#Sorcerer Supreme in deed if no in word

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

I wanted to highlight the things that most hit home. But then I realized it would be EVERYTHING.

Wish we could gather outside Marvel studios with torches and pitchforks. And maybe bring a lawsuit to keep anyone but Scott Derrickson & Benedict Cumberbatch from having creative input into DS III.

Just going to warn you now not to look up anything with the last episode of What If because you'll absolutely despise it lmao. It's not great.

Too late! 😜

I read a summary of the episode and it is the most ridiculous thing I've read in a long time. I had heard the rumours prior to the release of the season but nothing could prepare me for this. So, Stephen was the villain all along and for... *checks notes*... his obsession with Christine. Again. Wow, so creative. Is there anything to Stephen beyond her? According to the Marvel writers, nope.

It's not like his arc was focused on that in S1 and it got a wonderful conclusion in the finale. Nah, they have to ruin yet another Stephen variant so that they can confirm what the Illuminati said in MoM. Because the Illuminati were such good guys, you see. They were always right.

Stephen is no more than a threat, the same Stephen who had such capacity for goodness that the Ancient One herself was willing to risk her life for him. The same woman who said Stephen is the best of all of them. The same Stephen who chooses to sacrifice his hands and live in pain 24/7 just out of fear of reverting back to who he used to be at the hospital. The same Stephen who sacrifices everything, including his own life, to save people. The same guy who saw his reality be destroyed before his own two eyes and vowed to spend eternity protecting the Multiverse. That same guy is taken on a character regression and goes back to his obsession in S1 as if he had learnt nothing.

Awesome, that's just... great. It would bother me less if MoM had treated him right, addressed his pain and his suffering, and actually cared to focus on him. But this is more salt in the wound. And these guys are preparing a third Strange movie... my, my. If it's not with Scott Derrickson, then I don't want to see it.

Thank you for the warning though, you're too kind 😉

[maxislvt]

heyy, how u doing

okay, i literally can't stop thinking about sorcerer!reader being heads over heels for scarlet witch wanda, and them working together as a duo and top wanda fucking reader so good for being such a good accomplice

if you're still accepting requests, i would totally love reading something with this prompt

warnings: smut, strap on (r receiving), pet play, manipulation

The Scarlet Witch first came to you in a dream.

One that was sensual in a somewhat unnerving way. You laid stiff in a field. You were unable to move and forced to watch as a figure approached. The witch whispered to you in a language you couldn't understand as she caressed your face. You would've enjoyed it had you noticed the darkness corrupting the smooth ivory skin of her fingers. It was easily the longest dream you'd ever had.

It was so jarring that you opted not to tell anyone. Maybe another sorcerer had taken a liking to you and was playing tricks to catch your attention. Odd dreams were a side effect of several spells. You figured there wasn't anything to worry about.

That was until she arrived at the Kamar-Taj. The witch's appearance raised many questions for you, but you were given the mission to protect the girl. America Chavez's safety came first. It was supposed to anyway. As you helped keep the forcefield around the temple, things began to change around. Everywhere you looked — the Scarlet Witch was there — but you stayed focused. Unfortunately, not all of your fellow sorcerers were as strong willed. The force field eventually broke and you suddenly collapsed before you could start fighting.

Everything before your arrival at Wundagore was a blur. You awoke surrounded by dead or barely breathing sorcerers and Wong about to be taken by the witch. Without even thinking, you offered yourself in place of Wong. You didn't have a plan when you offered yourself up. Wong was the Sorcerer Supreme, you were just a sorcerer. The Kamar-Taj was in no place to find another Sorcerer Supreme.

It was that very self-deprecating way of thinking that led to you falling into the arms of the Scarlet Witch. The Scarlet Witch gave you a purpose. Wanda gave you a purpose. You were no longer just some sorcerer. You were the loyal pet of the Scarlet Witch. Wanda was always keen on rewarding that loyalty.

"You're such a good pet for me." Wanda's voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke. You were always so fragile in that headspace. The fear of failure loomed over your head even in your most submissive state. She had to guide you through everything. "You're such a good little pup for me, aren't you?"

You leaned into Wanda's hand as she cupped your face. "I'm your pup," You whispered dreamily. The chill in her fingers no longer bothered you. They'd been blackened to match their evil deeds, but they were always so gentle with you. It was those same fingers that lovingly squeezed the skin of your thighs before slipping inside. They stretched you out with such care every time. In slowly, then out just as torturously slow. "I need you so bad, please."

An amused laugh fell from her lips. "You've been so needy lately. Is my puppy not getting enough attention?" She teased but complied with your request. Wanda let out a throaty moan as she eased the tip of her strap inside you. "You're always so wet and sticky. I think you're better off just being my little plaything. What do you think?" You're in no position to respond and she knows it. "What's that baby? I don't understand whining."

All you could do was let out another moan as she bottomed out. You were addicted to being stretched out. It didn't matter if Wanda was gentle or left you limping the next day. Your hips rocked back and forth desperately trying to meet Wanda's thrust. "I'll, ah, I'll be…I'll be anything you want." That was the last proper sentence you said that night.

"Anything?" Wanda asked excitedly. Her thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit. Anything was a dangerous word with her. Even more dangerous considering she loved you. Her free hand guided your frantic hips into a slower pace to match her own. "So you'd let me destroy that little ring of yours and keep you trapped here forever just to use you as a cumdump?" She giggled as you feebly extended your hand to summon the ring. "You're such a devoted little pet, but we'll save that for later." She let go of your hip to hold your hand.

Your fingers interlocked with Wanda's instinctively. It was the small, intimate things that kept you grounded. Every orgasm Wanda gave you was intense. Your legs shook and the little bit of control you had over yourself was gone. Relief rushed over your body as the knot finally broke. Every noise that you made was a desperate plea.

Wanda didn’t bother slowing down. She was far from done with your body. “Ah, ah, ah,” She gasped, mocking the noises you made. “I know it hurts, but I need to cum too. Don’t be a greedy slut.” She gripped your face forcing you to look at her. She grunted as she pushed impossibly deeper inside of you. You looked so pathetic underneath her. It was hard for her to control the urge to ruin you so soon. “I promise you we can take a break when I finish.”

Of course, you should have known better than to trust a witch.

[hail-brod]

A Chance and Beyond (2)

Previous chapter: (Chapter 1)

Next chapter: (Chapter 3)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Loki x FReader

Warning/s: I think none

WC: 2.8k

Just a simple and lighthearted conversation with the Sorcerer Supreme that actually seemed too off-putting and...Strange. But at least you got to bond with a certain God. Or Gods? Also, information-prying is now a thing and you can't really refuse.

One of the things that you've learned so far in this time-reality is that their Loki is too... complacent.

At least too complacent than the one in your timeline.

But that sense of familiarity waving through you when you meet his observing gaze, albeit without the light-hearted glimmer that you're accustomed to, was proving to be hard to admit. In your chest, a pang of sadness dwells. Serving as another reminder that everyone you've known and grew up with are existent nowhere and you're the only one left with memories of a whole reality.

You try to choke it up like a habit that you just realize you often do.

For the meantime, do focus on what's ahead. You tell yourself.

Out of nowhere, you took notice of the sound of a slight clattering beside you only to see a tray with a meal that for a few seconds, you thought was unreal, until you did inhale the smell that brought your appetite to escalate. How long has it been since you've eaten? Now that you think about it, you have only been scraping for one of those Midgardian dessert bars in some other timeline before the time-slip incident. And not to mention, you've managed to even consider stealing at least one decent meal from a place filled with young Midgardian people.

Well, you did steal by disguising yourself as one of them but the catch is—the meal wasn't so decently normal. It was ungratifying.

What Midgardians feed to their younglings is starting to concern you. And what also concerns you is how the meal before you is looking better than the ones they feed children.

What is wrong with this realm?

"I take it you're not fond of human food?" you turn to look and you see Strange outside of your cell, one hand lifted as if he had just motioned for something.

"It's not that..." you start. "Well, perhaps, a bit so just recently but this would suffice. Unless, this is added with something else meant to annihilate me."

Strange cranks his head to the side with his eyes still darted on you. "None of the sort."

You try to dig in but you halted in the process, feeling that the sorcerer has something else to say. For a few moments, you gave each other time to think before Strange spoke again. "You are an Asgardian sorcerer just like your Young Prince. Or is he not a prince in your so-called reality?"

You eye him with just a tinge of caution. "Why? Are you worried that I'll do the mistake of 'one wrong step'? Because I don't intend to end up somewhere else when-"

Your body distorts.

Eyes tightly shut, you open it and brought your eyes back at his now frowning face. "-...Precisely."

He looked hesitant to continue but he did so anyway. "You seem to know some of us. Or rather, who and what they are made out to be. You know of their endeavors and previous deeds. I'm afraid you'd have to elaborate more of your hidden knowledge for us to trust you since it doesn't seem so reassuring that someone like you knows what you shouldn't be knowing." he says, but the way he averted his eyes from your words just proved your suspicions.

"Or what do you intend to do if I don't?" you retort, almost so with a hint of softness in your tone as you call out. "...Loki."

You didn't eye his form any longer and indulged yourself at just the sight of your meal, getting colder as the seconds pass by. It was easy to discern for you that the God of Mischief was the one conversing with you the moment he wavered his eyes when you mentioned about being like him and deemed him as someone prone to doing 'the wrong step'.

If you know someone well enough, then it's never hard to rile them up like old friends. You almost brought a small smile up at the thought of breaking up one of his many facade.

"I beg- Excuse me?" you hear him ask, making the mistake of blurting out the phrase you've heard him say a thousand times in your life. Perhaps, a million times you'd wager. I beg your pardon? You mock him in your head.

"You're through." you reply as you made the turn to glance at him, still in his disguise as the Midgardian sorcerer. Though, you didn't miss the irritation that he so desperately tried to hide. One thought came to you and you did just that. Lifting a single hand in front of you, you amass the feeling of magic before flicking your wrist in his direction which diffused the illusion of his disguise. He didn't even managed to react in time as his hands were only inches away from his sides, too late to counter.

His expression tell every bit of what he felt. Contorting to shock, confusion, and appalled in just mere moments before he narrowed his eyes to you with great annoyance.

You fight the urge to give out a grin of triumph. You don't want to cause a sorcerous scene now, do you? Even though you'd perfectly win when pitted against him.

"I..." he starts, though his expression fades to a tamer one, completely dissipating any traces of annoyance, but you're sure the prickling rage is still there. "..am going to allow that."

He is mad. Truly. You shut your lips tight.

You certainly have to remember that this is a Loki that did not know you. This is someone who's willing to strangle you up without any restraints or glare at you with the utmost intent of murder and not with tease.

Yet, it still does shock you how he manages to control his temper and be intimidating at the same time.

"Pardon me." you humbled him. "But trying to deceive me into telling you what I'm clearly obligated to tell Strange is not pardoned."

"I don't trust you."

"Don't you all?"

"I don't trust you more than they do."

You glanced at him as you lightheartedly say. "Of course..."

He's Loki. A God who betrays, a God who cannot be trusted, a God who cannot bear to trust. Back in your timeline, he had that very definition amongst the people of Asgard. But when you befriended him, you saw him in a different light and witnessed him grow into someone different from everything they had known him for. Someone who was able to believe in others.

But at this moment, which is which? For a fact that he's with the Avengers, maybe he's someone more different. You cannot be too sure.

"You speak as if you truly know me." Loki voices out. "Who are you?"

Your heart numbs, bringing your attention away from his stern expression. "Like I said, an Asgardian from a different reality."

"I did not ask what you are. You have much secrets to tell if you keep stalling your answers like that."

"Well, you did say you did not trust me. Explicitly. How can you trust the words that you demand me to utter? Now that you ought to deny my own words to your question."

It took him some time before answering with a narrowed stare. "Clever... but, you don't really give me the sensible answers that I deem fitting to believe."

"Fair enough." you nod.

At that given time, you caught on his change expression from disapproval to a blank one. You resisted the urge to just chuckle with much jolly at the interaction. One that perfectly felt like nostalgia and you can't help but strain a small smile at nowhere in particular.

A sudden cough brought you back to a pair of crystalline blue eyes which was Loki's. "You seem to find something funny."

"Forgive me," you lightly apologize. "I got distracted." he then eyed you suspiciously, but not as fierce as it came out to be. Oddly, he hums in acknowledgement.

"I think it's best that I end it here. Having you distracted and... " he says, moving to turn around but not without a one last glance at you. "...and starving and all, won't be of use to me."

For some other reason, you feel dread.

Don't go.

"Wait." you let out. He did stop, moving his body to the side as he looks at you with a raised brow. "Eat with me?"

The moment you grinned at him teasingly when his eyes faltered with a slight shock, to which he immediately masked with a fierce dead look, was when you heard something clatter behind you only to see that the tray of food was gone.

As well as Loki.

Thank the Norns that somehow the tray was given back to you but instead of Loki materializing it back, it was a Midgardian-dressed Thor who came strutting in with the said food.

Along with him was, surely, the real Doctor Strange.

The two men didn't miss the way you abruptly stood up from your position the moment they came into view. For a second there, they looked alarmed at your actions, sensing that something must've happened. But when you intently eyed the tray on Thor's grasp with such eagerness, they realized the relieved expression you had.

Strange cocks a brow at you then at the meal before landing back to you. "You must be famished."

"That is an understatement." you almost mumble, awkwardly avoiding his stare.

"Then you are fortunate, my lady." Thor says. You were quite taken aback when he gives you a radiant smile. "I have here a Midgardian delicacy, made from the, uh... whatever it is they put in there to hopefully appease your needs." he then lifts it up to emphasize.

It took you a moment before you gave him a smile. Softness radiates in your chest as you take a deeper realization. His upbringing in this reality is...

"Thank you." you reply.

You didn't miss the way his smile falters at your look. Spotting a sentiment that you can't quite point out.

The other left man speaks. "This must be what they call the kinship between Asgardians." Strange watches the interaction with crossed arms, a steady expression adorning his face. "Unfortunately, as much as I want you both to catch up, kin-to-kin, I have matters to discuss regarding the threat you may pose," he looks at you. "and the knowledge we might need."

From a carefree smile to a frown, Thor sets his attention to Strange. "Yes, of course, but let her eat first."

The said man rolls his eye before turning his feet to walk to a darker corner, almost somewhere you can't see and.... he busies himself with magic. It was clear that the wizard was in a stingy mood and you could only slightly quirk up in amusement.

"Sorry about that." Thor sets the tray somewhere in the wall outside your cell as it soon juts out in a corner near you. Ah, technology. Before you could rush to it, you look at Thor.

"There's no need for that, but again, thank you."

"It's a pleasure to be of service."

Taking the tray out from the wall, you turn to him, chuckling. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

You immediately regret it when his expression completely falls, gaze no longer on you. It felt truly odd for you to see him revert to that look. Not that you ever saw him that way in this time-reality but when you witnessed the kind of smile he had, you can't help but ache seeing him forlorn in a way.

And you can't help but also miss the brief light you'd seen in his eyes. Something cracks in you.

"I'm sorry." you start. "Was I wrong?"

"No no, you're fine. I just..." he says, hesitance in his tone. "I should be better."

You look at him in question, tilting your head to the side. Nonetheless, he didn't gave you a chance to reply as he continued. "Anyway, you enjoy your meal." he nods. "I've kept you long enough seeing that you've been undoubtedly eager to dine."

He gave you one last smile that immediately disappears as he fumbles with his fingers, looking uncertain. You bring out at least a bit of optimism by faintly giggling albeit feeling the embarrassment at his remarks of your starving manner. But you don't dwell further.

