#drunken master ii

[boardsdonthitback]

Jackie Chan, Lau Kar Leung - Drunken Master II (1994)

[mad-prophet-of-the-airwaves]

Drunken Master II (1994, Lau Kar-leung, Hong Kong)

[rookie-critic]

Rookie-Critic's Film Review Weekend Wrap-Up - Week of 5/1-5/7/2023

Somewhere in Queens (2023, dir. Ray Romano) This was way better than it had any right to be. I'm not sure what I was expecting from a Ray Romano-directed picture, but for some reason it wasn't this. Just an unendingly sweet little slice-of-life film that analyzes the dynamics of a very messy, but loving family. Romano, who also stars in the film as the lead, plays Leonard, a man who's always late, generally says the wrong thing most of the time, and is just kind of awkward, but he loves his son Sticks (yes, that's a nickname), and he supports him with everything he's got, to a degree of fault, really. Romano isn't afraid to push his characters' faults into the spotlight, and he never tries to excuse them, but he also never loses sight of the fact their hearts are always in the right place. Laurie Metcalf also stuns as Leonard's wife Angela, a cancer survivor and a mother who's jealous of her son's secret girlfriend. The movie is basically a 1 hour and 46 minute, R-rated episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, but honestly I'm not complaining. The format difference allows Romano to explore his characters with a little more depth than a 22-24 minute TV episode would have allowed, and it breaths life into everyone on screen. I was super impressed with Somewhere in Queens, and I actually find myself looking forward to whatever Ray Romano decides to direct next, which is not a sentence I ever thought I'd hear myself say.

Score: 9/10

Currently only in theaters.

Police Story 3: Supercop (1992, dir. Stanley Tong) I have always been a fan of Jackie Chan, having grown up in his heyday in the States, but my fondness for the actor has never extended past his popular American films like the Rush Hour or Shanghai Noon/Knights series of films. I've always known about to slew of Hong Kong action comedies he starred in prior to breaking out over here, but I've just never made the time to watch them. So, I was more than happy to oblige when my older brother wanted to come over to my place and do a double-feature night with this and Drunken Master II (or Legend of the Drunken Master, depending on who you ask). This also doubles as one of Michelle Yeoh's earliest starring roles in a film, so I was doubly interested in watching this. Needless to say it is amazing. The story is decent enough, a police detective (Chan's Ka Kui Chan) is tasked with traveling to mainland China and pairing up with an Interpol agent (Yeoh's Chien Hua Yang) to take down a drug kingpin. Sounds pretty basic, and the nature of the story allows for a lot of Jackie Chan-style hijinks to ensue, but the real meat of what makes Supercop so incredible are the stunts. The things that Jackie Chan does in this movie make Tom Cruise look like a toddler playing in a sandbox. One stunt in particular was so unreal we thought there was no way he was doing it without a harness (turns out he absolutely was doing it without a harness). I won't spoil any of it for you (even though I'm the one who's late to the party here) because, if you haven't seen this, you must. It is one of the most incredible stunt spectacles I've ever seen put to film, and hands down the most impressed I've ever been with a Jackie Chan film, and that was already a pretty high bar.

Score: 9/10

Currently streaming on The Criterion Channel.

Drunken Master II (1994, dir. Lau Kar-leung) I've always heard that this is one of the, if not the, best Jackie Chan movies there is, and it's easy to see why that's the consensus. The hand-to-hand fighting choreography is, without question, the best I've ever seen. The final fight sequence (or series of fight sequences) alone, which takes up the last 20 minutes of the film's runtime, is an absolute wonder to behold. There were things I was seeing in this film that I didn't think was possible to do with the human body that put my jaw firmly on the ground. However, the film as a whole definitely has its weak moments and parts that drag, and a surprising amount of melodrama that I was probably being played for laughs, but it just wasn't landing with me. Which isn't to say that the film isn't funny, most of the physical comedy bits land, which isn't uncommon for a Jackie Chan vehicle, there were just a handful of moments that felt like they were trying too hard. Overall it's just a more uneven viewing experience than Supercop was, but its strengths more than make up for any of the film's detriments.

Score: 7/10

Currently available to rent/purchase on digital (iTunes, Amazon, Vudu, etc.) and on Blu-ray & DVD through Warner Bros.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (2023, dir. James Gunn) I won't belabor the point on this one too much as my full review was posted literally yesterday, but I was left deeply emotionally affected by this by the time the credits ran. I thought that almost everything about it just worked, barring an under-use of the Adam Warlock character, and the decision to make Rocket the focal point of this film's story was a stroke of genius on the part of writer/director James Gunn. Maybe I'm the lone wolf on how much I loved this because of my bias towards these characters, but I think Gunn knocked it straight out of the park and into the next galaxy with this. It's a wonderful film about finding the strength in your flaws and imperfections and the power of moving forward.

Score: 9/10

Only in theaters. You can read my full review of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 here.

Carmen (2023, dir. Benjamin Millepied) By all accounts, this is not my kind of movie in the slightest. I've heard of the opera, but other than that I couldn't tell you one thing about the story before a few hours ago (I got home from the theater about 4 hours prior to writing this). The story is pretty basic and it definitely takes a "style over substance" approach to its visual storytelling, both things I tend to not be a fan of, but against all odds I have to say I did enjoy my time with Carmen. For one, I love both Melissa Barrera and Paul Mescal and they both kill it in their respective roles, even if I thought their romance moved way too fast to be truly believable. The dance numbers, while sometimes hard to follow the symbolism of, were wonderful. I was impressed with both Barrera's dance ability and voice, and Mescal, for what little dancing he does in the film, is better than you would think he would be. Where I think the film fails is in its message. It does seem like it touches on a lot of things that could have been really interesting (the central romance is between a white "all-American" veteran who clearly, regardless of his own beliefs, comes from a background of racism towards Hispanic people, and an undocumented immigrant), but it never really goes beneath the surface of any of its themes. There are also a handful of loose ploit threads that just kind of irked me. In a movie filled to the brim with extended interpretive dance numbers, they could have devoted at least a few seconds to throwaway line explaining some things and providing a little more context to Carmen's situation. It just seemed like there was a large section of the story that we just didn't get to see and, frankly, it felt like the filmmakers forgot about it, as well. Taking all of that into account, though, I still was drawn into the world of Carmen. I can't fully explain why I think that is, but something about it just grabbed me. I'm not sure I could tell you the greater purpose of everything Carmen throws at you in its 2 hour stay onscreen, but I can tell you that I was mesmerized by most of it, and that's gotta count for something.

Score: 7/10

Currently only in theaters.

[nouketou]

From Daeron II to Aegon V

-> a little Dreamfyre at the bottom of the family tree

-> I tried to have the dornish a look close to the people of Spain during the Al-Andalus period

-> at that point in the timeline, the Targaryens tend to follow westerosi fashion, highborn ladies wearing "modest" headpieces (headdress, hair nets, crown braid), similar to European medieval era, reflecting the weight of the Faith of the Seven

-> men tend to wear simpler fashion and jewelry too, donning an earring here and there but nothing extravagant (except Aerion)

-> Aegon V's attire reflects his reign and his will to bring back the Targaryen to their past glory (ending badly in Summerhall) and so his look and Betha Blackwood's are more "Targaryen" coded, this wish is/was also followed in a way by his siblings, Aerion and Rhea

-> a hammer and an anvil to symbolize the roles of Baelor and Maker during the Blackfyre rebellions

[writebackatya]

💬

Drunk Della Duck was the Number One Reason why I wanted to write I Think We’re Alone Now! and she’s not even the main character of the story

In my humble opinion, I don’t believe anyone who says “Oh I wasn’t myself when I said/did that last night because I was drunk” because that person is either lying to you or themselves. To me, a drunk person is just themselves unhinged

Honestly I could’ve put the whole entire bathroom scene, Della Duck singing Why Should I Worry? was the thing that made me go “Well now I have to write this story!” when I first thought of this fic and now I listen to that song pretty much weekly. I rewatched Oliver & Company because of that scene and honestly? C+ on a good day

Anyway, I just love Della’s role in this story. She’s a supportive duck and I love capturing that side of her. I mean she is out there getting drinks with friends and she’s mainly doing it so she can catch up Selene after what happened in New Gods on the Block! and showing Penumbra some Earth fun; and frankly, I think all three of them deserve to have a fun night

I’m honestly not one who goes out drinking that often. Usually other people I know suggest to do it; family, friends, coworkers, etc. I’m honestly more of a social drinker (yeah I’m definitely more of a pothead; surprise, surprise). But one thing I’ve seen plenty of times when I went out is just how awesome women are when it comes to helping out other women. I’ve seen my sisters and friend act quickly in situations when they see another woman who looks like she’s stuck in a situation she wouldn’t want to be a part of among drunk people. And to me Della is definitely that type of person

She doesn’t know Gandra or the situation she’s in but shes more than willing to help out and fight her.

She’s still in adventure mode but she’s clearly not at her best, but that still doesn’t mean her skills and intelligence should be underestimated

And yeah, one time when I was drunk at a club with some friends, I went to the bathroom and after I was done drying my hands I threw the balled up paper towels into a trash can and it went in and I said “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!!” No one else was in the bathroom though. Hell, I even do that when I’m sober

Della yelling at the random woman is up there with favorite things I’ve ever made Della say in my fanfics

And this scene from Gandra’s point of view is just great. Caught with the enemy by the most obnoxious member of FOWL and her only ally in this mess is the Duck that got stuck on the moon for a decade

[lokis-army-77]

Hi 👋

I had a smut idea about a modern version of Rockstar!Eddie. Corroded Coffin is just taking off so of course Eddie interacts with fans through social media, answering dms and liking fanart. One day Eddie gets a dm from Virgin!Reader, asking him if he can take her virginity. At first Eddie is very unsure about it until he learns more about Reader and agrees. How does that sound?

Xx

Drunken Texts

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Virgin!fem reader

Word Count: 5.6k

You drunkenly DM the Eddie Munson asking him to be your first.

Warning: 18+ I will block you if you are under 18 or have no age in your blog. oral (f & m receiving), p in v, fingering, virginity taking.

Thank you to my beta readers @munson-blurbs, @xxladymjxx, and @emma-munson

AN: I am so sorry this took so long! I started my masters program and have kinda been in a slump lately, but I am so happy that I finished this for you @randomreader1999 I was determined bc you have read and liked literally everything I have ever posted and I love you!

Masterlist

Eddie scrolled through his DMs in the dark of the tour bus. He loved to answer fans, even if his manager told him it wasn’t a good idea. The rockstar life was brand new to him and he couldn’t help wanting to have a relationship with his fans. He knew he would have loved for his idol to message him back when he was once a nobody, so he was only doing what he thought would be great fan service.

It wasn't until he clicked on your message that his heart skipped a beat. 

Hiii Eddie 

I know this iis a weird thing to ask but… woul dyou take my virginity???

His mouth hung open, shocked at what he was seeing. Sitting there, he battled with what he should do. Did he just leave it on read or maybe turn down the poor girl as politely as he knew how? 

Then, he saw that little green dot next to the profile picture and all of a sudden Instagram was telling him you were in the chat. 

He freaked out even more when he saw the bubble appear, signaling you were typing. 

Oh my god!!

