#Taj Burrow

[cbssurfer]

🌐 Taj Burrow 💙

📍Somewhere in Western 🇦🇺

🚁 📷 Andrew Semark

#surf #surfer #surf life #surfing #surf paradise

[dakinewave]

Taj Burrow

[comatosebunny09]

moonlight serenade

genre: fluff, modern au warnings: suggestive, female anatomy, sleepy boi kyo music inspo: dreamscape (slowed) - austin farwell new home (slowed) - austin farwell

Imagine being aboard one of those luxury trains. The ones with fancy sleeper cars decked out like the Taj Mahal, traveling from London to Venice to regroup for another mission.

You’re cozy on the bed, the soothing vibrations of the train gliding along its tracks, lulling you into tranquility.

The pale moon shines through your window, competing with the blue light of your phone dancing over your features as you passively review your next assignment.

This one will be alone, much to your dismay. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

In the meantime, the door slides shut behind you, followed by the quiet click of the lock. You don’t bother turning around as the train car’s pressure shifts, along with a familiar woodsy scent infiltrating your senses.

Leisurely footsteps round the bed. The mattress dips beneath the weight of the room’s new inhabitant. The comforter lifts, allowing another tired body to slink beneath it.

You don’t bat an eye as sinewy arms wind around your shoulders, hauling you back into the homely warmth of a lean body. Nor do you flinch when damp strands tickle your neck whilst he burrows his chin into the junction of your shoulder. You do make yourself more comfortable, nestling your bum into his pelvis, his legs tangled with yours. You chuckle gruffly, branding his forearm with a kiss.

His response is a throaty groan, scratchy like sandpaper. You can taste the exhaustion in his tone. Feel it in how he melts against you, pressing his lips to your shoulder as if he intends to siphon all the heat from your body.

“I take it your shower went well,” you say whilst a ghostly smile teases your features. Kyojuro huffs, too weary to conjure up something coherent.

With your phone tucked beneath your pillow, you reach back to tangle your fingers in his hair, nails grazing his scalp, eliciting appreciative murmurs from him. His hold on you tightens as if he’s afraid you’ll drift away. He nuzzles further against your nape, his lips imparting on a slothful journey down to your shoulder blade.

You watch the scenery skate by with shuttered lashes and pursed lips. Ghostly silhouettes of trees and the occasional railway light flickering in and out of focus. It’s beautiful, much like the man settled behind you.

A dexterous hand makes its way down to the swell of your hips, kneading and burning through your night shorts. Fingers gangly like spider limbs search for the hem of your shirt to draw it skyward. They creep beneath the thin cloth on an unhurried excursion to your rib cage. Artful as they brush the skin just shy of your right breast.

You whimper against the tickling sensation, idly notching your hips against your lover’s, evoking a satisfied purr from him. He nibbles on your neck, content with teasing you like this until you’re a giggling mess. Tiptoeing below your bosom, fingertips gliding between the valley of your breasts and across your collarbones.

Just when you think he will finally reward you for your patience, his hand retreats from beneath your shirt, alongside the hot suction of his mouth from your shoulder. He instead snakes his arms around your middle, pulling you impossibly closer. He whispers, his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, “Too tired. Promise to make it up to you later, my love.”

Though your body whirrs in protest, you concede, relaxing in his embrace. You smile the smallest of smiles, allowing the gentle rumble of the train to tow you both under.

#rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer fanfic #kny fanfic #kyojuro rengoku #kny reader insert #rengoku fluff #kyojuro fluff #just musing

[isnt-it-pretty]

WIP #6

I posted a wip of Lisa visiting Sumeru a while ago, so here's another. This one is set after the archon quest and deals with Cyno's trauma + insomnia

-

Cyno couldn't sleep. He wanted to, but dreams haunted his respite like fingernails on flint, memories buzzing just beneath his skin until he wanted nothing more than to claw them free. Insomnia had always been a struggle for him, but with the Akasha no longer harvesting dreams, it left them free to disturb him. The crowds in Sumeru City didn't help--he never liked them, and couldn't help but search shadows and rooftops of adversaries they might have missed. His anxiety had steadily mounted since disposing of the Grand Sages, paranoia clinging to his thoughts.

What if one of Azar's allies made a move against them? What if they didn't find all the loyalists inside the Akademiya? What if they went after Collei or Tighnari or Kaveh-

Had he made the right decisions? There was no way to know, but when the sky was dark and Cyno couldn't sleep, he went over them, re-examining every scrap of knowledge he had available. It was a futile endeavour, and yet he couldn't stop.

He leaned against the window in his office, enjoying the cool glass against his skin. Exhaustion called to him, but Cyno couldn't bear the memories.

Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he saw the Court of Desolation and its endless sands. He pictured Taj's body crushed by rock, swallowed by the deserts. Others, he remembered what it was like to be too small to fight back, barely a child pitted against adults who had no fear of harming him, the way his fingers broke as he struggled to block blunted strikes. He remembered Azar, too, the things that could have gone wrong had he not met the Traveler. Tighnari's corpse left to rot in the forest, Collei once again subjected to the whims of the Doctor. It was enough to make him feel insane, the thoughts cycling in his head until they were barely distinguishable from each other, just a knot in his chest that beat in time with his frantic heart.

He should go to Cyrus, Cyno knew that. He always had in the past when the memories were too much, when fear prickled across his skin like insects burrowing into his flesh. But then he would have to explain the truth of what occured, and Cyrus would worry the way he always did when Cyno was involved in something dangerous and-

He took a deep breath and slowly released it, trying to calm himself. Outside, the sky was coloured gold with dawn.

Things had just been so overwhelming recently. He didn't know how to handle it, and wasn't that shameful? He was the General Mahamatra, and yet his archon had been forced to step in and order him to take time off.

He hadn't told Tighnari that. Maybe, if he didn't, he could continue this balancing act of pretending everything was fine, that he wasn't falling apart at the seams beneath the weight of his own memories.

Kaveh noticed, his concern manifesting in sharing cups of coffee at the Pupsa Cafe over cards and the promise of a sympathetic ear. Lisa would, too, as soon as she saw him. His history with these struggles was well known to them both. They had been there for his worst years, when even going to class was a struggle. Bringing him food and studying quietly in his room but commonplace, then. He hadn't been able to handle the cafeteria, or the House of Deana-- too vigilant of the eyes that trailed him, the people who wanted to see him hurt.

Tighnari didn't press when Cyno avoided the topic, but he knew he was worried. He just didn't know how to explain, how to put his thoughts into words.

#genshin #my writing #my wips #snippets #hurting cyno like it's my god given right #sometimes I'm creative

[stewardofningishzida]

Stephen Strange Meta-Fic Sequel Chapter 8: Tibetan Witch Project

We’re baaaaack!~ Sorry for the delay! Life happened to all of us. Without further ado, here we gooooo! Agatha Harkness coming in hot with full witchy glory!

TRIGGER WARNING: Scary situations, mental breakdown, kidnapping, implied torture, death threats

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*With Agatha Harkness now at large, it’s only a matter of time before she finds out who warned the sorcerers about her and Wanda.  The sorcerers brief the others on who Agatha is.  Keeping this in mind, Tear, PrettyWitch, Trix, and I now need to be put under guard.  Otherwise, the witch will hunt us all down.  We’re overwhelmed by the situation and virtually frozen in terror as the heroes catch up and discuss what to do with us.*

Fury: So we need to set up protective custody then… *looks at the others* I’m assuming you don’t want to do so here.

Tony: *Scoffs* Please, SHIELD cannot even stop any sort of portals from opening inside their premises. You really think you can fight against a four-hundred-year-old crazed witch? It’ll be a bloodbath, Fury.

Steve (worried, but also having a nasty feeling about what might happen):  We might need to close the interdimensional portal in case Agatha decides to try and take hostages from your home world.

Tony: *He points at Steve, seconding his concern* Your families are still safe for now, and we’ll work to ensure they remain so. But it’s never a dumb idea to take precautions.

Stephen:  Kamar-Taj is a magical stronghold.  We can conceal the girls there and our sorcerers can defend the place.

Wong:  I will alert our forces.

Tony: You’ll need backup.

Fury: I need as much information on this rogue as possible if she can do this amount of damage. Get the ladies to safety then we’re going to have a chat. *he looks even sterner than before*

Stephen:  I’ll provide the info.  Girls, go with Wong.

Tear: Wha–? Right now? Stephen, you’re literally bleeding on Fury’s white floor. Both you and Wong should be back at Kamar-Taj too.

Stephen:  It’s better if we make sure you’re all off the playing field as quickly as possible.  If we hide you now and fortify Kamar-Taj, it’ll be harder for Agatha to find and get to you.  Don’t worry about me.  We’ve both had worse.  Go.

Trix: *looks at the others* I think we might’ve fucked shit up in a different way than we expected.

*I nod at Trix numbly.*

PrettyWitch: Ah, don’t say that. How could we have known?

Wong:  Come.  I will lead you to the safest chambers of Kamar-Taj.  

*He beckons us and we follow him through the portal as Stephen stays back to brief Fury, Tony, and Steve.  The mystical compound is swarming with activity as the sorcerers fortify the place.  Wong leads us deeper and deeper into the buildings.  It truly is enormous and seems to burrow into the very stone beneath the mountains.  We have to stay close to keep up with him.  Otherwise, we would easily be lost in the labyrinth of chambers and corridors*

Trix: This is starting to feel eerily familiar and I swear to god we are getting rid of any reflective surfaces because I am not about that scary bullshit. *she’s incredibly nervous and fidgeting but is trying to at least act brave*

Me (grasping at straws):  We all remember at least our basic shield spells and a couple of offensive ones, right?

Tear: …Are sorcerers allowed to carry guns? Shotguns usually work against those that just refuse to die.

Me:  Honestly, I have no idea.  Unless we catch her off-guard, I don’t think it would help much.

PrettyWitch: We’re gonna die, aren’t we!?

Wong:  I will personally see to it that there will be no way for Agatha to get through.

*We eventually reach a small room nestled within several other rooms, each one giving off its own peculiar energy.  Putting two and two together, we realize that we’re passing through several layers of magical wards.  The room itself is small and well-lit with no mirrors.  It has a couple of bunk beds, some emergency supplies, and a radio.  There is also a sink, chemical toilet, and a shower curtain for modesty and hygiene purposes.  Otherwise, there isn’t much to minimize any risk of the room’s integrity becoming compromised.*

Me (sincere, in case I don’t get to say it again):  Thank you, Wong.  Also, extend our thanks to Stephen, the Avengers, and everyone else working so hard to protect and help us and our home world.  Please do your best to get out of this in one piece.  We really do look up to and care about you all.  *I’m grim, scared, and trying to stay composed.  Though I really am terrified that this might be the last time we see someone.*

Trix: Yeah, we greatly appreciate everything you’ve all done for us and our universe. I just wish we didn’t make this so difficult for you all. *she continues to fidget and honestly feels incredibly guilty for what’s going on since she’s the one who explained what was going on in Westview*

Tear: Yeah, please be very careful. When we first met Stephen, we never expected any of you to be so kind and supportive. We’ll never be able to repay you how much you’ve done for us.

PrettyWitch: I’m not sure what else to add but thank you, Wong for everything you’ve done for us. It’s been an honor to meet you. Stephen is truly lucky to have you for a friend.

Wong (surprisingly gentle):  We are simply performing our duties.  Thank you for helping Stephen and for being cooperative and kind.  We shall meet again.  *He says the last part to reassure us.  Even then, seeing as there is an afterlife, he isn’t exactly lying if things go badly.*

Trix: *she kind of inches closer to Wong* Depending on how things might go, can we at least have a hug from one of our best teachers? *makes puppy dog eyes at Wong*

Wong (sighing):  Very well.  Then, I must go back and finish preparations.  After I shut this door, stay here and do not leave until either Stephen or I come get you.  Do not open the door from the inside under any circumstance.  Understood?

Me (shakily):  Yes, sir.

Trix: Absolutely! *she absolutely takes advantage of this rare opportunity and goes for a bear hug because not only is it Wong, she is genuinely terrified*

*I’m still shy, but join in the hug.  After all, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do this again.*

Tear: *I quickly join the group hug* We love you, Wong. Please don’t let Stephen do anything stupid.

PrettyWitch: *She joins in the hug, too.*

*After we let go of him, he gives us a respectful nod and shuts us into the room together.  Now, we wait.*

Trix: Guys, I honestly feel really horrible that we accidentally kicked off Multiverse of Madness. Hell, us jumping universes to escape crazy monsters should have been our first clue. *she flops onto the nearest bunk bed face first and groans loudly into the pillow*

Tear: Not one of our brightest moments, in hindsight…

Me (grim):  It seems the timeline was going to progress in one way or another…I said plenty as well.  All of this to avert it and now look…

PrettyWitch: Hey, don’t be like that. If it didn’t happen this way, it would’ve happened another way. 