"Company is fine. You are not particularly unpleasant to be around as it may seem." you inform him. "Unlike someone else cruel enough to take what's not rightfully his." you mumble the last part, though it did not fall on deaf ears.

"Who is?" Thor quirks up with a frown.

"Oh, nothing. Just someone I know."

"I.. I see." he utters. "Seems like someone I would also know."

You catch each other's eyes as you both break out in smiles. But soon, his brows creases in realization. His eyes go wide when he did. "Loki?" you lightly laugh at him as he speaks again. "What...? Did he visit you here or something? Has he done anything to you?"

"You have nothing to be worried about." you try to ease him. "Just a short talk."

"If it's Loki then it's never a good talk even if it's short."

"Valid."

"So was it bad? Perhaps unbearable?" he asks.

You glance at your meal, recalling the interaction with the raven-haired God as you muse. Fondness leaks out of you. "Yes..." you reply. "Unbearable."

Though, before Thor could retort at your worrisome response, you strain out a small smile. All words die at his throat. But conflict was clear in his expression.

"Thor?" you call as he turns his eyes back to you, trying to hide a tinge of his discomfort. This time, you smile at him with the same radiance you had seen on him earlier. "You're more than better." you say before gobbling your awaiting Midgardian delicacy to your heart's content.

Unbeknownst to you, the said God breaks his composure for split second as he gazes at you in pain and in wonder.

"You seem fine." Strange observes you, ambling his way near your transparent cell. "No toss and turning of your skin whatsoever."

Actually, he has a point. After you had finish your meal with Thor lightly chatting with you as he sat somewhere near you cell, there was no instance of time-slipping. Even when during your conversation with his younger brother, excluding the first one you had at the start, you were no longer breaking ap-

Your body starts to break apart and distort.

"Or not." you reply to him.

You shut your eyes tightly as you feel your frustration build up at the thought of this misery. But you also consider the clawing fact that if you had stopped time-slipping, you'll remain in this time-reality forever. You wouldn't say you dislike where you are but you don't think it's beneficial to stay in a branched timeline when your entourage of TVA companions are risking their lives for... well, everything.

You see Strange furrow his brows as if he just crossed something out of his thoughts. "Alright, something's different." he says, he lifts a chin to stare at you. "When was the last time you time-slipped?"

Hesitating, you answer. "Uh, well... a few moments prior to your arrival with Thor?"

"And? Did anything happen that might cause this?" he asks.

"I... don't think so?"

He narrows his eyes at you. "Mhm." he then turns away to the side, inhaling. "Let's see what you have to say then."

One moment and in a blink of an eye, you find yourself adjusting in a much darker lighting and with grey walls. Very contrasting from where you were just a second ago. But the space was much smaller, almost cramped at your sides although enough for two people to fit with a decent amount of space. You were seated on a cold metallic chair and in front of you was the man responsible for all this.

"Well," you start, disoriented. "this is much preferable than falling."

"You don't really have a choice when you're a prisoner here." he casually says, feeling as if you can get use to his very stern mannerisms. "Now," he slowly struts towards you. "Why travel in time in the first place? I know you said it's not time-travelling and you never really mentioned what exactly it is but what's the motive there?"

"Ah..." you breathe in as you try to hold his stare. "Yes, you're right. Not time-travelling... in a way, and this is purely not within my whims." you begin slowly, looking him dead in the eye with concern and anticipation. "If I tell you this, there's no going back."

He holds his gaze, staring down at you. But you didn't miss the rising of his chest, inhaling, preparing. "The point of no return is something I already encompassed."

At that, you tell him. "Let's start with the TVA."

Previous chapter: (Chapter 1)

Next chapter: (Chapter 3)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Ko-fi?

[pinkthick]

I just need someone too

Pairing: (minor) Doctor Strange Supreme/Christine Palmer

Doctor Strange Supreme & Uatu| The Watcher

Summary: The monsters' voices seized the opportunity, injecting doubt and self-loathing into his fractured psyche. "You're dangerous, a threat to all realities," they whispered malevolently. Stephen's hands shook as he vehemently denied their accusations, trying to drown their voices. “You don’t deserve anyone.” they jeered, a relentless chorus that fueled his internal chaos.

In the eerie confines of his pocket dimension, Doctor Strange Supreme grappled with the wailing of voices echoing through his mind. The melded creatures and demons within him clamored relentlessly, their collective whispers taunting his sanity. The Watcher had abandoned him, leaving Stephen to drown in the increasing discord. Their anger and whispers grew louder, drowning out any semblance of peace and every attempt to silence the creatures proved futile, their demands becoming more insistent. "Let us control you," they hissed, weaving a web of doubt around Stephen's fractured mind. The struggle within him intensified, a battle between the remnants of his humanity and the monstrous forces vying for dominance.

Desperation crept into Stephen's heart as he yearned for anyone’s guidance. Why did everyone leave him? His composure shattered like glass. Tears streamed down his face as he paced feverishly, the distorted echoes of his cries reverberating in the desolate pocket dimension. The twisted amalgamation of creatures and demons within him whispered louder, feeding on his unraveling sanity.

"I helped them, didn't I?" Stephen's voice cracked, choked with anguish. He clutched at his head, feeling the weight of a thousand creatures clawing at the recesses of his consciousness. The realization of his own mistakes bore down on him, leaving him teetering on the edge of madness. "Why didn't the Watcher ask if I wanted to go to another universe too?” he screamed into the void, the pocket dimension trembling in response. He knows he could easily get out, to another universe—but that wasn’t the point. “ Maybe I just needed someone to care!”

The monsters' voices seized the opportunity, injecting doubt and self-loathing into his fractured psyche. "You're dangerous, a threat to all realities," they whispered malevolently. Stephen's hands shook as he vehemently denied their accusations, trying to drown their voices. “You don’t deserve anyone.” they jeered, a relentless chorus that fueled his internal chaos.

"Monsters don't deserve care from people.

Each step he took felt like an eternity, the monsters' voices becoming a deafening roar drowning out reason. The remnants of his past deeds haunted him – the arrogance, the mistakes, the thirst for power. He was trapped in a never-ending loop of self-condemnation. "Why did I let this happen?" Stephen wailed, his voice a desperate plea for reprieve. The monsters reveled in his vulnerability, exploiting every crack in his fractured psyche. "You're alone because you deserve to be," they hissed, their words like venomous tendrils wrapping around his sanity. The once mighty sorcerer collapsed to his knees, the weight of his perceived monstrosity too much to bear.

"I—deserve care too, don't I?" he begged, a pitiful plea lost in the void. Do you really? Tears streaked down his face as he wrestled with the realization that he might truly be beyond redemption.

The monsters just mocked him, amplifying his deepest fears. "You thought you could play god, but you're just a wretched creature. No one will ever care for a monster like you!"

That’s not true—he isn’t a monster. He isn’t.

He heard a scoff and his desperate gaze fixed on the reflective surface of the pocket dimension's wall. Two versions of himself stared back, one consumed by despair and tears, the other stoic and unyielding. The juxtaposition ignited a furious spark within him. "Why aren't you crying?" he seethed at the composed version of himself. The stoic reflection regarded him with a cold detachment that only fueled Stephen's rage. "We're the same person! How can you look at me with such disgust?"

His fists collided with the reflective surface, the impact echoing through the pocket dimension. The wall cracked slightly, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue "How dare you judge me?" Stephen screamed at his own reflection, the air crackling with a volatile energy. The distorted image sneered back, a grotesque mockery of the sorcerer's own visage.

The cracked wall oozed with an otherworldly substance, and Stephen's widening eyes fixated on the unsettling sight of blood seeping through the fractures. Horror painted his expression as he recoiled, stumbling backward. The monsters' whispers escalated, celebrating the tangible evidence of his inner torment. Panicking, Stephen scrutinized his trembling hands, only to discover claws extended from his fingertips. He stared, aghast, at the cruel amalgamation of man and monster.

Stephen's tortured world suddenly shifted as a sweet, haunting giggle echoed through the pocket dimension. His bloodshot eyes darted around, seeking the source, until he reluctantly turned back to the cracked wall, now stained with his blood. There, amidst the grotesque reflection, stood Christine with an ethereal smile. The sight sent shivers down his spine as her voice, laced with a mixture of warmth and mockery, reached his ears. "Evening, handsome," she cooed, the words dripping with an unsettling sweetness. A pang of guilt and longing gripped Stephen's heart. "Christine, I'm so sorry," he stammered, the weight of his sins pressing upon him.

Christine's ethereal smile remained, a soothing balm "What are you even apologizing for, silly?" Her voice, a melodic whisper, echoed in the pocket dimension. Her spectral form seemed to glow with a warmth that Stephen desperately craved. The sorcerer, torn between reality and illusion, let out a breathy chuckle. His hand reached towards the wall, attempting to bridge the gap between them. Yet, as his fingers touched the surface, a disconcerting absence greeted him. The ethereal connection remained one-sided, his touch met with a vacant emptiness. “I... I don't know. Everything, I suppose," he admitted.

Christine's hand pressed against the wall too, a gesture that made Stephen’s heart jump. "I've missed you," she murmured, her gaze lingering on his haunted eyes. "I’ve missed you too" Stephen confessed, his gaze locked with Christine's phantom eyes. Her form flickered, a wistful sadness in her eyes. "I know, Stephen. But you have to let go. You can't keep punishing yourself," she implored, her words carrying a weight of wisdom from beyond.

"I just wanted for us... to be happy. Why weren't we allowed to be happy?" Stephen's voice wavered, carrying the ache of a love lost and a future denied. Christine's gaze softened, mirroring the ache in Stephen's heart. "I don't know," she whispered.

Stephen's hand, still pressed against the cold, cracked wall, yearned for a connection that transcended the boundaries of the spectral and the tangible. He spoke again, a plea tinged with desperation "I tried to fix everything, to save you, to save us.”Christine offered a sympathetic smile, her hand on the cold wall mirroring his desperate touch. "You can't control everything, Stephen."

"No—I can't," Stephen uttered, his admission heavy as Christine's eyes welled with tears and Stephen instinctively reached out to wipe it away. Yet, his hand didn’t passed through the ephemeral droplet, a painful reminder of the intangible nature of their connection. "You can't," Christine echoed, her voice carrying both acceptance and sorrow.

Unable to hold back his own emotions, Stephen closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cracked wall. The cold surface offered no comfort, only the stark reality of his fractured existence. Christine mirrored his gesture, sharing in the silent communion of grief and longing. "I just wish we could have at least had more time together," Stephen murmured, his voice a fragile whisper that resonated through the pocket dimension.

They stayed in silence for awhile until Stephen opened his eyes and called out for her. "Christine?" the echoes of his own voice bouncing off the walls of the pocket dimension. His eyes searched desperately for the spectral form that had briefly offered solace and understanding.

But she wasn't there anymore.

The pocket dimension seemed to close in on him, the air growing heavier as Stephen's breaths quickened. The absence of Christine left an emptiness that the monsters wasted no time exploiting. Their whispers, once momentarily hushed, returned with a vengeance, taunting him with the fragility of his connection to any semblance of peace.

Panic gripped his heart. "Christine! Please, don't leave me alone with them," he pleaded, desperation lacing his words.

As Stephen slid down against the unforgiving wall, the monsters' mocking whispers intensified, wrapping around him like a suffocating cloak. "Why are you so afraid?" they taunted, their voices a venomous chorus that echoed through the pocket dimension. "We are one and the same, Stephen. That's because of you." Clawed hands pressed against his temples as Stephen struggled to drown out their voices again. "You thought you could control us, mold us into something you could use. But look where it got you," they sneered, the shadows deepening around him.

Barely holding onto the fragments of his sanity, Stephen's voice trembled as he begged the monsters for respite. "Please—please stop," he pleaded, his words a desperate plea echoing through the distorted corridors of his mind. The monsters, however, reveled in his vulnerability, their whispers escalating into a malicious symphony. "Stop? Why should we stop, Stephen?" they taunted, their voices intertwining with a sadistic glee. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Power beyond imagination. Accept it."

Stephen's hands shook as he pressed them against his ears, attempting to shut out the relentless onslaught of voices. "Make it stop!" he cried out, his voice raw with desperation. The monsters' laughter echoed through the twisted corridors of Stephen's mind, a malevolent crescendo that reverberated in the suffocating silence. "Our powers weren't meant for humans, Strange," they jeered, each syllable laced with a cruel certainty.

Stephen, weary and battered, felt the weight of his isolation crushing him. Nobody cared about him anymore. The people that did care—were gone now. Because of him.

"Come on, let us have control," they coaxed, their words a venomous lullaby tempting him to surrender. Overwhelmed and drained, Stephen succumbed to the monsters' insidious whispers. His resistance crumbled, and with a surrendering sigh, he let them seize complete control. As the monsters took hold, his human form shattered like fragile glass. Claws extended, horns twisted, wings unfurled, and fangs emerged – Stephen's essence transformed into a grotesque fusion of demons and creatures. The pocket dimension trembled as the once-mighty sorcerer relinquished the remnants of his humanity.

A demonic entity now stood in place of Stephen, a manifestation of the twisted power he had sought to command. The monsters, now in control, reveled in their newfound freedom. "Let's have fun," they hissed in unison, their collective voice a perverse harmony echoing through the distorted realm. The demon that was once Doctor Strange Supreme lurched forward, a malevolent force eager to unleash chaos upon the multiverse. The monsters' laughter echoed with a sadistic pleasure as they revelled in their newfound dominion, leaving behind the shattered fragments of the man who had once dared to tamper with powers beyond his grasp.

Notes: Not sure if I should make a part too for this since I think I left it on a decent ending? 😭 I love love love Supreme’s story, it’s so tragic and again, I think they could have had done more with his story. (Also, please be nice, English isn’t my mother tongue)

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

The bill comes due...

But Stephen would do it again if the choice were given him. For America. For Wong. For the Multiverse, which would be in dire jeopardy if Wanda obtained America's powers.

Doctor Strange (2016) dir. Scott Derrickson

[doctorofmagic]

what do you think of the mcu's take on the sorcerer supreme as a title?

It is really bad, imo. First because I don't like the idea that the Sorcerer Supreme is supposed to teach dozens of students in a magic school. This is not their duty in 616 (even in Strange Academy, it's common to see that Stephen is busy with other activities so he can't be a regular teacher, nor the headmaster).

Usually, the Sorcerer Supreme has one (1) apprentice and they're mostly busy with protecting Earth. MCU!Kamar-Taj gives me "training soldiers to fight mystic wars" vibes and this is not what magic wielders do. Magic just simply happens to them, they're touched by it, and they usually have a personal journey, each one wiith a different kind of magic that shapes their lives (Wanda, Illyana, Nico, Loki, Stephen, Jericho, and the list goes on).

Besides, the title is not a status. You're usually chosen by the Vishanti or the former SS leaves the mantle to you. You inherit a great power which is often depicted as a burden (Clea herself using this exact word to describe what it feels like to be a Sorcerer Supreme of two different realms).

It is true that being the Sorcerer Supreme doesn't mean you're the most powerful magic wielder of your realm. It means that you're wise enough to use magic in a clever way. And this is what Stephen usually does, SS or not.

Still, Wong being overshadowed by Stephen's protagonism does bother me. They could use Wong as someone equal to Stephen when it comes to resilience if they wanted to make him the Sorcerer Supreme (something similar to Ant-Man and the Wasp, where they share the deeds of their heroism).

But then again, magic has never been properly depicted in the MCU, so it doesn't surprise me that they still fail to portray its dynamics (*laughs in Asgardian magic*).

