes developed, the more is the labour of men superseded by that of women. Differences of age and sex have no longer any distinctive social validity for the working class. All are instruments of labour, more or less expensive to use, according to their age and sex.

No sooner is the exploitation of the labourer by the manufacturer, so far at an end, that he receives his wages in cash, than he is set upon by the other portions of the bourgeoisie, the landlord, the shopkeeper, the pawnbroker, etc.

The lower strata of the middle class—the small tradespeople, shopkeepers, retired tradesmen generally, the handicraftsmen and peasants—all these sink gradually into the proletariat, partly because their diminutive capital does not suffice for the scale on which Modern Industry is carried on, and is swamped in the competition with the large capitalists, partly because their specialized skill is rendered worthless by the new methods of production. Thus the proletariat is recruited from all classes of the population.

The proletariat goes through various stages of development. With its birth begins its struggle with the bourgeoisie. At first the contest is carried on by individual labourers, then by the workpeople of a factory, then by the operatives of one trade, in one locality, against the individual bourgeois who directly exploits them. They direct their attacks not against the bourgeois conditions of production, but against the instruments of production themselves; they destroy imported wares that compete with their labour, they smash to pieces machinery, they set factories ablaze, they seek to restore by force the vanished status of the workman of the Middle Ages.

At this stage the labourers still form an incoherent mass scattered over the whole country, and broken up by their mutual competition. If anywhere they unite to form more compact bodies, this is not yet the consequence of their own active union, but of the union of the bourgeoisie, which class, in order to attain its own political ends, is compelled to set the whole proletariat in motion, and is moreover yet, for a time, able to do so. At this stage, therefore, the proletarians do not fight their enemies, but the enemies of their enemies, the remnants of absolute monarchy, the landowners, the non-industrial bourgeois, the petty bourgeoisie. Thus the whole historical movement is concentrated in the hands of the bourgeoisie; every victory so obtained is a victory for the bourgeoisie.

But with the development of industry the proletariat not only increases in number; it becomes concentrated in greater masses, its strength grows, and it feels that strength more. The various interests and conditions of life within the ranks of the proletariat are more and more equalised, in proportion as machinery obliterates all distinctions of labour, and nearly everywhere reduces wages to the same low level. The growing competition among the bourgeois, and the resulting commercial crises, make the wages of the workers ever more fluctuating. The unceasing improvement of machinery, ever more rapidly developing, makes their livelihood more and more precarious; the collisions between individual workmen and individual bourgeois take more and more the character of collisions between two classes. Thereupon the workers begin to form combinations (Trades Unions) against the bourgeois; they club together in order to keep up the rate of wages; they found permanent associations in order to make provision beforehand for these occasional revolts. Here and there the contest breaks out into riots.

Now and then the workers are victorious, but only for a time. The real fruit of their battles lies, not in the immediate result, but in the ever-expanding union of the workers. This union is helped on by the improved means of communication that are created by modern industry and that place the workers of different localities in contact with one another. It was just this contact that was needed to centralise the numerous local struggles, all of the same character, into one national struggle between classes. But every class struggle is a political struggle. And that union, to attain which the burghers of the Middle Ages, with their miserable highways, required centuries, the modern proletarians, thanks to railways, achieve in a few years.

This organisation of the proletarians into a class, and consequently into a political party, is continually being upset again by the competition between the workers themselves. But it ever rises up again, stronger, firmer, mightier. It compels legislative recognition of particular interests of the workers, by taking advantage of the divisions among the bourgeoisie itself. Thus the ten-hours' bill in England was carried.

Altogether collisions between the classes of the old society further, in many ways, the course of development of the proletariat. The bourgeoisie finds itself involved in a constant battle. At first with the aristocracy; later on, with those portions of the bourgeoisie itself, whose interests have become antagonistic to the progress of industry; at all times, with the bourgeoisie of foreign countries. In all these battles it sees itself compelled to appeal to the proletariat, to ask for its help, and thus, to drag it into the political arena. The bourgeoisie itself, therefore, supplies the proletariat with its own instruments of political and general education, in other words, it furnishes the proletariat with weapons for fighting the bourgeoisie.

Further, as we have already seen, entire sections of the ruling classes are, by the advance of industry, precipitated into the proletariat, or are at least threatened in their conditions of existence. These also supply the proletariat with fresh elements of enlightenment and progress.

Finally, in times when the class struggle nears the decisive hour, the process of dissolution going on within the ruling class, in fact within the whole range of society, assumes such a violent, glaring character, that a small section of the ruling class cuts itself adrift, and joins the revolutionary class, the class that holds the future in its hands. Just as, therefore, at an earlier period, a section of the nobility went over to the bourgeoisie, so now a portion of the bourgeoisie goes over to the proletariat, and in particular, a portion of the bourgeois ideologists, who have raised themselves to the level of comprehending theoretically the historical movement as a whole.

Of all the classes that stand face to face with the bourgeoisie today, the proletariat alone is a really revolutionary class. The other classes decay and finally disappear in the face of Modern Industry; the proletariat is its special and essential product. The lower middle class, the small manufacturer, the shopkeeper, the artisan, the peasant, all these fight against the bourgeoisie, to save from extinction their existence as fractions of the middle class. They are therefore not revolutionary, but conservative. Nay more, they are reactionary, for they try to roll back the wheel of history. If by chance they are revolutionary, they are so only in view of their impending transfer into the proletariat, they thus defend not their present, but their future interests, they desert their own standpoint to place themselves at that of the proletariat.

The "dangerous class," the social scum, that passively rotting mass thrown off by the lowest layers of old society, may, here and there, be swept into the movement by a proletarian revolution; its conditions of life, however, prepare it far more for the part of a bribed tool of reactionary intrigue.

In the conditions of the proletariat, those of old society at large are already virtually swamped. The proletarian is without property; his relation to his wife and children has no longer anything in common with the bourgeois family-relations; modern industrial labour, modern subjection to capital, the same in England as in France, in America as in Germany, has stripped him of every trace of national character. Law, morality, religion, are to him so many bourgeois prejudices, behind which lurk in ambush just as many bourgeois interests.

All the preceding classes that got the upper hand, sought to fortify their already acquired status by subjecting society at large to their conditions of appropriation. The proletarians cannot become masters of the productive forces of society, except by abolishing their own previous mode of appropriation, and thereby also every other previous mode of appropriation. They have nothing of their own to secure and to fortify; their mission is to destroy all previous securities for, and insurances of, individual property.

All previous historical movements were movements of minorities, or in the interests of minorities. The proletarian movement is the self-conscious, independent movement of the immense majority, in the interests of the immense majority. The proletariat, the lowest stratum of our present society, cannot stir, cannot raise itself up, without the whole superincumbent strata of official society being sprung into the air.

Though not in substance, yet in form, the struggle of the proletariat with the bourgeoisie is at first a national struggle. The proletariat of each country must, of course, first of all settle matters with its own bourgeoisie.

