#mckiwiwrites

[mckiwi]

Heat of the Moment

To Read on AO3

"Heat of the Moment": Asia, 1982

Something is invading and killing the villagers of Jotunheim. Now sitting as king of Jotunheim, Loki reluctantly summons Stephen to help him save his kingdom. Stephen gets to prove magic isn't the only thing he's good at.

Genre: Comedy/Adventure/Murder Mystery

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki Laufeyson, and Thor Odinson

Words: 3,191

"You mean you can't just 'abracadabra' your problems away?" Loki asks with feigned shock. 

"Oh, please. First, Thor doesn't understand how e-mails work, now you apparently don't know what the term 'kidnap' means. Allow me to explain it to you, Your Royal Highness. 'To take someone away illegally by force.'" Stephen defines sassily. 

"I have no concern for your Midgardian laws, Wizard," Loki says. 

"You used the Bifrost to take me from my Sanctum! That's an invasion of privacy." Stephen chides, then adds, "And the preferred term is 'Master of the Mystic Arts.'"

"I didn't even want to summon you, initially!" Loki argues back. 

"Well I'm here now, and it better be for good reason!" Stephen snaps. 

"Trust me, it'll be worth your time." Loki says,  ignoring Stephen's unimpressed look at 'trust me,' "you're a doctor, or at least was one, yes?"

Stephen, baffled at why that particular detail of his life was being brought up, asks, "Correct, but what does that have to do with you rudely kidnapping me?"

"And you are the current Sorcerer Supreme as well?"

"Actually, that would be Wong. Though I'm a sort of unofficial second-in-command," Stephen explains. 

Loki didn't look as if he fully believed him, but carried on regardless. "I need your– your duty as a sorcerer– your assistance would be," he softly growls in frustration at himself, "you would be doing Jotunheim a great service if you would be willing to assist us in our time of need." Loki nods, satisfied with his request. 

As amusing as it was seeing the silver-tongued god struggle for words, Stephen wasn't that cruel. "Fine, I'll help. What exactly is the problem?"

His agreement seemed to at least ease some of the tension off Loki's face, "You see, two villages have been invaded, all civilians either killed gruesomely or reported missing. And we have no information on the creature suspected of these crimes. No trace of them to identify. Rather impressive, I must say."

Any irritation Stephen was holding turned into intrigue, "Yeah, I'd say that justifies as a problem."

"To put it lightly," Loki agrees. "Oh, and I did also ask Thor to assist. As much as I hate to admit it, we'll most likely be needing him."

"No arguments from me," Stephen says with a nod. "Why do you need my help, anyway? You're intelligent. A fairly decent sorcerer, too, despite how much you seem to love daggers."

Loki sighs, "You and only one other have ever managed to trick me. Surely for an accomplishment such as that there's something to be of use from you."

"Thank you," Stephen says with a small smirk. 

"That wasn't a compliment." Loki retorts.

"Sure it wasn't." 

"It wasn't!"

"Brother!" That was Thor, striding into the room. "Strange! You will be accompanying us on our journey as well? Loki, I see you finally decided to get help!" Loki narrows his eyes at Thor's word choice. "The more the merrier! How does life treat you these days?" He sets a hand on Stephen's shoulder with such force he nearly stumbles over like a bowling pin. 

"I'm doing pretty good. What about you?" Stephen asks. 

"I'm also doing well, thank you. Brother, how's your reign been so far?" Thor turns his attention to Loki. 

"All has been settled nicely with hardly any misgivings, our current predicament excluded of course. What of yours?" Loki asks with a hint of a prideful smile curling his lips. 

Thor answers, "New Asgard is coming along nicely. Stark has been kind enough to help us get settled as our own establishment." 

"I'll have to come by and visit soon, then. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to figure out who's killing my people now."

—————————

He had seen disturbing injuries in his time working at the ER, ranging from point-blank GSWs to a drunk man falling into a bonfire. (Charred skin is one of those smells you will never forget.) Never has Stephen seen something quite like this, however. The fire casts shadows across the walls as he crouches down to get a better look at the body. The Frost Giant man, albeit taller and bluer than the average male, has surprisingly similar anatomy to a human. "Even my interns at the hospital would've been ashamed of a Krocher incision like that," Stephen comments, hovering his hand over the sloppy gash. "About a 20° downward slope starting just under the rib cage. I'd say about 8 or 9 inches wide. I suspect an organ might be missing, too. You see the way the stomach caves in a bit more there?" He gestures to the area right under the ribs. 

"Do you have any ideas of what could've caused a cut like that?" Loki asks, crouching down on the other side of the body. 

"The stomach wasn't cut open, it was ripped open. I once had to treat someone who was mauled by a black bear. Looked a lot like this. It could've been caused by a claw, or dull instrument of some kind." Stephen explains. 

Thor asks, "You suspect one of the other villagers could have done this?" 

Before Stephen can answer, Loki chimes in, "They've invaded two villages. Surely a single person wouldn't be able to do this much damage." 

"Probably a creature of some kind then. How many do you think?" Stephen asks. 

Loki puffs his cheeks in exasperation, "How am I to know?"

"Not only were you born here, you're the king of Jotunheim. I assume you know what creatures live around here and if they come in packs."

"Oh what, so you knew what animals were around the place you were born?" 

"I was a farm kid, so yeah, actually, I did. Had to know what to protect the cattle from." Stephen stands up with a huff to stand beside the lit furnace, watching the flames devour the wood inside, and lets the silence sit for a moment. 

"Amazing how quickly fire can destroy," Loki comments, also watching the wood curl and flake away into the glittering coals below. 

"Or preserve," Stephen challenges, "I don't know if Asgard or Jotunheim has the same custom, but on Earth, we sometimes choose to cremate our dead. The flesh will decay, but the ashes, however... the ashes allow us to keep them close without smelling quite so bad." Loki snorts softly at that. "Should we cremate this body?"

"We have our own customs that I'll see to after we get things settled," Loki says. The trio watched the flames in silence for a few moments. The fire crackled and ashes rose to land on a nearby dusty shelf. "What're you doing?" Loki asks as Stephen approaches the shelf. 

He runs a finger across the wood, inspecting the layer of dust now coating his finger. "Did you know that dust is largely composed of skin cells?" At Thor and Loki's questioning looks Stephen announces, "I've an idea." With a sweeping of his hand, he gathers the dust into a loose but small golden cylinder. As he explains, the cylinder spins around rapidly, "this spell will act as a sort of centrifuge. It'll keep the skin cells in and kick the other particles out." As said, the spell released and only a few particles remained. Stephen draws the particles into his palm and slides his other hand over them. A thin, golden line follows. He pushes the spell forward and the line shoots out past the building, far past what they could see.

"Woah," Thor breathes.

Stephen allows himself a small, prideful smile. "No trace of them to identify, huh?" He asks, quoting Loki. 

"Shut up," Loki says as start to follow the line. 

—————————

As a Master of the Mystic Arts, Stephen is expected to have at least a basic knowledge of the nine realms, but he somehow underestimated just how frigid the place actually is. He's slightly jealous of the two æsir. Both Thor and Loki only wear their normal armor, yet still look completely unfazed. The snowflakes clinging to their hair is a mere fashion accessory to them. Meanwhile, Stephen is shivering even with four layers of thick clothing and the air itself hurts his face. His hands ache something awful, too. He can feel the cold metal beneath his skin and the way his blood vessels constrict around them. Thor's higher body temperature allows him to not feel the cold so harshly, and Loki's biology thrives in the cold. Goldilocks got it wrong this time. Being in the middle wasn't just right.