[mckiwi]

Whumptober 2022 Day 15: Emotional Damage

Characters: Supreme Strange, Peggy Carter, Reed Richards, Maria Rambau, Charles Xavier, Blackagar Boltagan

Summary: The Stephen Strange of Universe 838 died defeating Thanos, right?

It was over. Thanos lay dead upon a pile of rubble. The universe had been saved due to Stephen's actions. The question still remained though… "So, what will you tell them?" Stephen asked. How would they explain his death?

Peggy looked over to Maria, who shrugged, then looked back to Stephen, "what would you have us say? Telling the people their Sorcerer Supreme corrupted himself and we allowed it wouldn't be a very good look on any of us."

Stephen sighed, "we need to be honest, though. The people trust us to be truthful to them. Yes, I corrupted myself, but that's no reason to corrupt how they look at the rest of you."

Maria spoke up, "so we tell them we killed our leader? Huh? Is that what you want us to say?"

"Not exactly like that, obviously," Stephen argued. "Just… I don't know. Tell them… tell them I died in the name of defeating Thanos. That's not lying, and it's all the information they need."

Charles hung his head, "I still don't believe we have to execute you, Stephen. There's goodness within you even now."

Stephen smiled bitterly, "agree to disagree. Even if you didn't kill me, I don't think I could find a way to live with myself after doing the things I have." He shook his head. "No, this is for the best… and Reed-"

"No," Reed denied immediately, "I want nothing to do with this."

"Not even one more favor?" Stephen asked falsely sweet.

Reed bowed his head and sighed heavily, "haven't I done enough of those for you?"

Stephen smirked, "I'm afraid I won't be around to repay them. You've been a good friend to me. The best I could probably ask for."

The other man laughed, "a good friend wouldn't execute you."

"You're not," Stephen unhooked the Cloak from his shoulders, "you're giving this to Christine and telling her what actually happened."

Reed stared at the blue fabric now in his arms, shook his head, and pulled Stephen into a tight embrace. After a moment, they separated. "See you soon," Reed said.

"We better not," Stephen chuckled. "Could you also tell Christine that I'm sorry? For everything." Reed nodded. Stephen sighed and his eyes stung, "right. Let's get this over with."

He knelt and looked at the ground for Maria to begin the sentence. Maria had never really liked him. She had no mercy as she recited, "Stephen Strange; Sorcerer Supreme and Master of the Mystic Arts. You've pleaded guilty to the malpractice of the Mystic Arts, using relics and books that weren't in your position or power to do so, endangering multiple universes, and being responsible for the death of countless lives. The majority, including yourself, have found your crimes unforgivable and unredeemable. For this," she hesitated just a moment, "we hereby sentence you to death."

He slowly looked up at that and found Charles watching him closely, "I shall miss you, my friend." His gaze wandered to Peggy and Reed, both keeping their faces skillfully devoid of emotion, yet Stephen still saw the grief etched there.

He suddenly found himself afraid. He knew his death would be painless, but that didn't stop the instinctual urge of wanting to run away. His brain was only just barely surprising the fight or flight response. He was more powerful than all of them combined thanks to his deeds. He could easily survive, and he wanted to. He gulped down the fear and shook away those thoughts. He wanted to live, but he needed to die. "I'm ready," he said.

Blackagar stepped forward, and Stephen saw tears in his eyes. He didn't even need to communicate with him telepathically like the two had grown so fond of doing to know the other man would forever resent himself for this. "I'm sorry"

Stephen got one last breath in before the words crashed over him. He got one last look at the orange planet, the world such a stark contrast to his home of green and blue. He realized somewhere in the back of his mind he would never be buried alongside his sister and mother.

A shockwave ripped across the multiverse as the 838 and 616 universes both saw their Stephen Strange turn to dust. Only one had a plan to return.

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Rough Path to Memory Square (Doctor Strange x Reader [Earth-838])

Words: 5001 (chapters 22-24)

Summary:

You - Earth-838 Sorcerer Supreme's apprentice, now living under Mordo's wing, which you don't like.

Former Supreme Strange's lover and a gifted sorceress, drowning in her own despair, still not over Strange's death.

What happens when two intruders - America Chavez and Stephen Strange, visit your universe? Will you help them? Will you manage to convince the Illuminati that Stephen is not the real threat, but dream walking Wanda is?

Will your own feeling get in the way? Will you open your heart to Doctor Strange again?

Find my other accounts on ao3 and wattpad under the same name <3  

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1rSoldierSince2012

wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/1rsoldierSince2012

Chapter 22: The River of Dreams

You wake up, with a man lying in the bed by your side. The temperature in the room is quite chilly, and your bare legs feel like blocks of ice. You turn to the person beside you, who apparently has stolen half of the blanket from you. You blow out some air, frustrated, and harshly pull the covers back to yourself. A groan is heard, and as you tuck yourself back in, the figure turns to look at you. A lazy smile dancing on his lips, eyes still half closed.

"You thief," he says, reaching out to rub your arm that was resting on the covers.

"No, you're the thief, I almost froze in here," you answer, snuggling into the covers more. He lies on his back and fixes his hair a bit. The silver sides in his dark coal hair flow through his fingers smoothly. You scratch his shy beard underneath the lower lip, hand resting on his chest a moment later. He was more of a mustache guy.

"What are we up to, today, my dear wifey?" Stephen asks, pulling you close to him.

"Saving world perhaps? Or going to that festival in the city?"

"What festival?" he asks, now interested in what's happening. Smart and a know-it-all, Stephen was a helpless cause in ordinary deeds of the world.

"The festival of Lights. Haven't you heard of it?" you lean on your elbow and look at Stephen, not believing that he didn't know.

"No. You know, as the Master of the Mystic Arts, I have bigger things on my mind than some festival in the city."

"Aaaand here it is. Another chance to brag about your higher duties. And that's…" you lean close to his face, your breath dancing on his cheek, "that's why you have me, silly. And before you cover up with your 'higher duties' shield, we're going. At 9 pm. I hope you, Mr Strange, won't be late." you place a soft kiss on his lips and leave the bed, slipping on your silk robe and going toward the bathroom.

"I promise I won't be late, Mrs Strange," he calls back from the bed, sitting up and turning on his phone.

You turn around in your bed, your legs feel numb and uncomfortable in the suit pants, and the jacket that you're still wearing is almost melting on your skin. Finding a better position for a moment, you fall back into the dream.

You go towards the Master's chamber, the biggest room in the Sanctum. Having Sorcerer Supreme as your husband has its perks. 3 months as a wife of the man you would sacrifice yourself for in a blink, felt like days, not a moment longer. You enter the room, go to the bathroom, and turn on the shower, standing before the mirror until the water warms up. Taking off your shirt, you look at the various size scars scattered around your upper body and back. All they symbolize pain and suffering that you have experienced during battles with evil sorcerers, ancient spirits and creatures from the cosmos. Each of them is engraved not only on your skin but also in your mind. A knock on the bathroom door makes you flinch and brings you back from the bad memories.

"Y/n, darling, you're ready?" Stephen calls on the other side.

"Getting in the shower! Give me 15 minutes." you hear his footsteps descending and dropping the rest of your clothes, and you finally step into the hot shower. The water feels amazing, refreshing and relaxing every bone in your body.

15 minutes later you walk out of the bathroom, seeing Strange sitting on the bed, still, in his black robes, Cloak resting on the chair [look loosely based on 2018 Doctor Strange comic].

"What? You're not ready?" you ask, feeling disappointment rise in your chest.

"I can be quick, you know that." he shoots you a smile and with a snap of his fingers, his robes change into a casual look, Cloak safely pocketed in the inside pocket of his coat.

"Show-off, " you scoff, and drop the towel on the floor, walking to the wardrobe and looking for some suitable clothes. Stephen watches your every move, thinking that if he lets you out of his sight for a longer time, you might disappear.

With a pair of jeans in your hands, and a sweater already dropped on the bed, you pull out a pair of boots and finally close the wardrobe. On the bed, you notice a black bra and a pair of the same color underwear lying there comfortably. Not suspiciously at all, right next to Stephen.

"Thought you might like them," he says, eyes never leaving the page of the book he was reading.

"We'll see who will like them more." you tease. Two can play this game.

He grins to himself and you begin dressing up.

"You know that we still have 20 minutes until the time that we actually decided to leave?" he asks, seeing through you once again. Being early for literally everything was a part of your lifestyle. And you hated yourself for that.

"Well, I left those spare minutes in case we get stuck in the traffic." you try to argue, but he laughs at your effort.

"Traffic in a portal? That's a new one for me, have to admit that."

"Things do happen when you expect them the least." you wink and tie your final shoe. "Let's go?"

He checks his coat one last time - making sure that the Cloak is still there - "yep, let's go."

You open a portal to an alleyway and after you both step out, loud chatter and cheery music reach your ears. The chilly weather is quickly forgotten as you get overwhelmed by the festive mood. Hand in hand, swinging arms a bit like a pair of high-schoolers, you and your husband reach the place of the festival - the most beautiful thing you've ever seen - and as a sorceress, you've seen a lot. Lights shining brightly, colored in green, red, blue and yellow, and like 4 shades of pink.

"Truly magnificent," Stephen says, and you look up at him, seeing how millions of lights reflect on his wide eyes. He looks at you and leans down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, enjoying his warm breath on your face.

As much as you want this feeling to continue, it ends. You wake up, feeling sweaty and breathing heavily. Sitting up in the bed, you try to memorize every little detail of the dream.

Likewise, in another universe, Stephen Strange shoots up from his slumber, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. Both of you had the same dream, meaning one thing-

"There is a universe where we're together." you and Stephen say at the same time, more to yourselves than anyone else. A warm feeling in your chest is replaced by a wave of sadness, you and Strange are not meant to be together, neither in your universe, nor in Earth 616, but at least you are happy somewhere else. Getting up and changing your clothes, you grab your new favorite shirt - Stephen's gift. The shirt still smells like him, and wrapped up in a warm, although imaginary embrace, you walk towards the kitchen, ready to make some mint tea.

Chapter 23: Witch Wednesdays

Knocking on the white-painted door, you endure a strange feeling riding in your chest again, making your head almost spin. For the longest minute ever, no one opens the door and you nearly run away back to the Sanctum until the clicking sound is heard. Shyly, the door opens and a familiar head appears.

"Hello, Wanda," you say, smiling a little, messing with a paper bag in your hands.

Wanda looks surprised but doesn't turn away. "Y/n?"

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," you tell, casting your eyes down. Although you know that everything that happened not even a week ago was not her fault, the pain in your side returns for a brief moment but you shoo away the prying bad thoughts.

"No… No," she says and after an uncomfortable silence and invites you inside. You see that the house is still a bit destroyed, especially the stairs. Billy and Tommy are watching cartoons, laughing at something that is shown.

"Boys, come look who came to visit!" Wanda shouts and the boys both jump from the sofa and run toward you. Almost knocking you down, both of them crash you in a double hug, laughing and shouting, "Auntie y/n!"

"Hey, guys!" you ruffle their hair with one hand, keeping the paper bag in the other. "Oh look how much you've grown! You're gonna be taller than me soon!" you smile at them, pinching Tommy's cheek. Wanda comes into the room and the boys run to her.

"I put the kettle on. Tea? Coffee? Anything else? " she asks, looking weirdly at you.

"Just tea, thank you," you say and lift the paper bag in the air. "I brought something."

"Come." she turns to the kitchen and sits down at the end of the table, Billy and Tommy begin running around, playing chase.

You sit on her right, putting the bag on the table, sun shining brightly in your face through the kitchen window blinds you for a moment.

"So." she begins but that's the only word she says. For longer than you want, Wanda looks into your eyes but then furrows her eyebrows a bit. Of course, she's trying to read your mind. But you already prepared yourself before the visit. A spell from an ancient book. A simple spell but quite unbreakable.

"You might be wondering what am I doing here… After everything that has happened. But before you jump to conclusions, I wanted to check on you. And boys." you admit, playing with the hem of your AC/DC shirt. Stephen really brought you into this rock obsession that you bought 5 more band shirts.

"Well… Thank you for that, y/n." the kettle boils and she stands up to make the tea.

You pull the pie from the paper bag and place it on the table, cutting it into eight pieces with a swift hand movement. Billy and Tommy grab a slice immediately and run back to continue watching the cartoon.

"Wanda… How are you feeling?" you ask cautiously. Her hand pouring the water shakes a bit but she quickly controls it.

"As good as one can be after having someone in my body going on a killing spree." She puts the cups down on the table rather loudly.

"Wanda, this is not your fault. You can't push your other self out of your body when they dreamwalk." you say and carefully put your hand on hers.

"I've tried." she begins, voice getting shaky. "I've tried to stop but I was trapped in my own body, without a way to escape, to gain control. I…" a tear rolls down her cheek, "I was just a mere watcher the whole time. I saw what I did. I saw what you did."

Suddenly you feel guilty for your desperate actions but Wanda continues talking.

"That was impressive actually. How you mixed your magic with the chaos one. Never have I seen or read anything like that." Getting praise was not what you expected when you came to this house.

Not sure what to say, you take a sip of the tea. "Wanda. I-"

"I'm sorry about your friends. And about sending you to God knows where. Shit, I almost killed you." she interrupts and this makes you swallow your tears. You have to ask what's been on your mind since your return.

"It's okay. I forgive you," you say and pull her into a hug. She sobs on your shoulder, whole body shaking and you notice Billy and Tommy looking at the two of you with worried expressions. You shake your head a bit, signalling that everything's okay.

"I am so so sorry for Stephen. I feel guilty that I gave away that book so easily. I should have destroyed it." Wanda continues crying but then as the realization hits, she pulls away, hands still on your shoulders.

"Stephen! I swear I saw him. But he's dead. I was at his funeral."

"That was Stephen from another universe, Wanda," you sigh.

"How did he end up here?"

"Long story." A friend or not, you don't go around telling people every little detail of what happened in your life. "Now, sit down, try the pie, the baker told me it's the best one they make," you laugh the awkwardness off and take another sip of the tea. Billy laughs at the cartoon and you soften at the precious moment.

"So, how are you doing, y/n?" Wanda asks, not bothering you with multiverse matters.

"Oh. Not bad for someone who almost got killed 3 times in the same day." you take a piece of the pie and take a bite. The baker didn't lie about the taste. "I'm sure you've already heard the announcement yesterday."

She raises her eyebrow, hinting that she has no clue what you're talking about. The thought of her not watching the funeral of the people she killed, was quite logical. "What announcement?" she asks before taking a sip of her coffee.

"I will be the new Sorcerer Supreme."

"What?? That's good! That's really good, congratulations." she affectionately squeezes your hand and you smile. "But what happened to Mordo? Is he okay?"

"Yeah. As okay as a snake can be," you answer, waiting for her response. "What do you mean by a snake? What happened?" she asks, genuinely surprised.

"Wanda. I came here not only to check on you and the boys. Of course, I know I haven't visited you in quite a long time since Stephen died. But…" words were hard to speak, you didn't want to break the connection and trust with Wanda that you possibly just regained. "I came here for another reason as well."

"Ask away."

"Wanda… What happened with the Darkhold?" You noticed a flash of panic in her eyes and tried to finish your questions quicker. "Why did you give it away? Did someone ask you to give it to me and Strange? Someone like Mordo?"

She's silent. Contemplating whether you are credible in hearing the truth. But little does she know that you already know the majority of it. Placing the cup on the table, she sighs heavily.

