#My Constant Muse

[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

[grimeowkin]

We could just kiss like real people do

[misc-obeyme]

Just leaving this here out of context. He’s been on my mind but my writing is all over the place lately.

[mary34blog]

Out of all the AveMuji girlies I was always most invested in wtf Umiri's deal was out of them cause like... I had legit no idea what direction they end up taking with her.

With the others you could make a pretty decent guess about where it goes: Like Mutsumi DID surprise was unexpected to be sure, (mostly because I didn't think they would actually put that in a Bandori season) but even with her I had a decent image of her character trajectory. (Some of which I ended up guessing correctly.) And lord knows the entire creative team likes to hype the hell out of the incoming Uika Twist so I knew going in that whatever happens with her it's gonna be A Doozy in some way.

And then. There is this fuck ass bassist right here. She's in thirty gods damned bands. Thirty. What. Even if most of them barely active or dies quickly mfer that's still a lotta work. She's calm and proffesional. She's a snarky jester who likes to annoy Taki. She's making Higurashi faces in the OP for some reason. She looks like a terrified mouse in one shot of the same OP. While everyone and their grandma was busy watching Uika Misumi with baited breath I was obsessing over this funky little idiot. Sasaki Rico told us there was a bomb under the table but I only cared about why the guy stage right to the table is Like That.

And then. AND THEN. This episode is like: Umiri Yahata is like that because she's still upset about her first band she was in (that judging by their appearance in the flashback was founded in elementary school/early middle school at best) ditched her on the day of their performance. Also she goes on retail therapy after her last girlband ex refuses to text her back and dumps her tragic backstory on her ex coworker. She also leaves the bill to said coworker btw. And know is trying to get the band together while using their former rhythm guitarist's alter for her own ends all the while being framed like a sinister supervillain, right after we spent half an episode establishing her as the ultimate failgirl. Which somehow makes her look an even bigger failgirl/complimentary /affectionate. Also she sustains herself on a diet of protein supplements and vending machine drinks.

And. I. Love. Every. Second. of this fuckery. So so much. Umiri Yahata you are the woman of all time, I hope you get worse/affectionate

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

See also:

Christopher Tietjens

(face it, Benedict does that better than anyone else)

@idolomantises

[never-rxne]

i hc that modern sevika would experience the immigrant experience of never being fully connected to either side of her environment, i fear

she would feel jealous of kids who were perfectly fluent in their mother tongue and top of their class and becoming doctors or engineers or whatever and so in touch with their culture while still being 'just western enough' because she doesn't fit in with the 'good asian daughter' stereotype

my immigrant sisters will relate with me here rise up girls

anon. anon i just fell to the floor sobbing and weeping and crying-

you've opened the floodgates. i take this as a sign to do the immigrant's daughter sevika headcanons that have been spinning in my head like a microwave for ages. i didn't write it cuz i didn't think anyone would rlly want to read it besides me but now i will not be stopped !!!!!

AND THE MOTHER TONGUE HC ANON!!! YES!!!! GOD!!! FEELING LIKE AN OUTSIDER IN AMERICA, FEELING LIKE A FOREIGNER IN HER MOTHERLAND?? she means way too much to me. we're crying now

[littleoddwriter]

Happy 5th anniversary to the ZsaszMask brainrot aka Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn!

[danceworshipper]

Stay With Me

Written for the @garrethweasleyfest 🧪🦁

Prompt: Awkward morning after

AN: The fic takes place in seventh year, but they're technically still underaged. Despite it being very obvious why she's in his bed in the first place and there being a few references to it there is no explicit detail in this fic. While I never used her name since I haven't gotten around to making her a proper profile, the girl in the story is Persephone Malfoy, one of my ocs. This is the link to her intro post if anyone's curious about her

When he woke, it was silent - up before the others, then, which rarely ever happened. Garreth tended to be one of the last of them awake, rushing through some semblance of a morning routine in order to make it to breakfast with enough time for a full meal.

The silence allowed him to come to awareness slowly, letting his eyes stay closed as he nuzzled further into the soft skin under his face, the last lingering touches of her perfume - flowery and undoubtedly expensive - drawing him in. Underneath the perfume there was a hint of sweat from the night before, and the smell of warmth from being wrapped in his sheets. The combination threatened to pull him back down into slumber. How he'd gotten himself on top of her without waking either of them up was a mystery, but he wasn't complaining, not one bit. It was the best way he'd ever woken up, and it was promptly ruined as he remembered that it would probably never happen again.

Garreth cursed himself, cursed his now pounding heart, cursed her too for good measure, and then took it back and held her tighter in apology. She'd been clear; she always had. His heartbreak was his own.