Please ignore that 

I wasn't exactly sober when I sent it to you 

Eddie chucked at the speed at which your messages came in. You were definitely freaking out on the other side. So he decided to answer and put you at ease.

It's alright

Mistakes happen, believe me

He watches as your typing bubble appears once more. 

Oh my god, you actually answered me.

I'm going to fucking die

Please don't think I'm a creep, I promise I'm not!! 

I didn’t think you would see that 

Eddie shakes his head, a bemused expression washing over his face. Deciding it was late, he turned his phone off and set it aside. Sleep comes fast. It usually did, not only because Eddie could fall asleep anywhere, any time, but life on a tour bus–performing in a new town almost every night–was exhausting, especially for someone who was still new to the rockstar world.

When Eddie awoke the next morning, the first thing he did was grab his phone. Opening it, he was still in the chat with you. He laughed through his nose softly as he reread your messages. He should have clicked out and gone about his day, but for some reason, he wanted to continue talking with you. 

So, as he climbed from his bunk, he texted you back once more. 

Hey

Hope you didn’t die

…..

The ding from your phone caught your attention, pulling you away from typing on your computer. It was muscle memory that had you reaching for the device and pressing on the notification before even looking to see what it was, too confident it was either your best friend/roommate or your mother who always seems to be in your business. 

But as you look at the message, your eyes widen and your face heats with embarrassment. It was neither your mother nor your roommate… No, it was Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, who had been witness to your most epic blunder. 

“Fuck!” The curse echoes through the apartment. Why is he messaging me? Again? Your heart thuds in your chest. Should you answer him back? Should you just ignore it? You had no clue what to do as your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

“What’s all the yellin’ about?” 

You startle when a voice calls out from the front door. Looking up, you see your roommate, Robin, taking her shoes off. 

“Hey, Rob. I’m actually going to fucking die. Like you need to find a new best friend because I am no longer here.”

She walks into your room and leans on the door frame, eyebrow raised quizzically. “Normally, I’m the dramatic one… What’s happened?”

You can’t help but nervously laugh and rub the back of your neck with a sweaty hand. 

“Oh my god, what did you do? You have that look!” She gasps and points a finger at you.

“What? I don’t have a look.” You defend. 

“Oh, yes, you do. You have this guilty look when you do something bad.” She argues, stepping further into your room. “Tell me what you did or I’ll hit you.” She makes a hard swipe at your shoulder.

Instinctively, you go to hold your assaulted arm. “Ow! What the fuck Rob!”

“Tell me or I’ll do it again.”

“Okay, okay! No need to get violent. Sheesh.” 

Taking a deep breath, you turn in your chair to face her as she sits on the edge of your bed. 

“So remember when we went out drinking the other night and I got all sad drunk on you because I’ve never had sex, let alone been in a relationship?”

She squinted her eyes, trying to determine where you were going with this. 

“And then you told me to just shoot my shot?” Well, drunk me apparently thought DMing my celebrity crush “Take my virginity” was a good fucking idea.”

Robin gasps, hand covering her mouth. “Oh babe, you did not…”

“Oh, wait, it gets worse.” You clap your hands together. “He fucking messaged me back. Twice! He probably thinks I'm a weirdo, maybe a stalker? I can never show my face in public again!”

“Alright, just calm down for a second.” Robin stands from her spot on the bed and stands in front of you with her hand out. “Let me see the damage.”

Reluctantly, you hand her the phone. She’s doing an awful lot of humming while looking at the short yet mortifying conversation. 

“Why do you keep humming like that?” You ask. She's making you nervous. 

She looks over the top of the phone at you and then back down. “I think he’s trying to start a conversation with you. Why else would he respond after seven hours? He actually might be flirting.”

You look at her horrified. “Robin, I highly doubt he is flirting with the crazy nobody who drunk texted him at 2 a.m. on a Saturday. If anything he’s trying to get information on me for a restraining order! I wouldn’t blame him.”

“Babe, you–and I can’t stress this enough–need to take a chill pill. Sure, you asked rising rock sensation Eddie Munson to take you to Pound Town, but the man is into it. He wouldn’t text you again if he wasn’t. If anything, he would have deleted the DM and gone about his day, he probably gets hundreds of texts just like it and there is just something about you that is reeling him in. In my expert opinion-”

“I’m sorry, expert?”

“Yes, expert. Now shut up. I think you should go with it. Text him back, flirt it up, because who knows what could happen? Maybe one day he’ll follow through on your request.” Robin is giving you a manic smile, one that has an idea behind it.

You squint your eyes at her, deciphering what she could be thinking. “Robin. No, don’t you dare.”

She yelps, shocked at the way you grab for your phone. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean, don’t do whatever it is you are thinking of doing!” You stand, reaching for the phone again. That’s when she bolts. “Robin! Come back here!”

“I’m doing you a favor! You’ll thank me later! Trust me!”

You chase after her through the apartment. Your poor downstairs neighbors probably think a herd of horses is running around above them. 

“I really don’t trust you, Rob! Give me the phone!” 

“You’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands!” She screams as she makes a run for her room, slamming the door behind her. You catch up fast, pushing on the door and entering without a problem. She’s nowhere to be seen. 

“Rob? Where are you?” You ask, knowing she can only be in one of two places in the room. She’s either shoved herself under her bed or in the back of her closet. 

So, you stop and listen. You can hear the faintest of tapping sounds as her fingers furiously type away on your phone and it’s coming from under the bed. Diving to the floor, you pull the bed skirt away and see her lying there. 

“Robin, I swear to god, I'm going to kill you. Give me the goddamn phone.” You grab at her ankle and pull. She begins to scream and you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation. 

“Stop! Stop or I swear I’ll send the message!” 

You stop pulling but you don’t let go. 

“How do I know you won’t just send it?”

“You have to trust me.” 

Sighing, you shake your head. “This situation has destroyed my trust in you. Slide me the phone and I’ll let you go.”

“Are you negotiating with me?” The tone in her voice is almost offended.

“Yes, I am negotiating with you. Your life for my phone with an unsent message.”

Robin huffs, “Alright. Deal.” She slides the phone back to you and you let go of her foot, snatching your device off the floor. 

She clambers out from under her bed but you can’t help but see the suspicious-looking face she’s making. 

Hastily, you unlock your phone, and low-and-behold, there is a message from you, or rather Robin, to Eddie Fucking Munson. 

Currently dying as we speak

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!” You jump forward, grab one of her many stuffed animals from her bed, and launch it full speed at her. 

Robin ducks, laughing hysterically as she does so. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, you aren’t!” You throw another plushy. 

She moves to grab what you’ve thrown off the floor and begins pelting them back at you. “You’re right, I’m not! I’m helping your love life!”

Soon, you both calm down, each of you falling flat onto Robin’s bed and laughing. 

“I can not believe you did that.” You nudge her shoulder and she can’t help but giggle. 

“I really am sorry, but where else are you going to get the opportunity to flirt with the guy you’ve liked since before he got famous?”

Huffing, you roll your eyes. “I actually hate that you’re right.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“Unfortunately.” You groan as you stand up and begin to walk back to your room. 

You’re greeted with another ding when you fall back into your desk chair. This time you check the notification. Eddie has messaged back and it has your nerves standing on end. 

Could he really be flirting with you like Robin suggested? Is he like this with every girl who comes crawling into his DMs?

Against your better judgment, you open the message.

If you’re going to die, at least leave me something in your will.

That makes you laugh softly before typing back. 

And what makes you think I’ve got something for you to have?

He answers quickly.

I’m sure you can think of something 

No can do. 

All of my belongings are going to the ole best friend

so you’ll have to take it up with her

Dang, I was really hoping for something to remember you by.

I guess these messages will have to suffice ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You catch yourself biting your lip, a blush blooming on your face. 

Maybe you could think of something for me to give you…

What you were doing was a slippery slope. The ellipsis at the end of the sentence insinuates something less than innocent. You just couldn’t help it, Robin was right, he was flirting with you and obviously, your very forward first message didn’t deter him, so what was the harm in being a little risky? 

The three little dots appear as Eddie types. Then they stop and start again over and over. It makes your stomach flip. Maybe you shouldn’t have been suggestive. 

Oh I might have something

Your heart beat faster.

And what’s that?

I couldn’t help but go through your profile and I’m guessing you live in New York

Are you coming to the CC concert in a few days?

You aren’t too sure what he’s getting at but you answer him anyway.

Tickets were sold out in like five minutes, so unfortunately I’m not coming. 

He’s quick to respond.

Well, we can't have that. 

What if I put you on the VIP list? Would you come?

Are you sure? You don’t have to do that, it’s too much. 

Yes, I’m sure. I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn't.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure of what you should say. ‘No’ would be the best answer, the safe answer but ‘yes’ was exciting and what you wanted to say deep down. After a game of mental tug-of-war, you finally begin to type.

Alright, I’ll be there. 

Great. The VIP entrance is on the north side of the venue, I'll be waiting for you.

……

The Corroded Coffin concert wasn’t for a few hours but with a mix of anxiety and excitement, you had gotten ready and made the long trek to the venue quicker than you thought you would. Luckily there was a tall man, most likely security, standing in front of what Eddie said would be the VIP doors. 

He spots you as you walk closer, his arms crossed and his eyes squint at you with suspicion. Taking a deep breath, he speaks, “Can I help you?”  

“I know I’m early but I should be on the VIP list.” The statement came out sounding more like a question than you had wanted it to. 

“I think you have the wrong place, there’s no VIP for this concert.” 

You turn your head to look back down the street and then back to the man in front of you. “This is the Corroded Coffin venue, isn't it?”

He nods, “Yeah, it is.” 

Before he could continue, theres a ringing that interrupted him. Pulling his phone out he takes a glance at the screen before his eyes snap back to you. “What’s your name?” 

You give it to him and before you can ask what’s happened, he steps back and opens the door. As he waives you inside, he says, “Eddie’s down the hall, to the right, and through the only red door.” 

The area backstage is as grungy as expected with its black-painted cinderblock walls covered in hundreds of stickers and graffiti. The band’s equipment fills the space making the path around it extremely narrow. You squeeze past amps and instruments and step over loose cords on your way to the door where you were told Eddie would be waiting.

It’s easy to find the red door. It sits at the end of the hall one bright light shining overhead, like it’s beckoning you forward, enticing you. 

You can’t help the nerves you feel, your heart pumping faster and faster, the lump in your throat. It all gets worse when you knock on the door and hear a muffled, “Yeah?” 

Taking that as your cue to go in, you open the door slowly. Eddie is sitting there on a black leather couch face buried in his phone. He looks up only slightly before he moves his gaze back down only to do a fast double-take when he realizes who you are. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t think you would be here this early.” He sets his phone down on the arm of the couch before standing and walking toward you. 

“Why? Waiting on another girl to show up before me, trying to worm your way into someone else's will?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head, “No, yours is the only one I’m trying to get written into at the moment.” 

You can’t help the sheepish smile. “Ah, so I’m the only one for now but there will be others.”

“We’ll see,” Eddie winks, moving back to his seat on the couch.

Silence falls between the two of you. Nervously you begin to flit your eyes around the small room, fingers plying with the hem of your shirt. 

“You can sit if you’d like, I won’t bite.” Eddie motions for you to sit beside him and slowly you make your way over. 

