What is it?
Exactly what it says on the tin — write one hundred drabbles based off the prompts below focusing on Doctor Strange characters and ships. While a drabble is a one-hundred word short story, you can go up to 300 words but no more. By the end of the challenge, you’d have written a maximum of 30,000 words of Doctor Strange content.
The dates
This is a casual, ongoing challenge so there’s no deadline per se.
Can I use drabbles I’ve already written up?
Nope, the aim of the challenge is to create new content.
What happens if I don’t finish?
Wong is going to stare at you with his most disappointed face. Just kidding, nothing happens if you don’t finish!
What happens when I finish?
All 10 of us who are in this fandom get to enjoy new content! \o/ Use the #kamartajdrabbles if you post on Tumblr and you can add your drabble to the AO3 collection here.
Do I have to write all the prompts about the same character?
Nope! You can switch it up however you like, only that they be about characters in the Doctor Strange universe, from the comics (Hello, Victor :D) or the MCU.
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the more i see wendy stans being racist garbage towards the likes of sam and rhodey, the more i cringe thinking about how awful they're gonna be towards mordo in multiverse of madness. i hate this 😒
Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.
"Come back," Stephen says. There's desperation in his voice, which resonates with the yearnings and frustrations of a lover who has plenty to say but not enough time to say them.
Patrons at the nondescript bar just outside Bucharest shuffle out one by one, some of them drunk, others quiet and forlorn. Between wiping washed beer mugs and cleaning the counters, the bartender repeats himself in Romanian. Stephen doesn't understand it but senses the urgency behind the syllables and intonation.
He turns to his companion perched on the high stool next to him. "I'm serious," Stephen says as he leans forward and places a tentative hand on the companion's arm. "Let me handle Wong and the others. They'll listen to me, even Jericho Drumm. Just like they did with her, it's the privilege of this title. They must or I'll make them. I will vouch for you on my life and Karl—"
Stephen's rambling. It's one of the many unusual traits he's come to accept about himself in his companion's presence. Gone are his charms, his ability to smoothtalk his way to the finish line, his charisma, a carefully crafted web of eloquence and reserve — all of it replaced by a needy attempt to convince the other man to stay.
They've played the same game for a decade now, ever since their paths diverged in Hong Kong after they had saved the world together.
Stephen falls silent when Karl collects the hand on his arm, cradles it between his own dry, calloused palms — the hands of a revolutionary. An immovable object and an unstoppable force. A killer.
Karl brings Stephen's scarred, shaking hand up to his lips. The kiss is soft, almost feather-light but its weight is enough to sink Stephen to the bottom of the ocean. A glorious resting place, away from the travails his title commands. It ends as quickly as it begins, leaving Stephen's heart thrumming against his ribs. His throat feels parched but the bottles in front of them are empty.
"There's too much water under the bridge, Stephen," Karl says, without letting go of his hand. Instead, his lips once more press against the cicatrices over Stephen's knuckles, the stainless steel pins under the skin almost shudder at the contact. "I do not want to add to the burden that already rests on your shoulders."
"That's not upto you to decide," Stephen says, clearing his throat. From his periphery, he notices the bartender has stopped cleaning and is watching them, instead. "I don't want to keep doing this. Meeting you in secret, lying to Wong about my whereabouts, this is all wrong. You belong at Kamar-Taj, it's your home. You've been away for far too long, Karl. It's time to come home."
Stephen studies Karl's face and holds his breath. He knows that look, had seen it cross the other man's face a hundred times before everything became irreparably broken — Karl's considering the proposition. With a little more pushing and nudging, Stephen thinks he can seal the deal and—
The bartender butts in. Though the words fly over his head again, the interruption gnaws at Stephen's chest. "Now what?" He asks, with little effort to hide the disdain in his voice.
Karl bites back a smile and finally lets go of his hand. "He wants us gone so that he can close shop and go home. Says there's a park down by the river, very popular among lovers and paramours, which we could visit instead."
A stray smile crawls its way up to Stephen's lips. "What are we? Romeo and fucking Juliet? This isn't some damn moonlit soiree for us to play hooky." He picks up one of the empty bottles and tips it over. Barely a drop of beer falls on the table's wooden surface. Stephen grunts with disgust. "Come on, I booked a room not far from here. Figured I might as well stay the night, it'd sell my excuse to Wong better."
Karl insists on paying the tab — Stephen jots it down as the eccentricities of a man who both loves and loathes his title of a Baron.