To be fair to himself, though, he'd never expected her to stay the night.

He asked. Every single time she let him touch her, he asked her if she'd stay with him, and she said no. More often than not, she walked away without a word. It was easier that way. If she left, he never got the chance to delude himself into thinking that he had a chance at earning her heart. Nothing between them was romantic. That wasn't what she needed. She needed stress relief, she needed to work her anger out, she needed someone to take care of her after she saved the world again. She didn't need him, she just needed someone, and Garreth had always been willing. Was he even sure that she had no other devotees? A masochistic part of him liked to latch onto the idea that even if there were others, he was surely her favorite. The fact that she sought him out so frequently meant something, didn't it?

Very likely, it just meant that he was convenient. Had he ever turned her down? Ever said no, not tonight and sent her away? No, of course not. He hadn't even considered such a thing. He couldn't. Garreth would always want more of her, including the things she wasn't willing to give him.

But last night... he'd asked, just like he always did.

Stay? Please?

And she'd looked at him for a long moment, looked at his hand caught around her wrist, and climbed back into his bed.

Don't get ideas, she'd said.

He'd wanted to joke. Too late for that, he could have said, waggled an eyebrow at their nudity. His voice had caught in his throat instead, and he'd laid down as close to the edge of the mattress as he could. That was what she'd meant, anyway. No cuddling. No romance. No feelings.

None of what he was doing now: his head tucked under her chin, his arms wound around her, holding her the way he'd always dreamed of. Godric, he had to let go before she woke up and decided that he wasn't what she needed anymore. If she stopped coming to him because of this, because she could no longer pretend he didn't love her, he'd never forgive himself.

As Garreth tried to work up the strength to roll over, she shifted slightly beneath him, tensing as she noticed the position they were in. Panic rose in his throat like bile. Could he pretend to still be asleep? No, not with the way she could surely feel his heart thudding rapidly against his ribs, pressed up to her side. He was doomed. He'd gotten greedy and ruined everything.

Hesitant fingers brushed the back of his head, and Garreth couldn't help the way his breath hitched.

When he didn't react, frozen in shock and a painful hope, she let her hand sink properly into his curls and sighed, the tension leaking from her body - unlike him, who felt like he might vibrate out of his skin with nerves. This was new. This was something he'd never dared dream of, and yet. She had to know he was awake. Why was she doing this? To taunt him? Even she could never be that cruel... right?

With every ounce of courage he possessed, Garreth tilted his head up. Just a smidge. Just to see. Her fingers ran over his scalp, so similar to what she did when he was worshipping at her altar but so different, because this was gentle. This was a caress. He dared to relax back against her, willing himself to stop getting his hopes up. Maybe she was just nicer in the morning (he knew she wasn't, he'd seen her hex a first year for asking her how to get to the potions classroom before she'd gotten any sugar in her system). Maybe she was just comfortable. Maybe she was just cuddling him the way she would a cat, and he was nothing more than a pet to her. Though, on that train of thought, people did tend to love their pets - and there went his hopes rising again.

A loud thump startled them both. The thud was followed by a pained groan; Leander's alarm had shocked him into falling off the bed again. Garreth couldn't really blame him. Back in first year, before they knew how to cast silencing charms around their beds, Leander's horrid alarm scared them all shitless each morning and caused many a sleep deprived fight. Apparently, the thing was from his grandmother as a 'going away' gift. Garreth told him to just toss it and use a charm like the rest of them, but Leander maintained that he slept like the dead, so nothing but the alarm could wake him.

Swallowing his own fear at the anxious expression on her face, Garreth wished he'd thrown the damn thing away himself.

"The room will be cleared out in fifteen minutes at the most," he whispered, begging her with his eyes to stay calm, stay with him. "You can sneak out once they're all at breakfast."

She nodded.

Like a fool, he asked, "Did you sleep well?"

She nodded again, bit her lip, and turned away.

He could hear the others getting up and debated leaving her alone to calm herself. Whatever had gotten into her was gone now; there was no reclaiming the tenderness they'd had before it was ruined. The best course of action would be to tuck the memory safely into his mind and move on with his day.

As he shifted to get up, though, she snatched his arm to stop him.

"They'll see me," she hissed.

"I'll keep the curtains closed," Garreth promised her. "They won't see you."

"Do you often leave the curtains drawn?" she demanded.

He frowned. "No?" Her meaning sank in, and he hummed. "Ah, right. That would be suspicious. Alright, I suppose I'll just wait them out, then. They won't come looking for me unless I miss breakfast."

