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catt-nuevenor · 2 years ago

Note

I remember the book thief. It was a good, sad, book.

I held off answering this until I finished the book, and here we are. I finished the Book Thief yesterday.

It is a very good book and I highly enjoyed my time with it. I also think it is a very important book, and it deserves the accolades and awards it has achieved over the years since its first publication.

That all sounds like I'm gearing up for a 'but', doesn't it?

I'm not, not really. But I've found myself coming back to the comment of 'sad' a lot while I was listening to it and since I finished it.

I say the following to give context to my approach to the book, not to associate myself directly with the struggles of the characters, or the historical events they are based on in an exploitative or inherently informed manner.

A bit of background on me. I'm a history nerd. I did an undergraduates degree in ancient history and archaeology, I watch documentaries for fun and leisure, I regularly consume books that deal with world history and such things do not shy away from difficult topics.

Side recommendations for non-fiction books related to WW2 and the topics discussed in the Book Thief:

Their Darkest Hour: People Tested to the Extreme in WWII by Laurence Rees

The Good Germans: Resisting the Nazis, 1933-1945 by Catrine Clay

Nazi Wives: The Women at the Top of Hitler's Germany by James Wyllie

The Holocaust: A New History by Laurence Rees

The Vanquished: Why the First World War Failed to End, 1917-1923 by Robert Gerwarth

Obviously Content Warning for Extreme Violence, Radicalisation, Bigotry, Genocide, and Psychological Trauma. These are not pleasant books at times, they are important.

Secondary bit of background info on me. My Grandfather served in the Royal Signals Corp during WW2 and volunteered the day war was declared in England. He served in Africa, Italy, took part in the D-Day landings, moved up through Belgium, the Netherlands, then into Germany where he and his unit were put in charge of minding SS prisoners in a converted concentration camp, north-northeast of Hamburg, for two years after peace was declared. During his time in Germany before the official end of the conflict, he served as a signalman with the 15th Scottish Division, this includes the liberations of Bergen Belsen, Neuengamme, and a sub camp of Neuengamme, Bad Segeberg concentration camp, the latter of which is where the SS prisoners were held.

I am incredibly lucky for three things in relation to my Grandfather:

He and my Grandmother kept all their letters from the war, labelled them in frankly archival detail, and passed said letters down to me.

Working in Signals allowed my Grandfather to write about events during the war that might not have otherwise made it past army censors, such as details, and dates.

He was a very good writer, and he wrote every day about all that he had seen.

Now, all that out in the open for everyone to get on the same page (more or less), back to the Book Thief.

In all honesty, I laughed and cheered more times than I felt upset while listening to it. I adore Rosa Hubermann, though I'd loathe her in reality if I had to deal with her, she and her 'tact' made me cackle with glee so many times. Zuzack's descriptions are as beautiful as they are at times a little too flowery for my personal tastes, but they are immersive despite this. And of course the Narrator is wonderful.

I always knew what was coming and the depth of what was happening beyond our view of events in the story, so it did take some of the punch out of matters for me. I couldn't ever say I was sad while listening to it.

A book can be read in as many ways as there are individuals to read it. My reading of it left me with a strong impression of civilian life during the third reich from a child's perspective, it taught me how to swear in German much to my (learning) German-speaking father's delight and bemusement, and it's given me a new recommendation to put forward to the teen offspring of friends as a good first book to discussing the complexities of WW2.

So, yes. I highly recommend the Book Thief by Markus Zuzack.

#asks #The Book Thief #Book recommendations

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winedad16 · 10 months ago

Text

12. Consider This

Masterlist

Warning(s):

N/A

Translation(s):

Volksempfänger (noun): "People's Receiver" "A range of German radio receivers developed … at the request of Joseph Goebbels, the Reich Minister of Propaganda of the Nazi regime. The purpose of the Volksempfänger program was to make radio reception technology affordable to the general public." -Volksempfänger Wikipedia Page

March 2nd, 1945

62:00:00:00

Klaus laughed when he saw Freddy. Exiting his office, he found the sub-officer subtly bopping to a record that he had put on earlier that morning while taking small mouthfuls of a dessert.

“Enjoying yourself, unteroffizier?”

Freddy whipped around, his face flushed as he wiped his mouth.

“Ida brought in some strudel.”

Klaus’ brows raised.

“Strudel?”

“Ja!” Fraulein Rahm excitedly said from across the room.

Freddy hummed and nodded.

“I got the last piece.”

Klaus watched as his partner scraped another chunk up off the plate with his fork before his eyes trailed up to watch Freddy’s relaxed expression. He felt a warm feeling fill his heart as he observed the tiniest details. Freddy’s focused gaze, his loose posture, the new wrinkles by his eyes. He did his best to hide his fond smile.

While being so wrapped up in his observations, Klaus didn’t notice Freddy holding the fork up to his mouth, offering him a piece.

“Want some?” Freddy quietly asked.

“Ah-” The captain glanced around the room, more specifically to Fraulein Rahm, who was failing at trying to look inconspicuous from behind her book- Obviously looking at the captain and waiting for his review. “Yes please.”

A bit bashfully, he took the strudel in his mouth while Freddy pulled the fork back and finished what was on the fork. The pastry was delicious- And if Klaus were to be honest, it could have been incredibly subpar and he would have loved it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had such a treat as this, so he closed his eyes and let the flavors settle in his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction as he chewed, enjoying the pastry for as long as he could.

“It’s lovely, Ida,” He complimented with a smile. “Best damn thing I’ve eaten in a while.”

Ida widely smiled back, almost goofily, but the captain could see that it was genuine. One of the most genuine ones he had seen from his colleague in a while. In a lack of professionalism, Klaus stuck a finger into the strudel and licked it off with a cheeky smile, meeting Freddy’s gaze for only a second before turning his attention to the rest of the room. He surveyed it for a moment, taking in the sight of the kids fumbling over meaningless tasks by the open windows, the ones that were letting in a cool but warming breeze that he just barely felt on his skin. He took it all in as he contemplated some ideas, passing them around in his mind as he chewed the inside of his mouth, blinking through the blurriness in his right eye.

“Alright!” He clapped his hands together and pivoted on his heel, startling some others in the near vicinity. “How about some music, hm?”

Freddy eyed him with a raised brow and a smile.

“Are we celebrating the end of the week, Hauptmann?”

Klaus shrugged with a nonchalant smile as he thumbed through the few records available on the shelf.

“I feel like we can afford it.”

He slipped a record out of its dusty sleeve, not caring to wipe the thick layer of dust off of his fingers until needed, and rested it into the player before placing down the needle. Freddy smiled when he heard the tune that began to play. With a small bite of strudel, he began to bop around.

“Hauptmann, would you care to join me?”

Klaus cocked a brow and crossed his arms with a teasing smile.

“I believe that we have children to watch over, Finkel.”

Freddy surveyed the room, his fork being pulled from his lips as he did so.

“There are less than twelve kids,” He dipped the fork back into the dessert. “The rest won’t be back for some time.”

“Well, they-”

“I can’t hear you,” Freddy goaded as he adjusted the volume of the gramophone. “Dance with me, Klaus.”

Freddy did his best to entice the captain with a playful smile without giving too much about their nature away. The captain couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at his partner’s movements. They were silly and loose– Something reminiscent of the earliest stages of their relationship. It made his heart feel warm.

“Give me the plate.”

***

In the next couple of minutes, the captain and sub-officer found themselves dancing around while swapping bites of strudel, becoming more comfortable with the eccentricity when they realized that the children and Ida didn’t seem to care. Of course, this moment could only be a happy one for so long. Especially when the consequences of Klaus’ actions strutted through the office door.

Freddy couldn’t help but avert his eyes when Rosie kneed Klaus in the balls. As discreetly as he could, he pulled the pair of headphones that Klaus had gifted him on and let himself drown in the music. He did his best to not stare at Jojo but he was eager to see the boy back in action. Klaus was doing his best to look at the young boy, too. As Rosie spoke, Klaus kept glancing down at Jojo, taking in the scars on his face and his hunched shoulders. A sickly feeling filled his gut the more he looked. After uttering a small promise to Rosie that they’d find Jojo a job, Klaus, Freddy, and Ida bid the two Betzlers goodbye. Once they were out of his line of sight, Klaus retreated into his office. Freddy let himself in a minute later after lightly knocking.

“Are you alright?” Freddy closed the door behind him.

An incredulous look was shot across the office at Freddy.

“Oh,” Freddy pouted and leaned onto the desk. “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

Klaus remained silent.

“As much as I feel for your pain,” Freddy propped himself up onto the edge of the desk. “Something was bound to happen. You couldn’t avoid them, especially Rosie, forever.”

The captain clenched his jaw as he fiddled with a pen. A few moments of silence passed before he relinquished his hold on the pen and surrendered it to his desk. With a sigh, he placed his head in his hands and quietly cursed into his palms.

“I’ve got to do something about this.”

Freddy cocked his head.

“I agree.”

Klaus looked to a window with a forlorn sigh hanging at the back of his throat. The soft hum of the volksempfänger fizzled into the room next to the other radio, the sound of propaganda battling the sound of battlefront updates. The sub-officer sighed and turned the volksempfänger off, listening to the other radio for just a second more, before turning the volume down.

“Why don’t we think about Venice, hmm?” Finkel placed a gentle hand on the captain’s shoulder. “It’s a few months away from now.”

Klaus ran his bottom lip between his teeth before putting down his pen. He leaned back in his chair with a soft sigh.

“Tell me about Italy.”

***

After work, the two men took a quick trip to the market in the hopes of finding a loaf, or, half a loaf, of bread in an attempt of making dinner a little less miserable. Of course, at this time of the year, especially in the specific economic conditions that they were in, they didn’t get their hopes up.

“I was thinking for the next few days we could be a bit more aware of what we have to eat for dinner?” Freddy began as he fiddled with the ration booklet in his pocket. “We could easily save enough for dinner with the Betzlers and-”

Freddy paused when he realized Klaus wasn’t listening to him. Instead of listening, Klaus was looking off with a glint of something in his eyes. Freddy followed the captain’s gaze to a man in a sling and a young child in his good arm. He watched as the man placed a gentle kiss on the child’s head as the boy giggled. Freddy glanced at Klaus, then at the man and boy, and then back to Klaus. Not being able to make a connection between them, he shrugged it off.

“Klaus? Are you still there?”

The captain stirred from his thoughts.

“Of course.” He sniffled. “You were saying?”

Freddy looked over Klaus’ shoulder before starting over.

March 5th, 1945

59:00:00:00

Klaus forgot how much he had despised the smell of chlorine. When he opened the door to the recreation pool, he gagged at the waft of chemicals that hit his nose. He had easily smelt worse smells in the past few years, but chlorine had a different effect on him.

“Ah, hell,” He muttered under his breath.