Trix: *she sits back up on the bed* I mean, it’s either better or worse that it’s Agatha. Better in that she isn’t as instantly powerful as Wanda. Bad in that she knows the darkhold and her magic so well over the centuries and we don’t know exactly what she’s capable of. Coven of Chaos didn’t even have leaks yet. She isn’t like the comics either.

Me:  How long before you think she’ll find out?  

Trix: I give us a week, tops. If even that long. With a lot of the major superheroes disappearing at once it might raise red flags that something is up.

Tear: I’d give it less than that. If she’s really studied the Darkhold for centuries, then she must be well versed in the existence of alternate universes already. Actually getting to visit the multiverse rather than dreamwalking must be really tempting for her.

PrettyWitch: I hadn’t even thought of that.

Me (peering at the “bathroom”):  At least the sink has a matte finish…Small mercies.

Trix: I miss our Chupacabra.

*The sorcerers have fortified Kamar-Taj.  It’s a long, tense wait.  Yet, it seems, the attack never came.  At least, it doesn’t seem like it.  If anything, this apparent calm only makes Stephen and Wong feel even worse.  They know something is coming, but have no idea when or how.  Several days pass.  Caution fatigue is beginning to take root in the guards’ forces.  A few of the more skeptical members of the Order are starting to become complacent.  Meanwhile, in our sanctuary; we’re cooped up, wracked with guilt over what’s happening, and beginning to get on each others’ nerves thanks to being stuck in one room together with no real privacy or way out.*

*I’m currently sitting on my bed with my headphones on since they were in my purse.  I’m playing music in an attempt to distract myself and tune out from everything.  With what’s going on and the helplessness we’re experiencing, I’ve begun to disassociate as a defense mechanism.  It feels like the only way to stay remotely calm right now.  I’m numb and have been partially blaming myself for not seeing this coming.*

*Prettywitch is beside herself. On the one hand, she’s terrified. On the other, she feels a sense of calm, like somehow this will all work out. Unfortunately, it’s the fear that keeps coming back to her, like an endless feedback loop. She does have one idea forming in her head that’s positive, one that might help them and their friends.*

*Trix has been doing her best to practice meditating the past few days and seems to be having a better time of it. She has been getting more and more paranoid that she is bothering the others by doing anything so she tries to stay as inconspicuous as possible and is barely talking or eating at this point.*

*Tear has spent most of her time sketching to pass the time and studying from the spellbooks Wong allowed them to bring in with them. Her bout of insomnia returned with a vengeance, but the longest things stay quiet outside in the temple the more confident she feels that Wong and Stephen have had plenty of time to heal, strategize, and set their defenses. She has kept relatively quiet so as to not aggravate the others, who seem to be getting antsy after being holed up for so many days.*

*While we take refuge, Agatha has been plotting from the shadows.  She has slowly managed to compromise some of the more complacent and skeptical guards, until she is finally ready to strike. She subtly nudges them towards leaving their posts for a break.  While she has an opening, she slips in, all the while, mentally scanning for any anomalous magical signatures.  Deep below the complex, she detects 4 magical signatures that are slightly “off”.  Bingo.  She locks onto the girls and enters the lower levels, taking care not to cast anything yet to avoid detection.  Once she’s within a reasonable range to affect us and remain hidden, she conceals herself and begins to concentrate, using our own magical energy as a conduit to mentally penetrate our sanctuary.  While doing this, she looks for a weakness.  Any weakness will do.*

*Trix is trying to meditate but as the days have gone by, intrusive thoughts can’t help but creep into her mind. Why is she even here if she’s just a liability? The others are already a lot better while she falls over at someone talking or even just a book. She frowns as her thoughts get even darker. Were the others just putting up with her since she could be dangerous to herself? She was just a tag-along after all and couldn’t even pull off spells that weren’t defensive. Wong and Stephen probably pitied her and put in the token effort so that she didn’t kill herself accidentally. At these thoughts, Trix’s eyes shoot open and her lip quivers as she tries not to react. She doesn’t want to bother the others after all. She would be annoyed with her too. Trix scrambles to her feet and begins to pace the room, unable to stay still but hating herself for needing to do so.*

*I notice Trix’s pacing, but don’t react much more than simply looking up to watch her silently, my music still on.  My expression is as empty and emotionless as it has been for the past couple of days.*

Prettywitch: You okay, Trix? You don’t look so good.

Trix: *she just sort of whines quietly for a moment before pausing and just grabbing at her hair* Yes- yes I’m fine. Don’t worry about it- just…ah. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m the least of anyone’s problems here. *She starts to get aggravated again and begins biting at her lip enough to draw blood*

Tear: *I look up from a sketch of Wong I’ve been working on, curious over the commotion* Are you feeling claustrophobic?

*I silently put my headphones away to listen.*

Me (plainly):  You’re biting your lip.

Trix: *her eyes are wide and slightly crazed* It’s fine! It’ll heal! There are much more important things to worry about right now. Besides, it’s not that bad! You guys don’t have to worry about me at all! *she laughs slightly but it dies off awkwardly as she realizes the others are still staring at her*

Tear: You say that as if worrying is an activity that could actually accomplish something. It’s not as if us caring about you will make us unproductive.

Me (offering, though not feeling anything):  Music?  *I offer my headphones.*

Trix: *getting a bit more worked up* No no no no, if the headphones are helping you I don’t want to take that away! I’m not worth the trouble. You focus on feeling better and if you need me to do anything I can help! *mutters to herself and starts pacing again* it’s not like I’m worth doing something over anyway, I might as well keep myself useful… *she gets stuck in her own spiraling thoughts again and keeps pacing*

Me:  Mm’kay.  *I watch Trix for a while before my eyes unfocus and I stare blankly into the middle distance.*

Tear: *I tilt my head to the side, thinking* Here, I do need some help. Could you please quiz me on how to draw these transmutation circles? I can’t really do it alone.

*Trix is too lost in her thoughts to respond but sits down next to Tear and begins absent-mindedly looking through the notes* 

Prettywitch: *Taps Steward’s shoulder to get her attention while the others are distracted.* Hey. You think we should call Stephen and Wong about Trix? I know we’re all freaked out, but…I think something might seriously be wrong with her.

Me (emotionless):  How?  No cell signal below all of the rock and any spellcasting won’t make it past the wards.

Prettywitch: Oh. Right. *She places her chin in her hand to think.* Well, what if we tried telepathy? That’s gotta work.

Me:  I guess.  We haven’t touched it much yet, but it’s worth a shot.  *I shrug*

Prettywitch: Awesome! Okay, let me try. *She places her fingers on her temples and starts rubbing them.* Stephen Strange! Stephen Strange! Portal to girls! Portal to girls!

Trix: *she starts flinching uncontrollably and grips her head as her thoughts begin to spiral even more. She drops Tear’s notes and shoots back to her feet to get some distance between them. She leans up against the wall and slides down it as she begins to hyperventilate* I don’t even know why everyone is even bothering! *she laughs and begins to rock back and forth* I’m not worth it! I’m the weak link! You would all be further along and safer without me here! I just happened to stumble into all of this because I happened to see Stephen back at the house originally like a creeper! Now you all have to deal with me! *she is becoming more and more unhinged as she is falling deeper into a pit of depression and anxiety*

Me (slowly starting to return to reality):  Trix…?  N-No, it’s not like that.  You’re fine.  We’ve all got strengths and weaknesses.  *I’m finally starting to look concerned.*

Tear: *I put my work aside and stand up but don’t crowd Trix. I’m clearly alarmed now, but I keep my stance and tone kind* I know impostor syndrome can feel overwhelming sometimes. We’ve all been there. What brought these thoughts up right now?

*Meanwhile, PrettyWitch doesn’t feel or hear any answer.  It’s uncertain if the message went through or not.*

Trix: *her eyes are almost glazed over at this point* It’s always been the truth! I’ve just been a coward No- I refuse to bring you all down with me. You’re going to save the universe! I’m just going to faint when I see a book or go anywhere outside! The last things that I love I can’t even do anymore! I can’t do this anymore! *she scrambles to her feet* Agatha probably isn’t even coming anymore and this is just a test to see if we can handle ourselves like this! Well, surprise surprise: I failed again! I give up! I’m done! *she marches over to the door and begins to open it*

Me (snapping back to paying full attention):  Whoa whoa!  Wait.  WAIT.  *I get up quickly to try and stop her.*

PrettyWitch: Trix, don’t!

Tear: Trix, you’re not yourself! *I jerk her arm back from the doorknob and attempt to drag her away from the door, but an unexpected scratch to the cheek makes me instinctually drop my grip on her*

Trix: *she yanks open the door and it’s almost like opening a door outside in negative degree weather in her brain. An absolute cacophony of noise of hundreds of voices crashes into her mind and she doesn’t have her mental barriers up, too wound up from both her own thoughts and the onslaught of negative thoughts and intentions that have been weaving themselves into her head. Trix’s eyes roll back into her head as she collapses but disappears into a cloud of purple smoke before she hits the ground.*

Prettywitch: *She starts running towards Trix.* You wanna get killed!? Get back in here, you boob!

*I’m at the threshold of the door and dive over to try and catch Trix, but her body disappears into purple smoke.  I fall flat on my face, through the smoke, and am stunned for a half second. All around us, the dainty ringing of bells signals the breaking of a seal.*  

Me (realizing what just happened):  Oh God…*I look back at the outer walls of the room.  The wards are gone, having been broken by the opening of the door.*  

Tear: Wong’s spell… *I pale to a ghostly white in horror, still holding a hand to my stinging cheek*

PrettyWitch: *She takes a deep breath, trying not to panic.* Fuck! We’re boned, aren’t we?

Me:  She knows where we are…and the wards are broken…She has Trix…I’d say yes.  *I have a big “well, fuck!” expression plastered across my face.*

Prettywitch: So what do you think we should do? 

Me (grim):  Head up, I suppose.  That’s the only place we have backup.  Agatha will need Trix alive to really get any info, I’m sure.  So, if we can get to Stephen and Wong in time, we can figure out a way to get her back.

Tear: Wait. Wong and probably even Stephen must have been alerted when the spell broke. If they make their way down here and we move to look for them, we might end up missing each other.

Me:  Though it also took a long time to get down here in the first place.  If Agatha wants to snag or kill another one of us, she could very well have plenty of time to do it.  More if she messed with the hallways.  If we stay put, we’re sitting ducks.  If we leave, we might run into each other or at least be less of an easy target.  Dead if we do, dead if we don’t.  Might as well try to find them.

Prettywitch: *Smirks at Steward.* You took the words right out of my mouth. Alright, let’s go! *She runs out of the room.*

*We follow PrettyWitch.  There are already several corridors that open up to our chamber, each just as dark and foreboding.  Compared to our brightly-lit area, the hallways are pitch-black.*

Me:  Crap…Do we remember which way?

Tear: It’s been over a week! And these corridors definitely looked different when they were lit up on our way down.

Prettywitch: I think we take a right first? I can’t remember. 

Tear: That is if Agatha really hasn’t been able to overcome Kamar-Taj’s magic…

Me:  True.  Though with all of the sorcerers here, plus the Sorcerer Supreme AND the ex-Sorcerer Supreme, maybe that part is less likely.  She probably had to sneak in and probe through.  Let’s put it to a vote.  Everyone point at which way to go on the count of three.  One.  Two.  Three!

*We choose our respective corridors.  Two out of the three of us chose the northeast corridor.*

Me:  Guess it’s that way…Are we all comfortable with this?

Prettywitch: Yeah.

Tear: I don’t think we have much of a choice, anyway.

*We head into the dark hallway.  It’s cold and damp like a cave.  Since we’re still novices, we end up using our cell phone lights to shine a path.*

Tear: This is really bringing back bad memories, oh lord. *I hunch over slightly, tense as flashbacks of the mine Steward, Stephen and I visited come rushing back to the forefront of my thoughts*

Me (grim):  Yep…Everyone stay close and be careful, okay?  *I get in front of us protectively.*

*Meanwhile, at the surface, Stephen and Wong have detected the wards’ failures and rush to re-enter the basement.  However, they’re stopped by a handful of frenzied guards.*

Guard (staring wide-eyed at the two of them):  CONTACT!  TO YOUR STATIONS!  GO!  GO!  GO!

*He starts casting offensive spells at them.  Both sorcerers immediately put up their shields at the escalating barrage of trigger-happy guards.  Their eyes are wide and glazed over, indicating that they’re in the throes of panic.*

Wong:  Snap out of it!  *He barks as he telekinetically slams one of them against a pillar to stun them, hoping the sudden jolt will wake them up from whatever spell Agatha has them under.*

Stephen (snarky, but rushed):  I don’t think they’re going to have a breakthrough anytime soon!

