#mcu oc muse

[cloudybrews]

The lights flicked for moment as he sighed. He hated reading the news but considering how people felt about people like him. It didn't make him feel better. He wasn't paying attention. The flick just above him was going on and off in rhythm as he hmm a song to his self.. Lost in thought he felt someone touch his shoulder. He nearly jumped but played it off, the light stop flickering above him just to see the reader.

"Oh..er.. Hiiiiiiii" he said making the i drawn out. His face flushed pink. " Sorry about that, er.. how can I help you " he asked softly.

[c0mplex-heroes]

near miss open starter: maggie rogers open to marvel muses/verses or modern verses

It had been a few days since the news had been flooded with her face. A murder of a senator. And one soul suspect. Margaret Natasha Rogers. Of course she would never. Someone was playing a game here... And right now all Maggie knew was she couldn't afford to get caught.

Instead she'd ran, not telling anyone where she was going. Last thing she wanted to do was drag anyone else into her mess, make them a fugitive too. So alone she set off, on alert and looking for answers.

The abandoned building she now found herself in was silent. Almost... Hearing something behind her. Maggie takes a chance, whipping out her gun to fire off a warning shot.

"Whoever's there show yourself and keep your hands where I can see them."

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

'It's Not the Years, Honey - It's the Mileage'

a Whumped Doctor Strange one-shot

Inspired by a couple of pre Multiverse of Madness articles comparing Stephen Strange to Indiana Jones😉😁

genre: whump, hurt/comfort, light humor

rating: general audience

characters: Stephen Strange, Tess O'Neill (Healer of Kamar-Taj, OFC); established relationship; Cloak of Levitation

word count: 1.9k

It was supposed to have been date night, but Stephen was overdue. Three hours overdue. Again. Tess had taken these things in stride, right from the start. After all, you can’t be lucky enough to be the significant other of the Sorcerer Supreme without being incredibly patient, understanding, and flexible. Besides which, he was always so adorable when he finally found his way home, sincere in his apologies, and more often than not, presenting her with a fresh bouquet, which he managed to conjure even before he uttered a single word. Tonight’s transgression was bound to be a two dozen roses mea culpa--and she just knew he’d make them her favorite: pale pink American Beauties.

Not that he ever needed to. His company was dear enough recompense for any time he kept her waiting. Except for the worrying, of course, but Tess had quickly adjusted to that, and so far she hadn’t made any complaint, no matter how late her Stephen managed to show up. She’d rather spend their precious time on more pleasant pursuits--and on showing him however she could, how happy he made her simply by being...him. 

And so, Tess had adjusted down their plans. First, from dinner out and a movie, to take-out and the latest blu-ray release. And then from that, to something she could whip up, quick and easy, in the Sanctum’s smaller kitchen. Stephen was bound to be hungry when he arrived, and she had a hearty pot of stew simmering on the stove and a batch of honey cornbread ready to pop into the oven while he cleaned up. 

Tess had just given the stew another stir, when she felt a tapping on her shoulder. She turned to find Cloak looking battle singed and...well...harried. How this being without a face could express such a wide range of emotions was a continual wonder to her--but right now her immediate reaction was to ask if Stephen was alright. 

Cloak’s collar shook a clear ‘no’, and then it tugged at her arm, to get her moving. She turned off the stove and moved the stewpot to another burner, and followed Cloak down the grand staircase. And there sat Stephen on the third step, head bowed and shoulders hunched, his bloodstained tunic rent in several places. Tess’s heart leapt to her throat, though she tried to remain calm, realizing that he needed her as a Healer tonight, far more than as the woman who loved him. 

She dropped to one knee in front of him, noting that the shelf of his jaw bore a dark bruise, and that he had a nasty cut across the bridge of his nose, a black eye and a split lip. “Hey,” she said softly, reaching her sure hands towards him, studying his wounds with practiced eyes, evaluating which she should address first. Thankfully, the blood on his clothing was dried, so that Tess concluded he wasn’t actively bleeding. “What happened,” she asked quietly, concerned to see him breathe shallowly, as breathing any deeper appeared to make him wince. 

“You don’t wanna know,” he muttered, as she placed both of her palms on his chest and closed her eyes, searching for any internal damage. 

“Ow...ow...ow...owwwwwwww,” he grumbled, “Is this really necessary?” 

Cloak was flitting back and forth, giving the closest approximation of pacing as possible. “It certainly is, as well you know...Doctor.” To that he only grunted, then followed with a heavy groan when she palpated his lower ribs and abdomen. “Stephen,” she informed him patiently, “You’ve got at least three cracked ribs...” 

“I know,” he replied curtly, “Don’t you think I know that?”