Closing the pool door behind him, he took a swig from his flask. Why did he think going into the pool early was a wise decision again? With a sigh, he took in his surroundings. The pool was currently in its physical therapy time block which was evidently clear by the sight of many males ranging from their teens into their golden years that were at different levels of physical disability. It made Klaus’ throat feel tight and dry. The older men reminded him of himself, while the young men reminded him of his nephews, Toni in particular. Klaus knew that the war had taken so much for too many. So many of them were young kids. Young kids like his nephews. Like Freddy’s nieces and nephews. Like Jojo. He knew that the young boy had a scheduled appointment, he had seen his name on the list outside the pool. It was relieving to know that he was getting help. It was important that he did and Klaus knew that. He just wondered how he could do more. Just how much in the grand scheme of things could he have done? He knew he could and could have done more, but what– The pool door swung open and the captain looked over his shoulder.

It was Freddy who entered the pool. Freddy, who was donning a swimsuit identical to Klaus’. A swimsuit that the sub-officer looked incredibly handsome in. His curls were peeking out from beneath what Klaus thought was a ridiculous-looking swim cap, but the sub-officer made it look like one of the cutest things in the world.

“Freddy,” He exhaled in an attempt to compose himself.

A small smirk formed on Freddy’s face. Klaus knew that Freddy knew that he looked good.

“Hauptmann Klenzendorf.”

Klaus cleared his throat and ran a hand over his front, straightening his posture.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Klaus could tell that the sub-officer was playfully rolling his eyes on the inside just by the look on his face.

“You forgot this,” Freddy lifted a swim cap and then a pair of sunglasses. “And these.”

The captain begrudgingly accepted the cap.

“These look ridiculous,” Klaus began as he pulled it onto his head.

Freddy held back a chuckle.

“They are a staple of the look. Sir.”

Klaus skeptically looked at the sub-officer.

“These, on the other hand,” The glasses were plucked out of Freddy’s hands, bent on one side, and then placed on the captain’s face. “Suit me perfectly.”

The sub-officer couldn’t help but smile.

“They do.”

Klaus and Freddy shared an endearing look before the sub-officer crinkled his nose.

“It smells odd in here, doesn’t it?”

Klaus nodded and took a sip from his flask.

“It’s chlorine.”

Freddy cocked a brow.

“Chlorine?”

“Ja,” He sighed and handed Freddy his flask.

The sub-officer took a small sip as the captain stood up from his seat.

“It’s a chemical that they put into pools to keep the water clean,” Klaus knelt at the edge of the pool and put his hand in. “I hate the smell.”

“It isn’t entirely pleasant.”

Klaus chuckled and shook his hand dry.

“It reminds me of Berlin, though. My friends and I would frequent a pool when it got too hot. Of course, the pool was always packed, but we didn’t mind.”

“Well,” Freddy checked the clock on the wall. “It’s about to be packed full of eleven-year-olds in an hour, so why don’t we sit and relax for a bit?”

Klaus surveyed the room around him, observing the men in the pool once more.

“Alright.”

***

“Don’t you think that conversation at the pool was odd?” Freddy asked from behind the shower curtain.

“Every conversation with Ida is odd, Freddy,” Klaus laughed from behind his toothbrush.

“No, I meant— Hang on.”

The chatter of shower water came to a stop and the curtain was pulled open.

“The one with Jojo, specifically,” The sub-officer clarified while he wrapped a towel around himself.

Klaus hummed and nodded.

“I’m not surprised. He’s bound to be curious about these things,” The captain sighed. “Between school, the office, and everything else, things are eventually going to contradict one another and he’ll want explanations and answers.”

“I know. It just seems so,” Freddy quickly ran the towel over his hair. “It seems too random of a moment for it to come up. What has occurred outside of the office that has made him ponder something?”

The captain spat into the sink.

“Do you think Rosie could have said something?”

Freddy bit his cheek and shook his head.

“No.” He paused. “No, I don’t think so.”

Klaus made a noncommittal noise before shelving his toothbrush. Freddy sighed.

“Well, if anything–” The sound of something falling in another room interrupted the sub-officer, which was followed by the sound of Martin barking.

Without a word, Klaus leaned over and kissed Freddy on the forehead before proceeding to walk out of the bathroom with a hurried gait.

“Where’s my boy?”

The sub-officer sighed again before stepping out of the shower. He ran the towel over his head an additional time before continuing to pat himself dry. After he wrapped the towel around his waist, he leaned onto the sink and began to ponder in the mirror.

Next Part

#freddy finkel #captain klenzendorf #captain k #jojo rabbit #finkeldorf #samrockwell #alfie allen #ao3 #fan fiction #klenzendorf x finkel

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alanaisalive · 9 months ago

Text

I hear other people of my generation talk about Kurt Cobain's death and how their schools brought in counsellors and let them out of class because the grief hit so many so hard.

My school was too numb to care. I personally didn't process much about Kurt Cobain until about 5 years later. To us at the time, he felt like one more body on an ever growing pile.

In March of 1994, I was in 11th grade. A kid from my class had recently transferred to the next district over, and on his way to school one morning, a friend of his family had a heart attack behind the wheel, swerved into his lane and hit him head on, killing him instantly. He was 17.

Only a few days later, a girl who had graduated from our school the previous year (the older sister of well loved twin seniors) was hit head on and killed by someone committing suicide by driving the wrong way up a freeway off ramp.

Then on March 28th, a senior from my school went to a party and killed 3 people. They brought in counsellors. His little sister was in my German class. She had to clear out his locker.

(His first parole board hearing was just a couple months ago. He's 48 years old and he's been in prison since he was a stupid 18 year old kid. Parole was denied.)

Kurt Cobain died a little over a week after the shooting. Life went on as what passed for normal at my school. I guess they had already spent all the grief counsellor money.

Kurt Cobain means a lot to me personally. Nirvana played music that really spoke to me. Music that screamed in pain. In college, Nirvana was my main autistic hyperfixation for a long time. They're the reason I first learned guitar and the reason I never did learn to give a shit about fitting in or being normal.

Once I started playing music, I found that my own musical voice didn't sound like Kurt. I found a few other bands that suited my playing style a bit more, and a lot of them were from Seattle too. My favorite, because I was still a Christian at the time, was Poor Old Lu.

In my senior year at the University of Minnesota, Duluth, I was accepted to a graduate program in public history in Milwaukee, but I wasn't good enough to qualify for the copious scholarships that had gotten me through undergrad. So rather than work full time while paying for grad school, I moved to Seattle to just work full time.

The only person I knew in Seattle was Scott Hunter, the then former lead singer of Poor Old Lu. They had broken up amicably in 1996. I went to his church and that's where I met a lot of people in the Seattle music scene. The two who have their own Wikipedia pages were Aaron Sprinkle (also of Poor Old Lu) who has been a solo musician and producer for decades, and Damien Jurado, another prolific solo musician. Damien and I bonded over being on the same antidepressants. He had been signed to Sub Pop records a while after Nirvana, but knew them socially from industry stuff. The way he talked about Kurt, I could tell he felt grief tinged with regret.

Eventually I left the church, and then Christianity altogether. I moved back to Minnesota for a year to get my shit together and then moved to Scotland. I never really unpacked my guitars.

My grief right now 30 years after Kurt's death is a mixture of grief related to him and his family and friends and also grief related to myself and all the versions of me who have lived and died in the past 30 years.

But as Kurt said: oh well, whatever, nevermind.

#story time #an old lady rambling about the past #gen x

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knnnhen-grad603 · 2 years ago

Text

Sorting Copy

The poster side needs:

Typografika’24 (Big title)

The Annual Conference on Type and Typography (Sub heading)

25 January 2024 – 20 February 2024 (Date)

Four weeks of events, including Designer talks and workshops featuring: Verena Gerlach, Johnson Witehira, Nadine Chahine, Carol Twombly, Joseph Churchward, Veronika Burian, Jessica Hische, and Tobias Frere-Jones (Small info)

AUT City Campus, Auckland.(location probably somewhere in the corner)

www.typografika24.com (website also somewhere in the corner)

*Needs an IG and FB Logo somewhere*

Brochure:

Panel 1-2/14

The Annual Conference on Type and Typography: Typografika, is a highly anticipated international conference, bringing together more than 300 typographers, type and graphic designers, as well as printmakers and artists.

As designers and artists, we want to create with expressive, engaging and readable typography that performs well across all devices.

With so many factors to take into account from typeface choice and layout through to page speed, responsive design and variable fonts, it’s hard to know how to keep up.

Over the course of four weeks, Typografika’24 will give you the full picture of what typography can and should be on web and print. Whether you’re just starting out or a seasoned pro, you’ll find heaps to learn and take away.

––

Please join us for the official launch of the conference at the Ngā Wai o Horotiu Marae (AUT Marae) 10am, 25 January 2024.

Panel 3/14

Joseph Churchward: Artist and Type Designer.

Joseph Churchward is a Samoan-born New Zealand graphic designer and typographer. He is known for having designed an estimated 690 original typefaces, many of which are in use around the world. His designs were also used in the masthead of The Evening Post newspaper. Churchward is born in Apia, Samoa, of Samoan, English, Scottish, Tongan and Chinese heritage. He founded Churchward International Typefaces in 1969. German company Berthold Fototypes subsequently distributed his fonts throughout the world. Over the span of his career, Churchward created more than 582 original typefaces. Joseph will be offering two different lectures as listed below on two different days.

Panel 4/14

Tobias Frere Jones: Educator and Type Designer.

Over 25 years, Tobias Frere-Jones has established himself as one of the world’s leading typeface designers, creating some of the most widely used typefaces, including Poynter Oldstyle, Whitney, Gotham, Surveyor, Tungsten and Retina.. He operates the company Frere-Jones Type in New York City, and teaches typeface design at the Yale School of Art MFA program.

Panel 5/14

Verena Gerlach: Type and graphic designer

Verena Gerlach was an instructor of photography at the Hochschule der Künste in Berlin in 1991 and spent 1992 doing a first-year course at Glasgow School of Art. From 1993 to 1998 she studied communication design at Kunsthochschule Berlin Weißensee and spent one year (1996) as an exchange student at the London College of Printing.

FF Karbid, FF Sizmo, and Chambers Sans are some of the few typefaces she created, Verena has her own studio for corporate design in Berlin.

Panel 6/14

Nadine Chahine: Researcher and Type Designer

Dr. Nadine Chahine is an award-winning Lebanese type designer working as the UK Type Director and Legibility Expert at Monotype. She has an MA in Typeface Design from the University of Reading, UK, and a PhD from Leiden University, The Netherlands. Nadine’s research focus is on eye movement and legibility studies for the Arabic, Latin, and Chinese scripts. She has numerous awards including two Awards for Excellence in Type Design from the Type Directors Club in New York in 2008 and 2011.

Her typefaces include: the best-selling Frutiger Arabic, Neue Helvetica Arabic, Univers Next Arabic, Palatino and Palatino Sans Arabic, and Koufiya.

Panel 7/14

Carol Twombly

Carol Twombly (born 1959) is an American designer, best known for her type design. She worked as a type designer at Adobe Systems from 1988 through 1999, during which time she designed, or contributed to the design of, many typefaces, including Trajan, Myriad and Adobe Caslon.