In depicting the most general phases of the development of the proletariat, we traced the more or less veiled civil war, raging within existing society, up to the point where that war breaks out into open revolution, and where the violent overthrow of the bourgeoisie lays the foundation for the sway of the proletariat.

Hitherto, every form of society has been based, as we have already seen, on the antagonism of oppressing and oppressed classes. But in order to oppress a class, certain conditions must be assured to it under which it can, at least, continue its slavish existence. The serf, in the period of serfdom, raised himself to membership in the commune, just as the petty bourgeois, under the yoke of feudal absolutism, managed to develop into a bourgeois. The modern laborer, on the contrary, instead of rising with the progress of industry, sinks deeper and deeper below the conditions of existence of his own class. He becomes a pauper, and pauperism develops more rapidly than population and wealth. And here it becomes evident, that the bourgeoisie is unfit any longer to be the ruling class in society, and to impose its conditions of existence upon society as an over-riding law. It is unfit to rule because it is incompetent to assure an existence to its slave within his slavery, because it cannot help letting him sink into such a state, that it has to feed him, instead of being fed by him. Society can no longer live under this bourgeoisie, in other words, its existence is no longer compatible with society.

The essential condition for the existence, and for the sway of the bourgeois class, is the formation and augmentation of capital; the condition for capital is wage-labour. Wage-labour rests exclusively on competition between the laborers. The advance of industry, whose involuntary promoter is the bourgeoisie, replaces the isolation of the labourers, due to competition, by their revolutionary combination, due to association. The development of Modern Industry, therefore, cuts from under its feet the very foundation on which the bourgeoisie produces and appropriates products. What the bourgeoisie, therefore, produces, above all, is its own grave-diggers. Its fall and the victory of the proletariat are equally inevitable.

[aion-rsa]

The Real Martial Arts Behind Cobra Kai and The Karate Kid

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When The Karate Kid premiered in 1984, new students rushed to enroll in Karate Dojos across the nation. However, for anyone aspiring to learn the true ways of Miyagi-Do—or Cobra Kai as the case may be—Dojos weren’t propounding deck sanding and fence painting as part of their curriculum. There are many different styles of Karate. Fans wondered which style Daniel and Johnny were really doing. Now that Netflix has picked up Cobra Kai from YouTube Red, a whole new crop of fans has discovered the show and the question has come up again: What type of Karate do they practice at Miyagi-Do and Cobra Kai? The truth is it might not even be Karate.

In any movie or series, the filmmakers and showrunners aren’t beholden to a specific style. They are telling a story, not making a documentary. With most productions, a hodge-podge of movie-fu makes for better action than authentic martial arts. When The Karate Kid began production, Ralph Macchio (Daniel), William Zabka (Johnny), and Pat Morita (Mr. Miyagi) didn’t know any martial arts. Zabka had some background in wrestling but that was it. Like David Carradine in ‘70s TV show Kung Fu, they earned their roles with their acting skills, not their martial arts proficiency. In many ways, it’s Daniel’s inexperience and awkwardness with Karate that helps to sell the story. 

Only three of the original actors had studied martial arts prior to filming. Ron Thomas practiced Jujitsu, which had little application for his role as Cobra Kai’s Bobby in the film. Martin Kove (Kreese) studied Karate under the famous Grandmaster Takayuki Kubota.  Kubota was a noted celebrity trainer who cultivated many famous students including James Caan, Robert Conrad, Ron Ely, George Kennedy, Sam Peckinpah, Hilary Swank (who starred as The Next Karate Kid) to name a few.

He created his own style of Karate called Gosuku-Ryu. Gosuku means “hard fast.” Ryu literally means “flow” but is a suffix commonly used in Karate to denote a specific system or style. What’s more, Kubota patented a self-defense weapon, a rod-shaped keychain fob the size of a sharpie. He named it the Kubotan after himself, and it is still widely used by Police and Enforcement today. However, beyond training Kove, Kubota had little influence on The Karate Kid. In action films, actors play roles that require them to portray themselves as masters of different styles than they practice in real life. 

Cobra Kai – Strike Hard, Strike Fast, No Mercy

The martial arts depicted in The Karate Kid must be attributed to Grandmaster Pat E. Johnson. He was the martial arts choreographer for the original films and played the Referee. Johnson is a student of Chuck Norris and captained Norris’ Black Belt Competition team to win 33-consecutive national and international championships. And despite not disqualifying Daniel’s illegal winning crane kick, Johnson is a highly respected martial arts referee. Beyond The Karate Kid, he worked on other films including Enter the Dragon, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Mortal Kombat. Johnson and Norris practice Tang Soo Do, a Korean martial art, but this is where translation of the terminology gets complicated. 

Tang Soo Do means “Way of the Tang Hand.” Do means “the Way,” same character as the Dao in Chinese. It’s the same word in Korean and Japanese and serves as a suffix for many martial arts like Karate-Do, Judo, and Taekwondo. Soo literally means “hand.” Tang refers to the Tang Dynasty (618-907) indicating the Chinese origins of the art. According to legend, all Asian martial arts trace back to China’s Shaolin Temple, the legendary cradle of Kung Fu. For simplicity, many English translators shortened “Way of the Tang Hand” to “Way of the Chinese Hand.” It’s a respectful nod to that origin tale. 

Korean and Japanese characters are derived from Chinese too. Translate the characters for Tang Soo Do into Japanese and it is Karate-Do. However in 1935, Japan changed the character for Kara (or Tang) to a homophonic character that means “empty” in order to distinguish its martial art from China. To complicate matters even more, Tang Soo Do was commonly dubbed “Korean Karate” in the United States. Nevertheless, Tang Soo Do and Karate are distinct disciplines. 

Cobra Kai is the name of the school, not the style. The Kai in Cobra Kai literally means “assembly” or “meeting” and within the Karate vernacular, it’s a suffix that denotes an organization or group. Cobra is just a name, the school mascot. While there are many snake styles of martial arts, particularly in Kung Fu, the Cobra is seldom commonly specified in Asian systems. More often, it is seen in American school logos, like the symbol of William’s Kenpo Karate Dojo in Enter the Dragon. There’s a nod to Kung Fu legend in the name. The rival of Snake Kung Fu is Crane style. In the Jackie Chan and Jaden Smith redux of The Karate Kid, the snake comes into play. 

Given Johnson’s choreography Tang Soo Do influences Cobra Kai more than Karate. Throughout the series, there are subtle clues alluding to this. From the first film to Cobra Kai, when Johnny spars, he deploys a lot of high kicks characteristic of Korean martial arts. After the first film, Zabka continued to study Tang Soo Do with Johnson for many years so it is his foundation style. Another big tell is in The Karate Kid Part III. When Kreese’s comrade Terry Silver (Thomas Ian Griffith) visits Miyagi’s Dojo to lie about Kreese’s death, he couches it in an apology from their mutual South Korean master. In real life, Griffith is a black belt in Kenpo Karate and Taekwondo. Cobra Kai perpetuated the Tang Soo Do influence very subtly in Season 1. In episode 7, Johnny barks out a command that sounds like “jun be” which means “get ready” in Korean. 