Your skirt rides up and the leather of the cushion feels sticky against the backs of your legs, but it doesn’t distract you from how nervous you have become being in direct contact with one of your biggest crushes.  

“You okay?” 

Nodding stiffly, you respond, “Yeah, I’m good.” 

He takes your hand, and the warmth radiating off him makes you feel more at ease. The nervousness slowly dissipates as you get lost in his deep brown eyes. “You seem a bit nervous, I swear I just wanted to hang out with you, no funny business,” he raised his right hand, holding up three fingers, “Scout's honor.”

Laughing, you say, “I believe you! It’s just that you’re you and I’m me.”

“You say that like I’m some kind of celebrity.”

“But you are. And it’s kinda intimidating.”

Edde laughs loudly, “Me? I’m intimidating? What about sweet ol’ me intimidates you?”

You can’t help but giggle, entranced by his liveliness. “I don’t know, probably everything?” You motion up and down at him. 

“Oh come on!”

“No, really!” 

He looks at you, eyebrows raised quizzically. 

“I’m just shy, and you seem to exude confidence.”

“Na, that’s only on stage sweetheart. Think of it as an act.”

The longer the conversation went, the more comfortable you became. Eddie was no longer this scary rockstar sitting before you but a regular charismatic guy. Your posture was no longer rigid as you sat curled up on the couch. Eddie had gotten closer but he was still at a respectful distance. 

You’re pulled from your chat when someone knocks on the door. When it opens, a short blond woman is standing with a clipboard clutched in her hand and her finger pressed to a button on the side of her headset. As she spoke into her mic she waved her clipboard at Eddie, beckoning him to come with her. 

Eddie checks his phone and stands within a second. “Looks like it’s show time. Follow Chris here and she’ll lead you to the barricade. I’ll see you after?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’ll see you when the show’s over!” 

……

The venue isn’t big but it feels like thousands of people are cramped into the tiny space. You’re thankful to be at the barricade where you at least have no one crowded in front of you, even if you are being squished against the metal railing.

The crowd is rowdy, chanting for the band to come out. Their screams only become louder once the lights dim and the squeal of a guitar erupts over the speakers. Your heart is in your throat as you make out the band filing onto the stage in the almost pitch blackness. 

Then, in an instant, the spotlight comes on and Eddie steps forward as he plays the opening riff to their newest song. 

The way his fingers dance across the frets is making you clench your legs. If his fingers could play that fast, what else were they capable of? 

As he begins to strut across the stage, lyrics flow past his lips carried by a deep, sensual tune. His eyes catch yours in the crowd and from that point on, you were entranced. Your eyes never left his. No longer were you surrounded by a crowd, separated by a stage and a metal barrier. No, you were right next to him. You could feel him, his warmth, and the way his breath fanned over your face as he sang. 

The concert went by with you bewitched, like a sailor hearing a siren song. Eddie seduced you with his words and movements until you were almost a puddle on the floor.

Finally, when the lights went down and the crowd filed out, a security guard came to escort you backstage once more. 

The atmosphere had changed from the light-friendly one that had been there hours before. Now the air in the small room was charged. You felt the air crackling as you ended, goosebumps rose on your arms as Eddie greeted you. His eyes were filled with something more than friendliness.

Your tongue felt heavy as you tried to speak and your mouth felt dry even as saliva pooled in response to the sweaty mess that stood in front of you. 

It’s like your body went into autopilot, your mind swirled as you stepped toward Eddie. Your hips swung sensually and once you were close enough to him, you reached a handout and pushed him back onto the couch. 

He landed with a “humph”. His eyes followed you as you slowly fell to your knees. 

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?”

You look up at him though through lidded eyes. “I meant what I said the other night.” Your hands glide up his thighs, fingers barely tracing over the bulge underneath the zipper. “I want you to take my virginity.” 

Eddie catches your hands. “You sure about that? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to.”

Sighing, you lean into his space, “I’m so sure.” 

With nimble fingers, you unhooked the button of his leather pants, the zipper moved down on its own thanks to Eddie’s stiff cock pressing against the tight fabric. 

You can't stop your mouth from salivating when you see he isn’t wearing underwear. He lifts his hips, helping you to pull his pants down. Your eyes widen at how massive he is. Eddie smirks when you look up at him through your lashes. 

“Don’t worry baby, you can take it.” 

You aren’t quite sure you can. He’s intimidating, especially for your first time, but he soothes you with gentle, calloused fingers brushing your cheek, pulling you to him. 

With a quivering lip, you open your mouth, tongue pushing forward–waiting eagerly to taste him. You can’t help the lewd moan that erupts from the depths of your throat once Eddie’s cock is placed on your wet muscle. He’s warm, hot almost, and the bead of white at his slit tastes weird. 

Your eyes meet his when you look up at him, the once-milk chocolate of his irises had turned pitch black as he watched. Slowly you close your lips around him and begin to bob up and down along his length. 

“Oh- oh fuck.” Eddie choked out. His hand flew to the top of your head, harshly tugging on the strands of hair. It sent a delicious sting down your spine and a pulsing throb through your cunt.

You keep going, the whimpering moans erupting from Eddie the only encouragement you needed. His mouth is spewing filthy words, ones that would have any grandmother clutching her pearls, but no, they spur you on, had wetness soaking into your underwear. You were afraid if he didn't stop, you'd cum without having been touched. 

“God damnit, your mouth is so fucking good, Baby. Fuck.” Eddie’s fingers grip tighter and his hips start to tick upward, shoving him further into your throat. You can’t stop the gag that comes at the intrusion. Pulling away a line of spit still connects your mouth to him. You take a moment to breathe, the sight of Eddie's flushed face and dark eyes fueling your desire. He looks down at you, a mixture of awe, concern, and raw need in his expression.

“Fuck, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him once you catch your breath. “I just wasn’t expecting that,” you laugh a little. 

The two of you sit there for a moment, chests heaving and eyes wandering, until Eddie begins to move. He grabs hold of your arm, pulling you up and into him, his lips press to yours and you melt into him. The kiss only lasts for a few seconds before he is trailing down, tongue smoothing over your jaw and he attaches against the soft skin of your neck. The sucking you feel is a weird sensation but not at all unpleasant. 

Goosebumps appear in the wake of Eddie’s fingers as they travel down your arms and to the hem of your shirt. He tugs on it slightly, prompting you to pull away so he can slip the top over your head. Deft fingers work at your bra strap as he starts kissing over your shoulder and chest, stopping to suck and nip where he pleased. 

“Eddie,” you sigh.

He hums in acknowledgment. 

“Need more. Please I need more.” 

Without a word, he breaks away and pushes you onto your back. His hands are hot as they travel over your legs and under the pleats of your skirt. Your breath hitches in your throat when Eddie begins to drag your panties down your legs. 

Embarrassment flushes over you when his eyes lay upon your needy cunt. No one has ever seen you like this, vulnerable with all your most intimate parts on display. You can’t help but shy away, gazing anywhere but at Eddie. 

“Prettiest pussy I've ever seen,” he remarks as he leans closer. His tongue slips past his lips, tasting the wetness gathering at your folds. A primal moan escapes him as he begins to lap at you, drinking you in. His fingers splay over your thighs, pulling you closer as he eats you like a man starved. 

“Oh! Oh fuck-” You can't help the exclamation. The feeling of his wet muscle sliding over your clit in just the right way, at just the right rhythm. Your hands grip at anything they can, trying to keep you from floating away. 

You felt so good. He felt so good. Ecstasy flowed through your veins like rushing rapids, untamed and strong. Zaps of electricity could be felt throughout your body as he ate you up. 

Thick fingers tease at your entrance and your legs instantly snap shut. Eddie uses his other hand to pry your thighs from around his head. “Keep ‘em open sweetheart.”

Your heart fluttered and seized when one of his digits easily slipped into you. You could feel yourself clenching around him, it wasn't enough, you needed more, needed him to stretch you out further.

“Eddie- Eddie please,” you gasp. “More!” 

He hums into your cunt, the vibrations make your back arch off the sticky leather of the couch. Within seconds of your demand, Eddie is slipping a second finger inside you. You can feel the sharp cold from his rings as they come into contact with your hot skin and his thick fingers curling into you. 

All that could be heard in the room were the wet sounds of the rockstar feverishly finger fucking you and the gasping moans you let out every time he licked you just right or his fingers brushed just against a sensitive spot.

Eddie removed himself from your clit with a ‘pop’, the cool air that rushed over the wetness made you shiver. “Look so fuckin’ pretty all splayed out for me, Baby. What do say we kick it up a notch hum?” He asks, voice sickly sweet. 

“Yes, fuck- yes.” You agree, body thrumming with anticipation. 

Slowly, he removed his fingers from you. You blushed as you watched him bring the digits to his mouth, tongue licking the remnants of you off them. “You taste so fucking good. God, I want to be between your legs forever.” 

His words did something to you. Your pulse quickened and your cunt fluttered, emotions went feral inside of you. It took all your energy not to pull him into you at that moment. 

“Fuck me,” you spoke, just above a whisper. 

“What was that, baby?”

“I want you to fuck me, Eddie. Please, I need to feel you inside me, pounding into me. Make it so I feel you for days after I leave, I need it, I want it so bad, please.” It might have sounded desperate but you didn’t care. It was the last thing on your mind. You were so close to having him, you could just taste it and it was driving you crazy.

“Oh yeah? Want my fat fucking cock inside that tight cunt? Stretching you out, ruining you for anybody else? Hum? Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” you beg, “yes, please. Want your cock in me now.”

“Alright, Sweetheart, I’ll give you what you want.”

Eddie’s large hands splayed over your hips, pulling you into the position he wanted. You watched in awe as he brought the angry red tip of his cock to your drooling cunt, gliding it through your folds and pushing it gently inside. 

He was so big, just the tip of him was stretching you farther than you ever had been before. Your hips careened away from him but he held your steady. 

“Not gonna hurt you, just gonna take it slow until I get all the way in,” He spoke gently, soothingly. 

Nodding, you take a deep breath, trying to relax as he pushes into you inch by glorious inch. 

A loud cry sounds in your throat as he bottoms out. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a fierce ache erupts in your abdomen. 

Eddie grunts, pulling back slowly, just an inch before he pushes back inside. The tip of him presses into you, coaxing the fire in your belly. It’s only been a few minutes but you want more, you want it harder, faster, less careful. You wanted to be fucked. You wanted to know what it was like to not be able to walk straight after, wanted to experience life-altering sex with the man of your dreams. 

“More,” you mewl. “More, Eddie, I want more!” 

His hips pick up pace in answer his movements becoming more urgent as he responds to your plea. The room fills with the sounds of your mingled moans and the rhythmic creak of the couch. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, pushing you closer to the edge. You cling to him, lost in the sensation, as he fulfills your deepest desires.

You could feel it, a little tingling in your tummy as he fucked you deep and raw. Something you had never experienced before, not even when you had come by yourself. You were building up fast, causing your body to shake and your toes to curl as you tried to hold it off, but it was no use. You were tipping over the edge within a second. 

“Oh, fuck!” You scream, head flung back into the cushion. Your chest rose in the air and Eddie held you tightly, his thrusts coming short and fast as he worked you into your rapture. “Eddie! I’m- I- I’m- Oh shit. Oh, holy shit. I’m about to-”

“I know. Can feel you squeezin’ me like a fuckin’ vice.” His arms flex as he holds you steady against his assault.