Twombly retired from Adobe and from type design in early 1999, to focus on her other design interests, involving textiles and jewelry. American calligrapher and type designer, a graduate from Rhode Island School of Design where her professor was Charles Bigelow. Joined the digital typography program at Stanford University, also under Bigelow. Working from the Bigelow & Holmes studio she designed Mirarae, which won her the 1984 Morisawa gold prize. Since 1988 she has been a staff designer at Adobe.

Panel 8/14

Veronika Burian: Type Designer

Veronika is born in Prague, originally studied industrial design in Munich and then worked as a product designer in Vienna and Milan. Discovering her true passion for type, she graduated with distinction from the MA in Typeface Design course in Reading, UK in 2003. Burian founded TypeTogether together with José Scaglione, today with twelve employees working around the world, one of the most important, independent type foundries. In addition to the development of tailored solutions for a variety of clients, the focus of TypeTogether’s font catalog is on expressive text typefaces for digital and analog media. Her typeface Maiola received, amongst others, the TDC Certificate of Excellence in Type Design 2004. Several other typefaces by TypeTogether have also been recognised by international competitions, including ED-Awards and ISTD.

Panel 9/14

Jessica Hische: Letterer and Designer

Jessica Nicole Hische is an American letterer, illustrator, and type designer. She is best known for her personal projects, 'Daily Drop Cap' and the “Should I Work for Free” flowchart. She published In Progress: See Inside a Lettering Artist's Sketchbook and Process, from Pencil to Vector in September 2015, which gives insight to her creative process and work she has completed as a hand lettering artist. She has spoken at over 100 conferences worldwide, but splits her time between San Francisco, CA and Brooklyn, NY.

Panel10/14

Johnson Witehira: Educator and type designer

Johnson Witehira is an artist, designer and academic of Tamahaki and Ngāi Tū-te-auru descent. He is the co-founder of both Indigenous Design and Innovation Aotearoa (IDIA) and Waahi Wairua. Since completing his doctorate in Māori Visual Art (2013), Johnson has been on a mission to bring Māori culture into all aspects of New Zealand life. He has led the development of Māori design for some of New Zealand's most prominent organisations. Other significant design projects include developing the first set of Māori alphabet blocks, co-designing the PAKU gardening tools for children and developing the first functional Māori-specific typeface.

Panel 11-12/14

KEYNOTE SPEAKERS:

Lectures by the speakers provide insight into their research and work methods. These sessions will prove to be very informative and helpful. There will also be a Q&A session at the conclusion of each session.

WORKSHOPS

There will be 2 different workshops offered during the conference. These are repeated twice, to include as many participants as possible. Please register your interest at the registration kiosk when you arrive on the first day

(Considering whether we put the “keynote speakers” timetable and the “Workshops” timetable together or separately)

(Two of the designers’ info has to be a double page spread)

(Events have to be in chronological order in the timetable)

Cover:

Typograpfika’24

The Annual Conference on Type and Typography

25 January 2024 – 20 February 2024

Events and Information

Backcover:

www.typografika24.com

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atundratoadstool · 3 years ago

Text

Dracula’s Lineage Speech

If anyone for any reason would appreciate a blow by blow breakdown of everything that is going on in the Count’s lineage speech, matching all of Dracula’s dialogue to Stoker’s research sources and describing the historical events being alluded to, I made one of those many many years ago and I’ve copy/pasted it under the cut:

Pre-History: Various sub-groups of the Finno-Ugric language group split from one another. These proto-Magyars, Dracula claims, are the blood that begot the legends of berserkir and werewolves. (In reality, the berserker myth is characteristic of North Germanic peoples which Stoker seems to have confused with Northern Finno-Ugric groups like the Finns.)

Dracula: "Here, in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric tribe bore down from Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin gave them, which their Berserkers displayed to such fell intent, which their Berserkers displayed to such fell intent on the seaboards of Europe, aye, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thought that the werewolves themselves had come."

Stoker's Source(s): "...Max Müller, by the unerring guide of language, has traced the original seat of this interesting people [the Magyars] to the Ural mountains which stretch upwards to the Arctic ocean; and pointing out the close affinity the Magyar tongue bears to the idiom of the Finnish race spoken east of the Volga, declares that the Magyars form the fourth branch of the Finnish stock, viz. the Ugric; and in his 'Science of Language' he gives striking examples of the similarity and connection which exist in the grammatical structure of the Magyar and the Ugro-Finnish dialects, particularly in the conjugation of verbs, which have aptly been called the "bones and sinews" of a language; and there is little doubt that the Magyars are none other than the same race that, under a different name, were called in the fourth century "Ugrogs." (Nina Mazuchelli's Maygarland, Chapter IV, pg. 45)

335 B.C.E.: The Getæ tribe of the Carpathian basin is defeated by Alexander the Great, which E. C. Johnson claims marks the point at which they began to be called the Dacians.

Stoker's Source(s): The first record which we have of these provinces refers to a people called the Getæ, whose name was changed to Dacians, after their defeat by Alexander the Great, in the fourth century B.C (E. C. Johnson's On the Track of the Crescent, Chapter VIII, pg. 105)

101-105 C.E.: The Dacians are conquered by Emperor Trajan and fall under Roman rule. Eventually, Rome withdraws from Dacia in 274 C. E., leaving the area open to incursions by the Visigoths.

Stoker's Source(s): It is sufficiently ascertained that these two provinces, joined to those of Transylvania and Temesvar, composed the kingdom of Dacia, finally conquered by the Romans. (William Willinkson's An Account of the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, Chapter I, pg. 45)

376 C.E.: Dacia is invaded by the Huns.

Dracula: "Here, too, when they came, they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept the earth like a living flame, till the dying peoples held that in their veins ran the blood of those old witches, who, expelled from Scythia had mated with the devils in the desert."

Stoker's Source(s): “Geographically situated to be the 'war ground' of Europe, these unfortunate Danubian provinces were open to inroads from all sides, and the barbarians made them happy hunting-grounds for human game; the wretched Roman colonists, who had elected to remain behind with their Dacian co-inhabitants, having a rough time of it. In 376 A.D. the Huns paid Dacia a 'morning call,' and subdued it, driving out the Goths. These fierce Scythians are not flatteringly described by Gibbon, to whose delightful pages I must refer my readers for details of their personal appearance, &c.” (E. C. Johnson's On the Track of the Crescent, Chapter VIII, pg. 106)

453 - 454 C.E.: Attila, from whom the Székely ethnic group (and Dracula) claim descent, dies in his tent. Afterwards, the subjects of the Huns unite under the Gepid ruler Ardaric, and break Hunnish control over the region a year later following the Battle at the River Nedao.

Dracula: "Fools, fools! What devil or what witch was ever so great as Attila, whose blood is in these veins?"

Stoker's Source(s): "They won, under their famous King Attila, a constant succession of victories against the Romans, till Attila's death in A.D. 453, and were then driven out of Dacia by the Gepidæ, a tribe of Goths..” (E. C. Johnson's On the Track of the Crescent, Chapter VIII, pg. 106) “The Székelys – who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns – were found settled on the eastern frontier when the country was conquered by the Magyars, and the two races at once fraternised.” (E. C. Johnson's On the Track of the Crescent, Chapter I, pg. 20)

567 - 670 C.E.: King Albion of the Lombards and Bayan I of the Avars unite to overtake Gepida. They do so in 567, killing the last Gepid king, Cunimund. Over a century later the Avars will fall under the control of the First Bulgarian Empire.

Dracula: "Is it a wonder that we were a conquering race, that we were proud, that when the Magyar, the Lombard, the Avar, the Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands on our frontiers, we drove them back?"

Stoker's Source(s): "The country was afterwards successively held by the Lombards, Avars, and Bulgars. The last named were, according to Gibbon, a nomad people from Russia and Poland, who sacrificed human beings, and indulged in polygamy. They overran Dacia, Thrace, Epirus, and Thessaly, and advanced as far as the Peloponnesus, till defeated by Belisarius (538-540 A.d.) and driven back to Dacia, where they finally obtained ascendancy over the Avars, 678-680.” (E. C. Johnson's On the Track of the Crescent, Chapter I, pg. 106)

892-895 C.E.: The Magyar prince, Árpád, conquers the region of the Carpathian basin and the Magyar people (descended from the Ugric group of early history) begin to settle there. This event will become known as the Honfoglalás. It is at this point that Dracula claims the Székelys (already in the Carpathians) are recognized as kindred to the Magyars.

Dracula: "Is it strange that when Árpád and his legions swept through the Hungarian fatherland he found us here when he reached the frontier, that the Honfoglalás was completed there? And when the Hungarian flood swept eastward, the Székelys were claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the guarding of the frontier of Turkeyland. Aye, and more than that, endless duty of the frontier guard, for as the Turks say, 'water sleeps, and the enemy is sleepless.' Who more gladly than we throughout the Four Nations received the 'bloody sword,'or at its warlike call flocked quicker to the standard of the King?"

Stoker's Source(s): "...he drew himself up proudly until he almost stood on tip-toe, and with a look expressive of triumph replied, "En Magyar vagyok" ("I am a Magyar"), and went on to inform us that he was the grandson of an unfortunate noble whose lands had been forfeited, but whose descent could be traced to the honfoglalas, as the conquest of the Hungarian fatherland by Arpád in the ninth century is called, – an event regarded by the Magyars in the same light as we ourselves view the Norman Conquest." (Nina Mazuchelli's Maygarland, Chapter V, pg. 203)

“The Székelys have played a very important part in the history of Hungary and Transylvania. They were recognised as kindred by the Magyars on their first entering Hungary, and the two races have remained allies ever since. The Székelys also received certain privileges in return for their having guarded the frontier towards Moldavia and 'Turkey-land.'" (E. C. Johnson's On the Track of the Crescent, Chapter XIX, pgs. 234) “Water sleeps and the enemy is sleepless” (William Willinkson's An Account of the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, Appendix 5, Section II, pg. ) “Formerly, only nobles could hold land in Hungary. They paid no taxes, but were obliged to assemble their retainers, and flock to the king's standard, on receipt of the 'bloody sword,' as a signal of national emergency.” (E. C. Johnson's On the Track of the Crescent, Chapter XVIII, pg. 228)

1444 C.E.: Władysław III, King of Hungary, is in the midst of the Varna Campaign, which aims to expel the Ottomans from Europe. Janos Hunyadi (Hungarian military leader and Voïvode of Transylvania) demands that Vlad II Dracul of Wallachia join the effort against the Turks as Władysław's vassal. Vlad II declines, and his son, Mircea II, joins the campaign instead. Later that year, Wladyslaw III dies at the battle of Varna.

