Hello and good morning/afternoon or evening wherever you are. I hope this isn’t a bother but can we have a doctor strange! Reader having to take down interdimensional threats like angstrom and mark variants before the time stream collapses ( kinda like spiderman long way from home. I love your work!)
A wise woman once said, “For a genius, nothing is more precious than failure.”
For a doctor, there is no such thing as perfection–that’s why they call it “practicing medicine,” because there is always more to learn and there will always be something to improve.
Sadly, you were no longer a surgeon. Magic is the source of miracles, but even it is bound by destiny, and destiny states that you were meant to serve the world outside the operating room. Outside the realm considered “normal.”
Being Sorcerer Supreme wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Sure, you could turn bullets into butterflies at the flick of a wrist, and yes, it’s nice being able to go anywhere without having to wait for the bus or sit still in an airplane next to a crying baby.
You prevented evil wizards from taking over the spirit and mortal world, stopped the sun from becoming a black hole more times than you can count, and outsmarted an interdimensional Eldritch abomination–
Blah blah blah.
You missed the good old days, when you were just a student at the bottom of the food chain, when there was more to study, more to explore, more to learn.
Humans are privileged in not having enough time to learn everything all at once. You were an unfortunate exception. With your astral projection, sleep was no longer something you worried about; while your physical form recuperated, your soul would devour all the books and ancient scriptures available. But now? You knew everything. Time is the enemy for mortal scholars, but what happens when time becomes your slave?
The time stone has long been lost, but during the brief moments you had it, you bore witness to every branch from the tree of fate. Every probability, every parallel universe blooming with every choice made by everything and everyone in existence.
In one of those blossoms, a man named Angstrom Levy saw but a tiny fraction of eternity, and thought that he alone had unlocked the secret of the universe.
“Little fool,” you said, voice cold.
He struggled against your binding spell but the golden strings around his neck, waist and limbs tightened in response.
“Don’t waste brain power trying to escape.” The spell that kept him in place also cut off the source of his teleportation.
When he finally realized that there was no flaw to exploit in your ropes, he breathed out an angry “Who are you?”
“Wow, you really tried to take over the multiverse without even knowing who I am? Very well–” You flipped your cape. “You are one of the chosen few to meet me in person. I am the Sorcerer Supreme, Master of the Mystic Arts.”
“I have never heard of you.”
You laughed at his cheap attempts to insult you. “That’s all right. I’ve been around for so long that monsters have forgotten to fear me. Soon, you will be joining them.”
“Me? You’re punishing me? What about him–what about them?” He didn’t have to say a name. You knew exactly who he meant. And that person’s alternate selves were likely already killing each other in that wasteland dimension.
“What about them?”
Angstrom was taken aback by your words. “Mark Grayson is nothing but a pest, a-a-a darkness that ruins everything–”
“Mark Grayson is the sole existence that’s keeping this world and all the other worlds alive.”
He looked at you like you were insane.
“You really don’t know anything, do you?”
“Know what?”
You placed your palm over his eyes, white light flashing as you force-fed memories into his head.
Angstrom screamed in agony.
You pulled back. “Now you know the truth.”
“No… it can’t be.”
“You’re supposed to be a smarter man than this, Angstrom, do not deny what has been placed in front of you.”
“No!” He wriggled, the binds suffocated him with each movement. “It can’t be! This world, me and him, you’re telling me… you’re telling me that every bad thing that has happened to us, every single choice we made was meaningless?!”
You shrugged. “I wouldn’t say ‘meaningless.’ You and everyone else here was born for a single purpose–” You smiled and said: “Entertainment.”
Golden threads wrapped around his mouth, stopping him from shouting once again.
“The gods are cruel, aren’t they?” You whispered. “But there’s not much we can do about that.”
You waved your hand and he was gone.
Time to clean up his mess.
You cracked your knuckles and opened the last world he accessed with his powers.
It wasn’t a dying Earth, but a dying universe. Even if they flew out of the Milky Way they won’t be finding anything.
When you appeared, two of them tried to attack you but your protection spells were quicker.
“Now gentlemen, there is no need to be rough. I’m here to send you home.”
The Mark draped in black and yellow kept his fist on your shield. “You expect me to believe that? You’re with Angstrom, aren’t you? Where is he? I'm going to kill him!”
You didn’t say anything, merely watched as he tried punching you again.
Another Mark with a veil joined him.
Idiots.
You snapped your fingers and your shields combined to a giant dome that pushed them back. “I’m not that little red-haired playmate of yours, it’s going to take a lot more than a few hits from a Viltrumite to break down my force fields.”
You waved your arm and they started floating against their will. Even with their smart atoms, they couldn’t fly away.
The others regarded you with anger and suspicion.
“Who…what are you?” The Mark wearing Omni-Man’s colors demanded.
“I’m the Sorcerer Supreme.”
There was a beat before he replied, “Who?”
Your eyebrow twitched. “Look, I already dealt with Angstrom, I came here to help you get back to your respective timelines out of the goodness of my heart, mind you.”
“How about you take us to Angstrom and we don’t beat the living shit out of you?” The guy with the awful haircut said.
“I don’t think you want that.”
“I think we do,” said the bald one.
The Invincible with his whole head covered up stepped forward. “We don’t want to fight, so just surrender.”
“Speak for yourself,” Mohawk snorted.
“Give up,” Omni-Invincible pointed his finger at you. “You are outnumbered.”
“Oh?” Your cape fluttered behind you. “Well, you are outclassed.”
To call what happened next a “fight” would be an insult to the word. They fell like flies in a matter of seconds.
You sent them to their realities and once again, the multiverse was safe from destruction. With a yawn, you went back home and watched a movie.
A/N: I've never watched the Tom Holland Spiderman films and my knowledge about Dr. Strange is limited, but I didn't want to reject these requests cause they gave me a chance to write an OP reader. Once again, liberties were taken when I made this fic. (Y/n is also lowkey inspired by the unrivaled Madam Herta.)
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