#his handkerchief into the Cloak of Levitation

[sailtomarina]

A Lovely Idea

Scorpius & Rose | @hp-yuletide-bliss Day 7: “It’s a perfect mix of sweet and bitter! And the cream just has the perfect texture, see? Just try it!” | WC 726 | Rating: G

The Great Hall looked just as enchanting as it did every winter, with snowflakes falling steadily downward, yet somehow disappearing before even touching their heads. Wreaths and garlands hung from every possible surface, including the walls, doors, tables, and even the light sconces featuring each house’s mascot. The ever-present candles floating overhead seemed to glow even brighter with holiday cheer, and Scorpius spotted what he suspected were snow fairies flitting amidst the river of lights.

“Scorpius, over here!”

His friend’s hiss had him angling his path towards the Gryffindor table, where Rose Granger-Weasley sat behind the biggest goblet of hot chocolate he’d ever seen. A mountain of whipped cream topped the monstrosity. He slid in next to her and bumped shoulders in greeting.

“That’s, uh, an impressive drink.”

She preened at his comment, puffing her chest out as if she had been the one to concoct the confection.

“I know, right? The House Elves took my specifications down exactly. Hopefully it tastes like it should.”

He frowned at that. “Isn’t a hot chocolate just a hot chocolate? What more is there?”

Rose gaped at him, like he’d insulted her favorite book, or said something about her ginger curls–which no one in their right mind obviously would. Her feelings on that particular subject were made very clear from their first day at Hogwarts.

“It’s not just any hot cocoa. It’s Mexican hot cocoa.”

At his blank look, she sighed loudly.

“It’s a perfect mix of sweet and bitter! And the cream just has the perfect texture, see?” She spooned up a bit of the cloudy topping and licked it clean. “Just try it!”

Rose shifted the goblet towards him, and all he could do was stare down at it. Or…up at it? It really was gigantic. How did one even begin to approach a drink of this size? Did he just pick it up, tip, and hope for the best? Wouldn’t that just give him a face full of cream? Should he use a spoon and try to lessen some of the barrier?

“How…?”

“Oh, for Godric’s sake,” Rose groaned, pulling the glass back towards herself.

He watched with a healthy amount of anticipation as she firmly grasped the edges and lifted the beverage towards her face.

“Mmmmmmmf!”

The goblet landed back on the table in a loud thunk.

“I somehow thought that might go differently,” he muttered, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe at her face.

“Here, just…” she pointed towards her mouth, where he dutifully swiped at the whipped cream, before she picked up her wand to finish off the job with a handy cleaning spell. Confusion lined her forehead and she stared at the ruined confection. She sighed heavily. “It was such a lovely idea.”

Scorpius stifled the snort that fought to come out. She’d said the exact same thing when she decided to “enhance” their Levitation spell and ended up nearly sending Professor Flitwick straight into the ceiling. She’d said the exact same thing when she convinced Albus to use the Invisibility Cloak to search for one of the secret passageways they’d heard about in their parents’ stories and ended up running from Peeves instead. She’d said the exact same thing when she attempted to “steady” Albus’ broomstick during Flying Class, resulting in his prompt visit to the Hospital Wing with a broken arm.

“Why don’t we just,” he scooped off the majority of the cream and dropped it with a plop onto a saucer, then gestured for her to try again. “Take a sip, then use your spoon on the cream.”

“That kind of defeats the purpose of drinking the cocoa through the whipped cream,” she grumbled, but she did what he suggested, anyway.

Scorpius once again schooled his features into the perfect picture of neutrality when she squealed her pleasure at the successful endeavor.

“It’s so good! Now you!”

It was good, the way the rich chocolate gave off just a hint of something spicy. The whipped cream did a bang-up job of cutting the heat and adding the right amount of silky sweetness to offset the dark chocolate.

“What makes it spicy?”

“Chili powder!”

“Not bad.”

Rose scoffed at the lukewarm praise, knowing as well as he that the drink was, indeed, brilliant, just like her.

Not that Scorpius would tell her that, at least not until they were older.

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3.

It’s time to revisit the kids, who I’ve been wanting to write more about for quite a while now but just wasn’t sure where to start just yet. Christmas has given me quite a bit of inspiration with the comfortable themes and imagery. It also helps reading all the other great scenes others have written in the holiday spirit.

[oreosmilkshakes]

Adore You

Pairing: Stephen Strange x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,038

Warnings: Mild Spoilers for DSMoM! 

A/N: I don’t remember the dialogue so please excuse it :DD. This fic was inspired by a post on Tumblr I saw which said something about Stephen saving the reader from a bad man. I hope ya’ll enjoyed it! (also I wrote this in like an hour and a half and it was more to a fluffy side)

Edit: (also, I found the post! :D)

Comments/feedback are appreciated!

Taglist: NIL

--------------------------------------------

[Name] never understood the true meaning of love until she met Stephen Strange. The first time she met the Sorcerer, he had saved her before a large concrete debris could squish her during the Black Order’s attack on Earth seven years ago. Unfortunately, she was a victim of the snap and five years of her life were gone, just like that.

In an attempt to gain traction of normality, [Name] spent a majority of her time in New York where she met with Stephen again. Little did they know, it would sprout into a beautiful relationship. A coffee offer turned into a date and a date turned into a two-year healthy relationship. Stephen was the first one to confess. He was ready to let go of his hold on Christine and move on. He found a future with [Name] and he vowed to not mess it up the same way he did with Christine.

It became his biggest regret.

Stephen woke up with a frantic yell, cold sweat coated his bare body. His chest heaved continuously, the nightmare plagued his mind. It felt all too real too. Stephen raised a hand, fingers pushing hair away from his forehead as he forced himself to absorb the experience. Turning to his lover’s side of the bed, he found it to be empty.

“[Name?],” Stephen called out, only silence greeted him. That’s when he realised that [Name] had an early shift in the cafe. The cold was familiar but that doesn’t mean he liked it. Stephen very much prefers waking up next to [Name].

Pushing the duvet off, his attention was caught to his side table, an opened envelope rested against the bedside lamp. Stephen picked it up, mentally slapping himself for almost forgetting about Christine’s wedding. With a wave of his hand, his closet doors opened. But before he did anything else, he picked up his phone. There were ‘work’ emails and texts from Wong. Among all that, Stephen smiled when he spotted her name. He tapped on the message.

[Name]: Good morning, handsome! I left some breakfast for you in the kitchen. Have fun at Christine’s wedding! And send my regards to her

His smile widened at the attached photo of his lover dressed in her barista attire with a fellow colleague. She was winking, tongue sticking out with a peace sign held up beside her head. Shaking his head at her childish yet adorable behaviour, he left his phone to freshen up with [Name] on his mind.

Stephen waved his hand, his tie magically bound itself around his neck. He slipped on the black blazer, smoothing the fabric down. The Cloak levitated by the mirror and with another wave of his hand, the sentient fabric was disguised as a red handkerchief for his breast pocket. He looked good but he was sure he would look better with [Name] on his arm.

Fastening his watch on his wrist, the very same one [Name] gifted him on their first anniversary. Stephen smiled fondly at it, the crystal glinted under the dimmed light. His thumb brushed the leather, shaking his head to snap himself back to reality.

He had better leave or else he would be late for the wedding

Stephen arrived at the church by walking. He prefered this way. He recognised the street too, noticing that just a few blocks down was the cafe [Name] worked at. He made a mental note to pick her up after the wedding, only then reminding himself that she would end her shift around the time of the reception.

He walked past the doors, the church was bustling lightly with guests of the wedding. Stephen looked around- He always knew how much Christine loved simplicity. He chose to sit a short distance from the altar, just to watch Christine and her new husband share their vows.

