Doctor Strange

“Who are you in this vast multiverse, Mr. Strange?"

                                  - Ancient One, 'Doctor Strange', 2016.

Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange M.D., Ph.D Master of the Mystic Arts

                    Indie RP Blog

                                 Crossover friendly. OC friendly. AU friendly.

                                                                    Conjured by Various

Meme Random Asks /// Always Accepting

Stephen paused, blinking almost owlishly at Matt’s offering. Realistically, Stephen knew that the other man wouldn’t be able to see the expression on his face as his mind tried to process the sight greeting him at the Sanctum’s door, but surely Matt caught the way that his heartbeat skipped, his breath catching in his lungs, the sound of his lips moving wordlessly with aborted attempts at words - gratitude or confusion or both. 

He reached out for the box, wary of ruining the elegantly decorated cake inside. The Cloak settled around his hands, supporting them to keep from jostling the treat and ruining the neat, swirling filigree designs created in gold and blue, his name printed in elegant loops in that same navy over vibrant red buttercream. Unbidden, the Cloak of Levitation lifted the lid, the fresh smell of the dessert reaching Stephen immediately. He’d be lying if he said his mouth wasn’t watering. Just how long had it been since he’d had cake? Years and years spent convincing himself that he didn’t care much for sweets after diving into the vain world of medicine meant absolutely nothing for just a moment. 

Happy Birthday, Stephen.

I know you don’t like to be fussed over, so you can blame Cherry. She wouldn’t let it rest once she learned today is your birthday.

She hopes you enjoy the cobbler. She promises she tried to not make it too sweet and the gloves are from her as well. She worries about your hands as it’s getting colder.

The incense are the last I have. They belonged to the Ancient One and I thought you should have them. I used them during the  Blip when things felt at their most dire. I hope they’ll serve you. I found them very comforting.

Also, I thought your vinyl collection needed expanding. I can’t have you rattling off the same facts to me over and over. Enjoy it.

I hope you let this day be a happy one, Stephen. We hope it is a tradition we can continue.

Meme Random Asks /// Always Accepting

He shouldn’t really be surprised by the sight that greeted him when he returned to the Sanctum that evening. It had been a long day, universal peacekeeping eating up the bulk of the day. He’d managed to spend a few moments with Natasha in the early, early hours of the day, and he’d had just enough time to drop off a gift for Strange before getting back to work, but even that was more than he had expected from the day. It was a sign of the changing times, and a reminder of the way their little makeshift family had cemented into place. 

He hadn’t gotten the chance to see either Wong or Cherry before he’d been called away, and knowing Cherry’s big heart and Wong’s more private supportive, caring nature, Stephen had come to expect at least a note left on his desk when he returned to his little sanctuary. But it was the extent of the gifts he had been given that made him pause. It was unbelievably thoughtful. He certainly expected as much from those two. He pulled each part of the gift from the organized box with care, fearful of dropping anything with his trembling hands, sore and weak after a long day. He set everything out, eyes roving over each item as he read through the note that had been left in Wong’s neat scrawl. He drew the cobbler up to his nose, inhaling deeply with a shuddering sigh and a hunger he hadn’t realized he had felt. He held the gloves in his hands, feeling the leather between his fingers before slipping them on, finding comfort in the warmth and compression. He picked the incense out carefully, rolling the familiar sticks carefully between his fingers before setting it aside. He had to resist the urge to light one when he felt his eyes growing embarrassingly wet, both over the memory of the Ancient One, and the subtle sharing of Wong’s own vulnerability. 

But the vinyls... 

The Cloak was already setting up the record player Stephen kept. Mostly for display, but occasionally, Stephen enjoyed the break in silence. The Mamas and the Papas filtered quietly into the room, the familiar harmonies of “Monday Monday” encouraging his shoulders to relax as he dropped to sit. 

"I feel like I always find you here when it's too late to be awake." She teased, as the widow sat down. It was way past midnight. The Sanktums Grandfather clock had already struck twelve and one but kept on ticking, stealing their time away relentlessly. 

"Happy Birthday, Stephen." She placed a small parcel infront of him. It was neatly wrapped in deep blue, holographic paper. A cheesy silver bow sitting on top of the gift, attached by a string. "You didn't really think you would get out of this, did you?" 

Meme Random Asks /// Always Accepting

He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, lost in thought as he read the same passage for, perhaps, the fifth time. The words had long since begun to blur into a nonsensical jumble of familiar letters and half English, but every attempt to refocus on his reading was met with another wave of an unusual off feeling. It was a sensation just managing to defy explanation, like a mounting sense of dread, the familiar palpitation-inducing anxiety that came with the knowledge that something was going to happen, but he wasn’t quite sure what. An uneasiness. A wariness. He couldn’t tell if the twitching of his fingers was from the typical tremors of his old-ruined hands, or a nervous sort of drumming. 

Eventually, he sighed, forgoing the tablet as the screen went blank, his attempts at staying updated on medical journals abandoned as he curled up in the massive armchair tucked into the corner of his study. His knees drew up closer to his chest, his hand rising to form a hood over his eyes, weak protection against dim candlelight. (When had it gotten so late?) The Cloak settled comfortably over his shoulders, wrapping around his body to help keep out the growing November chill where his oversized flannel and sweatpants failed. He smiled softly, appreciatively, and allowed his eyes to drift shut just momentarily. He took slow breaths, meditating on the quiet of the Sanctum around him, hoping that the stillness might help soothe his unsettled nerves. 

The suddenness of Natasha’s voice didn’t necessarily help, but Stephen still found himself offering her a tiny smile as she approached, because he knew that her presence might still help put him at ease. Her company would be invaluable. He chuckled softly, drawing himself to sit upright. “You know me so well,” he shot back easily.

But, his expression quickly shifted into one of confusion. Dark brows drew together at the sight of the gift in her hands, and taken aback by her birthday wishes. “It’s not my birthday,” he replied, but there was a lack of surety in his voice. He reached back for the tablet, bringing up the home screen to seek out the time, the date. He paused, blinking with an understanding that dawned at a snail’s pace. “Oh...” he mused, “I guess it is.”

He supposed he could claim that was the cause for his feeling of dread. He hadn’t been big on celebrating his birthday in years, and had been even less enthusiastic about it since becoming a sorcerer, when his work with the Time Stone had made the passage of time muddled and his lifetimes at the mercy of time loops had made him lose track of his own age. A birthday had just seemed so moot. He had asked Wong not to worry about it, and even Christine had stopped calling on the eighteenth after he’d requested it. 

He wasn’t sure how Natasha had found out, but Stephen supposed that she had her ways.