*There’s a cackle of laughter before Agatha appears in a cloud of smoke between Stephen and Wong*

Agatha: Come on, they’re just doing their jobs! Clearly I am a very serious threat and have impersonated you to try and sneak down to where you have the girls! *she grins*

*Wong grunts as a particularly powerful group of spells gets barely deflected by his shields.  The guards are clearly not holding back.  Stephen ends up having to intervene and portals one of them on top of the others.*

Agatha: If anything you should be proud they’re trained so well and following your initial orders! You sorcerers are always so loyal *she sneers before disappearing again, reappearing behind the group of crazed sorcerers*

*While the group is untangling themselves after landing on each other, Stephen attempts to ensnare Agatha using the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak.  No time for banter.  He has novices to protect.*

*Agatha disappears into smoke as the bands hit where she just was. She reappears a couple feet to the right with a mocking shocked look*

Agatha: Wow, so rude. I’ve always heard you were a great conversationalist but I guess mama bear has to go protect his cubs. Too bad you’re already missing one. *she laughs again and disappears a final time, the smoke trailing into the entrance of the caves*

*Wong and Stephen exchange a stony look of dread and rush into the caves to find us.*

*Meanwhile, Tear, Prettywitch, and I are fumbling through the dark with no idea where to go when a cackle cuts through the darkness.*

Agatha’s voice: You know, your mama bear would have hid you better if he didn’t make a dead spot for me to find. Almost like an X marking the spot. *she sounds amused and her voice is echoing around them, not coming from any particular spot* For baby magic users, you’re certainly interesting, especially being adopted by Camp Sorcerer and the Avengers right away. You would have loved me as a teacher! In fact, let’s start with lesson one: How to survive. 

*The hallway we’re in rumbles and it begins to shift like a Rubik’s cube. We fall against each other and onto the new “floor.”*

Me (landing roughly):  OOF.

Prettywitch: Well, that’s just great! Now what are we gonna do!?

Tear: If she’s really powerful enough to be altering reality outside of the Mirror Dimension, then I don’t think there’s much we can do.

Agatha’s Voice: Y’know, I’ve never had acolytes before. I haven’t even been in a coven in ages. If you agree to tell me what you know, I’ll teach you everything that I know. Fair’s fair, ladies!

Me (angry):  Unless you return our version of Trix to us healthy, alive, and sane; that’ll only be in your dreams!

*A cloud of purple smoke appears directly in front of me and I’m suddenly staring into Agatha’s amused face.*

Agatha: No can do, sweetums. I can’t promise that because unfortunately she’s already broken. It’s why I wouldn’t mind a new gal pal or two. My new toy isn’t in mint condition anymore, but I suppose that’s my own fault. *she glides backwards into the darkness* Those wards were pesky to get through, and I had to use a bit more power than normal. Bad things tend to happen when you overpower a spell… *she visibly disappears but is still lingering in the hallway*

PrettyWitch: Jesus Christ, does she ever shut up!?

Tear: Even if she’s not bluffing, why do villains always think we’ll believe anything they say?

*I angrily throw a rock in Agatha’s direction.  Seeing as we’re not strong enough to continuously use magic yet, it’s the best I can do at long range.  Admittedly, I’m also just angry at this point.*

Agatha’s Voice: It’s entirely up to you whether you believe me or not. Not my funeral. Although if you don’t want to hear me talk anymore, I have plenty else to keep you busy.

*As she speaks, multiple pillars of purple smoke begin to form and begins to reveal classic horror movie monsters such as Frankenstein, Dracula, and The Mummy*

Agatha’s Voice: You’ll have to forgive me but I’m still in a bit of a TV mood from Westview before you meddling kids decided to send the wizard cops on me. *she sounds genuinely grumpy*

Me (raising an eyebrow):  Really?  I’ve seen scarier episodes of Scooby-Doo…*I scoff, unimpressed.*

Tear: *I quickly move my hands up to cover my mouth and nose* Ugh, she could have done without the smell though.

Agatha’s Voice: Sounds like you have it handled then. *She sounds amused and absolutely knows something the girls don’t* I have to go for now but I’ll check in with you ladies later. Hopefully your corpses keep the latent magical energy signature to study… *her presence seems to disappear but the three monsters begin to advance on the girls*

*Agatha’s tone raises some alarm bells in my mind.*

Me (quickly):  …We should choose another way.  Now.

Tear: What way? We are literally standing on the ceiling!

PrettyWitch: I don’t know! Let’s go back and take a left! 

*As we turn to race back down the corridor, we’re stopped by Dracula blocking the way.*

Me:  Crap…Wait a minute…*I grin widely for a second.*  Bye-bye!~

*I open a portal and move it to sweep up Frankenstein and the Mummy, dropping them out in the middle of the Mojave Desert before closing.  Though that large, mobile portal cast took a lot out of me.  Now, I have to take some time to recover before I can do anything like that again.  So, now there’s Agatha’s version of Dracula in all of his cheesy, cartoonish glory.*

Dracula (dramatic):  I VANT BLOOD!

Tear: Is this supposed to be scary? It feels like this bat is just offensive…

Prettywitch: *Her eyes widen.* Wait, is it…?

Me:  Don’t make eye contact, guys!  Hypnosis!

*The vampire turns into a bat and attempts to dive at me.  I duck, unable to use any magic at the moment.*

Tear: Quick, close your eyes! *I quickly perform one of the many spellcasting motions Wong first taught us. The golden spell thrums with energy in front of me before it releases a blinding flash of real sunlight. I’m unable to sustain it for long, but I hope it was enough against the cartoon villain.*

*Prettywitch and I shut our eyes as soon as Tear warns us. The bat screeches in agony as the light causes it to begin to burn and smoke.  It rapidly bursts into flames before falling into a pile of ashes.*

*Meanwhile, Stephen and Wong have descended into the next few levels of the Kamar-Taj dungeons.  The corridors are shifting and they know it.  Stephen orders Kamar-Taj to keep the remaining girls safely away from Agatha.*

*Agatha is still lurking around the labyrinth, however, she gets more and more frustrated as even her shadows are having trouble making it through the constantly shifting paths. Ever since the wards dropped it had been a free-for-all and while she isn’t tired, Agatha is getting more frustrated at being thwarted by essentially a home alert system. She recalls her shadows in order to track down at least one of the girls.*

Wong (low voice, to Stephen):  Stay alert, I sense Harkness’ presence.

*Stephen nods in acknowledgement, orbs of magical light drifting around the pair to keep the corridor illuminated as they descend.*

*It’s faint at first, but purple smoke begins to roll down the floor of the halls the deeper they go into the corridors. The air becomes more oppressive and heavy while the two sorcerers get the feeling they’re being watched*

Agatha’s Voice: Y’know, we can all walk away from this peacefully without getting hurt if I’m allowed out of here. No tricks, no mess.

*As she talks, Agatha emerges from the shadows with her arms outstretched in a ‘what can you do’ motion and a cocky smile on her face.*

Stephen (growling):  As if you’d keep your word.  You took a hostage.  *He glares at her, poised for a fight if needed.*

Agatha (trying not to laugh): And she’s physically unharmed! I just need a little insurance to get out of here and my own little baby sorcerer to learn about. Her magic and her friends are so…delicious. I just can’t help but want to know more. *she grins* Call it a favor for preventing me from stopping the rise of the Scarlet Witch. 

*Wong steps forward, keeping his cool.*

Wong:  You know as well as we do that the Scarlet Witch is a multiverse-level threat.  *While Wong is talking, Stephen subtly attempts to scan the area for any traces of one of the girls in an abnormal location.*

Agatha (scoffing): And you goodie-two-shoes sorcerers wouldn’t have had to deal with her if I was just allowed to take care of it myself. Wanda Maximoff is a ticking time bomb of PTSD and magic. She was isolated and I was working on it but nooooo. *she makes a disgusted face at the men*

Stephen (dripping with sarcasm, knowing how it would have played out):  Sure.  You had it handled…

*She turns to him, her mood flipping like a switch so she’s serious once more*

Agatha: See, that’s the interesting thing. You weren’t supposed to know what was going on. You got a sneak peek at the spoilers with no Time Stone. It just so happens that four baby sorcerers with no history here happen to appear out of nowhere after the Sorcerer Supreme in training had disappeared? Oh, that is an absolute gold mine and honey. I am feeling like a settler in 1850’s California.

*While Agatha monologues, Stephen feels something faint, but familiar.  One of the girls is here.  Somewhere…Stephen glares at her, seemingly looking up and down her person suspiciously.*

Agatha (coy): Why Doctor Strange, at least ask a lady to dinner first! *She then frowns* Since it looks like we aren’t going to do this the easy way, let’s do this the hard way!

*She gathers two orbs of purple smokey magic and fires them at the sorcerers and almost seems to flood the hallway with energy before she launches forward to attack.*

*Deeper in the tunnels, we hear the rumbling of the dungeon again and suddenly the entire corridor lurches; twisting, bending, rising, falling, closing, and opening in several directions.  In the flurry, Tear, Prettywitch, and I get separated from each other.  It feels like we’re falling back down into the abyss.  Despite the event only lasting a few seconds, it feels like it will never stop.  Then, as suddenly as it begins, it stops.  It’s silent and the hallways look as though absolutely nothing happened.  Yet, there we are, lost and alone in the dark.*

*Prettywitch is surrounded by pitch-black with no sounds or signs of her friends.  She was knocked over while the corridor shifted.  So, she can at least feel the cold, hard floor underneath her.*

Prettywitch: Where am I…? *She looks around to see if she can see anything else. Nothing. Just pitch, dark blackness as far as her eyes can see. She sighs and gets up.* Well, let’s see if I can find an exit.

*She gets up and decides to create some light. She thrusts out her hand and thinks of conjuring a small, fluorescent orb to hold in her hand. It works, though just barely.*

Prettywitch: *She raised an eyebrow.* Hmmm…Close enough, I guess.

*There is a faint sound, barely audible.  It seems to be coming from just out of range of the light.  It’s too hard to make it out.*

Prettywitch: *She turns.* Who’s there? *She thrusts the ball up in the direction she heard the sound coming from. Nothing. She pouts.* Okay, this is starting to get annoying! *She sighs.* Why can’t I magic a deck of Clow Cards and a wand into my hand!? That’d be so much better, right now!

*The sound is back, slightly louder, but muffled.  It’s still soft so she has to strain to listen. It seems to be coming from the left-hand corridor.  The sound appears to be a male voice.  Maybe Stephen or Wong?  It’s hard to say.*

Voice (muffled and distant):  Girls!  Girls!

Prettywitch: *She gasps* Wong!? Stephen!? Is that you? *She moves forward, cautiously.*

*It goes quiet again for a moment.  Then, she hears it again, very slightly clearer.*

Voice:  Help!

*She jumps, scared at the voice. She catches her breath and moves forward slightly, again.*

Voice (just beyond her sight):  Please.  Come here.

*She’s still not convinced.*

Prettywitch: Not until you tell me who you are.

Voice:  Show me your face.  Are you the witch?  *As she listens more, there is something “off” about it.*

Prettywitch: What do you mean?

Voice:  It is dangerous here.  Step forth and reveal yourself, mage.

Prettywitch: *She remains firm in her resolve.* Not until you tell me who you are!

Voice (weakening):  Please…*It sounds almost like one of the men in pain.*

Prettywitch: *She rolls her eyes. Clearly, this was getting her nowhere. So, she slowly walks a little bit closer, hoping to see something but prepping herself to run. Just in case.*

*There is a faint, alluring glow at the end of the corridor.  It’s…compellingly interesting.*

*She decides to take one final step forward. If she likes what she sees? Great! If not…? Well, she’ll cross that bridge when she gets there. She holds the ball up higher to get a better view.*

*The glow of her ball seems to diminish the tantalizing glow of whatever is at the end of the corridor.  Somehow, it seems to want her to keep moving forward.  What could be there?  The curiosity is starting to play on her mind.*

Prettywitch: *Shakes her head.* Yeah, I’m running. *She starts running the other way.*

*She runs, but it doesn’t seem like she’s going anywhere.  The floor seems to move with her, attempting to drag her towards the even-more compelling and intensifying glow behind her.*

Prettywitch: *Whines terrified.* What do I do!!!!? Why can’t I just have a magic staff or something…Hey, wait a minute. That’s it! *She gets up, wobbling a bit from the force of the floor moving, and presses her hands together to create a magic weapon. Her weapon? The bird wand from Cardcaptor Sakura. She gets starry-eyed.* Hey, it worked! *Until she notices one of the wings is fading in and out like a blinking light.* Sort of. Oh, whatever! *Next, she creates a magic construct in the form of a Clow Card; The Light Card, specifically. She twirls the wand in her hand and holds the card out with the other.* Reveal to me the path that will take me to my salvation! Light! *She taps the card and it activates. Unlike the anime & manga, where it takes the form of a beautiful woman in white, it merely creates a ray that shows her which way to go. She smiles.* Thank you! *She starts to run in that direction.*

*Prettywitch breaks free of the moving floor by changing direction quickly.  After the adrenaline rush wears off, she feels exhaustion hit her like a wall.  Her limbs feel like they’re made of wet cement and the ray of light begins to fade.  It takes a massive amount of concentration to keep it visible.  She has exhausted her magical energy with such a strong cast.  Though it was commendable for a novice.*

Prettywitch: *She stops to catch her breath.* Curse me for a novice…I forgot I’m not used to exerting this much energy. Oh wait…I am a novice!... *She looks up at the road ahead of her.* Well, the light was clearly pointing me in that direction, so I’ll just keep heading that way. *She takes one, long stride forward…only to nearly fall over from exhaustion.* You know what? I’ll just walk the rest of the way. *She begins walking in the direction the light told her to go.*

*Meanwhile, somewhere else within the labyrinth, I get back up after being sent tumbling down a short staircase.*

Me (grumbling):  Ow…

*I listen for the others and attempt to look around.  It’s silent and pitch-black.*

Me (grumpily):  Wonderful…

*I turn the light on my phone for now to save magical energy in case I need it and pick a direction to go.  I stick to the right wall to follow so I can at least orient myself that way.  In the chaos, I dropped my spiritual shield.  Yet, the clingy ghost who follows me doesn’t snark at me the way he usually does.  It’s more or a stony silence on my end, but the ghost seems…resigned.*

Ghost:  Look, could you please talk to me or even look at me again?  I feel like I’m back to being completely invisible.