The gentle breeze outside nudges Stephen closer to Karl, until their hands touch and their fingers entwine, almost by instinct. Stephen pauses in his steps when Karl brings up their hands to his lips again. The kiss feels different somehow but Stephen's exhausted, booze-addled brain comes up short with explanations. He tempers his hope that maybe after ten years, two alien invasions and one apocalypse later, Karl has changed his mind, that he is ready to come back, instead of leaving their rented bed at first light.
"I'll think about it," Karl says with a kind of sincerity that only he can muster. It's acquiescence, reassurance and a promise all rolled into five simple words.
Stephen lets out a breath he doesn't realise he's been holding in. Warmth spreads in chest and slides down his spine, pooling in his guts. For all of his persistence over the years, he thinks this is the closest he's gotten to bringing Karl home. Karl's crimes, the sorcerers whose powers he took away, the men he killed—none of that matters even though Stephen knows it'll be an uphill battle. Even Wong's grown weary over time hearing second-hand details about Karl's crusade to rid the world of sorcerers.
"You know what? I'm going to take my wins where I can. If you say you're open to thinking about it, well, mister, I guess I just have to make my arguments more persuasive," Stephen says between a couple of shaky breaths, watching as Karl takes hold of his other hand, peppering both of his scarred knuckles with kisses.
For a moment, Stephen looks up and notices the moon overhead, shining down on them unobstructed in a clear, black sky—Stephen holds back a laugh. He thinks even Shakespeare couldn't have written a more satisfying comedy than this.
(i didn't intend for this to turn into a whole fic but 🥺🥺🥺)
"You're a 500-year-old sentient relic, more powerful than the sorcerers who walk these hallowed halls, and yet you chose the one man who tried to put you in a washing machine to remove blood stains. We do not understand this."
— The Staff of the Living Tribunal and The Vaulting Boots of Valtorr to the Cloak of Levitation, probably
(sentient relics having personalities matching their sorcerers should be a thing pls)
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doctor strange was a love story between two lost souls who found each other and loved each other until they were torn apart by circumstances. you can't change my mind
their trope is literally love at first sight. also remember that deleted scene where stephen helps the wounded dog right before this and karl saw the whole thing from afar? everything karl does from that point on to help stephen was because of what he had seen — a man down on his luck taking the time to help a stray with worse luck whom most people would ignore. that's how karl knew stephen wouldn't turn out to be another kaecilius.
remember how kaecilius tried to straight up murder stephen multiple times and actually did murder wong? and then there's karl — all he did was ask his minions to restrain karl so that he wouldn't get in the way. not to mention, karl sounded visibly pained when telling stephen about kaecilius' betrayal but he was also quick to blame the ancient one for it when he learned she was using dark magic.
i am not saying they were jilted ex-lovers who tragically broke up because of their differing ideologies but i totally am saying it.
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marvel needs to stop adding literally every other character into the doctor strange sequel and just focus on the actual franchise characters — like, stephen and wong's relationship with mordo, who's gonna be sorcerer supreme now? give us jericho drumm being the badass houngan supreme (marvel cast john david washington pls) who's mad at daniel's death, give us clea strange being a disaster bi, hell even wanda can stay — literally anything and everything that has to do with the doctor strange universe instead of adding who's who into the sequel.
the fic where stephen’s insecure af about his feelings for karl. rhodey and tony don’t help, obviously.
stephen adjusted karl's lapels and said, "i should warn you. stark has zero shame and would probably try to feel you up. rhodes is more subtle but he's still a touchy feely bastard."
"hmmm."
it had been a sensitive topic since the gold embossed invitation to the annual stark-rhodes charity gala arrived at 177a bleecker street, delivered personally by an unmanned iron man suit.
"not that i care, i just thought since this is your first gala in new york and all, you should be warned. i mean it doesn't matter to me if you chose to entertain their advances but—" stephen smoothed a hand over the lapels and reached for the pocket square. despite his nonchalance, his stiff shoulder and tight-lipped expression gave away the truth: he very much cared about unsolicited advances from the avengers towards karl mordo, his mentor, teacher, friend and the leading star of the many wet dreams he's had since his arrival at kamar-taj five years ago.
normally, stephen would not have hesitated in making his advances — the man was a baron, for god's sake. that was as close to royalty as stephen would get after once embarrassing a british duke at a medical conference in cambridge. in his defense, he had no defense, the duke was an uptight prick obsessed with britain's class division.
anyway, before stephen could, in fact, make his move by serenading karl under a full moon with some good old fashioned new york pizza, dripping grease all over the box, a bottle of the finest pinot his non-union job as the master of the new york sanctum could afford, and mahler's melancholy bursting from an old, possibly haunted record player he had found in the attic, he was made aware of a potential problem.
karl had an ex. and said ex was the newly minted sorcerer supreme. though many swore that karl and wong's separation had been amicable, and that the sorcerer supreme, who had a newfound fascination with mahler's alleged descendent beyoncé, would willingly give his blessings, stephen had dated enough to know that was nothing but a bold-faced lie. and so, rather than to incur the sorcerer supreme's wrath for something other than overdue library books, stephen chose to admire from afar.
the most he allowed himself was to pick karl's suit from macy's and adjust his collars and his pocket square.
