#A Strange Server

[a-strange-server]

🦋 Strange Tales Of Halloween 2024 👻

It’s finally happening! The most awaited server event makes its yearly appearance! Can you believe it’s our third time?! Here’s to participation in whatever form you desire, let’s be strange together and make some spooky things!

Anyway, as our baby event grows, this year we decided to make one significant change: instead of lasting a whole month, the event is set during the last 2 weeks of October.

Brief info:

The event is set between 18–31 October 2024

We are open to all forms of creativity (fics, art, gifs, etc.) 🦋

42 prompts to choose from (2 types: words & sentences); 3 daily prompts

The main rule — works centred around Stephen Strange

Tag with #strangehalloween2024, so we can reblog on our Tumblr

If applicable, submit in our dedicated ao3 collection

Art by @unnnamedidiot with permission to use for the event. Show your support and reblog their amazing art!

We hope that you will once again have fun with Strange Tales of Halloween, whether by active participation or enjoyment of the contributions! Please remember to show your appreciation in comments, reblogs, kudos, etc. We encourage you to let others know that you like someone’s work! The fandom and its growing content exists because we want to be there, engaging with another. This is what allows Strange Tales of Halloween to be organised each year — you never disappoint by asking about said event!

🎃 Prompt list, FAQ & rules can be found bellow the line:

Prompt List

Friday 18 October — Bedtime story | Basement | Potion

Saturday 19 October — Claws | Whispers | “Follow me”

Sunday 20 October — Lies | Trick or treat | Zombies

Monday 21 October — Abandoned mansion | Scarecrow | “I don’t take orders from a cat”

Tuesday 22 October — Web | Cloak | Vampire

Wednesday 23 October — Spell book | Horns | “Stay still, or I’ll chop your hand off!”

Thursday 24 October — Candle | Wanderer | Shadow

Friday 25 October — Stars | Ruckus | “Say, weren’t you the one playing that creepy tune earlier?" "…I thought that was _you_.”

Saturday 26 October — Screams | Sacrifice | Poison

Sunday 27 October — Morbid curiosity | Wings | “Well, that’s a nifty spell!”

Monday 28 October — Summoning | Buried (alive) | Angel

Tuesday 29 October — Smile | Kingdom | “Are you speaking Latin?" "Why, aren’t _you_?”

Wednesday 30 October — Deal | Pumpkin (Spice Latte / Carving) | Demon

Thursday 31 October — Full Moon Party | Halloween | “Don’t mind them, they’re in the wardrobe.”

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FAQ & rules 2024

1. What must be included in the content of a filled prompt?

Stephen Strange (any version of him: film, TV, or comics etc.) must be either the main or co-main character. Otherwise, anything goes!

2. Can I still take part in the event even if I ship Stephen with someone?

Well, that can be a bit tricky, but generally — yes, you can. We’d prefer to not having Stephen or the other character(s) being there for the sole purpose of shipping, but we’re not against shipping during the event, as long as it all resolves to showing the story or whatever you come up with, that regardless of the dynamic or chosen relationship (platonic, romantic, familial etc.), in the end, it is about Doctor Stephen Strange.

An established relationship, first meeting, or getting together could be allowed if shipping isn’t the driving force behind writing a prompt (yes, of course you can be wanting to have them together, but the thing is — dig harder. Romantic content is a given within the fandom, but the fandom also needs General content! Or/and especially good whumping or angst, or a detective story, an unique AU etc. There are a lot of interesting prompts, so it’s a very good opportunity to try something new or different.

3. What must be included in the tags of posts?

Use the hashtag #strangehalloween2024. Add either into description or a tag the prompts you use (or both). On Tumblr, please include additional tags for NSFW (or NSFT meaning Not Safe For Tumblr) and common triggers (see AO3 for examples). The triggers apply to SFW works if necessary.

4. When can I post my prompt fill(s)?

In the spirit of the theme, these should be posted between 18–31 October 2024. Any strict rules don’t really exist, but we'd prefer if you post prompts the day they were chosen to be posted, e.g. one of the prompts from Saturday 26 October (Screams | Sacrifice | Poison) on said Saturday or after it if you're late, but not eatlier (not on Oct. 20). Don’t worry if you won’t be able to fulfil something on time, you can always participate even if fashionably late. We’d still add it to the ao3 collection or reblog on Tumblr if we see it.

5. Where on the discord server do I post my submissions?

In our gallery for the event in #strange-halloween. It’s for submitting your finished works. Even if it's fanfiction or something that would usually go into art channels, this event is an exception.

Reminder: said channel is not for casual talking, not even about the event, there’s a separate thread within the channel for that.

If your work happens to be NSFW, the usual rules apply: post those into NSFW channels. But if you want, you can write a message in #strange-halloween channel to tell others that you have created something, and point to the appropriate channel.

6. What medium can I use?

Anything! Written prose, poetry, gifsets, mood boards, artwork, playlists, you can even cook or bake something! Make a figurine, crochet something, do a scrapbooking thing, do a cosplay, make a board game, or a quiz. An app for a phone. A game, a collage. Anything goes. All it has to do is to follow the main rule of the event — being about Stephen Strange. No Stephen? No contribution in this one, sorry. So, all is acceptable as a prompt fill. It's all about Stephen Strange in any form he comes in.

7. Can I combine different prompts into one submission (e.g.: Wednesday 23 October Spell book | Horns | “Stay still, or I’ll chop your hand off!” + an earlier/later one) ?

Sure!

8. There are 3 prompts per day. Do I have to do it all?

No. You can do whichever one you want. But if you want to do all no one would be stopping you.

9. Can I use your prompt list with other prompt lists/bingo cards?

Absolutely! Combine it with any other event you'd like to do.

10. Are there any limits to how many prompts I can use/have to use?

Nope! Participate with one or all 42 items! Do as much as you'd like!

11. I’m a bit confused about some prompts; what are the brackets for?

The prompts that have a word in the brackets or also a slash within are the ones where you can be a bit creative (and cheat the system to have more prompts if you try enough), e.g.:

Monday 28 Oct — there's Buried as a prompt. You can use just that word or include the one in the brackets to have Buried alive. Technically, you could also try a different way and get rid of the first one and only have Alive.

