possible endgame spoilers - the dr strange open post.

[rehandle]

give me mcus or au your crosscanons into the mcu or weird space cross-dimensional magic them there I'm easy I just want to play a magical, magical man with too many responsibilities who is also a shit

pre-IW, post-endgame, an au where everything's simpler, weird side pocket universes or suspended states where characters can have some chats, space, the sanctum, post-ml au for those who are/have been in a game with me, etc. the world is your oyster and any kind of thread starter or thread genre is fair play.

drop me a starter or a prompt or just a theme/genre or idea in the body of the comment, or leave it empty and give me free rein, I'll come back at you when I have the get up and go.

please also let me know whether or not you'd be happy to have spoilery themes involved in the thread if the tag-in doesn't already make it obvious.

thanks let's get MAGIC and STRESSED

Comments

[rehandle]

[ as she softens, so does he.

there's been so much unpleasantness in the past 48 hours of his own life, the past 5 years of everyone else's. but this? someone has the quiet chance for something better. the universe goes on and promises tomorrow not just for her, but for someone else. out there, always, someone thriving. and now she brings that into his home, on the day he's orchestrated the passing of a parent and seen many others go despite him.

it takes the edge off, just some, just for now. enough that when he smiles this time, he means it. ]

I'm not surprised. [ he is, he's very surprised, but he's not surprised that he should look as stunned or that anyone else should be stunned in the first place. it's - stunning. ] How far along?

[ he's a brain surgeon, don't make him rough estimate a baby ]

[originallutece]

Two months.

[So not much at all, really. She comes around, nodding to indicate he ought to follow, because apparently they're going up to the bath. He's a little filthy, frankly.]

Though it feels much longer. I can only, ah, bring her to term when I'm within a world properly. Manifested, I mean, not simply passing through. You may see a great deal more of me over the coming few months.

[rehandle]

[ you won't see him arguing a bathward trajectory. Stephen follows on and when they reach the foyer and the cloak rejoins them, he doesn't bat it away. ]

You're welcome any time. As long as you like. [ not that she's ever needed to wait for an invitation before, but it bears saying. extended stays aren't their norm. but if she needs somewhere to be, there's more than enough space in the Sanctum for another. ] I'll do my best to maybe even be here sometimes.

[ haha. ha... as for the rest, the biological and dimensional logistics of Ros' baby's gestation are inherently interesting, but the more pressing question - ]

Her?

[ knowledge, or feeling? or both. ]

[originallutece]

[That's a sweet offer. Sweeter than she thought he'd be, truthfully, but she underestimates his occasional sentiment. She might even take him up on that, if only because she has missed him these past five years.]

A guess. Nothing more.

[Her, because she so badly wants a daughter. She's determined to adore a son as much as she would a daughter, if only because her own lady mother made her disappointment in her child's gender very well known, and she won't make that same mistake.

Still. Her, she says, and absently brushes a hand against her stomach as they head upstairs. The cloak is given a little nod, hello, you, but it's Stephen she's focused on.]

Though I admit, I'd prefer one over the other. Robert can live with two women in his life. I can cope with two men much less easily.

[rehandle]

[ a huffed laugh. if that's not a mood. ]

One day you'll stop punishing yourself by actively seeking us out.

[ men, that is. the cloak flits by them and down the hall, heading for the bathroom. the sound of pouring water, taps already turned. ]

You'd raise a good son. [ which isn't to wish one on her, just to say that she'd raise a man she could be proud of. but - ] But you have the force of will to twist fate around your finger. She'll be the same.

[ between the mother and the as yet unborn child, Stephen doesn't doubt they'll be able to conjure up a daughter. ]

[originallutece]

[Her mouth twitches at that wry assessment of her usual kept company. As he steps through the door, she turns her back. She'll likely end up with her back against the tub, but she'll at least give him privacy to undress.

How kind.]

Coming from you, that's worryingly more prophecy than flattery. I'm not sure which I like more.

Hm. Tell me when you're in the bath.

[rehandle]

[ it doesn't take him long. eager for the water as he is, Stephen waves all the fastenings and ties undone, steps out of his clothes as though they were the water he steps into a moment later. they're left unceremoniously dumped there at the head of the tub, the energy for neatness long since gone. ]

You're clear.

[originallutece]

[Carefully, she moves to sit down, nudging his clothes out of the way as she does. Leans her back against the tub, and some part of her relaxes just slightly, ramrod posture melting into something more casual. Not sloppy, no, never, but at least not quite as coiled up as she normally is.

There's silence for a fair bit, and then, quietly:]

I am sorry about your friend. He was unique.

But I find it admirable you could let him die. That isn't a trait most humans possess.

[rehandle]

[ in the quiet, Stephen sinks further into the water. a lift of his hand summons jars of salts and oils, petals and potions. it's ostentatious, perhaps. but he's not going to deny his muscles their medicine, or his mind its small pleasures.

then she starts in on Stark, and he goes stiff. ]

I don't think anyone would appreciate you calling him my friend.

[ they knew each other for barely any time at all... not counting the millions of parallel lives lived out in his head. and those can't count given the choice he made as a result.

he eases again. pulls on the shroud of mild humour, some forced lightness returning to his tone. like this has all been an odd game of dice. like he's played the odds and won, but not without placing some difficult bets along the way. ]

I don't know that I deserve a medal for successfully committing to a lever-pull in the trolley problem.

[ the choice was clear. for as much of a hole one man's life will leave for the people left behind, that pain is inevitably less than itself multiplied by billions. Tony Stark had his own choice to make when Stephen gave the signal and the cost of that choice was far too high. but he saw the odds. and he made the same decision.

there's no credit Strange could possibly be owed. ]