*I ignore him.*

Ghost:  I’m sorry, okay?  I’m a huge dick!  I was bored!

Me (bitter):  Are you, though?  *Referring to his apology.  Words are cheap, after all.  He didn’t seem sincere to me.*

Ghost:  What do you want from me, woman?!

Me:  I don’t want anything from you.  Just leave me alone.

*He sighs*

Ghost:  You know damn well that I can’t at this point.  I bound myself to you.  Look, if you don’t get out of here, we’ll be stuck together forever.  Can we call it a truce?

Me:  Fine…

Ghost:  …Do you wanna at least learn my name?

Me: Don’t push it.  *I sigh, knowing I should at least try to be diplomatic*  Fine.  What’s your name?

Ghost:  Barry.  

Me (neutral):  Cool.  So, any ideas?

Barry:  Well, the traps down here and that witch can’t exactly kill me, right?  Lemme scout ahead and warn you about anything coming up.

Me:  Mm’kay…

*I don’t completely trust him, but he’s been around me long enough.  That and I did notice he never actually tried to possess me.  He seemed to threaten it before, but when I think about it, that was probably just his idea of a crappy joke.  Barry glides ahead, fading into the darkness.  I continue to follow the corridor.*

Voice: Help me!

*I look towards the voice, straining to figure out who it is.  For now, I stay silent, paranoid that Agatha might be disguised or trying to lure me.  So, I freeze and stay quiet.  After a moment, I whisper quietly.*

Me (whispering):  Barry, are you back?  Who or what is that?

Voice: Help me!

Voice: No! Help me!

*I don’t recognize the voice and cautiously inch away from it, getting more paranoid.*

Voice: What’s the matter?

Voice: Scared?

Voice: Stop it!

Voice: No! You stop it!

*I get a weird look and turn to move the opposite direction of the voices.  Arguing or not, I’m not touching this.*

Voice: Stop it!

Voice: You have to!

Voice: No. Run!

Voice: What’s the matter?

Voice: I can’t take this!

*There are now hundreds and hundreds of voices I can hear. Some are benevolent, others sadistic, and some just sound crazy. It doesn’t really matter though. They’re all starting to overlap into one, unending ball of sounds.*

Me:  Sorry, Barry.  *I raise my spiritual barrier and concentrate as hard as I can to try and block the tide of voices as I run away from wherever the voices seem to be coming from.  Though it feels like my brain is filling with static from the cacophony.*

*I can still hear the voices. They seem to not only be following me, but getting louder, too. Like they’re in my ear. At least that’s what it feels like.*

*I’m starting to get a headache and know it’ll get worse if this keeps up.  This is driving me crazy and I can barely hear myself think.  So, I stop and whirl around towards the voices.*

Me:  FINE.  What do you all want?!  I’m just trying to find my friends and get out of here.  I’ll be out of your business in a short while if you either help me or leave me alone!  Otherwise, do we really wanna deal with each other for all of eternity, huh?!  Well?  Can we talk this out like civilized entities or not?

*There’s no talking for a moment or two. Then the voices start talking again, this time they’re all saying different expressions that amount to, “Okay.” *

Me (calming slightly):  Okay.  Good.  Since the corridors keep shifting, I’m trying to get my bearings well enough to move in a specific direction.  Do any of you know which way two other women my age went?  There is also an older woman, a witch, named Agatha Harkness trying to kill us.  She kidnapped our fourth friend and we don’t know where she put her.  Lastly, we tried to call Wong and Stephen to help us, but none of us know if they’re down here.  We’re all trying to find each other, capture Agatha, and get our friend back.  If we succeed, we won’t have to be down here any longer and we’ll be out of your hair, provided the witch hasn’t hidden our friend in here.

*The apparitions all start talking again, simultaneously…answering all of her questions at once.*

*I cringe in pain.*

Me (rubbing my temples):  Maybe one at a time.  I can’t make anything out.  If you guys have a leader or chosen representative, can I please talk to them?

*The apparitions answer, “Yes,” all at once.*

Me (cringing slightly again at the noise):  Okay.  I’m listening.  *I’m being polite since they seem cooperative.*

Representative: Yes. What would you like to know?

Me:  Which way are my friends located so I can go the right direction?

Representative: Ah, yes. Your friends should be located just west of this wing.

Me:  Thank you.  Did you happen to see where Agatha Harkness took our kidnapped friend?

Representative: Your friend is with Agatha.

Me:  Crud…Okay.  Last question so I don’t bother you too much.  Are Stephen and Wong down here too?  I’ll let you be after this question.  *I’m being polite to avoid bothering them.*

Representative: Yes. They are on the top level of Kamar-Taj’s tunnels, battling the witch Agatha as we speak.

Me:  Okay.  Well, thank you.  I’ll leave you alone now.  *I nod and attempt to head west.  I’m still a bit suspicious of them, but will proceed cautiously.*

*After a minute or two of walking away, I hear a more familiar voice.*

Barry (tinged with sarcasm):  Kudos on actually negotiating with people instead of jumping straight to the offensive, I guess.  *Raising an eyebrow*  By the way, you know you’re not going west, right?  Jesus, how did you manage to survive this long anyway?  

*He’s grumbling, but attempting to be helpful in his own way.  Barry directs me west, drifting at his usual position just behind my shoulder.  He knows that hovering so close annoys me.  At this point, I let him, attempting to get along with him since he’s actually being helpful instead of trying to troll me or pick another fight.  I change direction to properly head west.*

Me:  So…The Nirvana t-shirt…You like them?

Barry (humoring me):  Yeah.  Kurt Cobain is a genius!

Me (uneasy):  Erm…Was…

Barry:  What?!  

*We converse as we travel.  I have to gently break the news to him and we discuss the late musician’s memory as well as major historical events since the 1990’s.  Seeing as we’ve been stuck together for weeks and he has seen what we’ve all recently been through, despite his many arguments with me, we finally inch closer to a mutual understanding.  Although we don’t exactly see eye to eye with each other, we’ve at least agreed to converse with one another and try to be more empathetic.  It’s a step in the right direction.  A subtle, but nice thing I notice is that he’s giving me personal space after our chat.*

*Tear finds herself alone in the dark, having been separated from the group.  She has landed hard on the ground and it’s pitch-black.  There are no traces of anyone else around her.*

Tear: Oookay, this is getting scary… *I use my phone’s torchlight to illuminate the tunnel. I feel so close to building a shrine to Tony, Stephen, and Peter for having updated our tech to work in their universe* Steward? PrettyWitch? Are you guys there? *I whisper loudly, not really confident to call outloud in case I end up attracting anything other than my friends. I try my best to look down at both ends of the hallway, but there’s not even a breeze to help me choose which way to head toward.*

___

*I hear different sets of footsteps approaching and freeze, anticipating a potential trap.  While silently watching, I see a dim light in the distance down the corridor.  It seems to be getting bigger and bigger.  I stay in the shadows just in case.*

Prettywitch: Steward!? Is that you? - Wait! Just so I know, tell me something about me only you would know.

Me (emerging quietly from my patch of shadows):  First off, I think we may be in a deadlock.  How do I know you’re not just trying to get info from me about my friends?  

*I’m staying neutral in every aspect in an attempt to conceal details in case this is a disguised enemy.  Meanwhile, my eyes never leave her, watching carefully.*

Prettywitch: *She considers this.* Fair point. In that case, let me tell you about how I got out of the trap I was in; I basically conjured up the staff from Cardcaptor Sakura and made a construct of the Light Card…Does that sound like something I would do? *She smiles awkwardly, mostly because she’s afraid Steward won’t believe her.*

*I think for a moment.*

Me:  Okay…Sounds like you.  

Barry:  That IS Prettywitch, o Paranoid One.  *He’s still a smartass, but a helpful one, at least.*

*I give him a look.*

Me:  If you’re sure…Okay.  *I relax slightly.*  I’m glad you’re alive and made it here, Prettywitch.  I ended up swarmed by spirits and thankfully, they were just guarding the place.  So, I was able to talk them down and ask for directions.

Prettywitch: *Breathes a sigh of relief.* Thank Vishanti! Have you run into Tear, by any chance?

Me:  Not yet, unfortunately.  We should look for her.

Prettywitch: Well what are we waiting for? Let’s go. *Turns to face the hall for a moment, then looks back at Steward.* You know the way by any chance?

Me:  Unfortunately, not.

Barry:  Maybe go back and ask again.

Me:  I’ve bothered that group of spirits enough, I think.

Barry:  You forgot the way back to them already, didn’t you?

*I glare at him silently, though he IS right.*

Prettywitch: Well, let’s just go along the paths and use markers. That way, we know which halls we’ve gone down.

Me:  Good idea.  Want to pick a passage to start at?

Prettywitch: Okay. Let’s go….*She points to the right.* that way! *She magics a black marker into her hand and draws the Sanctum window on the wall.  She puts the cap back on the marker and smiles at her handiwork.* There! That should work.

*There is a faint, disagreeable rumble through the complex’s tunnels, but nothing shifts.  It feels almost like the building is displeased with something.*

Me (looking around nervously):  Erm…Let’s go.

Prettywitch: Good idea.

*The trio make their way down the right corridor.*

*Sooner than expected, we spot Tear heading down one of the other hallways and call out to her, hoping that it’s the real her and not a fake.*

Me (stern, but hopeful):  Okay.  Show us that it’s really you, Tear…Qilong.  *I say the name at the end to indicate to her that it’s really me.  Qilong was the name of the deceased miner whose log we found at the bottom of the mine all of those months ago with Stephen.*

Tear: *I brighten up, immediately recognizing the reason why Steward would even think of that name. Reassured, I don’t hesitate to show my own proof.* Okay, so… When people think “tanks” they will most often think about the classic German Panzers or the cute little Somua S35, which was actually one of the best by 1940. But most won’t remember that it was actually the English who begun experimenting with the idea of tanks back in the Great War as a way to combat trench warfare. In fact, they were first designed in 1915 but were first deployed until 1916 during the Battle of the Somme when…

Prettywitch: *She looks at Steward.* Yeah, it’s her.

Tear: *I’m panting slightly by the end of my eager rant* I don’t think Agatha would have much need to know all of that as a witch, right?

Me (curling my lip, mildly amused):  No.

*We all chuckle slightly and can’t help but relax.*

Me:  Thank goodness…Okay, let’s get out of here.  Stephen and Wong are probably looking for us by now.

Tear: So you guys haven’t heard from them either? I was hoping Kamar-Taj had been attempting to bring us closer to them…

*I shake my head.*

Prettywitch: Well, we’re just gonna have to keep going. We’ll find our way back…eventually.

Me:  Think we should mark this location as an indicator of our path?

Prettywitch: You know it! *She gets out the marker again and draws the Sanctum window, again.* Alright, let’s go!

*There’s the irritable rumble again, but no shift.*

Me (unnerved):  Erm…Maybe Kamar-Taj doesn’t like it…

Prettywitch: *She shrugs.* Eh! We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

Tear: Or maybe Agatha could still be trying to control it? Can buildings feel pain?

Me:  Honestly, I have no idea.  Which way should we go, then?  *I’m getting worried again.*

Prettywitch: Well, we went right before…let’s go left, this time.