Your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave, every muscle in your body contracting with intense pleasure. Eddie continues to move within you, prolonging your ecstasy until you collapse back on the couch, utterly and completely spent. He follows soon after, his release warm on your stomach, leaving you both breathless and sated.

Laying there, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. You had just fucked the Eddie Munson… Not just fucked, you let him be your first. Who knew a drunken text could lead to something as inconceivable as having a literal rockstar fuck you until you were seeing stars. 

You could feel Eddie shifting, and you opened your eyes to see him looking down at you. His lips moved, but you could hear no sound. Your heart was racing, and the blood was pumping too loudly in your ears for you to make out what he was saying. 

“Huh?” 

Eddie just shook his head, a smirk forming on those kiss-swollen lips. He stood from the couch, careful not to put his weight on you. 

You watched him closely as he pulled his pants up his thighs and walked to a black duffel bag in the corner. He rummaged through it for a moment before coming back, a green and white package of baby wipes in tow. Taking one out he slowly wiped at the mess you had both made, cleaning you gently. 

By the time he finished, the rushing in your ears had stopped. “Thank you,” you said as you sat up, pulled your skirt down, and searched for your bra and shirt. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Sweetheart. Any decent person offers aftercare.” He bends down, grabs the garments you were looking for, and hands them to you. 

Shaking your head, you say, “Not just for that, Eddie, for everything. I was mortified when I noticed those drunk texts, I still kinda am, but I’m glad you didn’t just block me and move on.” 

“‘S’all right, I actually thought it was cute.”

“You did not… It’s so embarrassing.” You bury your face in your hands blushing as red as you possibly could. 

“Oh, but I did. I wouldn’t have entertained the conversation with you if I hadn’t.”

“Mmm, okay then.” You shake your head. Standing up, you grab your stuff and look back at Eddie. “I guess I should go now, you probably have somewhere to be.” Taking a step toward him, you were going to kiss him on the cheek but thought better of it. Somehow that felt more intimate than the sex you had just had. 

He caught your hand as you turned to go. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Looking back at him you spot your panties hanging from the index finger of his other hand. “Oh, sorry.” You reach to grab for them but he pulls them away. 

You look at him, brow raised in confusion.

“On second thought, maybe I should keep them so I have an excuse to see you again?

[roseillith]

醉拳二 // DRUNKEN MASTER II (1994) dir. LAU KAR-LEUNG, JACKIE CHAN

[catboxcoffin]

Battler/Kinzo/Projection

Battler’s narrative assault & sexualization is pretty interesting to me as an inversion of sexed roles, so I’ve decided to refine and paste some of my thoughts on it, beginning with Yasu-trice. Battler repeatedly has Kinzo’s (amatory) role projected onto him, both by Piece-Beatrice directly and Yasu’s authorial insinuations. (I won’t incorporate Meta-Beatrice into this analysis for a few reasons, the main being that I don’t think she is Yasu in the same sense as the others; secondarily that she is so gratuitous in her assaults and references that it would be nonsensical to lend any nuance to it. Plus, her indiscriminate performance in the earlier episodes is what sets up such a divergence later on)

I. Episode 4

Gameboard events are a requisite to understanding the skeleton of the stories that we’re actually being shown. Given the nebulous nature of the Meta and what it represents, a tale created and decorated in-universe in an attempt to communicate is generally more useful in viewing its subjects. On that note, the end of Episode 4 is a scarce instance where we are given a physical interaction between Piece-Beatrice and Battler. As Battler stands before the balcony denying her riddles and threatening her, Beatrice doubles down on her stern insistence regarding ‘testing’ him as the Successor, yet engages in innuendo the second he attempts to physically approach her. This presents a noticeable incongruence between Beatrice’s projected mythos and Piece-Beatrice as played by Yasu. She is physically distant, reading as almost shy. She’s stepped down from being an active harasser, instead functioning passively and reactively, ungracefully shifting between goals for the conversation. She is clearly very alienated from an autonomous sense of eroticism, which is why she instead endeavors to lure it out of him (despite her performative disdain). Her drunken sexuality is framed in relation to what she thinks hides ‘within’ Battler; her musings are based on the assumptions regarding <The Head>. She arrogantly asserts that her superficial form is his type, making sure to paint it as a shallow preference she’s pinpointed. (However even this is something she already knows as a fact, erasing any chance of the ‘unpredictable roulette’ she seems to exalt. She has little real confidence in her desirability, and even less in her ability to make him remember his sin)

She continues her attempt at testing his resolve, presenting herself for her ‘new master’ to own her flesh and soul as furniture, victimize her into surrender, and, crucially, remind her of Kinzo. Because that’s what Battler is to her: a reincarnation of Kinzo, carrying his spirit and blood most strongly. And how could he be anything else? Yasu is ‘Beatrice’ incarnate, her predecessors being both swept away and brutally betrayed by Kinzo, and by virtue of Battler’s failed promise, he has done the same. Her conflict arises here: her love for Battler meshing with her repulsion towards Kinzo, and her inability to reconcile them as full people. The same assumptions about Kinzo’s relationship to preceding Beatrices that traumatize her into hatred are simultaneously twisted into a romanticized ideal, and she is continually unable to conceive of her relationships without paralleling these identities and dynamics she’s latched onto. She is an ancestral fatalist, resigning not only autonomy within her own life but puppeting her relatives’ souls as her own. They cannot sleep peacefully as themselves, and neither can an unadulterated Battler. Beatrice indirectly castigates Battler (or her idea of him blurred into Kinzo) through her earlier ramblings on the nature of love-as-lust and the cage of flesh, but later turns around and flirts with the ideas, even going as far as writing her piece to romance Kinzo directly, despite knowing she’s caricaturing her own mother’s harrowing circumstances.

II. Message-Bottle Furniture

Lovelessly—or, perhaps, in a twisted abundance of love—Yasu’s message bottles distort Battler’s entire character into something alien in his six-year absence. This is what it means for new truths to triumph over old truths. Battler, the boy who left his own family due to his indignation over infidelity and who sought the heart in every story, is suddenly a perverted beast. He is a vapid womanizer like his father and an exploiter of status and naïveté like his grandfather. Beyond his will, parodied projections of his profanity are exposed within the message bottles, existing to cement his sin as irredeemable. I believe this is both a semi-conscious self-justification on Yasu’s part (cutting out the moral ambiguity of him simply forgetting) and a way to cope with her own undesirability (by manufacturing a more ‘active’ sin, one that would require Battler to care in the first place).

(…Side Note: I like how the attempted grope of Shannon in EP1 encompasses both this hostile projection and a dance around the desire to be discovered… [Fake breasts]. It adds another layer of selfish assumption to her narrative: he was always a piece. He doesn’t solve the epitaph and he doesn’t remember her because he never had the chance.)

To reiterate, his character is degraded and he is manipulated as a plot device within the message bottles. The narrative hinges on his existence, yet he has little room to move—In fact, his actual presence is hardly necessary. He committed a sin that permanently scarred someone, and he cannot apologize. The victim no longer exists. Battler, as a concept, constitutes a motive for murder. In his absence, he is a myth.

Remind you of anyone else?

III. Kuwatrice-Kinzo / Chick Beatrice-BATTLER

This parallel creates an interesting issue. The line of descendant/reincarnation is blurred and there’s an explicitly incestuous tone, but it quickly becomes more of a foil than a mirror. Kinzo’s idea of reincarnation is pure delusion, Battler rejects it despite it being true; Kinzo is affectionately dominating, Battler is cold; Kinzo rejects his status as a father, Battler grows to accept it.

So, Kinzo’s role is subverted. This should be a good thing, right?

It isn’t. At least, not to the judge of sin.

Chick-Beatrice is not a new creation; this is a glimpse of the Beatrice that first adopted Shannon’s bud of love for Battler six years prior. At this point, ‘Beatrice’ was still individuated. She wasn’t yet mutated by the legend of the witch, the solving of the epitaph, or, arguably, her Battler-desirability complex. This, I assert, is the closest we see to a pure ‘Yasu’ in later years, as the remainder of her true self that resided in Shannon had already been compartmentalized by that point. This is why Dawn is so tragic. Battler has allegedly solved her heart, yet even in his ‘enlightenment’ he is dismissive of her. To the first-time viewer, this rejection is bittersweet: he is waiting for the ‘real’ her to return. Issue is, that is the real her. This is the ‘Shannon’ he knew, before she was twisted into a sadistic amalgam of escapist fantasies dressed up with his desires. By all rights, Chick should align much more with the ‘Shannon’ that loved Battler. The dutiful “blindness of a girl in love,” willing to wait a century to be noticed. But he doesn’t understand that, bemoaning being too late while literally being thrusted another chance to do it right. Of course this chance doesn’t apply to reality, but it never did. He was already facing a postmortem trial for his failure in life, and the end of Meta-Beatrice marks his failure in death.

Battler is fated to only ever have a paternalistic, sympathetic affection towards Chick. Even after learning the truth, it will always be Beatrice that he loves. As much is clear in his Twilight gameboard. He recognizes Yasu as a vessel, but she’s virtually indistinguishable from Piece-Beato, an actor serving as the means for the illusion and providing a sympathetic backstory. Ange was right—there’s no point in having someone love in your place.

Regardless, Battler is himself. If he’d only inherited enough of Kinzo’s blood, maybe he could have loved all ‘iterations’ passionately and indiscriminately. Kinzo fabricated connections out of nothing, he ‘understood’ the reincarnated soul, and he was willing to die before he let her escape. His overbearing, cloying affection had a certainty that I believe Yasu envied, in a way. To be kidnapped and caged forever would be morbidly romantic, to her at least. How tragically ironic that the fatalist who desired to be carried away ended up having to orchestrate the game of love&communication herself…

IV. The Head

Aside from what I’ve mentioned, Yasu has a final, strikingly obvious reason to project Kinzo onto Battler: deflection.

Yasu is a disastrous parallel to Kinzo. They share the disturbing quality of willpower exceeding their body, a flippancy regarding life and death, living in spite of frailty. They are born with and die with nothing. She too dances with the magic of the roulette, staking fate on a miracle. She too ‘met’ Beatrice as an attempt at severing her regrets in life; she too summoned the Golden Witch and received a fortune at the cost of her soul; she too felt blessed and mocked by the myth of Beatrice, after wandering half-dead in a life that was not her own. A life in which she had been suddenly given power as a prank of fate, with the included (mis)fortune of polydactyly. They were each forced to endure Endlessness, awaiting the revival of love that may never come, desperately discarding their dignity for the sake of resurrection. The epitaph chooses both Kinzo’s and Beatrice’s successor. To ‘see’ is to answer the riddle. Just as Kinzo did to ‘Beatrice,’ Yasu has sewn the Ushiromiyas’ souls onto the island with magic, allowing them neither power nor form. Both are vulnerable kings protected by their own castles, refusing to speak the truth. Their massive wealth will be distributed, but the secret tales die with them.