There’s some historical validity to Kreese teaching “Korean Karate.” Much of Tang Soo Do came to the U.S. via military veterans that served in Korea. Both Johnson and Norris first learned their martial art while stationed there. This makes a lot of sense for Kreese’s character. The photo of Kreese in military uniform that hung in Cobra Kai declares him as the U.S. Army 1970-72 Karate Champion and Silver is his old Army buddy. 

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Miyagi-Do – Karate Here. Karate Not Here.

But what about Miyagi-Do? What style teaches “wax on wax off?” Since Pat Morita wasn’t a martial artist, his body double was a distinguished Karate master named Fumio Demura. Demura espouses Shito-Ryu Karate, but that’s not evident in the movies. It is implied that Miyagi teaches a style of Karate called Goju-Ryu. Goju means “hard soft” (the Go is the same character as in Gosuku-Ryu and the Ju is the same as in Judo – “the Soft Way”). Although never overtly stated, there are many subtle references throughout the films and series.

In The Karate Kid Part II, Miyagi and Daniel visit Miyagi’s hometown in Okinawa. In the family dojo, Miyagi tells Daniel of the founder of Miyagi-Do, an ancestor of Mr. Miyagi who ended up in China by accident after getting drunk and falling asleep in his fishing boat in 1625. He returned to Okinawa 10 years later with a Chinese wife, two kids, and the basis for Miyagi-Do. This artistic liberty is a mishmash of Goju-Ryu history. Grandmaster Higaonna Kanryo (1853–1916) was an Okinawan martial artist and translator who spent many years studying martial arts in China, including Crane style. His top student, another native Okinawan, followed in his footsteps to train in China too. That student was another Miyagi – Grandmaster Chojun Miyagi (1888-1953), the founder of Goju-Ryu.

Two more Goju-Ryu Easter eggs imply that it is the inspiration for Miyagi-Do. In The Karate Kid Part II, a Goju-Ryu patch can be clearly seen on Chozen’s (Yuji Okumoto) gi. The Goju-Ryu symbol is a golden upraised fist, often with the characters for Karate written underneath and it is unmistakable. Chozen was trained by his uncle Sato (Danny Kamekona), a fellow student under Miyagi’s father (Charlie Tanimoto) so they all practice the same style. 

Another major tell lies in the Kata that Miyagi teaches Daniel in The Karate Kid Part III. It is based on Seiunchin, an original Goju-Ryu Kata created by Higaonna Kanryo and passed down to Chojun Miyagi. This is the same Kata that Daniel recites in Cobra Kai and teaches to his students, including his daughter Samantha (Mary Mouser) and Johnny’s son Robby (Tanner Buchanan). Real Goju-Ryu practitioners often comment that it is a weak rendition of Seiunchin, but again, it’s just a show, not a documentary.

The original writer of The Karate Kid, Robert Mark Kamen, claims that the idea of the story was loosely autobiographical. He says he was beaten up by bullies after the 1964 World’s Fair in New York. That experience led him to start martial arts. His first instructor was too violent and vengeful, so he began studying Goju-Ryu. Kamen says Miyagi was based on Grandmaster Meitoku Yagi (1912-2003), a direct disciple of Miyagi and a National Living Treasure of Japan.

The Crane Kick

Daniel’s All-Valley victory move isn’t from Goju-Ryu. It was made up for the film. However, the same one-legged posture exists within Northern Shaolin Kung Fu. The pose was featured on the cover of a Kung Fu book originally published in 1984, the same year that The Karate Kid premiered. Northern Sil Lum: Moi Fah No. 7 by Kwon W. Lam and Ted Mancuso is now out-of-print (Sil Lum is the Cantonese pronunciation of Shaolin). In the book, it’s not called a Crane technique. The actual name is “Lift stance, Black Crow splits wings.” 

When this book was published, there was a lot of debate about which came first within the martial arts community. The Karate Kid released in theaters on June 22, 1984. Since the book came out earlier that year, and given movie production and post-production time, the Crane kick scenes were probably filmed before the book was published. Most likely, it was an auspicious coincidence. 

The creation of the Crane Kick is colloquially attributed to Darry Vidal, although he has said that it was Kamen who initially described the move. Vidal was the stunt double for Miyagi in the beach Crane Kick scene and played the last semi-finalist to face Johnny before Daniel. He was an up-and-coming martial artist when the movie was shot and still teaches Karate at his school in California. 

What Style is Season 3?

Despite these authentic underpinnings, the hard truth is that the martial arts have never been that good throughout the Karate Kid franchise. The unusual training methods are absurd and there’s no way an 18-and-under tournament like the All Valley Karate Championships would be held without safety gear. It’s movie fiction. While the fight scenes were dramatic, the technical skills displayed have been mediocre for such an iconic martial arts franchise. 

This all changed with the Cobra Kai season 2 finale. The final fight was applauded by fans of the genre as an outstanding piece of fight choreography, worthy of the brand. It included an outstanding long take—the hallmark of good fight scenes—that was technically sophisticated, complex in its composition and cinematography. From a martial standpoint, this was the crowning achievement for the entire franchise. The stunt coordinators for Cobra Kai are Jahnel Curfman, a former gymnast and dancer turned stuntwoman, and Hiro Koda, a decorated Karate champion and longtime stuntman. Both are signed on for Season 3. 

Many martial artists began their martial journey because they were inspired by The Karate Kid. For them, that movie was life changing. These devotees are eager to see if Curfman and Koda can sustain that high level of fight choreography for Cobra Kai Season 3. And if the writers can continue to follow through on the authenticity of the martial arts backstories, that will be even better. 

As Mr. Miyagi would say, “Banzai!”

Season 1 and 2 of Cobra Kai are now available on Netflix. Cobra Kai Season 3 premieres on Netflix in 2021.

The post The Real Martial Arts Behind Cobra Kai and The Karate Kid appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[banjodanger]

X-Men: Days Of Future Past(2014);or, How To Squander Potential Without Really Trying

Yes, I should absolutely have posted this by now. However, what I actually did was doomscroll twitter and refresh three news websites constantly for a week and a half and give myself anxiety attacks.

We live in a country where seventy million people thought Trump was anything more than dogshit in semi-human form. Three turds in a poorly-tailored suit. Ugh. Can we please get just have a candidate that supports UBI and M4A? Like, basic human rights?

Anyway.

Let’s get something out of the way. The Rogue Cut is the best version of this movie. Hell, it’s the best of the core X-Men movies. They made a mistake not releasing this in theatres, because I can easily say this movie has everything that make the X-Men team great. It’s dramatic, there are fights, the movie is horny...it is everything you would want out of this movie. It builds off of what made First Class great and continues that story, while still bringing in the characters that made the first three two movies enjoyable.

