AnasAbdin
Xuebing Du
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Kaledo Art
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
occasionally subtle
Claire Keane
⁂
RMH
Sade Olutola
pixel skylines
JBB: An Artblog!
titsay
ojovivo
shark vs the universe
No title available
we're not kids anymore.
NASA
noise dept.
No title available
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Belgium
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
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@doctorstrangerp
Rules
I'm 25+ I don't rp gore, smut or anything inappropriate with anyone under 20 years old. Please no god-modding, this is a lgbt+ safe zone, I accept ocs.
My muses (specify which one you want to rp with)
Stephen Strange, Sinister Strange
Threads:
Wanda - @chaosxtheoryy (3)
Desi - @desi-steampunk-redpanda (1)
Elysia - @ocsbyhadelle (1)
Beauty - @sobeautifullyobsessed (1)
Layla - @ravencatroleplay (1)
Christine - @paging-dr-palmer (1)
@sxbaist
i don't know if you're updated it but i just wanted to wish you doctor a Happy Birthday!!!!!!! from the bottom of my heart and thank you for everything you done! and to all the Variants if they're here, have some sliced cakes for you!!
Thanks for remembering. I hope you have a great day.
Touch Starved Meme
My muse is touch starved, send one for your muse to-
❤️ - Hug my muse from behind 👏 - Ruffle my muse’s hair ✋️ - Hold my muse’s hand 💪 - Pick my muse up 👆- playfully poke my muse ✍️ - Write something on my muse 💋 - Kiss my muse on the cheek 😏 - Playfully headbutt my muse 😝 - Lick my muse 😙 - Cover my muse in multiple kisses 🖐 - Give my muse a backrub 💤 - Cuddle up to my muse 😶 - Quietly lean against my muse 👃- Boop my muse on the nose ✊️- Playfully punch my muse 🙌 - Playfully shove my muse 😖 - Bury their face in my muse’s chest
Beauty lay in a deep, unnatural sleep, far from the reality of her waking world. A sleep that was the product of dark enchantment, conjured by a dark, unnatural version of the man she loved. She was lost in a dream, wrapped up in a darkness so thick that, try as her dream self might, she could not open her eyes.
“I’m here for you, precious,” he whispered in her ear—and somehow, directly into her brain and her solar plexus. “I’m going to take care of you…my precious one…” His familiar voice felt slightly off as it dragged out that new endearment. Not one that Stephen had ever uttered before--but one that was filled with a possessiveness which…oh, what is this, she was thinking; how is this turning me on...
His cool hand snaked up from her waist to cup her breast, blackened fingertips stroking her areola, prickling her skin as it raised her nipple to a tight, hard peak. Beauty moaned without meaning to, and he huffed a satisfied laugh. “That’s right, my sweet…give into that feeling. That’s how you can warm me. Give me breath. Give me the life I’ve been craving.”
She shivered and gasped her surprise, as the cold skin of his torso pressed against her bare back. “You’re so cold, Stephen…how…how are you so cold…” she panted. The voice of reason whispered from its seat at the back of her mind- because it’s not him.
Now she felt cool lips brush her ear and capture her earlobe, sucking it gently before he spoke again, repeating, “I am here for you, precious. Give me your warmth…your sighs…” He tweaked her nipple and she moaned again. “Your moans, just like that one. It’s been unmeasured, unmarked time that I’ve waited to take them unto myself.” It felt to her as though the skin of his chest had grown warmer. “I’ll take care of you, precious—in the way you’re too shy to ask him to do—in exchange for these things.”
“Stephen…” she moaned, and her dark lover left off from fondling her, splaying his hand upon her belly. His strong fingers—stained black halfway down to the first knuckle—stretched to her hip while he ran the side of his thumb across her navel. Beauty shivered again, though not from the cold that haunted his skin. With desire and need.
“There now, my sweet little bird. I know exactly what you need.”
This isn’t right…this isn’t right…this isn’t RIGHT, her mind chanted—yet still she moaned for him, beginning to slowly roll her hips.
“You make me strong…and warm…and real, my sweet. Your love for him betrays you, your confusion feeds me well.” He’d slid his hand down, resting the heel upon her naked mound. Her whole body flushed, and she understood that he had willed it so, and was absorbing her heat. “Spread your legs now, my pretty, precious girl. I need a taste of you…now…” he commanded. And though her reason still balked, the power of his dark velvet persuasion coupled with the enchantment he had bound her with, compelled her to obey. “I’m going to take such good care of you…”
Beauty turned onto her back, a figure of ice and darkness coalescing to hover above her as his slowly warming hands reached down to part her legs…
(( It's awesome writing, but you're writing both characters, so I don't know if this is supposed to be a chapter, an one shot, I don't know how I should reply. ))
@sobeautifullyobsessed
❝ there’s quite a lot about me you don’t know. ❞
And there's quite a lot about ME you don't know. You always talk through riddles, you're so indirect. What's your point? What do you want to tell me? Just...say it. I want to understand you.
@sxbaist
Thought-Provoking Headcanon Meme
Send a symbol and I’ll answer the question about my muse. (Or answer in character. Whatever works for you!)
