#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

[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…

[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 •

✑ Balance by thepokyone • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ 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 || @thepokyone || @ultralightpoe || @unrefinedmusings || @vi-trying-to-survive || @whirlybirbs || @worldofheroes || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl ||

[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. 

. 　⁺ ✦

[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.

-

(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.

-

(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.

-

(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.

-

(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.

-

(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.

-

(7) 🎬 Stand by Me

-

(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.

-

(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 》

[whoiwanttoday]

I couldn't sleep last night so I stayed up late watching old Kung Fu movies. Now, I would rather sleep but overall this was a satisfying way to spend 3 AM. I didn't watch anything I hadn't seen before cause that can be a risk, so I just grabbed some old classics and watched those (for those curious it was Drunken Master II, Come Drink With Me, and The 8 Diagram Pole Fighter). I have many times in the past wanted to post one of the truly classic stars of old Kung Fu cinema. There are a few faces you see over and over again because at the heart of old Kung Fu stuff is some very high level athleticism and skill, so it isn't just casing a pretty face (it's a pretty face who is a talented martial artist). The problem becomes that if I wanted to post an actress from the 60's or 70's here it can be tough at the best of times. There just wasn't the need for "content" and to fill everyone's eyeballs 24/7 and what is there is often low quality. And that's talking about American stuff. Hollywood was the biggest machine in the world when it came to creating and promoting stars in 1966. Hong Kong was not, so finding stuff for Hong Kong actresses can be hard. So I have given up in the past but I decided that maybe I should get my shit together and get this done. The year 1966 was not a random grab, that is the year that Come Drink With Me came out and crowned Cheng Pei Pei a star. Many say she is the first female action star in the world and I won't dispute that because it isn't like I have someone else in mind and also she fucking rules. Some of the pictures here, the ones that look like they are from a movie, are stills from that movie cause I have to tell you, she is strikingly beautiful in that hat holding a sword. I may actually watch The Girl with the Thunderbolt Kicks tonight if I can't sleep again. It's better known now as Golden Swallow, which is the name of her character in that movie and Come Drink With Me but frankly this is one place where the translation does an amazing job. Anyway, Cheng Pei Pei was a major star and is in something like 150 movies. She and Kara Hui are just who I think of when I think of women in all those great Shaw Brothers classics. But she went beyond that. She's in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon which is a movie that really broke through in the west about 25 years ago and even won Oscars. And hey, for the truly young she's even in the live action Mulan, which was her final film role. Today I want to fuck Cheng Pei Pei.

[boardsdonthitback]

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

[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)

[kriegsgeist]

ᚦᛖ᛫ᛈᛁᚾᚾᛞ᛫ᛈᚩᛋᛏ

ᛣᚱᛁᛋ:XXIX

Welcome to my blog where I mostly post metal, animals, and stuff I think is cool. I'm just here to make friends. I'm not interested in being used for sex.

Age: 29

Likes/Interests: Heavy Metal, Languages, Writing, History, Animals, Mythology, Philosophy, Guitar

Languages I Can Communicate In (In order of competency, from best to worst): English (Native), Norwegian, German, Spanish

Languages I'm Studying: Norwegian, German, sometimes Finnish

Favorite Music Genres: Black Metal, Death Metal, Melodic Death Metal, Melodic Black Metal, Classical Music

Favorite Bands: Darkthrone, Dissection, Children of Bodom, Kalmah, Death, Judas Iscariot

Favorite Books: The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Crime And Punishment, Foundation, Dune

Favorite Movies: The Godfather, The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars (Just the George Lucas ones), Drunken Master 2, The Big Lebowski, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan

Favorite Shows: The Sopranos, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Favorite Video Games: Doom I + II (Originals), Ghost of Tsushima, Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Civilization series, Star Wars Battlefront: II (Original)

My writing sideblog is @den-dype-skogen. I also started a Neocities where I will be expressing my more obscure interests, which you may access here.

Previous url was hellhammerdeath. Selfies usually tagged with my current url.

Sometimes I stream video games or guitar from my Youtube channel. Occasionally I will use Twitch but I don't currently do that often.

I have a one-man black metal project called Dialectic Darkness that you can check out on Youtube or on Bandcamp.

I also have an electronic metal/video game music (Not sure how to classify this) project called Nebula Omega. All the music is on Bandcamp.

Mutuals can feel free to message me whenever.

[usoud-tournament]

Who would win in a fight to the death?