Tess tried to placate him. “Of course you do--but there’s no need to be pissy about it. It’ll just take a simple healing spell to start them knitting properly together.” 

“I...know,” he repeated through gritted teeth, attempting to stand. Cloak had to swoop in to keep him from landing hard on his bottom. 

Tess rose and wiped her hands on her denim capris. “Cloak, can you get him up to the infirmary, so I can take care of him properly?” 

Cloak nodded, but Stephen had other ideas. “No infirmary--just get me to my room...” 

Honestly, doctors really do make the worst patients, she thought, although she held her tongue, telling Stephen instead, “Nope. It’s the infirmary for you.” He huffed, but didn’t speak up. “And that’s Healer’s orders, Stephen. I outrank you in this, at least for the moment...” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled dismissively. He handed her his sling ring, “We can portal there--it’ll be quicker and a less bumpy trip than relying on...” He wagged his head in Cloak’s direction. 

Tess had to suppress a chuckle, as Cloak’s reaction to that perceived insult was to turn its back to Stephen. “Alright,” she sighed, slipping his ring on and bringing the golden circle to life. She returned to his side and offered him a hand to help him stand up. “Just lean on me, and we’ll be there in a jiffy.” 

She could feel his aversion to appearing so needy, even as he braced himself with an arm across her shoulders, but knew well that it wasn’t on her account. Stephen generally disliked showing weakness to anyone, although as their relationship had blossomed, his trust in her had been enough for him to reveal much of what he hid from the world behind sarcasm and bravado. Tess had always taken such precious trust as both a privilege and an honor. Stiff lipped against his pain and leaning on her heavily, they hobbled through the portal and Tess led him to sit on the nearest bed. 

The infirmary was empty but for them, and she took a moment to close the portal, and then rushed to gather her supplies. Disinfectant and a basin of warm water, along with a washcloth and the softest, fluffiest towel she could conjure, for after she got him cleaned up. And bandages. Lots and lots of bandages. Tess returned to Stephen’s side to find him struggling to remove his tunic. She set down her things, telling him, “Here...let me...” 

“I’ve...got...this.” he grunted, though it was clearly hurting him to raise his arms above his head. 

“No. No you don’t,” she corrected him gently, “Please--just let me do my job, Stephen.” 

“Alright...alright...” He did his best to relax as she worked the garment over his head and off. Tess gasped at the network of contusions across his shoulders and upper chest. “Dammit, Tess...that hurts!” 

“I know, darling. I know.” To her relief, most of his bruises appeared superficial. “Let’s start by getting you cleaned up, okay.” Stephen nooded, and closed his eyes as she washed the cut on his nose, and several shallow scratches on his cheeks and chin, finally seeing to the split on his lower lip. 

Next, she addressed the wounds on his back, circling behind him and perching on the edge of the bed. She was relieved again to find that they were rather shallow as well, and made quick work of cleansing them. Tess chose that moment to speak to him as his woman, rather than as a Healer. “You know--you’re extremely fit for a man your age, darling. But it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more careful out there.”

“It’s not the years, honey...” he snorted, “...it’s the mileage...” Stephen had stiffened despite her gentle approach, but when she applied the disinfectant, he hissed out a string of very un-Stephen-like curses. 

“Don’t be such a baby,” she muttered, her patience beginning to strain.

“I’m not,” he responded petulantly. 

Coulda fooled me, she thought, but bit back that retort. A few minutes more and she had his wounds properly bandaged. Tess set aside the basin and the towel, telling him, “Now let’s see about those ribs. Do you think you can lay back? It’ll be easier that way.” 

“Of course I can,” he barked, “I’m not an invalid, you know.” 

No, you’re just the crankiest Master of the Mystic Arts that I've ever encountered. Bravest and most selfless too, so I suppose I can forgive your churlishness.

He winced when she placed her hands on his shoulders, helping to ease him onto his back. Closing her eyes again, she skimmed her hands above the skin covering his damaged ribs, whispering the charm needed to bolster his body’s natural healing ability. Satisfied that she had succeeded once she could feel the spell take root, Tess pulled her hands away and opened her eyes. Stephen’s were closed, and his face had gone slack with a look of relief. Good enough, she concluded, hoping he would sleep a long while to aid in healing. 

Still, she thought she could do a little something to speed the reduction in the nastiest of his contusions--and it would be best to try while he was asleep. She reached tentative fingers to Stephen’s right shoulder. His eyes flew open with a start, “Owwwwww...that’s still tender, you know!” 

“I’m just trying to help...” 

“Well...I don’t need a nurse anymore,” he groused, “I just want to sleep.” 

“If you let me see to these now, you’ll feel much better in the morning...” Tess trailed her fingertips along his jaw, channeling her own energy into relieving his pain. “Any better?”