⛔️ - How does your muse react to others breaking the law? If they would do it themselves, what is their reasoning? 🚑 - If your muse was the only person around and someone was injured, would they help? Would they have the experience needed? 💸 - What does your muse think of wealthy people? Do they resent them, or do they believe they earned what they have? 🆘 - What does your muse think of poor people? Do they think they’re a waste of space, or do they want to help them? 📩 - Does your muse prefer to physically write letters or send them online? What is their reasoning? 📢 - Does your muse have a loud personality or a quiet one? Do they enjoy being the center of attention, or would they rather watch and listen? 📊 - How does your muse feel about the state of the world? Could it be better? Could it be worse? 👨 - What is your muse’s relationship like with their father? Is it good, bad, or complicated? 👩 - What is your muse’s relationship like with their mother? Is it good, bad, or complicated? 👧 - What is your muse’s relationship like with their siblings? Who do they get along with best? 👶 - If they have any, what is your muse’s relationship like with their children? Do they feel like they’re a good parent? 👻 - Does your muse believe in an afterlife? What do they think it’s like? ⏰ - Does your muse feel like they need to do things quickly or do they take their time? ⌛️ - How often does your muse think about death? Do they think about it at all? 🔗 - What are your muse’s standards for meaningful relationships? How quickly do they form relationships like these? 🚹 - How would your muse react to losing their father? How would they cope? 🚺 - How would your muse react to losing their mother? How would they cope? 🚼 - How would your muse react to losing a child? How would they cope? 💧 - How would your muse react to losing a best friend? How would they cope? 💔 - How would your muse react to losing a romantic partner? How would they cope? 🐜 - How does your muse feel about animal lives? Do they treat them the same way they’d treat a person, or do they feel they’re inferior? 🌎 - Does your muse want to change the world? How would they go about it? 🎭 - How does your muse handle their emotions? Do they bottle them up or pour them out as soon as they start to feel? 💋 - How does your muse feel about people who cheat? Do they see a reason for it, or is it completely immoral? 🌠 - Would your muse make a wish on a star? If so, what would they wish for? 🎁 - Does your muse celebrate their birthday? If yes, how do they celebrate? If no, why not? 🍟 - How does your muse feel about their body? Would they change it if they could? 💅 - How does your muse feel about gender roles? Do they conform to them, or do they play by their own rules? 🌺 - Does your muse have a favorite flower? Why do they like it?
🌺 Send this to ten blogs you think are wonderful. 🌺
Open Starter - post DSMOM
People were correct that your life could completely turn around with the flip of a switch... or a snap of a finger, more or less. After returning from the ashes, somehow it was a shock to realise that the seasons were still changing and the world was taking its course regardless of whether you had been there to witness it or not. A proof was the blur of orange, red and yellow leaves whirling in the air outside the enormous windows of the library in the Sanctum Santorum.
The absence of the sorcerer was an opportunity for Wanda to be alone with her thoughts and a black leather journal. As she scribbled down, bathing in the golden sunlight, she came to realise how surprised her loved ones would be, were they able to see her drastic turn of life events. How shocked and possibly annoyed Pietro would be by Strange had he met him.
"He's not too bad, but you might be displeased with him at times," Wanda wrote down as she wondered what it would be like to share the news with her twin in person. A bittersweet fantasy. "I'm certain you would've quickly befriended America, however. She's sweet and fierce, you would've liked her."
The lower the pen moved along the page, the messier the handwriting became. Pietro was not coming back, and the Sanctum was still empty as ever. A single tear joined the inked paper.
doctorstrangerp
Lighthearted. If Wanda used a single word to describe Strange, she would pick that one. Perhaps not his outward form, but the man underneath; the man he was within the walls of the Sanctum. How he managed to joke, to find it in himself to smile even after the horrors he had seen, she couldn't process.
His path had been planted with regret and remorse as he had lost his family, his career and his lover due to a cruel series of circumstances. Wanda had decided not to pry further, much less use telepathy - which she hadn't done since joining the Avengers, in hopes of earning his trust and letting him reveal more on his own terms.
Yet she failed to understand how despite being an additional cause of his suffering, she was given another chance by him. A second one she wasn't intending to waste.
The Sanctum was becoming a residence of her very own, Wanda could see Strange's attempts of making it so. She was set on expressing her gratitude via fierce protection of the place, casting her own runes all over it and doubling the security.
"Right. I keep forgetting you travel through timezones for free," she laughed when she saw him smirk, the outer corners of his eyes and mouth wrinkling slightly. It was a rare sight, but one she could easily get used to. He was usually his happiest after spending time with the Sorcerer Supreme or the multiverse traveler. And that's why Wanda felt inclined to ask.
"Kamar Taj seems to be holding up way better now," she began, twirling one of her silver rings. "... how are Wong and America doing? She brings out the best in you, doesn't she?"
"I can drag you to different timezones if you want...so you'll get the 'time and space are one and the same' idea."
He smiled.
"Kamar Taj is slowly returning to normal."
Stephen didn't say much about it. He would make a joke about sorcerers being stronger now by lifting rocks and some more wanting to learn telekinesis...but the memory of some of his friends dead under those rocks hit him too hard.