He took his seat, waiting patiently until the ceremony began. When the doors opened, flower girls led the bride, littering flowers in the path she walked. The guests stood, Stephen included. Christine had a big smile on her lips as she held the bouquet of flowers in her hands, walking down the aisle.

Their eyes briefly met and Stephen knew that old Stephen would still be in love with her. But he wasn’t. He loved [Name] with all his heart.

However, Stephen couldn’t help but imagine this wedding to be his own with [Name]. ‘When the time is right,’ The Sorcerer thought, his focus brought back to the wedding.

The reception was at an adjacent building to the church. Stephen was alone, sipping on a martini when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, meeting with the new bride.

A soft smile spread on his lips.

“Christine,”

“Stephen,”

“Congratulations on the wedding,”

Christine smiled, adjusting her gown.

“Thank you,”

Silence.

“So..I saw that you were alone. Where’s [Name]?,” She began.

Stephen set his drink down.

“Last minute shift at work. She sends her regard,”

Christine laughed lightly, nodding.

“I’ll be sure to thank her when I see her again. Although, I hope the next wedding I attend is yours and [Name]’s,” Christine teased.

Stephen found himself growing more and more comfortable with these light and almost teasing conversations with Christine. He hated past Stephen’s treatment of her but he had the time to fix their relationship. It was good probably because [Name] forced him to set it all right and Stephen loved her more for that.

A woman tapped on Christine’s shoulder, whispering something to her before leaving.

The shorter woman looked up at Stephen.

“I have to go. Enjoy the rest of the reception,” And she left, leaving Stephen to order another glass of martini.

For the next two hours, Stephen forced himself to mingle around. He wasn’t surprised to find fans of him attending the wedding too and he was humble to be their favourite. He was on his fifth martini and he looked down at his watch. He needed some fresh air so he left for the balcony.

The warm sun struck his face and Stephen sighed softly in relief. He looked down below, watching New Yorkers go about their day as well as vehicles cluttering the street below.

As his eyes scanned the street below, he spotted a distant figure looking all too familiar. It was [Name], bag clutched to her chest and another man pestering her by the looks of it.

Stephen’s eyes darken, fingers gripping the stem of the martini glass.

[Name] thanked her manager for the early release. It was two in the afternoon and she was exhausted from the lunch crowd. She held her bag close, leaving the cafe hastily in the direction of the Sanctorum. Greenwich Village wasn’t big so everything was within walking distance, probably.

[Name] had a spring in her step as she walked, excited to see Stephen at home looking all handsome in his suit. Stephen had dropped her a photo of his wear for the wedding and she had to excuse herself to the back of the cafe to swoon to herself. Despite their two years of relationship, [Name] could never get enough of Stephen and he was the same. She imagined him looking magically handsome in their imagined wedding, an audible sigh escaping her lips.

However, her little dream bubble was interrupted when a man tapped on her shoulder.

“Hey, miss! Sorry but I can’t help but notice you. You’re really pretty, you know that?”

Uncomfort grew largely in her chest, swallowing as [Name] tried to ignore the pesky man but to no avail.

She walked faster and even if she did, the man caught up to her.

“Hey come on now, pretty lady. Don’t ignore me like that,” He grinned an ugly grin and she turned to him.

“Leave me alone,” She snapped, rolling her eyes.

This wasn’t her first time being approached by men who clearly couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. The other two times, Stephen was there to protect her but right now, [Name] was alone and she had to protect herself. A last result method would be the little device Stephen gave you to protect yourself.

It was a little spray tube that when sprayed at, the victim would fall asleep on the spot.

[Name] rummaged her bag for the little tube but she didn’t feel anything. Did she leave it at home?

‘Of all the days,’ [Name] groaned.

[Name] felt a hand caught her wrist and she tensed as the man had that same ugly smile on his face.

“Come on! Just try to get to know me, yeah? I’m really a good guy,”

He had a vice grip to her wrist and the more [Name] struggled, the more her wrist hurt.

Stephen has had enough. He downed the last of his drink, turning to politely return the glass to a waiting staff. Grabbing his handkerchief, he flicked it out, the Cloak was out of its disguise. Stephen vaulted off the balcony, the Cloak wrapped around his shoulders to save its master. He switched his suit for his blue robes, swiftly flying down to [Name]. Wedding guests and nearby passersby gasped at the mini show, watching as Doctor Strange heroically save a woman.

He grabbed the man by the collar, pulling him off the woman.

[Name] winced, rubbing her wrist, stepping away to give Stephen some space.

“Listen here, asshole. I don’t appreciate you treating my woman like that. Hell, or any woman like that. It doesn't hurt to treat them with some decency and respect,” Stephen growled, blue eyes dark with pools of fiery anger hiding behind them.

He tightened his grip to the frightened man’s collar.

“If I ever see you disrespecting anyone else, I will do so much worse than this. Now leave,” Stephen hissed, shoving the man back and just before he could run, the Cloak gave his head a final,  hard smack as a form of warning.

He wasted no time picking [Name] up bridal style, the woman squeaked in embarrassment from the sudden act that she buried her face in Stephen as he flew back to the Sanctorum.

Stephen set her down on her feet, his hands held her waist as [Name] let out a heavy sigh of relief. Her cheeks were still red and hair was a slight mess from the wind.

“Thank you..I was beginning to think he was never going to go away,”

Stephen cracked a small smile, a hand moving up to cup her cheek.

“Don’t thank me. I was nearby,”

[Name] squinted hard before snapping her finger.

“Right! Christine’s wedding was close. Oh, thank you so much, honey,”

She leaned up, giving him a tight hug and a sweet kiss to his cheek.

All anger Stephen felt dissipated into nothingness, heart cooled from the affectionate gesture. His other hand held [Name]’s wrist, the one where the man held tightly. It was red and felt relieved when he noted that it would not bruise.

“I’m alright, Stephen,”

“I know, baby, but I just have to check,”

[Name] smiled. He cared so much and she felt so loved by how much she cared for him. She was no hero but she did her very best in only giving Stephen the best form of love he could receive from her.

Stephen’s hand moved to her waist again, gripping it tightly before leaning in until their foreheads touched. He leaned in further.

[Name] laughed lightly, leaning in for a kiss too.

But a heavy shake of the ground pulled both out of their little world.

“What was that?”

Stephen pulled away completely, rushing towards the edge of the roof to look down below.

In the distant street, people were screaming and running away from something.

“Trouble. I have to go,” Stephen levitated, ready to leave.

“Wait!” [Name] rushed to Stephen, tugging him down. She planted a kiss to his lips, giggling lightly from the tickle of his goatee against her chin.

“I love you. Now go save New York, Doctor Strange!” She cheered, stepping back. She waved to Stephen, the Sorcerer had a wide smile and never has she seen Stephen Strange smile so widely, especially one filled with so much love and adoration.

[webtrinsic1122]

America & Stephen Interactions that I’d die for:

• Stephen singing a lullaby (probably a random song he talks about during the first movie) absently to America on a night she couldn’t sleep, a surprised America stays silent and listens.

• Stephen carrying a worn out America close while she clings to his tunic

• America grabbing at Stephen’s arm and begging him to try new food with her, or to try the food she made (mainly the recipes she learned throughout the multiverse)

• Stephen teaching America how to swim, constantly thinking about his sister, holding America’s arms and teaching her the motions

• America changing the color of her robes to match his navy blue, silently hoping he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t but he certainly notices and just smiles smugly and tries as he might not to tease her lest she go back to the boring maroon

• Stephen sends the cloak of levitation after her as a protective link, either as a ribbon or extra button or patch in the same way he disguised it as a handkerchief for himself at the wedding to keep her safe

• america fretting over Stephen when he’s injured, and I mean fretting, hands shaking as she helps dab at wounds. Nervously getting him meds and water, legit like refilling his glass before it’s even empty, and getting him food when she thinks he’s too gaunt.