Yasu was afforded unbelievable power by solving the epitaph, but it ended up destroying her with knowledge she did not want. She was given the reasoning that kills love. Upon the horrific discovery that her romantic feelings not only couldn’t be consummated but were incestuous as well, it is almost certain that she would feel the same repulsion towards herself as Kinzo. From that moment, she too was lying about the true nature of her relationships with the ones she loved. She too could not curb her affection or fear in time to tell the truth. There is no path she can make for herself, as she cannot live independently of projected roles. Incapable of individuating herself from Kinzo with self-identity, the logical conclusion is to invert the roles and make herself Beatrice, and more importantly, Battler Kinzo. Then, she must pray for the miracle that someone would come and solve the epitaph, taking back the role she was so haunted by and carrying her to a better life…

[slowd1ving]

✦ II. COME HITHER, CURSE WHERE HE LIES

"This was the tale of the seventh prince; an elegy hidden from the footnotes of history. Within the game Lament of Ouroboros, his sorrows were summarised thusly: A strangely warm vein of ore.  Hero, come here when dusk kisses the edge of the Borderlands. As your palm brushes against the rock, you may be able to feel the pulse of a slumbering prince.  Three sentences were all that was afforded to the disgraced prince, forgotten to all but the Moirai." • . * cursed prince ratio + alchemist m reader rough design for minoan fashion ratio here warnings: video game violence, death? kind of? tyranny (are we surprised), male-coded reader (or at least the in-game avatar is), depictions of gore, turning into stone wc: 4.2k

LAMENT OF OUROBOROS MASTERLIST

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

It took all of one year for the warning to become prophecy. One year, approximately four hundred and eight days—give or take—for the two Suns to align themselves in the exact arrangement they had on the Day of Silence. And in that single year, the schemes of Veritas Ratio would germinate, blossom, and finally wither away irrelevantly. 

He was born quietly, and thus his end would, too, be quiet. 

The month of Hekatombaion had the seventh prince leave his tower: like a bird set free from its gilded cage. Though he was never caged, per se, the youth knew it was safest to stay in its stone walls: away from the all-consuming, bloody struggle for the throne, away from the greedy claws of his siblings and their power-hungry gazes. Yes, it was far easier being a shunned seventh prince than getting swept up in the tides of fatal politics. 

Fatal, indeed—the internal strife had already claimed the lives of two of his siblings. He was the fifth prince, if one regarded the situation objectively—but it was better to lurk in the oblivion. Seven was a less significant number than five, after all. 

Hekatombaion was the month of venture. The Day of Silence had occurred in its beginning; the day to mark the new year, where the blank canvas of muteness would sluggishly accumulate the sins and sorrows of the populace in the coming days and weeks. Like honey trickling over sweet basyniai, the seventh prince would begin to spread his own influence to achieve his saccharine conclusion. 

So, the youth ventured forth—though not into the bloody palace, but the summer-worn streets and the agora. Past the stands selling their wares, and the philosophers sermonising on the achromatic cobblestones, were those conducting business and students of the various schools in Metis. The work and school day had shortly ended—the evening of debates and discourse had just begun. 

Without the gilt laurels which suggested his status as one of Elation’s blood, he was no more prince than he was peasant. The drape of his clothes and their exceptional craftsmanship did, however, mark him as a wealthy man—perfect for infiltrating the symposium of a guileless young master. 

Thus, the prince incognito began frequenting these conferences and gleaning precious information and gossip from the drunken fools who sought to boast of their knowledge and logos. Their fallacies were awful for entertainment, but Veritas was very grateful for how witless their lips were. All the news, rumours, and information passed around students and teachers alike were his for the taking: the rudimentary designs from which he would craft his weapon. From these anserine gatherings with peers a few years older than him he crafted a network of the politics of the kingdom: who sat behind and whispered to the magistrates; who supported the polemarch and just who was responsible for the military advancements of the archon in charge of armed forces; and finally, the influence of Aha and his siblings on the spread of the kingdom. 

These were the preliminary preparations for investigating the ruling class of Metis. 

Metageitnion was the month for thanksgiving. The seventh prince’s presence at the mess hall was nothing out of the ordinary, then, for the arid weather heralded festivities and games where his attendance was expected—if not mandated. As opportunistic as he was for information, he naturally assumed his place below his siblings: slightly sycophantic, yet assuredly not a threat. 

Dried figs melted on his tongue—a mellifluous snack he’d consumed plenty of in his tower, but tasted especially cloying as praises flowed from his mouth like honeyed wine. His siblings, vain as they were, dangerous as they were, liked observing how their shunned brother cowed neatly before them. Though, the watered-down liquor they ingested was nowhere near enough to loosen their lips on matters of heresy; another span of days passed without gaining information. In its stead, he established himself as a vapid fool with no interest in scrabbling for the throne: a slippery, cowardly bastard who simply wasn’t worth the effort to kill off. 

Had they paid attention to the glowing reports from his tutors, had they cared an iota for anyone but themselves, they might have noticed that his smarts didn’t just extend to backing off from the throne. Perhaps then, they would have surmised that the compliments and agreements uttered with his smiles were strategic more than anything. 

But his tower was isolated from the main palace, and he was no more a danger than a caged bird. 

A fool, just like the rest of them. Alas, his gormless act perhaps was a bit too convincing—the siblings in the know wouldn’t entrust state secrets to someone who appeared as imbecilic as he did. Nonetheless, they grew accustomed to seeing him, and his presence where they were no longer seemed unusual. 

This was how Veritas tactically placed himself onto the petteia board as a piece that could no longer be overlooked. 

Boedromion was a month of aid, so the prince decided to extend a hand to those seeking help in the assembly. From behind the scenes, he handpicked those he needed for his investigation: those who had the ear of the archon in charge of the military, those who worked in administrative wings of the palace, those who could be moulded into perfect aides for his siblings. He observed the strata unable to speak up, unable to assert themselves in the agora, unable to hold any sway of their own. 

It was no altruism when he pulled them aside. Into their minds he painted himself as the benevolent saviour; the silver tongue who gave them their voice in the assembly back. In return, they turned themselves to pieces on his game board. Hence, he gained valuable information and more reliable rumours to investigate about the imperial family. Who to talk to, who to bribe, who to follow when the twin suns dipped below the horizon and the moon embraced the sky once more. 

These were the new connections the seventh prince forged—a net far more sound than the ramshackle collection of drunken scholars and fools from the symposia. 

Pyanopsion was the month of harvest, so his Highness watched his efforts fruit into an audience with Aha. The drunkard was shrewd—far too clever for someone rumoured to be an imbecile—therefore the seventh prince bowed before the sovereign and spoke no honeyed platitudes to THEM. When the king asked for his thoughts on the assembly, he answered honestly—and THEY guffawed with THEIR chalice in hand. When the king asked for his opinion of the people, he answered fraudulently—and THEY ruffled his amaranth locks with a hand that felt far too distant for a father. 

What are people, if not tools for the Elation?

There is no greater joy for them than serving us on this grand stage. 

Do you not agree, your Majesty?

Lie after lie dripped from his composed mouth. Even as he thought of the bright children running through sun-dappled streets, even as he thought of the beaming pedlars and their wares, even as he thought of the joy in the ordinary, mundane families he came across in the synoikiai—all these mentations came to a halt behind his expression. In those three sentences, his heart had hardened against THEM: as THEY smiled, as THEY affectionately broke bread with him, as THEY gestured for sweet wine to be poured into his cup. 

The youngest prince was no longer a mere prince but Aha’s son; an acknowledgement that only served to disgust the youth further. 

How vile. 

And though his goal was reached, this was how the Elation successfully alienated itself to Veritas. 

Maimakterion was the month of cold, and so the prince retreated to the stone palace for the first time since childhood. Past nightfall, he breached the lax security of the grand library and accessed its restricted section. All his manoeuvring, all his alliances and mind-numbing conversations—it was worth it to finally enter this place once more. 

There, in a forgotten corner that seemed more sepulchral than even the mausoleum, the seventh prince found what he had searched for. Penned in faded ink that he could barely see even with the light enchantment, was proof of collusion between the imperial family and the so-called ‘heretics’.

This was the point in time where his Highness felt the most vindicated towards the venerable Sophos and THEIR mockery. 

This was also the point in time where his Highness could no longer step off the path he had chosen. 

“Do you think he can feel it?” The maiden idly twined threads past HER fingers, for it was far more entertaining to see a mortal walk towards his doom with a head held high. “Surely there must be some sense of ill portent.” 

“The men most arrogant are least prepared for their end, Clotho,” the mother rebuked, but the syllables were about as harsh as spring butterflies—for SHE, too, anticipated the boy’s expression as he stared into the face of his own hamartia. 

“Hubris!” the hag cackled, yet the tremble of HER deathly grin belied the ever-present tears that traced the weary lines of HER face. “What a terrible conclusion.”

For the Moirai, this fate was nothing more than a short-lived, tragic play. 

And so, the month of Posideon passed quickly for both the three and the prince. The information inked into the yellowed scrolls was his proverbial labyrinthine thread, tugging his body to his salvation. Through the throngs of regular humans, his path was etched towards the harbingers of heresy: alchemists and their ilk. 

Throughout these days, he hardly thought of Sophos Nous at all; yet the familiar sensation of exoneration remained. He would prove himself before THEM; he was ready to put Aha to trial in front of the assembly if need be. 

The archontes were not infallible. 

This fact applied to Aha especially. 

When he probed those labelled as heretics, he was bitterly reminded that this wasn’t their fault. They were not the lawmakers, nor were they those with choice. Victims. Shackled to the Elation, their actions were akin to those of a puppet: pushed towards their day of reckoning by a force far superior to their own. 

Thus, the seventh prince worked tirelessly. Through the short days, through the long nights—he toiled away in his tower. He compiled sets of arguments, practised endless logos, drafted out the evidence necessary to condemn those at fault within the upper echelons of Metis. 

Gamelion came and went. Under the guise of a serving boy and some forbidden enchantments, Veritas walked the long stretches of the palace with nothing but worn sandals on his feet. He traced its ancient mosaics: memorising the old walkways and floor plans gifted by one of his acquaintances. For preparation was the friend of success, and the prince was nothing if not successful in his endeavours. 

It all led up to this night—stepping into the room sequestered from any official floor plan. 

“Look at him,” the maiden cooed. The spindle in HER cruel hands stilled momentarily—for a brief while, none were born. Though, this was an insignificant deviance in the tapestry of humanity: far too quick for anyone to realise. “Has he realised he’s out of his depth yet?”

“Hardly,” the matron scoffed. “He’s ablaze with self-righteous anger, as it were. Surely he could not have been ignorant of the sins on his own blood-kin’s hands?”

“Lachesis,” the hag warned. “Keep silent and enjoy the act.”

“Don’t tell me you feel sympathetic, Atropos?” the mother sneered, for it was ludicrous that the Moirai felt any sort of attachment to humanity. To fairly allot, the reason for THEIR very existence, was no longer possible if any bias was introduced to any of them. 

“Hardly,” the crone muttered. HER sentimentality would not affect HER role in this universe; just as it had been before, and as it would be after, HER shears would continue their severing of life from humans. 

The three were rapt as the prince gazed around the hall. Every turbulent beat of his heart, every miniscule grit of his molars, every bitter fist his sinuous hands made—all of his reactions were carefully documented, since a tragic hero like him had not been observed for an age and then some. 