"Wong and America mean the world to me."
He said, his voice more honest and serious...tender and warm.
"They're my family. They make me feel better than...my previous...actual family used to. I belong...wherever they are."
Strange started opening the bags, taking the groceries with his shaky hands- they were tired.
"America and Wong do make me want to be better. The best version I can be...for them. We all lost...we all...felt so lonely...and so much pain, I know...but we have each other now. We don't have to face things alone."
His stiff posture and steady tone of voice was eloquent in letting Wanda know she had stricken a cord with her question, and regret immediately washed over her. She owed it to him and herself, however, to show her care and remorse, to show that she wasn't indifferent to the consequences of her own actions.
"I'm truly glad to hear this. I just... I cannot possibly apologize enough."
Warmth spread through her at the tenderness with which Strange was talking about his dearest people, but it dissipated as soon as he mentioned his family. It was rare when he'd do that, and Wanda could only read between the lines, not wishing to invade the privacy of his mind. It didn't take telepathy to realise his childhood wasn't bright.
"What matters is that you're not alone in facing the things you're going through, whatever they might be. Wong and America truly love you. And maybe meeting them was fate's way of erasing loneliness for the three of you."
Upon glancing at his trembling hands, Wanda instinctively reached out and gently snatched the items from his grasp before placing them on the kitchen counter. Her telepathy involuntarily sensed the shock waves of pain.
As she started arranging the groceries in the fridge and the cupboards, she said, "As long as you have a witch in the house, you won't need to do these things by yourself."
"You already apologized. And it wasn't entirely your fault. I fought a variant of myself that was absolutely wicked...he did...things that are...way way worse."
He looked down.
"So...how could I just...judge you?"
Stephen's hands would shake more as he used them, and even more when he was emotionally unwell. He was surprised and glad when Wanda took the objects from him.
"Thanks. My hands are acting up today. I should take some meds." He sighed.
Her words were so...so warm. He felt so much better.
"I guess...maybe it aas fate being a bit kind. Bringing us together." Strange said. "You also don't have to be alone."
The sorcerer said, smiling a bit again.
Aw her comment. Wanda was so sweet...
"Let's finish this quickly, I want to enjoy my day off..."
"A variant of yourself, you say?" Wanda inquired, more curious rather than disturbed by what Stephen had said. "Knowing you, I'm aware you don't usually let things get to you easily, so in order for him to go nuts and lose his morals, something brutal has happened, hasn't it? Something that has to do with what he values most. I believe he needs to be understood just like you did with me."
The moment Strange mentioned the ache in his hands, his medication materialised on the table with a simple flick of Wanda's wrist. She hated seeing him in pain, and further, being in distress because of it.
And just like that with another flick, the groceries took their respective places in the fridge and the cupboards, doors shutting at once.
"All set. How would you like to spend your night off, Stephen? Does a movie sound good?" Wanda then added, knowing he was in pain. "Or do you just want to rest?... I might help relieve some of the discomfort in your hands, if you'd let me."
"He..."
Stephen took a deep breath. Should he tell her? Well, he had started...better finish.
"I believe he used the Darkhold and caused incursions by accident. And then his reality collapsed, everyone but him survived apparently and he tried to...get Christine."
His voice started to get shaky as he described.
"He wanted her...he was insane...obcessed...he used that book to...mass murder...other variants of myself...and cause incursions."
Strange's eyes got teary, his breath was rigid.
"I...- things get to me more easily than you think."
He said, his shaky hand taking the meds Wanda had summoned with her power.
"He can't be understood anymore because....well...because...I killed him."
Stephen raised his eyebrows, like an indifferent narrrator with an untruthful tone of surprise as he opened the pack and took a couple of pills.
"Since you fininished all the work, let's watch a movie. No way I'm sleeping without watching something fun."
Talking about Sinister shook his core. So scary...sadistic...evil...
"Uh? You can...ease pain? With powers? Or you mean...with hot water or something?"
*a single white feather appears to float in midair by the window of the sanctum, just out of reach. When you touch it, it slowly blackens and disintegrates to ash in your hands*
.....what...? *panting a bit due to the wounds and intensive dark magic usage*
*a calming voice that echoes as though coming from a large, empty chamber speaks, though no one is yet visible* Stephen Strange... Your mortal suffering is at an end.
Sinister shivered at the echo.
Was that real? That voice? It was so beautiful, yet, it forged fear inside him.
"What..." Sinister whispered, his eyes searching but finding nothing.
With one hand against his stomach, resisting the pain, he slowly limped back, eyes narrowed attempting to find at least a target.
He opened his third eye trying to sense any other sign, but nothing.
Was that...his time to die? He didn't want to. He still had hopes of escaping that reality.
Gradually, the room seemed to fill with a warm glow, like soft sunlight. I have watched you, suffering alone in this forsaken place. You have been on the edge of death for days, yet you choose to cling with all you have left in you to the tortured mortal husk that imprisons you. Why do you linger here? Are you not in pain?
Sinister stared that odd presence.
Warmth. Since when had him felt such warmth?
"Shut up..."
It was all he thought.
Of course he had been suffering. Of course he wanted to survive, escape that place, live.