"The spell ends here," Loki breaks him from his thoughts. He didn't even realize the brothers had stopped walking. Stephen looks up from where he had been absent-mindedly stepping in Thor's larger footsteps in the snow, only to face the opening of a cave. The mountain range they had trekked the edge of hid the mouth like it was a sacred treasure to be kept secret. He probably wouldn't have even noticed it if Loki hadn't pointed it out. 

"Where is 'here,' exactly?" Stephen asks.

"I would imagine this is the pests' place of residence. Perhaps the villagers that have gone missing were brought back here." Loki answers. 

"Seems like a safe bet," Stephen concurs.

Thor says, "All-Father grant us strength and protection. Let us go, then."

"Wait, we're not coming up with a plan or anything? Loki, back me up here." Stephen cautions.

"What is that phrase you people of Earth use? 'Expect the unexpected'. That's our plan." Loki explains flippantly. 

"That is not a plan. That's just... going with the flow." Stephen scoffs.

Loki smirks, "Let's hope you're a good swimmer then, Strange." Loki starts walking towards the cave's entrance with Thor at his heels. 

"Oh for the love of–" Stephen sighs, but follows. These two idiots are bound to get themselves killed at this rate. 

The cave was dark the further they went in. Stephen had cast a night vision spell on the trio so they could explore without drawing attention to themselves. At least by light, that is. Sound is another issue. 

Loki hisses, "Could you possibly walk any louder?"

Thor huffs in a whisper, "I'm only walking as I normally do."

"We're trying to sneak in here, you big oaf. Key word there being 'sneak.'" Loki says. 

"I am well aware of that!" Thor insists, and at least attempts to soften his footsteps. 

Stephen matches his pace to Thor's, "Hang on, watch me. Roll your feet like this. Heel hits the ground first, then you roll to your toes." He demonstrates and Thor tries to copy his movements. "My father used to go fox hunting when I was a child and would occasionally bring me along. He taught me how to walk through the woods without scaring the animals."

"I never took you for a hunter, Strange," Thor comments. 

"I never did shoot anything. I would mostly just watch the birds and squirrels. It was peaceful out there. I would just tell my father nothing was out." Stephen whispers.

"Do neither of you understand the concept of being quiet?" Loki whispers back, giving the pair a side-eye Michelle Obama would be proud of. The ground beneath them starts to rumble slightly, only lasting a few seconds. A low groan echoes from the other side of the cave, which quickly leads to various more groans. 

The three stare into the darkness. The darkness stares back at them. 

Then blinks. 

"Run!” Thor leads the way, with Loki in the middle and Stephen trailing closely behind. They maneuver through the tunnels as hound-like creatures with long claws chase at their heels. Stephen turns around briefly to cast the Flames of the Faltine, leaving a barrier of flames between the trio and the creatures. Much to Stephen's confusion, the creatures aren't deterred from the flames, instead, they seem to bathe in the warmth. It almost stops him in his tracks, but a hand grabs him around the wrist and pulls him along. He hears Loki mutter something under his breath, probably an insult, before the two are off to catch up to Thor. 

They run through the tunnels until Thor comes to a sudden stop. He and Loki almost plow into him. Thor backtracks quickly from where he almost falls off a small cliff. Down below is a large ravine. The entire hoard of creatures scamper across small ledges alongside the walls. The floor is made of black, rough stone, and orange light leaks through cracks spreading throughout the stone. What catches their eyes though, is the giant creature in the middle. Over ten times the size of the other creatures, this one lazily has it's mouth open while the other creatures come by and drop small chunks of meat into it. He hears Thor suck in a breath beside him and follows his eye-line to see a Jötunn body tucked away into a crevice, its stomach torn open as one of the creatures roots around in his guts. It pulls out an organ. Smaller creatures, possibly the children, come and drag the body away, munching at the body's sides while doing so. 

"They're eating the livers," Stephen says, lip curling in disgust. 

Loki blanches, "No, Strange. They're feeding the livers to the Queen. The rest they eat for themselves.”

A pebble rolls across the ground, causing the three to whip around. A creature prowls closer, eyes dead set on Thor. Stephen casts Mandala shields at his fists, and the creature's attention diverts to him. He narrows his eyes in thought and dissipates the shields. The creature's attention is back on Thor. Stephen summons a heatless light in his palm, yet the creature’s attention remains on Thor. Stephen huffs a laugh, "They see in infrared!" The creature pounces at Thor, but Stephen uses the Bands of Cyttorak to contain it. It struggles and writhes in its clutches, but almost immediately calms when Stephen ignites flames around it. Thor and Loki circle as Stephen inspects the creature. Now that he had the chance to get a good look at it, he could see how its eyes were similar to that of a fox. "See, Loki? It does good to know the predators in your area. This one evidently seeks heat. That's probably why they sought out the liver. It's typically one of the hottest organs, and it matches with the type of cut we saw in the other victim."

Loki either doesn't hear him or ignores his comment, most likely the latter, and comes closer to the creature. "Varmesøker," Loki announces. 

"Bless you," Thor says. 

Stephen gives him a questioning look, "Varme-what? Is that what it's called?"

"Norns if I know. I just imagined it would need a name. Varmesøker means 'heat seeker.' Seemed appropriate." Loki explains. Stephen hums with approval while Thor nods. 

"Now to address the Varmesøker in the room, what're we going to do with them?" Thor asks. 

Stephen starts, "We could-"

"No," Loki interrupts. 

"You didn't even let me finish!" Stephen protests.

"You didn't need to. You were going to suggest we lure them all to one place and kill them with the thing they love so much. Fire." Loki says. 

Stephen gapes at him for a moment, "First of all, that was a bit morbid. Secondly... yea, kinda."

Loki sighs, "And that's why I said no. Your plans historically aren't the best."

"My plans have defeated the likes of Dormammu and Thanos, for your information. Do you have a better plan?" Stephen raises his voice slightly.

"Umm, guys?" Thor says.

"To lead them away we would need a heat source," Loki argues. 

"Good thing we have three right here with us," Stephen counters back. 

Loki raises a brow, "you're not suggesting we use ourselves to draw them away?"

"Loki?" Thor alerts. 

"While using my magic, I have the highest heat signature. I'm suggesting I lead them away while you figure out where your people are." Stephen explains.

"That would never-" Thor's hand slaps over Loki's mouth. 

"They know we're here!" Thor exclaims in a hushed whisper. Sure enough, one of the Varmesøkers is entering the cave while two more climb onto the cliff they are arguing on. Loki pulls the hand away from his face with a glare. All three creatures stare down Thor until their attention is brought to the fire encircling one of their companions. 

Stephen whispers, "Thor, blast the floor in the ravine. You need to break it." Before either has the time to question his request, Stephen summons the Flames of the Faltine once again, except this time, he keeps it on his person and takes off running. The Varmesøkers are quick behind him. 

"I'm going to figure out where they're storing my people," Loki tells Thor once Stephen's out of earshot then disappears with a gleam of green. 

Thor huffs, "Guess I'll just stay here, then." 

—————————

Thor observes the floor of the ravine carefully from his perch on the cliff. From what he could tell, the floor was composed of cracked obsidian, so the orange glow beneath it must be magma of some sort. He knew from his studies as a child that obsidian was a type of glass, so theoretically if he were to strike it with lightning, it would completely shatter. His main problem, however, was the Queen and other Varmesøkers still occupying said floor. As he prepared himself to unleash a bolt, he heard snarls and growls from at least three dozen Varmesøkers and running footsteps from a nearby tunnel, "Thor, do it now!" Strange yells.

With that, Thor let lightning surround his body.