Wednesday 30 Oct — we have the prompt Pumpkin so either use this singular word or use the suggested ones to get a Pumpkin Spice Latte, or another option which is Pumpkin Carving!

So, you can either completely omit the additionally suggested words or not. Have fun!

12. I’m not a native English speaker, can I make something in my native language or the one I'm trying to learn?

Of course, there are no limitations. The more, the merrier! Any contribution is valid.

🦇 🎃 👻 🦋 Any other questions? Feel free to send an ask to this tumblr. We can't wait to see what you come up with!

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Have a great spooky time! 🦋🎃🦋

[mckiwi]

Strange Tales of Halloween

Hosted by A Strange Server. Each prompt will be treated as a daily journal entry written by Stephen Strange.

On AO3

Beginning<<< Prev< >Next

Prompt: Candles

Thursday, October 24th, 2024

I woke up, in bed this time thankfully, but my mood was immediately dampened when I found the Cloak had wax on themselves again. 

This time, however, I was smart and asked where the Cloak got the wax from. They led me over to one of the meditation areas. 

Someone left candles. Lit. 

Melted wax. 

EVERYWHERE. 

I didn’t have waxing the floors on my priority list, but I guess that’s what today’s plan is now. As I write this, we’re taking a break. I rounded together a few apprentices and we finished cleaning the meditation area fairly quickly, but then it looked stupid for one room to be waxed and not the others, so we did that as well. Now that we’ve started, might as well do the whole building, so we’ve made a day of it. The Cloak still has wax all over them. I’m not even going to bother scraping all that off until the entire building is done being waxed. 

Volviéndose loco,

-S

[strangefaninastrangeland]

Cat's cradle – Strange Tales Of Halloween 2024 – Prompt: several ;)

A/N: A light story with some creepy elements for the season. Beta by the wonderful @hayanwulf. Prompts from the event Strange Tales Of Halloween 2024 @a-strange-server: Claws | “I don’t take orders from a cat.” | Shadow | Demon | Halloween

Stephen deserved a cup of hot tea, with a little honey. Actually, make it a lot of honey: today had been a fruitful day full of successful ghost hunting. The celebratory tea wasn’t meant to be, apparently: he felt a growing tension in the Sanctum, heavy enough to make him stop in his tracks on his way to the kitchen. It suddenly transitioned into something alarming, and Stephen turned toward the corridor of seldom-used practice rooms, trying to place the origin of the feeling. His pace quickened with every step until he was running full-tilt for the last few feet.

He came to an abrupt halt. The door to one of the practice rooms opened wide at his presence, as if welcoming him. Yet the feeling of the room was anything but welcoming. The unpleasant hum he had felt in his breastbone earlier became audible now. The light streaming from the open door pulsed in a staccato rhythm, conducive to a piercing headache. He faced it all head-on.

The room was filled with a complicated latticework of flashing strands of energy, crisscrossing the space like intangible strings. At the center, where many of the lines converged to form a luminescent nexus, stood a familiar human shape.

Stephen groaned. It was not a whine.

“America? What is this supposed to be?” His voice was calm, given the circumstances, with just a hint of tension.

“Stephen? It hurts!”

The cry for help spurred Stephen into action. He took in the scene again, trying to make sense of it, but the complex spell had barely any parts he recognized. He had to rely on his instincts. He reached out mentally and grasped the wavering energy lines. He straightened, flicked his hands and pulled a fistful of the pulsing strands to himself, forcing the terrible harsh light into a bearable glow.

He was able to discern more of the novice now—her desperate grimace and glowing eyes, her hands grabbing at the energy lines trembling in a way that made Stephen’s look steady. The room still looked just as confusing as before: the short bursts of light should have created sharply outlined shadows on the walls, but instead an indistinct mass like heavy smoke swirled menacingly around America’s feet.

Stephen hooked the strands with his will, like strings over fingers, pulling and twisting them into new patterns. He wanted to reduce the complexity and slowly dissolve the spell, but it had a mind of its own, refusing to cooperate.

America adjusted her footing and loosened her grip on the strands. The lattice moved into a star shape and held it for a moment, and Stephen snatched at the chance. He delicately tugged at a knot, taking over from America seamlessly and turning the tangle into a simple frame.

In turn, the shadowy mass erupted around America, streamed toward the ceiling through the spell-frame, doused its light, then dropped down in the furthest corner. It had taken on a somewhat more solid shape now.

Stephen squinted.

“It’s a cat.”

“It’s a demon!” whispered America breathlessly. “Look at the glowing eyes… And the black fangs… It’s a shadow demon, it’s come to tear out our souls!”

“Kid,” whispered back Stephen in exasperation, “stop being melodramatic!” He was, of course, aware of the irony of him requesting this.

The cat-demon-shadow creature used his momentary distraction to leap at his face, use it as a springboard, and somersault out of the open door into the dark corridor. Its claws left burning streaks of pain behind. Excellent. Lifting his trembling hand to his face, carefully avoiding pressure on the injury, Stephen turned to America.