Why did he linger there? Pfft. He still had faith he could get out and heal...and....
His eyes were so heavy....
For a moment, the light grew brighter, enough that it would have hurt the eyes of the viewer like direct sunlight. After a moment, it faded a bit, the shape of a person seeming to materialize within it. Well, not quite a flesh and bone person, but one seemingly made of light. A woman, nearly 10 feet tall, with shining white wings and a flowing airy gown. Her face was kind, but almost unnaturally still, as though it were sculpted from marble. "Hmm, that's not the reaction most people have," she replied, smiling faintly in a way that seemed at once to be filled with maternal nurturing and child-like curiosity. "Be not afraid of me. I mean you no harm."
His eyes hurt and along with it, a migraine in his front. What was she? He didn't know. He had never seen such a thing. He had only read about...
"Are you an angel?"
Angels...
He thought they would be scary. Alien looking. Things the human mind couldn't understand.
"What? Who said I'm scared?"
Sinister smirked, one hand holding his aching stomach, he stood.
That warmth....
He wanted to join it. Embrace it. But what did she want?
"Will you get me out of here?"
"That is one of the names you have given us, yes," she replied gently. "...Most men are frightened by our appearance. But... you are not like most men, are you?" Her brow furrowed slightly with concern as she studied his injuries and watched him struggle to his feet. "Yes. That is why I have been sent, to take you on from this place. It is quite... unnatural... that you should have survived with those injuries for so long." "...Just relax. Lie down. Close your eyes. Focus on the sound of my voice, and rest. Let go of what tethers you to this body, this world. Do this and you shall be in pain no longer."
Sinister squinted, trying to comprehend. Angel. A real angel? Indeed. He wasn't like most men. He was a beast. A monster. A heartless corrupted version of someone who once was...decent.
Some blood started to drip, hitting the floor. He shouldn't have moved...
"Unnatural? I've done many unnatural things..."
He smirked, a fake smile, his eyes were focusing on the void. He was thinking what to do.
The more she spoke the clearer it became. She was there to kill him.
"Do all living creatures that enter a suffering loop have this destiny? Angels like you are sent to give the last...mercy strike?"
He coughed.
"Relax. As if. I won't let you kill me. I still am going to leave this crumbling reality...and I will have everything I want!"
Sinister focused, his purple aura shone. He was ready to fight back.
Open Starter - post DSMOM
People were correct that your life could completely turn around with the flip of a switch... or a snap of a finger, more or less. After returning from the ashes, somehow it was a shock to realise that the seasons were still changing and the world was taking its course regardless of whether you had been there to witness it or not. A proof was the blur of orange, red and yellow leaves whirling in the air outside the enormous windows of the library in the Sanctum Santorum.
The absence of the sorcerer was an opportunity for Wanda to be alone with her thoughts and a black leather journal. As she scribbled down, bathing in the golden sunlight, she came to realise how surprised her loved ones would be, were they able to see her drastic turn of life events. How shocked and possibly annoyed Pietro would be by Strange had he met him.
"He's not too bad, but you might be displeased with him at times," Wanda wrote down as she wondered what it would be like to share the news with her twin in person. A bittersweet fantasy. "I'm certain you would've quickly befriended America, however. She's sweet and fierce, you would've liked her."
The lower the pen moved along the page, the messier the handwriting became. Pietro was not coming back, and the Sanctum was still empty as ever. A single tear joined the inked paper.
doctorstrangerp
Lighthearted. If Wanda used a single word to describe Strange, she would pick that one. Perhaps not his outward form, but the man underneath; the man he was within the walls of the Sanctum. How he managed to joke, to find it in himself to smile even after the horrors he had seen, she couldn't process.
His path had been planted with regret and remorse as he had lost his family, his career and his lover due to a cruel series of circumstances. Wanda had decided not to pry further, much less use telepathy - which she hadn't done since joining the Avengers, in hopes of earning his trust and letting him reveal more on his own terms.
Yet she failed to understand how despite being an additional cause of his suffering, she was given another chance by him. A second one she wasn't intending to waste.
The Sanctum was becoming a residence of her very own, Wanda could see Strange's attempts of making it so. She was set on expressing her gratitude via fierce protection of the place, casting her own runes all over it and doubling the security.
"Right. I keep forgetting you travel through timezones for free," she laughed when she saw him smirk, the outer corners of his eyes and mouth wrinkling slightly. It was a rare sight, but one she could easily get used to. He was usually his happiest after spending time with the Sorcerer Supreme or the multiverse traveler. And that's why Wanda felt inclined to ask.
"Kamar Taj seems to be holding up way better now," she began, twirling one of her silver rings. "... how are Wong and America doing? She brings out the best in you, doesn't she?"
"I can drag you to different timezones if you want...so you'll get the 'time and space are one and the same' idea."
He smiled.
"Kamar Taj is slowly returning to normal."
Stephen didn't say much about it. He would make a joke about sorcerers being stronger now by lifting rocks and some more wanting to learn telekinesis...but the memory of some of his friends dead under those rocks hit him too hard.
"Wong and America mean the world to me."
He said, his voice more honest and serious...tender and warm.