Stoker's Source(s): "The Hungarians being defeated at the celebrated battle of Varna, Hunniades their general, and regent of the kingdom during Ladislas's minority, returned in haste to make new preparations for carrying on the war. But the Voïvode, fearful of the Sultan's vengeance, arrested and kept him prisoner during a year, pretending thereby to show to the Turks that he treated him as an enemy. The moment Hunniades reached Hungary, he assembled an army and placed himself at the head of it, returned to Wallachia, attacked and defeated the Voïvode, and caused him to be beheaded in his presence; after which he raised to the Voïvodate one of the primates of the country, of the name of Dan. ." (William Wilkinson's An Account of the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, Chapter I, pg. 18-19) [No notes taken by Stoker on this section]

1444-1447 C.E.: Vlad II Dracul captures and temporarily imprisons Hunyadi as he returns from his defeat at Varna. Later, Hunyadi (now regent of Hungary) conspires with local boyars to assassinate Vlad II and Mircea (who is allegedly blinded with hot pokers and buried alive).

1448-1460 C.E.: Hunyadi is defeated by the Ottomans under Murad II at the Battle of Kosovo. He continues his campaigns against the Ottomans until his death in 1456.

Dracula: "When was redeemed that great shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the Crescent?"

Stoker's Source(s): “The Wallachians under this Voïvode joined again the Hungarians in 1448, and made war on Turkey; but being totally defeated at the battle of Cossova, in Bulgaria, and finding it no longer possible to make any stand against the Turks, they submitted again to the annual tribute, which they paid until the year 1460, when the Sultan Mahomet II., being occupied in completing the conquest of the islands in the Archipelago, afforded them a new opportunity of shaking off the yoke.” (William Wilkinson's An Account of the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, Chapter I, pg. 18-19)

1460-1461 C.E.: Vlad III (son of Vlad II) wages a bloody campaign against the Ottomans in alliance with Hungarian monarch Matthias Corvinus (son of John Hunyadi).

Dracula: "Who was it but one of my own race who as Voïvode crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his own ground? This was a Dracula indeed!"

Stoker's Source(s): "Their Voïvode, also named Dracula, did not remain satisfied with mere prudent measures of defence: with an army he crossed the Danube and attacked the few Turkish troops that were stationed in his neighbourhood; but this attempt, like those of his predecessors, was only attended with momentary success.” (William Wilkinson's An Account of the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, Chapter I, pg. 18-19)

1462 C.E.: Radu the Handsome (Vlad III's brother who allied with the Ottomans and became a Muslim convert) lays siege to Poenari Castle and is appointed the "Bey of Wallachia" by Mehmed II. Vlad III, in the meantime, appeals to Corvinus and is arrested and imprisoned.

Dracula: "Woe was it that his own unworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk and brought the shame of slavery on them!"

Stoker's Source(s): "Mahomet having turned his arms against him, drove him [Vlad III] back to Wallachia, whither he pursued and defeated him. The Voïvode escaped into Hungary, and the Sultan caused his brother Bladus [Radu] to be named in his place. He made a treaty with Bladus, by which he bound the Wallachians to perpetual tribute; and laid the foundations of that slavery, from which no efforts have yet had the power of extricating them with any lasting efficacy." (William Wilkinson's An Account of the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, Chapter I, pg. 18-19)

1526 C.E.: Suleiman the Magnificent defeats Hungarian forces at the Battle of Mohacs, which results in the partition of Hungary, with Transylvania becoming a technically independent principality paying tribute to the Ottoman Empire.

Dracula: Again, when, after the battle of Mohács, we threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were amongst their leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we were not free."

Stoker's Source(s): “After the battle of Mohacs, which extinguished Hungarian independence, Transylvania fell into the hands of 'the unspeakable,' who made it an independent principality under the protection of the Porte; the country being governed by princes who were elected by the people, subject to the approval of the Sultan.” (E.C. Johnson's On the Track of the Crescent, Chapter XVI, pg. 206)

???? C.E.: An unknown "Dracula" of a later age (than Vlad II and III) crosses the Danube and fights against the Turks.

Dracula: "Was it not this Dracula, indeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age again and again brought his forces over the great river into Turkeyland, who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again, though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph!"

Stoker's Source(s): Unknown. The description of a "Dracula" who crossed the Danube could apply to a number of historical figures. Stoker took some notes on Voïvode Michael the Brave (who was a member of the Drăculești blood line and campaigned against the Turks) from Wilkinson (pg. 26), but his notes focus not on his military actions, but rather on the popular opposition to his appointment as Voïvode of Transylvania.

Stoker also took notes on Voïvode Constantin Brâncoveanu, regarding his refusal to take an active part in a campaign led by Ahmed III. (pg. 32)

#Bram Stoker #Dracula #Dracula Daily #The Count #Vlad III #Transylvania #Hungary #Romania #liveblogging dracula 2022

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buckybraneslover111 · 3 years ago

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Love p.2 - B.B.

summary: after the bombing in Vienna, Bucky was forced to come out of hiding, because he is framed for it. You and Steve found out where Bucky was living and decided to pay him a visit. After getting caught and arrested, they took Bucky to be evaluated, only for him to go rouge on everyone. What happens when you try to get him to come back to normal?

a/n: do not repost, translate or copy my work, also gif is not mine! credit to the creator. minor do not read!!

warnings: fighting, gun violence, mention of blood, smut 18+, lovemaking, breed kink, crying, choking(non-sexual), fluffy fluff:)

You and Steve snuck into Bucky’s apartment he had been hiding in since he pulled Steve out of the water that night, and now that you got the news about the bombing and it potentially being Bucky who did it, you were both concerned. You both looked around, moving trash around and looking behind everything. Steve grabbed a notebook that was on top of the fridge as you walked over to him looking over his shoulder, he flipped through the pages and found a picture of himself and a picture of you.

“Heads up guys, German Special Forces approaching from the south,” Sam said in your earpieces.

“Understood,” Steve said. You peaked over your shoulder to see Bucky standing in the middle of the room. You tapped Steve and he turned around facing Bucky with you. You both looked at Bucky as he stared at both of you sternly. “Do you know us?”

“You’re Steve and your y/n. I read about you both in a museum.” Bucky looked down at his feet then back up at both of you.

“I know you are nervous, you have every right to be. But you are lying.” Steve said.

“I wasn’t in Vienna, I don't do that anymore,” Bucky said.

“They're entering the building,” Sam said.

“Well, the people who think you did are coming here now, and they are not planning on taking you alive,” you said as you took a step closer to Bucky as he stepped back.

“That's good, great strategy,” Bucky said looking nervous.

“They’re on the roof, I'm compromised,” Sam said hearing the footsteps approach the door.

“This doesn't have to end with a fight, Buck,” Steve said.

Bucky sighed, “It always ends in a fight.” he took off his gloves and sighed.

“Five seconds,” Sam said.

“Steve...” you looked at Steve.

Steve said to panic, knowing you didn't have much time, “You pulled me from the river why?”

“I don't know.” Bucky looked straight at Steve.

“Yes, you do.”

“BREACH! BREACH!”

...

After getting caught by the German police and getting taken back to the headquarters where they put Bucky in a holding chamber, where they locked him up to get evaluated. You, Steve, and Sam all got an ear full from Natasha and Tony, but you were more concerned about if Bucky was alright. You sat at the table and looked through the glass at Bucky on camera as he was just sitting there with the German investigator. Sam came up on the side of you and put his hand on your shoulder causing you to jump a little, looking at him and then back at the camera.

“You alright y/n?” he said softly.

“Yeah, I just wanna make sure he is okay.” you nodded crossing your arms on your chest. Sam looked down and noticed the ring on your finger.

“You still wear your wedding ring?” he said.

You looked up at him sighing, looking back at the camera, “Yeah.” You loved Bucky very much and you just wanted to kiss him all over and tell him how much he means to you. You knew you couldn’t because of certain circumstances but just wearing the ring made you believe that one day you could share the love with him and let him know how much he means to you. You were watching the interview happening on the cameras when all of a sudden the power goes out. You jumped up and looked at Steve and Sam then at Sharon. “What happened?!”

“Sub-level five, east wing,” Sharon said to the three of you. You all got up and ran down to the sub-level, hoping to get to Bucky in time. When you guys reached the sub-level, you noticed all the guards were knocked out. Steve walked into the room and was talking to Zemo as you and Sam looked at Bucky. Sam turned around and Bucky swung at him hitting the wall and breaking it. He grabbed Sam and punched him then grabbed his jaw and threw him across the room collating with the base he was in before. Steve pushed you out of the way as he and Bucky started to fight.

“Y/n, run!” Steve yelled. Bucky kept fighting him until he punched Steve down the elevator shoot. You stood by the stairway, Bucky turned to look at you as he cracked his neck. You gulped and ran up the stairs, Bucky following you close behind. You made it to the upper level and turned around to face Bucky, slowly walking backward. He looked at you with no emotions, like you were his prey.

“Bucky, I don't want to fight you, please.” you looked behind him and saw Tony as he motioned you to stay quiet. You needed to distract Bucky long enough for Tony. to sneak attack him. “Bucky, this isn't you,” you slowly started to back away from him, “You don't hurt people. Please snap out of it.” Bucky picked up a gun that was on the floor and he aimed it at you. “Please.” Tony came out from behind the corner and shot two shock ways at Bucky as you moved out of the way, picking up two guns from the floor, and putting one in your back pocket. The two men continued to fight until Tony was knocked to the floor. Sharon came up and started fighting him, only to be thrown into tables. You quickly got up and jumped onto his back, putting him in a headlock to cut off his breathing. He struggles a bit to get you off, then quickly walks backward into a wall, causing you to let go and groan.

He turned quickly and punched the wall near your head, you quickly moving out of the way. You punched him in the stomach and kicked him away from you. He stumbled back and you jumped onto a chair and tried to kick him, but he grabbed both your legs, wrapping them around his neck as he held you up from your back. He slammed onto a table, your legs tightening around his neck to hold him there. He reached down with his metal arm and wrapped his hand around your neck and started to squeeze, causing you to take short breaths. “B-Bucky! At least you could try to recognize me.” you groaned as he squeezed your neck a little tighter. Your eyes begin to water, wrapping your hands around his metal wrist, you both looking into each other's eyes. “J-James...” you said softly, trying to get air to your lungs, “James...please...” For a moment, you can see in his eyes that he knows who you are. You were the only person who was allowed to call him James, he hated it, but you loved it. Everyone called him Bucky because he didn't like his first name, but for you, you could call him whatever you wanted. His face begins to soften, the grip on your neck loosens, and you gasp for air, getting your lungs full again.

“B-Bunny…” he whispered to you, a spec of hope running through your eyes.

“I-I can’t breathe Bucky…” he still had a hold on your neck and he pulled his hand away and let go of you. You took in deep breaths and he stumbled back looking down at his hands.

“I-I-…” he was cut off by Kei kicking him.

…

Bucky groaned waking up, his metal arm stuck under a machine to prevent him from hitting anyone. You were sat down in front of him, with your knees to your chest, your head resting on them. Sam stood on the side of you and looked at him, “Steve.” he yelled out. Steve walked over to where you guys were. Sam shook you awake, “Y/n wake up.” You groaned and opened your eyes and stood up quickly looking at Bucky.

“James…” you took a step towards him and he looked up at you with a small smile.

“I wish I could remember you…”

“Don’t even bother y/n. He says he can’t remember but he is a liar.” Steve scoffed.