Even things that didn’t work in previous movies comes back here and get a chance to succeed. Ellen Page was used as a dramatic tool in the(ugh) third one and her version of Kitty Pryde really suffered as a result. I won’t act like she’s given much more to do in this film, but she’s a bit more clearly defined. Her conversation with Logan involves more characterization than the entirety of the third movie. And by bringing in Rogue as Kitty’s salvation at Bobby’s expense, you get a dramatic tension that Ratner either isn’t capable or has never bothered to try.

I think what really makes this movie, and The Rogue Cut specifically, distinct is the amount of world-building it does. The expanded cut gives time to suggest Quicksilver’s mother is a alcoholic, which goes to explain his own risk-taking behavior. It suggests a world that exists beyond his moments in the movie, and that’s something this series has been extremely lacking in. A flaw in this series, and indeed in the entire superhero genre, is a fear of showing these characters as anything other than ON. It’s ok to allow these characters to breathe. Do we need to see his mother’s frustration and coping mechanism? No. But it brings us further into this world

Specifically, take a look at when Beast asks Logan if he makes it in the future. In the theatrical moment it’s a brief aside during the final battle. It’s not a bad choice, Hoult has played Beast as someone who is conflicted and not extremely self-assured; it makes sense that his character would look for encouragement before running off. However, in the Rogue Cut it’s placed before any excitement. We still get the character beat but here it is allowed to breathe, given it’s own room and it’s own focus. It’s seperate and distinct and much better as a result.

All of which makes everything that comes after this movie all the more frustrating. This movie goes out of its way to put the franchise in a new spot, and then it does nothing with it. Hugh Jackman and Ryan Reynolds give us some great solo movies but Hugh Jackman has continuously been the highlight of this franchise, and Ryan Reynolds has basically been auditioning for Deadpool his whole career. There’s a reason he’s the only actor making the transition to Marvel from this series.

While I do still consider this the high point of the franchise, I do wonder if, in hindsight, the movie deserves a little reconsideration. Obviously hard work was put into making this movie, but where does the hard work go? Assume for a second Disney hadn’t consumed Fox into its gaping maw, as to go all intellectual property on its own sullen death march. Apocalypse had certain moments of fun but still brought nothing new to the series, and everything after Deadpool 2 was bogged down in reshoots and delayed releases(Dark Phoenix was originally scheduled for 2018, hardly the delay New Mutants got but by no means did it help.)

Which leads us into problematic stuff. You can’t make an X-Men movie at Fox without some problematic stuff, there’s an ancient incantation in the first movie or something. I mentioned this in the last post, but let’s go through it again. Days of Future Past is a Kitty Pryde story, not a Wolverine story. I get not introducing Rachel Summers and in fact I’m glad they didn’t. And before you get mad, Rachel Summers is a great character. But this movie introduces a half-dozen characters for their “film debuts,” and apart from Quicksilver it wastes every single one of them. Fox does this throughout the entire series too, and I’d rather they not introduce a character than use them for a cameo. This series introduced Jubilee three separate times to literally forget about it in the next scene, so yea, we should be happy they left this character for the inevitable Marvel reboot.

But they had already introduced Kitty. She’s supposed to be the main character in this story. Days of Future Past, in the comics, was Kitty Pryde’s first major story. She was coming in as the brand new character right after the Dark Phoenix Saga which(in case you somehow didn’t know) saw Jean Grey’s death and Cyclops leave the X-Men. It’s not a huge arc but it gave a brand new character a memorable introduction. And in the movie, she’s pushed to a supporting role. This isn’t to say Jackman isn’t great in his role, but that’s something that has been proven time and again. If the movie as a whole was about acknowledging the mistakes, then it stands out that they’re unable to cede the spotlight to another character. People have devoted time and energy to documenting all the ways female superheroes have gotten neglected and pushed to the side, and a lot of those thinkpieces are done by better writers than I. So I’ll just say that Kitty Pryde is absolutely a character that deserves better than this treatment. 

This movie does play fast and loose with history and I’d be remiss if I didn’t make notice here. The Paris Accords were signed in January of 1973, so Peter’s Dark Side of the Moon shirt and Hello Hooray are anachronistic by about a month’s time. Though RFK stadium was there, Washington did not currently have a baseball team in 1973. So, it’s nice that guy is maintaining the baseball diamond but he’s probably doing it for free, and Erik’s probably better off not accepting his help. It deserves mention, however, that this movie doesn’t gloss over the fact that the US decisively lost the Vietnam war. It’s not a huge leap but considering Hollywood in the eighties made “winning the Vietnam War” its own subgenre the change is respectable. The advent of examining DNA is also anachronistic by about forty years. As the last two core films in this series are both set up as period pieces I believe it becomes more necessary to call out these mistakes.

Throughout all of this I feel like this is an essential movie in the franchise. I also don’t think it would have the same impact without watching the six previous movies in the franchise. Not to say people wouldn’t enjoy it, but there’s some jokes and plot beats that I don’t think would hit the same. It’s nothing compared to where the MCU is now(in half the time no less), but I think Marvel as a studio had the benefit of seeing other studios screw up. Fox, in 2000, had no blueprint. I think a move like DOFP was always going to become inevitable, but that it would turn out so well was not. In the end, this movie proves that a launching pad does nothing if you cannot grab that next rung.

Up Next: Ryan Reynolds ensures this franchise will have a second legacy, and finishes out the longest streak of solid movies in this whole franchise.

[farmerlan]

hey I have a question about chinese titles in cql/mdzs, if you don't mind! if a female sect leader took a husband, what would he be styled as? or a male sect leader I suppose. I mean probably the historical answer is that he would become the sect leader and her authority would be reduced, but i'll take my fantasy with a side of feminism please!

Hiiiii! First of all - super interesting point - if a female sect leader married, will her husband become the de facto sect leader?

This part is of course dependent on the author since wuxia/xianxia as a genre borrows heavily from actual Chinese history, but oftentimes plays fast and loose with specific succession conventions. I would actually argue that it’s not a given that the husband will become the official sect leader, because I feel like patrilineality and primogeniture is more so for men within the bloodlines of the family, and not men who are family by marriage (in fact, strictly speaking the woman would technically marry into the man’s household instead of vice versa). It would going against the norm to have a female sect leader, so if we’re already breaking succession conventions at that point I don’t think it’s farfetched to say that she remains the sect leader while married. There’s definitely situations where the patriarch of the family essentially considers his son-in-law his official son and passes down leadership since he has no male heirs of his own, but I think it’s a different story if the woman has already been established as the leader at this point.

With that said, as far as I know, there’s no specific title to use for the husband of a sect leader, just like how there is no specific title to use for the wife of a sect leader (often referred to as ‘夫人’, which is a generic respectful term for an older married woman).

So, as with all Chinese honorifics, what you use will largely be dependent on the relationship you have with them! Here are some of the common salutations you could use:

宗主 (sect leader) - AFAIK this is a gender-neutral term, and is an actual title, so whomever is the official sect leader can still be referred to with said title, whether male or female.