"They're my family. They make me feel better than...my previous...actual family used to. I belong...wherever they are."
Strange started opening the bags, taking the groceries with his shaky hands- they were tired.
"America and Wong do make me want to be better. The best version I can be...for them. We all lost...we all...felt so lonely...and so much pain, I know...but we have each other now. We don't have to face things alone."
His stiff posture and steady tone of voice was eloquent in letting Wanda know she had stricken a cord with her question, and regret immediately washed over her. She owed it to him and herself, however, to show her care and remorse, to show that she wasn't indifferent to the consequences of her own actions.
"I'm truly glad to hear this. I just... I cannot possibly apologize enough."
Warmth spread through her at the tenderness with which Strange was talking about his dearest people, but it dissipated as soon as he mentioned his family. It was rare when he'd do that, and Wanda could only read between the lines, not wishing to invade the privacy of his mind. It didn't take telepathy to realise his childhood wasn't bright.
"What matters is that you're not alone in facing the things you're going through, whatever they might be. Wong and America truly love you. And maybe meeting them was fate's way of erasing loneliness for the three of you."
Upon glancing at his trembling hands, Wanda instinctively reached out and gently snatched the items from his grasp before placing them on the kitchen counter. Her telepathy involuntarily sensed the shock waves of pain.
As she started arranging the groceries in the fridge and the cupboards, she said, "As long as you have a witch in the house, you won't need to do these things by yourself."
"You already apologized. And it wasn't entirely your fault. I fought a variant of myself that was absolutely wicked...he did...things that are...way way worse."
He looked down.
"So...how could I just...judge you?"
Stephen's hands would shake more as he used them, and even more when he was emotionally unwell. He was surprised and glad when Wanda took the objects from him.
"Thanks. My hands are acting up today. I should take some meds." He sighed.
Her words were so...so warm. He felt so much better.
"I guess...maybe it aas fate being a bit kind. Bringing us together." Strange said. "You also don't have to be alone."
The sorcerer said, smiling a bit again.
Aw her comment. Wanda was so sweet...
"Let's finish this quickly, I want to enjoy my day off..."
Open Starter - post DSMOM
People were correct that your life could completely turn around with the flip of a switch... or a snap of a finger, more or less. After returning from the ashes, somehow it was a shock to realise that the seasons were still changing and the world was taking its course regardless of whether you had been there to witness it or not. A proof was the blur of orange, red and yellow leaves whirling in the air outside the enormous windows of the library in the Sanctum Santorum.
The absence of the sorcerer was an opportunity for Wanda to be alone with her thoughts and a black leather journal. As she scribbled down, bathing in the golden sunlight, she came to realise how surprised her loved ones would be, were they able to see her drastic turn of life events. How shocked and possibly annoyed Pietro would be by Strange had he met him.
"He's not too bad, but you might be displeased with him at times," Wanda wrote down as she wondered what it would be like to share the news with her twin in person. A bittersweet fantasy. "I'm certain you would've quickly befriended America, however. She's sweet and fierce, you would've liked her."
The lower the pen moved along the page, the messier the handwriting became. Pietro was not coming back, and the Sanctum was still empty as ever. A single tear joined the inked paper.
doctorstrangerp
Lighthearted. If Wanda used a single word to describe Strange, she would pick that one. Perhaps not his outward form, but the man underneath; the man he was within the walls of the Sanctum. How he managed to joke, to find it in himself to smile even after the horrors he had seen, she couldn't process.
His path had been planted with regret and remorse as he had lost his family, his career and his lover due to a cruel series of circumstances. Wanda had decided not to pry further, much less use telepathy - which she hadn't done since joining the Avengers, in hopes of earning his trust and letting him reveal more on his own terms.
Yet she failed to understand how despite being an additional cause of his suffering, she was given another chance by him. A second one she wasn't intending to waste.
The Sanctum was becoming a residence of her very own, Wanda could see Strange's attempts of making it so. She was set on expressing her gratitude via fierce protection of the place, casting her own runes all over it and doubling the security.
"Right. I keep forgetting you travel through timezones for free," she laughed when she saw him smirk, the outer corners of his eyes and mouth wrinkling slightly. It was a rare sight, but one she could easily get used to. He was usually his happiest after spending time with the Sorcerer Supreme or the multiverse traveler. And that's why Wanda felt inclined to ask.
"Kamar Taj seems to be holding up way better now," she began, twirling one of her silver rings. "... how are Wong and America doing? She brings out the best in you, doesn't she?"
"I can drag you to different timezones if you want...so you'll get the 'time and space are one and the same' idea."
He smiled.
"Kamar Taj is slowly returning to normal."
Stephen didn't say much about it. He would make a joke about sorcerers being stronger now by lifting rocks and some more wanting to learn telekinesis...but the memory of some of his friends dead under those rocks hit him too hard.
"Wong and America mean the world to me."
He said, his voice more honest and serious...tender and warm.
"They're my family. They make me feel better than...my previous...actual family used to. I belong...wherever they are."
Strange started opening the bags, taking the groceries with his shaky hands- they were tired.