Info:

Optimus Prime: The 2010-2013 version from "Transformers Prime" Did a sick tire-kicking attack once according to Reddit. Strengths include hand cannons and hand blades, hand miniguns, a jetpack. Skilled in swordsmanship. Great strength, resilience, and agility. Great speed and jumping ability. Skilled tactician and leader. Able to disguise himself as a truck. Weaknesses include getting blown up by some sort of energy bomb?? Stubborn and willing to sacrifice himself for his friends.

Jackie Chan: The 1994 version from "Drunken Master II". Strengths include martial arts mastery and street-smart intelligence allowing him to think outside of the box in fights. Weaknesses include alcoholism.

[elegantsplendour]

Dance of the Empire

Chapter 6 Rules and Secrets

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen × Lannister! ofc x Aegon II Targaryen

Summary: On the feast of Prince Aegon's tenth name day, a dark-haired Lannister girl enchanted both Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra.

Ever since Lucerys Velaryon got away with taking Aemond's eye six years ago, it pained Queen Alicent every single day witnessing her drifting from her and the whole world, finding an escape in relentless studies and training. Lucerys Velaryon ripped way something more profound from his son that night. Is it possible that a woman could cast a light in the darkness in his life? Even after years imprisoned in the cold walls of Red Keep and familial duty, Alicent still had a shatter of hope that love had the power to heal even the deepest wounds. Or so she thought.

Sometimes, love can be just as destructive as hate.

Especially when her first-born son's suppressed feelings start to emerge; especially the politics of the realm rip away an all-consuming love; especially when demons of her second-son are unleashed by thirst of vengeance.

masterlist

Warnings: mild depiction of violence in this chapter.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @buglyberry @theroyaldixon @aemondx @heavenly1927 @apollonshootafar

Welcome to the Red Keep, a place where rulers decide the fate of millions, where the servants work at a relentless pace to satisfy the fast-paced demands of their masters, and where noble ladies engage in overwhelmingly stimulating conversations that revolve around the art of weaving while tasting culinary exuberance, where whispered tales travel like both poisonous smoke and intoxicating fragrance.

"Have you seen the dark-haired Lannister lady with Prince Aemond?

"It would be impossible not to. It seems like the Queen has made a successful match. I wager it must have been difficult finding a lady of Katherine Lannister's beauty and status for the prince. Given... his condition. Though I must say, Prince Aemond's courtship of Lady Katherine is quite passionate. My sister overheard from a maid that they have been spotted on Vhagar three times this moon. I, myself, have found them holding their hands in the library."

"Oh dear Lady Meera. That was nothing compared to what I have witnessed in the garden."

"Spill the tea, Alayne!"

"I saw Prince Aemond placing a cherry in her mouth and his fingers lingering on her lips."

"Gods be good. Many would deem such an act improper."

"You know what they say, the blood of the dragon runs hot. However, I do sympathize with Lady Katherine. It used to be an honour to marry a Targaryen, yet it seems that she has bound her life with a deformed."

"Don't be. She might carry the Lannister name, but her beauty is not of the House of the Lion. Her earthly features are a constant reminder of that disastrous marriage. Perhaps. Perhaps, she is the product of her late mother's indiscretion."

"That is a vile and dangerous speculation, my friend. But I have to admit, the idea of it: the Broken Prince and the Bastard Beauty. They do make a lovely match."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Unlike her usual attire, Katherine was dressed in a humble dark dress with a black cloak covering her head before exiting the gate of the Red Keep.

As she ventured into the maze-like warren of narrow streets of King's Landing, four men in shadows followed and observed her and those around's every move.

Four Red Cloaks disguised as peasants ensured her safety. After all, she was not foolish to navigate the most dangerous, like a lamb to the slaughter.

Although Katherine's features remained expressionless, her heart contorted in disgust at the sight unfolding before her.

Against one of the many decaying structures barely holding together against the weight of destitution, a drunken man was brutally coupling with a woman she was unsure of willing or not. Puddles of murky water gather in the uneven cobblestones while the foul stink of unrecognizable origins pervades her senses. Vile insults filled the air while pickpockets terrorized the streets.

Suddenly, a wave of cheering grappled her attention. The screams consisted of screams of cheering, disappointment and whimpers of excruciating pain. She gave a signal to her closest bodyguard and entered the chaotic building.