—————————

"Thor, do it now!" Stephen yelled at the god. He didn't know why Thor hadn't yet opened the floor to the magma chamber below, but he needed it done now! He kept running through the tunnel, flame in hand, with the Cloak swatting away jaws that got too close. He was rapidly coming up with a plan B, but Thor must've heard his call and Stephen saw how lightning started to surround his body. It crackled around him, and the attention of every single Varmesøker in the area turned to him. Lightning blasted the ground below, and the obsidian fell away into the magma. Stephen ran up to the edge of the cliff edge, increasing the intensity of the ball of fire in hand, and dropped it into the chasm. The Cloak lifted him above the stampede of creatures as they fell after the fire, one after one, and into the firey pits below. 

Thor and Loki join him on a nearby cliff edge, watching all of the creatures fall into the magma-like shooting stars. Loki speaks first, “I found a few surviving villagers. I freed a few of the less injured ones to help the others with the promise to return after dealing with the threat.”

“I’ll help you bring the others back,” Thor says. Stephen makes a noise of agreement. 

Loki clicks his tongue and sighs, "I suppose that takes care of our murder problem, then. Looks like your plan did work this time, after all, Wizard.”

Stephen chuckles a bit to himself and does jazz hands with little effort, "Abracadabra!"

#mckiwiwrites #stephen strange #doctor strange #loki laufeyson #thor odinson #medical doctor stephen strange #jotunn loki #murder mystery #attempt at humor #alternate universe #post engame #nobody dies #background character death #description of injury #marvel #doctor strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #fanfic #marvel fanfic

[doctorofmagic]

@junoofthestars said:

concept: nightmare as a shapeshifter-esque villain who can take on different roles in order to properly psychologically torture stephen. like, wouldn't it be awesome if we got a scene where nightmare confronted stephen using donna's image?

and they could have different actors portray nightmare during different scenes and it'd be wicked

I love this concept so much cause, really, he doesn't shapeshift that much but he's the master of dreams so it would make perfect sense!! Also there's this one issue in which he was presented as a female so OF COURSE I'LL DIG THIS. I know it's hard for many actors to do the same character but that's a very interesting concept imo.

@wavy-arms said:

I'm honestly still pissed that Stephen only gets to mention his dead sister ONE time in a DOCTOR STRANGE movie but we had to see Wanda be sad about her fake-ass kids over and over.

Not the NFT kids having more focus than the actal protagonist knowing that they had a full tv show to explore them. This is going to be my joker origin.

@i-sudoku said:

I was just about to post about a missed opportunity. The Donna scene could have shown when Stephen stepped on the memory disc or whatever it was called in 838. That would leave deeper impression to understand who Stephen was and why he needed to "hold the knife". He could bond with America about losing family members and feeling guilty.

@mckiwiwrites said:

I love Christine but when he stepped on that memory plate, it should’ve been Donna.

Donna shaped who Stephen is more than Christine could ever hope to. It doesn’t even have to be the memory of her death, just a happy memory in general. The audience would see how carefree Stephen used to be, how happy he was, and the audience would think “why haven’t we ever heard of her then?” When Stephen talks about her death and gets choked up over it, the audience would be more sympathetic towards Stephen and have an emotional connection with her than just a name drop provided. Donna holds no meaning to people who don’t already know Stephen’s backstory. Plus, the line “but we don’t talk about that, do we?” would hold a lot more meaning, because “why haven’t we ever heard of her then?” That’s why.

(It would also make Stephen’s relationship with America have that much more depth.)

ALL OF THIS 👏

I think the animated movie did a better job at representing Donna's death's impact in Stephen's life, and how his need to control death is directly connected to his trauma. I know the circumstances are different from 616 (in the animated movie, she died in the operation room after Stephen refused to accept her cancer), but it always comes to this point in time. He decided to be a doctor when she got injured during their childhood. He was born to be a healer and I think the whole MCU failed to show this part of his subjectivity, which is sad. I can only hope that they don't drop the ball next time, especially now that Clea was introduced.

#reply

[doctorstrangeaskblog]

I need more doc strange fics, mun..! Do you know a dealer?

@sobeautifullyobsessed @mckiwiwrites

[aelaer]

About your MoM prompt idea with Tom Cruise Iron Man. (Both Chavez and Strange are captured btw, so that checks out). I like the idea and would definitely read it, and I also have a suggestion of how to make it angstier if you’d want. Stephen feels guilty for our Tony’s death, right, so what if this Tony uses the BARF technology to exploit that. Instead of using BARF to turn bad memories into good ones, this version does the opposite. Or something like that. Idk, I’ll leave that up to you. Just an idea if you wanted more room to explore that prompt.

Yeah I found the TV spot with Chavez (and what seems to be an alternate reality Christine, so that was something). Goodness knows how much they're gonna change around with all the reshoots they did in December and the rumors of more done, but I definitely have a few fears regarding MoM. I'm just hoping Ben's able to keep his character pretty close to what we know.

Anyway, I am attempting to keep this one-shot on the much, much shorter side so I can put more focus on other pieces, and I fear exploring that would just add on a lot of length that would take my attention off the other works I want to complete. But it's certainly an intriguing idea! If SIM does end up in MoM, it may be something to explore later. But for all we know, SIM is just a rumor that won't turn out at all. (Part of me hopes that, if only due to the fact that I'm really not thrilled at the idea of Tom Cruise being in the MCU in any capacity xD I'd much rather have.. well, almost any other actor, really).

#mckiwiwrites #ask #answered #my writing

[mckiwi]

A Series of Strange Events Posts

Yesterday

"Yesterday": The Beatles, 1965. After the events of No Way Home, Stephen finds a Midtown High cup in the undercroft. Assuming an invader has somehow made it past the Sanctum's defenses, Stephen decides to investigate, which somehow leads him to a lonely teenage boy. Who is this kid and what was he doing in the Sanctum?

Heat of the Moment

"Heat of the Moment": Asia, 1982. Something is invading and killing the villagers of Jotunheim. Now sitting as king of Jotunheim, Loki reluctantly summons Stephen to help him save his kingdom. Stephen gets to prove magic isn't the only thing he's good at.

#mckiwiwrites #doctor strange #stephen strange #main character doctor strange #marvel #doctor strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #marvel fanfic

[mckiwi]

End of Story

Part of her felt bad for the other dimensions, specifically their civilians. They always succumbed to Dormammu’s power without much of a fight, if any was given at all.

That is until her uncle tried to invade Earth.

“Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain.”

(The story of how Clea and Stephen first meet)

Clea was now 42. She didn’t know her father very well, as he had died when she was very young, only 35 years old. She hadn’t necessarily grieved for him, as it wasn’t in her Faltine nature. However, her Human heritage left her feeling… disappointed? It was an odd feeling, to say the least. Her mother had been nearly 200, or 30 in Human years, when she had gotten pregnant. Her father, an actual Human, was in his early 30s. As Clea grew, she saw how rapidly he aged. She watched as the grey hair at his temples overtook his entire head. It seemed his face gained a new set of wrinkles as each year passed. By the time she was 6 in Human years, he was in his late 60s. Despite the world they lived in, his death was quick and painless. While Clea would miss her father dearly, her mother acted as if she were expecting it. “Humans are mortal. They live, they die. End of story.”

Clea knew her mother only a bit more than her father. She was still alive, just not around anymore. She tended to jump around dimensions, actively trying to ignore the existence of her daughter. It was Clea’s birth, after all, that rendered her mother unable to convert back to her Faltine form in all its glory. Instead, she was stuck in her “weak and miserable” humanoid form. With both of her parents no longer in the picture, Clea’s raising was left to her uncle, Dormammu.