“Now would be a good time to quickly summarize what this was supposed to be?”

~~~

America was one of the more bearable people visiting for Sanctum duty. She was funny, self-reliant, knew no fear (or at least, little fear), and only needed to be told what to do once, maybe twice—unlike most of the lot. The downside was that she had little to no fear of Stephen, and her self-reliance combined with her inventiveness could lead to situations like the current one.

“So, you integrated several summoning and shadow shaping spells into the Harridan Rites. But to what purpose again?”

“I wanted to decorate for Samhain, as a surprise for you. With moving shadows.”

“Since when does one decorate with shadows for Samhain? Is carving turnip lamps and weaving hawthorn wreaths not enough? Admit it, you wanted to make it spookier for Halloween…”

America made a face of unbelieving, falsely accused innocence. She had mentioned being curious about Halloween earlier, when Stephen had given her the short, requisite orientation upon her arrival at the Sanctum. But that was in the morning, just before heading out, and he had been too preoccupied with reducing the hauntings in his assigned area to pay it enough mind.

They were scouring the Sanctum up and down for the escaped shadow creature. Almost an hour went by with no success. The Sanctum itself remained frustratingly uncooperative. The feeling of danger had disappeared completely. The Cloak showed up only to trail after the two of them for a few minutes, then slipped away wherever without helping. Stephen would remember this when it came to brushing time.

After running around futilely, Stephen decided to turn this into a learning opportunity for America. He showed her the wards against intruders in the Observation Room and demonstrated how to run an active check on the Sanctum. He knew it would be of no use for detecting the creature. If the wards didn’t alert him and the Sanctum didn’t guide him to the source of danger, there was, from a magical point of view, no danger. At least no greater one than what always lurked in the Sanctum.

As evening turned into night, America began to flag. Stephen checked her again for residual malignant energies and found her clear for the third time. So, he sent her back to the dorm in Kamar-Taj.

“Are you sure, Stephen? Shouldn’t I stay with you? It’s not safe to be alone like this. The demon could attack you again any minute now.”

“It’s a cat, America. And although I appreciate your concern, your respect would be more welcome in this case.”

“Notice how I’m not speaking in Spanish. Out of respect to you and your ignorance.”

“Your consideration fills me with awe.”

“And gratitude?”

“No, para nada.”

America laughed and turned back from the Kamar-Taj Gateway for a quick hug. Stephen let her prevail. He even managed to untense a smidge.

America let go of him and seemed to hesitate a bit before speaking up. “Thank you for coming and untangling the mess I made. I only kept my control because I knew you would help me.”

“No need to thank me. But you’ll consult me before trying something innovative again, won’t you?”

“I will. I’m sorry. For being reckless. And also for getting you hurt. And releasing a demon in the Sanctum.”

“Oh, get out of here already!” Stephen grinned.

America left with a crooked smile and a small wave. Stephen made his way to the bathroom connected to his bedroom and took out a disinfectant from the medicine cabinet. The burning sensation on the right side of his face came from the three neat, parallel lines torn into his cheek. Not too deep, thankfully. But why was it always his cheeks? A mystery.

~~~

The next morning started bright and early. It was research day, finally! Stephen went to the Sanctum library to gather the next books on his list. He even made sure to put some aside for America, that fit her new interest in the holidays of this universe. He piled his bounty on his study table, brought snacks and tea, set up additional alarms on top of the usual ones, and dove in.

During the day, whenever he resurfaced, he heard unfamiliar sounds, reminiscent of the patter of paws, claws clicking and scratching. To stretch his legs, he went into the kitchen to prepare more tea by hand and was greeted by a strong, unfamiliar odor. Splendid. Hopefully, the thing didn’t mark up his scant supplies.

The food was untampered with, but a quick check on the astral critter population showed a decrease in the bigger ones. That was all right by Stephen—he wasn’t enamored with the vampiric blobs and the book-eating giant insects anyway. What he also wasn’t fond of though were the remains of the critters (some venomous fangs and spindly, barbed legs) he found under his study table.

The scratches on the chair legs didn’t faze him: the Sanctum had some excellent self-healing furniture, and should it prove reticent, Stephen had some mending spells he wanted to try. They would be a good choice to teach America next time as well. It could keep her occupied and out of trouble.

All in all, the cat was doing cat things. And yes, it was a cat in every way that mattered. Stephen knew cats. He had grown up with several cats—barn cats, to be precise—until he left his family, and with it, his childhood behind. They had practically raised him in many ways. Stephen was aware that this statement, should he share it, invited jokes—how, even if he wasn’t raised by wolves but by cats, it still explained a lot about him. But the barn cats were very well socialized.

In the afternoon, the event Stephen had felt was inevitably coming but had deliberately kept out of his mind occurred: a visit from Wong.

“Are those empty plates beside the Tome of Crystal Foci?” Wong asked.

Stephen made a quick gesture to send the plates to the kitchen and turned a composed face toward Wong, calm as they come.

“Wong! A fine day to visit. What can I do for you?” There was no need to address the pertinent topic any sooner than necessary.

“America says you are harboring a dangerous shadow demon in the Sanctum.” Ah, leave it to Wong to get straight to the crux of the matter without any polite nonsense. He also looked pretty harried, if Stephen was honest. His usually impeccably tied belts were a bit loose, and his hair was standing up more than usual. But he wouldn’t thank Stephen for going easy on him, now would he?

“Harboring? Her exact words, I’m sure.” Maintain a poker face. There was nothing extraordinary here.

“You also didn’t really chastise her for the unsupervised experimentation.”

“That also sounds like something America would say. ‘Stephen didn’t chastise me, Wong, please go and chastise him.’ Very likely.”

“No, she used more colorful expressions and less insolence. Look, Stephen. America feels very guilty. And she’s also worried about you.”

“That kid has a terrible sense for what constitutes danger.”

“You are one to talk. What she described is dangerous, Stephen. Let’s not speak about how you left America to her own devices—”

“—I had been assigned to ghost hunting!—” yelped Stephen. How unjust was it to double-schedule him and make it out to be his fault!

“—and let’s only evaluate the summoned entity. Made up of shadows, obviously a predator—”

“It’s a cat!” Stephen threw in, exasperatedly.

“Regardless of its cat-like shape, the Harridan Rites work with demonic energies. As you well know. Don’t make this face at me. This face contains bloody marks, Stephen, not very effective to convince me the entity is harmless.”

“I never claimed it was harmless. But it isn’t all that dangerous either. The Sanctum would know; I would know. It’s been hunting the letter bugs. You of all people would appreciate that, wouldn’t you?”

“So, it’s killing already?”

“Bugs! And such like! Come on, Wong.”

“…Such like. I see. We’ll have the next magical extermination seminar in the New York Sanctum, it looks like.”

“No! Not a seminar! I’ll catch it and show it to you, all right? Nobody else needs to be inconvenienced!” Stephen rushed out. He sat up very straight and proper, every bit the responsible sorcerer and Sanctum Master.

Wong stared at him blankly. Then he seemed to crumple. He sighed and sat down, pulling out one of Stephen’s teacups from its hiding place behind a grimoire and drinking all its contents in one big gulp.

“Stephen, I’m not doing this to torture you.”

“I know.”

“I’m worried. And rightfully so.”

“I know. You don’t need to be, but I know, and I’ll do my due diligence. Honestly.”

“Before Samhain? Shadows grow stronger and stronger in this area until then, you know that as well.”