"how would you feel if i were to entertain their advances tonight?"
huh? oh. right. caught up in his thoughts, stephen had forgotten the company present in the room.
he shrugged. "eh. doesn't matter to me. just don't go starting shit with the avengers because i don't want your ex to blame me for bringing to this damn party."
"wong wouldn't care."
"not my problem." another bold-faced lie but stephen was getting go at acting nonchalant, to the point his behaviour earned him karl's frown. that stung but he'd rather disappoint karl than to piss off someone entrusted with earth's protection and had the word "supreme" in his newly promoted job title.
they spent the short distance from the new york sanctum to the avengers tower in complete silence at the back of yellow cab.
the gala was as extravagant as one would expect from new york's richest billionaire and his decorated husband, who was a true-blue american hero. at the entrance, they were greeted by a waiter who offered them flutes of champagne that probably cost more than the price both of their kidneys would fetch in the black market.
stephen was secretly pleased at the look of distaste on karl's face. it wasn't that the other man didn't have any wealth. being a romanian noble meant he had at least a few castles under his name, but karl never showed off his wealth, which was sometimes infuriating when stephen had to dig into the depth of his jeans pockets for change to buy lunch for two. "well get ready because trouble at twelve o'clock," he said to karl as soon as the lift brought them up to the ballroom on the 81st floor where their arrival was immediately spotted by stark. rhodes was probably lurking somewhere, ready to launch a surprise attack when least expected.
with a deep breath, stephen said, "i suppose it's time i confessed." he hadn't meant to hold in a secret for as long as he had but his pride prevented him from coming clean more than a month ago when they received the invitation in the first place.
"on one of the missions, i might have told them you and i were dating. they didn't believe me, they thought—well a lot of people...they think you and i are not very compatible. and i guess—" god, it was embarrassing, and mortification was made worse by the non-expressive look on karl's face.
"i was an idiot. i don't know what compelled me but i told them you and i were an item and they invited us here to prove that i was lying all this time. you have every right to be mad, i am sorry for getting you involved in this mess and i am going to come clean—"
"come clean about what?"
stephen and karl turned in time to find rhodes standing there, his arms crossed, barely hiding the gleeful look. he even paused to give karl a once over, which made stephen's teeth grind. of course karl wouldn't want anything to do with him, not after he revealed himself to be liar who had taken advantage of their friendship, who had let a lie fester for months.
by then, stark had caught up to them and threw his arms around stephen and karl despite being a good head shorter. "good evening gents. so glad my favourite superhero couple could make it to the gala. we are going to have plenty of fun this evening."
stephen sighed, ready to be lead to the guillotine where his social snafu would be executed in public display, after which he would become a pariah in new york, both among wealthy elites who only tolerated him for saving the world once or twice and among the superhero community that thought he was one of those weird magic users who enjoyed sex with tentacles aliens — stephen had never bothered to correct them and the rumour took a life of its own.
what happened next was something straight from one of stephen's wet dreams: karl, albeit politely, pushed stark's arm away and gave rhodes his sweetest yet unnerving smile and said, "as much fun as you are promising tonight, my boyfriend has promised to triple that and i am not a gambling man, sir, so i like to place my bets in safe places. so, while i am here for the photo op and to cut a check for your generous cause, i intend to return home with this man who owns both my heart and my soul. i feel parched. come on, stephen let's get a drink. we will see you gentlemen later."
stephen didn't have time to appreciate or gloat at the twin looks of shock on stark and rhodes' faces. instead, he was too busy collecting his own jaws off the floor when karl put a hand on the small of his back and guided him away. on their way to the bar, karl said, "for the record, i have a written consent form signed by wong right here." he tapped his left breast pocket. "you can read it later but the gist of it is that he gives his blessings for us to date, so, you can stop looking from afar and stop getting into pissing contests with the avengers. oh and he told me to tell you, he wouldn't hesitate to eviscerate you if you fail to return your books on time, damage them in any way or, vishanti forbid, lose them."
stephen could only laugh. he'd glad accept all of wong's punishment as long as he had karl to return home to.
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