She quite liked her humanoid form. Some aspects of her appearance showed whose blood she belonged. She had her father's hair and her mother’s face, for instance. Others were purely hers, and these things she took the most joy in. Her eyes were blue, a rare thing among her kind. Her humanoid form also hid the Faltine power that ran through her entire being behind a seemingly harmless facade. She was still a child in the eyes of most other creatures, should they have the misfortune to meet her. (They may have entered Dormammu’s home without him noticing, but none ever left). In this form, she could approach other creatures and not have them run away in fear.

Clea was well aware of how Dormammu kept their dimension as stable as it was. In a dimension that actively collapsed in on itself, he needed to constantly absorb other dimensions and worlds to keep the balance. Her Human heritage once again reared its head and part of her felt bad for the other dimensions, specifically their civilians. They always succumbed to Dormammu’s power without much of a fight, if any was given at all.

That is until her uncle tried to invade Earth.

“Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain.” Clea heard a man call from beyond.

“You’ve come to die. Your world is now my world, like all worlds.” Her uncle declared. She discovered the voice belonged to a man, a Human man she realized much to her delight, as he stared up in defiance. She hadn’t seen one of those since her father’s death. Finally, someone that looked vaguely like her preferred form. He wore a blue outfit and a red, heavy-looking fabric at his shoulders. Around his neck, he wore an amulet with a green glow. That same glow circled his arm. Her delight was short-lived, however, as her uncle sent spears flying at the man. Clea’s breath caught as the man flung up an orange shield at the last second. Ah, she thought, this Human was a magician of a sort. She didn’t even know those existed. Despite the magics he held, they were no match against the ruler of the Dark Dimension, and they both knew it. Dormammu’s power tore through shield and Human alike. Clea released the breath she was holding. She found herself frowning at the scorched ground and turned away with a sigh. She shouldn’t be surprised. Yes, he had put up a fight, but ultimately he was Human. They live, they die. End of story.

She was suddenly hit with a wave of Deja Vu as she heard the repeated phrase, “Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain.” Clea felt chills run down her spine. She whipped around to see the source of the voice and sure enough, the man was back, whole and not injured save for a cut on his cheekbone.

She found herself in awe as she realized what had happened, as did her uncle. “What is this? Illusion?”

“No, this is real.” The man answered. Clea heard the hint of smugness in his voice.

“Good,” her uncle said, and this time the man didn’t have time to throw up a shield before two spears pinned him in place. He hung there limply as he gave his last wheezy breath. Clea noticed the green glow continued spinning around his arm.

A flash of green. He was back, unscathed.

Once more, the man landed on the small sphere and checked that the green glow was still spinning around his arm. “Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain!”

“You… what is happening?” Her uncle questioned. She’d like to know too, if she was being honest with herself. Never before had the Dread Dormammu killed someone and failed at it, let alone twice in a row.

The man stood tall and proud, “Just as you gave Kaecilius powers from your dimension I brought a little power from mine.” He raised the arm with the green glow, “This is Time. Endless, looped, time.”

“You dare?” Dormammu exclaimed and crushed him under his fist. Clea was not only shocked that this Human was putting up such a fight, she was also shocked at the fact he had elicited such a strong reaction from her uncle. Not even his sister’s abandonment had prompted such anger from him.

This little “weak and miserable” Human withstood Dormammu’s might three times now. Endurance like none she had ever seen. Most other creatures, both living within the Dark Dimension and those who didn’t, would pale at even the thought of facing off with Dormammu. And yet…

Clea was now 56. She returned to see how the human was fairing against her uncle. “Yes, but everyone on Earth will live.” The man said.

“But you will suffer,” Dormammu prompted.

The man smiled bitterly, “Pain’s an old friend.” He was quickly torn apart.

Clea was now 91. Every so often over the years, Clea would return to this spot to watch Dormammu’s prisoner, though at this point he seemed to be more of Dormammu’s jailer . Some of the man’s “loops” would last a short time, such as when her uncle simply stabbed him or obliterated him. Others would last longer, going on hours or sometimes even days. A few times Dormammu would simply leave the Human to die of thirst. It was during one of these loops that Clea got her first good look at the Human.

He was propped up against a rock, wincing slightly as he prodded at the cut on his cheekbone. He sighed and let his hand fall into his lap. The red fabric over his shoulders moved of its own accord and stroked at the injury. “Stop,” he muttered, jerking his head away from its reach. His face was rather narrow, but then again, it could be a perfectly normal look for a Human since her only experience with a Human was her father. He wore deep blue robes that seemed warm if the sheen of sweat was anything to go by, which made Clea wonder why he was shivering so much. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the rock, pulling his legs up to his chest. She briefly wondered how long a human could last without sustenance. She didn’t even know how long this loop had lasted already. His breathing deepened and she saw his head fall slightly to the side. She could say that he almost looked content if it weren’t for one of his legs bent at the wrong angle. “Can I help you?” He asked behind her.

She yelped and turned around to face a slightly transparent version of the Human in front of her. She gasped, “Are you dead?”

“Not quite,” he answered. “What’re you doing here, kid?” There was such concern in his voice that it startled her. He didn’t even know her. He certainly didn’t know she was the niece of his murderer.

“I’m not a kid,” she countered, “and that shouldn’t matter to you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, “I may not be a practicing doctor anymore, but I think I know a teenager when I see one. Are you okay?”

She swallowed and nodded,“Yes. Are you?” She gestured to his physical body.

He huffed a laugh and parroted, “That shouldn’t matter to you.” He blinked heavily. It was then she realized his eyes were blue, like hers. “Were you spying on me?”

“It’s not very often we have visitors,” she said, not admitting the fact that yes, she had been spying on him this entire time.

“No more, okay? I don’t want you watching when things go south. Though, I imagine you already have.” He speculated. She nodded. He blinked heavily again and sighed, “In fact, you probably need to be going soon.”

His hands were shaking yet he was sweating. She couldn’t help but ask, “Are you afraid?”

He set that piercing gaze on her, “Answer for an answer?” She nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid. I thought making Dormammu agree to my bargain would be much quicker. But it’s been… how many years now? 7 years since I’ve started this loop?”

“I was 42 when you first came here, and now I’m 91, so that sounds about right.” She agreed. His face twisted into one of pure confusion. Before he could ask, she reminded him, “Only one question, remember?”

He seemed to debate with himself for a moment before settling on, “Do you know of anything that might make Dormammu more willing to take my bargain?”

She pursed her lips in thought, “Well… Dormammu is the ruler of this dimension. He’s always had the freedom to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. With you here, he can’t do that. You’re not his prisoner, anymore. He’s yours.” She handed him the knife she kept with her. “Here, take it as a gift of gratitude if not good luck on your mission.”

“Promise me something,” he started, taking the knife, “You’re not to watch me die anymore. No more spying.”

“I promise. In return, I get one more question.” She compromised. He gestured with permission. “What’s your name?”

It had been a few hours later, but she couldn’t help but notice that the loop had reset again too soon. She didn’t quite know what that entailed. What she did know, however, was that she was incredibly proud of Strange when she next saw the loop.

Strange had taken a pretty hard hit and was trying to recover when Dormammu spoke, “You will never win.”

“No,” the doctor agreed and struggled to get himself upright. “But I can lose. Again, and again, and again, and again forever.” He stood not quite as tall and proud as he had been, but no less defiant. “And that makes you my prisoner.”