“I remember you, Steve, just not her.” he looked up at you. You walked over to Bucky and slapped him across the face. Sam went to go pull you away, but Steve stopped him. Bucky turned to look back at you and he sighed.

“I deserved that.”

“You remember him but not me?! Your wife for 4 years?!” you didn’t realize you were crying until you let out a sob.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“I get nothing?! Nothing?!” you punched him in his chest and then in the face. Steve walked over and pulled you away from him. Bucky spits blood out and he looked at both of you.

��I deserved that. I’m guessing I went rogue again?”Bucky looked at Steve.

“Yeah, and you nearly killed her Buck.” Steve said, “But we need your help.”

“My help?”

…

After a long fight, you and everyone else returned to the compound. You walked to the elevator with everyone then turned around when you didn’t see Bucky. You looked at him as he was just standing there in silence. You walked over to him and he looked at you, “If you want, you can come up to my room and shower before you go.” Bucky looked at you with a little happiness in his eyes. He was going to go to Wakanda to get help to break himself free of Hydras' hold over him. He nodded and you turned towards the elevator, everyone getting in, letting you two come in. The door opened up on your floor and you and Bucky stepped out. He followed you to your room as you opened the door letting him go first.

“Y/n?” Steve said as you turned to him, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” you smiled a bit then walked into the room. Bucky stood by the table awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with you. You toss your tactical gear on the table, “Follow me.” you walked to your bathroom and turned on the shower getting it to a warm temperature. You started to strip your clothes, Bucky turning away from your naked form. You looked back at him, then turned away, “You don’t have to join me, but figured we could save water.” You stepped into the shower closing the glass door behind you, standing under the water letting it run down your face, sweat and blood falling off of you. You hummed at the warm feeling of the water relaxing your muscles. Before you could reach for the shampoo, you heard the glass door open and shut, feeling a presence behind you. You looked back up at Bucky as he towered over you.

“Save water,” he said softly.

You nodded and rinsed out your hair, moving forward out of the way of the showerhead, allowing Bucky to step forward, letting the warm water run down his body. You turned around, his back facing you, his head tilted up to let the water run down his long hair. You wrapped your arms around his waist, your hands on his stomach, resting your head between his shoulders. You noticed his breathing was uneven and you heard him sniffle. “It’s okay Bucky.”

“I want to remember y-you. I-I want to feel loved again.” he let out little hiccups as he cried silently letting tears fall down his face.

“Shhh it’s okay Bucky.” you kissed his shoulder. He turned around in your arms and looked around at you as your bodies pushed together.

“W-What if I can’t remember you? What if I go to Wakanda and they can’t help me and I-I’m just this killing machine and I can’t stop. I want to love you again. I wanna know what it’s like to feel that way again.” he held your cheeks with his hands, looking into your eyes with his glossy, teary blue ones.

“If you want to remember then go to Wakanda and get help. I’ll be here, waiting. I haven’t given up on you Bucky. I waited 43 years to finally see you again, I can wait even longer if that means I get to have you back.” you whispered to him, your lips close to his.

“What was the nickname I gave you? I-I remember I called you it before.” he sniffled.

“Bunny.” you blushed a little at the nickname. He gave you that name when you first started dating because you were always so cheerful and outgoing while he was the opposite.

“Bunny…” he said softly, “Kiss me.” he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, leaning in, kissing you with a lot of passion, you returned the kiss and pulled him closer to you if that was possible. He pushed you up against the shower wall, pulling away to kiss your neck. You moaned out his name wrapping your fingers in his hair to keep him close to you.

“Make love to me James.” you moaned softly closing your eyes. You felt his hard-on press up against your stomach, his eagerness getting ahead of him, pulling your leg up to wrap around his waist. “James, take it slow.” you pulled him off your neck as his blue eyes were dark orbs now. “Please.” he put your leg down and turned you around so your chest was against the shower wall. You pant feeling him rub his tip against your weeping hole.

“Shhh, I got you,” he whispers in your ear, sliding himself into you, both of you moaning at the contact. He pushed in deep, allowing you to feel every vein and inch of him until he was all the way inside of you.

“B-Buck...” you close your eyes moaning at the feeling.

“I-Its okay, I’m right here.” he pulled out until only the tip was in then he pushed back into you slowly groaning at your tightness. You put your hands against the shower wall trying to grip onto something as he started a slow hard pace, groaning in your ear every once in a while. You were a moaning mess, moaning his name and profanity. He put one hand on your hip and one hand on top of yours against the shower wall, your fingers interlocking with his. You threw your head back as one particular thrust hits against the squeezy thing inside of you.

“I-I love you James.” you moaned loudly, his thursts picking up in pace, his balls slapping against your clit, “I’m close!” you can feel the coil in your stomach begin to tighten, your orgasm approaching you quickly, his thrusts getting harder, hitting your spot every time. You gripped his hand hard, your orgasm taking over you, your legs shaking as you came around his cock. “James! Fuck! Cum inside me please!” you threw your head back against his shoulder as he was trying to catch his own orgasm.

“Yeah?! You want me to fill you up? Breed your little hole? Put a baby in you?!” he pinned both of your hands against the shower wall above your head, his thrusts getting faster and deeper.

“Yes! Give it to me Bucky! Fill me up!” you moaned loudly turning your head to look into his eyes. He looked into yours, lust running through his. “T-Tell me you l-love me, please?” tears started to form in your eyes as you both looked into each other's souls.

“I-I love y-you.” he leaned in, kissing you deeply, pushing deep inside of you, filling you up with his cum. He pulled away and leaned his forehead agaisnt the shower wall as you both breathed heavily. “I love you bunny...”

He pulled out of you and you both finished your shower, washing and kissing each others body. You turned off the shower and stepped out handing him a towel while you wrap yourself in one. Following him out of the bathroom, you walked to your closet putting on a pair of biker shorts and a long shirt. Bucky put on his boxers, sitting on the bed looking at you. You walked over to him standing between his legs, running your hands through his hair, “You didnt have to tell me you loved me. It was the heat of the moment and I...”

He cut you off, “I do love you, I just wish I could be the man you had before.” he rubbed your hips under your shirt.

“I love you Bucky...” you kissed the top of his head, resting your head on his. “I got you something, you dont have to wear it, i just want you to have it.” you reached in your nightstand and took out a box handing it to him. He put his vibranium arm around your waist and opened the box seeing a wedding band. “This isn't your exact wedding ring, but its similar and I want you to have it. I want you to know that you arent doing this for me, but you are doing this for yourself, to be a better person. Like I said, I will be here waiting for you when you are ready.” you hugged his neck as you felt a wet spot on your shirt from him crying.

“T-Thank you.” he hugged your waist as you both stood there in silence, savoring the last moments you will have together until he comes back, not knowing how long that would be.

...

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theodorebasmanov · 3 years ago

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I’ve watched “Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga” (“How I felt when I saw that girl”) and it’s probably the first movie I’ve watched with subtitles while not understanding the original language at all. I mean – when my English was bad, I watched movies in English with subs, since my German is bad, I very rarely watch movies (or musicals) in German with subs, but never have I watched something in which I understood only the subs. Well, this day has come – I’ve watched this movie and enjoyed it a lot! I found it very funnily – I googled something like “gay musicals” and there it was – a Wikipedia page “LGBT-related musicals” (or “LGBT-related musical films”) and there I found it, decided to watch and added to my list, and only then realized that I can’t find it in English. Well, today I’ve closed my first midyear at the University (remember about the time machine, I'm at the end of January of 2020) and found these two hours to watch on screen without any distractions – and these two hours were great! Of course, it’s a musical – what is more, an Indian one, - which means it’s colourful, with songs and dances, with national clothes (and a little bit of religion). (I don’t know, but probably here the spoilers begin) It’s a lesbian story, in a pretty conservative country which means a lot of trouble, but unexpectedly it has a very happy ending – the main character is with her love, her father is finally following his passion in life and opened a restaurant, the guy who helped the main character with her love life is finally a successful screenwriter. Now, I have to fight the unbearable urge to rewatch both parts of “Bahubali” (these are the only Indian movies, I’ve watched before today).

#movie #musical #indian movies #ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga #how i felt when i saw that girl #anil kapoor #sonam kapoor ahuja #rajkummar rao #juhi chawla #lesbian #gay woman #lesbian movie #indian lesbians #indian lgbt #lgbt #lgbt movie #lgbtq+#theatre

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strikerandoverachiever · 3 years ago

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Chapter 163 Spoilers

Everyone, the spoilers for chapter 163 of Blue Lock are out and I AM LIVING FOR THEM!😆😆😆❤️❤️❤️

As last week, we didn’t get a new chapter, I didn’t update my predictions either, but I remember what I wished to see before this chapter came out and I’m stoked so much of what I wanted is finally happening!!!❤️❤️❤️

That being said, the spoilers can be found here: https://mobile.twitter.com/RayugaX101

Moving on to my reaction to them…

According to Google Translate, I got “Kaiser Impact” in the larger text and what I believe to be a line from Isagi: “I realized the true meaning, and the scenery of the battlefield changed completely!!”

Then, I guess Isagi is thinking about the German team’s phylosophy, rational strength and just how far that has got all of them and probably of how Kaiser embodies all of the best attributes that Isagi himself, strives for.

As for Bachira, I don’t know what he’s saying, maybe crush Kaiser or how good that’s gonna feel… either way, I wanna see Isagi step on to that field RIGHT NOW!!!

Until then though, the 2 legends themselves, have decided to grace the field: NOA & LAVINHO.

Now, as far as their following conversation goes, I don’t really get what they’re talking about especially in the first page where they interact, but I’m guessing Lavinho is trying to taunt Noa, goad him into an argument, maybe and… the man just isn’t having it. 😅

I mean, honestly, just look at that face, it’s hilarious just how much he doesn’t have a single care about what Lavinho said to him. And Raichi’s having way too much fun with whatever’s happening, but he won’t be smilling by the time we reach of the of this chapter, that’s for sure!😂😂

Regarding Noa’s line though, Google Translate gave me this:

•

“It’s a team of children who don’t have proper adults.”

•

I don’t know what I’m supossed to say to that…😅😅

Lavinho sure does though; the second part of his dialogue reads “I’ll kill you”; guess he took that “proper adults” commentary to heart.

Next, we have the convo between Kunigami & Noa:

Thankfully, we have translations for this part from fellow Blue Lock fan @hoshi801_ on twitter:

Now, on one hand, I get it: Kunigami couldn’t score, he refuses to link up with Kaiser and he doesn’t have another back-up plan, so he’s getting benched.

As a reader though, I wanted to see more of him, maybe have him play a bigger role and get into his Wild Card flashbacks, before moving on to other players; who’s with me on this?

Still, I like how Noa doesn’t belittle Kunigami, though I may be feeling disappointed by the latter’s reaction, since getting benched is all on him.

Things are getting fired up, cuz guess who’s getting subbed in now?

ISAGI.

WhoooooooAAAAAH,

let’s GOOOOOOOOO!

We’re getting closer to DETHRONING Kaiser!