"A little,” he pouted, “But it hurts...almost everywhere...”

There seemed to be no pleasing him this way--but still, it was her nature to try. Exasperated, she blurted out, “Well, dammit, Stephen--where doesn’t it hurt?” 

Looking defiant, he showed her his elbow, “Here.” Tess laid the softest kiss she could upon it. 

“And...and here,” he added, pointing to his forehead, his whole demeanor softening in response to her tenderness. Cautiously, Tess leaned in and planted a loving kiss there. Momentum had turned in her favor. 

Stephen pointed to his un-blackened eye, “Um...here?”

Tess smiled softly, watching his eyes flutter shut, and then brushed her lips as lightly as she could upon his eyelid. There was a moment as her face hovered over his, and the look when he opened his eyes made her heart start to melt--for within their mercurial depths, she saw both gratitude and an apology for his childish behavior. Stephen tapped his lips and murmured, “Here.” 

She wondered if he felt her indulgent smile as their lips finally met, but before too long their kiss had gone from chaste to something deeper and more enduring, as he relaxed completely under her loving ministration. When she finally pulled away, Tess found that her kiss had worked a magic of its own, and her beloved Stephen was out like a light. 

Tess arose and draped the sheet across him lightly, then levitated the next bed over and landed it flush against his. Her hunch was that he’d sleep through the night, but she wanted to be close by if he should need her. 

Come morning, she awoke to find him gone--can’t keep a good Sorcerer down for long, she mused--but in his place, he’d left three dozen pale pink American Beauties, and a small piece of handwritten parchment. It was brief but to the point:  

Thank you, honey. For everything. Love - your Stephen xx

tagging: @hithertoundreamtof23 @stewardofningishzida @ironstrange1991 @mousedetective @aphroditesdilemma @icytrickster17 @groovyqueer @battledress @aelaer @mckiwi @couldntbedamned

[tarnishedxknight]

Curious New Friend || closed with constellationcursed

@constellationcursed

By now, Shadow knew most of the people around the Avengers compound. Certainly, he knew the Archadians, for he'd known them before the world around him had complete changed for some unknown reason. His blacksmith friend was here too, and there were others here who sort of smelled like they were from his old home as well. The others... smelled really funny to Shadow, but most of them were very nice to him, so he didn't mind.

But this person... was new. Shadow had stalked them for a time, watching and sniffing, before deciding to make his move. Maybe they would have food? Or if nothing else, he might make a new friend. As an extremely social animal, that would be good enough for him too.

"Mrrrreow..." Shadow trilled by way of greeting, looking up at the new person with his large eyes. If he had to, he'd turn on the charm, but for now he was mostly waiting to see if this person was friendly toward him or if he was maybe going to get a shoe thrown at him or something...

[parasite-the-symbiote]

Currently redesigning parasite, trying to figure out what features to add (it won’t completely determine it, might pick some features that didn’t win popular support, but why the hell not. I wanna see what you guys think, and I prob won’t add the mandibles if bug features wins bc that would be a pain in the ass to draw)

@wheelbarrowofstagefourcancer since the symbiote’s host would prob affect or has some say in the symbiote’s appearance here

[oozeyboozey-archive]

i look inside myself and see MY HEART IS BLACK. i see my red door , i must HAVE IT PAINTED BLACK. Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to FACE THE FACTS. it's not easy facing up , when YOUR WHOLE WORLD IS BACK.

no more will my green sea go turn a DEEPER BLUE. i could not foresee this thing HAPPENING TO YOU. if i look hard enough into the settin' sun , my love will laugh with me UNTIL THE MORNING COMES.

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

should i create a separate masterlist (either a new marvel tv masterlist or add to my current marvel-not-mcu list) for marvel ocs who are in marvel tv series (agatha all along, tfatws, hawkeye, wandavision, etc)?

can't decide if that would be useful or if that's just too many masterlists lmao

[littlesistersti]

2/2 } Self-insert OCs / personas tend to date the author’s anime crush …

and yet that only happened once for Stine Køhler.

Continued from here link. [word count 1317]

AU where Stine hopped into an alternate dimension and landed in … the things I did when I join another fandom.

The timeline where 17 year old Stine had enough of this world and left for Transformers Prime, after having previously been there at age 15. Meant to be the 2nd instalment of a duology. She swears allegiance to the Decepticons and more so for Lord/Commander Starscream. Simply because he was my favourite. I didn’t fancy him. I read plenty of Starscream x reader, rarely convinced me.

>> She has a strong love and respect for him as both fictional character and boss. It’s a tragic story for her. Come on, did you really think the Starscream of Primeverse would show any affection or recognition for a human? It’s a one-sided affection (am I supposed to say love and affection when it’s not romantic. It’s like a super strong squish. One-sided friendship. Yeah, that’s better) and she refused to accept otherwise. He likes having the puny insect doting on him.