"America and Wong do make me want to be better. The best version I can be...for them. We all lost...we all...felt so lonely...and so much pain, I know...but we have each other now. We don't have to face things alone."
Open Starter - post DSMOM
People were correct that your life could completely turn around with the flip of a switch... or a snap of a finger, more or less. After returning from the ashes, somehow it was a shock to realise that the seasons were still changing and the world was taking its course regardless of whether you had been there to witness it or not. A proof was the blur of orange, red and yellow leaves whirling in the air outside the enormous windows of the library in the Sanctum Santorum.
The absence of the sorcerer was an opportunity for Wanda to be alone with her thoughts and a black leather journal. As she scribbled down, bathing in the golden sunlight, she came to realise how surprised her loved ones would be, were they able to see her drastic turn of life events. How shocked and possibly annoyed Pietro would be by Strange had he met him.
"He's not too bad, but you might be displeased with him at times," Wanda wrote down as she wondered what it would be like to share the news with her twin in person. A bittersweet fantasy. "I'm certain you would've quickly befriended America, however. She's sweet and fierce, you would've liked her."
The lower the pen moved along the page, the messier the handwriting became. Pietro was not coming back, and the Sanctum was still empty as ever. A single tear joined the inked paper.
A couple of hours passed until Strange walked into the kitchen with the groceries he had just bought. After cleaning and ordering everything, he decided to check on Wanda. He would always bring snacks and she always would accept...- it was always an excuse to talk to her at least.
Stephen gave the open door two soft knocks to not scare her.
"Good afternoon."
He smiled a little bit. Slowly he was learning which pastries and snacks were her favorite.
"Or as America would say, sup? Just got back from grocery, I got some stuff"
Stephen smilef again.
"It's getting dark. Come on, take a break."
The journal vanished into a cloud of scarlet smoke the moment Wanda heard the soft knocking. She swallowed down the built up tension, blinking away the tiny tears, pricking at the corners of her eyes, before letting Strange in. An occurrence like this was now rarity, but it would show once the deafening silence would give a way to the obnoxious nagging voices.
The sorcerer's attempt to joke made her light up nonetheless.
"Afternoon, Stephen. Let's see what stuff you got there," she chuckled, mimicking his humour tone.
At his comment, she peeked through the window - the sun was melting into a gorgeous red behind the skyscrapers.
"Dinner it is then. I shall help out setting the table," the redhead said, swiftly passing by the man and heading down the stairs to look through the things he'd bought. "How did your day go, Stephen?" she asked over her shoulder with a smile.
Some days were tougher, but he did make them better, whether he realised it or not.
Stephen smiled a bit more when she responded. He knew things hadn't been easy. The press...then Thanos and Vision...then Sword...the hex...the Darkhold, Agatha...
Wanda had to deal with so much. Alone. All alone. Not anymore. If she couldn't see the Sanctum as a home, then he hoped it would be a refuge at least. Somewhere she could be safe.
Despite often going to call her, Stephen had never stepped inside her room. If the door was closed, he wouldn't open it, just knock, if it was important. And never ever use portals into her persona space.
He wanted her to feel free. And the last thing he wished was the Sanctum to look like some sort of prison. Because it wasn't.
Stephen had even set one of the doors of the rotunda to her little house, just in case she wanted to leave for a while.
"My day was alright. I was helping with some classes and...planning...sorting some books at Kamar Taj..."
And helping rebuild it with his telekinesis. But he felt like it wasn't worth mentioning. He didn't want her to feel any more bad that she already was.
"Dinner?"
He smirked.
"In this house, meals are just meals. Kamar Taj is 9 hours ahead so...time always feels a bit weird."
It would be like 3am if he stepped through a portal to his true home and dinner would become a late night snack.
*a single white feather appears to float in midair by the window of the sanctum, just out of reach. When you touch it, it slowly blackens and disintegrates to ash in your hands*
.....what...? *panting a bit due to the wounds and intensive dark magic usage*
*a calming voice that echoes as though coming from a large, empty chamber speaks, though no one is yet visible* Stephen Strange... Your mortal suffering is at an end.
Sinister shivered at the echo.
Was that real? That voice? It was so beautiful, yet, it forged fear inside him.
"What..." Sinister whispered, his eyes searching but finding nothing.
With one hand against his stomach, resisting the pain, he slowly limped back, eyes narrowed attempting to find at least a target.
He opened his third eye trying to sense any other sign, but nothing.
Was that...his time to die? He didn't want to. He still had hopes of escaping that reality.
Gradually, the room seemed to fill with a warm glow, like soft sunlight. I have watched you, suffering alone in this forsaken place. You have been on the edge of death for days, yet you choose to cling with all you have left in you to the tortured mortal husk that imprisons you. Why do you linger here? Are you not in pain?
Sinister stared that odd presence.
Warmth. Since when had him felt such warmth?
"Shut up..."
It was all he thought.
Of course he had been suffering. Of course he wanted to survive, escape that place, live.
Why did he linger there? Pfft. He still had faith he could get out and heal...and....
His eyes were so heavy....