*We continue on our way, speeding up a bit.  After all, we do need to alert the more experienced sorcerers and get help to rescue Trix.*

*All of a sudden, a blur of purple seems to whiz forward from the darkness of the hallway in front of us and it materializes to reveal, Agatha who is first shocked but then delighted to have run into us.*

Agatha: Well, well, well! What a sight for sore and slightly battered eyes. Some baby sorcerers who wouldn’t disobey mom and sneak out from being grounded!

Me (snarling):  Says the traitor to her own coven!  *At this point, seeing her has re-ignited my anger.*

Prettywitch: *Groans* Oh great! The crazy lady’s back. Hallelujah!

Agatha (raising an eyebrow): Wow, did this place fuck you up too or are you just happy to see me? *her hands ignite with smokey purple magic* If you want to find out firsthand what happened to them, keep talking.

*I look about ready to explode, but then we hear more running footsteps approaching.  Stephen and Wong burst into the corridor and look shocked to see us there.  Stephen notices that Agatha is about to curse me and is about ready to cast a protective shield in front of us.*

Stephen (glancing at us and then Agatha):  How did you get-?  Never mind!  Girls, get back!  

Agatha: Didn’t you hear? Your ducklings left the nest directly into my waiting arms. It’s not like we’re not familiar at this point. *She sneers at the girls* 

*I glare icily right back at the witch.  The tension is palpable.*

*Agatha’s necklace starts to glow faintly, immediately catching her attention and her face pales. It is flickering between dark purple, light purple, and hints of orange*

Agatha (cooing to it): Now now, that’s a bit too much excitement for you today. I’m going to make sure we get home. *She pats it and the flickers fade away*

*Stephen notices and turns pale, knowingly.*

Me (quietly):  Trix…

*Agatha looks smugly at Stephen*

Agatha: Now then: you have your children to attend to and now I have mine. Though, that could easily change if you decide to follow me *she lifts the crystal of the necklace slightly* so if you don’t mind, toodle-loo! *she disappears into a cloud of purple smoke and peals of laughter before finally vanishing*

Tear: No, Trix!

Me (practically spitting in fury):  That bitch…

Prettywitch: Let’s go after her! We can probably trace her magic trail or something.

Wong (protectively):  No.  You three have been in enough danger as it is.  How in the multiverse did any of you make it this far out of the labyrinth?

Prettywitch: Magic Sharpie…*She smiles awkwardly at Wong.* Anyway, the point is, we’ve got bigger fish to fry than me graffiting the walls.

*Kamar-Taj makes a low, disgruntled noise.  Wong raises an eyebrow, biting back a sharp reprimand.  However, they have more pressing matters at the moment.*

Stephen:  We can’t follow her.  Our own magical signatures are too obvious.  She would shatter Trix’s crystal before we got anywhere remotely close to them.  If Agatha shatters it, Trix dies.   

Prettywitch: Okay. Then what do you propose we do?

Me:  How would we evade detection?

Stephen:  I’m sorry, “we”? Haven’t the three of you gotten in enough trouble?  *He’s trying to keep us safe, his eyes flashing a warning at our group.*

Prettywitch: *Now she’s angry.* Don’t get snippy with us! We want to help our friend.

Tear: *I throw my arms out in disbelief* You say that as if we sought out Agatha and delivered an RSVP for Kamar-Taj. We sat there, stuck in that room, for one week! *I stomp my foot and point back at the dark hallways. My voice starts raising, even if I never thought I’d dare to stand against Stephen and Wong of all people* We did everything you asked, and that woman still found us. How are we at fault for that? How is Trix at fault for that? *My voice breaks at the thought of Trix and my eyes quickly well up, but I swallow thickly and refuse to think about what she could be going through*

*I glare at Stephen in a deadly silence.*

*Stephen huffs frustratedly.*  

Stephen:  *Angrily*  I know!  *He immediately regrets his outburst and calms down again, being sincere in his words.*  I’m sorry.  However, we’re not about to let more of you endanger yourselves further.

Me (adamantly staring the two masters down):  Don’t think we’re just going to keep sitting here.  *My tone is icy, a cold rage blatantly obvious.*

*Stephen and Wong stare us all down for a moment and when none of us backs off, Wong sighs.*

Wong:  Fine…but if you are going to do this, then you will do so correctly to avoid further harm.  *He’s stern.*

Stephen:  We’ll have to report this to the other Avengers first.  Come on.  *He ushers us over so he can portal everyone to the Campus.*

***To be continued***

#doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange #doctor strange meta fic #multi author #dr stephen strange #stephen strange #agatha harkness #doctor stephen strange #marvel #marvel fanfiction #wong

[d3mon-ology]

Folly of Forsaken — an eventide drabble

𝙵𝙾𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝙾𝙵 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚂𝙰𝙺𝙴𝙽 𖤐 ࿐ྀུ

a short-story centering around a mysterious Crow, who fights a demonic creature whilst thinking of the steps on the path that brought her here.

They beheld a miracle once.

Her sword ground into the creature's canine, and she dropped her skinnier blade to put both hands to the hilt. “Jackass,” she yelled before the edge sprung free.

read en code by clicking the source !

They beheld a miracle once.

Her head held stories, too many for a filing cabinet. If they were cataloged, ends would stick out and pages would be bent backwards. She held stories, too unbelievable to repeat. Not even the foreigners she creeped with beneath, in this realm called the Batting, could believe. She held stories, some of which were easier to keep, but she wished they would burn. Instead, she felt herself cradling them, rocking Rosemary’s Baby.

In this instance, she gave in to another story. A mantra. She held this one within the temple – her ribcage, and guarded it beneath Titane steel. They beheld a miracle once.

Her sword ground into a canine, and she dropped her skinnier blade to put both hands to the hilt. “Jackass,” she yelled before the edge sprung free.

With its tooth equally free, the thing groaned. An ache formed in its mouth, unfamiliar and unrelenting. It decided to follow a similar pursuit. Slimy hands walloped for her neck. Tree-trunk feet uprooted themselves and attempted to till her into the earth. Her broadsword clattered, running away as a small child afraid of the bed’s innards and underbelly.

She backed off too; an adult who realized her baby had been describing a rabid mouse who had made its home in the shadows under the bed, not just the shadows themselves. A gash leaked from her shoulder, and she realized her fate.

Unknowing of the cost.

It came in his voice, as it had been when they’d first read the poem aloud, ten years ago. Fate. His face became barren when she told him. Blanched, but it wasn’t until he shed a tear, that they were allowed to cry.

Crow took up a sword instead. It was not either of the swords she wielded now, and the realization stuck to her. She saw the tears of her friends as they spilled, as unsure even now of what she should’ve said then. They always asked her for answers when Fritz failed to provide, and a decade had not relented the potency of their deflated eyes as she turned from them.

Unknowing of the cost.

She held stories in her heart. Far too many to carry. This was one of them: calamity shown via dream. A red-eyed world with a tartar smile that stunk in her mouth. It gazed upon her, and she knew what failure was. Finding the End, where he was dead, where they were all dead, and she was left to bear witness. A disciple of Failure.

She scooped up the rapier, groaning. Her body formed a dance with its strokes, and she found the creature’s eye. Studying its blindness for a moment, her face was Stonehenge. Meaningless, meaningful, it was unsure what to make of its foe. Another mutt, Crow thought. It was the Taj Mahal, the only eighth wonder she remembered. Or was it seventh?

The It’s eye blinked rapidly, pooling with blood in a manner that showed how hollow the space between the lens and the iris was. It was an improper model of humanity, as though it had been created by someone who only saw humans in pictures or hazy souvenirs, from snowglobes to music boxes. Its bloated body formed gelatin, like excess cellulite on a thigh. Having eaten one, she knew it tasted like how she imagined human flesh to be: soft, flavorless, akin to the fatty excess she’d suck off a steak cutlet at T.Roma’s, sister Nikki eyeing her like a rabid dog. She saw her then, as she suckled the flesh. She sees her now, in the blood-clotted eye of the Feeder. Its hands, massive and weapons in their own right, with callouses that make them impervious and hairs so thick they could burrow into her and suckle Crow like steak.

This one, out of all the Feeders, looked like how Crow had once imagined an anatomically-correct Frankenstein, minus the cyclops vision. They always appeared in some new form, which she could never quite place but recognized as wrong, as fearful. FUBAR-ed, as Felix would say. His smile played in her taped memories, acting for her as the motion was too foreign to mimic.

Her own body became a mushroom left exposed in the fridge: shriveled, old, rotten. Recognisance dimmered. The brain became just a brain, and the arms became just arms. The wisdom of the Batting injected itself as heroin, enlightening her. Crow denied existence. She refused morality. Intelligence repulsed her. Stumbling back, afeared, she fell to the ground and allowed It to overtake her view of the sky and the planetary face curled into the distant mountain: Redwork.

They beheld a miracle once, she began again, hand gasping for the hilt.

The sword reared upright, absorbing the lighted god’s wisdom. It arrowed towards the beast’s head, set to cut free the threaded spine.

A sharp angel arched through the air.

She started to finish, And they never forgot–

A clubbed demon matched.

And then– the dark.

#writers on tumblr #fiction #poetry #my writing #creative writing #writblr #writers #literature #writerscommunity #short story #eventide trapping #roleplay

[phantom-of-the-north]

Flashback builds gingerbread houses!

Since 2011, Flashback arranges a competition in December for building the best gingerbread house. Users gather all their creativity and assemble their masterpieces, they post images of their contributions and other users then vote for their favorite! It’s a pleasant and festive tradition on Flashback and it's endorsed by admin himself

Translation of the last paragraph:

"Many thanks to all who participate. Funniest gingerbread house competition ever. I'm indeed biased, but I can promise that I would've held the same opinion if I weren't biased. Last year's contributions were spread on forums overseas and in social media, where people amusedly wondered what we were up to in Sweden. There's a reason for this. Christmas baking is supposed to be fun. Thank you, all you Flashbackers who make Christmas a lot more fun.

admin"

Unfortunately, the interest for the competition has been pretty low throughout the years, in 2019 it was cancelled because there were too few participants. But it was back again in 2020! Here are the competition rules:

The gingerbread house shall have the participator's name and year visible.

The gingerbread house shall have a name.

The gingerbread house shall have an explanation of the contribution.

The gingerbread house is expected to be designed as a building.

The gingerbread house shall be designed by the person who builds it/competes with it.

The gingerbread house shall only be built of edible parts (not including lighting and cotton).

The gingerbread house shall contain "gingerbread".

The gingerbread house shall be documented with stills.

Here are some of the previous years' winners:

2021: “The storming of The Capitol” by user Stegosaurusen

2011: “Taj Mahal” also by user Stegosaurusen

“The three wise men turned out good… but the stall itself imploded.” By user Moramannen

“Snow dreams” by user duckling

Some other contributions throughout the years:

2022: “Saddam Hussein’s secret bunker!” by user Hivmannen

2021: “An ode to Flashback” by user Luismi

“Christmas cosiness outside the crack house.”

“During Christmas, peace reigns among political opponents. Completely impossible to photograph the political corner from a fair angle. The whole phone is full of icing after several failed attempts.”

“Blurry Nazis.”

“Equally blurry anarchists and militant feminists.”

2014: “Kiruna Church” by user NordSvitjod

The winner of 2023’s competition:

“The Burrow” by user lucky-luci

Two of the competitors from 2023:

“The snow lies white..” by user Jultrollet

”Christmas coziness in the Dekorima corner” by user Messi2022

“Olof Palme’s last breath in a Christmas guise.”