The continued timeline where 18+ Stine crash landed into the world of Marvel Cinematic Universe and somewhere in the middle of her years, she had a crisis because she mentally turned 30 years old while still 18 physically. That was the day before Age of Ultron gave her a premature mid-life crisis because what do you mean a former Decepticon battled 1 sentient AI in the form of a robot army?!

Imagine kid me watching Iron Man or the Avengers for the first time and falling in love (in a para social and consumer way) with Marvel superheroes. Quickly, Tony Stark and Loki became my faves but not crushes. I did read some Loki x Reader. The age gap between irl me loving them and Stine is the kicker.

>> She fangirled when she met Tony Stark. She and Phil Coulson could start a fan club. She calmed down when the reality of joining him as a fellow Avenger set in.

>> Stine felt quite sheepish to battle Loki as an Avenger. She also immaturely showed off 1 sleight of hand to him when he was in that giant tube. Not SHIELD protocol, you were supposed to gain intel.

>> Because nothing was canon, I came up with a hundred routes to this AU like if Loki stayed around or if she crash landed in Asgard instead of Earth. If there was a happier ending for Loki a la mode fanfic tag Avenger!Loki or something like that, she would consider him a good ally in magic. She would still feel sheepish about the whole “former Decepticon fights some alien dude who wants to conquer Earth as an Avenger” thing.

The continued, continued timeline where she French left the Avengers and joined the Kamar-Taj, took on a pseudonym and met Doctor Strange. Hey, my newest fave. I read more Doctor Strange fanfics than Doctor Strange x reader fanfics. There was like, one. Meh.

>> They are classmates or peers, but only when she’s off-duty. To compromise on “rent” (do you pay rent at Kamar-Taj? Do they make money?), she teaches magic. How convenient that her methods are unorthodox in this universe. He finds her methods tedious and sloppy. The fact it’s temporary is a cop out at that. He dismisses her and thinks her pitiful. Whatever, at least she learns the same sorcery with him. The only bragging right she has against him is learning how to use the sling ring faster than him (perks of already knowing long-distance travel / teleportation magic from her universe). She approves of his sneaking behind Wong and would have done the same. They’re allies.

Sooner or later, she retires everything and leaves MCU for good. She returns to her home world for good. Is she truly the same? She’s 30 years old in the body of an 18 or 19 year old. Was it 30 or did she blink? (It was actually 5+ years, nearing 10) How do you live off of borrowed time? Was she supposed to mature or grow up as a superhero or villain? She wasn’t supposed to grow up. She technically did but…

She permits the dust to settle and spend quality time with her Nordic family.

Syke! Keep reading below for the full 1317 word or click here for part 3 if desired.

Syke! AU where the timeline continued more! or we skip past all of that straight into Twisted Wonderland. Either or works. The former allows for 3 types of magic so there’s that. She is a Ramshackle student with Yuu + Grim and gains income as tutor. At some point in the AU, I created an alternate route where she was never a student but actual staff, where she lived in Ramshackle and worked as Teacher Assistant to all 5 of them.

Ah finally. She should be mature enough by now, after retiring her Avengers and Decepticon life. She should be 19 or 20 by now. Here is where I tell you my faves are Leona Kingscholar and Jamil Viper, plus Deuce Spade and Sebek Zigvolt. The freshmen are my sons and I cherish them. I read some Leona x reader and hey, that’s my husbando and waifu rolled into one. I don’t have an anime crush on Leona, I have an anime infatuation and obsession and *shot*

>> Stine sees Yuu + Grim as a good roommate and repays them with magic help. Never intrudes on their friendship with Ace and Deuce but sometimes pops in. They surprise her at tutoring sometimes. Surprise her as in attend sessions.

>> When she saw Sebek’s devotion to Malleus, she saw a bit of her past self in him. The more she interacted with him, the more she felt obligated to protect this child. She’ll eventually come around to Lilia and Malleus to express such.

>> She threw herself in front of Jamil so his Unique Magic wouldn’t harm Yuu + squad in Ch. 4 and that was it. Ok, but seriously, when Octavinelle trio discussed with her and Yuu + Grim the mind control magic, she told them it’s nearly impossible in her world. Only because younger her was a law-abiding magician who wouldn’t dare touch the dark stuff with a 9 ft pole, and also because Norway said it’s expensive. Anyways, she got hit by Wanda Maximoff (Age of Ulton) and hit again by Jamil? Not a fun ride. She stayed away from him for a month.