大人 (da ren) - depending on the social context this can mean a lot of things, you can refer to them here, but in general it is a respectful salutation that can be used by others. Typically used in conjunction with the last name (e.g. 蓝大人).

君子 (jun zi) – essentially used to refer to a gentleman. Can also be used by the wife to refer to husband, although I personally prefer 夫君 for that.

前辈 (qian bei) - you can refer to my guide on honorifics, but basically if it’s someone junior then they would likely call him qianbei. 先生 (xian sheng) can also be used, but it has a scholarly/teacher implication in the past and is less generic than 前辈.

大侠 (da xia) – lastly, this is a fun one that is more specific to the wuxia genre, very commonly seen in Jin Yong’s novels and it has more of a ‘martial arts hero’ connotation with it. You would usually use this for someone you’re not personally familiar with, but who has a righteous reputation as a pugilist. I haven’t really seen it outside of wuxia, although I don’t think it would necessarily be out of place to refer to another cultivator in xianxia. I actually did a quick baidu search and it seems like 诛仙 (the xianxia novel series that inspired The Legend of Chusen/青云志) uses this quite commonly, although I’ve never read it so take that with a grain of salt haha.

[heatherofthenight]

Reaction to Smurf

Reaction to Smurf

 As usual I avoided the internet today so I could stew over this season finale without external input. If you’ve come for the (shallow) dish on our poor babies, Deran and Adrian, you’ve come to the right place.

I had the bar set pretty low for the season finale because we’ve had an embarrassment of riches in terms of Adrian propelling storyline this season. Oh, and hot guys getting nekkid (hubba, hubba) and doing normal domestic things together (boop!).  So, when viewed through my low-bar lens—I only asked that they not kill Adrian off—the finale was about what I expected.

Shall we begin? *hands Kleenex to shippers*

Deran & Craig & Passports

I was conflicted during this scene; Craig has steadfastly been in Deran’s corner, presumably since they were kids, so it seemed natural to me that Craig was expressing his wishes for his bro to remain in Oceanside but at the same time I was hoping for big bro to step up and be supportive of Deran’s decision to leave.  Deran’s response—that Craig and Renn are amazing together and Craig was going to rock the parenting gig—we’re possibly the nicest things Deran has said to his brother, at least within our earshot.  It seemed in that moment it was full steam ahead.

Deran & Billy & The Drop

The first sign of trouble for me was when Deran told Billy he was leaving.  I thought Blabbermouth Billy would tell someone who would tell Pope or J and bam!  One of them would resolve the ‘Adrian problem.’  *raise your hand if you’ve read Mary Shelley’s The Modern Prometheus*; I had literal conniptions while reading this because I thought Victor Frankenstein was leaving his new bride, Elizabeth, unprotected and damned if the Creature didn’t find a way into her room and strangle her…like I predicted. That was where I thought show was going and I wanted to bitch-slap Deran at that point for putting his precious in danger.

Deran & Pope & Home, Sweet, Home

This was the sweetest scene—Pope practically giving Deran permission to leave (you’ve wanted to get away from us since you were a kid) and this on the heels of Deran disclosing to Pope why he needed Adrian to leave (no one thinks Adrian can do prison time unscathed).  Pope should’ve gotten away from Smurf’s influence a long time ago because in the few short day/s since she died, he’s seemingly pulled himself together like he could only manage for Lena’s sake.  I still (naively) didn’t see a barrier to Deran’s departure.

Deran & Adrian & The Listing Ship

This. Was.  Brutal.  I understand why Deran had first, and second, and third thoughts about leaving but he had given no indication that we, nor apparently Adrian, saw that he might change his mind.  With single mindedness Deran has been all about securing his relationship with his boo this whole season.  Yes, Smurf is gone and Pope and Craig say they need him, but what changed for Deran?  We wouldn’t know because the writers didn’t address it, at least not to my satisfaction.  I’m huge on motive—I don’t always agree with the decisions characters are making but if I can follow why they’re doing things, I can usually fall in line.  What happened here?  

I’m sure this break-up is supposed to set up Deran’s drama for next season (watching Deran act like a bear with a thorn is his paw because he’s butt-hurt is a blast…not) but I make no bones about being a staunch Deran x Adrian shipper and I thought this was ‘go big, or go home’ time and instead it was meh.  Deran caved to peer (brother) pressure?  Adrian’s first time admitting he loves Deran is seconds before informing Deran he’s the worst thing that ever happened to him?  Where was the sex?  The hug? Kiss?  Forehead touch?!  I would’ve even watched a punch exchanged at this point because passion has defined this relationship. Yes, there was friendship, and history, but Deran’s feelings were so intense that at one point he asked his unstable brother to rough up Adrian’s then romantic interest and this season Deran not only lied to multiple people to protect Adrian but he contemplated taking a baseball bat to a cop and actually killed someone he saw as a threat to his beloved.  Adrian going to the car, head down, while Deran imploded on the pier…*snooze*.  I think they will always love each other, and we’ll see them together again in the future, but I haven’t figured out how.

Conclusion

Deran’s change of heart was, quite frankly, disheartening.  If he left I knew he wouldn’t stay gone but I think I would’ve preferred them riding off into the sunset together and then Deran returning when his brothers had difficulties.  No one asked me though which might not be a bad thing because 1) I never get predictions right and 2) show would consist of never ending scenes with actual comfort for the hurt show doles out to its characters.

I admittedly view the series through Adrian’s POV because he’s been the nicest person on the playing board although still no angel; he’s appalled at using children for blackmail leverage, his crimes are pretty low-key when you stack up what we know of his history against The Cody Clan, and he rightly held Deran accountable when he dabbled in creepy behavior—that’s about as close as I can come to syncing with a character on this show.  Now his heart is broken and he’s being exiled, by himself, to a foreign county (I miss his flexing biceps, triceps and all-ceps already).  Deran’s heart is broken and he is having the shittiest week he’s probably ever had since blowing it with Adrian by being a controlling, creepy stalker.  I guess this ‘good-bye for now’ checks the boxes for drama which is show’s mission but I never got my requested make-up sex, cuddles or tears (okay, I got those and now Deran needs your Kleenex...and a hug). 

They’ve left the door open for Adrian to come back (thank you for not killing him!) but how?  He’s now fled the country (or so we’ve been led to believe) and the statute of limitations on his drug trafficking charges won’t run out for at least five years as far as I can tell—unless show fast forwards into future at conclusion of series I don’t see us, or Deran x Adrian, getting the HEA they deserve.  I hope I’m wrong and we see our freckled fuck next season but at the moment I haven’t figured out how it can happen without hand-waving.

Non-Ship Business

I thought Pam would play a part in Smurf’s after life but I didn’t see her being the recipient of Smurf’s riches; if you’re going to kill your main character off, this is a pretty cool idea.  Then there’s J and Pope—the new (business) power couple?  Angela and Frankie—free to fuck things up?  Blabbermouth Billy on the loose?  Jake dispensing fatherly advice to Craig?  And let’s not forget Smurfette’s lack of nurturing skills with her bambinos. I think next season has potential but please leave a message at the beep because I’m currently mourning the at least temporary break-up of Deran x Adrian.  Prove me wrong, show, please!  In the mean time, please pass the Kleenex back.