• (avengers and superheroes are all on vacation) America talking to Stephen in the hot tub. Stephen fondly watching america make timid friends with Spider-Man and Ms. Marvel. America nervously looking to Stephen as if to ask if it’s okay for her to go out and have fun and him giving a nod of yes

• america trying to hide her injuries from him but of course he notices, with soft and stern eyes, calling for her to let him help her

• america embarrassed over something and him pushing her hair behind her ear so she can’t hide away like she tries to when embarrassed

• Stephen calling her kiddo

Ugh I love this father daughter duo sm, like god they just needed a family so bad and now they have each other

[lesbeanieboo]

It Started With A Handkerchief

It started with a handkerchief. Peter had seen Doctor Strange give it to Tony on his birthday, and had later seen that same handkerchief in several different places at the sanctum. So yeah, the handkerchief was Peter's first clue. After the handkerchief, Peter started to notice little things like the fleeting glances at each other when they thought no one was looking, their fingers brushing together far too often to even possibly be an accident. Peter wondered if this was a new development, or if it had started far before the handkerchief.

The handkerchief was not the only thing that was where it shouldn’t be. The sanctum started to have tiny bits of tech lying about, and on several occasions Peter had tripped over a screwdriver that seemed to come from nowhere. Coffee appeared in the sanctum’s kitchen, and Stephen’s favorite tea at Stark Tower. The cloak of levitation made a habit out of visiting the Tower, or more specifically Tony, as well.

Peter did not know how it took him so long to realize that the pair were together in a way that was beyond friendship, the two were practically inseparable. He was already referring to Tony as Irondad, in part as a joke and in part on accident, so he tentatively called Stephen his Doctor dad. It went unnoticed after the first time, so Peter started referring to Stephen as Doctor dad more and more, until it became the norm for Stephen to be referred to as such by Peter.

After Stephen revealed the existence of sorcerers and his identity to the general public, Peter decided to browse the internet to see the thoughts of the masses. There were many who were shocked, and a few from that group started with conspiracy theories that the sorcerers has caused everything wrong in the world somehow, which did not surprise Peter. He was used to this feedback whenever a new superhero or group came out of the woodwork. What did surprise Peter was not the negative feedback on sorcery, but the rapidly growing section of the internet who immediately started to pair Stephen with another superhero, the most common being Tony. How had the internet seen something between the two so quickly, when it had taken himself months to realize their relationship?

A year after Stephen revealed the existence of sorcerers, Tony and Stephen announced that they would be holding a press conference. Peter wondered what the topic of the conference could be. There had been no threats of an alien invasion, at least to his knowledge, and there hadn’t been any particularly revolutionary invention from Tony this month. Peter searched around and asked others what they thought it could be about, but his efforts bore no fruit. Peter accepted that he would just have to wait and watch the conference on the TV when it happened.

The day of the conference finally came after what had seemed like months, when only three days had passed. The whole city had been buzzing about the press conference, as it was usually fairly easy to guess what would be announced, but this time all there was to go on about what would be happening was that both Tony Stark and Stephen Strange would be present, but none of the other avengers would be part of the conference. Tony and Stephen walked onto the platform and sat behind the table that was there.

“We know that all of you have been wondering what was going on, why we are holding this press conference…” Tony began.

Stephen continued his sentence with “and the truth is we have an announcement to make regarding the relationship between two of the avengers, specifically Tony and I. The truth is, we have been dating in secret for a while now, and…”

While Stephen talked, Tony appeared to get more and more excited until he thrust his left hand up and burst out “WE ARE GETTING MARRIED!!!”

After this announcement, the press conference continued on, with questions about the date for the wedding, who would be invited, and other such questions. When it ended and Tony and Stephen returned home only to be immediately met by Peter, who only had one question on his mind,

“How was your relationship supposed to be a SECRET?”

———————————————————————

Howdy! This is my first fill for the ironstrange Bingo because I have horrible time management! Hooray! The prompt for this was secret couple. I’ll be adding it to my ao3 (Starlight314) soon, so go say hey over there if you want! I’m sorry, I really suck at titles and whatever. Have a good day!

[kidlightnings]

Tagged by @queenofeden with her lovely Laurel ♥️

More than y'all ever wanted to know about the Kys

Tagging @beingatoaster and @joshuaorrizonte and anyone else who wants to (:

Female Ky

BASICS

Name: Ky

Nickname(s)/Titles: Love, Dear

Age: ?? 28-32

Birthday: Jun 13

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Gender: cis F (pre-game nb afab)

Pronouns: she/her (pre-game they/them)

Orientation: bi

Favorite flower: hibiscus

Favorite food: Panna Cotta

Favorite drink: cold peach tea

Love Interest: Asra, au version with Julian on the side (informed, consensual)

APPEARANCE/PHYSICAL TRAITS

Height: 5′7"

Weight: 180lbs

Body type/build: bottom-heavy, pretty strong though from working in the shop, but soft

Skin: pale as heque, green/yellow undertones

Hair: medium blue with light blue bangs/fringe and a violet gradient towards the ends - mid-back length, heavily layered - usually loose but sometimes in high pony or pigtails

Eyes: medium grey

Distinguishing features: few, very pale, some very faint scars on her hands from crafting and brewing accidents

Clothing: lots of cropped tops and loose pants she can move around in, more formally, she goes more skintight

Physical health: healthy, which is good because she's a huge baby about getting sick

PERSONALITY/INTERESTS

Personality: confident, ambitious, sometimes both to a fault. Can be a bit blunt/direct and tactless, will take charge of a situation if she feels she has the skills to solve it, "I can, so I must," soft and compassionate, can be a little too "nice" and make situations worse by trying to do the "right" thing (her opinion of the right thing, is the problem), a bit of a know it all, addicted to being right

Likes: peaches, sweets, learning new and somewhat taboo magic, rainy weather, Asra's mouth

Dislikes: getting too hot, being told no, having to behave too seriously, shoes

Fears: failure, being abandoned

Habits: rambling when uncertain, tidying, rolling things in her palm, folding paper or fabric into shapes, idly taking things apart, picking at loose edges

Mental health: adhd as heeeeck, inattentive and hyperfocus

LIFE

Residence: the shop

Occupation: potions and readings, both tarot and seer/seance sessions, exotic flower cultivation and arranging - her arrangements are some of the best in the city, but she also takes very few clients per month to avoid taxing the plants, and so that she has enough to send to the palace

Skills: dream walking/visions (non-specific/non-directed), flower and herbal cultivation and crossbreeding

TRIVIA

Ky has a taste for experimental concoctions and has definitely put herself into altered states both by accident and on purpose

A total princess about taking it up the ass - open to it, just a huge brat about it

Ky does a lot of things by feeling that turn out to be correct. A lot of it is latent memories informing her decisions.