>> When Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr sang, “We keep meeting” in Hamilton. Stine delivered a message to Leona for the first time, ran an errand and saw him in the same room, did her reading up in the trees and how long was he napping under me? I didn’t see him a second ago, crashed into him rushing to class, spilt a hot beverage on both of themselves in the canteen and much to her embarrassment, had to treat this Dormleader of Savanaclaw and upperclassman before treating herself and has the burn mark to prove it. Yeah, I don’t know how but they ended up dating. A normal relationship at that. None of the one-sided thing or strangers or co-worker mutual respect. They see each other as equal baby-adults.

>> He permits her access to Savanclaw dorm. She falls asleep in the common hall from studying with the midnight oil. She confesses to him about her jet past and itch to fly again. He permits her to fly the Savannaclaw firmament. For the first time in a long time, she reactivates her jet and takes off, no identity attached.

Honestly, there is so much more to say but I’ll have to make a new post, because this could go on forever.

& that is how Stine is only dating 1 person and it’s a semi-canon timeline with a camping backpack load of lore. Feel free to send some asks, but don’t abuse it. I forgot to give the other post a word count.

[ledarth]

Le Puppy...

Judith Fero.

────────────── ·  ·  · ♡

❝ Why does it take a survivor to live? I don't want an existence sprinkled with great memorable moments, I want a good one. I'll make a good one. And I accept that it will be sprinkled with bad, heartbreaking memorable moments. That's how it should be anyways. ❞

Age:: 24 years old.

Height:: 169 cm.

Born in Benin. Raised in the South of France. Studying for her PhD in the U.S.A.

Polyglot:: Goun, French, English, Spanish and Archaic & Post-Cicero Latin.

Alignment:: Neutral Good.

Sexuality:: She cares little for gender but does need for a connection to form before any sort of sexual desire arises.

Hobbies:: Strong Swimmer since youth, Books were her home once so Literature holds a special place in her heart, Photography and Cinema she is newer to but she has been delving into it earnestly.

Trained in:: Kajukenbo, Nikkyu currently (brown belt with two stripes).

Specie :: Varies on the verse.

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals: Currently mortal. (But an unaware werewolf who hasn't killed anyone yet thus not triggered the curse. This way she can still be turned by a vampire if before the curse is triggered, probably killing the potential gene in the process)

Teen Wolf: Mortal. Substitute Teacher at Beacon Hills High.

Shadowhunters: Mundane-yet-Sighted in the employ of the Paris Institute formerly but now transferred to the New York Institute as a Intelligence Analyst so fully trained to protect herself.

MCU: Interning as an Intelligence Analyst for S.A.B.E.R, somehow, following a M.A Thesis labeled: "Towards a communal grand strategy and foreign policy vision to approach extraterrestrial and extra-dimensional threats." that Bruce Banner actually read and heavily critiqued which led to some interesting Twitter Exchanges. The subject of her current thesis being: "Exolinguistics as a tool of diplomacy and understanding extraterrestrial and extra-dimensional history and customs." Perhaps leading towards a typology of the currently known extraterrestrial and extra-dimensional nations/people/populations.

DC(CU, Series and) Comics: Mostly Broke Gothamite though currently writing for the international politics section of the Gotham Globe. Currently living in downtown Gotham and relatively near crime alley. (Former member of We Are Robin depending on the timeline.)

The Blacklist: She's an Intelligence Analyst newly transferred to the task force who happens to be related to a number through his daughter with whom she went to college with in London. Number 171: Yusuf Idowu, known as Ijapa (The Turtle in Yoruba). Head of one of the biggest drug cartel in Nigeria, moving mostly cocaine with growing importance in Europe, especially Southern Italy and the the Netherlands. He is stopping by the U.S.A as a neutral ground between him and some head of a Central American drug trafficking syndicate to hopefully begin a partnership. Ijapa's choice to increase foreign partnerships comes from a growing interest in establishing a certain hegemony in Nigeria, thus controlling the flow of drug in the Gulf of Guinea.

To Be Added.

Personality:: Not particularly eye catching, Judith carries a rather cold aura. She will deny having a resting bitch face but will admit that smiling doesn't come naturally to her. It's more so brought out of her, by people, by events. She makes herself irremarkable à la Clark Kent, camouflaging in what some would call 'basic' pieces of clothing and an inherent discretion. It's not that she can't make herself noticed if she so wills, no, she likes making herself a wallflower, quiet, forgettable. It allows her to leisurely observe others, she notices but only states so if she has a reason to. It makes her seem trustworthy to others too, capable of keeping secrets, of compartmentalising when it comes to her own emotions. Panic though, does silence her, takes away her voice and freezes her body for so very important seconds before she can get it back together. When interacting with others, she tends to be introverted though perfectly adequate in social settings, even drawing people to her, rarely out of her features but her achievements, her poise, her discourse, do stand out. She will happily entertain a heated conversation or trade barbs but has little interest in polite niceties and small talk at the coffee machine, rather quiet on the job. She consumes alcohol for the experience in terms of flavor, not particularly seeking the buzz and having a pretty good tolerance born out of downing a good chunk of shots in undergrad. Patient, she is able to enjoy the process of things, no matter how long and drawn out, no matter how frustrating on the moment. Curious, she is eager to learn, to pull things apart and get in there to figure it out but also to peek, to peep, to keep an open hear. She likes to have the in, to know what is happening in the room where it happens but pays little more than passing interest to what she believes is just gossip.