“No worries, Wong. I know cats and also shadows.”

~~~

Stephen knew cats and also shadows. He obviously didn’t know shadow cats of the demonic variety. The creature evaded every last attempt to capture it. Traps were left unsprung. Stakeouts were unsuccessful. He only caught sight of it a handful of times, as it darted from dark corners to other secluded places. It seemed to grow in size at a steady rate. On one memorable occasion, it appeared from under his bed after he had spent every free minute searching for it and desperately needed a power nap. It blended into the shadows of his bedside table and vanished. Stephen had to work through his adrenaline response with some extra breathing exercises.

Sadly, the Cloak was performing below their usual level of competence. They were more diligent in helping Stephen with his manual dexterity exercises than in assisting during the hunt. Novices were forbidden to come and help out for the time being, because of the supposed danger. Everyone above their rank was busier than ever, as this period fell between mystically significant times that various cultures associated with the harvest and the border between life and death. Stephen was alone with this task, and he was getting a bit miffed.

~~~

Stephen woke with a start in the middle of the night. Luminescent eyes greeted him so close to his face that he had difficulty focusing. He lurched into motion, clapped his hands, and snapped out glowing tendrils from between them—only for them to trail uselessly in the darkness of his bedroom. With a wave of his hand, the candles flared up, their light revealing the cat sitting in the open doorway. Its shape was blurred by the shadowy mist swirling around it. The creature had grown even larger, now about the size of a panther. Not that size mattered in these things.

To Stephen, it still appeared to be a cat, with pointed ears like black flames and yellow eyes. Its sharp black teeth were permanently on display though, as it had no lips to draw back. The mist reminded Stephen of swishing tails and seemed to express an almost palpable disdain.

It blinked slowly. Stephen blinked back to communicate friendliness. It turned around, looking back at him, its expectant attitude clear despite its smoky shape and perpetually menacing face.

“Don’t tell me there’s a little Timmy somewhere. With a well… Or did you perhaps prepare a mousetrap for me?” Not expecting an answer, Stephen stood up, spelled his sorcerer’s garb on, and stepped out into the corridor after the cat.

The Sanctum was silent, and no suspicious movement in the mystical energies caught Stephen’s attention. The cat, as was its wont, dissolved into the shadows. Still, something was afoot. Stephen decided to visit the Observation Room again, where several wards were anchored for easier monitoring. He turned left, and after just a few steps, the cat's form coalesced before him, blocking the width of the corridor imperiously and forbidding him to go any further. A low hiss served as a warning.

“I don’t take orders from a cat.”

The hiss grew into a distinctly uncatlike, unearthly sound, as if it were rattling from many throats, with higher tones mixed in. The rattling and whistling reminded Stephen of the old teakettle his college roommate had. Its faulty valve had produced a very similar sound. That kettle had been a health hazard, just like this cat.

Stephen took a few steps backward, keeping his eyes on the aggravating beast. The rattling shifted into hissing before fading into silence. After a few tense moments, he decided to collect more data on the cat’s behavior. He turned around and began to walk away, ready to duck at a moment’s notice. The cat glided past him, somehow using both the walls and the floor, which unsettled him even more. It stopped at the end of the corridor, blinked at him again, and slipped around the corner.

After a few false turns, guided by the cat, Stephen finally stepped into the foyer. The Cloak came hurtling from one of the side passages and settled onto his shoulders.

“Now you show up? Where have you been? Sniffing at the laundry again?”

The Cloak slapped his calf, clearly not appreciating his humor.

Stephen peered suspiciously down the stairs into the corridor leading to the Kamar-Taj Gateway, where a wisp of dark mist was just seeping away. He then lifted into the air and slowly descended.

He had barely touched down before the Gateway activated. The double doors beyond its surface swung open, revealing a crowd of people on the other side, all clad in gray and white. They moved frantically and in a disorganized manner, jostling one another as they backed away from something out of Stephen's sight. Though the general clamor was muted, their sense of urgency was unmistakable.

One person from the crowd stepped up to the door frame and locked eyes with Stephen. It was America, both a relief and a cause for the worry already churning in Stephen’s gut to intensify. She shouted to the others, prompting them to move toward the Gateway. At first, only the nearest two responded; then the Novices further back in the Hall of Agamotto’s Orb turned and hurried through to Stephen. They brought with them frantic energy, panicked shouting, and the acrid smell of fire and smoke.

Stephen flattened himself against the wall and raised his voice over the cacophony: “Go on through! Step out into the foyer! No need to shove each other, but make space!”

The people seemed to listen, their panic lessening, though the cramped corridor was slow to empty. America was the last to run through, having waved the others forward. She hastily described a fire of unknown origin laying waste to the practice courtyard, the novices' dorms, and the refectory, seemingly burning stone and wood alike. Its strength and unpredictability both made Stephen suspect a magical source.

“What about the others?” Stephen glanced at the still-open Gateway, keenly aware of the ongoing threat. He saw no movement, only thickening smoke. The refugees slowly shuffled along in the relative safety of the Sanctum corridor.

It turned out that the few Apprentices who were supposed to keep an eye on the Novices in the morning were unaccounted for. As far as America knew, everyone else had left Kamar Taj on missions. She and a few others tried to round up everyone they could, but some must have fled into Kathmandu, and the smoke and heat prevented her group from going after them. Few of them had sling rings, and those didn’t seem to work, so they retreated to the permanent gateways instead. At first, all three were locked, but then the one to New York opened, and here they were. Stephen’s stomach clenched at her words. He wanted to step through himself to help, but leaving the refugees alone would be irresponsible and… The decision was taken away from him as the Gateway closed and didn’t open at his prodding. It was locked.

Swallowing a sense of trepidation, Stephen clapped America on the shoulder, muttered a ‘Good job!’, and sent her to guide the novices from the foyer to a conference room to evaluate injuries. As he moved to herd the remaining refugees further into the Sanctum, he was suddenly forced to a halt: the shadow cat had dropped down from the ceiling. It let out an eerie shriek, making the earlier rattling sound seem like a calming melody in comparison. In an instant, the cat’s shadowy form filled the narrow passage to safety, completely blocking the way. The Sanctum behind it was shrouded in darkness. Only two stragglers remained with Stephen, trapped between the Gateway and the shadow creature.

Stephen didn’t hesitate. He leapt forward, wedging himself between the cat and the two Novices—a young boy and a middle-aged woman in heavily singed practice robes. Both looked terrified beyond measure, clutching each other’s hands tightly.