Once more, I am grateful to the above mentioned Twitter user for translating this part too:

As for Yukimyia, I understand his reaction, because he’s frustrated he hasn’t accomplished as much as he’d wanted at Blue Lock: he wasn’t ranked 1st, he wasn’t the centre-forward in Blue Lock 11, he didn’t score in the match against the U-20 and finally, he didn’t make it into the German team either; still, he was ranked 13th, so he had a decent shot to be picked, but he wasn’t chosen this time either.

I like seeing him this frustrated, though; it’s a precious glimpse into an ambitious ego.

*On a little side note though, when Noel Noa said he chose Isagi cuz of “Fanservice”…😂😂😂😂😂

What is this, are we headed towards the beach episode??!!??

Or did the voices of Noel Noa and Muneyuki Kaneshiro, the author, get mixed up??!??

Getting serious again, when Kaiser called Isagi “Blue Lock’s Hero”… man he certainly raised the stakes: Isagi’d do well to score here or he can kiss everything goodbye, from making it on the new U-20 team, to becoming the best striker in the world.

Makes me wonder if fanservice really was the only motivation behind Noa’s decision to bring Isagi into the game; I get a feeling there’s more behind it.🤔

How does everyone else feel?

Still, at least if this is the kind of fanservice we’re getting,

I’m not complaining!😂

#blue lock #bllk #source: twitter #blue lock 163 spoilers #bllk 163 spoilers #blue lock chapter 163 spoilers #bllk chapter 163 spoilers

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notmrskennedy · 3 years ago

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Bites and Bullet Holes

(Spencer Reid x Female leaning but sorta GN! Reader)

Summary: Spencer, during college, was bitten by a dog. Working a case involving dogs brings back old memories and friends...

W/C: 3,384

Warnings: Dog bites, bullet holes, bad writing?

A/N: Guess what I found y’all? I haven’t edited it one single bit but I hope it goes over well anyway. When I was working at the kennel I kept having anxiety over one of my kids getting into a fight so I made this. Be a little extra gentle with this one.

---

As he leaned over the victim, he made the mistake of thinking about you. Spencer thought he’d gotten over it. The whole randomly thinking about you thing—the thing that’s happened too many times before. He’d chalked it up to you being best friends 15 years ago. Told himself that it’s normal to miss your friends from college.

But over a dead body? This was new.

Though he supposes the dead girl could’ve looked like you in another timeline. There’s facial structure similarities—at least to you 15 years ago at 19. She’s been strangled with her dog’s leash and there’s some unspoken quality about her that just…jerks him into nostalgia over you.

(You are probably the one that got away, but if he’s being honest, you live in DC. He could go see you right now if he wanted to.)

Morgan leans over Spencer and points at the dog leash. “It had to be someone she knew if the dog went off with our un-sub.”

Spencer nods, fidgeting with the 15 year old scars on the inside of his wrist. Whether or not Morgan noticed, he thankfully doesn’t press. Spencer is having enough trouble stamping down that knee-jerk reaction to think about you, let alone if Derek thinks to point out the magical, ‘hey weren’t you bitten by a dog?’

Spencer doesn’t remember the incidence well enough to comment. He wonders if you do.

“We’ll have to check shelters for the dog,” Spencer remarks. “3.3 million dogs enter shelters every year in the US.”

Morgan nods, pulls off a glove, pulls out his phone. Spencer looks around the park. Behind the police tape are plenty of people walking their dogs. The sorts of breeds that you’ve gushed about 15 years ago. His brain knew too much about dobermans, shepherds, mallinois—he could even hear that pretty little gasp you had when you’d point out a particularly well trained monster of a pet.

Spencer wonders if you ever did anything with your finance degree, if you even ended up finishing college at all. You’d come close to dropping out over calculus—he hadn’t been around long enough to help you through the even harder stuff. This wasn’t the first time he’d wanted Garcia to look you up, but it was the first time he’d considered it.

“Music to my ears, mama,” Morgan laughs into the phone and Spencer tunes back in.

“I’ll get that puppy BOLO out,” Garcia chirps back. Spencer can imagine her wringing a fluffy pencils through her fingers. “We’re going to find this doggie and make sure that psycho didn’t get him too.”

Spencer smiles despite himself. Penelope would’ve liked you.

JJ sets coffee down in front of his stack of files. She smiles, gracefully sits down next to him. Spencer tries his best to ignore her insistence. Tries to ignore the ever prominent eye contact screaming ‘We’re going to talk about something uncomfortable!’

“So, Spence,” she says, pausing for his attention with a sip of her own coffee. He looks up for half a glance before going back to the files. He doesn’t know why, but he’s sure there’s something in this stack of work the first victim had brought home with her. They all knew the un-sub, he had to be somewhere.

“Spencer,” she says more insistently. He makes the mistake of looking up, of letting her place a hand on his. She gently turns the wrist over and pointedly glances towards the teeth marks. “Are you doing okay?”

He opens his mouth, but decides some things are better kept to himself. He thinks about saying that no, he wasn’t alright, that being plagued by thoughts of the first-love-of-his-life is haunting him more than the dog fight.

That he can see your face in each of these victims. In their dogs. In the places they died.

Dogs didn’t like him. They never did. The dog bite wasn’t the big deal out of the altercation.

JJ won’t understand, so he offers her a truthful smile and says, “I’m okay. Seriously. More than 4.5 million people are bitten by dogs each year. I’m not special.”

JJ nods. Spencer goes back to his files. He forgets to hide his lovesick agony. JJ forgets not to notice.

It’s 4AM and he knows he’s remembering it wrong. That the dog hadn’t been that big. That the teeth hadn’t really gotten him that bad. The bright red devil eyes and thousand yards of slobber were more than grossly incorrect.

He sits up in bed and forces himself to remember the parts that were real. How real you had been. Before and after.

Your car had broken down as you were leaving for work—already late—and you’d begged him for a ride. Promised calculus homework on your boss’s couch and only having to let the dogs out. No shit. No bleaching crates. No nothing. Just you, him, and some calculus homework.

He’d caved. Now, running his hands over his eyes, he laughs at how obvious he had to have been. A skinny little 19 year old pimple of a boy majorly crushing on the first person to pick him out of a crowd and decide they’d be friends. The first friend who’d forced him to a tailgate at a football game. The only person he’d do absolutely anything for.

And it was just like you promised. Your cute little nose wrinkle. Your horribly frustrated glares. Your over dramatic ‘I’m dropping out!’s every fifteen minutes. And it’d been great until you both heard a thunderous snap of a wooden fence and the wildest, most murderous howling he’d ever heard.

You’d both bolted for the door, scrambling to get through the gates into the back. There’d been a moment of calm. Another beat. Another. And…you both had stumbled around the corner to find the next door neighbour’s dog, broken chain, trying to kill one of the kennel’s dogs.

There had been no moment’s hesitation on Spencer’s part. He’d stupidly rushed forward, lodged his hand between the neighbour’s mutt and the sweetest dog he’d ever met. He’d yanked her free from the mutt’s jaws, only to find his own wrist dragging along the teeth.

(He realised later that he’d always had a propensity to run head first into danger. No calculations needed.)

There’d been two beats for the dog to process it’s chew toy was in Spencer’s arms. To process that Spencer made a better victim. That Spencer’s throat and limbs were softer and easier to tear. Thankfully, he’d scrambled back enough that when the dog launched, it didn’t catch flesh. It chomped on air. Less than three inches from him.

Fangs. Tightened lips. Black gums. Slobber.

The mutt could be equated to Stephen King’s The Sun Dog. Always hesitant to process his trauma, it’s the one book—gifted by you during a Halloween birthday for him—that sits untouched on his bookshelves. There’s too much of you in the inscription in the cover. Too much of that horrible mutt in the pages.

The next part of the night blurred in his memories. In his near perfect memory, it blurred. Trauma, right?

You’d screamed. You were in front of him. You had the dog’s chain in your hands. He was running. The dog was heavy in his arms. His arm stung. You were screaming. He should’ve gone back.

Five god-awful minutes later, you’d come into the house. Limping. Clutching onto your arm. You’d taken one look at Spencer running his wrist under the tap and forgotten about your own injuries. Despite the blood dripping off your arm. Or the quiet yelp every time you stretched. You’d barely taken ‘I’m fine, you’re the one bleeding’ as a reason to not bandage him up first.

The only thing that calmed down the dream every time he had it was the memory of holding your hand while you got stitches. How your face pinched with the pain. How you’d said, ‘next time, it’s your turn to take the bullet.’ How he’d smiled and promised.

Spencer watches the clock tick by and decides it’s too late to go back to sleep. Hotch’ll be up in an hour. No need to delay his start. Women were dying. Women you would’ve been friends with.

“Okay, crime-fighters, I found our connection,” Garcia chirps over the speaker phone. “All of our victims attended very specialised dog training courses at a facility just outside of DC. The owner said they’d send in one of their trainers to talk to you. Should be there anytime now.”

“What kind of specialised training?” Emily asks. Spencer feels like he should be contributing, should be processing any of this, but his head is pounding. He doesn’t have a hangover, but god does it feel like it.

Garcia hums as she types. “It’s a military facility. Awww, they’ve got puppy pictures on their website!”

“Garcia—“

“Right, right. It’s a top notch facility and oh! A bunch of the FBI dogs graduate from there. I wonder if they get little caps and gowns and—“

“Hey, baby girl, the trainer’s here. We gotta run,” Morgan interrupts, though he’s all smiles to stare at whomever is plaguing his interest.

There’s another squeal of please get puppy pictures before the call cuts and Spencer finally has the self preservation to look. And god does he look.

15 years has made no difference on your skin and he can’t believe he’s not staring at you from across a lecture hall. The only indication you’ve changed is the nervous smile you’ve plastered on and the dog at your side. Every fun fact about german shepherds instantly crosses his mind and he can’t help but drop his jaw a little further.

It sinks to the floor when you spot him and wave. You wave. At him. In front of coworkers.

He’s out of his seat before he can stop himself. That easy smile reserved for movie nights falls back into place on your lips. Twinkles in your eyes. 15 years haven’t passed. Maybe he needs to check for pimples again.

“Y/n,” he croaks and the same time his name leaves your lips. The dog at your side stands and you correct the gesture with a harsh word in what he’s sure is German.

“FBI, huh?” Your eyes trail over every inch of him, crossing your arms in a relaxed, familiar kind of way. “I expected more math, Mr. I Like Derivatives.”

“The shepherd there doesn’t look like finance either, y/n,” he teases back like no time has passed. Like he doesn’t immediately feel incredibly guilty for ditching you for the academy.

“Oh come on,” you huff, “you really think that I was cut out for an office job? I lasted six months.”

And before he can warn you, even think about warning you about the team that’s slowly creeping up behind him, they are all suddenly there. Very keen on knowing the ins and outs of how you know Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, you gonna introduce us?” Morgan smirks, clapping a painful hand on Spencer’s shoulder. You busy yourself with petting the dog at your hip, looking everywhere but Morgan’s insistent gaze.