Backstory:: To Be Written.

[cloudybrews]

Tony Stark was sure he was dead. He was dying before, or at a point in time he was dying. And he was use to that. He was use to putting on face and keep going. It was the Stark way. It was Tony's way. Yet no matter how many times he got knocked down, he was back.

Tony right now, was sitting looking in front of him. His expression was.. unsure. Stuff happen, he almost died, and now he was... built different. LITERALLY

"Friday" he called out as he rolled in his chair. " Yess Boss" came a irish voice. It brought him comfort. Maybe not like Javis, but it gave him ... hope? " Pen in a 3 am watch cat videos on youtube," he mumble as he sighed running his hand through this need to be comb hair. " Boss, are you.." Tony cut her off as he finally notice someone walked into the room. " Please don't tell Pepper, or Happy or..."

[c0mplex-heroes]

where..? open starter: maggie rogers open to marvel muses/verses or modern too

Everything sounds muffled. Like she's both far away and too close all at once. Why is that? And why was everything so dark? It all felt so strange... Where was she?

But then she hears it clearly again... Someone was calling to her. No they were holding her, firmly but gently by the shoulder. She can feel it more clearly now. And with it comes the pain. The splitting pain that hit across her scalp.

Slowly the dark goes as she cracks open her eyes. A figure coming into focus slowly above her. "Eugh... Where-- where am I? What- what happened?"

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

🎄 Wrapped Up In Christmas Memories 🎄

a Stephen Strange Christmas fic

Chapter Two

genre: angst, catharsis, healing...and above all, love❤️💚

characters: Stephen Strange, Hope Collins (OFC); established relationship

word count: 1.9k

Reposting from last year as edits have been made on the way to finally completing this fic.⛄️🩵🎄

moodboard by @strangedreamings 💙🩵💜

The weeks ticked down towards Christmas, and Stephen remained as occupied with his work as in any other month of the year. And still Hope held steadfast to her promise to ask nothing but his tolerance as she rang the season in. Every few days, when he emerged from attending to his Sanctum duties or his ongoing studies, or returned from a far-flung mission or from Kamar-Taj itself, he would find she had added some new decoration or holiday detail, making not only his quarters, but the main floor as well, ever more festive. Her Artist's eye insured that she kept everything tasteful and in accord with the surroundings. Hope's latest addition had been an evergreen garland for the fireplace on the main floor, lit with colorful fairy lights and frosted candle holders of varying heights bearing ivory or red candles, nested along the greenery.

Whenever he complimented her newest handiwork, Hope would give a modest little shrug as she thanked him, moving onto the next subject of conversation without so much as a pause--though Stephen could absolutely feel how pleased she was. Thus, their equilibrium continued, and despite his ambivalence about the holiday season, he found himself quietly looking forward to each new surprise.

One such surprise was Hope's newfound dedication to attending the weekly vigil service each Saturday evening of Advent at a small Roman Catholic parish in Brooklyn. In their occasional discussions of philosophy and faith, she had given Stephen the impression that although she was lapsed from organized religion, Hope still held a true belief in a higher power. Indeed, he always saw her as a living example of the biblical maxim 'do unto others...'. And of course, she had understood and respected the beliefs he had come to hold about soul & spirit, and good & evil, based on his experiences and encounters with mystic realities.

In response to his curiosity on the first Saturday she shared her plans, Hope fell back on a familiar explanation. "It's a tradition that does my heart good to honor," she told him frankly. "It connects me to my family even when we're apart. With those who've passed on...and with past generations." He didn't miss the flicker of grief in her eyes and in the set of her mouth at her reference to those who had passed on, though soon enough, her honest smile replaced the sorrow. "Besides which, I love the music...the lights on the tree...the aroma of the incense they save for the most sacred moments. That sense of being one with a community of like-minded souls is vital to my experience of the Christmas season." Stephen found none of this surprising, for such was her nature, and part of the reason she had conquered his heart with no effort at all.

With a scant few weeks until Christmas Day, the Sanctum felt ripe with Hope's inimitable brand of holiday cheer. The sights, the scents, the flavors, and the very sounds that filled his rooms, became reminders of his own Christmases past, though Stephen refused to entertain those memories as he knew they'd only leave him morose.