“No-”

Clea was now 105. She kept her promise, and at that, kept her distance. She heard rumors of Dormammu’s sudden absence. Some suggested that he and his sister had fought. Some thought he had taken a prisoner if the occasional scream of agony was anything to go by. Only she would know it was the other way around. Every so often she would leave some food and drink out for Strange, should he ever revisit where they had first met. The food and drink were always gone when she came to replenish it.

Clea was now 126. At the brink of adulthood in Strange’s eyes if he were to ever see her again. He’d still think her a child. It’d been long since Clea started to find the food and drink she’d left for him go rotten. Still, she left a new batch. Every time she came back, it was in the same place she’d left it.

Clea was now 147. The citizens of the Dark Dimension had begun demanding a new ruler to be named.

Clea was now 168. The Dark Dimension thrived under her rule. She’d discovered a dimension that projected enough energy to keep her dimension fed for decades if not centuries, while also preserving its own. The food and drink she had been leaving was once again gone.

Clea was now 203. Her mother had returned and begged forgiveness. She hadn’t granted it. Instead, she went to sit propped up against a rock. She pulled her legs up to her chest and watched as pests ate the food she had left out.

Clea was now 238. She’d begun to wonder if Strange had given up on the loop, or if he had somehow managed to kill her uncle.

Clea was now 273. She looked to be about the same age as Strange when they had met.

Dormammu returned as a failure. The Earth had been saved by Doctor Strange. This marked the first time someone had entered Dormammu’s home and lived to tell the tale.

Clea was now 343. Incursions had started appearing throughout the realms. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him. “Doctor Strange?”

He turned around slowly, warily. The grey at his temples had spread only slightly. There were a few new wrinkles on his face. His eyes were still the same blue she remembered from her youth. He looked at her skeptically and asked, “Can I help you?”

#clea strange #stephen strange #doctor strange #multiverse of madness #dormammu #time loop #extended scene #first meeting #fanfic #doctor strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #marvel #dr strange #mckiwiwrites

[mckiwi]

Badly Summarized WIP game

Rules: Pick a bunch of your WIPs and summarize them as badly as possible, then ask your followers to vote on which one they’d be most likely to read.

Thanks for the tag @hithertoundreamtof23

I tag @aelaer @foxinnersanctum @kedreeva @rosewrites @strangelock221b if y’all wanna do this

#wip game #mckiwiwrites #doctor strange #sherlock bbc

[mckiwi]

Happy Three Years of AO3 to myself 😂

#ao3 #mckiwiwrites

[mckiwi]

One Shots

Knocking on Death's Door

Stephen Strange was a doctor, a good one at that– a great one. He and Death had never been on good terms. She took his family from him, so he took his patients’ lives back from Her. He always stood outside of Death’s door, guarding it, keeping it locked away from others as best as he could. But Death comes for everyone, in the end.

Fighting Your Shadows

Someone is tormenting Stephen's thoughts throughout Multiverse of Madness.

Delusions of Happiness

What good is a Sorcerer Supreme to a world that's lost it's magic? What good is a heart to a man with no one to love? Sinister does this Stephen, like so many others out there, a favor.

End of Story

Part of her felt bad for the other dimensions, specifically their civilians. They always succumbed to Dormammu’s power without much of a fight, if any was given at all. That is until her uncle tried to invade Earth. “Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain.” (The story of how Clea and Stephen first meet)

Abraham’s Side

The time came when the beggar died, and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. (Luke 16:22) Angels are said to guide humans to their deaths, but what about other angels? Or rather, fallen angels?

#mckiwiwrites #doctor strange #dr strange #stephen strange #doctor strange fanfic #dr strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #Good Omens #crowley #aziraphale #innefable husbands

[mckiwi]

Whumptober 2022 Day 10: Stabbed

Characters: Defender Strange, America Chavez

Summary: Defender Strange's final thoughts if he were tricking America (Based on the headcannon by @doctorstrangeaskblog)

Strange stopped America just in time to avoid being captured. Unfortunately for him, that meant the creature retaliated by stabbing him in the leg. He couldn't stop the scream that escaped as the tentacle-like appendage pierced and seared through the muscle. He wanted to look at the damage, but he didn't have time as the creature roared in front of them. He quickly gathered some of the debris around them to create a barrier around the creature and sealed it shut with a grunt.

Even within the barrier, the creature pushed and prodded against his magic. He hissed as he tried to tighten the restraints, but the creature was persistent. "It's too strong! I can't hold it!" As long as he could get to th- nghhhh. Strange's face scrunched in pain and a cry of pain erupted as the stab wound flared up. He huffed sharply, almost sounding like a growl, as he bit back the increasing agony and focused back on the creature.

He continued the harsh breaths to get through the pain until he noticed the creature breaking free. The pained gasps became a gasp of fear. He wasn't strong enough to contain it. They needed to get out of there! He couldn't use his Sling Ring without dropping the shield. Argh! He knew he should've taught America how to use the portals!

Portals… she already can use a portal.

Strange realized what he had to do. They needed to escape, and America was their way out. He just had to scare it out of her. Act like he was taking her power, just enough to make her scared of him. She would probably forever hate him for what he was about to do, but as long as it meant she lived, he didn't care. There was only one way they would make it out of this. He slowly turned to America, "I'm so sorry. This is the only way."

America yelped as he started extracting just the barest portion of her power. Barely enough for her to feel it. "What're you doing?" She gasped.

"I can't let that thing take your power," he answered. 'Otherwise, it'll kill you,' went unsaid. "You can't control it, but I can!" He tried to persuade. Why wasn't she creating the portal? The creature was escaping!

"But we're friends!" She exclaimed. Strange melted at that. She still trusted him, but she wouldn't for long. Over half of the creature had broken free. He wasn't going to make it out of this. "You're killing me!"

He would die, never having been given the chance to apologize. To explain. Anything. Anything to get the fear out of his girl's eyes. She would live thinking he had betrayed her. But at least she would be alive.

His leg wasn't the reason behind the pain in his heart. Strange felt the tears start to pool up in his eyes, "I know." What was that one thing he heard in his dream the other night? He reassured himself, "but in the grand calculus of the multiverse, your sacrifice is worth more than your l-"

He finished his sentence with a scream as the creature impaled him through the chest. A wild tentacle slashed him across the face as it brought him up to eye level to examine him. He saw America below and tried his best to keep the attention on him, earning himself a pierced shoulder. Inevitably, the creature noticed her and flung him to the side. He landed with a thud and groaned as his injuries were disturbed. What made the stab wounds worse was that they were instantly cauterized due to the burning. He wasn't bleeding out to death, he discovered, but rather he was aging rapidly.

He heard a shout beside him and felt himself being dragged across the floor. He lolled his head over just enough to see America tied up with a star-shaped portal behind her. Finally. As his last act, he conjured mandala shields and flung them at her captor. America was dropped into the portal as he was pulled in.

The world was bright for a moment. Sunlight. And there was rough stone beneath his fingers, probably on top of a building then. Despite how bright it was, his vision was starting to darken. The last thing he saw was America leaning over him, fear, worry, but a hint of distrust etched into her young features. He let the darkness take him with the knowledge that he had succeeded. She hated him, feared him even, but she was alive, and that was enough. It had to be.

#whumptober 2022 #alt no. 11 #stabbed #stephen strange #doctor strange #dr strange #defender strange #america chavez #marvel #multiverse of madness #marvel fic #fanfic #doctor strange fanfic #dr strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #defender strange fanfic #character analysis #character's thoughts #major character death #mckiwiwrites

[mckiwi]

Whumptober 2022 Day 6: "I've Got a Pulse"

Characters: Stephen Strange, Wong, Original Male Characters

Summary: The 'Doctor' in his name is there for a reason.