#flashback #flashback forum #forum websites #discussion forums #internet forums #internet culture #internet history #swedish internet culture #sweden #sverige #sa du sten #all makt åt tengil vår befriare #svea rike

[turisiancom]

TURISIAN.com - Meski baru tahun depan akan dilaksanakan, para peselancar dunia mulai membidik event Rip Curl Cup Wanita di Padang Padang, Bali. Mereka kembali bakal bertarung di event bergengengsi tersebut. Apalagi setelah satu bulan penuh  juga sudah 'nyemplung' di gelaran selancar serta Warm-Up Session . Meskipun telah menantikan gelombang besar selama sebulan penuh (1 Agustus - 31 Agustus), namun Padang Padang tampaknya belum menunjukan sisi terbaiknya. Yakni,  ombak yang mencapai kaliber kelas dunia  untuk menyelenggarakan Kompetisi Tuberiding ke-20 tahun. Hanya ada satu momen yang memperlihatkan taringnya selama jendela gelombang pasang 2023. Sayangnya, ombak ini belum mencapai tingkat yang diperlukan. Dan konsistensinya pun belum memadai untuk menggelar kompetisi tuberiding yang menjadi sorotan tahun ini. BACA JUGA: Berselancar di Flores, Ini Beberapa Destinasi Keren yang Masih Tersembunyi Sementara itu Event Director, James Hendy, dengan tegas menyatakan pihaknya akan terus berkomitmen untuk menyelenggarakan acara dengan standar tertinggi. Yaitu memastikan bahwa 24 tube rider terbaik dunia, terdiri dari 16 pria dan 8 wanita, dapat bersaing dalam kondisi ombak terbaik di Padang Padang. Internasional all-star "Jika tidak memenuhi standar tersebut, maka kami tidak akan mengorbankan integritas acara," katanya dalam keterangan persnya, Rabu 6 September 2023. Menggelar kontes di tempat alternatif seperti Bingin atau Uluwatu juga bukanlah opsi yang dapat dipertimbangkan. Rip Curl Cup akan tetap digelar hanya di spot utama, Padang Padang. BACA JUGA: Bono, Ombak Selancar dengan Riak Warna Cokelat, Ini 4 Keunikannya Dengan demikian, juara bertahan Rip Curl Cup, Clay Marzo (HAW), harus menunggu hingga tahun depan untuk mencoba mempertahankan gelarnya. Para peselancar internasional all-star tahun ini, termasuk nama-nama berat akan terus menantikan momen mereka untuk bersaing memperebutkan piala pada tahun 2024. Mereka diantaranya,  Taj Burrow (Australia), Kolohe Andino (Amerika Serikat), Mason Ho (Hawaii), dan Koa Smith (Hawaii), Selama minggu pembukaan jendela acara, Samudera Hindia memberikan hadiah dengan gelombang-gelombang misterius yang menyapa Padang Padang dalam Rip Curl Cup Warm-Up Session. BACA JUGA: Pantai Sawarna, Surga Tersembunyi Banten yang Memikat Hati Selama tiga jam penuh, aksi selancar yang mengagumkan ditampilkan oleh 18 dari 24 peserta yang akan bertanding dalam Ultimate Tuberiding Contest tahun ini di Padang Padang. Sejarah pun tercipta dalam pertunjukan ini, sebab beberapa peselancar wanita turut memanfaatkan kesempatan dalam Warm-Up Session di Padang Padang dengan penampilan yang memukau. Atmosfir Kompetisi Sebut saja Erin Brooks (Kanada), seorang peselancar berusia 16 tahun yang merupakan finalis tahun 2023 dan peserta dalam Rip Curl Cup Wanita tahun ini. Ia berbagi pandangannya tentang atmosfer kompetisi yang menuntut kondisi gelombang yang sempurna. "Meskipun kami belum bisa memulai kompetisi wanita tahun ini, kami masih bisa mengejar gelombang dan berlomba di Padang Padang," ungkapnya. BACA JUGA: Selopamioro Park Ditutup Sementara, Ini Penyebabnya "Kami belum mendapatkannya tahun ini, tapi kita berharap dapat merasakannya tahun depan. Dan tentu saja, semoga lebih besar dan lebih baik," sambung  Brooks dengan semangat. Lebih lanjut, Brooks menyoroti penampilan luar biasa peselancar wanita dalam sesi tersebut, yang berhasil menaklukkan beberapa ombak terbaik. "Tahun depan, saya yakin akan ada banyak peselancar wanita yang ingin berkompetisi dalam kontes ini," tambahnya. BACA JUGA: Destinasi Wisata Baru Bersemi di Kabupaten Lumajang, Ada Museumnya Lho Mungkin saja akan muncul legenda seperti Bethany Hamilton, yang sebelumnya sudah ikut serta dalam kompetisi putra. "Bagaimanapun, akan menjadi luar biasa jika dia bergabung dengan kami dalam kompetisi putri tahun depan," ujarnya dengan harapan besar. Dalam Rip Curl Cup Warm-Up Session, kerumunan besar berkumpul di pantai dan tebing Padang Padang.

Sedangkan,  para penggemar dari seluruh dunia menyaksikan aksi seru ini melalui livestream Rip Curl x Island Brewing di YouTube. Mereka disuguhkan dengan penampilan kelas master barrel dan beberapa aksi wipeout brutal dari peselancar-peselancar dunia yang terkenal akan kemahiran mereka dalam selancar. ***

[baliportalnews]

Pekan Kompetisi Rip Curl Cup 2023, Mega Semadhi: Saya Menantikan Pertandingan ini

BALIPORTALNEWS.COM, BADUNG - Peselancar kebangaan Bali, Mega Semadhi mengaku sudah sangat menantikan pertandingan ini, untuk bersaing dengan nama-nama besar lain dan optimis bisa mempertahankan dua kali gelar juara Rip Curl Cup. “Padang-Padang adalah salah satu pantai dengan ombak menakjubkan di Indonesia dan Rip Curl Cup adalah kompetisi terbaik dari yang terbaik di luar sana. Saya sudah menanti pertandingan ulang tahun ini,” kata Semadhi, saat pembukaan Rip Curl Cup 2023. Ia juga mengatakan, tahun ini merupakan momen baik bagi para peselancar putri Indonesia, dimana kelas selancar putri ini sedang naik daun, berharap para peserta bisa memberikan performa terbaik di Padang-Padang pada kondisi terberat tahun ini. "Ini merupakan kesempatan emas bisa bersaing di Rip Curl Cup, saya berharap putri-putri Indonesia harus bisa tampil dengan performa terbaik. Dan saya pikir para putri ini siap menghadapi tantangan itu," tegasnya. Untuk diketahui, Rip Curl secara resmi telah mengumumkan sebanyak 16 peserta putra dan 8 peserta putri untuk berkompetisi dalam momen Peringatan 20 Tahun Rip Curl Cup di Padang-Padang kali ini, dimana ratusan penggemar selancar dari seluruh dunia berkumpul, bergabung dalam untuk membetkati acara dengan harapan kualitas ombak dalam penyelenggaraan kali ini dalam kondisi baik, kompetisi berjalan aman, dan secara resmi memulai periode masa tunggu acara dari 1-31 Agustus 2023. Berikut daftar lengkap 24 surfer yang diundang dalam kompetisi Rip Curl Cup 2023 kali ini, diantara undangan internasional tahun ini, juga ada juara bertahan, Clay Marzo (HAW), legenda WCT Taj Burrow (AUS), Kolohe Andino (AS) Mason Ho (HAW), dan surfer ajaib berusia 15 tahun Dylan Wilcoxen (AS). Indonesia sendiri akan diwakili oleh juara Rip Curl Cup dua kali Mega Semadhi, juara dua kali Bol Adi Putra, dan juara 2014 Garut Widiarta. Selanjutnya, dintara peselancar elit putri yang diundang ke Rip Curl Cup Putri pertama di Padang-Padang tahun ini adalah, Erin Brooks (CAN), tahun lalu menempati posisi ketiga di divisi pria, serta Sierra Kerr (AUS) dan Sky Brown (ENG). James Hendy selaku Presiden Direktur Rip Curl Indonesia menambahkan, semua mata akan tertuju pada gelombang besar Samudra Hindia yang diperkirakan akan mencapai Bali pekan ini. "Kami memantau gelombang besar dengan cermat, dengan kemungkinan kontes bisa berjalan pada Jumat 4 Agustus mungkin akan berlangsung saat itu, lebih lanjut penggemar selancar juga bisa memantau ripcurl.com untuk pembaruan status kompetisi terbaru dari kami," jelasnya. Surfer internasional masing-masing, Kolohe Andino (USA), Miguel Blanco (PRT), Taj Burrow (AUS), Nathan Hedge (AUS), Mason Ho (HAW), juara bertahan Clay Marzo (HAW), Koa Smith (HAW), dan Dylan Wilcoxen (USA). Surfer Indonesia masing-masing, Made ‘Bol’ Adi Putra, Mega Artana, Mustofa Jeksen, Raditya Rondi, Mega Semadhi, Tommy Sobry, Agus ‘Dag Dag’ Sumertayasa, dan Garut Widiarta. Surfer putri masing-masing, Erin Brooks (CAN), Lidia Kato (IND), Ziggy Mackenzie (AUS), Jasmine Studer (IND), Sierra Kerr (AUS), Kailani Johnson (IND), dan Sky Brown (ENG). (aar/bpn) Read the full article

#BaliPortalNews #Padang-Padang #RipCurl #Surfer #surfing

[thesurfslab]

#ocean #waves #surf #surfboards #surfer #taj burrow

[wslofficial]

Taj Burrow in his element

Photo | Respondek

#taj burrow #taj #surf #surfing #surfer #john respondek #respondek #ocean #wave #beautiful #nature

[rawringryu-arts]

I redesigned Stephen's outfit for the Strange(r) Ensembles Art Challenge, mine is eldritch horror inspired! I also wrote a drabble to accompany it, which you can find under the cut. Many thanks to @doitwritenow for her help with my first time writing!

Dormammu was the beginning of the end.

In a dimension beyond comprehension, unbound by human concepts of mortality, Stephen Strange began to shed their skin.

In the moments between their demise and time respooling, they felt an acute jolt of pain that shot through their entire being from the left hand. It began with a grotesque crack of the skin as flesh parted itself, their bones slithering like snakes under their skin as talons began to elongate.

The agony was unbearable, but they did not have time to contemplate the viscous black blood that seeped out from the crevices of the cracks before the words slipped out of their mouth, an almost mantra that kept them company throughout the decades that they’ve endured in this self-made prison of time.

“Dormammu, I’ve come to barg—”

A different kind of agony lit up their entire being as iridescent beams of light eviscerated their body. Time began anew.

It is yet again in the stolen moments in between their torment that they notice their mangled left hand burning with a sweltering heat that rivaled the intensity of the sun. Their talons took on a shade akin to the vast void that surrounded them in the Dark Dimension. The heat spread throughout their arm and with it the darkness that tainted their talons. The words force themselves out of their mouth.

“Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain.”

The entity lets them finish the sentence this time before tearing them in two. Time began anew.

Rinse and repeat. The changes to their body develop further in the gaps of time in between, giving them very little opportunity to contemplate it. Neon tentacle imprints appearing upon their skin, always slinking about in a haphazard manner. The Cloak of Levitation’s form warped as well, it shuddered when feathers sprouted between its folds, eventually engulfing it entirely in a burst of flames. A phoenix reborn.

Deep down Stephen knew that they were the reason for the Cloak’s affliction. It was their mystical proximity, the intimate bond between a sorcerer and relic that soared and perished together endlessly. Stephen wept for it in sorrow, they felt the Cloak’s consciousness brush against their mind, a silent comfort and unconditional forgiveness swept through them.

Eventually, the Eye of Agamotto also began to distort. A century or so had passed by then, Dormammu still livid about being entrapped by time, still taking out their anger on Stephen, but their patience was wearing thin and Stephen knew that the end was in sight. Dormammu would soon be amenable to listening to their requests. But for now, they must persevere.

The squirming power from beyond, leaking through the cracks in so many respooled deaths, reached out to the Eye of Agamotto. A different kind of bond had formed between Stephen and this relic— one of spellwork and barter. The Eye cracked. When it shattered, the sensation was more than physical. Shards of bronze and links of shattered chain burned beneath Dormammu's assault, but Stephen felt the immaterial splinters lodge in their sternum. It burned. Stephen ducked their head, eyes squeezing shut. Light still burned in the corner of their eyes. When they respooled again, their skin was washed by green— the light of dozens of Eyes, too other to focus on, forming a circle around their head.

Despite the halo’s position, Stephen could still feel the phantom weight of the Eye in their chest, as if it had burrowed itself into it and nestled in the deepest crevices of their soul. They felt a gentle hum that permeated through their entire being, something as old as time had found a home inside of them.

It took exactly twenty-two more time loops for Dormammu to concede, a coincidental amount that aligned with the number of Eyes that framed their face. Stephen tried not to dwell about it as they uttered the familiar words.

“I’ve come to bargain.”

“What do you want?”

Their demands were swiftly met, and for the first time in centuries, the neon green circlet around their wrist broke apart as time ceased to respool. Everything else that followed was a blur, the cloak levitated their body through the portal and back to earth. Words came out of their mouth as they confronted a surprised Kaecilius, but Stephen could not find it in themself to focus on the situation at hand. They felt unmoored.

The appearance of their otherworldly transformation had left their companions in a momentary daze, it saddened Stephen that their fear was so palpable. Despite the disconcerting feeling of finally being set free of the loop, there was no sense of dysphoria about the transformation they had undergone. However, the solace that they found in this form was clearly not shared with their companions.

Mordo left with a warning and a look of disgust.

------

Time passed on earth without beginning anew. Weeks had gone by, memories of Dormammu and the world beyond death suppressed deep inside of Stephen; nevertheless, the changes to their body and soul remained.

What frightened them the most was how right the metamorphosis had begun to feel. Stephen never found the need to be bound by binaries, but the sheer comfortableness of just existing in this transformed body was an altogether new experience.