For a moment, the light grew brighter, enough that it would have hurt the eyes of the viewer like direct sunlight. After a moment, it faded a bit, the shape of a person seeming to materialize within it. Well, not quite a flesh and bone person, but one seemingly made of light. A woman, nearly 10 feet tall, with shining white wings and a flowing airy gown. Her face was kind, but almost unnaturally still, as though it were sculpted from marble. "Hmm, that's not the reaction most people have," she replied, smiling faintly in a way that seemed at once to be filled with maternal nurturing and child-like curiosity. "Be not afraid of me. I mean you no harm."
His eyes hurt and along with it, a migraine in his front. What was she? He didn't know. He had never seen such a thing. He had only read about...
"Are you an angel?"
Angels...
He thought they would be scary. Alien looking. Things the human mind couldn't understand.
"What? Who said I'm scared?"
Sinister smirked, one hand holding his aching stomach, he stood.
That warmth....
He wanted to join it. Embrace it. But what did she want?
"Will you get me out of here?"
*a single white feather appears to float in midair by the window of the sanctum, just out of reach. When you touch it, it slowly blackens and disintegrates to ash in your hands*
.....what...? *panting a bit due to the wounds and intensive dark magic usage*
*a calming voice that echoes as though coming from a large, empty chamber speaks, though no one is yet visible* Stephen Strange... Your mortal suffering is at an end.
Sinister shivered at the echo.
Was that real? That voice? It was so beautiful, yet, it forged fear inside him.
"What..." Sinister whispered, his eyes searching but finding nothing.
With one hand against his stomach, resisting the pain, he slowly limped back, eyes narrowed attempting to find at least a target.
He opened his third eye trying to sense any other sign, but nothing.
Was that...his time to die? He didn't want to. He still had hopes of escaping that reality.
Gradually, the room seemed to fill with a warm glow, like soft sunlight. I have watched you, suffering alone in this forsaken place. You have been on the edge of death for days, yet you choose to cling with all you have left in you to the tortured mortal husk that imprisons you. Why do you linger here? Are you not in pain?
Sinister stared that odd presence.
Warmth. Since when had him felt such warmth?
"Shut up..."
It was all he thought.
Of course he had been suffering. Of course he wanted to survive, escape that place, live.
Why did he linger there? Pfft. He still had faith he could get out and heal...and....
His eyes were so heavy....
Open Starter - post DSMOM
People were correct that your life could completely turn around with the flip of a switch... or a snap of a finger, more or less. After returning from the ashes, somehow it was a shock to realise that the seasons were still changing and the world was taking its course regardless of whether you had been there to witness it or not. A proof was the blur of orange, red and yellow leaves whirling in the air outside the enormous windows of the library in the Sanctum Santorum.
The absence of the sorcerer was an opportunity for Wanda to be alone with her thoughts and a black leather journal. As she scribbled down, bathing in the golden sunlight, she came to realise how surprised her loved ones would be, were they able to see her drastic turn of life events. How shocked and possibly annoyed Pietro would be by Strange had he met him.
"He's not too bad, but you might be displeased with him at times," Wanda wrote down as she wondered what it would be like to share the news with her twin in person. A bittersweet fantasy. "I'm certain you would've quickly befriended America, however. She's sweet and fierce, you would've liked her."
The lower the pen moved along the page, the messier the handwriting became. Pietro was not coming back, and the Sanctum was still empty as ever. A single tear joined the inked paper.
A couple of hours passed until Strange walked into the kitchen with the groceries he had just bought. After cleaning and ordering everything, he decided to check on Wanda. He would always bring snacks and she always would accept...- it was always an excuse to talk to her at least.
Stephen gave the open door two soft knocks to not scare her.
"Good afternoon."
He smiled a little bit. Slowly he was learning which pastries and snacks were her favorite.
"Or as America would say, sup? Just got back from grocery, I got some stuff"
Stephen smilef again.
"It's getting dark. Come on, take a break."
(More) Stephen Strange Headcanons
Because you guys asked
Absolute music addict
Will hold his phone while listening to music on his bed, eyes closed, imagining movie scenes, his own dreams, for hours at night.
Many times will go to one specific music he wants to listen to and keep repeating the same dramatic bit over and over
Listens to tons of movies, series and animes OSTs
When he's alone at night, listening to songs, he will often sing along, but without any sound, he will just move his lips
Often imagines/dreams he can play more instruments and more skillfully and that he's famous and loved for playing
Likes to hug pillows a lot, he had a special pillow to hug UNTIL he met the Cloak
The Cloak needs to rest too, and when both the Cloak and Stephen need to rest, they cuddle
Stephen and the Cloak have a very deep, intimate, unique, special bond- the Cloak suffered with Stephen against Dormammu and Thanos- Stephen wants to protect that bond so strongly-that's why he doesn't like when the Cloak shows affection in public, but the Cloak keeps doing that because when in private, Stephen clings a lot to its affection
Since his father was so strict when he was a kid/teenager, once Strange went to live on his own, he started to try all sorts of things- movies, songs, clothes, food, visiting places, dating- eventually he settled down, but that made Strange be VERY OPEN MINDED about all sorts of things.
