A Strange Magic

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓-𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 curve into a soft smile as Stephen’s arm tightens around her, his warmth cutting through the chill that nips at her cheeks. Her gaze lingers on the delicate music boxes, their painted woodland figures frozen mid-dance, and she tilts her head slightly, a cascade of dark curls brushing against her scarf. ❝ A miracle, ❞ she murmurs, her tone light but laced with genuine warmth. ❝ Or maybe just a reminder… sometimes ze smallest things can bring ze greatest joy.❞ She presses her gloved fingers gently against the glass, as if she could somehow pluck the wonder from the display and carry it home. ❝ Look, Stephen ❞ she says softly, her voice alight with the same excitement she sees in their children’s eyes when they dream aloud. ❝ Zis one▬▬ze rabbit in ze red coat, ❞ she says, her voice soft with wonder as her gloved hand hovers just shy of the glass, as though touching it might disturb the delicate enchantment of the scene. ❝ Zis is for Jessa. She will adore it, non ? ❞ Her lips curve into a knowing smile, the kind only a mother can wear, layered with quiet pride and the tender ache of knowing her children will not be small forever.

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, but how can he forget of what joys life now brings him. Before it was his work, the money and the notoriety that came along with it. Now ? It's her, his family, and moments like this as they are together looking into stores on this chilled snowy day hoping to find the perfect gift for what he would call certainly ; his perfect family.

✎‿𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 @astrangemagic

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐧 was a time just for being busy and working overtime -- his new life path allowed him more relaxing and enjoying the holidays for what they are meant to be for. Family, even friends. And when it came to the spirit New York held it's own kind. Lights were already up and the crisp air would take hold of those walking the streets. It wasn't Jack Frost simply nipping at noses, but playing a game of 'got your nose'. So much so Stephen crinkles his from time to time to make sure it's still on his face.

𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝑾𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒆 thrash against the golden, sparking bars, claws flailing uselessly. Turning back to Doctor Strange, he raises his hands in mock surrender. The white eyes on his mask widen innocently—well, as innocently as he can manage. ❝ Alright, alright, no need to get your Cloak in a twist, Houdini, ❞ he quips. ❝ I can explain everything. Well, maybe not everything—I still don't know how they get the caramel in Caramilk bars—but the important stuff, sure. ❞ He takes a step closer, leaning in conspiratorially. ❝ So, picture this: me polishing my katanas, him brooding in a corner as per usual—when suddenly, bam ! A rift in the space-time continuum. ❞ He gestures dramatically, ❝ Next thing we know, we're here ! In the land of inconsistent timelines and cameos that make the audience cheer. It's like a family reunion, but with more spandex. ❞ He glances back at Logan, who is now giving him a death glare that could melt adamantium. ❝ As for the walking Ginsu knife over there, that's Wolverine. Grumpy Canadian, healing factor, a real teddy bear once you get past the homicidal rage. And by 'teddy bear,' I mean 'wolverine that will absolutely eviscerate me if given the chance.' ❞ He taps the side of his head. ❝ I'm Wade Wilson aka Deadpool. The Merc with a Mouth, the Sultan of Sarcasm, Marvel Jesus. ❞ He starts pacing, hands animated as he talks. ❝ What are we doing here ? Great question ! Existentially speaking, aren't we all just tiny specs in the vast multiverse, searching for meaning ? ❞ He pauses, then shrugs. ❝ But more specifically, I'm here because the fans demanded it. Blame them. ❞

𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕. He's stronger than he imagined, but he's certainly doing his best to try so he can get answers from the one who seems to be dressed like Spider Boy, just..not. His humor certainly doesn't even compare to the young man. After all there is teenage humor and then there is whatever this guy is offering Stephen.

𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒊𝒏, his masked face inches from him, nodding sagely as if he’s about to impart some ancient wisdom. ❝ So yeah, you’ve got yourself a keeper, Doc. I’m actually a little jealous. You’re out here slinging spells, saving the world, and then you get to go home to that ? It’s like you hit the jackpot in the cosmic lottery. Meanwhile, I’m stuck with my handsy unicorn plushie. ❞ Then, as if hit by a lightning bolt, he suddenly snaps his fingers. ❝ Wait, you did say kids ? As in plural ? Holy Chimichangas ! You’re out there saving the multiverse, raising little future sorcerers, and still finding time to look as dapper as you do. You’re like a mystical Mr. Incredible, but with less spandex and more sparkles. ❞ He lowers his voice to a stage whisper. ❝ So, where do you find time for date nights ? I mean, does the Cloak babysit ? ❞ He pauses, his mind clearly going a mile a minute, then snaps his fingers again with another idea. ❝ You know, if you ever need a babysitter, I’m your guy. I’m ready to be an uncle. I’ve got a lot of free time. I’ll teach them all the important stuff. ❞ ❝Wade ! Where the hell are you, you mouthy little—!❞ There the white patches on his mask widen again as he spins around to the familiar voice. A figure in yellow spandex strides into view, claws already extended from the man’s knuckles, gleaming menacingly in the sunlight. His brows are furrowed, his jaw set.

𝑯𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒖𝒂𝒍. He's learning a lot -- more than he cared to know. So much so he isn't even going to ask about the ... handsy unicorn. Best not too.

𝒂𝒔 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔 him about Spider-Man, Deadpool can’t help but snicker. ❝ Spider-Man ? Pfft, please. Spidey’s great and all, but he’s like the kid you hang out with when you want to feel morally superior. You, on the other hand— ❞ Deadpool points a finger-gun at Strange, mimicking the sound of a pistol firing with his mouth, ❝ —you’re the guy who can bend reality, open portals to dimensions filled with dark, spooky things, and rock a cape that probably has its own IMDb page. Why would I be looking for Spider-Man when I’ve got you ? ❞ He pauses, realizing he’s still in selfie mode, and snaps a few more photos, each one with a different ridiculous pose—peace signs, duck faces, the whole nine yards. ❝ Besides, ❞ he adds with a wink that’s somehow conveyed through his mask, ❝ this costume ? Way better than Spidey’s. More pockets. ❞ He lowers the phone, finally giving Strange his full attention—well, as much as Deadpool can muster. ❝ But big fan ? Of you, of course ! Doc, I’m the president of the fan club. Lifetime member, ❞ He gestures to the space between them, the tension lightened by his over-the-top antics. Then, as if suddenly remembering something crucial, he suddenly stops, his eyes—or rather, the expressive white patches on his mask—widening again with dramatic realization. He leans in close to Strange, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, though it’s loud enough for everyone in a five-block radius to hear.

𝑯𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆, but the bakery. All of it. All of them in this area in fact. So far, it's safe to say that this individual is probably the oddest Strange has ever come across ... though it seems to somehow go with the name on his own birth certificate. Nothing can be normal, can it? Strange stares at the individual but he can't deny that he's humored by it. A little off kilter so to speak, but amused. He may have already had this thought ; but it's fair to have it again.

ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ @astrangemagic

𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔...𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, though somehow this one is going to take the cake. Maybe the entire bakery when the man in the red suit that almost looks similar to that of Spider Man though is dawned with obvious differences, Stephen Strange greats this man with a very perplexed expression on his face.

𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, his heart pounding, eyes glued to Strange, straining to catch every word. He fights to keep his mind from spiraling, to block out the images of the horror AJ must be experiencing—reliving the day that fuels his nightmares, the day that drove him to spend countless nights in his workshop, trying to ward off any future danger from the world and everything that he holds dear. The way Stephen speaks, the calm in his voice, but without Tony seeing how he's trying to calm AJ, only amplifies his helplessness. His gaze keeps drifting to her still form on the bed, every muscle in his face tight with terror, each second stretching unbearably as he waits for any sign of her coming back to him.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒐 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏, and Stephen greets him with open arms, pulling him close to him when Tony shoots him that look. He puts his hand lovingly on the boy's cheek. " I know, Theo...I know." He rubs his son's back as he watches Tony, and he watches AJ. What is going on that would leave her there a moment longer than the two of them?

𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎 stay glued to Strange, every muscle in his body coiled with tension, waiting for any sign, any clue about what’s happening to his kid. When Stephen finally speaks, his words hit Tony like a gut punch. 2012 ? The Battle of New York ? AJ wasn’t even born then. How could she possibly be there ? The confusion twists in his gut, a knot tightening alongside the fear gnawing at him. His mouth goes dry, his throat constricting as he struggles to find his voice. The impossible reality crashes over him, leaving him momentarily paralyzed, a thousand questions and no answers tearing at his sanity, twisting his gut into tighter knots. He grabs his chest, pacing back and forth, the movement doing little to ease the crushing anxiety. Then Stephen’s voice cuts through again, telling him that he understands now—that AJ is watching him sacrifice himself. His eyes snap wide in shock as he whirls back around to face the sorcerer.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆, 𝒊𝒇 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒘𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒏 where there shouldn't be in this moment. How is AJ capable of this ? He knows that her mother has mutant DNA in her ; but he thought certainly it was not passed down to the child. And yet somehow biology decided to play a game, a trick it seems to give the child something of a power of her own. Though how to explain it, define it was not something that Stephen himself could do. His only touch to the past was with magic, an amulet who allowed him to test time within certain bounds. But this girl in her dreams is time traveling, watching everything happen that she shouldn't. How ?

𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨, unease gnawing at him, as Stephen steps back and waves his hand, causing the candles in the room to flicker back to life. The flickering flames cast long shadows, adding an eerie quality to the scene. Stephen’s legs cross, and he begins to levitate, murmuring words that Tony can’t understand but knows are vital. Tony shifts uncomfortably and the glow of the mystic's spell reflects in his eyes, but all he feels is a growing dread, a sensation he can’t shake as he watches Strange weave his magic. It’s maddening to stand idle, every instinct screaming at him to take action, but all he can do is wait and hope. When Stephen glances at him and says he's lucky to be kept updated, lips press into a thin, grim line. He forces himself to stay silent, but the tension is evident in the way his jaw tightens. Trusting someone else, especially in a situation as dire as this, goes against every instinct he has. But he has no choice. Not now. He nods, a terse acknowledgment of the gesture, watching as Stephen’s eyes shut tight, then open to reveal a glowing blue light. A soft mist circles around the sorcerer, its tendrils weaving through the air like ghostly fingers. Tony feels a chill creep up his spine, an icy sensation that has nothing to do with the room’s temperature. The ethereal fog seems to seep into his bones and his heart races as he stands there, helplessly observing. It feels like torture. Then he hears Stephen’s voice, faint but unmistakable, “Impossible...” His breath catches in his throat, and he steps closer, his eyes fixed on the wizard’s face, desperately searching for any hint of what’s unfolding. But Stephen’s expression remains an enigma, offering nothing to ease the mounting dread gnawing at Tony’s insides. The uncertainty tightens around him like a vice, squeezing every ounce of his composure.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒊𝒇 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 , all the while his eyes are scanning the scene before him. He knows Tony wants answers, he can hear him as an echo against his ears. Steady breathing before he answers.

𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙟𝙖𝙬 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨 as Stephen’s words hit him like a series of gut punches, maybe even go through to him. This realization forces him to confront the uncomfortable truth: Stephen is fighting for his son just as fiercely as he is for his daughter. It’s a sobering thought, one that tempers his anger with a heavy dose of understanding. Damn, Tony just hopes this doesn’t go any further south. She’s the one who brought light into his darkest hours, her innocent questions breaking through his brooding thoughts. Her spark of curiosity, the way she’d marvel at his gadgets, always asking “How does it work, Daddy?” She is all that he isn’t—the best of him. When he looks at her, he sees the future he wants to protect, the embodiment of every hope he’s ever had. Losing her is not an option. It would shatter him in ways he can’t even begin to fathom. As Stephen steps closer to look at their children, Tony's gaze follows, his eyes narrowing at the sight of boys’s arm draped protectively over AJ, their hands clasped together. The trust AJ must have felt in Theo to allow this, to let him into her mind, stirs something deep and conflicted. Anger bubbles up again, mingling with a sharp sting of fear, but beneath it all is a begrudging acknowledgment of the bond they share. Why did she let this happen ?