Yes, Stephen understands the irony of shopping for apples. "An apple a day keeps the doctor away," as the saying goes. But perhaps today it was a good thing Stephen's never been one to listen.

Stephen didn't delve into his Midwestern roots often, but when he did, it was almost always for home-cooked food. Nothing quite compared to a homemade Apple Crisp on a Sunday afternoon. He was analyzing the quality of two apples when he noticed a ruckus on the other aisle. "Papa! Papa!" A frantic teenager clung to an elderly man collapsing to the floor. Instincts kicking in, Stephen rushed to the scene.

"What happened?" Stephen asked calmly, taking in the sight of the old man clutching his chest, gasping for breath.

"I don't know. My Papa, he just- he said his chest hurt, and then he dropped." The teen said, scared tears starting to brim his eyes.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Devan," the boy answered.

"Do you have your phone with you, Devan?" Stephen asked in what had been dubbed his 'Doctor Voice'. Devan nodded. "Alright. I need you to call 911 for me, okay?" Tapping the man's face gave him no response, even shaking him yielded no response. Pressing his fingers against the man's wrist, he felt no pulse. He tried to feel the carotid pulse at the neck with the same negative result. "Tell them he's in cardiac arrest."

Devan stared at him, "he's not gonna die, is he?"

Pulling up the man's shirt and positioning his hand on the man's chest, Stephen answered, "I've never lost a patient before, don't plan to now." One hand over the other with fingers interlocked, he pressed the heel of his hand to the man's chest. Falling into the routine of CPR was like riding a bike. One compression, two compressions, three, four, five. Almost immediately the pins in his bones started to protest, but he kept on. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one.

"What street are we on?" Devan asked.

Continuing with the compressions, Stephen answered, "Bleecker Street. The store's name is Bleecker Farm." Tilting the man's head back and pinching his nose, he began rescue breathing.

Devan brought the phone away from his face, "they're on the way."

His own breath starting to become a little haggard, Stephen said, "okay, thank you. What time is it?"

"10:27," the teen answered.

It hadn't even been two minutes yet and already his hands were getting sore. The closest hospital was a little over ten minutes away, plus response time, which meant the rest of the day was surely going to be miserable, yet well worth it if he could save this man's life.

By 10:30, the man's at least starting to breathe enough that Stephen doesn't have to perform rescue breaths quite so often.

10:31 rolls around and he's gathered a crowd.

10:33 and Stephen can feel exactly where his misshapen bones are. He can feel his pulse in his fingertips.

10:34 has only sheer willpower keeping him going.

10:35 comes by and Devan informs him the ambulance would be there in five minutes.

10:37 means twice now Stephen's had to use a small spark of subtle magic to keep the man alive.

10:39 and he's lost count of compressions somewhere around one thousand, three hundred fifty-six.

10:40 brought the bitter-sweet sound of sirens. His hands burned so bad they felt cold. He didn't even know how that made sense, and yet…

10:41 has Stephen nearly in tears when the ambulance arrives.

The stretcher comes out and the responders haul the man onto it. They take the man into the ambulance, and about thirty seconds later he hears a victorious "I've got a pulse!" from one of the nurses.

Devan's about to follow them, but right before Stephen tried to leave, the boy approached him. "Thank you! Is there anything you need? Anything I can do to repay you?"

Stephen thought about it for a moment before replying, "do you know what the greatest gift we can receive in this lifetime is?" Devan's brow creased in confusion. "The greatest gift we can receive is to have the chance, just once in our lives, to make a difference." Stephen conjured a card behind his back before handing it to the teen. "Go make a difference." Devan looked down at the homeless shelter, FEAST's, address, and phone number written on the card. Before Devan could question any further, Stephen had disappeared through a gateway back to the Sanctum.

Wong walked into the main sitting room, greeted by a pathetic-looking Stephen. His head was buried in his crossed arms and his hands were swaddled in ice packs. There was a bottle of pain relievers with a glass of water beside him on the table. "Hands bothering you that bad?"

"Mhm," Stephen mumbled, not bothering to look up.

Wong eyed him skeptically, "I thought you just went to the store to get ingredients for an Apple Crisp. You've only been talking about it for the past week."

Stephen once again mumbled, "mhm."

Sighing, Wong pulled up a chair to the table and took one of Stephen's hands in his own. When Wong starts to massage little circles across the back of Stephen's hand, he tenses with a small noise of pain before relaxing to the soothing motions. "How'd you get your hands so sore? I thought they only acted up on rainy or cold days?"

Barely peeking over his makeshift pillow, Stephen said, "had to perform CPR."

Wong paused in shock for a second, "why?"

Sitting up now, Stephen explained, "A boy's, who I assume to be grandfather, went into cardiac arrest, so I helped him."

"And by help, you mean you were stubborn and did the CPR by yourself." Wong chastised, switching to Stephen's other hand.

"No one offered," Stephen said. Wong just sighs, exasperated at his friend's self-sacrificial nature, and continues to massage his hand.

After a few minutes, he stands up to find the heating pads. "Go take a nap and use these," Wong says, "I'll cover your Sanctum duties for the rest of the day as long as you promise to actually take care of yourself."

Smiling slightly, Stephen took the heating pads with a small "thanks" before heading to bed. In a few hours, he'd wake up to the smell of Wong baking Apple Crisps.

#I've Got a Pulse #whumptober2022 #no. 6 #doctor strange #stephen strange #dr strange #wong #male original characters #marvel #marvel fanfic #doctor strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #fanfic #stephen is a doctor #hurt stephen strange #protective wong #wong is a good friend #mckiwiwrites

[mckiwi]

Whumptober 2022 Day 1: A Little Out of the Ordinary

Characters: Stephen Strange, Wong

Stephen had been grocery shopping the first time he felt it. (Putting spiritual above the material does not mean having no ice cream on the premises, Wong). As he was checking out, a masked man suddenly pulled out a gun and confronted the cashier. He couldn't help but stare at the criminal. Any bystanders would assume it was out of shock. A man was waving a firearm around, after all. Assuming he was shocked wouldn't be a far cry from the truth, but instead of the shock being born of fear, it was curiosity.

He's encountered plenty of criminals before ranging from tax evaders to serial killers, but not since the Scarlet Witch incident. This is the first time he's felt something so… off about a criminal. Whiffs of sulfur and the graininess of rust emanated from the man. "Hey!" Stephen called out as the man tried pointing the gun at the cashier. The criminal whipped the gun towards him instead, making the mistake of initiating eye contact. Both men shared a level glare, neither willing to break it.

On the edges of sulfur and rust was a flame, and with that flame, Stephen felt something else, not from the man, but himself.

A fire-poker in the form of a silent command.

The man slowly lowered the gun and backed up cautiously towards the door with his eyes never leaving Stephen. (Not that he could anyway, Stephen wouldn't let him.) With a quick glance at the cashier, the criminal darted out the door. Stephen just watched and pulled his jacket a little tighter around himself.

The second time was during a fight against an apprentice who wanted too much power too quickly. She was a good student if not a bit overly ambitious, so she turned to the quick and easy solution. Dark magic. She somehow successfully made a pact with a demon which allowed it entrance to this world in return for power. As demon deals usually go, she drew the short end of the straw and was now possessed.

It was stronger this time around, the sulfur smell. He could practically feel the rust crumbling between his fingertips. Feel the flames licking at his skin. A Master was thrown against the wall as the apprentice blasted him, eyes blazing red as the demon, the corrupted soul, inside her raged. Stephen felt a shiver travel down his spine as he let the ashes from the flame settle on him. Could no one else feel the chill in the air? He shivered again as the sulfur took over his senses.