He sort of sees his sister in young people who are lost or need help, so his first instinct is to protect
He has a very very very lower self esteem most people imagine he has
Stephen has a very deep strong bond with Wong. Both went through so much together, rebuilding the Sanctum and keeping the stability of the Masters of the Mystic Arts after Kaecilius attacked and after Endgame. Now after DS2 (Wanda's attack).
All the pain and suffering Stephen went through only made him want to refrain others from going through the same.
He can be mean and will be mean if provoked, but he won't cause severe injury, what he did to Pizza Poppa is the limit
Will act mean to show off or to pretend he's a menace he's not supposed to be messed with
Strange is very very analytical and logical, however, he often makes mistakes because he is naive - because he always expects the best from people and gets distracted very easily (most of the times he lost a battle or got betrayed both in DS2 and No Way Home)
Due to his abusive father, Stephen has come to avoid anything associated with "father figures"- he doesn't want to be a father, is afraid that if he were a father he could be a bad father and his kids would despise him the way he disliked his own father, so even though he takes younger heroes under his wings (Peter, America), he will do what he can to not be associated with a father- however, he deeply cares and ends up sort of fathering- despite trying to keep his distance, despite trying to pretend he doesn't care.
He hates people who control things too much, however, ironically, he became like that, he is aware of that and trying to change, actively, and he has a very good insight of it- he's trying to be less rude, to yell less, to be more polite.
He's a good actor.
He's always looking at Wong to see his reaction
He admires Wong and knows Wong is waaaay ahead of him in wisdom, composure, knowledge, responsibility, etc.
Strange sometimes acts like a brat/dork/sassy irresponsible shit to call Wong's attention.
He often does risky things to prove Wong and himself that he is capable of great things- also to feed his low self esteem
Strange used so much alcohol as a cheap pain killer he doesn't get drunk anymore- he would need so SO SO MUCH alcohol to start getting drunk (he drinks a lot at Christine's wedding and he's still 100% sober)
I feel like his stomach is sensible- probably vomited a lot during med school (hidden, it's one of his secrets)
Has photographic memory, also, his imagination can be VERY PRECISE, he uses it to create stories, movies and clips inside his head- when he was homeless in Kamar Taj he kept doing that all the time when he had to sleep or take shelter from the rain
He got to meet and build strong bonds with many Avengers during the time he was living the possible outcomes, however, only Stephen remembers
Strange LOVES animals, he was raised in a farm, he loved the horses and other animals- he has only seen kindness in them, hurt an animal in front of Strange and he will be VERY VERY ANGRY
He started to have white hair when he was 24, so he dyed his hair for some years, slowly stopping to dye as he got older, naturally not caring so much anymore, taking longer to dye-
One of the reasons he doesn't want to be considered old is because in his head, he's getting more similar to his father.
The extent of abuses he suffered - unknown- physical for sure (I remember seeing comic panels of him being slapped- like Tony was, my memory could be failing me but it probably happened because Stephen has SO FREAKING MANY RED FLAGS of physical abuse- when you study anything related to the health field, specially medicine psychology, those red flags become easier to be seen and Benedict acts them VERY DAMN WELL.) Mora/psychological abuse for sure. I've talked to other fans who study the character a lot and they also had come to the same conclusion that Strange probably shielded his sister Donna and his brother Victor from his father's abuses.
Cries a lot. He cries. Tears might not roll down sometimes, he can drain them back inside, swallow his tears, not shed them despite his eyes being A POOL OF TEARS so so many times- he learned to do that because his father wouldn't allow the "older boy of the house" cry.
He helped to raise his sister Donna and his brother Victor, he knows how to look after kids, he knows how to cook the essential, he knows how to clean and dress and teach. He's a great teacher, despite his own way of teaching.
Will melt at sweet physical touch- caressing his hair/cheeks/face gently WAY BETTER caressing body parts/arms/legs seem to make him uncomfortable/triggered (red flag?)
Will follow your hands with his eyes if you intend to touch him
DO NOT TOUCH HIS HAIR if you're not intimate, he probably got his hair violently pulled a lot by his father
SQUINTS a lot
Eyes very sensible to wind and sunlight
Trips if he uses glasses
Him giving his hand to hold is an ultimate act of trust
Likes to hide his hands in warm places, will hide them under you if you're intimate
Always walks with hands in pockets or behind the Cloak
Accepted his scars but doesn't like when people stare
Loves customizing/fashion/style is pretty boy, so much self care
Want more? Just tell me/like/comment. :D
*a single white feather appears to float in midair by the window of the sanctum, just out of reach. When you touch it, it slowly blackens and disintegrates to ash in your hands*
.....what...? *panting a bit due to the wounds and intensive dark magic usage*
*a calming voice that echoes as though coming from a large, empty chamber speaks, though no one is yet visible* Stephen Strange... Your mortal suffering is at an end.
Sinister shivered at the echo.
Was that real? That voice? It was so beautiful, yet, it forged fear inside him.
"What..." Sinister whispered, his eyes searching but finding nothing.
With one hand against his stomach, resisting the pain, he slowly limped back, eyes narrowed attempting to find at least a target.
He opened his third eye trying to sense any other sign, but nothing.
Was that...his time to die? He didn't want to. He still had hopes of escaping that reality.