Stephen spread his arms wide, ensuring the Novices remained safely behind his back.

“What’s the matter with you? Let us through now! There’s no need for violence,” Stephen rasped, his throat raw from the bitter smoke that had clung to the refugees. While he intended to stall, he also conjured his shields.

But the creature wasn’t interested in his reasoning or his measly protection. It flowed around him, seeping into his robes, into his skin. His breath hitched, yet the terror he should have felt was muted, as if behind a heavy curtain. Was the creature suppressing his natural emotional responses? He tried to clench his hands, to no avail. It was definitely affecting his motor control. His cognitive functions—his ability to think—seemed to remain his own.

Abruptly, the shadows turned his body, and he found himself now facing the boy and the woman. He saw the smoky shadow waft from his mouth and his nose, and swirl in the hollows of his eyes. An incongruous thought struck him, trying to elicit an inappropriate laugh but not succeeding: what a spooky apparition he must be now, with shadows pooling over his eyes—America’s shadow decoration taken to the extreme. His determination didn’t waver. As long as he had control over his mind, he retained some control over his magic. He would not succumb to this creature. He would not harm his charges.

Suddenly, and bloodcurdlingly, the third eye in the middle of his forehead burst open unexpectedly, shattering his illusion of control. The drab, ashen-faced figures before him turned into a bonfire of roiling colors—forest green and dirty blue for both of them, with pale yellow in addition for the woman.

Then he saw it. Both feet of the boy and the sole of the woman's left foot were a disturbing red, with drips traveling upward, glowing like embers and consuming the colors surrounding their bodies. They must have come into contact with something malicious and highly dangerous. Maybe they had tripped into the magical cause of the fire.

“Step out of your shoes and step back,” he growled. It seemed the creature was relinquishing at least some control back to him.

The boy obeyed instantly, stepping on his own heel to kick off his trainers while tugging on the hand of the woman—his sister, or maybe mother. His trembling was evident even through Stephen’s altered vision. Finally, she broke free from her stupor and did the same. They both backed away hastily.

The redness stayed with the shoes. Good. Now something to contain it, and quickly. Stephen lifted his arms of his own volition and slapped the Cage of Dorian—a half-sphere of amber light—over the shoes. It was a fruitless endeavor. The red glow grew, shattered Stephen’s hold, and formed into a monster shrouded in flame lunging at him. He grabbed his Cloak, sent them to rescue the novices trapped behind the creature, and conjured his Eldritch Blade in a smooth motion.

The shadow cat left his body with a throaty rumble, snapping his third eye shut again.

The whoosh of displacement tugged Stephen forward and to the side, giving the creature one last chance to exert control over his body. He let the movement carry him to the corridor’s wall and slashed his blade upward in a controlled arc.

The fire monster sent a whip of flames after him, the weapon's tendrils writhing like living things. Stephen ducked and continued his swing. His blade tore a gash into the monster's blackened wing. It threw its head to the side, its twisted horn barely missing Stephen’s shoulder.

The shadow cat sprang at the fire monster’s back, then lost its catlike form completely, twisted around its torso, and squeezed in a clear attempt to fight it. Though it was unable to douse the flames, it provided a few precious seconds for the Cloak to abscond with the novices and for Stephen to seal the corridor behind them. Turning back to look into the fire being’s eyes, which burned with ancient, malevolent intelligence, Stephen knew this might be his last fight. He only hoped he could buy enough time for the others to find help.

~~~

Fighting in close quarters was not Stephen’s greatest strength. It was more luck than design that enabled him to keep the monster from burning him to cinders. The minutes stretched out painfully, and he struggled to keep his footing. He managed to slice off one of its horns, destroy its whips, and reduce the heat it emanated enough that the floor beneath its feet was no longer melting. But he had reached his limit, and the monster wasn’t slowing down or weakening at all. The flames that enveloped its body were still deadly.

Despite his small victories, Stephen was still losing, and he knew he couldn't hold on much longer. He forced down the familiar sense of dread.

The shadow, diminished in size by now, threw itself with abandon against the intruder again and again. It managed to latch on to its maw, occupying its attention, and Stephen retreated a few steps, his breath coming in short gasps.

The heat was unbearable, and the air was probably thinner than was healthy for Stephen. Normal flames would have already grown smaller due to a lack of oxygen… probably. But these weren’t normal flames.

There was a thought, though! If Stephen could find the mystical equivalent of the oxygen the monster’s fire needed and block it... By lowering the flames or even extinguishing them, the monster could become vulnerable. He felt his resolve strengthen.

The idea barely took form in Stephen’s mind before the monster tore the shadow into pieces, leaving him no more time to plan. He threw everything he could think of at the snarling face coming for him, trying to smother the flames. He conjured various liquids—or rather, summoned them from the Sanctum's hidden storages. He coated it with the shimmering dust that fell from one of the relics originating from Egypt, said to interfere with connections to several dimensions. Nothing helped.

In his desperation, there was only one last thing he could think of: use up everything, like drawing out the air from the area or igniting a backfire would do in the case of a normal fire. He vaulted into the corner at the Kamar-Taj Gateway, cupped his hand, and called up the Dissolution Matrix. He hurtled it at the monster’s back.

The Matrix opened up like a bloom, transforming everything it could in the small room. It sucked up every kind of energy Stephen had inscribed in it—including the ambient radiation of his life force. The implications were clear: he would lose consciousness, and soon.

The flames on the monster’s limbs were the first to flicker and die. It thrashed about, thumping against the walls and roaring as if in pain. Stephen squeezed himself further into the corner to avoid its flailing, protecting his head with his arms.

The last thing Stephen saw before losing consciousness was the final flames extinguishing on the monster’s head, a small shadow tearing into its writhing form through its howling maw, exiting through its nape and then dispersing into nothing, and the Matrix erupting into blue butterflies.

~~~

There was a commotion outside his door. Stephen sat cross-legged on his bed, eyeing his lightly twitching hands. His left one was burned. He seriously contemplated numbing it from the elbow down—but that was just him whining. The damage was superficial.

He sighed heavily, only to regret it when the movement tugged at the bandages over his shoulder. Burns there as well. The whole room reeked of the burn salve America had generously swathed on him before another novice covered his wounds with sterile dressing and gauze. At least none of the burns were serious enough to require a hospital visit.