“Guys, this is my friend y/n from college.”

JJ raises an eyebrow at the lack of explanation, but plows ahead with introductions. Takes charge of guiding you to an interview room. Gets through the entire interview without once asking about your relationship with him.

Morgan watches Spencer rubbing the scars and makes the leap. “You okay, kid?”

Spencer breaks from staring at your face as you talk about getting your start in Germany—Germany—and swallows. This was fine. It’s okay to tell his friend—his brother—about the story he’s never really talked about.

“I stupidly put myself in the middle of a dog fight,” Spencer grits out, flexing and un-flexing his fingers. Every scar burns and he can’t help but stare at your smile again. “Y/n saved my life. She choked out the dog, Morgan, before he got a hold of me. Left the hospital with 12 stitches.”

“Oh,” was his all too helpful response. They both turned back to the interview. How everything jovial about your entire countenance shifted once JJ started mentioning the victims.

“Look, Agent Jareau,” you say, leaning dangerously far away from the conversation, “They are—they were really smart women with some dangerous dogs. I don’t know—I just—there’s a lot of sickos out there.”

Every profiler within a 20 mile radius can hear the change in tone, can hear the fear. Spencer knows a lot can change in 15 years, but he thought for sure you’d never become a serial killer. He doesn’t know if it’s all his years in the bureau or if he’s still too attached to you, but you don’t seem like the killer. Not like JJ seems to think so. Sure, you’re terrified, but the dog you have is nosing your arm. Giving you big ole puppy eyes. Spencer doesn’t think a serial killer can pour that much into a relationship with an animal.

“What do you mean?” JJ clocks the movement and switches to a maternal type of body language, tone. “Is there something going on?”

Your hand pauses on the dog’s head, and it noses your hand into action. “I, uh, just got a weird letter two weeks ago. It wasn’t—it was just weird. Off-putting.”

“Right before the first victim,” Spencer mutters. Weird letters indicated stalking. Victims with you as a central point meant stalking. Stalking meant you were probably next. Oh, god, you were next.

JJ stretched a hand across the table and took yours. “You’ll get through this. You’ll get through this, y/n.”

Spencer didn’t know what to do with his hands. It was so much worse than normal. Should he stand? But what should he do with his hands because crossing them seemed too defensive? Or should he just sit down? But where? And was that rude?

Instead, he just took the cup of tea you offered and followed you like a lost puppy. Granted, it was your house and he was definitely lost. He also felt vaguely at home—there were a decent amount of bookshelves by his standards and even more mismatched furniture than he had. The house was well cared for and when you sat him down on your couch, you swept away a stack of training manuals, all sporting worn covers.

Was it wrong to feel like he was settling onto your old apartment couch for movie nights?

You puff out a breath of air and lean your head dramatically into the back of the couch. “So, since you’re my FBI escort, is it wrong to ask if you still like cheesy 90s movies?”

He shakes his head. Grins. “You still have Legally Blonde?”

You just giggle as you head for a stack of movies. You strike up some conversation as you rummage and he knows he’s hooked all over again. It’s going to take weeks to get over you again. It’d taken months the last time, and he feels slightly less attached this time. But did he really think it would take more than a simple question about the latest thing he’s read? He wishes he knew you better, just as well as you seem to still know him.

Though by the end of the movie, you’ve both returned to your college days. Practically curled into each other’s side. You still have horrible commentary about the movie, peppered in with Spencer’s annoying movie trivia. If it was anyone else, he figures, he would’ve been kicked out long ago.

You still distinctly smell of vanilla, flailing the scent around as you move closer and further and closer again. You wear enthusiasm with your whole body and if you aren’t turning rapidly between facing Spencer and the movie, how could you possibly begin to explain correctly?

Your shoulder keeps a constant pressure against his, your knees half over his thigh. There’s too many instances of hollering and laughing that you grab onto his knee to steady yourself. If this hadn’t been a protective detail, he might’ve lost his mind.

Thank god for focus. Work. Work. Work. Not your hands on his knee. Definitely not your smile as you declare your affection for scented resume stationary. Totally not how hot it’s getting under your too affectionate gaze.

“Spence, I really missed this,” you whisper, nudging your shoulder with his. “I know it’s weird to be thrown together after 15 years, but I—I missed you.”

“I—“ missed you too; fell in love with you in college; think I love you now.

But there’s no time for heartfelt declarations when someone’s incessantly banging on the door. Spencer’s got half a mind to get the door for you, holster his gun, focus on keeping you safe. The banging doesn’t soften as he calls out that he’s on his way. If anything it gets worse.

And it should’ve been the first red flag of the night.

Spencer opens the door and thinks very loudly, “why the fuck do I always run headfirst into danger?”

Their un-sub, a buzzcut that looks more Army that not, shakes a pistol at Spencer and demands to be let inside. There’s only so many ways to defuse the situation, so he back ups, tucks you behind him. Their un-sub winds a little tighter, shaking like one of those monkeys with cymbals.

“McLaggen?” you whimper behind Spencer and the Army man fires a shot into the floor. You grip tighter onto Spencer’s shirt, digging in your fingers dangerously close to his skin.

The buzzcut is red, boiling over with rage, words bubbling out of his throat. “Y/n, I just can’t stand to see you with them. You never notice me. You’re always working, so I thought I’d get your attention. Cut the competition. I just—you mean so much to me, y/n. You mean too much.”

Spencer is sure he won’t remember this day accurately as he pushes you just a little further behind him. He’s about to do something so incredibly stupid. Dear lord, why the fuck is he like this? And he lunges.

The gun’s trapped in both of their hands. There’s one more bullet fired—at the ground he’s sure. There’s a squeak of fear. Just enough of a distraction. One more ounce of weight thrown around. One more lasting punch. McLaggen lands on the floor. The gun skitters away. McLaggen groans as he’s handcuffed.

You gasp and he realises immediately that he’s bleeding. That he’s on the floor. That there is a bullet lodged in his thigh. Again.

One string of swears later, you’re on the phone with 911. Yes, he’s shot. Yes, there’s another in handcuffs. No, I’m not a whore, send the damn ambulance.

You take his hand as he lays there, much like he did in the hospital 15 years ago. Unlike then, you’ve got tears pricking at your eyes. You’re sniffling like a school girl, and he’s not sure if you’ve said that aloud.

“Spencer!” You wipe a stray tear. Squeeze his hand too tightly. “Why the hell, you freakin’ moron, did you take a bullet for me?”

He laughs, bubbling up out of his chest before he can stop it. You are too pretty to be this upset at his laughter. You are too lovely to be worried about him. To still be worried, like nothing has changed one bit.

Every inch of him is trembling. Blood loss and bullets are bitches.

“Y/n,” he wheezes through dry lungs and more leg pain than he remembers there being, “I promised.”

You blink your eyes. What the hell are you talking about, Spencer Reid, you absolute idiot?

“I promised I’d take the next bullet. In the hospital.” He grins, groans as he moves to drag you into a hug. “I’m a man of my word, y/n, and I promise that if I keep the leg, we’re going out. Properly.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you grumble into his ear and squeeze his neck tighter. If the paramedics don’t bother to pull you off, who’s to say you won’t stay like that forever? Attached to the loveable, danger prone idiot, who traded dog bites for bullet holes?

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #reid x y/n #please i beg of you be gentle

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nettlestonenell · 3 years ago

Photo

(above, an unpopular opinion?--if so, the first of many)

The King: Eternal Monarch Catches Plenty of Hate Online Why That Is, And Why You Should Ignore It Part I

(to be posted in several parts, spoilers possible, but will be limited)

Subjects of the Kingdom, Citizens of the Republic, and (as always) Gentle Readers:

If you’ve spent any amount of time searching The King: Eternal Monarch, Lee Min Ho, Kim Go Eun, or various other adjacent topics online since 2020, the fact that Kdrama The King: Eternal Monarch is more likely to be associated with negative coverage rather than positive, is far from news to you.

Just the other day, @dumbassdictionarysds popped into my DMs and asked if I might have a post in me to explain what I thought the roots of this heated rejection of the show might be.

“I was thinking of making a video on TKEM and its criticisms and why people didn't like it and why I liked it,” they wrote, “I would really appreciate if you could give some insight into what common criticisms you saw and what you thought of them.”

It should come as no surprise at this point that, as someone showed up wanting to talk about--and hear about--TKEM that my responding was an absolute no-brainer, and a welcome moment of elation.

As we dive in, let me give two (sorta three) shout-outs to places I’ve read meta for TKEM, whose thoughts on the matter and the show have no doubt helped shaped my own opinions and understanding of it: bitchesoverdramas.com and thefangirlverdict.com, with a nod to TKEM’s Wikipedia page as well. For the record (because it seems it might prove germane here) I am neither Korean nor have I/do I live in Korea (nor the Kingdom of Corea, for that matter).

Okay. Many people (perhaps most people?—at least online fan people) really, really have issues with TKEM. Writer Kim Eun Sook’s shows, while generally well received by fandom and critics, are no strangers to occasional controversy-- particularly of her two most recent dramas available through Netflix, Mr. Sunshine and The King: Eternal Monarch.

Research seems to show that KES tends toward being something of a polarizing figure in fandom. Those that love her don’t just love her a little, but will die on this hill, and those who dislike what she does can really, really, REALLY, not stand it (and are also ready to die on that hill).

That’s a lot of people camped out, ready to die on their respective hills. For every person that thinks Goblin is the greatest kdrama ever filmed, there is a person ready and waiting to dismember Heirs’ Kim Tan.

No one should be surprised that KES’ new show would prove polarizing.

So let’s get down to business. Why all the hate?

Expectations Deliberately and Consistently Subverted

Was this Lee Min Ho’s Regarding Henry-moment?

WRT TKEM, let’s start with the elephant/top star in the room: stratospheric Hallyu star Lee Min Ho’s return to viewers’ screens following his two year absence due to mandatory military service (and removal from public life).

There is a weight added, then, to fans’ expectations for the show. It’s not just LMH’s next project, it becomes his MOST IMPORTANT project, his ONLY new project. (Since 2016′s The Legend of the Blue Sea, I believe).

Don’t ask me to react to this photo. I’ve been processing its existence for months now, no conclusions to share yet in sight.

These are fans of Boys Over Flowers’ Goo Joon Pyo, of Heirs’ (also by KES) Kim Tan. These are die-hard viewers who know how they like to consume their LMH on-screen. But KES (and LMH, b/c he’s actually spoken directly to this) aren’t interested in handing out on-brand LMH anymore. Therefore, his Corean King/Emperor Lee Gon is much more in line with the mature, controlled, focused and kind Joseon magistrate Dam Ryeong (from The Legend of the Blue Sea) than the out-of-touch disaster boy chaebols like GJP and KT that rocketed him to global stardom and notoriety.

For instance, TKEM has its hero Lee Gon (LMH) experiencing an epiphany moment of actually understanding and feeling deep empathy for what the female lead is going through—an understanding and an emotion that that utterly evades both GJP and KT (and let’s face it, the majority of kdrama male leads) throughout their entire series.