[elizapbrooke]

A discovery of pancakes

This is my newsletter from Friday, May 22. You can sign up here.

I am disappointed to announce that the bird call I thought belonged to an owl comes, in fact, from a mourning dove. “One of the most abundant and widespread of all North American birds,” Wikipedia says. It’s an embarrassing but maybe understandable mistake. I figured this owl was out during the day because it was a creature of New York like the rest of us, its circadian rhythm all fucked up by early morning garbage trucks and the blue glow of the Chase Bank across the street. The mourning dove’s coo is low and melancholy, a distinctive series of five notes. I’d certainly forgive you for thinking it’s a hoot. As I was listening to mourning dove calls on my computer and having this horrible realization, one landed on the fire escape and startled me with the loudest, most intimate rendition of their song I’d ever heard. It may as well have pressed its beak up against the glass. (I assume it thought there was a dove in the apartment.) I crept over to the window to confirm with my eyeballs what AllAboutBirds.org had already told me, and, yep, there it was. It felt so special to have a mystery owl in the neighborhood, but I guess doves are lovely birds too, with their plushy throats and elegantly tapered tail feathers. Anyway, my friend Sid tells me he’s heard owls in Gowanus, so I’m keeping my hopes up. This week I published a story for Curbed detailing the history and recent evolution of the home office. As I was fact checking it, I realized I’d accidentally talked to ten hundred sources, so please do enjoy the fruits of my labor. I’m not here to talk about home offices, though. A few weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night and discovered I’d been brainstorming pitches in my sleep. I was thrilled. On account of pandemic depression and seeing very little of the outside world, I’ve really been struggling to come up with story concepts, which is problematic because that’s my job. Most of my dream pitches evaporated upon waking, but I managed to hold onto one, and in my sleepy haze I thought it was possibly the greatest idea I’d ever had. It was: PANCAKES ARE HAVING A MOMENT IN QUARANTINE. I decided I’d email the New York Times first thing in the morning. In the light of day, I realized that there wasn’t really a story there. When you’re writing a trend piece, you want to be able to point to, I don’t know, at least four really solid examples from the public sphere. My evidence was:

Alex and I had made pancakes recently

We were planning to make them again

I’d recently discussed pancakes with Molly and Vivian

I’d heard you can make pancakes from sourdough starter discard (which actually does speak to the zeitgeist)

But here’s the thing. Pancakes are a great topic for a newsletter. So here is my pancake article.

***

I’ve always liked the look of a big stack of pancakes, but I never really got why people were so into eating them. I like a breakfast that is hyper-functional and maximally filling. Because I’m an aging hippie, my preferred breakfast is a double-sized bowl of Ezekiel cereal, which tastes like delicious cardboard and fulfills 42% of your daily fiber needs. Pancakes, like pastries, always struck me as glamorous but pointless. I was even somewhat distrustful of my mom’s pancakes, which are dense and nutty, not sweet at all. Her recipe came from a “chiropractor/health nut in San Diego about 31 years ago” and involves grinding your own flour from winter wheat berries, groats, rye, brown rice, and millet. I love them, but a family pancake breakfast still makes me feel very out of control. This all changed a few weeks ago when Alex and I decided to make pancakes for dinner. All I can say is that quarantine has a way of melting away the rigid little fucks you used to give. For once, the chaos I associate with pancakes sounded fun and freeing. Also we’ve been watching a ton of Parks & Rec, and I was feeling inspired by Leslie’s diet of waffles and whipped cream. We made buttermilk pancakes, extra fluffy ones that require you to whip the egg whites on their own for several minutes before folding them into the batter. Two with banana chunks, two with bits of frozen peaches, two blueberry, one bonus plain for me. I had mine without anything on top, enjoying the choking feeling of eating so much cakey carb. It felt like a hug. When I saw my friend Todd post a gorgeous stack of pancakes on Instagram, I asked him if he had any theories about why they’re such a good quarantine food. At first he thought I was trolling him, but when I told him I was dead serious, here’s what he said: “What I love about pancakes right now is that they feel both ordinary and radical at the same time. Ordinary because they are nostalgic, all-American, homey, comfortable, and approachable. Anyone can make them. But there’s also something really subversive about a stack of pancakes right now—the gluten, the non-plant-based butter and eggs, eating breakfast when Goop tells us we should be intermittent fasting, so forth. Eating pancakes in the time of coronavirus brings into focus how overwhelming wellness culture has become in recent years—celery juice and collagen smoothies will never, ever, ever beat a big, buttery, syrupy stack of flapjacks.” I would agree. Given my dedication to breakfast foods that involve sprouted beans—which predates our wellness moment but was certainly bolstered by it—I definitely find pancakes subversive. They make me feel nostalgic, too, but not for anything I’ve personally experienced. For weekends in high school that I spent ensconced in the television world of Gilmore Girls, maybe, where breakfast at Luke’s Diner is a comfortable routine. As I continued my journey into pancake reportage, I sought out the perspective of Sarah Jampel, an editor at Bon Appetit. While pancakes made from sourdough discard have their fans, Sarah is not particularly one of them. She’s also team waffle. I don’t really have a horse in the pancake/waffle debate, but Sarah makes a compelling case. “I have thought a lot about pancakes,” she emailed back when I asked if she had anything to say about the topic. “And yes, I have made them since isolation started—mostly because I'm ‘every woman’ and my fridge is overflowing with sourdough discard. ‘Put it in pancakes,’ I thought. The issue is that I need to add more flour (as well as butter or oil and leaveners) to sourdough discard to turn it into pancakes, so I ultimately end up using more ingredients for the sole purpose of not throwing some stuff into the trash or compost (but really, the trash). And even though pancakes sound nice in theory—why not start the day with a hot breakfast instead of the usual routine, eating a Clif bar with one hand while the other clings bare to the subway pole (huge sigh of nostalgia)?—in actuality they're inferior waffles. Unless you take care with your pancakes—loading them with lots of butter and separating the egg yolks and whites (this recipe's my fave)—they're too mono-textured.” Never fear: Alex and I loaded ours with an alarming amount of butter. I suppose it is to be expected that when you go out hunting for pancake insights, you come back with waffle testimonials. When I asked Alex’s high school friends to weigh in on the appeal of pancakes during a global shutdown, Nico said, “Waffles are the superior carb. They provide greater textural variety and are a better delivery vessel for condiments.” (Dylan has been eating toast all quarantine, and Dan “didn’t understand the question” because the only god he acknowledges is the Joy of Cooking’s pancake recipe.) My friend Molly has been eating a lot of savory pancakes under quarantine, for breakfast or lunch. She sautées a bunch of garlic and kale in olive oil, adding scallions at the last minute, and then sets the vegetables aside in a bowl. In goes the Bisquick, and she adds the kale mix on top of the pancakes as they cook; after a minute, she tops the pancake with shredded white cheddar so that when she flips it, the cheese turns crispy. She’ll eat that with a runny egg or garlic yogurt. I can’t wait to see her again so she can make one for me. Pancakes are one of the few foods that Molly has consistently been able to stomach during this period of immense anxiety. They have a strong positive association for her: in pre-corona times, she would make savory pancakes after playing soccer on Saturday mornings. Those games are one of the things she misses most right now. We talked on the phone while she made her daily trip outside to juggle a soccer ball. Molly likes to chat with friends during these breaks because bouncing a ball on your feet benefits from loose attention. “Cooking a pancake is similar,” she said. “It requires some focus but it’s not that hard. You don’t really need to cut anything. You just watch it.” Alex always says that cooking is meditative for him. I would respectfully disagree—to me, it feels more like hurtling down a mogul course—but I can see it with pancakes. You’re just systematically waiting and flipping, waiting and flipping. After making buttermilk pancakes, we progressed to Sqirl’s buckwheat pancakes for lunch on a Sunday. I can’t find the recipe online, but here’s a photo. For those who are lucky enough to have dodged my Sqirl talk thus far, it’s a phenomenal, semi-healthy breakfast and lunch spot in Silver Lake. Every time I’m in LA, I badger my companions into going right when it opens at 8 a.m. so we’re sure to get a table. When I was there to write about Dax Shepard in November, I high-tailed it to Sqirl right after our interview and embarrassed myself in front of the staff by inhaling bits of a particularly seedy cookie and having a loud coughing fit, after which I went around the corner to die in private. Alex and I thought we had all the requisite ingredients for Sqirl’s buckwheat pancakes, other than cactus flour, but the recipe calls for corn flour and it turns out cornmeal isn’t the same thing. We subbed in whole wheat, so they weren’t really Sqirlcakes, but they were still tasty in a restrained, earthy way. Alex convinced me to try one with raspberry jam, which I reluctantly admit was a great pairing. A week or two later, we made them again. I wasn’t really hungry because it was 2 p.m. and I’d already eaten lunch—Alex had just gotten up—but I pledged to eat my portion cold out of the fridge. Alex thought this was insane, but he sometimes forgets that I like my food a little squidgy. We went grocery shopping the next morning, which was as much of a bitch as it always is right now. Even though we’ve gotten the process down to a science, it still takes three hours from start to finish, with significant angst on my part about the cleanliness of the inbound goods. Finally everything was put away, and Alex headed off to take a shower. I was agitated and crazy hungry. I scrubbed my hands one more time, pulled the pancakes out of the fridge, and promptly dropped one on the floor while trying to get it into my mouth. I ate the rest in big, angry bites, one after another, standing in the middle of the kitchen. I didn’t want to sit down in my outdoor clothes. The pancakes were perfect, though. A shot of sweet, comforting carb straight to the heart.