Hidden under her cloak, she weaved her way through the putrid stench and rowdy drunks, squeezing between leering men and scantily clad harlots, desperately trying to suppress her gag reflex from the noxious blend of sweat and stink of their mouths. At last, she reached the epicenter of the raucous uproar, only to witness a chilling sight that sent shivers down her spine. Malnourished children, barely reaching her waist, their skeletal frames exposed, their teeth and nails sharpened to grotesque points, engaged in a brutal battle like savage beasts. With each sickening blow, they toppled one another, painting the scene in a gruesome mosaic of flesh and blood.

While her eyes lingered on the brutal scene, her mind wandered elsewhere.

Greens.

Blacks.

With King Viserys' deteriorating health, the unspoken tension in court and across the realm continued to aggravate.

Who will inherit the Iron Throne? She questioned.

Rhaenyra, the King's named heir?

Or Aegon, the heir by the "order of things."

To Katherine, it made no difference. Both orders would lead to one path, the one that forged the obscenity in front of her.

It had been two moons since she arrived in King's Landing, and she had seen Prince Aegon three times.

The first was their first encounter, during which he goaded his brother into bedding her.

The second was her witnessing him, drunken and mumbling profanities, dragged to his chamber by Ser Errek.

The third was, Aemond striking him down in the training yard in word-for-word 10 blows.

As for Princess Rhaenyra, while discontent about her accepting Aemond's courtship, their correspondence remained consistent and intimate.

As grateful as Katherine was for her somewhat motherly presence in her life, she could not help but to sigh regretfully at her decision to reside in Dragonstone for six whole years, distancing from the ever-changing political landscaping of King's Landing. Doing so has given the lords and ladies who once swore fealty to her switch allegiance.

Rhaenyra once told her that once she becomes Queen, she would create a new order. Back then, Katherine felt a fierce admiration for her aspiration. Looking back now, she sees both entitlements and oaths were nothing but hollow promises: one has to earn and fight for the right to create their own rules, man or woman, especially a woman.

If only someone worthy could claim the Iron Throne.

Someone with an unstoppable strength, with a strategic mind, unapologetic and unafraid to turn over the table if they deem the latter being a mess.

Someone

Someone

Someone like Aemond.

Her hands squeezed the fabric of her robe as his name echoed in her mind. The sweetness of the memory of that afternoon in the garden and the raw scent of blood in the arena composed a perplexing mishmash in her head.

"Duty, honour and family are my motto," Aemond had declared, his voice calm, his gaze still fixed on the pages of "The Fires of the Freehold."

Duty to a family that treats me like a broodmare, enslaved by an illusion called honour. Never.

A sly curve tugged at her lips,

"I knew you wouldn't have it any other way, Aemond, yet I wager many could question tricking your opponent by feigning your defeat is the most honourable way to win a duel, especially the opponent being your uncle Gwayne."

"In a battle, there is no deceit," he lifted his head, "All is fair."

"I say you prefer to win regardless of the rules."

Aemond chuckled," Says the lady who believes her only duty is to herself."

She asked carefully, "Do you ever wish to make your own rules?"

A long silence ruled between them.

Katherine wished to unravel his carefully wrapped facade of faith, composure and duty. She wished him to say yes. Her heart pleaded to say yes.

"I follow the rules to make my own. So yes, I do," Aemond finally broke the silence, his tone soft yet unwavering and his one violet eye unreadable, transmitting a steadfast resolution that quickened her heartbeat.

Aemond furrowed his brow, a chuckle tumbled free from his lips as he leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ears, "But you already know that, don't you? Little lioness? "

Taken back and slightly flushed, she swallowed and met his eye, ready to retort. But before she could say anything, his long fingers rested on her lips, "Close your eyes," his voice at once commanding and assuring.

She did.

For a fleeting moment, she expected him to kiss her and damn codes of propriety.

She gasped in surprise at the sensation of his large hands hovering over the back of her neck, gently closing the distance between them, "Open your mouth."

Her lips trembled as she hesitantly obliged. With her eyes closed, all she could feel was the radiating heat of his breath.

Her tongue detected a small, spherical object, tenderly placed upon it. She savoured the taste, instantly recognizing the sweet tang of a perfectly ripened cherry. In that moment, conflicting desires surged within her. One part yearned to prolong the exquisite vulnerability, surrendering entirely to his touch in the obscurity of darkness. Yet, another part longed to seize control, turning the tables and leaving him at her mercy.

Aemond x Katherine (generated by AI)

Just a sudden, a loud, deafening cheering and the forceful jostling of the nearby hulking man brought her back to reality. A youthful roar reverberated in the arena: a bold boy had just knocked his scrawny opponent unconscious, whom had been carried out by a man.

"We should leave at once, my lady," one of the guards suggested.