Even the Sanctum kitchens had their own unique decorations, courtesy of some of Hope's grammar school-aged students; a couple dozen had given her handmade, crayon-colored Christmas cards and Tempera-painted winter scenes of snowmen and Santas, Angels and Christmas trees, or sledding and skating children, which found their way onto the walls and the refrigerators.

She'd even fashioned a miniature tree as a tabletop centerpiece, festooned with a popcorn & cranberry garland and a tiny paper chain of red & green construction paper loops. In a surprising moment of clarity, Stephen remembered the several years when he still believed in Santa Claus and had helped his mother create the same sort of decorations for their tree, and how excited he'd been counting down the days until Christmas morn. Memories of a simple happiness that he'd quite forgotten had been his. Gazing at Hope's little tree brought a warmth to his chest he would like to share with her - but he stopped himself each time, knowing full well that if he let that recollection bubble forth, it might open the gates to other memories not as pleasant.

Most evenings now found Hope settled on the sofa wrapping presents or penning personal greetings in Christmas cards, while her favorite Christmas movies played on television, setting what she considered the ideal mood. Stephen eventually ended up joining her some evenings, and once he took his place beside her, she very willingly set aside her project in favor of cuddling on the couch with him. He ended up adopting the habit of fixing them hot chocolate, and in Hope's homey company, he discovered that he didn't even mind the movies he'd once found trite and too sentimental since his undergraduate days. Besides, they made Hope happy--and her happiness had become key to his own.

On the 14th, Stephen was called to Kamar-Taj for an emergency meeting of all the Masters of the Sanctums and those in charge of the various disciplines. A rift in Earth's reality had opened inside the Kibo caldera of Mount Kilimanjaro, and whatever entities had worked that magic, it appeared they were trying to wake the dormant volcano into eruption. He only had time enough to fire off a cursory text to Hope, warning her he might be away for several days--and advising her not to worry. Then he was off to Tanzania, along with Wong and a dozen other Masters to beat back the incursion and seal the rift.

'Twas a grim Stephen that returned to the New York Sanctum just after midnight on December 17th. Hope was sound asleep, and he didn't have the heart to awaken her. He was sporting a split lip and multiple abrasions to his face, neck, and hands, and though he had been charm treated in the Kamar-Taj Infirmary, he still had a slight but nagging cough from smoke inhalation.

Yet he had gotten off more lightly than most of those who had to battle the dragonlike creatures that seemed to be ideally suited for a volcanic environment; that breathed fire and fought ferociously to maintain their foothold. Two Masters had fallen to their flames, and three more had suffered severe enough burns to be placed in magic induced comas while Healers worked around the clock to hasten the regeneration of new, healthy skin. Wong, who had suffered a broken wrist, bore the same sort of wounds as Strange and the other Masters did. Stephen was heartsick over the lost lives and the pain of his brothers & sisters, and his body ached all over.

Casting the Mirror Dimension on the master bath, he bundled up his rent robes and buried them deep in the hamper so Hope wouldn't see how badly they were damaged and bloodstained. Stephen had already repaired Cloak, and it had flitted off upon their return to the Sanctum to see to its own ablutions. He soaked in the tub of hot water and Epsom salt for nearly 90 minutes, trying to put the pictures frozen in his mind of the battle and the wounded behind him. Fearing that sleep would still elude him once he finally went to bed.

In the wee hours before sunrise, he slipped carefully and quietly between the sheets, and by some lovely instinct, Hope turned to him. She stirred a bit when he placed her hand above his heart--for he always found that soothing--and after a few moments she whispered, "Missed you, magic man. Is everything alright?"

Stephen sighed in the darkness, unwilling to disturb her peace with the truth, and murmured 'yes', and then, 'I missed you too'. What he wanted most was to forget everthing for a little while, and when she rested her head on his shoulder, he nuzzled the tender haven of her hair, focusing on Hope's softness until he was able to drift off the sleep.

Stephen rarely indulged in the luxury of sleeping in, but this day it had been a necessity. Though he felt physically refreshed when he finally left his bedroom, his spirit was all too weary, and he remained disconsolate in his very bones. No matter the season, he would've felt this way following the outcome on Kilimanjaro--but somehow looking at Hope's cheery holiday trimmings made it even worse. When he found her in the kitchen baking cookies, the sweet sight of her, so incongruous with the miasma he was lost in, prompted him to issue her a fair but regretful warning.