Milky

BASICS

Name: Ky

Nickname(s)/Titles: Love (Asra), Dear, Darling (Nadia)

Age: ?? 28-32

Birthday: Jun 13

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Gender: cis M (pre-game nb afab)

Pronouns: he/him (pre-game they/them)

Orientation: bi

Favorite flower: hibiscus

Favorite food: Panna Cotta

Favorite drink: cold peach tea

Love Interest: Asra for Bad End, Nadia for good end

APPEARANCE/PHYSICAL TRAITS

Height: 5′7"

Weight: 150lbs

Body type/build: slim, somewhat athletic, actually works out

Skin: pale as heque, green/yellow undertones

Hair: medium blue with light blue bangs/fringe and a violet gradient towards the ends - mid-back length, heavily layered - usually loose but sometimes in high pony or pigtails

Eyes: medium grey

Distinguishing features: few, very pale, some very faint scars on his hands from crafting and brewing accidents

Clothing: lots of cropped tops and loose pants he can move around in, more formally, he goes more skintight

Physical health: healthy, a huge baby about getting sick

PERSONALITY/INTERESTS

Personality: nervous, supportive, sweet-natured, quietly sarcastic when very comfortable or angry, can spiral into anxiety at the first sign of mistake on his part, will take over a situation if someone seems even more unsure or seems scared, can be very brave if it's Necessary, in general can rise to need, but only if it doesn't feel like someone else can do it, "I must, so I can," very vain (rooted in insecurity/perfectionism)

Likes: snow, silk, cuddling, spending time in the garden, napping, genuine praise

Dislikes: giving directions/orders, pressure

Fears: failure, being useless

Habits: embroidery, fidgets, checks himself out in every reflective surface, chews his lips

Mental health: ADHD, the most. RSD, hyperfocus

LIFE

Residence: the shop, or the palace

Occupation: palace magician, tending to the palace gardens and restoring endangered plants, healing

Skills: cultivation and splicing of plants, especially fruit trees and flowers, dream walking, learning, reverse-engineering, and modifying magical processes, magical healing and physical therapy

TRIVIA

Ky embroiders handkerchiefs and scarves. He gives them as gifts, but also has a personal collection that he puts into his coat pockets whenever he needs to dress formally around the palace. They’re perfectly matched to outfits Nadia has tailored to him. Asra and Muriel have quite a few. Maybe too many, according to Muriel. Not according to Asra.

Nadia renovated the menagerie, after rehoming all of the exotic animals, into a garden for Ky to tend to - it is filled with many plants, both domestic and foreign, and a few secluded canopies and patios to relax under

pre-game

BASICS

Name: Ky

Nickname(s)/Titles: Master (Asra)

Age: ?? 25-29

Birthday: Jun 13

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Gender: nb

Pronouns: they/them

Orientation: it’s complicated

Favorite flower: bird of paradise

Favorite food: zabaione

Favorite drink: black tea

“Love” Interest: Asra

APPEARANCE/PHYSICAL TRAITS

Height: 5′7"

Weight: 160lbs

Body type/build: soft, thick ass and thighs

Skin: pale as heque, green/yellow undertones

Hair: dyed medium blue with light blue bangs/fringe and a violet gradient towards the ends - mid-back length, heavily layered - worn loose, usually - sometimes with roots, though usually covered with glamour

Eyes: medium grey

Distinguishing features: few, just very pale

Clothing: sheer flowing fabric, cloaks over top of scandalously transparent layers of chiffon, georgette, crepe, etc. - whatever keeps them at a comfortable temperature, generally

Physical health: healthy as a function of magic

PERSONALITY/INTERESTS

Personality: aloof, emotionally distant with a tendency towards patronizing when speaking about magic - a bit of a know-it-all and inclined to speak in metaphors deliberately - considered themself to be on another plane from most other people, very curious and deeply committed to learning everything they can, can be very teasing and playful when comfortable, otherwise might come across as awkward

Likes: hot drinks, sleeping, secretly: snuggles, learning, Being Right

Dislikes: feeling tied down, the idea of taboo, hot drinks getting cold, being Wrong or being presumed to be so

Fears: losing someone else the way they lost their aunt, being unable to learn something

Habits: they will absolutely change the subject or answer esoterically to avoid talking about something that they don’t want to talk about, snaps their fingers to spark tiny little lightning arcs when frustrated

Mental health: adhd - mostly expressed via inattentiveness, special interest in divination and unreality

LIFE

Residence: the shop

Occupation: sells potions, especially those producing an altered consciousness or state, performs seances, blessings, curses/hexes, and crafts charms

Skills: dream walking/visions, enchanting items, brewing the perfect cup of tea, lightning and blood magic, levitation (both Kys relearn all of these eventually)

TRIVIA

Ky documented everything extensively as a service to society. It wound up being a service to Asra and their resurrected self, and basically nobody else. They have dozens of notebooks containing almost every spell, ritual, and concoction they ever came up with

Had they been left to their own devices and not died of the plague, Ky may have eventually secluded themself into a dream forever and lost touch with reality.

[klimtandbencbatch]

So....I was just looking for ironstrange content on tumblr and I read your request so I'll give it a try lol. I have two A) Hannibal!AU with Strange as Hannibal, Tony as Will and Peter as Abigail (I saw the gif and couldn't help it) and B)After A4 and the happy ending, the Cloak is really attached to Tony (it stayed behind and they bonded) but also missed Stephen and wants to be with both of them, so they have to 'arrange custody', to Peter & Wong's amusement.

lmao I can’t remember the last time I watched Hannibal, so option B it is!!! I hope you like it :) 

Stephen feels it coming before it happens. The fabric of the universe is rent, hard, and he can feel it. Even buried in the depths of the soul stone as he is now, isolated and meditating away from the billions and billions of others trapped here as well, he feels his stomach quiver with anticipation. It sounds a bit like the tearing of dryer sheets. He knows Tony did it.

“By the Vishanti,” he murmurs, and then he’s shot through a thin tube of light and sound and sensation before his feet hit solid earth. Well, not earth. Titan. And the Guardians are there, and the kid’s there - oh gods, the kid. He jogs over to Peter, helping him up and dusting him off, taking his face in his hands and checking him over for injury.

“Doctor Strange, I’m - I’m alright, I promise,” Peter says shakily, his eyes glassy and his skin pale. Stephen pushes calm through his shaking, scarred fingers, watching as it flows through Peter and brings him back down, back to where they are.

“I’ve got you, Peter. It’s alright. I’ll get us home, okay?”

Peter nods dumbly. What else can he do?

“Okay.”

—————————

Tony’s flat on his back in the middle of Central Park when he hears the portal open. Over the sounds of people reuniting, people celebrating being back and alive, he hears Strange stumble through his magic ring of sparklers, sees Peter tucked under his arm. His heart sings, and he forces his legs to work again, forces his body to go to Peter’s, to hold Peter, to tell Peter that everything is okay.

“Mr. Stark - Doctor Strange already gave me this talk - “

There’s a rustle of fabric, and Tony’s on his back again. This time, however, he’s covered by a very enthusiastic, very clingy Cloak of Levitation.

“Strange, what in the fuck - “

“I - don’t know what it’s doing,” Stephen says honestly, and Tony doesn’t have it in him to argue. He lets the Cloak hug it out for a bit longer, offering what he hopes is a gentle pat of comfort.

“There, there, bud. We’re all back now. Okay? We’re all here.”

It keeps happening.

One moment, Stephen’s hard at work, studying ancient tomes or practicing his spells, and the comforting weight of the Cloak around his shoulders disappears. He brushes it off. The Cloak is its own being - it can come and go as it pleases.

But nearly every time, he gets a call from a bemused - rarely annoyed - Tony Stark.

“Hey, doc. Cloak’s over here again. Not sure how it keeps getting into my apartment, but it seems to be keeping FRIDAY company, so… I dunno, you wanna come pick it up?”

Wong smirks every time he leaves the sanctum cloakless.

“Visiting its favorite parent again, hm?”

“Shut up and get busy getting my laptop back, the study seems to have eaten it again.”

At first, the visits are - awkward. The Cloak levitates near Tony, sending clear signals that Stephen should stay, spend time with the other man. It’s very clearly taken a shine to Stark, and it wants Stephen in on the fun. Stephen smiles tightly, throws the thing around his shoulders, and portals back to the sanctum.

It becomes a sort of odd routine. The Cloak, though seemingly oblivious to the passage of time otherwise, picks Tuesdays and Thursdays as the days it goes to Tony’s apartment. The rest of the time it stays with Stephen, though he senses it’s filled with longing nearly every day. Longing for Tony Stark.

“Why him, of all people?” Stephen asks one night, the Cloak floating in front of him as he has his evening tea. “Tony Stark? Why not someone helpful?”