It was by no means a modest room. The circumference of the marble spanned the equivalent of the large temple dedicated to the Elation, propped up by frieze-decorated columns. Stone reliefs etched into the walls depicted the rise of his lineage; they were intertwined with a sickening repertoire of mythos that they had no place against. Heroes of the old gleamed bright against his family’s wickedness—so utterly out of place he couldn’t help but gaze foully at the castings. 

Turned yonder, and the door through which he came glinted with the tell-tale light of an enchantment: a rippling string of formulae that indicated the space warping which enveloped this place. Yes, although the archon had expressly forbidden use of enchantments, they clearly had no qualms about taking the knowledge for their own gain. 

For the Elation is above the law. 

Past the vast anteroom was another door; this one, too, distended and undulated under his piercing gaze. Or rather, the silent movement of his mouth as he shattered its illusions and breached its innermost chamber—and this one was the one which struck him still. 

The seventh prince could only watch, horrified, as the expanse of terror unfolded before him. There was no escape from the sight, not unless his eyes were plucked out of his skull. 

Aeons. 

There was no space unblemished by golden cadavers. Cadavers, for statues surely wouldn’t possess faces distorted in crazed screams and bodies contorted in the most despicable of agonies. Cadavers, for surely their pain had ended—he prayed they were dead within their metallic shell, he prayed their souls had departed the material world, he prayed that his presence didn’t disturb their rest any further. 

Bile rested bitter in his mouth, and he struggled not to let the acrid film swirl into vomit—for his stomach churned and his palms grew clammy at the sight. 

These were the supposed threats to the Elation—innocents whose only crime had been to be against the tyranny of his family. 

For their dissent, they’d been dipped in molten gold—either dying through the intense heat, or slowly withering away as the alchemy chipped away at their flesh. 

Both options were equally horrifying. The seventh prince’s vision swam, and he barely made it back to his tower before his legs finally gave out. 

Yes, the prince had gained the knowledge he finally needed to take down his family, but at what cost?

Deep inside, he already knew the heavy feeling in his heart was the price he was beginning to pay. 

If only he knew the fate allotted to him at the end of this thorny path. 

Anthesterion trickled by slow as a fat bee. Sluggish. Every second was prolonged, every moment was accompanied by his racing pulse and adrenaline-stricken brain. No longer did he need to act the cowed prince—for before his siblings, his mouth grew dry and his pupils constricted into mere pinpricks. 

When he glanced at his sister, he saw the golden woman who’d wept with her body curled in on herself: shoulders hunched to her ears, hands sharpened into desperate claws (gouging at her flesh, since everyone knew pain nullified pain—and what greater anguish was there than losing your very body to aureate?). She’d writhed in her last moments; the harrowing movements had sent shockwaves all throughout the security enchantments. 

He could taste her tears.

When he stared at his three brothers, he also stared at the man who had ripped off his own arm to escape his inescapable fate. He stared at the blood that had pooled like gilt on the marble floor, for not even his most ardent lifeblood could evade the disgusting talons of his kin. He stared at the expression of horror the man had: eyes bulging out of their sockets, mouth twisted to an excruciating scream, and a wretched gaze afflicting him. 

He could feel the oily sanguine dripping from his own hands. 

He could no longer escape his siblings either. 

They relished in the iron grip they had over the city. They revelled in the generated fear. They savoured their long talks—talks which Veritas was now privy to, talks in which he did his best not to heave up the fruit in his stomach and the bilious film that now perpetually dwelled on his tongue. He was reviled, but they indulged in their craving for petrification with a particular sapidity that broke him down—over and over and over until he could no longer smell anything that didn’t carry the stench of copper. 

That was perhaps the month in which the seventh prince grew the most ill. 

Elaphebolion trailed its ghostly fingers around his neck like a noose. He grew careless in his haste to put his family before trial: left too many loose ends, made too many connections, and drew the attention of far too many eyes. 

It didn’t take long for his tower to truly become the cage of his metaphor. 

No, it took less than three days from his last meeting with an informant to find the door to his tower securely locked. Overnight, while the seventh prince restlessly slumbered, wrought bars enclosed his windows in one final trap. 

Thus, the prince was prince no longer, but a bird with its wings clipped forevermore. 

But that was not the end of it—for if it was, his life-thread would not have been seeped with the bloodiest of carmines. 

Mounichion was when Aha finally came to visit THEIR wayward son. 

Join me, THEY offered—though Veritas knew THEIR proffered hand was no salvation, but puppet strings that would attach to his own. For the ceaseless entertainment of the Elation, this was perhaps the greatest mercy Aha could extend: to become a dull marionette in this gilded cage until only his bones were strung up for all to ridicule. 

And when THEIR son’s incensed gaze did not waver, THEY sighed. 

Maddened with grief, boy? THEY mocked the look in his irises—once as bright and sweet as cherries, now dulled to the hue of dried blood. 

Kill me, those numbed eyes seemed to respond—but futilely, the youth wanted to live. 

“I’ve something much better, son.”

Mounichion was thus the month of confinement, where Aha planted a short-lived weed of hope that sprung up in the cracks of the prince’s heart—and withered just as quickly. 

Thar-gelion was when Veritas avoided death, but lost many things in return. 

It had started off small. His vision began to blur somewhat, but he chalked it to confinement in his tower. Even when he crafted himself ocular lenses and fitfully forced himself to sleep in the topmost room, there were moments in which the edges of his sight faded and greyed with a frequency that slowly increased. 

He browsed anatomical manuscripts. When the light from the twin Suns was particularly dim, he struck the oil-lamps with crude enchantments and perused their words as though they held the key to his answers—yet the lack of solutions was not enough to alarm him.

It should’ve been. 

His sense of smell was next to mute, though this was a far more subtle difference than his sight. Being confined to a particular area would obviously force one to grow accustomed to its ins and outs—including the odours and various scents of it. It wasn’t a problem, until one day Veritas Ratio noticed he could no longer quite smell the papery fragrance of his scrolls, nor the rich tang of his ink. 

Yet still, he ignored the warning signs. After all, he was preparing for his eventual execution. 

Naturally, his taste palate, too, had dulled due to his weakening olfactory sense. Although, this loss was far less profound than one might have anticipated—but it made all too much sense if one took into consideration his status as a prince awaiting judgement. Feed him enough so he survives. A few pieces of flatbread, some cheese, and one or two bruised handfuls of dried fruits were dropped through the bars daily—along with a skin of sour wine—much like feeding a wild bird when it had not yet been tamed enough for the door to open. These various foodstuffs were bland enough that it wouldn’t have made a difference if he could taste either way. 

Thus, the prince simply did not notice this sense fading.

The next sense to take leave was his hearing, and this time he did feel the difference. His balance was affected, though he surmised that was due to the lack of nutrients his body received. But when the fragile rustle of paper against his fingers stopped registering; when the tell-tale thump of his heart in the silence of his room grew silent; when he could no longer hear his own neurotic waves of breathing—this was when the seventh prince realised something was dreadfully wrong. 

He’d screamed himself hoarse, tearing at his skin with his nails to wake from this forsaken dream—only to no longer feel his crescent nails digging into flesh. 

No. No.

Air came shallow to the prince as his fading eyes desperately fixated on the blood welled on his arms. He could not feel the wounds. He could not smell the metallic crimson dripping in rivulets. He could not hear the hasty, panicked breaths and his racing pulse. And finally, when he put his mouth to staunch the flow, he could not taste the acrid tang on his palate either. 

And so, the prince spent the month of Thar-gelion slowly losing his mind. 

Skirophorion was when it came to a bitter end. 

In those days, His Highness barely left his bed. Sleep was now the only respite; he could no longer read his books, he could no longer pore over his beloved tools, and he could no longer support his weakening body. Any meals were now delivered far more sporadically; alas, the prince rarely ever ate. 

Death was imminent. 

His mind had long since given up, and his body was sure to follow. 

Any day now. Veritas could only count the seconds, the minutes and the hours—no longer could the youth cross the days off, not when his joints and limbs had petrified. 

Death was a mercy the prince would not receive. 

It was when Aha next visited THEIR son at the tower that Veritas truly learnt of the state he was in. 

No, he was no longer at his tower. That was a lie—a last comfort afforded to the prince. 

Poor child, all of this suffering could have been avoided, Aha’s message burst bright in his dulled mind. He thought he felt his index finger twitch. 

Would you like to see what you look like? The golden impression faded, as though Aha was waiting for the prince to answer. Well, I suppose you can’t answer either way. 

A sort of horrified fascination lingered in the scholar’s mind. Had his flesh, too, been transmuted to an aureate statue?

Did you think you’d join your people as one of MY sculptures? The question shook sympathetically, or maybe it was a dry laugh as the king looked on at THEIR pitiful son. 

No, child, you deserve a tragic end befitting MY line. 

And thus, the youth blindly awaited his judgement. 

Death shall never end thee, for madness will be thy salvation. 

No longer did he sense Aha’s presence. 

Rather, one last image was transmitted through the king’s enchantment—a cliffside, in which Veritas could faintly see his own features carved into the rock. Then, nothing. 

The stone smoothed out, and his image was struck from history forevermore. 

. 　⁺ ✦ 

When the next Day of Silence came and went, the prince was truly mute. He had no mouth, after all—so not a scream left him. 

The only thing he had left were his thoughts: one last, final burden. 

Is this the cost YOU foresaw, Nous? 

Veritas Ratio’s arrogance was no more. And so, the prince’s story came to a swift, acrimonious end. No, not end, for that implied that he was not shackled to limbo.  Bound to neither gold nor a statue, he would spend the rest of time waiting to be purified of his sins—for gold was finality. Gold was the most sacrosanct form of death he had not been afforded. 

And as the prince continued to count away the seconds, the minutes, the hours and eventually the years which trickled past in the hourglass, only insanity awaited him. 

This was the tale of the seventh prince; an elegy hidden from the footnotes of history. 

Within the game Lament of Ouroboros, his sorrows were summarised thusly:

A strangely warm vein of ore. 

Hero, come here when dusk kisses the edge of the Borderlands. As your palm brushes against the rock, you may be able to feel the pulse of a slumbering prince. 

Three sentences were all that was afforded to the disgraced prince, forgotten to all but the Moirai. 

Three sentences were how his tragedy was retold. 

Three sentences, a final insult to the most pitiful of princes. 

. 　⁺ ✦

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-04-03

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Dr. Stephen Strange stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✑ Between the Shelves￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by unrefinedmusings • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: You never expect the one-and-only Dr. Strange to walk into your bookstore looking for a birthday gift, nor did you expect what came next.

✑ 3:1 Ratio by parkerbliss • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Three times Dr. Strange saved you, and the one time you saved him."

✑ A Touch of Jealousy by brunchable • 18+ • 〔E᜶A〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •

Summary: "[After the events of 'Poisonous Touch,'] Stephen reminds you, who your husband is."

✑ All Tied Up by lipstickmarks • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You and Stephen try bondage."

✑ Annoying by spookyspecterino • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "During an argument you let slip that you may have once had a crush on Stephen Strange, but Stephen doesn't reject you and some interesting things are revealed..."

✑ Be Alright by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 •

Description: Y/N and Stephen run into one another for the first time in years at Christine’s wedding. She’d thought her crush for the man had faded over the years, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

✑ Breaking Codes of Conduct... by strangelure • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Poor Wong [walks in on you] and Stephen getting steamy in the Sanctum library."