She had just moved a batch of cookies onto a wire rack to cool, then turned to greet him--but her smile faltered the moment she saw the misery on his face. "It went badly, then." Stephen nodded, and then she was sliding her arms beneath his, holding him tight, murmuring against his neck. "I'm so sorry, Stephen. Do you...do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head and simply held her close, grateful that she was his true and loving sanctuary. When they parted just a little, Stephen cleared his throat before speaking. "Hope...honey..." he began, cupping one hand against her cheek, "I really appreciate how patient you've been with me this past month. And I appreciate everything you've done to bring Christmas to our..." He paused when his voice cracked, taking a moment before continuing, "...to our home."

Empathetic as usual, Hope simply reached to cup his cheek in her hand, and he wished he could just let himself melt into the moment. "But I dunno if the miracle you're hoping for is gonna happen this year. The past few days were pretty rough and given that...and the ghosts of my Christmases past...well, I think it's best if you lower your expectations about the holiday. I don't want to disappoint you but...well...I'm not gonna be catching the Christmas spirit this year."

Hope sighed and turned her face enough to place a soft kiss on the base of his thumb. "It's alright, darling. I...I understand." She sighed and stood tall enough to kiss his mouth, then whispered against his lips, "Whatever you need, Stephen. However things go." She embraced him warmly, then moved enough so she could look him in the eyes. "I spent five Christmases wondering how things might have been if you had survived Thanos. I know what's most important to me now--so in the end, all I really want for Christmas is you."

Stephen managed a small but genuine smile. He had expected no less. Undaunted, Hope briskly changed the subject. "How about I fix you some lunch and you go unwind with some mindless television? I'll bring it right to you."

"Actually, there's a little something I want to take a look at in my study...if you don't mind too much..."

"Of course, of course," she answered gamely, then swatted him softly on his way, "Gourmet grilled cheese and tomato soup are the special today, and the only tip I require is a couple dozen kisses."

"You can add those to my tab, honey," Stephen chuckled, then headed down the hall to his study, grateful for the distraction which he knew awaited him on his desk. Getting lost for a little while in a recently discovered manuscript might be exactly what he needed to get through the day.

If you enjoyed this little fic so far, you can read more about how Stephen & Hope met and fell in love in my stories 'Friday in the Park with Stephen' (meet-cute, flirtation & fluff), and 14,000,604 (hurt/comfort, angst, passion/smut, lovers reunited against impossible odds).

In addition, I've written a couple of one-shots/prompt fills as part of their ongoing series, The Wizard and the Artist. These works can be found both on tumblr and on AO3.

[txrturedpoets]

Hiii this is new for me but I’m joining tumblr roleplay. My current muses vary, but if you are interested please message me! I’ll tag the fandoms Imm in and we can talk more that’s all

Admin: ariana/ari (18)

Timezone: EST

Here are my muses:

Tanya Pavlova (singer OC)

Will Byers (Stranger Things)

Nancy Wheeler (Stranger Things)

Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)

Padmé Amidala (Star Wars)

Jaina Skywalker (Star Wars OC)

Rachel Greene (Friends/Sitcoms)

Joey Tribbiani (Friends/Sitcoms)

Viktor Nikiforov (Yuri On Ice)

Will Graham (Hannibal)

Hannibal Lecter (Hannibal)

Cosmo the Space Dog (Marvel/MCU)

Katya Chernova (Marvel/MCU OC)

Mantis (Marvel/MCU)

Peggy Carter (Marvel/MCU)

Doctor Stephen Strange (Marvel/MCU)

Anya (Anastasia/Disney)

Cinderella (Disney)

Aurora (Disney)

Aladdin (Disney)

Regulus Black (Harry Potter)

Harry Potter (Harry Potter)

Ron Weasley (Harry Potter)

Light Yagami (Deathnote)

Glinda (Broadway)

Eliza Schuyler (Broadway)

[possuminabathtub]

[oozeyboozey-archive]

LITTLE GIRL GONE , GOT A GUNT FROM A GANGSTER. run little girl , run little girl , faster. little girl gone , got a gun from a gangster. HONEY , I'VE CHANGE SO MUCH SINCE I LAST SAW YA.

TSARVOINY is a private , mutual exclusive roleplay blog for original muse ANASTASIA BARNES with a main verse in a custom marvel verse , and a focus on verses in fandoms such as . . . supernatural , stranger things , star wars , dc , and other fandoms where criminals & hunters thrive. mun & muse are 30+ , must be 21+ to interact. personal blogs dni.

penned by jj.

[karimac]

I’m really getting to the point where I’m not sure why my writing has stalled.

RL, is, as always, a crap shoot.

Work is being its worky little self.

Sleep? Hello? Sleep? Where are you?

My main muse is running after Valentina Allegra De Fontaine at the moment, and her shard is trying to not get too much in Deadpool’s brain.

Right now likely isn’t the perfect time to make major decisions about my time writing on Tumblr, but maybe I should just push the keyboard to the side and call it a day? Not like I’ve been consistent anyway.