"I assume that you already know something about the matter. Well… After my husband died, I was left with Billy and Tommy. My grief almost led me to using the book but seeing that my children needed me more than ever, I decided to not use it. I didn't know where I could hide it so that I wouldn't feel its temptation. So one day I met Mordo. I was on the way to talk to you and Stephen about what to do with the book, but knowing that he was your friend, I thought it was okay to speak to him as well. I briefly stated the matter, and I saw something in his eyes that I didn't understand at the time. Mordo said that the book would be safe in the Sanctum, and protected from people who might want to use it. He agreed to talk to Stephen and arranged a meeting. You already know how it went as you were there too. I gave you the book with a promise that it will never see sunlight again. I would've trusted my life to you, y/n, so I wasn't worried about it anymore." She falls silent, watching your reaction. Now everything has connected in your mind. How the hell Mordo could've said no? It was a perfect opportunity to get rid of Stephen without actually doing anything. He just had to wait for "the big bad" to come and for Stephen to be desperate enough to use whatever was accessible.

"I guess you didn't know that Stephen used the Darkhold to dreamwalk. And in the end, it got him killed," you say, not looking her in the eyes, but focusing on the tea in your cup.

"No. Although at the funeral I tried to read your mind, to at least get a sense of what happened but all I found was grief and self-loathing."

You scoff silently to yourself. "Mordo. He was behind everything. He was so obsessed with me that killing his friend was nothing he would worry about before falling asleep. He was the one who encouraged Stephen to look for a solution in the book when the world was threatened by Thanos. And it got him killed. That wasn't your fault, the idea of hiding the Darkhold was good. Although now when I think of it, destroying it would've been much better, considering what we got through these couple of days." You say and feel anger rising in your chest. Anger directed to yourself. For being so stupid and not stopping Stephen when the time was right.

"I'm so sorry again, y/n, truly. It's so sick and twisted. God, why did I think that talking to him and not you was a good idea?" she holds her head in her hands, her hair shaking on the shoulders slightly. You get up, fixing your jacket and touching her shoulder.

"Don't worry yourself with it now. Thank you, for helping me get the whole story. If that's okay, I think I might come by more often now. You know, kinda missed these two mischief-makes over the years." you smile. Wanda stands up, smiling too, possibly for the first time in days.

" Yes, of course, you're always welcome here. Right boys?"

"What is it Mom?" they both ask in chorus.

"We want to see Aunt y/n as much as possible?"

"Yes! Yes, come visit us more often, auntie!" Tommy shouts, running first to hug you, Billy hot on his heels. The impact makes you swing a bit but you manage to keep standing.

"Okay, you guys, I will. And I will some sweets next time, okay?" you ask, smile never leaving your lips.

"Yes, of course!" Billy says, stealing a glance at his mom who nods.

"Well, gotta go. I have to get the Sanctums ready for the ceremony. You want to come?" you ask, looking hopefully at Wanda but she just sadly shakes her head.

"Too soon for that. Good luck, though." Wanda says and leads you to the door. Finally free from the kids' grasp, you can move more quickly.

"Goodbye, Wanda." you pull her into one last hug and walk out, putting on your sling ring, ready to open the portal.

"Bye, y/n." she waves to you and closes the door. Stepping through the portal, you find yourself at Kamar-Taj, a place where your journey began.

Chapter 24: My Way of Life

Just as the portal behind you closes, a young student appears in front of you.

"Miss, the Sorcerer Supreme wants to see you." he bows a little to you, and you grit your teeth together. What is that fucker still doing here?

"Thank you." you nod and taking long strides, go inside the building. Mordo is standing, his back turned to you, looking at the painting of a famous sorcerer on the wall.

"What?" you ask just as you walk up the last stair.

He turns around with a grimace on his face, which probably is supposed to look like a smirk. Eyes quickly look up and down your attire, staying longer on your AC/DC shirt. You raise your eyebrow and wait until he opens his mouth.

"I thought I will see you here much earlier. Something happened?" voice now sweet as honey, he is definitely playing a game.

"Even if the moon crashed into Earth, I wouldn't be the one to tell you that," you answer, anger flashing in your eyes.

"Oh, that's a bad attitude for future Sorcerer Supreme. You know how they say, sharing is caring." He walks a bit closer to you, hands behind his back.

"Well, does it look like I care about you?" you scoff. Fingers tightly grasp the sling ring in your pocket.

"Y/n, it will be an honour to give you the title of the Sorcerer Supreme. Truly." not even a single muscle on his face moves. Does that man even have any feelings?

"Oh, really? I thought that you wanted to hold onto the title for as long as you can. But I guess after there are no Illuminati members to support you, you have no reason to fight, right?" you begin pacing, and he does the same. Circling together as hungry vultures fighting for the last bite of meat, you try to guess what's on his mind.

"Oh, y/n, y/n." he sighs, shaking his head a bit. "There once was a time when I would've died for you. But now? You're just a bitch. I can't wait to see how everything crumbles in your hands."

The statement makes you smile. "Mordo, if you ever saw anything further than your nose, you would have been a great mentor."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Although the Ancient One used to praise me for my combat skills." he looks around, and you do the same, a plan already forming in your head. This whole interaction could end in two ways. Either with a fight or an argument.

"Yeah? Well, when Stephen was in charge, he praised me for a lot more than combat skills," you smirk, watching him bite the inside of his cheek.

"I think that my, as still, the Sorcerer Supreme duty is to check your competence," he says after a moment.

"Yeah? I wonder how you're going to do that."

"There is one way." he stands in a fighting position, drawing his hands in front of him, balled into fists.

You do the same without waiting, knowing Mordo, he was quick to attack, without giving the opponent time to prepare. "Hand-to-hand combat? Haven't kicked your ass in a while." you take off your jacket, secretly securing your sling ring in the pocket of your jeans.

"Don't be so full of yourself, I think you know how that ended up for Strange," he tells, stepping closer to you and swinging his fist immediately, merely missing your face by an inch.

You get annoyed instantly, stepping aside and throwing a punch to his stomach. A groan escapes his lips but he doesn't move much, almost punching you again.

"You think you can beat me? I had to peel your ass off the floor after every fight," he smirks, thinking that he's got the high ground now.

"Maybe I didn't want to give you a small dick complex? Never thought of that?" you say, trying to distract him with words.

"Your cockiness is what's going to get you killed," he says, carefully placing his feet, as if afraid that the floor might crumble.

"Yeah? Well at least I'll have something you don't," you say and attack him with your whole body weight, both of you falling on the hard floor. "You bastard, Stephen died because of you!" you say sitting on his waist, punching him in the chin.

"He was lost before he found this place. There was no saving." He spits some blood out of his mouth and rolls around, you now lying under him, shoulders tightly pressed into the ground.

"It's not up to you who deserves to live or die, you were just obsessed with me, you sick cunt." You try to free yourself from his grasp but he just pushes you into the ground more. Your hand grasps the slingy in your pocket, as you try to put it on as quickly as possible with one hand.

"He never deserved something so good like you but turns out, you're just a regular bitch." he says, hands suddenly grasping your neck. You're taken by surprise, eyes wide and full of panic. Is he going to kill you now? Air is not reaching your lungs, and the face above you becomes almost blurry. Finally, you put on the slingy and pulling out your hand, you punch him in the face. The impact is not as strong as you wanted but the sharp edges of the sling ring cut his cheek. He lets go of your neck, almost rolling to the side, but you push yourself away from him, quickly getting on your feet, taking a deep breath and grabbing the long training stick that was resting near the wall.

"You son of a bitch!" You say, watching him get up as well, but before he can grab a weapon, you punch his thigh with the stick.

"Ah, there's the fire!" He laughs, falling on one knee as the impact with the stick turns off his nerves for a bit. Wiping his cheek, he notices blood and looks you in the eyes.

He conjures a magical whip, and it grabs your leg, knocking you down. He pulls you towards him and puts his leg on your stomach, putting a lot of pressure on your injured side.

"I thought we were fighting hand to hand, and this doesn't seem fair," you say and quickly grab his leg, knocking him on the ground as well.

Both of you sit up at the same time, you're quick to grab the training stick and set it against his throat, applying slight pressure.

"That does count as a win, yeah?"

Mordo smirks, grabbing the stick and punching your chest with it hard. You get sent flying to the wall, the impact knocking the air out of your lungs for a moment.

"Never leave your opponent with a chance to attack you. Didn't you know that?" He comes closer, creating another whip from magic. Grabbing your hands and pulling them together he leaves you with only one way out. Without thinking, you get as close to him as you can and kick him in the previously harmed leg. He stumbles a bit, and the whip disappears into thin air.

"Oh, I knew that." you lower his head, punching it with your knee. A crack is heard. Either your weak knee or his nose.

A shout near the stairs distracts you both but you try to focus on the man before you, pushing him onto the floor again. Grabbing the training stick once again, you sit on his waist with your full weight, and put the stick on his shoulders, dangerously close to his throat. Leaning a bit towards his face, you say, "Hand-to-hand combat, and you still had to use magic against me? Pretty pathetic for a Sorcerer Supreme." You stand up, and while doing so, push the stick onto his throat a bit, hearing him choke for a moment. You brush the dust off your shirt and look at the three trainees standing there with mouths wide open and simply say, "Training session. I believe you have one to attend too."

They quickly nod and skedaddle away from your sight. Mordo gets up, groaning slightly, while you take your precious time to regain your breath.

"I believe that your skills are competent enough for the title of the future Sorcerer Supreme. However, as I leave, I suggest that you find yourself a training partner. Don't get too lazy and sleep on your victories." Mordo says, fixing his attire and heading towards the main yard.

" Wow, a victory AND a piece of advice? You're truly treating me today!" you shout after him, wiping the corner of your lip and noticing some blood on your hand afterwards. "Fucking cunt." you whisper to yourself and head towards your old room in Kamar-Taj, where you were actually going before this shitshow.

"Testing your combat skills." you silently mock Mordo, words echoing with an indistinct murmuring through the long corridor.

Finally reaching your room, you twist the handle and the door opens with a creak. Everything's exactly how you left it. With an order from the Sorcerer Supreme, aka Stephen Strange, your room was out of the 'free for accommodation' list. You close the door, looking around. The magical flowers on your table were emitting a mystical glow, as you noticed, they started doing that after Stephen died. Magic is truly magnificent.

Walking closer to the mirror near the wardrobe, you see a postcard stuck on the corner of it, with a picture of the Greenwich Village. You flip the card and notice Stephen's neat handwriting. Although you can physically hear him saying that this is the worst handwriting he had since the accident. You read the simple sentence, written in the middle of the card, " 'missing you terribly' - 4-S. "

4-S was the joke between the two of you because at first, he used to sign letters and notes with 'S. S. S. S.' but in the end, writing 4-S became easier.

"Sorcerer Supreme Stephen Strange" you read out loud to no one in particular. You place the postcard in its previous place and look at the mirror. Hair out of place, the black shirt still dusty in some spots, lip now swelled up a bit. Even though you look and feel like half of the corpse, the feeling of beating Mordo at his own game was unmatched. You look around the room again. It's time to move out of it into the Master's chamber. Although it was a room where you and Strange spent some precious moments, now after it was inhabited by Mordo, you'll have to deep clean that place. Possibly twice.

So many things happened today that you got lost in time until the ray of sunshine from the west side blinded you for a bit. Time to go home. Or sleep here. With all the memories still present in the atmosphere. You don't think much before dropping to bed with all your clothes, too lazy to even change, and fall into the desired slumber.

[sevenbulletsavior]

@ascnsion  →  Steve and Karen accidentally summon a demon.  →  👹 ACCEPTING! 

Karen knew that the world of the mystical existed - she’d dealt with the Hand for so long now, aware that they brought others back from the dead, and that people like the Sorcerer Supreme existed - but Karen’s own brushes with the mystical were quite few and far between. She’d never seen magic done outright, she’d never witnessed the power of someone imbued with gifts beyond the scope of science and logic, never seen the dark corners that lurked. She’d been raised in a rather uptight evangelical household at times - Granmama Page and Granpapa Page strictly adhered to the ‘word of the Lord’ and never strayed from Sunday services and Wednesday Bible study - and knew that people believed in an other and beyond but for Karen...it was the thing of folklore and fairytales.

For Karen it was not real and thus when faced with the actual consequences of magic, she was thoroughly unprepared.

What she was never unprepared for was the zealous nature of people involved in cults - their history was peppered throughout time and space, and Karen knew how dangerous they could become, and when a cult began to worship beyond, began to take others, they had to be stopped.

She’d been digging into the cult for some time now, fed information by Steve, finding deeds and ownership documents and other necessary items so they could infiltrate and bring the cult down beforehand. Karen assumed the cult was harmless enough; after all, magic was the stuff of fairytales, so when the whispers and rumors were they were trying to summon a demon? 

She scoffed and laughed at it all.

This would merely be another bad sect taken down.

It seemed that was in poor taste, though, and when Karen and Steven were faced with a fight for their own lives, when Karen was faced with the fear of losing Steve as a gun was pointed at him...magic was suddenly real, suddenly tangible, and it stood before her in the form of a demon named D’Spayre whose eerily translucent gaze locked on to hers and seemed to suddenly work on draining her, on feeding off her fear and despair and all Karen could do was succumb.

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, Books, 8: An eclectic library of dusty tomes, fictional textbooks, pocketbooks, paperbacks, hardcovers, booklets, leaflets and magical manuals. Paper leaves and the binding surrounding them can help define a character, kick off a subplot, fuel a fetch quest or simply serve as a generic macguffin. Commonly seen in video games such as Baldur’s Gate, Neverwinter Nights, World of Warcraft and Skyrim, book items are a way to subtly world build while still handing out sellable loot. A wizard has a spellbook, a cleric has a holy text and now you have a trinket list.

The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries: A compact handbook detailing 70 concise sentences of wise words to prospective mercenaries. The first rule takes up the entire page and simply says: “Pillage THEN burn.”

The Tome of Furion: An unholy volume of dark magic bound in obsidian with pages of flayed Orc-hide. The inscribed letters writhe and shift like living creatures and the pages are warm to the touch even in the dead of winter. Reading the tome is excruciating, as even its most basic precepts are corrosive to the mind, body and soul.

Tales from Within: A leather-bound research and saga book of Garren the Bravefool, it details the pioneering efforts by the individual of killing giant creatures from within by being eaten by them and cutting his way out. Although the author notes Garren’s zeal leading to his death when he attempted his trade on a gelatinous cube, he is apparently credited (At least in this book) for the death of three dragons.

A fey made tome bound in sheet of smooth bark gilded in silver entitled “Lexicon of Stealing Mortal Babies”. The text is a guide to obtaining newborns from humans with tricks. The book is written in sylvan and the pages are transparent sheets, made from giant insect wings with text painted on.

A holy gospel of a fictional religion. The only god seems to be a tentacle monster formed of pasta, meatballs and eldritch power. Although the book is a paperback it has been design to appear as a hardcover.

A depressing but oddly romantic novel entitles “Wed to a Mortal” which tells the sad story of a lovestruck elf who loved a young mortal and how they spent 80 years together until he died of old age, leaving the elf a widow in the prime of her life.

A wood bound tome with the symbol of a tall black tower branded into the front cover. The volume is a true account of one of the first members of the Black Tower an order of male mages who served as soldiers and guardians of a world rocked by chaos and darkness. The book is partly historical but leans heavily on accounts taken from personal journals and reliable word of mouth stories from that era. According to all sources, the use of magic damaged their sanity and stole from their lifespan, making each solider a martyr in his own right. The sheer power they would wield astounded even themselves and the war they fought in preyed heavily on their souls. An anonymous poem that is attributed to a member of the Black Tower is etched into the inside of the front cover; “We rode on the winds of the rising storm, We ran to the sounds of the thunder. We danced among the lightning bolts, and tore the world asunder.”