The apprentice managed to pin Wong against a wall with a spell ready at her fingertips. She promised fire and chaos in her eyes yet Stephen had never felt more in control than in the middle of the blaze. "Stop," he commanded. The apprentice shot an arm out to dispel him but to no avail. The spell at her fingertips faded to nothing as she finally looked at Stephen. He countered with a raised hand of his own, trembling all the more with the oppressive cold he felt in his very bones. "Leave."

The girl doubled over and shrieked inhumanly as the demon inside fought against Stephen. He felt his vision darken and there was a startled gasp somewhere beside him. Wong. With a snarl, Stephen tore the demon from the girl's influence. It cried out curses and bestowed nightmares should it be sent back, but Stephen was unhindered. With a clenched fist, the demon was nothing but an already forgotten inconvenience. A puff of smoke.

It wasn't just Stephen's hands shaking as he lowered his arm and slid down the nearest wall to the floor. "Stephen," Wong approached him, "what was that? Why were your eyes black?"

"Were they? Huh. That's new." He said through chattering teeth. "Do we have any blankets? It's really cold in here."

Wong nodded toward the other sorcerers and they all left the room, taking the unconscious apprentice with them. Stephen hoped someone would come back with something warm. "You expelled a demon without the exorcism rituals."

Stephen looked at his friend, "yea, I guess. She was about to hurt you so I stopped her. Told the demon to leave."

"You 'told' it to leave?" Wong asked incredulously, "no, you commanded it." Stephen merely shrugged. Wong looked over Stephen's still shivering form with concern buried in his features. "How do you feel?"

"Cold," Stephen tried to joke.

"Like how you felt when you controlled the Souls of the Damned?" Wong asked in a hushed whisper.

Stephen inhaled sharply at the realization, "yea, actually. But really, do we not have blankets? I'm freezing."

"That's because you're not dead, unlike when you were puppeteering your variant's body," Wong explained and opened a small portal to a volcano. Stephen automatically leaned in towards the warmth. "Congratulations Stephen. You're corrupted."

#whumptober2022 #no. 1 #adverse effects #stephen strange #wong #marvel #doctor strange #multiverse of madness #fic #fanfic #mckiwiwrites

[mckiwi]

Whumptober 2022 Day 3: Hair's Breath from Death

Characters: Stephen Strange

Prompt: Impaled

Summary: Being impaled seems to be a common way to die across the multiverse

It occurred to Stephen one night, as he stared up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom, that just about every Stephen Strange across the multiverse had been killed. Granted some were only temporarily, such as himself on multiple occasions, but most did not walk away from their deaths. Thanks to the actions of his Sinister variant, he was sure there were even more Stranges than even he knew of that had died. Every Strange he's ever met or heard of had been murdered unless you counted Sinister's victims as suicides. Stephen still pondered that from time to time. He had technically killed himself, after all. Would that count as suicide or murder? What would killing yourself multiple times be considered? He could never figure it out and didn't want to risk asking someone else for input. They would think he's insane. Stephen's already thought that enough himself.

He still dreams sometimes, of other universes, and he always wakes up gasping for breath as his variant takes their last. Never before. Some were quick, such as the time Thanos decapitated a variant of him. Others were prolonged, like when Thanos separated him limb by limb using the space stone or when Defender had been stabbed by the creature trying to capture America. (She had dubbed the 'other' him as the Defender variant. She had also named the Sinister and Supreme variants. He once asked her what his name would be, to which she responded, 'My Stephen').

He almost laughs as the thought came to him. Three of four variants had been impaled. Himself by Dormammu and during the possible outcomes. Defender by the creature. Sinister by the fence post. He hoped Supreme's death was painless. Having a rod or spear shoved through your torso wasn't a nice feeling, then again neither was having your lungs fill with blood. He didn't know which was worse, actually.

Christine of the 838 universe had told him all Stranges were alike. She was right, he even admitted it. What she didn't know was just how much of a truth that was. He had told her not to let anything happen to America. He had used the Darkhold knowing it would cause corruption to save America. Defender's last act was saving America. Sure, Stephen had died on his own millions of times, but dying in your variant's body was a whole new experience. On his own, he had control of his actions and emotions. He wasn't just a puppet like he was in his dreams, forced to feel the phantom pains of death and the outskirts of love, grief, and guilt. So much guilt. Even as Defender lay dying, he felt such an intense fondness for America, guilt over leaving her and hoping she would make it without him. (Part of him wondered if that was why he got attached to her so quickly). It was almost enough to overshadow the agony of having a hole seared through his chest.

The other variant that had been impaled was Sinister. The variant that he killed. He couldn't think about that much. He couldn't think about the thousands of lives that variant had perished. That wasn't him. Couldn't be him. How could anyone with his same DNA do such a thing? Maybe he did himself (himselves?) all across the multiverse a favor by killing him. It was ironic, really. Poetic in a sadistic way. Have you ever had that dream where you're falling as if you've been pushed off a tall building? That was probably me. He wasn't wrong, in the end. Stephen had even gained a third eye like him. Had been corrupted for love just like Supreme, as well.

Maybe they were all more alike than even he realized. What makes Stephen Strange… Stephen Strange? Having your career ruined? Unrequited love worth dying/killing over? Apparently being impaled? Death? Was every Stephen's life purpose just to die?

Then why was he still alive? What was the point?

Stephen closed his eyes at that and rolled over onto his side, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

#whumptober 2022 #no. 3 #impaled #stephen strange #sinister strange #defender strange #supreme strange #christine palmer #america chavez #multiverse of madness #late night thoughts starring a lonely doctor #character analysis #fic #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #mckiwiwrites

[mckiwi]

Stephen Strange was a doctor, a good one at that– a great one. He and Death had never been on good terms. She took his family from him, so he took his patients’ lives back from Her. He always stood outside of Death’s door, guarding it, keeping it locked away from others as best as he could. But Death comes for everyone, in the end.

He should be dead. By all means, that wreck was supposed to have killed him. As he hung there suspended by nothing but seat belts, with blood rushing to his head and the cold-water biting into his skin, he knew he would close his eyes and never open them again. And yet, he did. If it wasn’t the wreck that killed him, then surely it would be the sight of his mangled hands. Why is he here? Surely Death would’ve taken him when She had the chance. Years he’d spent, cheating Death out of lives She had worked hard for. Well, he wouldn’t be able to cheat Her anymore, not with this new life, anyway. Maybe he had died, after all. Isn’t having nothing to live for just as good as being dead?

Stephen Strange was a sorcerer– definitely not the best, or even close to it, but he was decent. He’d found peace at Kamar-Taj. He found peace in the ancient books he couldn’t yet read and the sound of rain in the courtyard. He could heal his hands here, start his life anew and save people again. Then came Kaecilius and Dormammu.

It was hard to remember his oath to do no harm while staring at a dead man. A man that was dead because of him, no less. Stephen offered up this man to the claws of Death so that his own might be spared another day. Soon followed The Ancient One, accepting Death’s invitation after centuries of denying it. Sometimes he’d wonder why she looked almost relieved.

Stephen Strange was the wielder of the Time Stone. He locked himself in a loop to save the Earth, and all the lives he’d reversed in the process. Life and Death had a certain balance, and he was sure to keep to it. That old man on the street making stir fry? Stephen took a spear through the gut. The woman watching funny cat videos on her phone? Stephen was blasted into atoms. His life, over and over, in exchange for theirs.

During one loop, as Stephen was choking on his own blood, taking his final breaths, he thought he heard Death speaking to him. You don’t have to do this, you know? I could end this. You could end this.