It became natural, as if their ink dipped limb had always been that way. The bright coloured tentacles that wrapped around their arm were playful and temperamental; they shifted about and pushed at the boundaries of Stephen’s limb, as if they were trying to escape and explore the rest of Stephen’s body. The Cloak of Levitation seemed to enjoy its new form as well, flapping its wings as it zoomed around the sanctum with an added flair of dramatics.

The halo of Eyes had retreated deep inside of them, yet thoughts of the time loop never failed to manifest the Eyes, the green wash of light provided a sense of comfort as the relic’s consciousness brushed against theirs.

Nevertheless, Stephen’s thirst for knowledge and knowing was a fundamental part of them. Despite being at ease with their metamorphosis and in no hurry for a cure, they needed answers. Thus, Stephen began pouring through the ancient tombs in Kamar-Taj’s library, longing for some sort of explanation.

Their research proved futile as there seemed to be no records of similar occurrences. The fruitless endeavour fed into Stephen’s frustrations and anxieties, almost tangible in the air. Their trusty Cloak wrapped around them in an attempt to console. It was in one such instance that the halo of Eyes made an appearance without prompt, Stephen’s eyes glazed over as a vision overtook them.

They gazed down and saw a tangle of limbs and fluorescent tentacles protruding from the shadow of the Cloak. They could barely comprehend the shape of their body, the blackness that plagued their left arm had spread all over, blending into the darkness of the surrounding. Yet, when they shifted one of their many limbs, the air seemed to shudder in protest. Stephen blinked, they felt more than a dozen eyes flutter, a gasp of shock escaped their lips. However the vision was cut short before they could explore further.

Stephen was brought back to reality, the halo of Eyes dispersed. They stared at their hands, one void-like in colour while the other still a human tone, both still heavily scarred from their past hubris. Stephen’s mind raced, their mentor had once used the Eye of Agamotto to peer through time, it only made sense that the vision was a glimpse into the future, one of many. But that would mean—

Oh.

Oh Stephen, what are you?

#doctor strange #stephen strange #dr strange #strangerensembles #doctor strange fanart #nonbinary stephen strange #nb stephen strange #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanart #marvel comics #artists on tumblr #my fic #ficlet #drabble #ironstrange #non binary character

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Shadow Dancing

a Doctor Strange x Female Reader fic based on this imagine

characters: Stephen Strange, Female Reader, Cloak of Levitation

relationship: Mentor and Student (eventually evolves to more)

rating: general audience (will contain NSFW material, eventually), tw: blood and battle injuries, angst

word count: 1.5k

Chapter One

Frustration. Uselessness. Shame. Each feeling overwhelmed you in turn, as you tried to put the day behind you, while seeking the solace that only sleep might offer--if you got lucky enough not to dream your spectacular failure again and again through the night. Such nightmares would leave you nowhere to hide, as deep as you might burrow your head into your pillow. Perhaps it would be best to depart Bleecker Street and return to Kamar-Taj right now, despite the instructions your Sanctum Master had issued.

The inescapable memories were fresh enough to make you relive the last few minutes of the ferocious melee: the sounds of battle raging all around you, the air thick with acrid smoke, and the sulphurous stench--which had already overwhelmed several of your fellow Adepts—burning your eyes, as you strained to keep the reptilian marauders at bay long enough to allow the Masters to collapse the wormhole connected to Earth’s core. Determined, but—frankly—very frightened in the face of this ultimate test of your skills, you had spread your Shields of Seraphim wider than ever before, holding the line while seeking to bridge the gaps left by the fallen. You bore the growing strain with every ounce of strength in your body, willing yourself to stand firm—until an unpleasant chittering sound invaded your mind, disrupting your concentration, making you momentarily falter from your defensive stance. A scabrous arm snaked around you, and the creature’s hot breath on your neck was the only warning of its intent; to save yourself from its deadly bite, you were forced to drop your shields, freeing your hands to pry loose the enemy’s grip.

Several of the same hellish monstrosities swarmed through the opening you left in the battle line, as you struggled against the creature attacking you. At such close quarters, it was impossible for you to employ your mystical defenses, leaving you to fall back on the martial arts training that had been drilled into you in your early days at Kamar-Taj. You finally managed to cast off the wily beast, sending it plummeting over the side of the precipice, but not before its wicked claws left both of your shoulders lacerated--soaking your tunic in blood. You felt no pain—probably due to the adrenaline flooding your veins--but the sight of your own blood saturating your clothing, surprised and shocked you enough to make the reality around you darken, reducing your sight to a pinhole, before you fainted dead away.

The battle had peaked, and then turned in favor of Earth’s forces--despite your categorical failure—while you had lain unknowing, upon the ground. You awoke gradually, feeling like someone had lodged a spike in your brain, the throbbing of your lacerations now more insistent than your own heartbeat. You had never known such cruel thirst, and you whimpered hopelessly, too weak to even call for help. At some point, you relapsed into semi-consciousness.

You would never be able to say for sure how much time passed as you lay there unmarked, unattended. Eventually you saw a figure approach, as you watched dispassionately, not daring to hope you’d finally been found. His striking face was lit with the firelight that flared in dozens of places amid the dying battle’s heat, and you recognized him with a sort of dread—thinking he would know of how you had let him and your fellow sorcerers down as soon as he looked upon you, as your failure had to be written indelibly upon your face. There was little breeze, but his trademark Cloak billowed behind him anyway, adding to his mystique, making him appear even more dashing and heroic than usual. You briefly considered rolling your body over the cliff edge, desperate to hide your shame. Instead, you closed your eyes and turned your head to the side.

You felt him looming over you, speaking you name with urgent concern; the velvet of his smooth baritone speaking your name, almost like a dream come true. He crouched beside you, shaking you gently to rouse you from your seeming stupor. “Adept Y/N, are you awake?” His skilled fingers sought the pulse in your neck, and your heart raced with the thrill of the contact of his skin with yours—so that you gave yourself away with a little moan at the guilty pleasure of it, even in the midst of such disastrous conditions.

Compelled as much by his very presence, as by his expert, doctor’s touch, you rolled your head and opened your eyes, unable to speak in the face of his genuine alarm on your behalf, accented with his battle-tried beauty. You sobbed with remorse, seeing the bloody gash on his cheek and his split lips, a bruise already darkening the shelf of his jaw; you took in the multiple rents in his tunic, running across his shoulders and the length of his torso, and tears welled from your eyes. His injuries were surely your fault, having failed at so a crucial moment, unable to hold the line beside your fellow Adepts, the force of the onslaught of those dark minions proving too much for your meager magic to handle.

Yet there was only concern in Strange’s remarkable eyes, not the scorn or recrimination you so richly deserved. Ordinarily, having his handsome face this close to yours was only something from your most secret fantasies--but no fantasy had you envisioning it amidst a mystical battle. Despite everything around you, your heart still fluttered like a schoolgirl’s in the presence of her first crush, testament to your ridiculousness. You wished you could melt into the quaking ground beneath you, rather than bear his rightful admonishment for your failure. “Doctor Strange,” you had blubbered, “I’m so sorry, Sir…I…I…” There existed no words to convey the depth of your ignominy and regret, yet you heard yourself beg him, “Forgive me, please…I swear I tried my best…I’m just…oh god, I’ve never been good enough…” You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face away, thinking to conceal your tears of shame.

Strange grunted softly, and you nearly melted for real when he turned your face back to him, his long, elegant fingers warming your skin, reminding you of his vitality and all the quiet longings you harbored in your soul. “Nonsense, Y/N. You did well, very well.” You blinked your eyes open, and your tears ran freely--despite your will to hide them--tracing tracks upon your ash darkened cheeks. He cocked a brow, studying the pain in your eyes, and offered reassurance—and an absolution you could not truly deserve, “There’s nothing to apologize for, honey. You were more than enough. We’ve beaten them back, the wormhole is destroyed, and Earth is safe.” Sensing your doubt in yourself, Strange offered further comfort, “We succeeded as a team—and your part in our victory was a vital one.”

You laid one arm across your eyes, feeling undeserving of his kindness, wishing you could turn back time and do far better for his sake alone. Strange paused several breaths, then asked if you could sit up. When you tried, a harsh wave of dizziness caught you unprepared, and you fell back onto the ground. “Alright then,” he averred calmly, “There’s still some skirmishing around us, so we need to get you someplace safe. You’ve stopped bleeding, honey—but I’ll take a closer look at your wounds later.” He slid an arm beneath you, helping you to sit up, and you heard and felt a whoosh of warm air swirl beside you—and Cloak settled around your shoulders, even as Strange withdrew the support of his arm. “Cloak’s going to fly you far enough from here to be safe,” he advised you, “Just relax and enjoy the ride, okay?”

You nodded obediently, sinking into the warm embrace of the Cloak of Levitation, wondering how you’d gotten lucky enough for such an honor, whispering your thanks too softly for Strange to hear, as he turned his attention back to more important matters. Cloak zipped you along, and your concerns and fear dissolved for a time, as you felt the life force animating the garment, and you recognized it bore Strange’s scent—a masculine combination of his body wash and aftershave, of the coffee laced with chicory you’d seen him drink a dozen times, with hints of spearmint from the chewing gum he often favored, and the most delicious, subtle residue of his unique and brilliant magics that had somehow woven itself deep into Cloak’s fibers. You sighed as Cloak deposited you carefully on a bed of something similar to grass, knowing it would return to the Master it had chosen to serve, leaving you with the fleeting feeling of Cloak’s affection for the same man that had claimed your own heart, without even trying.

The import of the day’s events finally overwhelmed you enough to grant you the oblivion of dreamless sleep, stealing your consciousness at last—but as you went, you numbered Doctor Strange’s words to you, committing them to memory eternal…realizing with astonishment that he had actually called you honey. Not once, but twice—like an odd, unlikely dream, and surely springing from a place of pity and kindness, but like a very sweet and satisfying dream nonetheless.

(to be continued)

Masterlist of My Doctor Strange Fics

#my writing #Shadow Dancing #Doctor Strange x Female Reader #Stephen Strange x Female Reader #tw: blood #angst #doctor strange fan fiction #doctor strange fanfiction #Doctor Strange x Y/N #Stephen Strange x Y/N #Strangebatch #My Eternal Muse #(I've seen several very popular authors reblog chapters they had previously posted - so I figured I'd give it a go to)

[i-did-not-mean-to]

A prompt for you:

Loving, brotherly moment between Anders and Axl.

Maybe Axl is the one giving Anders a pep talk?

My dearest...

Here goes my first attempt at writing for TAJ...

Who we are

Words: 1.3 k

Warnings : crude language

“Anders?” Axl squared his shoulders almost instantly; Anders sitting in his room was not a good sign.

“Hey,” Anders replied sheepishly, “I didn’t know you’d be home so soon. That goon of a flatmate of yours let me in!”

Anders didn’t like to admit it, but he had been relieved when Zeb had opened the door; he was one person Anders never had to summon Bragi for because he just believed Anders when he said that he was waiting for Axl.

“Well, that is a mistake he won’t commit again…” Axl muttered and rolled his eyes.

“I…” Anders sighed, “whatever. So how was your day?”

Axl merely cocked one eyebrow and waited for Anders to tell him – or not – what had inspired him to come hang out in the rancid room of his baby brother rather than mope around, in style, in his luxurious condo.

“Did Mike give you grief again?” he asked after waiting for a long moment; Anders was strange like that sometimes, either he couldn’t stop talking – it was his job and his talent after all – or he just couldn’t get a single word out.

“Mike? Not more than usual…” Anders shrugged.

Axl didn’t like the note of defeat that coloured his brother’s tone; Anders was usually not one to give up easily. Most of his schemes were hare-brained and doomed to fail miserably at first sight, but he sure held on to them.

“What’s up?” Axl sat down on the bed next to his brother patiently.

“Stop that shit,” Anders growled, “I am not here to see Odin.”

“I am not talking to you as Odin…I am your brother still, do you remember that?”

Anders shot him a weary side-glance.

“As if I was ever allowed to forget that,” he muttered, “Mike is a despot, Ty is an eager beaver, and you’re just the blessed golden child, are you not?”

He could taste the bitterness of his words on his tongue and regret pulsed through him as he saw Axl’s face fall; no matter how much he struggled with their family dynamic at times, hurting Axl – their baby – was something none of them truly enjoyed.

“Me? I am epic loser, that’s what I am…” Axl shook his head slowly.

“Runs in the family then,” Anders murmured, thinking of the woman who wouldn’t leave his mind; she was like a poison that had paralysed all the coping mechanisms that propelled him – haphazardly but steadily – through a life he could not understand at times.

Things had been hard for all of them, Axl knew, and that gnawing sense of pressure and of guilt started weighing on the back of his neck again.

It felt as if the expectations of his family and the destiny of the world had been compressed into a singularly heavy millstone bound to the most fragile part of his lanky body, and he had no idea how to move on without having his knees give out under him.

“Don’t say that,” Axl smiled despite his own worries, “I cannot…I don’t know how to do this if you’re not…you!”