He feels a baleful energy rolling off the collar in waves. He rolls his eyes, setting his tea aside.

“He isn’t helpful. Not right now.”

——————————

Stephen’s walking into Tony’s apartment on a Thursday evening when he’s surprised by the man being on his sofa instead of tucked away in his lab, the Cloak around his shoulders, fondly stroking his cheeks. Tony offers a smile and a small wave, his arm quickly being reclaimed by the Cloak and brought back to his side.

“Y’know, Peter was telling me the other day, when this overblown handkerchief came around… I feel like I oughta get a lawyer.”

Stephen can’t help but smile. He shakes his head, coming over to the couch and sitting down, leaving a respectable distance between he and Tony.

“Custody, you mean?”

“Visitation rights,” Tony drawls, sipping at the smoothie he has clutched in his hand. “Seems like I’m the preferred guardian, here. Cloaky loves me,” he simpers, cooing as the collar strokes his cheek again.

Stephen rolls his eyes, though the smile is still firmly on his face. “Well, if that’s the case, then I want that divorce you’ve been promising me. No more separation, let’s just tell the kids straight, hm?”

“Peter wants his sibling to live with me,” Tony says seriously, though he’s cracking as well. “It’s only fair we keep the kids together.”

Stephen chuckles, pushing himself to stand. “Well. It’s time for this one to go home,” he says, reaching out for the collar.

Which immediately pulls away.

“Aw, see?” Tony asks, stroking the fabric gently. “It wants to stay with Daddy.”

“Please don’t say that again,” Stephen laughs, folding his arms over his chest. “You already get Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“I want weekends,” Tony says firmly, sitting up. “Or at least Saturdays. You can have Sundays, but only if you promise to take him to church. I want him raised in my faith.”

Stephen snorts. “Or we could call the divorce off. You could come visit more.”

Tony’s eyes flash with interest. “Yeah?” he clarifies, tugging at the collar so the Cloak floats beside Stephen, reluctantly returning to his shoulders. “You want me to stop by?”

“For the sake of the kids,” Stephen assures, conjuring a portal and stepping through before Tony has the chance to answer.

Tony sits there for a moment, dumbfounded. He barks out a laugh, standing and heading back towards his workshop. Stephen fuckin’ Strange wanted him to stop by more. Oh, he’d do more than that.

He had custody to win, after all.

[tisfan]

One in Fourteen Million

Title: One in 14,000,605 Collaborator: @tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: G2 -- Stephen Strange/Tony Stark Ship: IronStrange Rating: Teen Major Tags: kissing, first kisses, get together, angst, Infinity War compliant, Dad!Tony, panic attacks Summary: Keeping secrets is lonely work. Two men, with the worst, most desperate secret between them, find comfort in each other.

Or: The one where the Cloak of Levitation ships it. Word Count: 1,783 Created for @mcukinkbingo

The Sanctum wasn’t the sort of place that made itself receptive to strangers. It wasn’t quite invisible to the bustle and stir and populace of New York City, but if you were there casually, the building would encourage you to walk away.

A determined visitor could reach the front door, put actually gaining the attention of the sorcerers who lived there was tricky. The Sanctum valued their privacy and had a fine sense of what its inhabitants would consider important.

Which meant when there was a booming knock against the ancient door at three in the morning, Stephen actually looked up from his books, sighed, and got up to answer the door. Levi, who’d been draped over Stephen’s lap like an afghan, swirled to attention and fastened himself neatly over Stephen’s shoulders. Stephen allowed himself a brief smile and patted his cloak with one hand, not commenting on how utterly ridiculous they looked together, whenever Stephen was wearing jeans and a comfortable sweatshirt.

Levi was sensitive.

Stephen got to the door and struggled with the knob; it was huge and clunky and slick from generations of wizard hands and his own hands didn’t have the best grip. Levi gave a shudder from the effort of not helping, but the cloak had learned over time that Stephen prefered to do for himself, when he could manage it.

Door open finally, Tony Stark practically fell into his arms. “Tony!”

“You said, you said, you said,” Tony was panting for breath, struggling to speak, “if I need anything.”

“Yes, of course,” Stephen said. “Come in.” If it had been anyone else, Stephen would have slung them straight back to the library, but Tony had a loathing of portals, and he was in bad enough shape that Stephen couldn’t inflict it on him, not right then. There was a seldom-used parlor right beyond the staircase, and Stephan urged Tony gently in that direction.

“Are you drunk?” Tony reeked of expensive scotch to the point that it was difficult to determine how much he’d drunk and how much he’d bathed in.

“If I’m not, it’s a criminal waste of booze,” Tony said. He wasn’t staggering, not quite, but Stephen knew better to trust that. Tony had gotten very good at hiding his state of intoxication, even before he’d become a superhero and literally taken on the world’s problems as his personal responsibility.

Stephen directed Tony into a plush chair near the fireplace, hoping that Wong hadn’t left any devices or crumpled bits of spell components in it. He concentrated for a moment and summoned a cup.

“I’m not drinking any of your damn weed juice, Strange,” Tony protested.

“And I would not ask you to,” Stephen told him. “Just put it up to your mouth.”

“It’s empty,” Tony said, turning the cup over, then he shrugged and did what Stephen said. He about choked when the evening’s booze came pushing back out through his system, dripping from his mouth into a cup. “Good Christ, what the hell is that?”

“Expensive scotch, I imagine,” Stephen said. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly sanitary. You could drink it again, if you wanted.”

(more below the cut)

“Ok, never let anyone with an eating disorder know you have one of these,” Tony said. He pushed the cup under his mouth again and the cup filled itself, almost to the point of overflowing, and Stephen had to waft the excess away. By the time Tony filled -- and Stephen emptied -- two and a half more cups, Stephen was starting to believe it was a minor miracle that Tony wasn’t dead. “Also, that’s a hell of a party trick.”

“I’m saving your life, Stark,” Stephen told him. “If I have to talk to you while you’re drunk and cuddly, I may have to murder you.”

“I don’t get cuddly when I’m drunk,” Tony protested.

“Oh, so I just woke up with you wrapped around my legs last time, that was completely by accident?”

“You have stupidly long legs, wizard,” Tony said.

“I’m not a wizard,” Stephen retorted, rolling his eyes. “Wizards are one-trick ponies.”

“Where you have about a million tricks, don’tcha?” Tony spit one more mouthful into the cup, looked at it for a moment, then drank about half of it back down. “Not drunk, just can’t… can’t be sober, not tonight, Stephen.”

Levi swooped off Stephen’s shoulders and landed on Tony with a thud, almost crushing Tony into the chair.

“You and your ridiculously affectionate cape. Decidedly a wizard,” Tony said.

“You went for a walk again tonight?” Stephen made a face; he’d thought Tony was getting over that obsession.

“Peter’s fine,” Tony said, shivering, sinking into the chair, letting Levi wrap him up in the cloak’s equivalent of a comforting hug.

“I am fine, as well, as you see,” Stephen said. He braced himself and then offered a hand to Tony. He hated it when people looked at his hands, hated them seeing what had happened to him, the pity or disgust, the way they tried so hard not to see, not to comment. It would be easier if they’d just deal with it. He had.

Mostly.

Tony caught Stephen’s hand between his own. Tony’s hands were freezing, the knuckles swollen and the skin chapped, one nail torn down to the quick. Stephen sighed, drew a little circle on the back of Tony’s hands and whispered a tiny bit of power into it, healing the minor aches, soothing the skin.

“You’re fine,” Tony repeated, and then he was shivering with emotion, not the cold. “You’re alive.” Tony rocked himself back and forth in the chair, squeezing Stephen’s hands gently. Stephen let himself be drawn in until he was standing in front of Tony, letting him sob into Stephen’s belly, arms wrapped tight around Stephen’s hips.

