//omg strangefrost? gross

I KID I KID DON'T KILL ME FELLOW STRANGEFROST FANS

Let's try that again

// I am sleepy so I will fail to express my full love for this ship but you know I'm screaming about it. I've loved it in the past but especially love writing it with you and I'm as obsessed with it as frostiron now. It's a travesty how few fics there are for this pairing when they work so well together, even if 90% of that has been built up by fanon. Two single magic men in the active saga and the MCU can't even put them together, it's just rude.

If people couldn't tell already, I've spammed AO3 with several fics and some are still ongoing.

Anyway love on my bae Stephen @arroganceandfear

It's important not to show fear. A leader can't very well keep the confidence of his men if he succumbs to panic. The trouble is, Jack's never been the best of leaders, and his men have seen him run yelling from many a foe. But they can never really fault him, for the sorts of trouble their captain gets into would make anyone shriek and few others would survive what he has. It's his brilliance that makes up for his occasional dip in boldness.

He refuses to look bothered by this bugaboo that has taken up residence according to his superstitious crew. Doubtless it's some young scalawag managing to evade the lot of them. All right, maybe not doubtless. Doubtlack? Jack has seen far too much in his time to entirely dismiss the idea of something supernatural, but he'll be damned if whatever it is can't be fought or bargained with. He's Captain Jack Sparrow. He's tricked the merqueens of Isla Serena; he's dealt with ghosts and zombies and skeletons and fishmen; and met gods. He's going to suss out this mystery once and for all.

Lantern in one hand, his compass in the other, he ventures down into the bowels of his beloved ship. Two other pirates creep quietly after him, bearing arms while he is unable.

It's here in the darkness he feels it. His escort do, too. They shiver and whimper beside him and it bolsters his outward courage, even if his insides have turned to jelly. The compass needle waves and starts to spin.

"Whoever you are, man, whelp, or beast, I know you're here," Jack called. "Show y'self now and there'll be no trouble. I ain't in the business of punishing those on the run, but fair's fair, mate. You've got to earn your keep on this boat or you'll be shoved out at the next port."

The evening quickly turned from a bachelorette party to the equivalent of a drunken truth or dare, spurred on by one of the trauma nurses and cheered on by shots upon shots. Christine couldn’t help but laugh, cheeks flushed as another round of drinks was passed around the crowded table, the liquor being drowned with shocking ease. It was funny to witness, all these brilliant women, behaving like schoolgirls, especially as Claire Temple leaned over to her and gave her a nudge. Christine finished back the colorful shot, nodding as suddenly all eyes were back on her as it was finally her turn. 

The bachelorette herself. 

“Truth or dare!” The table fell into giggles as she furrowed her brows and scrunched her nose, contemplating before giving a wide smile. There was very little that would phase Christine, at least now, the world had only gotten…stranger. And so far things had ranged from foolish to raunchy, which quite honestly, could be all in a shift’s work. So, she placed the glass down and hummed as if she was about to reveal some big secret. “Dare!” She announced proudly, arms lifting high as she laughed again, curious about what Claire would have her do, assuming the worst and the best. 

“I dare you to call Doctor Strange!” Christine almost choked as she gasped, eyes widening at the last dare she thought she would ever receive, staring at Claire with a mix of shock and hesitation. “W-what?” She asked as if the dare would magically change (which if it regarded Stephen, it was a possibility). “You heard me!” Chants of ‘Call him!’ began to cycle around the table and Christine could feel her cheeks burn hotter, fishing for her phone out from her clutch, scrolling through her contacts, hovering over his name. A brief moment of sobriety struck her, brought to the surface of having to explain to Charlie as to why she called her ex, drunk, on the night of her party. But that worry was dashed away the second she hit call, praying that he wouldn’t answer and that she wouldn’t have to hear his smooth voice or his laughter or… 

She missed him. 

The click of the call being picked up made her focus and she began to stammer, shooting another glare at Claire who grinned wide like the Cheshire cat. “S-Stephen! The girls wanted me to call and say hi!” Oh, god, she was doing this. “Honestly, it was all Claire’s idea! I think she might actually respect you now!”

Desperation can prompt many things: invention, adaptation, genius, foolishness. For Rianoch – or Jade, as she was preferring to go by whilst undercover – it was survival. A bruise to the ego, too, necessary though it was.

It had taken her far too long to find him. Never mind the physical distance, getting the means and money to travel to New York had been a whole issue in itself, but the sorcerer's location and assurance that this was the right man for the job had proven tiresome. He probably could have been summoned by some other means and saved the time, but she’d been at the mercy of a soul hardly willing to give her the man’s name as it was.

That hardly mattered now. She was here, and the clock was still ticking. One final, long stare at the scrap of paper in her hand to confirm the address, gathered with so much difficulty, and it was balled up, confined to the depths of a coat pocket.

Well, it was now or never, Drawing a quick breath, plastering on an expression of calm to force bubbling apprehension down, Jade stepped forward and banged on the door.

A muted grunt as he begins walking once again, and Thor nods his head in thanks. Seeking aid has always sat at odds with his pride – and oh, does he pride himself on strength and fortitude – but in this particular case…he’s come to accept that this is not so easily solved alone.

He sits slowly, with a long exhale to prevent open grimacing, and makes a noncommittal gesture before hands move to clumsily unbuckle the cuirass he wears. “Long story. To keep it short, yes, stabbed. No, not Loki.” The armour falls away, and he raises the shirt beneath: there, between his ribs sits a blade wound. There is, however, no fresh blood: instead the wound seems to glow faintly purple. “Enchanted blade, but, you know, I don’t know a single magic user without some twisted sense of humour…”

The wry smile he pulls doesn’t last. Quite suddenly, Thor hiccups, then sneezes violently; the lights flicker, a rumble of thunder rolls outside the Sanctum, and in the distance, a car alarm begins to blare.

When she came to a sudden halt, he checked the readings. New York, Earth. Some New Yorks had a complication about them that meant time travellers couldn't land at certain points, but this one seemed to be ridiculously eager to meet him. The viewscreen showed him to have landed in some sort of museum by the looks of things, several display cases and bookshelves in sight.

Straightening his bow-tie, XI squinted and made for the door. He liked to be friendly on first encounters, typically, but he was never fond of being dragged about against his will.

He peeked out of the door and looked around with annoyed caution.

"Okay, ooookay, what's all this? I do not like being shiphandled."

“Bold of you to assume what I can and what I cannot do, Stephen,” Thor had expected a warming welcome and not this. “This wasn’t my choice, I can explain what happened once we leave the street, perhaps?”

She had been hoping to avoid him upon her return, hidden away within the room of the sanctum he's let her call home outside of karma-taj. Perhaps her unwarranted travel through the multiverse is what has her hearing his steps approaching the door, knee's hugged close to her chest and face buried within them. She can feel the tears beginning to create minuscule, damp spots on her jeans, a sniffle rattling through her bones as she doesn't move when the door finally creeks open.