Katherine swallowed, "We shall," she slowly retreated from the centre of the mob and whispered, "in the days to come, disguise yourself as peasants and find out about who are the beneficiaries of this arena and report everything back to me. Spare the poor children some food and clothing. But do not leave any trace of House Lannister's involvement."

While she exhaled in relaxation while withdrawing from the horrifying spectacle, her eyes widened her figure exiting from the door of the building on the other side of the street.

Prince Aegon.

Prince Aegon Fucking Targaryen, eyes red and bleary, though body stumbling yet still mumbling explicit profanity to the giggling half-naked women.

Momentarily, they stayed frozen before Katherine enclosed her features in her cloak, but it was too late.

"Lady Katherine Lannister," Aegon immediately chased after her and burst into a grin, "The Exquisitely Odd Lannister," he continued, leaning to her earlobe, "My brother's precious little jewel, venturing alone in Flea Bottom. Who knew?"

Katherine pushed his head in annoyance, "You stink of ale and wine, my prince. And please, I am not stupid, four Red Cloaks are observing my every move as we speak," she covered her nose in a mixture of distaste and amusement, "You look like you have been through Seven Hells and back."

"More like Seven Heavens, my lady," Aegon smirked, "The women here possess more, let's say, exoticism, than the ones on the Street of Silk. What were you looking for? Some forbidden adventures, or pleasure?

Katherine rolled her eyes, "Spare me the details, Aegon," she fastened her pace and mumbled, "The people of this city are living like dogs, perhaps even worse."

Aegon's face contorted in amused confusion, "Why do you care? You are a lion. I am the prince of the blood."

She raised her brows, "Haven't you heard the saying? The water can drown the fleet just as much as it can carry it."

"You sound like my mother," Aegon halted his words, his playful tone imperceptibly turned grave, "I was never the one who built the fleet you speak of, nor did I choose to be born in it.

Taking a corner where a stone dragon on the wall breathed flame, he murmured, "If watching it drown means to be free of its grasp, then be it."

Katherine's eyes widened at his statement. She opened her mouth to speak but could not find the right words.

Being free of the grasp of her family, it sounded like a dream. "You have a dragon, Aegon. Don't you tell me that you haven't thought about escaping the chains of your life," she swatted his arm teasingly, "It's a privilege I do not share, yet here you are, bedding the most beautiful whores and drinking the finest wines. Maybe, you enjoy the privileges of this fleet a little bit too much."

Aegon laughed at her comment. "And what privileges are you searching for in the most dangerous and dirtiest parts of the city?" He leaned closer and whispered, "Don't tell me it's pleasure," he frowned, "You know, if that is what you desire, all you have to do is ask."

"In your wildest dreams, you incorrigible wastrel," she chuckled, pushing him away playfully.

"But in all seriousness," she locked eyes with him, "The small folk, they may not be as glamorous as dragons and thrones, but they're the ones who will ultimately decide our fate. And I prefer to be the master of my own."

"So this is what all your little adventure was about? Surveying public sentiment?" Aegon said sarcastically, shaking his head in disappointment.

"And figuring out ways to improve their livelihood," she nodded, "The greatest stronghold lies within the hearts of the people. No matter how many fortresses you possess, they offer no protection if you're despised by the masses."

Out of the blue, a wagon full of fruit slipped down Rhaenys Hill while a merchant shrieked out for help. Aegon gripped Katherine's arm instinctively from the path of the racing cart.

"Wow, that was something," she caught her breath, "Thank you."

"That," he teased, "Katherine, is what happens when poor ladies busy themselves lecturing a prince and do not even notice a speeding wagon coming at them."

"I guess you're right. I guess we are even now. I saved you from a horse. You saved me from a wagon," she chuckled.

The way to the gate of the Red Keep was rather silent. Both of them are immersed in their turbulent thoughts,

"Aegon, I don't want Aemond to know my whereabouts today," Katherine turned to face him as they were about to part ways.

Aegon tried to read her expression but at no avail, "If that's what you want, Katherine. It will be our little secret."

But why? Katherine? I thought you told each other everything?

[prestigious-subclasses]

Prestige Classes

In D&D 3.5, there are almost 300 prestige classes. Shouldn't they all be converted to D&D 5e subclasses? No. No they should not. And yet, here we are. Some prestige classes are ... weird and so might be converted to something other than a subclass, if at all.

A breakdown is below the cut.