Do people perhaps hate on LMH in TKEM just as they hated Harrison Ford’s attempt in Regarding Henry to choose projects that artistically interested and challenged him but were found NOT to interest movie goers that rather wanted to see (what they expected from) “a Harrison Ford film”? Is it that viewers wanted to watch (what they expected from) a LMH kdrama?

Had the character of Lee Gon been written and performed as more of a GJP-role would the show’s reception have been more robust and less controversial?

Thankfully, for this viewer, we’ll never have to know.

You cannot truly address LMH’s return to screens without bringing up TKEM episode one, and the way the writing chose to handle what surely had been incredibly hyped in Korean media (LMH’s return).

Does LMH storm the screen in the first moments, triumphant? Is his face the first thing we see? Not even close. The show begins in a muddle for viewers, not sure where we are or what’s going on. And then it…doesn’t do much to clear that up. [more on that in a later section]

Essentially, the show begins in a police interrogation room, during a scene that actually takes place in the penultimate episode of the show. It then proceeds to a seminal event that happened 25 years BEFORE the main timeframe the show operates in.

Neither of these things involve a visible LMH. IN FACT, it is more than 37 minutes into the first episode before he’s acting on-screen. [Yes, I know he’s shown in a 10 second lightning flash right before the show’s 4 minute mark—but that’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, and barely even counts as an amuse-bouche.]

When we do see LMH as the grown Lee Gon (a child actor having portrayed him for the prior 37 minutes), if a viewer is holding entitled golden boys GJP and KT in their mind, it changes their potential reading of Lee Gon’s entire introduction to us as king. The humorous sniping between him and Court Lady Noh over getting married and producing an heir might take on a (misinterpreted) nasty edge, if one is predisposed to expect LMH to portray an temper-tantrum-throwing male character of great wealth whose character arc is to redeem him from his bratty nature through finding the love of an average good woman [Hint: that’s not at all what’s going on here.]--if that’s what a viewer showed up for, they’re going to have those expectations disappointed. And if they can’t shed them, they are going to hate this show.

...to be continued in Part II “Subtitles? More like Sub-par-titles“

#the king eternal monarch #the king: eternal monarch #tkem #lee min ho #kdrama netflix #netflix kdrama #kim eun sook #dumbassdictionarysds #kdrama #more like okay: drama!#tkem meta

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niedopalek · 3 years ago

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MYTHOLOGICAL In populations across North Eurasia, from Indo-European groups in the far west to the Chukchi in the far east, as well as in the Americas, two styles of myth can be found with striking consistency; an "Earth Diver" creation myth, and a myth in which a monstrous dog guards the underworld, where getting past it acts a test for deceased souls.

The "Earth Diver" myth generally follows a plot where some animal/being is sent to dive to the bottom of the primordial ocean to collect a small amount of sand or mud, from which a supreme creator deity constructs the first dry land. This story, with minor variations, is found in the mythos of Northeast Asian, Siberian, and Eastern European populations such as the Samoyedic peoples, Turkic peoples, the Buryats, the Ainu, Chukchi, Yukaghir, Slavs, Lithuanians¹²³⁴, etc, as well as Native American groups; Blackfoot, Arapaho, Athabaskans, Cayuga, Nipmuc, Ojibway, Potawatomi, Mohawk⁵, etc.

The Afterlife-Dog-Guardian myth is found throughout Indo-European cultures; you are most likely familiar with Cerberus from Greek mythology. It's also found among the Chukchi and Tungusic peoples. There's remains of dogs that appear to have been ritualistically slaughtered at Mesolithic sites in Siberia, which may be related to this myth. In North America, the mythos of Siouan, Algonquian, and Iroquoian peoples also generally feature a fierce dog guarding the path to the afterlife; however, in their myths, the path is the Milky Way in the sky, rather than the underworld⁶.

Now, if this consistent continuum of distribution wasn't convincing enough, there's now also archaeogenetic evidence that further implies these two myths have a common origin (which would make them among the oldest reconstructable stories we know of.) Genetic analysis infers the existence of a Paleolithic/Mesolithic grouping of people in North Eurasia aptly known as the Ancient North Eurasians. The thread that defines the ANE is close relation to the 24,000 year old Mal'ta Boy remains from the Lake Baikal region⁷. The Ancient North Eurasians were an extremely prolific and important population; to the East, they've contributed ancestry to modern Siberian populations (and to a lesser extent, East Asians), and a large amount to Native Americans; 40-50% of Native American DNA is ANE in origin⁷. To the west, they mixed with various West Eurasian hunter-gatherers to form Mesolithic lineages such as the Caucasus Hunter Gatherers, Eastern European Hunter Gatherers, West Siberian Hunter Gatherers, and Scandinavian Hunter Gatherers. Proto-Indo-Europeans descended from a mixture of Eastern European Hunter Gatherers (70-75% ANE, 30-25% Western European Hunter Gatherer) and Caucasus Hunter Gatherers⁸ (45-62% Dzudzuana/Archaic Caucasus HG, 55-38% ANE⁹). This shared ancestry lends credence to the idea that this pattern of myths could have a common origin in North Asia predating the migration of people to the Americas.

Furthermore, very recent research (a few months ago) suggests that the domestication of the dog occurred in Siberia around 23,000 years ago, where, from there, they spread throughout Eurasia and into the Americas; the people responsible for the domestication are identified in the initial study as "Ancient North Siberians"¹⁰ , though they were described as being associated with the Mal'ta remains and are thus synonymous with Ancient North Eurasians. Not necessarily strong evidence in its own right that the Afterlife Dog myth comes from them, but I definitely think it's worth mentioning. There's also rituals consistently associating dogs with healing and protection through their perceived ability to absorb illness found in ANE-descended populations such as the Hittites, ancient Greeks, ancient Italics, Turkic peoples, Babylonians (Mesopotamia is adjacent to where Neolithic Iranians lived, who also had a large amount of ANE ancestry), and possibly the ancient Botai culture⁶.

(And just as a fun fact, blonde hair among West Eurasians is believed to have originated with the ANE; the earliest person known to have been genetically predisposed to blonde hair was the ~17,000 year old ANE-descended Afontova Gora 3 girl from central Siberia.)

CULTURAL

Broadly similar religious practices that can be described as shamanism are mostly distributed among East Asians (especially Siberians) and, quite famously, Native Americans¹². Uralic peoples, who ultimately originate from east Siberia¹³, brought it to Europe. The fact that shamanism is found in many different East Asian populations, including ones with little ANE ancestry in southern China, east India, and Southeast Asia, but is/was essentially absent in West Eurasia (as far as we know), suggests that the practice has an ancient East Asian origin, and that Native Americans picked it up from their East Asian ancestral component (40-50% of their DNA from ANE, 60-50% from Ancient East Asian)

Of course, shamanistic practices are also present in cultures from Sub Saharan Africa, and among Australian Aboriginals, so as a whole the concept obviously emerged multiple times, but the particularly strong concentration of it among the deeply related peoples of East Asia, Siberia, and Native America might indicate that theirs does have some sort of common heritage.

LINGUISTIC

In 2010, linguist Edward Vadja published The Dene–Yeniseian Connection, the culmination of years of his research, wherein he proposes that the Yeniseian language family of Central Siberia, and the Na-Dene language family of North America (which includes such languages as Navajo and Apache), are related¹⁴. This paper was actually well received by a number of respected linguists, the first theory connecting Old World and New World languages to receive this treatment. In a 2012 presentation, Vadja bolstered his theory with further comparative linguistic evidence, as well as non-linguistic evidence; the most compelling example of the latter being the fact that haplogroup Q1, which is very common throughout indigenous populations of the Americas , is found at a rate of nearly 90% among the Yeniseian Ket people (and at a rate of 65% in their neighbors, the Samoyedic-speaking Selkup, who have long intermixed with Yeniseians.) The Navajo have this haplogroup at a rate of 92%. The Ket people also have among the highest amount of ANE-derived ancestry out of any modern day population, similar to Native Americans¹⁵.

A possible scenario explaining the proliferation of the family: when the ancestors of most other Native Americans migrated over into the New World, a subset of them remained behind in Beringia for several millennia. Eventually, as Beringia began to flood ~10,000 years ago, the group split, with some going back into Asia to become the Yeniseians while others finally moved into America to become the Na-Dene. While this is certainly much older than the dating for most other established language families, it is not implausible; Proto-Afro-Asiatic, for example, is routinely dated to well over 10,000 years ago. However, Vadja himself postulated that Na-Dene might have arrived in America through a distinct migration which postdated the initial peopling of the continents.¹⁶

Today, Dene-Yeniseian is still not a universally accepted, firmly established language family, but its not widely rejected either; it remains an open, favorable possibility while further research is done. For the sake of fairness, here is an example of a critical review which doubts the theory as Vadja proposed it: http://www2.hawaii.edu/~lylecamp/Campbell%20Yeniseian%20NaDene%20review%2011-2-10.pdf

SOURCES

Sacred narrative, readings in the theory of myth, Alan Dundes, page 168-70

Earth-Diver Myth (А812) in northern Eurasia and North America: twenty years later, Vladimir Napolskikh

A Dictionary of Asian Mythology, David Adams Leeming, page 55

The Motifs of creating the world in the Lithuanian narrative folklore, Nijolė Laurinkienė

http://www.native-languages.org/earthdiver.html

Tracing the Indo-Europeans: New evidence from archaeology and historical linguistics, David W. Anthony & Dorcas R. Brown, page 104-105

Upper Palaeolithic Siberian Genome Reveals Dual Ancestry of Native Americans, Pontus Skoglund & Maanasa Raghavan

Archaeology, Genetics, and Language in the Steppes: A Comment on Bomhard, David Anthony

Paleolithic DNA from the Caucasus reveals core of West Eurasian ancestry, Josif Lazaridis, Anna Belfer-Cohen, Swapan Mallick, Nick Patterson, Olivia Cheronet,Nadin Rohland Guy Bar-Oz, Ofer Bar-Yosef, Nino Jakeli, Eliso Kvavadze, David Lordkipanidze, Zinovi Matzkevich, Tengiz Meshveliani, Brendan J. Culleton, Douglas J. Kennett, Ron Pinhasi, David Reich

Dog domestication and the dual dispersal of people and dogs into the Americas, Angela R. Perri , Tatiana R. Feuerborn, Laurent A. F. Frantz, Greger Larson , Ripan S. Malhi, David J. Meltzer, Kelsey E. Witt

The genomic history of southeastern Europe, David Reich + many many more names

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/0c/Map_of_Shamanism_across_the_world.svg

The Arrival of Siberian Ancestry Connecting the Eastern Baltic to Uralic Speakers Further East, Lehti Saag

Reviewed Work: The Dene–Yeniseian Connection by James Kari and Ben A. Potter

Genomic study of the Ket: a Paleo-Eskimo-related ethnic group with significant ancient North Eurasian ancestry, Pavel Flegontov

DENE-YENISEIAN LANGUAGE FAMILY: EVIDENCE FOR A BACK-MIGRATION TO THE OLD WORLD? German Dziebel

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