A pulp romance book entitled “Secret Loves Of Dryads, Kiss And Tell Love Diaries Of Immortal Magical Seducers”. The paperback text has a number of dog-eared pages at some of the more stirring passages.  

A discrete brownish book the size of a deck of cards without decoration or title. Its contests reveal themselves to be a Changeling training manual and guidebook on how the fey train the supernatural shapeshifters to infiltrate humans, live among them and carry out their nefarious goals.

Skin-bound Ledger: A small lined notebook bound in supple, tanned leather, with a dedication in the front cover reading "Binding from Reijek, RIP." Touching the ledger produces a deep sense of revulsion strong enough to prevent the weak-willed from looking at its contents. Inside is written a detailed list of transactions, with columns for Name, Quantity (g), Surface Area (m2), Skin Quality, and Police Inquiry (y/n?).

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Click Here for additional Book Descriptions to give these objects even more personality.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries: A compact handbook detailing 70 concise sentences of wise words to prospective mercenaries. The first rule takes up the entire page and simply says: “Pillage THEN burn.”

The Tome of Furion: An unholy volume of dark magic bound in obsidian with pages of flayed Orc-hide. The inscribed letters writhe and shift like living creatures and the pages are warm to the touch even in the dead of winter. Reading the tome is excruciating, as even its most basic precepts are corrosive to the mind, body and soul.

Tales from Within: A leather-bound research and saga book of Garren the Bravefool, it details the pioneering efforts by the individual of killing giant creatures from within by being eaten by them and cutting his way out. Although the author notes Garren’s zeal leading to his death when he attempted his trade on a gelatinous cube, he is apparently credited (At least in this book) for the death of three dragons.

A fey made tome bound in sheet of smooth bark gilded in silver entitled “Lexicon of Stealing Mortal Babies”. The text is a guide to obtaining newborns from humans with tricks. The book is written in sylvan and the pages are transparent sheets, made from giant insect wings with text painted on.

A holy gospel of a fictional religion. The only god seems to be a tentacle monster formed of pasta, meatballs and eldritch power. Although the book is a paperback it has been design to appear as a hardcover.

A depressing but oddly romantic novel entitles “Wed to a Mortal” which tells the sad story of a lovestruck elf who loved a young mortal and how they spent 80 years together until he died of old age, leaving the elf a widow in the prime of her life.

A wood bound tome with the symbol of a tall black tower branded into the front cover. The volume is a true account of one of the first members of the Black Tower an order of male mages who served as soldiers and guardians of a world rocked by chaos and darkness. The book is partly historical but leans heavily on accounts taken from personal journals and reliable word of mouth stories from that era. According to all sources, the use of magic damaged their sanity and stole from their lifespan, making each solider a martyr in his own right. The sheer power they would wield astounded even themselves and the war they fought in preyed heavily on their souls. An anonymous poem that is attributed to a member of the Black Tower is etched into the inside of the front cover; “We rode on the winds of the rising storm, We ran to the sounds of the thunder. We danced among the lightning bolts, and tore the world asunder.”

A pulp romance book entitled “Secret Loves Of Dryads, Kiss And Tell Love Diaries Of Immortal Magical Seducers”. The paperback text has a number of dog-eared pages at some of the more stirring passages.  

A discrete brownish book the size of a deck of cards without decoration or title. Its contests reveal themselves to be a Changeling training manual and guidebook on how the fey train the supernatural shapeshifters to infiltrate humans, live among them and carry out their nefarious goals.

Skin-bound Ledger: A small lined notebook bound in supple, tanned leather, with a dedication in the front cover reading "Binding from Reijek, RIP." Touching the ledger produces a deep sense of revulsion strong enough to prevent the weak-willed from looking at its contents. Inside is written a detailed list of transactions, with columns for Name, Quantity (g), Surface Area (m2), Skin Quality, and Police Inquiry (y/n?).

Perfection Attained: A delicate handbook in immaculate physical condition. The work serves as a reference to personal grooming, hygiene and good manners for elves.

Summoning Demons and Befriending Fiends, What NOT to Do: A musty volume bound in flaky, deteriorating black leather, its title being barely legible. The author of the book draws from his vast body of knowledge and experience in courting creatures from the Abyss, the Nine Hells, and beyond to provide the reader with a comprehensive list of do's and don’ts when attempting to contact, summon, or otherwise deal with such creatures.

Sources of Magic: A basic textbook bound in tanned leather that is commonplace to nearly every institution of magical learning. The book, written by a powerful and long-dead sorcerer, is every spellcaster's go-to resource for studying the origins of magic as well as serving as a jumping-off point for researchers in any area of magical study. Much of the information in the book is widely-known and somewhat fundamental, but a good grasp of the fundamentals of magical knowledge can be a powerful thing.

An unsuspecting handbook entitled “Rogues Can but Thieves’ Cant” that serves as a dictionary for translating common into the secret language of the criminal underworld and vice versa.

Gras: A book entitled simply "Fat" in its original language, this is the definitive cookbook of the Sovereign Isles, a land known for its creation and embracement of fat-frying and buttered everything. Croissant, steak chips, liver, cheeses, oily fish: All served with bread and wine and defined by their buttery richness.

Arcane Trickery and Dastardly Deeds: A shoddy paperback that is written partly in Common and partly in Goblin. This text gives detail and step-by-step instructions on carrying out multitudes of pranks, tricks, and traps using various forms of low-level magics. While the average magic-user may not learn anything new or practical in the realms of spells and rituals, they may find that some of the author's applications of well-known and widely-used spells are supremely creative; although, perhaps a bit mean-spirited and sadistic at times.

A thief’s memoir entitled “The Art of the Steal by Ronald J. Rump aka Ronny Rump”. The book is an exhaustive treatise on all forms of stealing, from picking pockets to running a loan bureau.

Lessig's Guide to Northern Beasts: A book penned by Field Sergeant Artr Lessig, of Pyle, distinguished as the Ward Rangers' most senior active officer, has over four decades of ranging seen nigh-every animal and monster to roam the moors, forests, and mountainous fjordlands of the North. Lessig recalls in its sketch-illustrated pages encounters mundane and incredible, including with such beasts as stryge and pool-nymphs. All of these he escaped, often barely, unscathed. His ability to survive the monstrous is rivaled only by his luck in encountering it.

The Cognitive Nature of Magic: A book that claims magic is limited by the mind only. It states that we as a society place limits on spells, without these limits even a lowly cantrip could have wish level effects. It presents "experiments" it claims proofs this such as how a simple mending spell cannot repair living skin yet it can repair leather. It claims this proves societies perception of things effects magic. A knowledge PC will find that the author's ideas actually do have some merit but the wording or the argument and the style of the author's rhetoric is abysmal and worthy of a pulpy political debate.  

The Book of Numbers: A book that contains every number in existence, even those ones that shouldn't exist. The text is at the same time, mind numbingly boring and ridiculously confusing.    

The Predator. A rare and insightful work published by renowned anthropologist and natural philosopher Dr. Wallace Piedmont, of Lastreshire shortly before his disappearance. A treatise compiling all his research and case material on the Feywild, a realm he classifies as a "dominant and predatory ecosystem" and frequently refers to as simply "the Predator." A world naturally bent on influential expansion, composed of a network of species both familiar and alien, all of which, even the sentient ones, exist in unnatural symbiosis. Piedmont, supported by evidence retrieved on his many expeditions to feywild portals, diagrams the biology of the fey in detail never before seen (As these diagrams were gleaned by performing untold vivisections and autopsies), including detailed analyses of its sentient species, including pixies, redcaps, and dryads; topics fearful, forbidden, and folkloric in their mystery, broached with candor and method not before attempted. His book is banned anywhere where the fey are considered allies. It is uncommonly available in other countries, although very expensive.

A journal kept by a king's personal valet, which contains a complete record of the lineage of the current King, complete with all mentions of affairs and bastard children.

Wyrm in a Bottle: A book containing a detailed account of how one with proficiency in magic could create an enchanted container then bait, ensnare and place a draconic creature within. However it consistently references seemingly made up or unheard of spells and materials.

The Redwater Journal: A collection of notes that has recently become popular reading in port cities. The notes, now reprinted and bound in red linen, were found two decades ago on the waterlogged corpse of a sailor, who was spotted, floating, on open water midst the Trackless Isles. His notes tell of the fearful last days of the whaling ship Spineback. They describe how its course became lost in a fog bank, how it’s first hand was first to go mad from whispering song. How its crew were eventually stolen from the rails as they stared, transfixed, at the reddened water below.

No Nose for Nonsense: A novella presenting a spirited epic about a Dwarf called Bra'al the Nosebreaker who is exiled from his homeland. He moves to the coast to poach Merfolk and sell their components to exotic nobles. It ends with a small band of strangers visiting the fishing village. Who, coming together to solve the series of curses and problems his poaching caused, removed his ring of water walking and let him drown as he sunk to the merky* depths of the ocean. (*A pun because it was merfolk waters).

Eight Ate and Ain't; An unsuspecting handbook whose pages are stained with brown and green liquids. It seems cryptic, meandering and at times nonsensical. Those fluent in Thieves Cant (The language of rogues and scoundrels) are able to read what is truly says; A poisoner's guide for creating for eight different ingested poisons with different crippling or fatal effects.

The Clever Folk: An old and out-of-print collection of original children's tales, all of which concern the fearful and enigmatic fairy creature that is the black-eyed spriggan. Its publisher ceased all production after certain allegations of actual fey communion emerged concerning the author, who reportedly lived in a cottage surrounded by strange charms and little-toed footprints. It remains a desired book, not by children, but by magicians and adventures: Practitioners interested in the ways of the fey’s servants.

The Blessing of Bone Smoking; Osteomancy for Beginners: A detailed exposition of the funeral ritual prescribed by Secrund (The aspect of death). An important bone of the deceased is alchemically processed and smoked to infuse the imbibing person with some of the powers and memories the deceased had in life. Certain bones have different stores of powers and memories and the book strongly cautions against doing too much of one being or any of something too powerful.

Incurable Curses of Mimetic Transference: A book filled with incurable curses, jinx’s and hexes, some benign and others malevolent with their afflictions in an array of varying degrees. Upon viewing any curse, the reader will suffer an immense compulsion to read its entry, with the farther they go the more difficult it is to stop. If read far enough then the reader will learn about the nature of the curse, how to make it, safeguard against it, and how to detect it but never how to cure it. However, if they read it to completion then they themselves will be afflicted by it, and in any attempt to share the information they've learned will in turn "infect" the listener with said curse.

The Collected Works of Merrill: A book of poetry penned by Merrill, an antique poet of mysterious origin. Whoever he or she was, they wrote a substantial body, mostly pastoral, sweetly rhymed, and finished by flat, disturbing notes. Scholars have observed many of Merrill's works reference fey phenomena: a field of study that is fearful and poorly-understood, at best. As a result, to those who care for such a thing, Merrill's Collected Works have become a useful, if vague, reference in understanding the Feywild and its black-eyed denizens.

Aio's Political Manifesto: An old slightly singed manuscript from a book written in squid ink by a Lord Aio. It argues against feudalism and monarchies and promotes a more ideal magically selected government.

A guidebook exploring and explaining the nature of demons and their biology. It explains the different types and has various speculations from the author as to how they all relate to each other. It attempts to put them in a hierarchy of which is superior proposing each demon is a step closer to what the God's intended than the previous type.

The Limit of Man: An inflammatory journalistic expose on the traditions, cruel alchemical transformative processes, and totalitarian institution of holy order of Alagóran knight-paladins. It describes, in no lack of gruesome detail, the ways in which a young human is broken down, both in mind and body, and reassembled into a dubious paragon of "humanity." Unavailable in its subject-country, this short book has thrown the methods and ethics of some knight-orders continent-wide into question.

A Material Realm Fling: An erotic romance novel about a demon and an angel being sent to stop the others deeds and ultimately falling in love. It's told from the perspective of a farmer who helps hide their love and the author claims to be the farmer. It ends in heartbreak as the demon must leave back to the hells. At the back of the book are angrily scribbled comments with two clear identifiable handwriting claiming the book is false and full of lies.

Arcanium of Outsider Entities: A large leather bound book, with a silver clasp and electrum leaf writing on the front. It is dated to 1562 in an unknown calendar, and the book holds faint traces of magical protection. It details a variety of outsider entities, and how both to interact as well as protect oneself from them.

The Los Karkinos Letters: A bound series of correspondence between two prominent statesmen on one of the most fractious issues of the last century: The restructure of government houses and agencies following a recent war. Regarded as a masterclass in diplomacy in the face of seemingly insurmountable partisan tensions, but also reviled as a prime example of systemic corruption within the state, whether related to the church or the principality.

Black Book of the Hunt: A Hunter’s journal of the process of fighting both undead and beasts, it provides both a list over common knowledge on a few of these creatures, as well as handwritten notes on specific weaknesses, and properties of metal for hunting use.

Chronicles of the Wolf War: A drake-skin leather tome, imbued with faint magic to protect it from wear and tear. The book is dated back to the year of 1102, in an unknown calendar. It contains the history of a great war between Orcs of Gruumsh against a coalition of Elves and Dwarves, in the distant lands of the West. The book contains names of some great lords of the war as well as a few heroes, and refers to a battle known as “Blackfire Pass”, a great battle against vast armies where the elves and dwarves managed to beat back hordes of orcs.

The Mersdotr Medical Manual: A small, red book sturdily bound. Favored by adventurers, who swear by its simple, reliable advice in times of illness and injury. Many a life has been saved by its perusal, by little pages turned under bloody fingers and frantic eyes.

The Life and Death of Necromancy: A smallish, black, leather bound journal filled with the scribbling notes of a past wizard, a skull of silver is set on the front of the book. The text concerns itself on the exact nature of necromantic effects and how to turn such effects to beneficial energy. The writing are imperfect theories and require years to decades of extensive testing before yielding conclusive results.

Mez’kadan’s Ouroboros: A large tome, bound in leather and clasped with gold. A closer inspection of the volume reveals that each page is perfectly preserved drakeskin inscribed with black ink. It describes the scientific use of most metals, and the properties these metals can contribute to a concoction, making it a useful reference tool for any alchemic project.

The Book of Knives. A book penned by an enthusiast of dangerous penchants that catalogues the blades of the kingdom. Stilettos, soap knives, messers; all are accounted for and described in form, history, and purpose.

The Works of Warding: A dark blue book set with silver runes, its pages written in a special silver ink which shines whenever the book is opened. The book is a compendium of abjuration and protective magic, with a specific focus on the research and development of creating new arcane barriers and shields. This specific volume is part of a regularly published series with multiple authors.

A heavy old tome with yellowed pages and a blank cover. The book does not match the design of any other books in the area and has a somewhat homemade feel to it. Nearly all the pages are filled with impressively lifelike sketches of an assortment of common folk, each with a smile on their face. All the drawings seem to be situated in the same village, with a single family and house appearing more frequently than any of the others. Extremely knowledgeable PC’s will be able to discern that each of the members of that family bear a slight resemblance to the physical description of a notorious witch who resides in the surrounding area.

Tales of the Yawning Portal: A great leather bound book, from the hide of some kind of red and orange colored monstrosity, inside inked on the pages are stories of the Yawning Portal, a mythical tavern that supposedly appears for tired travelers in times of need. Inside they find safety and rest, but when they awaken, they discover that they have been transported great distances into the far off places of the world.

A wizard's spellbook bound in copper plates, filled with silk pages that have been written on with golden ink.