The commotion became too loud to ignore, so Stephen slid his legs over the side of the bed, though he didn't get up. After awakening among the rubble from the fight, he had activated the Gateway to Kamar-Taj—thankfully, it worked again. He had unsealed the corridor, let America drag him into the foyer, opened portals to the other Sanctums, checked in with the Masters, asked for aid, and finally given in to the novices' pleading, allowing them to provide medical aid. Only then had he left America in charge, assigning the Cloak as her second in command, and taken shelter in his room. There were too many people in the Sanctum.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, wishing hard that whatever it was would just go away, he felt his shoulders droop in relief when Wong stepped in.

“Wong! You are taking care of the novices, aren’t you?”

“The novices are well and are happily exploring the Sanctum,” Wong said matter-of-factly.

“You're a true comedian, Wong. I hope they keep to the approved areas.” The Sanctum wasn’t alerting Stephen to anything alarming, but it was also occupied with repairs. Who knew what could slip under the radar, so to speak.

“America is riding herd over them,” Wong said as he pulled an armchair across from Stephen and sat down.

“Good. What happened in Kamar-Taj? Where did the real-life version of a stunted Balrog come from?”

Wong grimaced and rubbed a hand over his already spiky hair. “Remnants of chaos energy, hidden in a mirror, all this time. After getting out, it spread quickly, and it warped the dimensional energies enough to prevent travel. We don’t know yet what managed to overcome its influence long enough to open the way here. It could have been your presence. But it prevented casualties, thank the Vishanti. The loss is already great enough. A lot of what we had barely rebuilt is destroyed or marred beyond use.”

Stephen didn’t know what to say. There was probably nothing that could be said. He could, however, distract Wong from his woes for a bit. “You know, the shadow cat you all have been so suspicious of? It warned us. It also fought for us, to its own detriment. It killed the chaos entity in the end and then vanished.”

“I heard it from America and Ms. Shaiwan. What happened after you sealed yourself in, Stephen?”

Stephen made a laconic report in the original sense. He began with the wake-up call from the cat, summarized the situation, listed what worked and what didn’t against the chaos entity, and gave a brief roundup of the injuries and lost resources in the New York Sanctum.

“This method of yours deserves further investigation, but well done.” This was a rare word of almost-praise from Wong. “I've been thinking about your shadow cat as well, Stephen. I looked up a few things about the original spell constellation. It required some key components that America had left out, and I suspect it got them from you. You gave form to the shadow entity she had called up.”

“Sounds plausible.”

Wong allowed a small smile to show. “It imprinted on you. Looks like you have catlike tendencies.”

“Of course I have them. Anyone with healthy boundaries should.” Cats were very assertive creatures in Stephen’s experience.

“Luckily for us, you’ve also internalized the role of a protector. That’s why you shaped a protector-cat shadow being.”

“It’s more likely that it imprinted on me at the moment of its embodiment, when the main purpose in my mind was to protect America and the Sanctum,” Stephen said dryly.

“That works as well.” Wong stood up, stretched his back, and groaned. “Now, use your time to convalesce, Stephen. Light duty.” He stopped before opening the door and turned a suspiciously satisfied expression toward Stephen. “Only taking care of yourself and your novices. It’ll take time to rebuild again; we need to clean more rigorously, it seems.”

“My novices? Wong!”

Wong quickly pulled the door shut behind him. Stephen huffed. The audacity!

Everything was blessedly silent again. He looked down and wiggled his toes. And if there was a small wisp of shadow weaving in and out between his legs on the floor, nobody needed to know, did they?

[umblrspectrum]

so like is it specifically planets the solver craves or can it get by with just eating dirt off the ground

[eyra]

I don’t usually do discourse on this blog but that last reblog hit the nail on the head. Reader interaction is at an all time low for fic authors and whilst I’m eternally grateful for any and all kudos and comments that I do receive, I feel as if in the past couple of years there’s been this weird migration of comments - they’ve left ao3 and they’re on tiktok instead. So, rather than people leaving comments on my fics, they leave their comments on the videos of people reccing my fics. I see tiktoks about my fics and they’ll have double, triple the number of comments that the fic itself has. It’s so lovely that people are talking about my writing, but it’s just a very strange phenomenon and a very odd feeling when you have a fic that you assume wasn’t overly well received because it has hardly any comments on ao3, but then you see a tiktok full of comments with people saying that it’s their favourite fic.

And I’m going to say something potentially controversial here but not ONCE have I seen a tiktok creator, whose content relies solely on other people’s fics, say anything along the lines of “leave the author a comment if you enjoy the rec.” Literally never ever seen this. And I think that’s a real shame.

[crowliphale]

humans some of your humanoids

[needlepine]

New years resolution #1: indulge in warrior-catifying my other interests <3 These are Miku (and Gumi), Bubbline, and some Life is Strange guys

Warrior name ideas for them under the cut bc I can't resist

Miku: Something like Songheart or Shinesong. Song's gotta be in there. Songstar even tbh

Gumi: Echocall? Echoflow? She's my favorite but I'm stumped on her

Marcy: Nightsong, Batsong

Bonnie: Pinkstar, Candystar, Bubblestar? Warrior name Bubbleswirl would be cute

Max: Fawnpaw/Fawnfreckle. Fawnspiral is fun too

Chloe: Butterflystorm, but drops the suffix and takes the rogue name Butterfly instead. Also I didn't draw Rachel but Doeblaze lmao

Moses: Cometfall, maybe Comettail

[nite-puff]

ummm….. so. the mondoblr server made a joke, and i liked it a little too much.

the kiyotaka ishimaru iceberg!!

of course, i wasn’t the only one who worked on this. big thanks to @pompadorbz @chinchillasinunison @mini-mecha-cowboy @cryzono and @ecogirl2759 for all the help, whether it be contributing entries or finding sources!! we had a ton of fun putting this together, and i hope you guys like it!

reblogs are greatly appreciated because all of these lovely people (and i) put a lot of work into this!! they deserve it!!

(under the cut will be a link to the document with all the entries and some links to sources for most of them. HUGE thanks to eco for popping the absolute fuck off and finding all these links for us!!! (and thanks to mark and @panicuriprince for helping us out towards the end!))