✑ Candies and Stickers by annesthaeticc • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "In one of the many multiversal travels with America Chavez and you, Stephen finds himself in another universe and meets a version of himself. A meeting he didn't quite expect."

✑ Caught in a Web￨Prt. II by strangelockd • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You find the Master of the Mystic arts in a very compramising position... " then "Stephen finally gets his long awaited payback for what you put him through."

✑ Dancing with Myself by just-the-hiddles • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Stephen goes out with Wong for some groceries and comes back to find his cloak and [you getting] up to some shenanigans."

✑ Face Your Fears by lightmeuplivly • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "After coming back from the multiverse he writes you a letter telling you everything you need to know..."

✑ Falling in Love by maria4444 • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "[During a drunken game of truth or dare, you're] dared to sit in Stephen's lap for… the night."

✑ Family Bliss by eviesarusrex • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Stephen and [you] —world famous Avengers (but kinda retired) —are picking up [your] kids from school."

✑ Get Ready with Me by sassenach-on-the-rocks • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Happiness Looks Good on You by classickook • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Attending Christine's wedding with Stephen has you feeling a little insecure about your relationship, however, the truth is that he could not be more in love with you.

✑ Hypothermia by gaitwae • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "After Stephen comes back from a mission in the mountains, he's contracted hypothermia."

✑ I'm Not in Love by ro-is-struggling • 〔E᜶A〕 •

Summary: "You are not in love with Stephen Strange, he is insufferable and does nothing but get on your nerves... So why do you feel some type of way every time he mentions Christine's name?"

✑ In Good Care by sassenach-on-the-rocks • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: After being hurt at work due to a mishap, you learn what happens when the girlfriend of the Sorcerer Supreme is harmed.

✑ Jealous Girl by strrvnge • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You've been invited to Christine's wedding as Stephen's plus one and while you're worried about getting late Stephen doesn't mind."

✑ Karaoke Night by annesthaeticc • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "The sorcerer supreme, the master of the mystic arts, and the disciple walk in to a karaoke bar on a Saturday night, fun ensues."

✑ Key to My Heart, the by sassenach-on-the-rocks • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Stephen returns to the Sanctum and discovers you waiting for him for the first time since he gave you a key.

✑ Kicker of Mystical A** by generallynerdy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Mornings in the Strange household are... quiet, despite what people might think... Well, usually. Sometimes your husband's friends barge in... all comes with the job, you suppose. However, the first time they come knocking they are oddly quiet around you..."

✑ Let's Fall in Love by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "[You and Stephen] join the Avengers at Stark Tower. A friendly competition ensues where the sorcerers' musical knowledge is put to the test. Yes, [you're] friends, but [you can't deny you feel] something more for [your] mentor. Will hidden affections finally come to light through a bit of music?"

✑ Mrs. Strange by eviesarusrex • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: You and Stephen enjoy a moment alone at your wedding reception.

✑ My Heart is Yours by sassenach-on-the-rocks • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: "Months after breaking up with your ex, your friendship with Stephen Strange has quickly blossomed. But how much more will it grow when a long-held secret comes out?"

✑ Not Going Anywhere by lykaonimagines • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: After years of being Hydra's guinea pig, you believed there was nothing you couldn't handle. However, taking care of a sick Stephen Strange might prove to be beyond your capabilities, especially when he won't stop flirting with you!

✑ Not So Bad￨Prt. II by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[When the Avengers need to 'borrow a wizard'] for a mission,… Stephen isn't too happy [to have you] spending the night away from him, [leading] him to take matters into his own hands."

✑ Rain by ultralightpoe • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Stephen hates rain, and he also hates fighting with you."

✑ Reminders and Regrets by takemehomeplz • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "You and Stephen both have different ideas of what it means to be safe, especially when it comes to your four-year-old daughter… and even more so when the activity in question involves messing around on the ice in the sanctum."

✑ Return to Me￨Prt. II by sassenach-on-the-rocks • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Returning home after being blipped Stephen comes back to the Sanctum and discovers that the Sanctum now has new occupants, you and his daughter Aurora."

✑ Sacrificial Love by omgstarks • 18+ • 〔E᜶A〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "He told you he loved you. He told you he'd protect you. Then why would he sacrifice you?" 

✑ Save It til the Morning After by sassenach-on-the-rocks • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: Your relationship with Stephen has evolved from colleagues to friends to more than friends. Now that it has been brought up by a third party, you must navigate through feelings you can no longer ignore.

✑ Secret Behind the Smile￨Prt. II by eviesarusrex • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: You and Stephen have been covertly seeing each other for about a year, so far you haven't had an issue keeping your relationship a secret. However, it seems like your luck is starting to run out. How will everyone react when they discover your in a relationship with the sorcerer?

✑ Somebody to Love by lykaonimagines • 〔A᜶F〕 • ♡ •

Summary: Stephen has purposely avoided you since the blip, not ready to fully accept that you moved on while he was gone. But after being guilted into attending a Stark party, he’s forced to face situation and far from ready to do that.

✑ Toddler Troubles by vi-trying-to-survive • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Thousand Possibilities by curseofaphrodite • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Stephen visits the Stark Enterprises and stumbles upon you, but why did it seem like he already knew you?"

✑ Two of You by lykaonimagines • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: Convinced you and Stephen are planning to send her away, America begins "helping" around the sanctum to convince you to let her stay, resulting in chaos and a long-overdue family conversation.

✑ Wall of Text by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "[Your] unspoken feelings for Stephen are driving [you mad] and making it impossibly hard to focus on [your responsibilities in the Sanctum. You've] got to let [them] go... but not without telling him. Sending a message when he's out in the cosmos and unable to receive it has to be the best solution, right?"

✑ When a Man Annoys a Woman by eviesarusrex • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "...What happens when Wong decides to set [you and Stephen] up on a blind date to confess your feelings to each other and give everyone at Kamar-taj a break from your and the doctor's constant bickering]."

✑ Where You're Going by spilledkauffie • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: After an argument with Stephen you find yourself in the Rotunda of Getaways

✑ A Bit of Comfort by dino-fart • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ After Care by mostly-marvel-musings • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ An Absolutely Point in Time by bxsotted • 〔F〕 •

✑ Another Reality by multific • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •

✑ Are You Flirting with Me? by dino-fart •

✑ Between the Lines by bxsotted • 〔A〕 •

✑ Build-a-Bear Conversation by sorceress-marie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Butterflies by dino-fart • 〔F〕 •

✑ Cloak, the by justauthoring • 〔F〕 •

✑ Come to Bed by newtsniffles • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dirty Dishes by vi-trying-to-survive • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Family Picnic by dino-fart • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Favourite Avenger by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Finally￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by whirlybirbs • 〔F〕 •

✑ Good Girl by omgstarks • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Happier Than Ever by sbnslver • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Holding Hands by dino-fart • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Husband & Wife by dino-fart • 〔F〕 •

✑ Kisses by iamnotoriginalphil • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Late Night Confessions by bxsotted • 〔F〕 •

✑ Lesson Learned by sassenach-on-the-rocks • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Library Tickles by dino-fart • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Mellow Morning by itsactuallywhitewolf • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Mid-Day Nap by curseofaphrodite • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Missing You by dino-fart • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Please Don't Hide Things From Me by dino-fart • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Safe Space by vi-trying-to-survive • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Say It Ain't So by sbnslver • 〔F᜶M〕 •

✑ Serious by multific • 〔F〕 •

✑ Shared Blanket by vi-trying-to-survive •

✑ Sick Day Soup by vi-trying-to-survive • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sleep Tight Strange by minnie-marvel • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sleepy Morning by vi-trying-to-survive • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Stephen's Surprise by worldofheros • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Tea and Cuddles by high-functioning-lokipath • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Teach Me by coppercatwrites • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Terribly Stubborn by delicrieux • 〔F〕 •

✑ What's in It for Me? by whirlybirbs • 〔F〕 •

✑ Your My Happy Place by dino-fart • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Stephen Falling for You, His Nemesis… by myriadimagines • 〔F〕 •

See Also: Navigation || Stephen Strange Master Index

Authors: @annesthaeticc || @brunchable || @bxsotted || @classickook || @coppercatwrites || @curseofaphrodite || @delicrieux || @dino-fart || @eviesaurusrex || @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds || @gaitwae || @generallynerdy || @high-functioning-lokipath || @iamnotoriginalphil || @itsactuallywhitewolf || @just-the-hiddles || @justauthoring || @lightmeuplivly || @lipstickmarks || @lykaonimagines || @maria4444 || @minnie-marvel || @mostly-marvel-musings || @multific || @myriadimagines || @newtsniffles || @omgstarks || @parkersbliss || @ro-is-struggling || @sassenach-on-the-rocks || @sbnslver || @sorceress-marie || @spilledkauffie || @spookyspecterino || @strangelockd || @strangelure || @strrvnge || @takemehomeplz || @ultralightpoe || @unrefinedmusings || @vi-trying-to-survive || @whirlybirbs || @worldofheroes || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl ||

[boardsdonthitback]

Ken Lo, Jackie Chan - Drunken Master II (1994)

[firewindisreal12]

My very serious shadow milk vs pure lily fanfic

Tags: guns, alcohol, swearing, not important but reproduction is canon, and periods, and pissing and shitting, shadow milk can transform into anything but it's always in his color scheme, after the events of beast yeast episode 7-8,

II: crashout and epic plan

After the events of beast yeast, shadow milk was infuriated with his failed attempt to get pure vanillas souljam. He was completely throwing a fit. Drinking alcohol like a drunken father, Destroying the room that was supposed to be pure vanilla's, and using pictures of him as target practice. "THAT TWO FACED BITCH!!!!! WHEN IM FINALLY HAPPY IN EONS HE .. CHANGES HIS WHOLE IDEOLOGY ON ME!!!" The rotten milk screamed as he went over to get another picture of pure vanilla when he saw and realized a little something. "Oh right... pure vanilla has a wife.. or girlfriend.. or fiancé..." he looked at white lily for a while and smiled.

"Agh! How am I gonna have kids now?!" Black sapphire dropped to his knees in pain as Candy Apple laughed. "Servannnntsss!!!!! I have a task for you two.." shadow milks loud theatre voice kid voice immediately filled up the room. "Hrgg... yes master shadow milk..?" black sapphire was still in pain. "We HAVE to find white lily and lock her up somewhere! And get your guys disguises we gotta go NOW." Shadow milk quickly turned into a woman with a blueberry color scheme, basically the same one he has. "Yes master!!!" The two spoke up and immediately put their disguises on, however they do it..

After a while of walking to the faerie kingdom, they realized it was a bit far so shadow milk had to resort to becoming a car. They finally arrived to the faerie kingdom but their disguises didn't help much. Especially since they have a suspiciously shadow milk colored car. "Wow..! I thought those were fictional!" The faeries said and black sapphire could feel all their eyes on it. "I gotta find a parking lot.. or somewhere we can park you.." after fifteen minutes they finally found a parking spot and shadow milk could finally return to his regular form! Or so they thought..

because little did they know, silver bell cookie was right behind them... "stop it right now! You're not getting away with whatever you're gonna do next!" Black sapphire cookie shouted at shadow milk "GO!!!! We'll deal with it!" And go he did, he even dodged the arrow from silver bell.