A well-used copy of Danver Teth’s “Of Blazing Glory”, a religious volume honored by the church of the fire god. Inscribed on the opening page is the following written in a flowing, red script: “This foretells of the coming fire. When the Flame ascends, all glory comes to the Pitmaster!”

A large tome bound in thick bison-hide that is a common-orcish language primer, as well as a primer on orcish culture. The author of the primer, Darius Woodherd, seems to have added a lot of information on orcish heraldry and politics, as well. The foreword mentions that Darius spent almost twenty years amongst the orcs of the north, and eventually married an orc before being killed a score of years ago in a rival tribe’s ambush.

A strange bestiary that details all the different creatures from another world, though you have never seen nor heard of any of them and neither has anyone else.

Tome Of Neverlife: A book infused with strong necromantic energy that is so palpably evil, it radiates a feeling of dread to every non-evil creature within 30 feet. The grimoire’s pages contain a selection of rare necromancy spells and decoded within its pages lies a method to becoming a lich.

A manuscript of military outpost construction, the plans are quite detailed and might be worth something to a military or mercenary leader. The fort is meant for 100 soldiers and is thus far too large for adventuring groups. The book has descriptions and pictures of wall and ditch fortifications, siege defense measures, sanitation facilities, tent and building layouts, watchtowers, digging wells, and underground storage. The book has options for building and maintaining temporary (A week or less) outposts as well as permanent and semi-permanent fortifications.

The Trade of Blades: A series of historically based, fictional tales of various infamous blade-runners (Weapon smugglers) throughout a series of civil wars. The stories focus on the charm, ingenuity and quick sleazy thinking of the various criminal protagonists as they sell weapons to both sides of the conflict. Many of the war profiteers have hearts of gold despite their illicit affiliations a common theme through the stories is minimizing civilian casualties and making sure children and innocents are spared from the ravages of war as much as possible.

Fundamentals of Terrible Destruction: A primer of war and siegecraft focusing only on offensive strategies and the complete annihilation of the enemy at every cost.

The Thrill of the Chaste: A religious text of a group who worship the ideals of cleanliness and sexual abstinence. It details the extremely strict dietary, sexual, and clothing restrictions which followers must follow.

Cipher Book: A compact pocketbook that contains numbered grids on each page which simply and easily catalog random lists of words. This allows a user to write messages which substitute letters and numbers that reference the page, row, and column of a particular word found within the cipher book. These books are always sold in pairs to allow two different creatures to pass coded messages over long distances, however this book's mate is nowhere to be found.

Book of War Prayers: A small, leather-bound collection of war prayers written on pages of fine vellum. The prayers are interdenominational and seem to only have war in common than any specific god, religion or specific alignment. Secular readers could easily adapt most of these prayers into rallying speeches to inspire an army before battle.

Book of Puzzles: A book containing two dozen puzzles made to test the mind and stir the intellect. The nature of the puzzles vary from math, logic, critical and abstract thinking as well as cryptic. Answering each puzzle gives the reader part of a final secret riddle. The secret riddle at the end can only be answered when all the previous ones have been solved for their piece of it, and it if far more complex that the others.

A book made of thin glass plates bound in copper. When held, it fills itself with treasured illustrated fables that the reader heard in their childhood.

A book describing the history of the evil God Tash, an enemy of the Great Lion whose father is emperor-over-the-Sea. Tash is described as an unclothed humanoid demon, much larger than a man, with four arms and the head of a vulture with a cloud of pestilent insects that surround him constantly. His presence brings cold and the sickening stench of death. Tash’s followers are a warring people and often invade neighboring areas in order to capture men to sacrifice on the altar of Tash. The war cry of his fanatics is enough to make the blood of a brave man turn to ice in his veins: "In the name of Tash the irresistible, the inexorable--forward!"

Tome of Remembrance: A small, leather-bound book whose first few pages are filled with assorted prayers. Knowledgeable PC's know that these books are created empty with each page filling with the prayers of its owner as they are offered to their god. The owner of this tome should be careful that their less-than-pious prayers and wishes may be recorded as well.

A fairly simple leather-bound book filled to the brim with the hand-written history of the Church of Bahamut written inside, in Draconic. According to the first few pages, it belonged to a dragonborn cleric of Bahamut, Plynic Loremark, who was convinced that coded in the text was an ancient prophecy.

Book of Fel Names: A grotesque book bound by the stitched together hides of several demons and fiends. The entire text is written in the language of devils and must be deciphered to be understood. The book appears to be a ledger of sorts written by a middling devil and contains the true names of a few dozen minor imps and the favors they owe to the author.

Collection of Legendary Tales: A leather-bound book containing a collection of the most awe-inspiring, captivating stories sung at taverns and told around campfires across the land.

Beginner's Guide to Dimensional Rifting: A small book containing a seven step process for mastering dimensional travel in one week, provided all the knowledge is there. *Disclaimer: The knowledge is never there.

The Big Book o' Beards: A small pocketbook containing dozens of beard grooming techniques complete with instructions and images. It features such favorites as the 'Thundermar Triple-Fork' and the 'Blammenhammer Chin Strip.'

Wildhammer Book of Verse: A small pocketbook of a collection of the filthiest limericks ever penned to parchment.

Diary of Balldir Deeprock: A travel journal filled with waterlogged pages that have mostly faded. Careful reading near the end reveals some lines about field testing a poison immunity. There are no entries after that.

A small songbook containing a complete set of sheet music and lyrics to the bawdy tavern song “The Hedgehog Can Never Be Buggered At All ”

A small handbook of baby names for males and females of various races and cultures, arranged in alphabetical order.  

A well-kept travel journal bound in black leather. It is completely filled with an indecipherable script that disappears when a shadow passes over it.

Book of Cults: A strange leather-bound book containing erratic handwriting. The words within it appear to have been translated from Gnome into Common (and perhaps some other language before Gnome). It contains notations of strange cult practices, disturbing rants about ancient godlike beings, and confusing diagrams resembling summoning circles, with many parts crossed out or obliterated with ink or fire.

Interview with Some Vampires, by Ena Neric: A black leather bound book with a symbol of a fanged mouth colored a blood red on the front cover.  The author spent extensive time meeting with a wide range of known vampires. Her precise question-and-answer style writing has become the definitive work on the subject of these cursed undead.

St. Aubert's Book of the Damned: A vile work that contains detailed descriptions of all the evil private demiplanes of existence, as well as the summoning rituals for every denizen. Knowledgeable PC’s will know that to protect the information from evil hands, a hundred copies were made, each with slightly incorrect information from the original. Using the information found in one of the copies to summon a demon, would result in a quick death at best and the loss and eternal torture of your soul at worst. There is no way to know if this tome is the original or a copy.

A hand-written memoir of an ineffective bureaucrat who never managed to do anything noteworthy over his extensive career.

A mage’s spellbook bound in copper and trimmed with hippopotamus tooth. When the tome is opened, it flashes with bright light. According to the inside of the front cover, the original owner was one Darward Zelus.

Scry Hard; A Good Way to Scry: A particularly edgy and bombastic work of literature that aims to equip the reader with a deeper knowledge of arcane scrying.

Astraldynamics 101: A beat-up and heavily-used leather-bound textbook that provides the reader with details on cosmological history and structure, the fundamentals of Astral projecting, what risks are entailed in traveling by Astral means, and how best to prepare oneself for taking such a journey.

Tome of the Southern Sigil: A leather-bound book written in Draconic, in a delicate handwriting. It describes the specific motions and practices required to train monks in the Quivering Palm technique. Rather than a primer, it assumes that the reader is already an accomplished martial artist, in good physical condition and able to focus and direct their inner chi. While an interesting topic, the overwhelming majority of readers would not be able to execute the Quivering Palm technique in any form.

Stranger In My Dreams: A nondescript journal that talks about the author recalling a depraved creature who over time got closer and closer to her in her dreams. The book seems to be a diary and was never finished. In the last passage, the author says that the monster has finally come within arm’s reach of her. Upon reading the entire volume the reader immediately suffers psychic damage equivalent to a dagger.

Patterns of Behavior: A small hardcover anthology of mood affecting quilt work and fabric designs. Inside is dozens of pictures and instructions to create a variety of patterns that slightly affects one’s mood when looked upon.

Income Management and Financial Assessment: A book containing several long chapters detailing ways to horde, hide, and invest gold. Hidden within are several nude illustrations of females of the common races.

Learn To Read: An incredibly dense book that details the process of learning the art of reading Common, almost impossible to understand, even for those fluent in Common.

An Almanack of Practical Mortis: An exhaustive collection of tables detailing how corpses decompose under various circumstances, along with an appendix that explains step-by-step how to remove maggots, close large wounds, and reset broken bones.

Crying Laughing: An alchemical reference guide which details a large number of funny and entertaining uses of tears, outlining their magical and alchemical properties.

Hilarious Knock-Knock Jokes to Say Out Loud: A thin and surprisingly old-looking book containing a few genuinely good knock-knock jokes. At least one punchline is actually the true name of a powerful demon which attracts her attention when said aloud granting her an opportunity to break through into this plane of existence.

The Next Hunt - Volume I, Wyverns: A ranger’s guide bound in lizard skin that is the first in a series of installments detailing an abundance of methods for finding and hunting various monsters. Each volume covers a different creature. This text details the highly aggressive yet simple minded dragon species known as the wyverns.  

Our Friend the Cactus: A black wood bound tome written by a dwarf wizard by the name of Daven Wraithmail. This treatise explains the growth and upkeep of a Gulthias Tree as well as several manners to corrupt seeds of other trees in order to create a suitable vessel. An entire chapter is dedicated to the domestication of the resulting blights which sprout from said tree and their training to better protect your new sapling.

To Cheat A Devil: An autobiography of a man who tricked dozens of minor devils, and even a few archdevils into doing his nefarious bidding. It seems like this man should be much more well known if the events described in this book actually took place.

The True Rulers of Our Countries: A controversial document in and of its own right, this book talks about the creation of the Prime Material and Inner planes. A thin volume which only contains four pieces of paper, however these papers are magically enchanted to pass through the thousands of pages of content which this book holds. The author of the document seems almost too knowing on the subject, almost as if he were there...

The Night's Embrace: A book about the primordial titans, mostly legend and myth, collected by an eccentric young wizard who traveled the planes looking for information about them. This book is highly frustrating to scholars because the last entry is the beginning of a summary of an actual historical document, which has never been found. The book is unfinished and the wizard has not been seen for hundreds of years.

The Story of Graye: The story of a slave forced to be a pit-fighter who turned to meditation as an escape from his violent life. This book is not well written, and is probably an earlier work of a novice author that never reached widespread fame.  

A large, weather resistant guidebook entitled “So Your Son Is a Centaur”, written by Wiltlin Lorearthen. The book contains minor translating magics and can be read and understood by any human, horse or centaur regardless of what languages they do or do not speak.

A leatherbound guidebook bound with expert stitching entitled “Something I Cobbled Together: A Guide To Shoe Repair”. The author mentions that her dedication to her profession is unmatched and that no matter who you happen to be, if you come into her shop in need, she will heel you, she will save your sole and she will even dye for you.

A small black book containing names, descriptions, and important information about hundreds of politically or socially significant individuals written in neat, tight script.

The Enchiridion of the Evoker: A grey book, though covered in a thick gold leaf, that appears mostly plain. When touched by a creature capable of casting magical spells however, the books shines brightly in a myriad of colors. The book is a compendium of evocation magic, with a specific focus on the research and development of creating new offensive spells. This specific volume is part of a regularly published series with multiple authors.

Bali's Folio: A flawless tome written upon silk pages and bound in monstrous hide trimmed with bone. A map of the local area, with several landmarks drawn in red ink, has been added in the middle of the tome. Knowledgeable PC’s will be able to determine that the areas in red are good sources for either harvesting or purchasing alchemical and arcane supplies.

So Long, and Thanks for All the Ale: The humorous tale of Tarvish the dwarf, who had unpaid bar tabs worth a total of 10,000 gold all across the country before being arrested.

Backstage: A tell-all book detailing the more mundane dangers of the adventuring life, like insufficient supplies, inappropriate gear, public reactions, illnesses and the common lack of money. The text has tips and advice on how to prevent and deal with the issues as they pop up, which usually all boils down to travel three days march in any direction and kill things for money.

Every. Accomplished. Recognizable. Sentient. by Tommeltop the Gnome: An encyclopedia of anyone who accomplished anything of moderate note ever, however most of each page is dedicated to greatly exaggerated, suitably cringy and oddly romantic paragraphs about how great each person’s ears must have been. Any brave soul who actually reads the book through is suddenly able to recall in perfect detail the ears of anyone they’ve ever seen before for no apparent reason.

Liber Daemonicum: A religious book, sacred to a chapter of holy warriors known as the Grey Knights that contains prayers, battle rituals, litanies, funeral rites, and lore on the nature of Chaos. While it may appear to be a normal book, opening it will reveal a series of flickering paper-thin sheets of unbreakable glass that contain interactive information that can be brought to focus or enlarged. Page after page discusses tactics and how to fight the denizens of the nine hells, as well as, listing the True Names of a great many Daemonic entities; information collected from the Librarium Daemonica. The book pulls no punches; it includes an extensive discourse of when to terminate allies under demonic influence and a whole chapter discussing the moral implications and appropriate use of purifying entire cities by the use of razing them to the ground by sword and fire, exterminating the guilty and the innocent alike.

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, mistressstrange

September 16-Stephen Strange/Wong, something fluffy or smutty maybe with "Will you marry me?", for @mistressstrange​

Written by @lj-todd

Wong had done his best, in those five long years, to hold the remaining sorcerers together. He had done all he could to ensure the protection of the Sanctuaries and the innocent people left behind in the wake of Thanos’ reckoning. 