Stephen Strange was a human man– and a human man shouldn’t have been able to experience fourteen million different lives and still be able to function. With each life came a death, then the cycle repeated. Despite what your kind thinks, I’m not cruel. Some see me as a bringer of peace. I could give you that. No, he wasn’t allowed to die. Not yet. The brain is an organ, too. It can kill you just as easily as any other if not properly cared for.

Fourteen million times now he’d robbed Death of his soul. He stood at the door and waited. Taunting, never coming inside, never even indicating that he’d wanted to. Occasionally he’d end up giving Death a few sacrifices, such as the likes of Tony Stark or Natasha Romanoff. Giving up such sacrifices took a toll on Stephen, much more so than he probably even realized himself.

Stephen Strange was a Master of the Mystic Arts, a good one at that– a great one. He and Death had grown closer over the years. She’d cut things short when the pain became too much to bear in the loop with Dormammu. She’d save him the agony of having Thanos shred his soul with the Soul Stone. He often dreamt of Her, and all the ways he’d finally get to be taken into Her arms forever. He’d spent years ripping people away from Her embrace. Now he understood why they’d be so upset once they came back.

In the process of trying to save America Chavez, he’d have to visit an old friend. To dreamwalk into his dead variant’s body, he’d first have to do something. He knocked on Death’s door. She answered with a smile and held out Her hand. He took it.

#mckiwiwrites #doctor strange #personification of death #several other characters are mentioned #talk of death #implied/references suicide #kind of? #car accidents #time loop #dreamwalking #near death experience #dr strange #stephen strange #doctor strange fanfic #dr strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel #fanfic

[mckiwi]

Whumptober 2022 Day 9: Caught in a Storm

Characters: Stephen Strange

Summary: A homeless Stephen is left wandering around Kathmandu with nothing to protect him from the storm quickly brewing.

Stephen glanced up at the darkening sky and then back at his watch. It was only four in the afternoon. It shouldn't be this dark so soon. The sky was quickly filling with clouds that promised heavy rain much to Stephen's dismay. He had hoped to find the Kamar-Taj place Pangborn had told him about sooner. Yet here he was, already one day into his search and still no closer to answers.

Stephen meandered through the streets for some more minutes, his repeated, "Kamar-Taj? Where's Kamar-Taj? You know Kamar-Taj?" a mantra he had lived by for the past few hours. He was interrupted as thunder rumbled throughout the city. Shops began closing their windows and bringing their products inside. It was when he saw the first few raindrops hit the road that he realized how much of a predicament he was in.

Once again, Stephen found himself approaching anyone he could find. "Kamar-Taj? No? Can I at least stay here till the rain stops? No? Okay…"

As the rain inevitably got heavier, Stephen got more anxious. Lightning raced from cloud to cloud and thunder shook the windows. Stephen pulled his jacket's hood over his head and frantically searched the streets. Eventually, he found a building with an extended roof, enough for him to get against the wall without being completely soaked. He even managed to find a milk crate to sit on.

Stephen brought his knees and arms into his jacket as day turned into night, and the air got chiller. He wishes he would've asked for a drink or food when he was asking for a place to stay.

After a long, restless night, Stephen ringed out his soaked jacket and set out yet again on his mission to find Kamar-Taj.

#whumptober 2022 #no. 9 #caught in a storm #stephen strange #dr strange #doctor strange #marvel #marvel fanfic #doctor strange fanfic #i appologize for this being short #mckiwiwrites

[mckiwi]

Whumptober 2022 Day 7: Shaking Hands

Characters: Stephen Strange, Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Summary: After being tortured by the Ebony Maw, Stephen's hands are shaking a bit more than normal. Peter is quick to make sure Stephen is okay.

"If it comes to saving you, the kid, or the time stone, I will not hesitate to let either of you die," Stephen hissed. Stark's face hardened in betrayal, prompting Stephen to explain, "I can't, because the fate of the universe depends on it."

Stark seemed to ponder it for a moment before concluding, "good. Moral compass. We're straight." He clapped Stephen on the shoulder fondly then turned to Spider-Man. "Kid, you're an avenger now," he knighted the teenager then turned to leave.

The kid, Peter, stood in awe and straightened his shoulders. Stephen would've laughed at the kid's antics if his head wasn't already beating in time with his heart. He slumped against the nearest wall and slid down to the chilly floor, bringing his knees up to his chest and letting his head rest against them. The Cloak tightened around him slightly, comfortingly. "Are you okay?" Someone asked after a few minutes.

Stephen lifted his head to find Peter standing a little way in front of him, watching Stephen as if he were an emancipated stray dog. "Yea, my face just stings a bit. I'll be fine in a little while."

"Are you sure? I heard you screaming earlier and I saw what that ugly alien dude was doing to you… that had to have hurt." Peter countered softly, sitting criss-cross in front of him.

"It certainly wasn't fun," Stephen admitted, letting his head fall against the wall, but still keeping his gaze on the kid.

Peter eyed his shaking hands, "are you cold? I could maybe find a blanket or something in here. Is that cape you're wearing warm?"

Stephen immediately tucked his hands into the protective folds of the cloak, "no I'm not cold, it's called the Cloak of Levitation, and yes it's warm."

"Oh, sorry. I just noticed your hands were shaking and the floor is kinda cold, so. I mean, ever since I got bit by that spider, my body temperature hasn't been exactly… human-ish. I feel the cold a lot more than normal people do. To me it's kinda cold in here… sorry I'm rambling."

"No, no. You're fine." Stephen said. He watched the kid fiddle with his thumbs, the same kid Stephen promised he'd let die for the stone. His face and body ached from the many abuses it had been put through in the past few hours, and this kid, this teenager who didn't even know him, was kind enough to make sure he was okay despite going through his own struggles. Most people didn't even do that for him after his car accident. Stephen sighed and shrugged the Cloak off his shoulders, "here. You need it more than me."

The sorrowful look in Peter's eyes vanished in place of pure, childlike wonder as the Cloak floated over and settled on the kid's shoulders. Peter gasped in delight, "this is so cool Doctor Strange! Can it talk? Does it understand me?" He started stroking the Cloak's collar as one would to the underside of a cat's jaw. This time Stephen did chuckle slightly, if not for Peter's reaction then the Cloak's happy rippling.

"My hands don't shake because of the cold. They shake due to nerve damage." Stephen confessed. Peter looked up at him quizzically, then in a moment, he understood. "That's what those needles that alien was using targeted, the nerves across my face. Minimal damage with maximum pain."

The kid's normally innocent, carefree expression scrunched into something dark, something vengeful, "I'm glad he's dead, then." Stephen hesitated before nodded in agreement, but froze when Peter asked, "how'd your hands get damaged?"

Stephen swallowed thickly, "car accident."

"My parents died in an accident," Peter eventually whispered and looked up when a scarred, trembling hand squeezed his arm sympathetically. Stephen smiled sadly at him, yet somehow it managed to cheer Peter up anyway.

"Hey, kid! Grab the Wizard and come look at this!" Tony called from the large visor overlooking the cosmos. Peter stood and gripped Stephen's forearm to help him stand as well. The Cloak slid off Peter's shoulders and nestled back onto it's master.

"Ready to get off this Death Star?" Stephen asked.

"This is nothing like Star Wars," Peter mumbled. Stephen laughed.

#whumptober 2022 #no. 7 #shaking hands #stephen strange #doctor strange #dr strange #peter parker #spider man #tony stark #marvel #marvel fanfic #doctor strange fanfic #stephen strange fanifc #hurt stephen strange #curious peter parker #infinity war #mckiwiwrites