[dweemeister]

The Shop on Main Street (1965, Czechoslovakia)

Putting “New Wave” in a sentence referring to a film movement is asking for trouble. Whether the New Wave is French, Iranian, or Japanese in origin, the term implies a series of films and filmmakers breaking narrative and aesthetic norms in conventional moviemaking, exalting innovation. New Wave directors from those respective countries include Jean-Luc Godard and Agnès Varda; Forough Farrkohzad and Mohsen Makhmalbaf; Nagisa Oshima and Seijun Suzuki. For those I have just listed, I am not denying their talents, their importance to film history. But show any of their films to someone who is less familiar with these New Waves, without the contextual understanding of the environment their works were released, and befuddlement and distaste will likely abound. Rare is the New Wave film that can be shown to unfamiliar eyes and minds without appropriate context.

Ján Kadár and Elmar Klos’ The Shop on Main Street (adapted from Ladislav Grosman’s novel of the same name) is sometimes considered a part of the then-concurrent Czechoslovak New Wave. And if one considers it part of that New Wave, then it is one of the more comprehendible, technically grounded films of that movement. It certainly qualifies as one of those New Wave exceptions – a film that can be digested by a viewer not accustomed to older movies or has any experience with Czech- or Slovak-language cinema. I consider The Shop on Main Street a Czechoslovak New Wave film. When one looks beneath its World War II-era surface, its politics extend beyond its condemnation of Nazi Germany’s treatment of Jews and the local Slovak population. Though rooted in the nation’s past, it was as timely as Věra Chytilová’s Daisies (1966) upon release. The film outdoes many New Wave films by playing fast and loose with genre expectations: a black comedy in the first half, a tragedy in the second. Nazi Germany’s state-executed hatred, if not including the fringe groups inspired by their example, is no longer; Czechoslovakia has long been split in two. The Shop on Main Street and its censure of those who manipulate the oppressed, while pointing their fingers elsewhere.

In March 1939, the Slovak Republic was carved out of Czechoslovakia as a client state of Nazi Germany. The Slovak Republic never received recognition from the Allies (with the brief exception of the USSR until they were invaded by Germany), and they soon set about the process of Aryanization. Aryanization was a process in which Jewish property and businesses were to be put into “Aryan” ownership so as to “de-Jew” the economy. In The Shop on Main Street, Slovak carpenter Anton "Tóno" Brtko (Jozef Kroner) is offered by an official the ownership of a button store owned by the elderly, near-deaf Rozália Lautmannová (Ida Kamińska). Mrs. Lautmannová, a widow, is unaware that there is a war, that Czechoslovakia is being occupied by invaders intent on seizing her business and exterminating her fellow Jews. She welcomes Tóno as a helper and believes – mishears, really – that he is her nephew. Tóno, thrown into this awkward situation, soon learns that Mrs. Lautmannová’s store is not profitable and depends on community donations. The Jewish community implore Tóno to stay as de jure owner of the store, for fears that a more exploitative owner might be selected were he to give it up. Tóno agrees, accepting a small payment, and dedicating himself to the store’s and Mrs. Lautmannová’s welfare. They find time to see the humor in her mishearing and his stubbornness. In the final scenes, Tóno and Mrs. Lautmannová must make a horrific decision.

Czechoslovakia’s communist government, during the Czechoslovak New Wave, frowned upon films that could be construed as anarchic, insurrectionist, troublemaking. The Shop on Main Street – unlike many of its contemporaries – avoided government meddling. The villains here are the Nazis, whom communist forces across the Eastern bloc fought against. On its surface, The Shop on Main Street assigned no criticism towards Czechoslovakia’s communist regime or to communism. Yet the braggadocious Nazis are a minority in this film. A detestable sociopolitical minority becomes empowered when others sympathize with them, rationalize their prejudices and atrocities, and fail to defend the targets of that minority. We see non-Jewish Slovaks shrugging their shoulders about Aryanization. Why not pocket some extra money with this new policy, they reason, in a sluggish economy and a better-armed invading force now patrolling their streets? These are economically desperate times for non-Jewish Slovaks (and, if my hunches are correct, probably even more so for Jewish Slovaks), so they will use whatever programs necessary to survive, rooted entirely in self-interest.