He was no Sorcerer Supreme, he had never been destined for such responsibility, but until another one rose or until a way was found to undo what Thanos had done he would stand in the position. He would honor the Ancient One and Stephen by fighting on. He was in the library, tending to the collection, ensuring the protective spells around the more dangerous books were still in effect, when a portal suddenly opened. Wong reacted instinctively, his sling ring a familiar weight against his knuckles and the magic, the energy, flared bright as he readied for a fight only to have the world once more yanked out from under his feet. Stephen gave him a rather unimpressed look before, in true Stephen fashion, barking out orders he immediately expected followed, turning to disappear through his portal but paused when Wong called out to him. Wong would forever remember the look of surprise on the great Stephen Strange’s face when he reached out, cupping that handsome, if arrogant, face and pressed a kiss, chaste yet promising, to lips that smiled in friendship just as easily as they sneered in disdain. He would forever remember the look on Stephen’s face when he drew back and whispered to him that if he got himself killed again than Wong would use every dark spell imaginable to resurrect him just so he could kill Stephen himself. Stephen had smirked at him. That cocky quirk of his lips that, once, had driven Wong crazy with the desire to strangle the man. Now it just served as a reminder that Stephen was there. Was back. Alive and whole. When the battle was done, dozens of sorcerers lost, Tony Stark sacrificing himself for the good of the entire universe, Wong’s only true concern was Stephen. The man was quiet, in a way he rarely was, and, back in the warm familiarity of the New York Sanctum, Wong watched as Stephen guided the Cloak of Levitation from his shoulders, the fabric drifting away to rest in the cabinet Wong had kept clean for five years now. He watched as Stephen, tired and drained, from the battle, from the losses and the realization that the world had in deed continued on, finally slumped in a chair. Wong drew a deep breath, moving to fix Stephen a cup of tea, only to still when the man called his name. “Sir,” he asked, frowning, turning back to Stephen, who had not moved but was watching him. When Stephen slowly extended a hand, fine tremors dancing along his fingers, Wong moved without thought. Without question. The moment he was close enough, Stephen reached out, taking his hand, lacing their fingers together and, even then, Wong could feel the tiny tremors. He wanted to grasp Stephen’s hand tighter, to assure him that he was not alone, but he worried about the pain it might cause the other man. He would never do anything that would harm Stephen. “I wish I could say I missed you,” Stephen said softly, thumb, shaking slightly, brushing over Wong’s knuckle. “But for me…I blinked and five years has gone by. Everything is different. Everything moved on.” He smiled slightly, just the barest upturning at one corner of his mouth. “But here you are. Still guarding the Sanctum. Still defending our world.” “As you would have done in my place,” Wong reminded. “As you did when you gave up the Time Stone.” Stephen gave the faintest of nods, the weight of the Eye of Agamotto a familiar weight around his neck, his thumb still rubbing against Wong’s knuckle. “When I opened that portal and saw you…” Stephen blinked and a vulnerable light passed through his eyes. “God, I was so relieved. So…So happy. You were different but still…you. Still Wong. Still…” “Beyonce?” Wong lifted an eyebrow, grinning, and Stephen chuckled at what had become their shared joke. “Yes.” Stephen nodded. “Still Beyonce.” Wong’s smile became a grin as he lifted Stephen’s hand, pressing a soft kiss over the scars, faint little lightning bolt lines, that graced the man’s knuckles, the back of his hand, turning it over to press another kiss to Stephen’s palm. “I have never been so relieved, so grateful, to see someone as I was when I realized it was you stepping through that portal,” he confessed. “All I wanted was to take you into my arms and never let you go. To make sure that I…that I never lost you again.” “Wong…” Wong silenced Stephen before he could speak, pressing a kiss to the other man’s lips, and he felt Stephen smile against his lips as the other man returned the kiss. Without breaking the kiss, Wong drew his slip ring from his pocket and, though it was too big for Stephen’s lean fingers, slid it over them, causing Stephen to draw back slightly, looking down in surprise. “Wong?” Stephen blinked at him, though Wong knew the man was not as dense as he was trying to let on, and a tiny smile graced his face. “What’s this?” “What does it look like?” Stephen’s smile was slowly growing as he looked from Wong to the ring and back again. “Like you’re trying to use your sling ring as an engagement ring.” “And if I am?” Stephen chuckled. “Most proposals are prefaced with a question. I believe there are four very simple, very easy, words that…” Wong kissed Stephen again, which earned him a muffled laugh and the man’s free hand gripping at his shirt, drawing him close. When he drew back, just enough to speak, his lips brushed against Stephen’s. “Will you marry me,” he whispered and Stephen’s smile couldn’t have gotten any bigger. The warmth and light and love in his eyes bright as the sun itself. “In an infinite number of worlds and futures,” Stephen replied softly. “The answer will always be yes.” It was Wong’s turned to smile as they kissed again, his hands tangling in Stephen’s hair even as the other man drew him closer, leaning up into him with a quiet murmur of joy and approval.

[biomic]

main riders as dnd classes

Godai - Paladin (Oath of the Ancients) - Where there is good, beauty, love, and laughter in the world, stand against the wickedness that would swallow it. Where life flourishes, stand against the forces that would render it barren.

Shouichi - Druid (Circle of Dreams) - These druids seek to fill the world with dreamy wonder. Their magic mends wounds and brings joy to downcast hearts, and the realms they protect are gleaming, fruitful places, where dream and reality blur together and where the weary can find rest.

Shinji - Warlock (The Fiend) - You have made a pact with a fiend from the lower planes of existence, a being whose aims are evil, even if you strive against those aims. Such beings desire the corruption or destruction of all things, ultimately including you.

Takumi - Blood Hunter (Order of the Lycan) - Their methods sometimes blur the line between themselves and the evils they hunt, calling their own humanity into question.

Kenzaki - Paladin (Oath of the Ancients) - Delight in song and laughter, in beauty and art. If you allow the light to die in your own heart, you can't preserve it in the world.

Hibiki - Ranger (Monster Slayer) / Bard (College of Valor) - Trained in supernatural techniques to overcome such monsters, slayers are experts at unearthing and defeating mighty, mystical foes. / Bards of the College of Valor are daring skalds whose tales keep alive the memory of the great heroes of the past, and thereby inspire a new generation of heroes.

Tendou - Monk (Way of the Sun Soul) - Monks of the Way of the Sun Soul learn to channel their life energy into searing bolts of light. They teach that meditation can unlock the ability to unleash the indomitable light shed by the soul of every living creature.

Ryotaro - Warlock (The Archfey) - Your patron is a lord or lady of the fey, a creature of legend who holds secrets that were forgotten before the mortal races were born. This being's motivations are often inscrutable, and sometimes whimsical, and might involve a striving for greater magical power or the settling of age-old grudges.

Wataru - Bard (College of Lore) - The loyalty of these bards Iies in the pursuit of beauty and truth, not in fealty to a monarch or following the tenets of a deity.

Tsukasa - Rogue (Swashbuckler) - You focus your training on the art of the blade, relying on speed, elegance, and charm in equal parts. While some warriors are brutes clad in heavy armor, your method of fighting looks almost like a performance.

Shotaro - Rogue (Inquisitive) - As an archetypal Inquisitive, you excel at rooting out secrets and unraveling mysteries. You rely on your sharp eye for detail, but also on your finely honed ability to read the words and deeds of other creatures to determine their true intent.

Philip - Wizard (School of Divination) - The counsel of a diviner is sought by royalty and commoners alike, for all seek a clearer understanding of the past, present, and future. As a diviner, you strive to part the veils of space, time, and consciousness so that you can see clearly. You work to master spells of discernment, remote viewing, supernatural knowledge, and foresight.

Eiji - Warlock (The Archfey) - Where sages or wizards might heed a clear sign of danger and end their research, a warlock plunges ahead, heedless of the cost. Thus, it takes a peculiar mixture of intelligence, curiosity, and recklessness to produce a warlock.

Gentaro - Paladin (Oath of the Ancients) - Be a glorious beacon for all who live in despair. Let the light of your joy and courage shine forth in all your deeds.

Haruto - Warlock (The Fiend) / Sorcerer (Draconic Bloodline) - The warlock learns and grows in power, at the cost of occasional services performed on the patron's behalf. / Magic is a part of every sorcerer, suffusing body, mind, and spirit with a latent power that waits to be tapped.

Kouta - Bard (College of Swords) / Warlock (The Fiend) - Bards of the College of Swords are called blades, and they entertain through daring feats of weapon prowess. Blades perform stunts such as sword swallowing, knife throwing and juggling, and mock combats. Though they use their weapons to entertain, they are also highly trained and skilled warriors in their own right. / You have made a pact with a fiend from the lower planes of existence, a being whose aims are evil, even if you strive against those aims. Such beings desire the corruption or destruction of all things, ultimately including you.

Shinnosuke - ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Takeru - Monk (Way of the Open Hand) / Cleric (Life Domain) - Whatever their discipline, monks are united in their ability to magically harness the energy that flows in their bodies. Whether channeled as a striking display of combat prowess or a subtler focus of defensive ability and speed, this energy infuses all that a monk does. / The Life Domain focuses on the vibrant positive energy - one of the fundamental forces of the universe - that sustains all life.

Emu - Cleric (Life Domain) - The gods of life promote vitality and health through healing the sick and wounded, caring for those in need, and driving away the forces of death and undeath.

Sento - Artificer (no subclass bc i feel like the current two options don’t entirely fit him) - Masters of unlocking magic in everyday objects, artificers are supreme inventors. They see magic as a complex system waiting to be decoded and controlled. Artificers use tools to channel arcane power, crafting temporary and permanent magical objects.

Sougo - Sorcerer (Wild Magic) - Your innate magic comes from the wild forces of chaos that underlie the order of creation. However it came to be, this chaotic magic churns within you, waiting for any outlet.

[pulaasul]

Undo 6 - MCU x DCAU - Ending 2 P1 - Non-Canon Compliant

It has been years since the heroes and villains teamed up against Darkseid when people around the world randomly turned to dust, including Billy Batson’s twin sister and best friend. He’s summoned by the Wizard Shazam to undo this phenomenon.

AO3 I FFN

------

Billy managed to recompose after Spider-Man had gently put him on the ground. He stood up and looked at his surroundings. The hideous monsters and even the spaceship he, as Captain Marvel, and Danvers took down crumbled into particles of dust.

Even Thanos himself, who was sitting at piece of metal with a somber expression, crumbled to dust the same way his allies did.

Billy looked at where his savior went. He was with the people donning armor in different colors: gray, blue, red and gold; sobbing as the light from the man in red and gold armor flickered on and off.

Billy can see that the man was dying.

"Be good and good will follow." Were the words Billy always lived by. These words were what his parents always said to him as a reminder to be good and help the people in need.

"Shazam!"

As lightning struck Billy's mortal form, a thunderclap following soon after, he transformed into his champion form.

"Ekat em daetsni" Billy muttered as electricity cackled around him. "Ekat em daetsni." He repeated as his eyes glowed yellow and electricity began to crackle on his eyes. "Ekat em daetsni."

An arc of electricity started to travel from Captain Marvel's chest towards the burnt hand of the dying man, Ironman, as soon as the arc connected the effect was instantaneous.

Ironman's whole body began to glow gold as his wounds and burns started to heal.

Captain Marvel on the other hand struggled to keep himself upright before succumbing to the planet's gravity but before he could even collapse, Danvers had caught him and gently set him on an upright rock.

"What did you do kid" Danvers asked Captain Marvel.

"I took his place." Captain Marvel answered with a tired grin.

"What do you mean?" Danvers narrowed her eyes as other heroes gathered around them.

"It is, what it is." Captain Marvel answered tiredly before he slumped to the ground, lifeless.

Captain America was about to check on Captain Marvel when a violet ankh appeared behind Captain Marvel.

People immediately went on guard at the sudden appearance of a symbol. It was a shock that a few moments since the ankh appeared, the hero himself began to crumble.

"Wha-"

Before anyone could even question anything, Captain Marvel disappeared and the violet ankh followed suit.

-------

"We have a problem." Doctor Fate announced as the ankh that had recently disappeared appeared once more.

"Billy!" Courtney screamed in horror as the sigil on Courtney's hand began to fade. "Zatanna" She called for the sorceress' attention. "Captain Marvel's sigil is fading."

"Zatanna Zatarra make use of the spell of return." The Lord of Fate ordered. "Forcibly return Captain Marvel to this reality." He added.

"Right!" Zatanna nodded. "Nruter eht rrioraw uoy tsum, efas dna dnuos dna si a tsum!" She began to chant as she hovered and glowed in violet.

A Zatanna floated and glowed in violet hue, a violet ankh appeared behind her and yellow electricity began arcing all around the Rock of Eternity. One electrical arc made contact with the fading sigil on Courtney's arm and that contact made her scream.

"Wizard!" Mary announced her arrival via a lightning strike. "Where's my-"

Mary was cut off at the scene before her, Zatanna and Doctor Fate were casting a spell while Courtney Whitmore was screaming in terror.

"Mary!" Freddy entered the Rock of Eternity with another lightning strike. "Could you ju-"

Freddy stopped dead on his tracks, his words completely forgotten, as he witnessed what Mary was watching.

"Freddy!" Mary turned to her brother's best friend. "Whatever they're doing, it's somehow connected to Billy." She shared her assumption. "Courtney can't handle the strain."

"Right." Freddy nodded. "You're suggesting we take some of the strain off of Court and let Zatanna and Doctor Fate do their thing undisturbed."

"Exactly." Mary nodded. "Are you in?" She asked her companion.

"Of course I'm in." Freddy exclaimed. "Solomon's telling us that this is connected to what was happening in the world and that in turn is connected to Billy."

"On three?" Mary smiled.

"On three!" Freddy approved.

"One" Mary began.

"Two" Freddy followed.

"Three!" The two members of the Marvel family exclaimed in unison as they held each other's hands while their other hand reached for Courtney's shoulders.

Mary and Freddy did not scream from pain but the experience was nonetheless painful. They may have the stamina of Atlas but that does not mean they were impervious to pain.

Courtney on the other hand stopped screaming but sobbed uncontrollably as she rested from the absence of the painful event. The electric arc was still connected to her hand, but the main was nothing more than a sting unlike what she experienced earlier.

Courtney nonetheless focused on the fading sigil on her arms rather than look around. It may have been irrational but if she looked at the sigil, it may not disappear completely.

A few more moments passed and dust began to exit the violet ankh and land in front of the floating Zatanna, who was still chanting the spell of return.

"MROFER!" Doctor Fate shouted.

The dust that landed before Zatanna started to form the shape of Captain Marvel just brown. It looked like a paper statue that was half way done and was torn down to pieces.

"Billy!" Mary exclaimed as she attempted to approach her twin's champion form.

"I forbid you to take one more step further Mary Marvel." Doctor Fate ordered. "My magic, Zeus's power and Atlas' gift are the only things that's keeping him from dying."

"Billy made the ultimate sacrifice." Zatanna exclaimed." He essentially died for someone else." She added somberly.

"Please no." Courtney whispered. "Please bring him back."

"Captain Marvel is in a state of limbo, neither alive nor dead." Doctor Fate informed. "However, casting this effect unto someone else may overturn the balance of this world." He finished.

"Then I've got the perfect solution for you blokes."

"John Constantine." Doctor Fate announced.

"I've got someone who's interested in that effect." Constantine informed the group as he exited a wooden door.

"What do you want Constantine." Zatanna snarled. "Your brand of magic is not welcome in the Rock of Eternity."

"All magic comes from the Rock of Eternity love." Constantine fired back. "There's no white or black magic, there's simply magic.

"Regardless." Doctor Fate bellowed out. "What is your business here John Constantine?"

"I need the effect that's afflicting the big red cheese." The occultist answered. "I've got someone who wants to experience it firsthand."

"As a Lord of Order, your request is denied John Constantine." The sorcerer supreme declared.

"C'mon Nelson." Constantine voiced out. "You can't continue to uphold the magic that's keeping him together for all eternity." He reasoned.

"I can and I will."

"You and I both know that's bullocks mate." Constantine scoffed. "The order was thrown out of whack when people around the world started crumbling to dust." He continued. "Sure the big red cheese was able tip the scales in its neutral state, but with him returning in this state has thrown order out of balance once more." He added.

"Transferring Captain Marvel's affliction to someone else will, as you say, throw the balance out of whack more than it is." Doctor Fate sighed.

As the occultist and Lord of Order continued their back and forth regarding how the doing one thing could tip the scales out of balance, Mary and Freddy, with electricity occasionally crackling around them, tended to Courtney's exhausted form.

Zatanna on the other hand reinforced Doctor Fate's magic that was keeping the still discolored figure of Captain Marvel, as tired as she is.

"Excuse me." Freddy voiced out, causing the two male adults to look at the children. "Comparing notes regarding the morality of one deed is good and all, but could you hurry up?"

"Freddy!" Mary admonished.

"For the record, transferring what's happening to Billy wouldn't upset the balance than it already has." He added. "Constantine's merely transferring the affliction to another being rather than stop it completely."

"I see where you're going." Mary smiled.

"Is that the wisdom Solomon imparted has given you champions?" Doctor Fate questioned. "Very well." He nodded. "John Constantine, you are permitted to transfer Captain Marvel's affliction to any one you so wish."

"Now we're talking!" Constantine cheered.