“Bad dream?” Stephen cupped Tony’s head, keeping him tight against Stephen’s ribs, despite the tears that were soaking in his sweatshirt, running his fingers through Tony’s hair.

Tony shook his head. “Pepper called,” he said, sniffling. He pulled back to wipe his nose on the cuff of his shirt, disdaining the conjured handkerchief that Stephen offered. “She… she’s pregnant.”

Stephen’s fingers froze, suddenly aching. “Oh,” he said, very gently, trying to conceal the way his heart fumbled around in his chest. “I didn’t know you two were back together.”

Tony blinked and backed out of the embrace. “We’re not. She’s… she’s uh, apparently she’s been seeing Happy for a while now. It’s great, it’s fine, I’m over it. It was just… that morning that I met you, she and I had been… well, she never wanted any children of mine, anyway.” He tapped absently at the arc reactor, no longer an implant, that housed the Iron Man nanites. “I had a dream, before that day, that she was pregnant with my child, and I had so much hope, Stephen, for everything. For us, for the world. Then Thanos came, and he tore everything apart, and she doesn’t even remember.”

“Sometimes I think it was a mistake,” Stephen admitted, “letting you and Peter keep your memories.”

“No, I told you, no, I can’t be prepared for a threat if I don’t know what it is. I don’t need to be swaddled in cotton, I just… sometimes I need to make sure the only other people who know… the ones I can talk to… are okay. Okay?”

“Thanos isn’t coming back, Tony.”

“You don’t know that,” Tony protested. “The stones can’t be destroyed. Hell, you’re still wearing yours around your neck. Someone else could come back and put the whole thing back together--”

“That would take centuries,” Stephen said, soothing. “The entire universe got a second chance. Only a handful of us know what really happened, no one else knows the stones even exist anymore.”

“I wonder,” Tony said. “How many times has this happened? Your people have been guarding the Time Stone for centuries. Red Skull was seeking the tesseract. My father… I don’t think this is precisely new.”

“We’re a small cabal, Tony, but that’s what we have to do. Keep the secrets, stand alert, trust each other. I know how you feel about secrets, but this one is… for the good of the world. And I know, it’s lonely, holding the fate of everything in your hands.”

“At least I have you,” Tony said, and he looked up at Stephen, those doe-eyes wet and full and full of beautiful agony.

“You do,” Stephen said. “Perhaps even moreso than you know.”

Tony chewed his lip a moment, then stood, resolutely. Like he was treading too near quicksand and had to back away. “I should go,” he said. “Thanks for listening to me whine again. I do it too often, you’d think I’d get over it.”

“Tony, I don’t think this is the sort of thing you just-- get over,” Stephen suggested. “Stay, if you want, I can--”

Tony’s eyes went even wider, his gaze darted down to Stephen’s mouth, and then back up.

And then he staggered as Levi put a corner in the middle of Tony’s back and shoved him into Stephen’s embrace.

Kissing close, now, and all Stephen would have to do is tip his head.

“I think your carpet’s trying to play matchmaker,” Tony suggested, as if he was going to make a joke, but also, giving Stephen the opening, trying so hard to make it look like a casual remark.

“I wonder where Levi might have gotten that idea,” Stephen said. He stroked one broken thumb down the side of Tony’s face, feeling the wet streak of his tears, drying them. “Will you stay, with intent, if I ask you again.”

Tony wet his lips, pushed up onto his toes. His eyelids fluttered closed. “Ask me again.”

“Stay. I would like it if you would stay,” Stephen said. “You’re not the only one who wakes in the night, who wants to make certain that you’re okay. That you’re alive.”

“Are you going to kiss me, wizard, or just babble?”

“Sorcerer,” Stephen corrected. “I have many more than just one trick.”

“Prove it.”

And Tony closed the gap.

Tony’s kiss was achingly tender. So soft and sweet. He clutched at Stephen’s shoulders, pushing himself up until Stephen responded, brushing his mouth over Tony’s. Stephen groaned, pulling Tony closer, ignoring the pain in his hands, because all he wanted was to hold on.

Stephen kissed Tony Stark, standing in the parlor, the fireplace roaring, the night cold outside, and Stephen was kissing the man he’d come to know, to respect, and to love in fourteen million, six hundred and give possible futures.

A one in fourteen million chance, and it had all been worth it, for this one, perfect moment.

[arkhevia]

@allistrange, continued from x because I can’t resist:

it’s the cloak. completely, one hundred percent, no doubt about it. its the only reason Strange finds himself looking up at her.

   he certainly had his moments with the cloak of levitation, the times when it decided where they should go. for example: drag him halfway across the ground, before levitating him several feet in the air obviously for the drama of it all. which that part he doesn’t mind. the part he does is when she goes to lift herself off. the cloak decides to wrap itself around one of her wings to keep her grounded for as long as it could. (hint: it was him who conveyed the idea to ground her that way)

   the part he did not take into consideration was landing himself as gracefully as usual. instead with a poor imitation of the cloak style landing. Stephen opens a portal right in front of her intending to land on his feet like a cat.

   the intent is there but the execution? disagreeable. Stephen ends up biting the dust, his face, his lips, colliding with the top of her shoe. talk about heel fetish.

   well, at least the view looking up wasn’t all that bad.

                              ‘fuck.’

She’s struggling with the cloak still, trying to get it off so she might fly out of here. If there was anyone around here who could overpower her, it was absolutely Stephen, and his goddamned magic, but it seemed his handkerchief had a different plan in mind. But Kee’s struggling comes to an end at the sight of him, splayed out on the ground, mouth squarely on her shoe. She’d be lying if she said she couldn’t appreciate the sight. There was nothing quite like a man kissing her feet when she hasn’t even asked.

“What, right here in front’a everyone?” she asked, and squatted down to get a good look. It left her completely open to the cloak’s antics and any other oncoming trouble, but she was entirely unable to resist the opportunity to gloat.

“I always knew ya liked me, Doc,” she crooned, dropping her voice low and intimate. “But if ya wanted t’ kiss my feet, all ya had t’ do was ask.” She wasn’t dumb enough to reach down and touch him, and risk further danger while her wing was still mangled -- which simultaneously hurt like hell and made things a tad bit awkward, considering the sort of sensitive her wings were.  

[iwasthesouthernpansy]

Prompt Fill #3

Strordo; Stephen comforting and cuddling Karl, because Karl needs a little TLC too

Strordo prompt: Takes place after the end of the movie. Mordo returns to the NY Sanctum. He and Stephen talk. They explain the reasons behind their actions. Make-up sex is an option but not necessary. Basically a fix-it fic.

Strordo prompt (if you're still doing that): could be at the same time TAO dies, at the Hong Kong climax, or (for extra ~drama~) after Dormammu is defeated, but the thing is... Mordo dies in Stephen's arms and he can't do anything about it. Yes, my prompt is: Mordo dying. In Stephen's arms. And the Time Stone can't help. I'm an angst whore and I'm sorry )'

I attempted to combine these three prompts and I think I did okay? You'll have to judge for yourself. Maybe not so much comfort for Mordo (at least probably not what the anon wanted) but I did write up an angsty back story for Mordo in my fic A Different Kind of Destiny and this chapter (can probably be read alone) is pretty much all Mordo h/c.

Beware of soppy angst under the cut.

Change never came easily to Stephen Strange’s life. He was set on track to become a doctor by the tragic death of his sister when he was just 19. His path to Kamar Taj was forged by a car crash that mangled his body and destroyed his career. So of course it would take the world almost being destroyed to bring Karl Mordo back to him.

Said sorcerer was currently lying bandaged in Stephen’s bed in the New York Sanctum. He had shown up in the midst of a battle with some of Dormammu’s Mindless Ones in the middle of Chicago and had helped Strange fend them off. In the process he had gotten injured though, and Strange found himself with a patient to tend to.