[grenade-cephalopod]

The fact that the Strange Æons discord server remembered Miku Day but forgot International Women's Day is the single best thing to happen online today

[yimena-joy]

A lovely (?) silly thought I had.

I uploaded it to Discord. BY THE WAY!!! WE HAVE A #TobiIzu SERVER. Welcome, come and join us. 🩷🤲

💎 CLIC HERE!! 💎

[mckiwi]

Strange Tales of Halloween

Hosted by A Strange Server. Each prompt will be treated as a daily journal entry written by Stephen Strange.

On AO3

Next>

Prompt: Potion

Friday, October 18th, 2024

First thing I did today was wake up. Whether this is a fortunate thing or not remains to be seen.

I spent the morning listening to music, drinking coffee, and I completed my daily Duolingo lesson. Vá bien. I also brought the heated blankets out of storage. It’s supposed to get into the 20s tonight.

This afternoon, as I was studying, America came up to me asking for help. She somehow found a book describing a botanical potion neither of us had heard of before. I didn���t have any plans for the rest of the day, so, naturally, we decided to try and make the potion. In hindsight, we probably should’ve asked for Wong’s input first, but what’s done is done.

What unfolded is probably best forgotten. I hate to have to write this, but I will describe the three main takeaways.

1) I can and will ban books, starting with this one.

2) America is a liar.

3) “Solution will give you the abilities of the flora used.”

Wong found out.

The effects of the potion are expected to last for around 48 hours. I’m hoping it will be sooner. I’ve found getting sunburnt while trying to photosynthesize is counter-productive. I was able to amuse Wong by pulling a petal out of his ear, however.

I’ve ended the night fairly well. The Cloak was bathed and is hanging by the fireplace to dry. Wong says he has an assignment for me tomorrow, so we’ll see how that goes.

-S

[strangefaninastrangeland]

Brewing without Brooding – Strange Tales Of Halloween 2024 – Prompt: Potion

A/N: A little story for the first day of Strange Tales Of Halloween 2024 @a-strange-server :). Beta by the wonderful @hayanwulf

“…The end of the growing season and the gathering of crops are significant events also for mystical reasons,” Wong’s voice was strong and calm, despite the pace he was setting. Thankfully, Stephen’s long legs were well-suited to keeping up. As were his strong lungs.

“Yes, yes. I already know that. This period has historically been associated with the thinning of the veil between the living and the dead. I still don’t see how…” Stephen trailed off as he came to a stop. He assessed the opening in the dark forest before them for ectoplasmic residue. His hands trailed a soft light as he moved them in a pattern he had only learned a week ago. It had become extremely well-practiced by now.

Wong stood silently beside him. His eyes glowed with Sanshur’s Vision. The creaking of dry branches and the undulating shadows falling on them made the whole scenery uninviting, especially as no perceptible wind was responsible.

Suddenly, Wong exploded into motion as several specters swooped down on them from the barren treetops. Stephen skipped over the fallen tree trunk before him and ran to the middle of the opening. He pulled the vial out of the protective inner pocket of his belt and set up the Ghost Trap (not a very inventive name; he would have to come up with something better later), pouring out the astringent liquid in a near-perfect circle around himself, while Wong provided an impressive—and deadly, at least for some dry trees—lightshow, snapping at the specters with his Eldritch Whip like a whirlwind.

“Ready!” cried out Stephen, and he opened up the conduits for dimensional energy on his body. The specters let off their attacks on Wong and converged on Stephen, their grayish ethereal shreds billowing wildly in the non-existent wind of their flight. In a matter of moments, Wong appeared beside him, pushing his own energy into the activated Trap as well.

The otherworldly apparitions, getting caught in the potion’s compelling field, let out shrieks and howls that grated on Stephen’s ears and mind. Not the kind of music he was fond of. He had gotten to hear it a bit too often lately for his tastes. He stepped out of the circle, dropping the half-full vial in the middle.

“Because you don’t want to see?” picked up Wong from where they left their conversation effortlessly. “The end of the harvest season is a natural time for communities to come together. Not only to celebrate the bounty of the earth but also to remember and honor ancestors who played a part in past harvests. There you have it. Mystic significance.”

The Trap sucked in the last errant wisp of the specters. Another job well done.

“Wong, you won’t convince me that an intercultural cooking course in Kamar-Taj is a mystic event no Master can miss.”

~~~

Wong didn’t really need to convince Stephen. He could very easily threaten him, which, as a master of the threatening arts, he only alluded to. Not that Stephen was that unwilling to go. He liked Kamar-Taj festivals, and the community events were always a hoot. But this time, he was expected to contribute—with a demonstration. In a cooking course. He far preferred silent observation and preserving the hard-earned respect of the others.

“Can I take the Ghost Trap? It’s a very useful potion. I could rename it Halloween Punch. Merge cultural significance and a witty pun.”

“That’s neither witty nor a pun, Stephen.” Wong’s unapologetic deadpan was a joy.

“It is! You can punch a ghost with it! Or as good as punch,” defended Stephen. Then he carefully poured Wong another cup of tea, his hands barely shaking despite the workout he had put them through today. All in all, a good day. Wong acknowledged the gesture with a slight bow of his head.

“It is also not for consumption. You could invent a new beverage with a Halloween theme if you have to, but it must be palatable. And not toxic.”

“Why must I be one of the ones on stage again?” On the stage, demonstrating. Cooking.

“You are the highest-ranking American invitee.”

“That reeks like something you just came up with.”

“Sad for you that I can come up with whatever rule I like.” Wong, decidedly not sad, lifted his cup to his mouth. After a short contemplation of the tea’s aroma, he continued, “Every Sanctum will prepare a demonstration. Don’t play the reluctant, Stephen. You can be the center of attention, your favorite place to be.”

“Slander,” snorted Stephen. “I prefer to keep a low profile in Kamar-Taj. Too many touchy sorcerers and prank-happy novices.”

“That’s news to me. Your profile is sharp and pointy. Will you comply?” Wong put the cup down, leaned forward, and looked at Stephen as if his answer held deep importance.

“I’ll be there,” said Stephen, aiming for an ominous tone, then ruining it with a smile. He hid it behind his own cup. He imagined Wong maintaining his stoic facade should Stephen go ahead and present the Ghost Trap (with a nifty new name), just because he could.