Core Subclasses

Arcane Archer

Arcane Trickster

Archmage

Assassin

Blackguard

Dragon Disciple

Duelist

Dwarven Defender

Eldritch Knight

Hierophant

Horizon Walker

Loremaster

Mystic Theurge

Red Wizard

Shadowdancer

Thaumaturgist

Psionic

Cerebremancer

Elocater

Fist of Zuoken

Illithid Slayer

Metamind

Psion Uncarnate

Pyrokineticist

Thrallherd

War Mind

Complete Champion

Fist of the Forest

Forest Reeve

Holt Warden

Mythic Exemplar

Ordained Champion

Paragnostic Apostle

Paragnostic Initiate

Sanctified One

Shadowspy

Shadowstriker

Squire of Legend

Complete Mage

Abjurant Champion

Eldritch Disciple

Eldritch Theurge

Enlightened Spirit

Holy Scourge

Lyric Thaumaturge

Master Specialist

Nightmare Spinner

Ultimate Magus

Unseen Seer

Wild Soul

Complete Psionic

Anarchic Initiate

Ebon Saint

Ectopic Adept

Flayerspawn Psychic

Illumine Soul

Soulbow

Storm Disciple

Zerth Cenobite

Complete Scoundrel

Avenging Executioner

Battle Trickster

Cloaked Dancer

Combat Trapsmith

Fortune's Friend

Gray Guard

Magical Trickster

Malconvoker

Master of Masks

Mountebank

Psibond Agent

Spellwarp Sniper

Uncanny Trickster

Complete Warrior

Bear Warrior

Bladesinger

Cavalier

Dark Hunter

Darkwood Stalker

Dervish

Drunken Master

Exotic Weapon Master

Eye of Gruumsh

Frenzied Berserker

Gnome Giant-Slayer

Halfling Outrider

Hulking Hurler

Hunter of the Dead

Invisible Blade

Justiciar

Kensai

Knight of the Chalice

Knight Protector

Master of the Unseen Hand

Master Thrower

Mindspy

Nature’s Warrior

Occult Slayer

Order of the Bow Initiate

Purple Dragon Knight

Rage Mage

Ravager

Reaping Mauler

Ronin

Spellsword

Stonelord

Tattooed Monk

Thayan Knight

War Chanter

Warshaper

Cityscape

Ebonmar Infiltrator

Crimson Scourge

Urban Savant

Dungeonscape

Beast Heart Adept

Dungeon Lord

Trapsmith

Sandstorm

Ashworm Dragoon

Lord of Tides

Sand Shaper

Scion of Tem-Et-Nu

Scorpion Heritor

Walker in the Waste

Drow of the Underdark

Arachnomancer

Cavestalker

Demonbinder

Dread Fang of Lolth

Eye of Lolth

Insidious Corrupter

Kinslayer

Fiendish Codex II

Hellbreaker

Hellfire Warlock

Hellreaver

Soulguard

Book of Exalted Deeds

Anointed Knight

Apostle of Peace

Beloved of Valarian

Celestial Mystic

Champion of Gwynharwyf

Defender of Sealtiel

Emissary of Barachiel

Exalted Arcanist

Fist of Raziel

Initiate of Pistis Sophia

Lion of Talisid

Prophet of Erathaol

Risen Martyr

Sentinel of Bharrai

Skylord

Slayer of Domiel

Stalker of Kharash

Swanmay

Sword of Righteousness

Troubadour of Stars

Vassal of Bahamut

Wonderworker

Dragon Magic

Diamond Dragon

Dragon Descendant

Dragon Lord

Hand of the Winged Masters

Pact-bound Adept

Swift Wing

Wyrm Wizard

Miniatures Handbook

Bonded Summoner

Dragon Samurai

Havoc Mage

Skullclan Hunter

Tactical Soldier

War Hulk

Warchief

Tome of Battle

Bloodclaw Master

Bloodstorm Blade

Deepstone Sentinel

Eternal Blade

Jade Phoenix Mage

Master of Nine

Ruby Knight Vindicator

Shadow Sun Ninja

Underdark

Arachnomancer

Cavelord

Deep Diviner

Drow Judicator

Illithid Body Tamer

Imaskari Vengeance Taker

Inquisitor of the Drowning Goddess

Prime Underdark Guide

Sea Mother Whip

Shadowcrafter

Vermin Keeper

Yathchol Webrider

Epic

Agent Retriever

Cosmic Descryer

Divine Emissary

Epic Infiltrator

Guardian Paramount

High Proselytizer

Legendary Dreadnought

Perfect Wight

Union Sentinel