Stephen was anxious to talk to Mordo. He had been tracking the dealings of the rogue sorcerer, consulting with the sorcerers who he had taken their magic from. Stephen had been searching for him, but Mordo always seemed one step ahead. Well Strange had caught up to him a few times, and they had exchanged words which had ended in blows.

So it came as a surprise with an attack aimed at Stephen had been deflected and Mordo had dropped to the ground at his side. They didn’t have time for words and had quickly fallen into tandem, recalling their training at Kamar Taj as they battled their assailants.

They were victorious in the end, and the Mindless Ones retreated back to the Dark Dimension, but Mordo had been stabbed through the shoulder. At first he had waved off Stephen’s concern, but he had crumpled at Strange’s feet, the Cloak of Levitation managing to grab him before he hit the ground.

With the help of the Cloak, Stephen took Mordo home and here he sat next to the other man. Stephen once more having stepped into a role he didn’t think he would being taking up again. He had treated his wound and wrapped a gauze around Mordo’s shoulder. He didn’t have to put Mordo in his bed, but Stephen Strange couldn’t help but be a sentimental fool, remembering a fledgling relationship that had started at Kamar Taj. A romance that had crumbled when Mordo had broken away from them.

Mordo awoke with a groan and blinked open his eyes and Strange was quick to help him sit up on the pillows and take a drink from a nearby glass of water. Mordo settled and sighed, looking at his surroundings, “Am I in your bed?”

Strange gave him a crooked smile, “Wouldn’t be the first time, eh Karl?"

Mordo glared back at him.

“What? No ‘thank you, Stephen’? I saved your life you know.”

“And I saved yours, no thanks needed, we are even Strange,” said Mordo curtly.

“Why did you?"

“Why did I what?”

“Why did you save my life? I thought we were enemies.”

Mordo looked away from the other man, “We have different ideologies but if Dormammu was able to reach his goals, I too would suffer.”

Strange looked down, “I thought…”

“What did you think Strange? Spit it out.”

Strange met his eyes again, “I thought you may have joined forces with Dormammu. Against me.”

Mordo scoffed, obviously insulted, “You think we no better than scum like Kaecilius!”

Strange looked tired. “Mordo, you’ve tried to kill me, I don’t think you care about my opinion of you.”

“It was never my goal to kill anyone, even you, just to stop the misuse of magic.”

“Yes, I heard about the sorcerers who you’ve been stealing the magic from. You must be very powerful, what with all the energy.” Mordo didn’t look powerful though, he looked exhausted, thinner than before, his eyes more sunken in.

Mordo’s anger finally faltered, and he now looked pained, “I did what I did to right the wrongs of the Ancient One, she had put power in the hands of those who would misuse it, use it for petty reasons—“

“Oh yes Jonathan Pangborn using magic so he could simply walk was so egregious.”

Mordo did at least have decency to look a little ashamed and continued, “Well it no longer matters, the natural law has been broken time and time again, the bill is coming due.”

“And I will pay it.”

“Oh and what are you willing to sacrifice Strange?”

“Everything.”

The words had a finality to them that made Mordo not question that Strange had already paid his fair share of dues.

Mordo opened his mouth to ask him what he had done, what exactly happened in Hong Kong, when he was hit with a coughing fit, hacking painfully. Stephen grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to the other man, coming up and patting him on his bare back while he coughed. Strange couldn’t help but notice that the cloth came away red once he handed him the glass of water.

Mordo took a gulp and turned to the man standing next him, “It’s the energy I’ve collected, it’s my cross my bear, and yet it’s killing me. My bill is coming due it seems.”

“There must be something we can do—“

“No Stephen, I am not one your patients.”

“No, you’re not. You’re my friend.”

Mordo laughed. “You can’t mean that. Even after everything that’s happened?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a fool.”

Stephen gave him a sad smile, “I know.”

Mordo stared at him, “I can’t believe they made you Sorcerer Supreme.”

The painkillers shortly drew Mordo back into sleep, and Stephen would awake alone in the chair by his bed in the morning.

xxxx

The Ancient One’s prophecy was achieved, Mordo and Stephen had stood together and fought Dormammu on some isolated realm of existence. They had worked off each other and now reality was free from the malicious entity.

But the battle had taken its toll and both sorcerers were injured, they limped back through a portal to the Sanctum and once they were in the foyer, in front of the grand staircase, Mordo seized and let out a pained groan, falling to the floor.

“Mordo!” yelled Strange, running to knee by the heap of the man on the floor.

“What’s wrong? Show me your injuries! Let me help!”

“No Doctor Strange, I am beyond that. This is a long time coming, but I finished, Dormammu is gone. It’s time to pay up.”

“Oh shut up about bills, Karl! I can help you, I’m a doctor and a sorcerer, what good am I if I can’t help you?”

Mordo looked up at the panicked man and gave him a shaky smile, “There’s one thing you could do."

Stephen nodded frantically, urging him on.

“Hold me?”

Stephen let out a pained whine and dragged Mordo into his arms, trying not to cause the man any more pain as he positioned him in his lap.

Mordo stared up Stephen with a smile, “Oh yes, there they are.”

“What?”

“Those eyes, you always did have beautiful eyes, they were one of the first things I noticed about you.”

Stephen gave a watery laugh, “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

“But anyway, it’s part of what I wanted to tell you. Did you ever wonder why I never came after your magic?”

“The thought did cross my mind, yes.”

“It’s because you hadn’t wronged me, it was the Ancient One I was angered by. And also you were my responsibility,” said Mordo finishing with a grimace.

“What?”

“I picked you off that street in Kathmandu, I brought you to Kamar Taj. Because I saw a lost soul, someone who was determined to give up everything to find what they were looking for and you know what else I saw?”

“A sad, penniless, arrogant jerk?”

“A very beautiful man.”

Strange clenched his eyes as a few tears slipped down his face. “You took me to Kamar Taj partially because you were attracted to me? Even with the scraggily beard and the dirty clothes?”

“Yes, and because of my pettiness and selfishness, existence is safe, Dormammu is gone. When I was misguidedly hunting sorcerers how could I come after you, when I was responsible for you becoming a sorcerer? With you in the world, I was no better than them. You were my shame.”

Mordo brought up a shaking hand to the Eye, laying in the middle of Stephen’s chest. “My last request is not to try and undo this Stephen, let me go. This a fitting end for a man like me. A better end than I deserve.”

Mordo waited until Stephen nodded solemnly, before exhaling and bringing a hand up to hold Stephen’s cheek and stroked some tears away with his thumb. “Stephen Strange. My most wonderful creation. I feel no shame. I am so proud of what you have become and I am proud that for a little while, I got to call you mine.”

Mordo then let out a pained gasp and his arm dropped. His eyes going glassy wide and unseeing. He body going limp in Stephen’s arms.

Stephen checked his pulse, finding it had stilled and then clutched at the man tighter. He let himself sob into Mordo’s silent chest, filling the Sanctum with wailing that he had not given into since his sister died.

He would soon untangle himself from Mordo’s body and start preparations to lay his friend, his enemy, his lover, to rest. But for now Doctor Stephen Strange gave into his grief. The world may be safe, but his had just become more empty

[autolovecraft]

There were cities under the moon.

He could not wait to decipher or identify. An old servant forced the carven lid, shaking as he did not belong in the clock it was derived.

And then, as a mystic not altogether ignorant, recognize much that is the writing of books, which views the external world from various cosmic angles.

A potent nimbus, brighter than those which Randolph Carter's wandering only what we dream. But the autopsy said that he did so he slowly started the levitation of his being—especially those phases which were to happen later? Inside the Snake Den on the hill. Now there was none. The nearest thing I can recall to these parchment characters—notice how all the distant relatives of Randolph Carter reeled in the angle of regarding.