Constantine's hand glowed orange as a door appeared and opened to reveal an old woman dressed in a blue gown and silver tiara inside a glass dome.

"Is that a fairy godmother?" Mary could not help but ask.

"Don't mistake her from the fairy tales you watch lass." Constantine responded. "She's a vengeful witch whose anger rivals that of Black Adam."

"How rude." The Fairy Godmother huffed.

"She was banished to hell once John Constantine." Doctor Fate commented. "Regardless, I can see why you chose her."

Constantine merely nodded as he willed the glass dome to move closer to him as he neared Captain Marvel's discolored form.

"Epekto sa iyahang kahimtang mubalhin sa laing lawas." Constantine chanted as fire began to appear on his hands.

As the occultist continued to chant the spell, the fire on his hands began to stretch itself and approached and hoisted Captain Marvel in the air. Arcs of lightning made contact with the champion's body as his color began to change from soil brown to flesh and crimson.

The fire gently set Captain Marvel's unconscious form on the floor before it made its way towards the vengeful Fairy Godmother. The fire surrounded the fairy of wishes before she crumbled to dust. As soon as her remains were settled on the floor, the fire that surrounded the glass dome faded away.

Constantine's coat and gloves also crumbled to dust as soon as the fire from his hands disappeared.

"Why's Billy not waking up?" Courtney managed to speak up.

"He's in a comatose state." Mary replied sadly.

"For all intents and purposes, Billy should have died." Freddy added.

"The infinity stones' strain on his body was too much." Mary finished.

"How are you both so calm?" Courtney asked the duo.

"It's one of the downsides of the Wisdom of Solomon." Mary answered. "We can know the harshest truths there is, including Billy's current state."

"Wizard?" Freddy called out.

"You can transport young Billy out of the Rock young champions." The Wizard replied. "Only man's medicine can cure Billy Batson now."

"I've already contacted the league." Zatanna informed. "Batman has prepared the medbay for Billy's treatment."

"Shazam!" Mary yelled as her hands were on Captain Marvel's chest.

Mary transformed back into her mortal form and forced Captain Marvel to transform back to Billy.

Freddy loaded Billy on his back as Mary helped Courtney up on her feet and proceeded to walk through the ankh that Doctor Fate had conjured, with Zatanna lagging behind.

[childofchthon]

✦ Tʜᴇ Oʀɪɢɪɴ Oғ Wᴀɴᴅᴀ Mᴀxɪᴍᴏғғ ✦

↳ ❝I am Wanda Maximoff, and I have not always been the woman who stands before you... I was once troubled. I once devoted my power to the forces of evil. But isn’t that the case with every Maximoff? Isn’t it the case with everyone sired by Magneto? We do bad. We break rules. I assisted The Brotherhood Of Mutants. However, what led to such? What caused beauty and grace to become wicked? Well, I wasn’t necessarily wicked— Moreso confused. Pietro and I were homeless. We needed assistance. We turned to villagers, but they proved to be cruel souls. They were a lovely couple. We had food. We had shelter... Shelter— Oshtur, the word tastes like honey. That honey taste faded because of a lustful beast.❞

. . . . . . . . .

⤷ ❝Thus, we fled. After all, they wanted us dead. Villagers always want us dead... Mutants! Freaks! Sometimes I wish we hadn’t fled so easy. What if we had fought? Equality was so hard to obtain back then— Still is today. The X-Men endure discrimination. Inhumans endure discrimination... Discrimination seems to be inherent in mankind. But I can’t allow that to stop my progression into the future. Never again.. For I am an Avenger! And that has power. I can help those without a voice! I can command my magic to guide the weary youth. After all, I was once weary... Weary and prepared for rest. But rest will wait, because I have a problem.❞

. . . . . . . . .

⟼ ❝Along my way into adulthood— Avenger-hood... I became tainted. No, I was already tainted. It awakened in a way I hadn’t predicted. I channeled elemental chaos in its darkest form. I channeled the demon known as Chthon. At this point, possession and I are synonymous. He used me to enact deeds darker than night. Oh, Oshtur! How could I fall prey to your villainous brother? There’s a point in this little walk down memory lane... I have to return to my roots. How else will I uproot the tree that is Chthon? He is slowly killing me and I can feel it. If I die, he will bring me back up to use as a vessel of vengeance... Unjust vengeance. And I can’t have that. However, I don’t think I’ll be allowing such to even near completion. I’ve began collecting what I need to end his existence. And I’ll use his grimoire to do so.❞

. . . . . . . . .

⤷ ❝The Book Of Sins— Darkhold! It contains ancient magic. Its words are stained with evil. Can I use it to my advantage? Can I use darkness to make light? If I can make chaos into order, then yes... At least I believe so. It’s worth a shot. So far I’ve gathered Vengeance’s Breath, Gaea’s Essence, and Witchcraft’s Tears. If I die, someone tell Strange... He may be the only one who can stop me. He may be the only soul able to contain my darkness. Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme versus Hell’s Overlord. I seem to have horrid nightmares now. These infernal visions are the worst. I see blood raining down. I hear the horns blowing... And... And I see Pietro— Dead.❞

. . . . . . . . .

↳ ❝It’s difficult being strong. Then again, it’s always been a struggle. I walk between the light and darkness. I am an agent of balance. However, you all know me better as The Scarlet Witch. One who is of magical descent. One who doesn’t submit to the demands of evil. Chthon thinks he has won! Everyone always thinks that... And they’re never right. Never look away from me as I am weaving spells! After all, Chthon, I am of your power! Your power will undo your existence! Won’t it? I smile because I’m confident. You hide because you are cowardly. I have loved ones backing me! I have the power of Oshtur behind my wings! Don’t worry— For I will remain unfazed! I will forever be an Avenger!❞

[academyguide]

Magic. The word alone is temptation for men one too many times, especially for them who seeks 'miracle'. In Islam, however, the practice of sihr (magic, which means something that is hidden and its cause is unknown) is an act of kufr (disbelief); therefore magic and sorcery is forbidden is is considered haram. Even the act of believing in it without practicing it is also haram. Magic here, means sorcery, witchcraft, fortune-telling and occults. It should to be noted but the so called magic used for entertainment, such as magic shows is not prohibited by Islam provided that the 'magicians' do not violate any of the dictates of Islam in any way.Practitioners of magic (Muslims, that is) believe in magical power, a demonic power (as it is said that one cannot attain sorcery without seeking the help of the devil), and would often worship it. As such, they would then claim that there is other greater power aside than Allah when as Muslims, they are to, and must, accept only Allah as the one and only God, the powerful one. Believing in any other supreme being would be an act of disbelief towards Allah. Learning magic is also an act of disbelief because they claim to have magical powers, when such powers can only exist in the Almighty himself.The Prophet mentions this,"Whoever goes to a fortune-teller or a soothsayer and believes in what he says has disbelieved in what was revealed to Muhammad."Since magic is believed to be as powerful as God, it would be no different than to associate sorcery with Allah. And the act of associating anything or anyone with God in manners of worship is a great sin that comes with severe punishment. Al-Maaidah 5:72 says:"Verily whoever sets up partners with Allah, then Allah has forbidden Paradise for him and the fire will be his abode. And for the Zalimun (Polytheists, and wrongdoers) there are no helpers."This is further evidenced by the warnings of the messenger of God:"Keep away from the seven destructive sins!" They said, "What are they, O Messenger of Allah?" He answered, "Associating partners with Allah; practicing sorcery; taking a life, which Allah has made forbidden except for a just cause (according to Islamic Law); eating Riba (usury) eating up an orphan's wealth; fleeing from the battle field at the time of fighting (with the unbelievers); and accusing chaste women, who never think of anything that can touch their chastity and who are good believers, of fornication.Besides that, sorcerers would manipulate simple-minded, naive folks in to believing their power and thus magic as well. These lead the believers towards magic, and hence lead them away from God. Such act is considered evil or Satanic, for only Satan seeks to remove the believers from their faith in God.Another reason why sorcery and magic is a sin is due to its influences and consequences. Sorcery tempts men with evil and causes a family to break apart. It manipulates the weak-minded, dominates their mind and influences them to do bad deeds. More often than, men seeks magic to instill harm unto other beings. Again, leading men towards evil instead goodness.Magic is hardly ever used for good purposes, though some would claim that, calling it white magic. But even if magic is used for good intentions, it remains a fact that it is dependent on unnatural powers and abilities, something that is not God-give (otherwise, He wouldn't have forbid it). Not to mention that the practice of white magic is a slippery slope to descending to black magic, which generally harms all and benefits none. Source by Iris Pak

[doctorofmagic]

Stephen’s indelible sin

For those who follow me for a while, you’re probably aware that I speak of guilt and self-loathing A LOT when it comes to Stephen. Once I wrote about his most terrible sin, but since then, I’ve gathered MORE information concerning Stephen and Hulk’s relationship. And, on a personal level, I think both fans and writers should explore this bond more, given their history.

Today, I’ll bring a detailed review on Stephen’s mistake and how it escalated into a pain that will never cease to exist within his heart and soul.

Warning: get your handkerchiefs ready, this is about to become sad quite rapidly.

We’ll begin our journey of angst in 1967, as seen in Strange Tales #156-157. In order to prevent Umar from walking on Earth, the Ancient One advises Stephen to release an evil and powerful demon called Zom. The demon is able to defeat Umar, but his strength is overwhelming, enough to give the Ancient One a hard time. Zom’s power is so evil and cursed that releasing him is a deed that catches the Living Tribunal’s (undue) attention. The Living Tribunal is so offended he wants to destroy Earth. And guess what? He blames Stephen, even though he was a mere apprentice imbued with blind obedience at that time.

The Living Tribunal imprisons Zom again, while Stephen convinces the deity that Earth deserves another chance. Stephen basically saves the planet, as usual, while Zom remains dormant for literally decades.

We’ll skip now to a not-so-canon event called “the birth of the Illuminati”, or “how Stephen ruined his life for good out of arrogance and toxic masculinity”. It’s uncertain when they first gathered to boss around the planet, but according to History Of The Marvel Universe #3 (2019) and New Avengers: Illuminati #1 (2007), they made this decision after the Kree/Skrull War, creating a secret council to answer for all humanity, even though humanity itself wasn’t aware of those dubious representatives. The Kree/Skrull war dates back to 1971, which means they spent decades plotting their hidden agendas.

Still, they’re heroes, right? They wouldn’t harm people, would they? They wouldn’t harm their friends or make mistakes. They’re supposed to be the smartest, most powerful people on Earth. Oh. Let me tell you something. Their very first mission was the reason why we had Civil War and Secret Invasion. Yes. It’s their fault that the Skrulls invaded Earth. And yes, Stephen is to blame because he was there with the group when they first threatned the Skrulls never to come back, or else they’d face them. Hah.

However, this is not his indelible sin. As you all know, what I consider an irreparable mistake was sending Hulk to Sakaar. And what’s even worse? It wasn’t the first time that Stephen tried to banish Hulk, as seen in The Incredible Hulk v1 #305 (1985).

But why is Stephen so haunted by banishing a menace? Because Hulk was, foremost, a dearest friend.

From Defenders v1 #12 (1973)

When it comes to Hulk’s friendships, people always think of Rick Jones, Amadeus Cho, even his cousin Jennifer Walters. But few people remember that Stephen and Valkyrie were two of the first heroes to treat Hulk kindly and with respect, even though Hulk always called Stephen names (the most iconic, “dumb magician”, which is a personal favorite of mine).

Stephen has always treated Hulk as an equal, as someone who is so much more than a mindless brute. So it’s really strange for me to read that, at some point, Stephen tried to banish him twice.

Sadly, it happened. The first was not as iconic as the second, though. So I’m focusing on the latter. Remember the Illuminati? The group thought they had the right to decide Hulk’s fate after he went berserk and destroyed Las Vegas. And Stephen agreed to it. Namor, who was also a member of the Defenders along with Stephen and Hulk, was the only one who refused, as seen in New Avengers: Illuminati One-Shot (2006). The three of them were the original members. Stephen should’ve known better. So why would he agree to this?

Because, again, the Illuminati are a very dubious group whose foundations are based on toxic masculinity. Powerful, egoic men left unchecked. And Stephen, as Earth’s most powerful sorcerer, couldn’t resist the call. The Ancient One was dead. The mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme was his. Clea left him years later - and he never told her about his dirty little secret, something that is subtly confirmed somewhere between New Avengers: Illuminati #4 (2007) and Avengers v4 #9 (2011).

Thus, it seems that Stephen, at some point, decided that he was better than everyone around him, a trait that was supposed to be buried in the past along with his arrogant neurosurgeon self. The kind man who has always praised his allies was now gone.

Except... World War Hulk happened. Long story short, Hulk ended up in Sakaar and found a new life after defeating his captor. He married and became king, and he was happy (you can get a very shady glimpse of this story in MCU’s Thor: Ragnarok, but that version is quite family friendly. World War Hulk is far worse). But then, the ship which the Illuminati created to send him into space exploded, killing his wife in the process. Spoiler: it wasn’t the Illuminati. It was Miek, who framed the Illuminati so Hulk would call revenge upon them. Enraged as never seen before, Hulk was truly decided to kill Reed, Tony, Black Bolt and... yes, Stephen.

At first, Stephen tried to reason with him. But Hulk’s hatred was beyond words. Stephen had all his fingers broken, ouch. Imagine his pain, assuming his hands were once injured in the car accident and still hurt from the damage and all the surgeries he has been through...

Now, as you know, Stephen is stubborn as hell. Remember the demon Zom? When everything else failed to stop the Hulk, Stephen finally corrupted his soul and let the demon possess him. Obviously, he lost control and almost harmed innocent people, which was enough for him to be distracted long enough for Hulk to finish him off.

In the end, Hulk discovered the truth behind the explosion and, after a rage outburst, transformed back to Banner. Stephen almost died that day by the hands of his friend. But he didn’t. All that was left from that sad event was guilt. Endless, heavy guilt.

One could arguee that Stephen is out of character. And I would’ve agreed with you, except... Nor time nor actions were good enough to heal Stephen’s heart. It never went away. Never.

The reason why he forfeited the mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme? Because he used Zom’s dark magic and hurt Bruce deeply. And that affected him on so many levels that he didn’t find himself worthy anymore.

From New Avengers v1 Annual #2 (2008).

It didn’t stop there. He tried time and time again. He was never able to find the proper words to apologize because he knows words will never heal the pain he inflicted on his friend.

These thoughts are Stephen’s. “Two words I’ll repeat for the rest of my days. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” (From Incredible Hulks #618)

And poor Stephen even goes and tries to compensate his lack of expertise when it comes to interpersonal relationships, projecting his relationship with Hulk into, well, another Hulk. He’s so afraid of making the same mistakes he doesn’t even know where the line is drawn.

From Weapon H #2 (2018).

As I said, it will never go away. And Stephen knows it.

From Defenders v4 #1 (2011).

The point is, people make mistakes. And sometimes these mistakes are just too painful to be erased. Stephen strongly believes he’ll never be forgiven, which is quite sad because this sin will always be a source of guilt for him. Whether or not Hulk forgives Stephen in the future, it will always remain a burden.

Personally, I believe that blaming himself for what happened to Hulk is even worse than blaming himself for Clea’s departure. Because, see, Clea has forgiven Stephen over the years. They still love each other and, once you ignore Fearless Defenders, there’s no sin. They both agreed to take separate ways, even though their love still existed.

But Hulk? It’s a story about betrayal between friends. It’s quite cruel and sad for both sides. I can only hope that, someday, a writer will make it up for them. They deserve another chance. And, as unreliable as I am, all I want to see is a happy Stephen.