Anders looked up sharply, rubbing his hands over his face slowly before mumbling: “An utter jerk, you mean?”

This was what he was known for, it was what they expected him to be: uncaring and thoughtless.

“No, the dude who hears the melody through the noise,” Axl corrected softly.

It was a double-edged sword, Anders was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop because he knew that every line in a poem was necessarily waiting for its correspondent follow-up; only, you never knew if this rhyme wouldn’t change the atmosphere and the meaning of the whole piece.

The bitter truth was that Anders had burrowed himself deep into apathy and didn’t know how to get out again; he had cared – oh so much – and it had torn him to shreds.

How long had they been waiting on that day of justice when their powers were restored in full? Would it ever arrive? And most importantly, would it even change anything?

“Do you feel like everything is predestined?” Anders asked softly, “Do you sometimes get the impression that nothing we do really matters?”

Axl thought about it for a moment and then shook his head.

“No, because…” he nodded at the closed door, “because we’re more than some rank old Norse Gods. That ‘goon’ is my best friend, and he has been since before…the whole Odin thing.”

“Mortals,” Anders scoffed.

“You were a mortal once,” Axl reminded him gently, “and you were kind of an ass, I cannot deny that, but you were also loved. You always had a way of making people love you…”

“Did I? When did that stop?” Anders chuckled tiredly.

“When you started using your powers to get what you want…” Axl answered gently, “When you stopped believing that you could make people care by just…being yourself!”

“Being myself is being a piece of shit,” Anders contradicted, “and I’ve got enough people to back me up on this.”

“You are annoying,” Axl admitted, “but that doesn’t make you a bad person. Dawn still works for you, Anders. Zeb still lets you in. Despite everything that has happened, gods and mortals alike still enjoy your company. Doesn’t that count?”

“Half of those are my blood-relatives…” Anders guffawed, but his youngest brother’s words slowly seeped into his heart and mind like soothing water taking the sting of a burn away.

“Yes, and that’s a reason to stick around? True, that’s why Mike had to raise us…because being blood is enough to not…I don’t know…sail away or turn into a tree?!” Axl held his brother’s flickering gaze; he knew that – of all of them – he was the one who remembered least and that his brothers had hidden a lot of pain for his sake.

“You’ve got a point there,” Anders nodded slowly, “I am just tired of being me sometimes!”

“I understand that,” Axl grinned, feeling the mood of his brother lighten already, “you’re a pain in the ass.”

“OI!” Anders shoved him playfully and Axl pushed back.

“I’m glad you’re my brother, nonetheless,” Axl then admitted quietly, “this whole thing wouldn’t be the same without you. At least you like your powers.”

Anders nodded, Mike had refused for the longest time to even use his whereas Ty hated his god with a burning passion most of the time…and their grandfather was a nutcase with or without trying to channel the oracle within him.

“Also, you’re a good anti-example,” Axl laughed and bumped his shoulder against Anders’.

“I guess I am that,” Anders conceded softly, “thanks for cheering me up by defining how awful I really am.”

He said those words lightly, but – if he had been able to be honest to himself and Axl – he was indeed relieved to know that he was not the vessel of all evil in the world.

“You love me then?” he teased Axl who made a face as if Anders had asked him to lick the inside of his shoes.

“Yeah, you’re a bastard but you grow on people…like fungus!” Axl laughed, “I’ve brought pizza home from work. Care for a greasy slice and a cold beer?”

“Sure thing,” Anders nodded and watched his brother leave the room with that easy insouciance that was as much part of his nature as the strong moral fibre that he – himself – was apparently lacking.

As he stood up himself, he mulled over the words spoken and – for a moment – he could hear the melody of destiny under the cacophony of Axl slamming the oven shut and Zeb humming something to himself.

He’d still wait for the other shoe to drop but – against all odds – he would hope that this poem, being written by the hands of fate in the ink of his lifeblood, would end in bliss and fortune.

@blairsanne thank you for your support

Without you & @laurfilijames, I'd never have had the courage to try this 🌞

#fanfiction #writing #TAJ #the almightly johnsons #anders johnson #axl johnson #brothers #comfort #solace #truth

[lailyn]

Argh, I know, I shouldn't be greedy, but I just love a good whump fic and I love Strangefrost and I love your writing... so, might I humbly ask for another?? Maybe?? For the - I don't know - the digestive system maybe?

Here ya go! This one's a bit longer, it kinda got away from me. 😅

A Fool For You

It began with a relic gone missing. A sword forged in blood and tears, the sword was said to have been used to lop off the head of a tyrannical emperor after he had used it to slaughter his own brothers, all six of them. 

It was a dangerous katana that required a calming ritual at every turn of the century to temper its blade, for it could turn the susceptible, the most innocent into murderous monsters. 

Stephen had been lucky to escape unharmed that morning when he awoke to the blade pressed against his throat, wielded by an invisible hand, controlled by long-range magic.

Stephen had been lucky Loki was there to banish the spectral intruder and restore the katana to its resting place in the Sanctum vault under lock and key. 

Reading the blade that had almost taken his human from him only led them back to Kamar-Taj, but the trail ended there. 

There was a traitor in their midst. 

"Nothing's going to happen to me." 

Or so Stephen kept insisting. 

Loki was no fool. It would take more than vapid assurances to assuage this urge in him to tear whoever dared harm a hair on Stephen's head limb from limb.

Wong thought it could be a Zealot who might have escaped from having to join Kaecilius on his eternal journey to be one with the Dark Lord Dormammu. 

Stephen made a sound argument of the low probability, seeing how the Dark Dimension was as good as sealed forever with the Book of Cagliostro gone, but Loki had disguised himself as one of them that very night and searched each and every Master, fellow and apprentice for the telltale mark on the forehead. 

If someone cared for his opinion, Loki thought Stephen was being too complacent with his life.

"Loki, I am not going to lock myself up in the Mirror Dimension!" 

Stephen had the gall to laugh at Loki's suggestion. For that, Loki did not speak to him for an entire day. 

As the night grew closer, Stephen had given up trying to apologise for something he did not believe he did wrong and resigned himself to the idea of attending the communal dinner at Kamar-Taj without his plus one. Sorcerer Supremes had traditionally been lonesome creatures, and initially Stephen even thought of himself as such. 

Until he met Loki. 

Stephen abhorred gossip. If the Sorcerer Supreme and the (reformed) God of Mischief were indeed an item, he would rather come clean about it than suffer salacious stories being passed around behind his back. 

But since Loki was a no-show, Stephen was going to suffer them for one more day, until he could figure out what to do...or what not to do. When it came to Loki, abstaining was just as important. 

So that was how Stephen had come to sit at the head of the table, flanked by a representative from the other two Sanctums. Wong had drawn the short straw by virtue of his being Stephen's second-in-command and sadly had to stay behind in New York.

A young man barely out of his teens came to the high table with a set of tea. 

“A new apprentice. I recruited him from the streets of Kowloon City,” Master Murata murmured in the Sorcerer Supreme’s ear. “I think he’s got potential.”

Stephen looked at the scabies burrows in the webs between the boy’s fingers, the badly damaged nails from a chronic nail-biting problem superimposed with a fungal infection. 

Must have been homeless, he deduced. Family problems? A runaway?

Stephen watched as the boy poured a pinkish golden liquid into the three cups in front of them. It glittered with edible gold petals. 

“Sour plum tea,” Master Murata nodded in approval. He held up his cup, “Here’s to our Sorcerer Supreme. May you live in interesting times.”

If the wording sounded odd, it could only be due to the Guardian of the Hong Kong Sanctum’s oriental heritage. 

Stephen surreptitiously waited for both Guardians to finish drinking first before raising his own cup to his lips to take his first sip.

"Sorcerer Supreme, there you are!"

"Wong?" Stephen's forehead furrowed at the sight of his friend marching down the dais toward him. "What are you doing here?"

Wong grabbed the cup out of the Sorcerer Supreme's hand and drank it all in one gulp. 

"That hit the spot," he declared, delicately fingering the corners of his lips. 

"M-Master Wong," Master Murata stammered. 

"What's gotten into you?" Stephen muttered. He held out the empty cup for a refill, but Wong quickly grabbed his wrist. "Wong!"

The apprentice scurried away with the tray; Wong followed the retreating form with his eyes until the boy disappeared amongst the dinner crowd. 

With a wide smile Stephen had never seen the likes of it on Wong’s face before, his best friend boldly grabbed him around the wrist and yanked him out of his seat. "This is simply no time to be drinking! Come, I have much to tell you!"

"It's just tea," Stephen grumbled, more curious than embarrassed at being manhandled in public.  

Just as they passed a few Masters in the hall, Wong stumbled and would have fallen had Stephen not caught his friend. 

“Really, Wong, one would think you had been imbibing…” Stephen's voice trailed off at the sight of perspiration dotting his friend's forehead. “Wong?”

“Take me to your room,” Wong grunted, and Stephen froze, for Wong’s voice suddenly sounded so much like -

“Loki?”

In the blink on an eye, Stephen teleported them to his room and Wong slowly sank to his knees with a soft, forlorn sigh; his form shimmered as all manner of glamour dropped, revealing Loki's shaking form. 

At the tell-tale shudder, Stephen quickly grabbed a trash can from under his desk and shoved it under Loki's head just in time to catch the first of his stomach contents. 

"Poison?"

Loki nodded frantically as another wave of extreme nausea surged up his gullet.

"But how? We were all drinking the same thing!" Stephen demanded.  

“It wasn't the tea,” Loki gasped. “It was the cup.” 

"If you knew it was poisoned, why couldn't you have just told me? Why did you have to drink it?" Stephen berated.

"Now you have evidence," Loki managed in between gasps. "Somebody was trying to kill you."

Loki lashed out a hand which his lover caught unthinkingly; into Stephen's palm Loki pressed the ceramic cup he had drunk from. 

"It's the lacquer," he wheezed; the pain raging in his stomach was making it difficult to breathe. "It...reacted with the gold leaf. Turned the tea."

Stephen stared at the object in his hand. True enough, the urushiol lacquer had corroded away, leaving behind a suspicious white deposit that had formed a sediment at the bottom of the cup. 

Loki had done it all on purpose...impersonating Wong, stealing Stephen's drink right under his nose and making sure everyone saw him drink out of the Sorcerer Supreme's cup -

And stumbling in the hallway with witnesses around had been in part an act, the rest of it very, very real...as real as the blood dribbling down Loki’s chin as his body tried to purge the poison. He heaved and heaved uncontrollably into the trash can, his long hair limp and matted to his scalp like a crown of thorns.

But before Stephen could hold his hair back for him, another violent cramp folded Loki in half, his desperate cry of the kind Stephen had never heard out of the God of Mischief before.

"Oh, Loki…" Stephen could not help but moan. "Why must you always do this?"

Loki shuddered and wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. He slowly sank to the floor, prostrating on the tatami mat, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. 

"I'll live," he sighed. "You wouldn't have."

Stephen leveled his writhing lover with a frosty look. "What made you think I could live with this on my conscience?"

Loki's eyes fluttered to a close. "As long as you lived, I don't particularly care."

Stephen heaved a sigh of frustration and sickening anxiety. "What can I do?"

"Hang the perpetrators by their entrails, that would be a start," Loki groaned. He curled up as tightly as his cramping muscles would allow. "Norns!" 

Stephen rummaged through his apothecary cabinet and waved potion after potion of possible remedial value, only for every jar to be waved away. 

"I've purged it all." Loki bared teeth slick with blood in a grotesque grimace as he tried to breathe through the worst of the cramps. "It's just the sequelae now."

Tears sprang to Stephen's eyes as he dropped onto his knees next to his ill lover. "You are such a fool."

Loki chuckled weakly. "Ah yes, that I am. A fool for you."

A furious tear escaped and made its way down Stephen's cheek. He gathered Loki's long limbs in his arms and lifted the trembling figure gently into his lap, holding him upright. "I'm such a fool."

"Stephen, don't." Utterly exhausted, Loki could do no more than squeeze the protective arm around his neck. "I'm alright. Truly."

"I will find whoever did this," he heard Stephen vow in his ear and the tension drained out of Loki's body like water.

"Good," Loki hummed faintly. 

If putting himself in jeopardy was what it took to get Stephen to give a damn about his own life...then Loki had no objection whatsoever. Nor had he any objection to the comfortable weight of Stephen's hand on his aching belly, or to the healing magic furious at work, aiding the repair of any internal damage caused by the poison. 

"I am going to sleep now," Loki murmured, sagging in Stephen's embrace like a sack of bones. 

As Loki drifted off into a restorative slumber, he could hear Stephen mumble something in his ear. It sounded a lot like 'I love you', but Loki could not be sure.

Stephen was just going to have to say it again when next he awakened.

#strangefrost #loki #froststrange #loki whump #sick loki #fic #ask #doctor strange