The communist censors probably thought something, while viewing The Shop on Main Street, that is resurgent in modern-day Europe: that Nazi Germany’s anti-Semitic policies (from Aryanization to concentration camps and much more) were Germany’s responsibility and no one else’s. Complicity with the Nazi agenda is being debated among historians, politicians, and within the 125-minute runtime of The Shop on Main Street. For Tóno, the invaders inspire mutterings out of earshot and disdainful moues. His wife, Evelína (Hana Slivková), is concerned only about money – she is thrilled when she learns that the Aryanization program will give them a financial cushion (so she thinks), never contemplating the possibility this it is the beginning of the Jewish community’s ruin. Has she ever known someone from the community? It is not clear. Tóno’s non-Jewish acquaintances, too, are unfazed by these proclamations. Life is already difficult in the Slovak Republic (Czechoslovakia itself was not formed because its patchwork of ethnicities had common political pursuits and aspirations, but due to expedience and tensions with other ethnic groups), and any economic lifeline that will be offered to the non-Jews will be taken. Are those who support and/or participate in Aryanization irredeemable, given their desperation and the Nazi aim to manufacture conflict between Jews and non-Jews? Is Tóno an accessory of the Nazis?

These are questions that may seem small when grasper the enormity of the Holocaust. But that is the intention of directors Kadár and Klos, who often worked together co-directing films. In his directorial statement for the film in the New York Herald Tribune’s January 23, 1966 issue, Kadár (whose parents and sister were murdered at Auschwitz) writes that he was the principal director for this film – Klos agreed to be a sort of secondary director for The Shop on Main Street, deferring to Kadár because of his personal connection to the material. Klos also notes:

[Klos] knows that I am not thinking of the fate of all the six million tortured Jews, but that my work is shaped by the fate of my father, my friends’ fathers, mothers of those near to me and by people whom I have known. I am not interested in the outer trappings—figures, statements, generalizations. I want to make emotive films.

This is not an epic film intended to sweep viewers into the broadest discussions of the Holocaust. The Shop on Main Street is foremost a film about an unlikely connection – one separated by age, language, and faith – that is formed when exploitation would be so much easier. This is where The Shop on Main Street derives its pathos, in places where despair ought to triumph.

When Tóno meets Mrs. Lautmannová for the first time, he is surprised to see how disconnected she is from the world. She knows little of what is happening outside of the storefront door, and she delights in the company of her few – but dedicated – customers and the letters she receives from a relative in America (she hasn’t received their letter in some months). She closes the store on the Sabbath (sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday), retreating to her bedroom to pray and to read. Her friends in the Jewish community realize her frailty and lack of understanding, deciding to protect her from the news of pogroms and war. When lacking any authority to make laws or force political change, all they possess are their words and neighborliness – which they share with Tóno freely. Tóno is struck by their generosity, and his friendship with Mrs. Lautmannová grows. Ida Kamińska (the Polish actress was sixty-six years old when The Shop on Main Street was released, and nicknamed the Mother of the Jewish Stage) and Jozef Kroner (a star of numerous Slovak films, but this is his most recognized work) play off each other. In a series of successive (gentle and dark) misunderstandings, these two commoners are each other’s foils. He is a drinker, impatient, and needs to learn diplomacy. She is kind, religious, and concerningly naïve.Their performances are incredible, helping The Shop on Main Street pull off its tonal transitions that should have seen this film crumble into treacle.

Zdeněk Liška’s score to The Shop on Main Street alternates between foreboding string lines wracked with minor key, string-crossing double stops signaling the precariousness of the story’s developments, the unusual situation the characters find themselves in, and emotional torment. A memorable, carnival-like march that opens the film is used to stunning effect when employed ironically. Liška’s cue placement helps Kadar and Klos achieve the respective comedic and dramatic moods that the screenplay and actors so nimbly establish.

Lengthy is the canon of films depicting and commenting on the Holocaust. The Shop on Main Street, avoiding extensive declarations, is one of the earliest films on that list. Its examinations on complicity and the extent of human callousness reverberate to a present where Holocaust denial and blame-shifting continues to rail against the truth of untold millions and their descendants. It is a tremendous film, one containing unexpected power through its performances and the impossible situations the main characters find themselves in. Bathed in white, the final seconds of The Shop on Main Street show a wonderful dream, one that could only be crafted by a director pouring his decades-long grief for his parents and sister into his work. As the camera dances to the right, away from the shop on main street, we see in the background the shops and homes of the Jewish community now silent.

My rating: 10/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. The Shop on Main Street is the one hundred and fifty-eighth feature-length or short film I have rated a ten on imdb.

[maryxglz]

Official concept art for the Disney+ Loki TV series has shown Loki on Earth in what seems to be 1975. The Disney+ streaming service will be host to a whole range of live-action series set in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, featuring actors from the films themselves. One of the most exciting sees Tom Hiddleston reprising the role of Loki, the Trickster God who bedeviled his brother Thor.

Writer Michael Waldron has joined up with Marvel as showrunner of the Loki TV series, and there are reports that it will serve as a prequel series revealing Loki's secret role in human history. The first two Thor movies clearly established that Loki knew how to leave Asgard without using the Bifrost, which means he could potentially crop up anytime in the last millennia. It's generally been assumed that the focus would mostly be on events before the 20th century, an era essentially unexplored by the MCU to date.

An official photo from the Walt Disney Company's Investor Day suggest that won't necessarily be the case. Marvel Studios president Kevin Feige took to the stage to preview some of Marvel's upcoming projects, and he unveiled an official logo for Loki along with a piece of concept art that shows Loki on Earth in what appears to be 1975.

The logo has a simple font, with a mix of capital and lowercase letters, and is clearly evocative of Loki's chaotic nature. It doesn't have any direct comic book inspiration, but is vaguely reminiscent of the logo used by 2014's Loki: Agent of Asgard series. Meanwhile, the image itself shows Loki walking down a crowded street. The cinema sign behind the Trickster God is advertising Jaws, which sets the concept art in 1975.

There have been reports that the Loki series will explore different periods of Earth's history, so it's impossible to say for certain whether or not 1975 is an important time period. If it is, though, it's interesting to speculate how Loki could have shaped human society. The most notable events in the United States in 1975 were the end of the Vietnam War and Bill Gates' founding of Microsoft; Loki could potentially be involved in either, although Vietnam seems less likely given the conflict ended in April, while Jaws didn't release until June. Still, it's worth remembering that Marvel's previous period pieces - most notably Captain Marvel - played a little fast and loose with the timeline, so that may not be an indicator.

Marvel has been keeping their post-Phase 3 slate - including the Disney+ TV shows - under wraps until after the theatrical release of Spider-Man: Far From Home. Little by little, though, details are beginning to slip out, in this case through a presentation to Disney investors. Presumably more will be revealed at SDCC 2019, and this year's D23.