~~~

“…and Master Strange from the New York Sanctum will be showing us…”

“The Halloween Punch!” Stephen’s satisfied smile grew wider at Wong’s warning “Stephen!” from the background.

“A variation of the so-called Witch’s Brew, a cocktail commonly served at Halloween parties in wide areas of the United States and beyond. Not to be confused with the Specter Snaring Potion, formerly known as Ghost Trap, an ingenious new tool in the arsenal of a responsible Master of the Mystic Arts. Invention of yours truly.” The muted colors of the decorations flared up and wobbled slightly. He blinked, but the reds and yellows still stood out from the greens and blues. He was also growing giddier by the minute.

Disregarding the groans of some of the less appreciative members of his audience, Stephen opened his arms theatrically and swept his gaze over the small crowd. They were colorfully dressed, diverse, and enthusiastic to varying extents. Some were fidgeting or whispering to each other in soft tones (mostly the newer residents of Kamar-Taj), while others exuded calmness and quiet dignity (Adepts and Masters). He felt another inexplicable surge of confidence and made a small step to widen his stance to keep from stumbling.

“Behold!” His voice resonated nicely in the small courtyard in one of the hidden corners of Kamar-Taj. There was no stage, just everyone standing in a semicircle around the table laden with ingredients for the demonstrations. But no stage was needed. He swung his arms inwards, his fingers folded into the hand sign for the activation of his spell. He didn’t plan to be this loud about his presentation previously. He distinctly remembered being nervous and wanting to keep it short and simple. But that had been before and now was now. The Punch deserved a punch-up.

“The traditional recipe, passed down from generation to generation in many families, includes fruit juice, optional alcohol, and for a magical touch, something extra like a vibrant jello mixed with carbonated soda. The Strange version, however, is nonalcoholic, made with ginger ale, pineapple juice, and lime sherbet floating on top!”

The ingredients glided in graceful arcs during their introduction, then deftly mixed themselves into the small cauldron in the middle of the table. To the left of the table, a more impressive version of the cauldron stood, containing a larger amount of the drink Stephen had prepared for the occasion. He may or may not have sampled his own concoction beforehand, perfecting the ratios even in the last minutes. He felt a pleasurable buzz just remembering.

Stephen’s eye caught on Wong. He was standing beside the big cauldron, his face in his hands. He looked sad. But there was no call for desperation!

“Let’s taste it!” Stephen made some quick, precise gestures, and several round bottles filled themselves and wafted over to the crowd. Some uncertain cheering was heard. Wong jolted from his place, hand lifted in a warding gesture, but several sorcerers had already taken a fine big gulp of the Halloween Punch, and the crowd grew lively. Eyes widened in surprise. People jostled each other to snag more punch. More enthusiastic cheering filled the air.

“Thank you! Now, lift your hands in the air for Master Astram from the London Sanctum!” Amid the shouts and whistling erupting from the majority of the audience, with no mind to the confused mutterings and stares from a (punchless) minority, Stephen strutted away in a slightly curving line. He offered a cheeky wink to Master Astram along with some reassuring words: “I have warmed them up nicely for you!”

He felt positively punchy.

~~~

Stephen was on his back. For added stability, he lay spread-eagled on the cool floor of his bedroom in the Sanctum. The Cloak, blessed relic that they were, carefully exchanged the wet cloth above his eyes. They gave Stephen’s hair a soothing ruffle, which elicited a groan from the suffering sorcerer.

“Stephen?”

“Stop shouting, Wong, for all that is sacred and holy,” whispered Stephen.

“No success with the detoxifying potion yet? The others are more or less fine.” Wong’s softer voice was still too loud.

“The others sampled far less of the contaminated punch,” breathed Stephen, desperate to keep his brains from spilling out of his nose.

“I have the apprentices who thought it would be funny to sprinkle the moon powder into your cauldron scrubbing the toilets of the infirmary. You can have them afterwards for Sanctum duty.”

“I don’t care.”

“They are appropriately cowed. Master Hamir is very scary with a magical hangover.”

“Hah. I still don’t care.”

“Come on, Stephen, it was a great show, and you received incredible reactions to your three-ingredients-punch. You’ll have fans!” Wong didn’t bother to conceal his mirth, which only went to show how he was a cruel man who liked to kick someone when they were already down.

“I’ll never, and I repeat, never again accept any invitation of yours. Ever.”

“You don’t mean that, Stephen.” Wong chuckled (he chuckled! When Stephen wasn’t joking!) and stepped up to him. A cool sensation flowed over Stephen's body, a balm for his screaming nerves, spreading from head to toe.

“You’ll teach me this spell as a recompense.”

“I will.”

“And I get meals delivered from Kamar-Taj’s kitchen for a week. Untampered with meals.”

“You will.”

“And I get to borrow some of the rune working studies from your private collection.”

“Stop right there. Quit while you are still ahead.”

Stephen slowly removed the cloth from his eyes and squinted up at Wong. Wong was crouching beside him, looking resolute. Quitting while ahead sounded reasonable.

"I guess I’ll have to roll with the punches," Stephen muttered. Wong threw his head back and laughed.

The End.

A/N: Don’t let your drink out of your sight, friends, and keep an eye out for your friends' drink as well!

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

I do really want to terrorpost but I don't feel qualified to be in that fandom man...... everyone is so smart and creative and they all have advanced degrees and I'm just sitting here like I think the lieutenants are in love :3

[xxplastic-cubexx]

They said no fun allowed im sobbing

[feuillyswife]

if i made a classic / gothic literature server on discord, would anyone be interested?

i need friends :')

[val-of-the-north]

My personal take on W.D. Gaster back when he was alive in Undertale's world.

I wanted to keep an air of mystery about him, which is why his body is completely shrouded and his eyes covered by work goggles, obscuring his true shape and visage.

I also imagined that, given his extensive connections to religion and the occult, and considering the Underground's apparent lag behind human advancements, he'd resemble a dark priest or techno-wizard more than a modern scientist in a white lab coat. Monster science also involves magic intimately compared to the more mundane human one. Alphys, on the other hand, styles herself after the current idea of a scientist since she has a more extensive knowledge of humanity and their customs (because she is a weeeeeeb)

I think he was the one who inspired the shift in profession from Royal Sorcerer to Royal Scientist, and if he wasn't the first one, he most definitely was the one who made the change definitive.