𝑯𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, he's too much like his father and he knows it. The need to show off, the need to be the center of attention. Stephen gets it completely, of all the things he could pass down to his son. But he is also willing to help as seen by this situation of which he's holding AJ and in her head. Stephen takes some steps back and with the wave of his hand he relights the candles that are in the room. Leg's crossing he levitates in the center murmuring words to draw in a connection between him and the kids and the dream state they're in. He gives one glance to Tony before he falls deep into it. ❝ Lucky for you...I can keep you updated. ❞ though he doesn't think he can entirely trust Tony in the moment -- he's going to try.

𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨, every muscle in his body tight and his eyes lock on Stephen, the words ringing in his ears like an accusation. The heat of his own anger rises, mingling with the cold dread that has settled in his chest. The voice of reason is somewhere in there, trying to break through, but the care for his daughter blinds him to it. The logical part of his mind is suffocated, leaving no room for anything but the desperate need to protect his little girl. However, he knows this isn’t his field. The realm of magic and mystical spells is as foreign to him as the inner workings of an arc reactor would be to a caveman. There’s nothing he can do except stand by as his daughter lies there, her life hanging by a thread. The gnawing helplessness eats at him, every second stretching into an eternity. He has to put his trust fully in Stephen Strange, the wizard whose reckless son is the cause of all this. That boy, Theo, has always acted before thinking. The countless times he’s seen the kid dive headfirst into situations without a second thought Why should Tony even begin to consider the reasons behind Theo's actions ? No matter how noble Theo's intentions might be, or how much he cares about AJ, it doesn’t change the fact that his impulsiveness has led to this nightmare. He knows Stephen is doing everything he can, but it’s little comfort. His trust in Stephen is both a necessity and a bitter pill to swallow, overshadowed by the ever-present fear that it might not be enough. All Tony can see is the harm done to his only child, a child who’s a miracle to even exist. He clicks his tongue, a sharp sound of frustration, glancing to the side for a moment, trying to think. The rational part of him knows he needs to back down. This isn't a battle, not one he can fight with repulsors and ingenuity. His head turns back to Stephen, his eyes glazed over.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉 , 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 , as though he's biting down on his tongue hard to not say the things he wants to say to Tony in that moment. He mentions that if something happens to AJ he will kill him. Stephen scoffs, shaking his head. ❝ You know damn well I will never let that happen. Not to your kid, not to mine. ❞ the words come out as bullets hoping to hit the armored man where it matters most. He needs to put some faith in Stephen, he did once before. But this is the matter of their children so he can understand exactly why this isn't going to go the same way it had before.

"ᴅᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀ? ʟᴇᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʙᴏɴᴅɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ." — @astrangemagic

𝑯𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑻𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 ; 𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 but fighting will not solve this problem. Even with barbed words that were meant to cut Stephen tries to find grace in the moment. But there is only so much of a verbal lashing that Stephen could take when it came to his parenting.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 had been complicated, a long and arduous journey to where they once were. She had always loved him, even when he pushed her away after his accident. And she still loves him; that, the snap couldn’t take away. But now, the reality is undeniable. She’s married to another, a man who brought her a different kind of happiness, one that made the pain easier to bear, though it never fully healed. Seeing Stephen again and hearing his voice shatters the fragile barriers she had built around her heart, reopening old wounds and flooding her with memories. She fidgets with her nails as he speaks, struggling to maintain her composure while her eyes grow watery. His heartbreak, visible through that fragile smile, breaks hers even more. Stephen’s efforts to be kind, to mask his own sorrow, sink her heart further. They cannot pick up where the snap interrupted them, and all that remains is the pain of lost possibilities. She never thought it would come to this, despite knowing his duty to the world, to the universe.

𝑆𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘩𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙, but he is. Because with all of this magic and he couldn't protect her from losing him. But she's found happiness and he's happy for her. It stands strong in front of the sorrow of missed years like a statue made of delicate materials standing in the middle of a brewing storm. The love of his life married to another and he is left with the rest of his days wondering if that could have been them ; a happy couple. Maybe a family ?

✎‿𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 @astrangemagic

𝑃𝑒𝑟𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚, but he couldn't ask her to have waited for him ; that would be selfish. She deserved to find happiness after all she had been through -- and there was no promise of him coming back. Even if he had seen the possibility it's not like he had the time to tell her of what was to come. No, that is now how fate plays out when it comes to him and his life. There are no warning signs, no crumb trails to follow. They happen and then he has to live with what comes after.