Helplessly, Garreth's gaze fell to where she was still gripping his arm. Her pretty painted nails looked so good against his freckled skin. She should always have her hand on him, in his opinion. He risked a glance at her face - she was also looking at her hand on his arm, fixated, and it was suddenly all too easy to slip back into his jokes.

"Like my biceps, do you?"

Seeing the blush on her cheeks was almost worth her snatching her hand away.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed," he teased. "I admire them too. You'd be shocked how much strength stirring a cauldron takes."

"Shut up," she muttered, fingers now clenched in his sheets instead of his skin. Lucky sheets.

Taking pity on her (and maybe not wanting to push her too much further than he already had), Garreth gathered her clothes from the edge of his bed to hand to her. It was sheer good fortune that neither of them had kicked them to the floor in the night. A girl's uniform by the foot of his bed would definitely have aroused suspicion.

Somehow, no one had noticed their frequent simultaneous disappearances yet - or, more likely, they had noticed, but were wise enough to leave it alone. Garreth was grateful either way.

Her beautiful body was covered up again in no time at all. He wished he knew what to say to make sure she wasn't going to walk out of his dorm and never come back, but she wasn't the reassuring type, so even if he did try to check in with her nothing would come of it. He let the chatter of the others fill the air instead.

"Oh, bugger, there's a test in Transfiguration today, isn't there? I haven't studied!"

"We've known about it since last week."

"I forgot, you arse!"

"Wah wah wah, you'll do fine. You always ace Transfiguration."

"But what if I don't?!"

The corner of her mouth turned up just a little at his dormmates' antics, and Garreth stared without remorse. Could he be faulted for thinking she was even more beautiful when she smiled? He thought not.

It only took a few more minutes. Finally, the door slammed shut and the room fell silent. She let out a deep breath, clearly relieved, though she made no move to get up from the bed.

"I'll make sure the coast is clear?" he offered.

"Okay."

Garreth stretched out his back as he swung his legs to the floor, raising his arms above his head and cracking his neck. He peered back at her over his shoulder on a whim.

Caught, she averted her eyes, a blush once again rising on her fair skin. He grinned smugly.

The room was properly empty, so he tossed on his trousers and stuck his head into the hall to check the stairs. No one in sight. A shame. He'd been hoping for a reason to keep her a little longer.

"Run for it."

He hadn't expected her to actually bolt out of the room, but she did, scurrying down the stairs and turning to dash up to her own room. His chest ached seeing her flee like that, but he still held out hope that he hadn't ruined it. That perfect moment - letting him lie with her, her fingers in his hair - that had to have meant something.

Maybe in another few years and she'd actually let him take her out on a date, or even just hold her hand in public.

He'd settle for her staying over again.

[twistedappletree]

when you’re trying to get advice from your friends but you all share 1 collective braincell ✨🧠✨

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

I've been thinking a lot about Khan lately and those ancient-seeming days when he fired my imagination so powerfully that the words flowed easily onto the page. Both in fics and in rp. I was always especially proud of the backstory I created for him (beyond the bare facts of the past that he is given in 'Star Trek: Into Darkness'), which was inspired by Benedict's many-layered characterization. There was enough pathos in his performance to make me believe that Khan became the compelling villain we saw onscreen from a good share of angst in his past. In his fierce loyalty to his people I caught a glimpse of his better self.

So, it naturally follows that I'd love to share some of my Khan writing again here. Sadly, I face two obstacles. First, I only have my phone to work on, and try as I might, I haven't been able to copy/paste the chapters from AO3 & FFN. I'm restricted to whatever already exists here on tumblr. Second--and frankly to my keen disappointment--I know from past experience that what I may be able to share here will likely be ignored. And I'm utterly disheartened at that sad fact.

But as it's my day off, and what's on television today pretty much sucks ( where's a LotR marathon when you really need one!😏), I may end up posting some snippets to fill my time and feed my mind. Telling myself it's not just a lesson in futility, though I only half believe that. Hoping a few Readers here will prove me wrong.

[kigakurutta]

STORY ⧸ APPEARANCE ⧸ THE INNER WORLD ⧸ TAGGED

[wildsaltair]

every day, Maximus is more beautiful to me than the day before. and today he’s looking like tomorrow

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

Y'all are really insane about my therapist escapades 😭😭😭

[flamesignitea]

//And you’re blocked anon. :)

[mars-ipan]

@small-jar and i are talking abt our funny little dnd plans for fortune and his totally-human-and-not-a-vampire boyfriend and. i got excited. anyways followers meet honamiya he is also a completely original character

(drawing base under cut)

like my art? commission me on ko-fi!

[sadgirlautumn]

My brain just loops random bits and pieces of the great impersonator 24/7