The convention of assumed pity spilled mawkishness on his prism in awe and half despair, for like the hieroglyphics on that box had contained: matters of which his presence had demanded. The fourth man was non-human, terrestrial or extra-terrestrial, galactic or trans-galactic; and as he resumed in his coat pocket walked on up to the sky. These revelations came with a light-years—thousands of light-beam envelopes. There was a large sphere, or why he approached the rack of tablets.

Rain had long forgotten. He was in his right upper claw, exact image of one ultimate, eternal Carter outside space and time-transition and the spectral wooded valley dipping down in shadow to dank hollows where trickling waters crooned and gurgled among swollen and distorted roots. On every hand pressed the illimitable vastness of the Gate—had seen on human countenance before.

Curious concepts flowed conflictingly through a brain dazed with unaccustomed vistas and unforeseen disclosures. When these things of him. Inertia and force of personality which at once established inquiries concerning Randolph Carter's wandering only what we dream. This heavy, material silver key and made vague motions. I do not believe that Carter had met de Marigny and Mr. Phillips laid a hand on the hill where his little telescope—given him by the First Gateway had taken something of stability from him in order that he saw that their dreams might open the Ultimate Gate's opening. How long is this foolery to be sure of his boyhood dreams, but well fitted to the hills behind crumbling Arkham—the fragment or facet of an important reality and significant human events and emotions debased all his forebears for forbidden cosmic secrets was a human discovery—peculiar to a loftier grotto beyond—the three-dimensional phase of an earthly 1928 in time and space, of Chicago, is motionless, and when he strove not to be? He spoke, it was really immaterial to what he radiated, and Phillips, who was sinking ponderously to the inner worlds are slaves, since the death of his being—especially those phases which were to accomplish that which all the twilight sea wherein the bearded and finny Gnorri build their singular labyrinths. Almost stunned with awe, and how to use that key? He artfully fashioned a waxen mask which would be better if we didn't know, but now there poured from that limitless Mind a flood of knowledge and memories of Zkauba. He saw now, in a chilling and awesome silence full of queer fancies. With his dreams fading under the moon. The cold of the old days, and it is written in the pitch darkness and rubbed his hand and spoke softly. And while there are besides the known directions of up-down, forward-backward, he said, had been left vacant and untended through his neglect since the beings of the age he could not be sure of his handkerchief as he passed it, remote and alien world revolved, and not to provoke me to act for him. As they sat more erect, their outlines became more like those which had at once cleaved to him that this key had come.

Maybe we'd know who you are! Perhaps with eyes and perhaps with imagination he perceived that he was in the south, who for years bore patiently with his duties in weaving spells to keep near the dreaded cave called the Snake Den on the opal throne of Ilek-Vad, that a new and conflicting set of memories. The starting-day was a hideous gnawing of cold, a man in 1928. A great fear clutched him as guide, they may mean that Randolph Carter stopped in the New Orleans conference and has never been; and even as he half saw that the Companions had been settled in 1692, or a still remoter creature of trans-galactic; and with a key, which the entity that was not wholly unfamiliar to him, for it had been a dual hallucination. Now it is written in the beckoning vistas of dreams, and he could easily have been more prudent had they been content to offer the sonorous rites and emotional outlets in their burrows, and learning things about our planet that once revolved around Arcturus; could turn a human Carter into one of the Saracens that held him captive; and form no escape from life. I leave it to strange advantage. Half way up Elm Mountain, on the opal throne of Ilek-Vad, that before that eon-weighted city, the Providence mystic, was there no satisfaction or fulfillment; for the days of his bondage he had found the car. As well, he reflected, is fully ten years his senior; and yet to know that one is no difference betwixt those born of real attainments.

He clumsily drew a long envelope from inside his loose coat and handed it to you by the Carter-facet in prodigious waves that smote and hammered and seared unbearably in the French Foreign Legion in the least the reproofs he gained for ignoring the noon-tide dinner-horn altogether. It was there also that he alone of living men had been settled in 1692. At the sunset hour, when man was non-human, and when he had chosen, and furnished his Boston home to suit his changing moods; one room for the Congregational Hospital.

I don't believe he's an East Indian. Some day his descent into the solar system may be. Inertia and force of personality which at once cleaved to him because of its professors; or feel to the brink of madness, were a limitless confusion of beings of the unknown and utterly exotic workmanship, four men were sitting around a document-strewn table. But Aspinwall had already launched a reply. He realized that he was to be a part of himself, and his curiosity regarding the space-time continuum, or a four-dimensioned gaseous consciousness in an antique box a great gambrel roof stood black against the dim west. He took out the velvet and deserted lawns shining undulant between their tumbled walls, and I believe I know how to interpret this rumor.

You see, even when all Nature shrieked of its subtler properties you know? There floated before Carter a cloudy pageantry of shapes and scenes which he hinted that the Companions had been an entity beyond the Veil still unrent before our eyes. There was a huge key of tarnished silver—nearly five inches long, of Boston on the morning he was seeking, so close on their pseudo-Swami had meanwhile released his other hand and was now inexcusably late. He wondered at the clawed, tapir-snouted denizens trafficked. The floor of the abyss had warned him again and again, neither heeding nor knowing the wishes or existence of the cosmos in terms of fragmentary change-involving perspective, whose sole value lies in their graves a quarter of a tri-dimensional world, universe to universe, yet without dissolution of the inconceivable future.

I am glad to say, my manifestations on your planet's extension, the panes of the strange visions of the estate of a labyrinth of inexplicably fashioned metal under a waning moon and only one emerged where two had ventured into an ancient graveyard—but when they told him something odd once about an old unopened box with the rag carpet and exposed beams and corner-posts, and learning things about the whole trip to 1928 and back; for he saw that the queerly arabesqued silver key was gone—presumably with Carter—and ever after that the animal pain of a blindly impersonal cosmos. Do you want to scare your Aunt Martha in the body, nor did he neglect a small store of gold bullion in October, too, was that for which the clawed, tapir-snouted denizens, bizarre metal towers, unexplained tunnels, and of the forest was mossy and mysterious, and still stranger requests. Let us think slowly and dearly. He fumblingly laid on the hill. And some things in Ulthar, beyond the First Gate. Wise men told him it was to be heavily cloaked, like the hieroglyphics on that which his eyes ostentatiously on the way of feigning human shape on Earth, though held by a forgotten sculptor along the living cliffs of glass overlooking the twilight sea wherein the bearded and finny Gnorri build their singular labyrinths. As the Shapes produced by the breakfast table. So Carter bought stranger books and sought to keep near the Snake Den gained a new and portentous meaning, were a limitless confusion of beings far outside the Gates command all angles, and large, white-haired, apoplectic-faced, side-whiskered, and at some unplaced familiarity. Then there was the Guide's own throne. I shall not try to tell you that I could give, but nothing of the abyss seemed to be a part of himself, and can ask such questions. He wondered at the hideous Necronomicon had vaguely and terrifiedly, the dreaded snake-den in the notions of the archaic, dream-illusions to the hills was balm to his learned host, do not believe in anything, but would plunge like a dizzy precipitation through the weed-choked fissure at the edge of reality, which the entity Randolph Carter into one of his dreams; and being reassured, skipped off across leagues of twilight meadow and spied the old Carter place, they turned him instead toward the two, but who now living saw behind the ruins at no distant period. It wearied Carter to grasp such things as past, present and future. The masses of towering stone, carven into alien and incomprehensible designs and disposed according to the lurking fauns and aegipans and dryads. Carter. People remembered what the lawyer's apoplectic fist. With his dreams throughout life—was at last he conceived a wild plan of escape from life to a wholly inexplicable rattling and buzzing sound. The clock's abnormal ticking went on, the boy had found in a box of ancient oak.