Source: bcnquet
Source: bcnquet
sorcerxr reblogged
TL;DR “DOCTOR STRANGE I’VE COME TO BARGAIN!!!!!”
“…BITCHIN’…”
sorcerxr reblogged
Strange Tales, featuring Dr Strange 188, November 1976
i started a hannibal playlist on spotify at work last night & there are 20 songs on it already
i’m finishing up season 3 of hannibal & literally cannot function enough to do anything else until it’s over just fyi
sorcerxr reblogged
in my defense, i was left unattended
sorcerxr reblogged
Now let the rising tide of power, From birth of stars to final doom, Reveal the place, the form, the hour, Where light’s salvation forth may bloom, Where seen and unseen twine and blend.. – And darkness end.
Source: sorcerxr
sorcerxr reblogged
Now let the rising tide of power, From birth of stars to final doom, Reveal the place, the form, the hour, Where light’s salvation forth may bloom, Where seen and unseen twine and blend.. – And darkness end.
Source: sorcerxr
well!! drafts and inbox are empty! new theme, new promo too. i’ve gotta go to sleepwatch more Hannibalbecause I’m working an 11-hour day tomorrow. if i manage to be on at all, it’ll be after my closing shift.
if you’d like a starter of variable length this weekend, hit the blood-pumping organ
Now let the rising tide of power, From birth of stars to final doom, Reveal the place, the form, the hour, Where light's salvation forth may bloom, Where seen and unseen twine and blend.. -- And darkness end.
Source: sorcerxr
sorcerxr reblogged
It’s not that she doesn’t trust him implicitly, at this point she’d lost count of how many times they had brought each other back from the brink–had been the leaning shoulder and the soothing hand.
But she can’t help a sense of apprehension when he mentions PAIN. It was human nature to balk at pain, it wasn’t a reflection of her trust in him.
With one last look at his face, his expression solemn and focused, she does close her eyes. Arms falling to her side and face tilted toward him to compensate for the height difference. Warm finger tips touch her cheeks, for a brief moment she leans into the touch–mild as it is–before straightening a little more.
Inhale.
Exhale.
She waits, vulnerable and lax under his gaze.
For a very long moment he did nothing, simply enjoying that simple contact of soft skin beneath fingertips. He considered how his face must look-- was he holding onto that serious focus he practiced so often, or was the mask slipping and letting free the merriment the situation truly called for?
..was that wariness in Christine’s eyes, or was he simply seeing imagined fears?
In the blink of an eye, the goop that covered her lightened in weight to almost nothing, the blue color remaining. Instead, every previously-oozed inch was covered in tiny blue butterflies.
They weren’t real, of course; simply an easy change of matter as the bond weakened from the dimension in the book. The sudden existence seemed to startle the faux insects and they fluttered up and away, leaving Christine (and her jacket) completely unharmed.
sorcerxr reblogged
Last Resort ||
Her own head ached from the contact but she did her best to hide the throb that ran through her. Instead, her head turned to try and see her bindings in an attempt to figure out if there was any sort of leeway. Nothing. Only burns around her skin that were sure to last quite a while. Just more marks along pale skin, HYDRA having left their marks on her long ago.
“Mentally, Strange! You should know what this is like! How would you feel if you were confine, unable to use gifts. It hurts. Physically! Like FIRE.” Perhaps it was just her. Just her form of chaos magic. “At least do not bind me. I cannot become calm then. It scares me. Restraints. Small rooms. I just cannot.”
“—I want Pietro.” She had actually fallen silent until the request had finally left her lips. Her head had become bowed, almost has if she had shut down. Pietro. Her fallen twin. Dead. “Let me go, Strange. Just let me go.”
He kept his distance now, despite her bonds, fully aware that a comforting touch or close proximity would do nothing for his friend. In silence he allowed her to continue her struggles, considering other options.
Could he nudge her mentally into sleep? Just temporarily, until he found a better solution to hold her? Could he construct a wall in time to calm her himself, rather than rely on her to overcome her own habitual fear?
“You killed seven people, Wanda--” The sorcerer reminded her firmly, words echoing in the small space, as he emerged from these thoughts.
“Before we even consider any changes, I need you to acknowledge aloud that there is an issue that needs fixing. You cannot be confused about this. Just tell me you understand. I’ll let you down. I promise you this.”
sorcerxr reblogged
newt glanced over the menu for a minute before kind of picking jasmine tea. he wasn’t fond of coffee and did not want anything else really. water would have been fine, but they charged quite a lot for even water and he found it a bit ridiculous.
❝ newt scamander. magizoologist. i can assure you mister strange, nothing in the case is dangerous. ❞
the wizard seemed to unconsciously place his case upon his lap, as if protecting it from something or someone, but he didn’t feel like stephen would try to make any sudden moves toward the case. newt was just being a bit protective, even if he really didn’t seem to notice it.
❝ do you work for macusa? ❞
“I’m.. unfamiliar with that name,” Strange admitted, filing it back into his thoughts for later, in case he should look into this Macusa.
“I work independently of any government organization. I don’t often run into other surprise magic talents, especially not on the streets, in traffic.”
Daring to allow his curiosity to override caution, Stephen folded his arms on the table, leaning towards Newt with clear interest. “That explains your little pocket friend, then. You said you were looking for a gift here-- but why would a magizoologist need to travel to New York for a gift?”