Shadow milk ran for a few minutes before stopping at a bar "man I GOTTA go!" He ran to the women's bathroom quick and let out a number two. While he was wiping, he heard someone walking in and talking "ohh... I needed this." And they put something down .. like staff perhaps.. that's when shadow milk realized, THAT was white lily! "Yesss.. YESSS!!!!" He yelled like an insane person before getting out and breaking off the storage compartment outside with the 1 cent pads and tampons before barricading the stall where white lily was with it. "What's wrong with you..!!" White lily yelled out loud before shadow milk grabbed the staff she left outside and turned into the blue version of white lily. "Before you rot, I'll have you know that you'll never see pure vanilla ever again!" He grabbed her staff and ran away.

He ran to where his servants were and surprisingly they were still there. Still fighting silver bell though. "Minions! Quick! Get in and grab the staff!" Shadow milk transformed into a car again and they did as they were told.

[hyeahgaku]

Compilation of Movie References in SAKAMOTO DAYS manga (pt.1)

(1) 🎬 Léon: The Professional

Boiled and Obiguro seem to have been inspired by the characters Léon and Mathilda from the film.

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(2) 🎬 Drunken Master series

Lu Shaotang's drunken fist style pose in chapter 11 is paying homage to Jackie Chan's fighting stance in the Drunken Master II film. Lu drinking alcohol & activating her Drunken Fist mode is also inspired by Jackie's character in the film series.

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(3) 🔫 Metal Gear Solid 3 (not a movie but video game)

Heisuke Mashimo's pet bird, Piisuke, acts as his spotter. This is most likely inspired by The End, a character in MGS3, who is also a sniper & even owns a pet bird which acts as his spotter too.

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(4) 🎬 John Wick series

Sakamoto's retirement & how he's feared by those in the underworld is also similar to John Wick's story.

Sakamoto imagines killing the dude in chapter 1 using a pen/pencil, which is an actual scene from John Wick 2.

The JAA building shown in chapter 50 is a nod to the Continental Hotel in the John Wick movies.

The "Floaters" clean-up crew in Sakadays is the series' own version of John Wick's "Cleaners" unit.

Sakamoto VS Kanaguri in the library is probably inspired by John Wick: Chapter 3 library fight.

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(5) 🎬 Casino / Grosse Pointe Blank / The Bourne Identity / Red Eye

Death by the pen/pencil is not only exclusive to John Wick series, in fact there are many other films in which somebody meets their demise via this formidable weapon. Therefore, in instances where Sakamoto uses a ballpoint pen as a weapon could also be a homage to some of the movies listed above, other than John Wick.

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(6) 🎬 Funny Games

When Kanaguri appeared in chapter 59, he mentioned Funny Games movie as there was so much despair going on -just like the victims who were suffering in the film. It appears that Kanaguri's character design may, after all, have been inspired by Paul, the film's primary antagonist.

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(7) 🎬 Stand by Me

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(8) 🎬 Roman Holiday

In chapter 102, young Kanaguri was watching Roman Holiday and the scene portrayed on the television was an exact scene from the film.

(9) 🎬 Star Wars, Child's Play, Friday the 13th, Scream

Figurines of characters from these popular movies were seen among Kanaguri's collection on his display shelf in chapter 102.

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(10) 🔫 Resident Evil 4 (not a movie but video game)

(11) 🎬 Johnny Mnemonic

Can't help but notice that Gaku's VR gear may just be inspired off Keanu Reeves' character from the Johnny Mnemonic film.

continue to pt.2 》

[akane171]

Things about Ron Speirs that live rent free in my head - PART II

-We can see 4 soldiers running to the Eagle’s Nest, but no Speirs with them at that moment. I’m headcanoning he was already waiting for them at the door, smoking his third cigarette and impatiently tapping his foot.

-He smoked so much, because he didn’t know what to do with his hands in social situations, don’t change my mind.

-That instant regret, when he tried to socialize in Carentan and told the soldiers they were moving soon. That last look he threw them always make me cackle. He was SO DONE. And probably didn’t even try to socialize for the next month at least.

-Him being: clean shaven with hair slicked back, with his helmet on and with ruffled hair falling on his forehead - are three different demons and they all hit you differently.

-It’s super adorable that he was the most soft-spoken and sweetest when he was or dead tired or drunk.

-And you know, in all the moments when he forced his facial muscles to smile - every time, somewhere in the universe an unicorn has died (Forced, not genuine. When he smiled genuinely every time an unicorn shat a granade).

-“Lieutenant Lipton! :DDDDD” *gross sobbing*

-All the scenes, with his side profiles, when he stood with his arms folded on his chest and silently judged the universe.

-His relationship with Janovec. Like. I can’t even imagine how hilarious it had to be in general xD

-The moment when Harry didn’t allow him to steal and he looked at Winters, like he wanted help from dad (someone else on tumblr mentioned it and it’s a perfect catch).

-It's almost canon (some deleted or not filmed scene?) that Speirs (and Jones) dragged drunken Lipton to his quarter. I guess, he would have done that after all the "officers chilling and drinking time". Dick would have done that with Nixon. (And they would just have left Harry behind, duh).

-“Hey, Liebgott, you wanna sit this out?” master troll strikes again :’) (also it’s quite funny, because real Webster really admired Speirs and said he was one of the very few officers he really liked).

-The pure admiration in his eyes for his commander, when Dick cancelled the another patrol.

-It’s quite interesting how fast he has learnt about the abilities of all of his sergeants and knew who could do the job.

-The way he taped Lipton’s chest with his knuckles, after Lip was promoted and that soft smile :’)

-All the pouts.

-The fact he had no nervous system in combat situations and then he was all meow, meow with people he liked and felt comfortable with.

-“This war is not about fighting anymore. It’s about who gets what.” On the funny note, it’s hilarious when we consider his sticky fingers here. On the serious note, knowing what happened next aka the cold war – he was totally right.  

-The scene in ep 7, when Lip talks about him and he emerged from the fog like a ghost and then scared the shit out of Christenson and other poor souls. Poetic cinema xD

-The moment when he called God, because Lipton was liptoning and refusing to lie down, while being sick. (And yes, in real life he told Lip to take the ONLY bed. Lip, because he was Lip, refused, but then he was ordered, so he agreed… I don’t know what to do with this information, seriously….).

-That hand tremble while he was pointing the gun at the asshole that shot Grant. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife, it was that thick.

-Also the line “When you talk to the officer, you say sir.” is so damned corny when you think about it, but because it was Speirs and the way he delivered it, it ended simply great. Also, A+ acting again.

-There is a lot to unpack in this scene, because why the ruthless killer, who was nicknamed “Bloody”, didn’t shot the bastard? He has had enough of killing? The prisoner was defenceless? He calculated the consequences, because he already knew he was staying in the army? All of this? Who knows.

-The fact we again, didn’t see his face for a moment, when he holstered his gun and said Grant was going to be ok - damn, I would want to see it.

(On the real side note, I think I’ve read somewhere (probably it was the Fierce Valour), that real Speirs said to Winters, that he didn’t really know, but there had to be some kind of doubt in his mind, that’s why he didn’t pull the trigger.)

Ok, the END.

It’s quite embarrassing how much time I’ve spent thinking about this asshole, but whatever.

Part one (x)

[roseillith]

醉拳二 // DRUNKEN MASTER II (1994) dir. LAU KAR-LEUNG, JACKIE CHAN

[nab3rries]

𓊈 𓇽 𓊉        . sam’s planetarium

                                           𓇚

i.        𝓅olaris: better cr reality. the apple of my eye. call me a fan fiction author the way i am fix-it au-ing my life in my script for this reality. imagine in a democratic türkiye, and the beautiful city of istanbul. life is like this: after school quests with friends (walking along the Bosphorus), a party here and there, sunday’s spent with my mother, attending istanbul fashion week (its a thing!), evenings spent on my laptop typing up cute little tumblr posts, a call to my father who lives across the globe every morning and afternoon, traveling abroad with my mother at every opportunity, designing and making my own clothes, being social.

                                                                                            . . . tag ╱ 𓇕𓇕𓇕

ii.        𝒿upiter: golden trio reality. (disclaimer: FUCK JKR). alie tomb’s life is laughter, gryffindor, exploration, adventure, and magic magic magic. she is the main character, though an odd one. in this peaceful hogwarts, there is not much angst or trauma and more of petty arguments (draco &&. alie), a lot of teenage drama (literally everyone), a lot of unnecessarily dangerous adventuring and exploration (alie, ron, hermione). and a sweet little love story (alie &&. ginny).

                 𓇕𓇕𓇕 ╱ significant other . . . ginny weasley.

                                                                                           . . . tag ╱ 𓇕𓇕𓇕

iii.        𝓅luto: zero reality. in the year 5500, (base reality first name/surname) runs the bar named eden in the most populated city-planet of the milky way. she spends her days squeezing past the metro crowds, scolding twelve year olds that think they can fool her to give them a drink or two, being tiredly amused by the drunken flirting of supposedly intimidating space-pirates, and barely holding back from shouting at rude customers. she loves her job, truly. she also loves her friends. whom are mostly space explorers (ehem. space pirates). she also loves her man. who is also a space “explorer”. you’ll never find her indulging in criminal activities, though.

                 𓇕𓇕𓇕 ╱ significant other . . . roronoa zoro.

                                                                                           . . . tag ╱ 𓇕𓇕𓇕

iv.        𝓂ars: star wars reality. from the planet demortis in the outskirts of the unknown regions comes the second prophesied little god/hero of the jedi order. zara of demortis is fourteen when she is brought to coruscant, which so incredibly different to her home planet that she immediately dislikes it━the never-ending concrete, the skyscrapers, no greenery, no sea, a sky with no stars, and strict order and discipline. zara of demortis, a free girl that can grow life out of her hands, can’t fit into this planet, this jedi order, that seems to reject all she loves. so after she reaches the rank of ‘knight’ under the tutelage of master windu (whom she has a rather complicated relationship with), she flees. to naboo she goes, with its ranging flora, rivers, seas, and oceans, and makes herself a name━promptly catching the attention of an acquaintance and a queen he is protecting.

                 𓇕𓇕𓇕 ╱ significant other . . . padmé naberrie, anakin skywalker.

                                                                                            . . . tag ╱ 𓇕𓇕𓇕

                                           𓇚

𓊈𓉳𓊉        . to be open for observation at a later date . . .

v.        𝓃eptune: marauders reality.                             . . . tag ╱ 𓇕𓇕𓇕

vi.       𝓅ollux: camp half-blood reality.           . . . tag ╱ 𓇕𓇕𓇕

vii.      𝓂ercury: fantasy reality.                         . . . tag ╱ 𓇕𓇕𓇕

viii.     𝒷etelgeuse: time travel: 1900s reality.         . . . tag ╱ 𓇕𓇕𓇕

ix.      𝓉he sun: one piece reality.                               . . . tag ╱ 𓇕𓇕𓇕

x.       𝒷ellatrix: pirate witch reality.                           . . . tag ╱ 𓇕𓇕𓇕

                                                     and much more .

                             𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

                      NAB3RRIES © 2025