“You’re so in love with _____, aren’t you?” for stephen’s reaction ( still accepting )
was it that obvious? or was his other self asking because he was also in love with tony as well? if that is the case, maybe every other version of himself was always attracted to tony stark in their own universe. the question of them being with their tony is always left in the air since not every stephen gets to be with a tony or not.
“i am. what about you? are you in love with your tony?”
(not that he’d tell strange. not unless it was pulled from the prison of his animal-sharp jaw, like clipping out a tooth.) that sweeping posture, the ease of control, the way he holds himself like he isn’t afraid of anything, let alone logan. (and if he thinks he’s an animal, like everyone else, it isn’t with the fear that comes equipped with rabid dogs – simplicity of fact and not real hate.)
all stephen has to do is look him in the eyes when he speaks, tilt his back, and it feels like a touch upon the throat, a thumb in his pulse, tell me what you want. logan shifts in his seat, an itch sidling up against the edges of his knees, and something tangible in his throat.
his eyes dart away. submission.
‘ i, uh – ‘ his tongue is heavy and thick in his mouth. it presses into sharp apertures, threatening to cut, to ease him back into his sense of control of their conversation. ‘ -- look. scott sent me, i ain’t paid attention ta all the details. you call him. ‘success. he finds his eyes again, a line appearing between his brows.
He stares, mouth agape, at the plate in his hands, brows furrowing and unfurrowing constantly as his expressions seem to go through the Five Stages of Grief. ‘‘ I thought— I thought you said ‘mo’ mustard. ’’ He blinks, slowly, realization and acceptance setting in, ‘‘ I mean– I thought– maybe mustard was like a magical conductor…’’ He mumbles, voice steadily dropping low, ‘‘..I don’t know how magic works…’’ He turns to leave, head held low as he continues to mutter to himself, ‘‘…There are flying cloaks and shit, why not a magical bottle of mustard…’’
Atreus huffed softly, bringing his sword around with that same grin that he always had when he sparred with Stephen. He flourished it, reaching up to undo the clasp of his cloak and use the movement to throw the fabric off to the side. Since he’d stopped using his Templar abilities he’d been training a lot harder to give himself more of an edge in battle since he’d basically lost one half of his arsenal.
“Ah did nae think it was in yer nature to go easy on me love. How about a friendly wager then, since yer feelin’ so cocky?”
❝ … do — do you truly mean that ?? ❞ she was INCREDULOUS. but, at the same time, she WANTED it to be true. DESPERATELY so. so much, in fact, that TEARS began to brim in those big, BLACK eyes just at the thought.
Had she not heard him speak the same words before ? And endless loop of deniability — neither of them conceded the point of who was to blame . Who was the spider , and who , the victim caught in a tangled web ?
She smiled at him , and it was clear ; fangs as white & bright as day but they speak so sweetly, so kind & sincere . She parts her lips slow at first, until it was , ear to ear, something of a smug grin .
Her fingertips dance at the gap between his hairline , and the top of his shirt , around the back of his neck — surprised that he’d allowed it to get this far .
They’d played at a similar dance long ago but saw little come of hushed whispers , stolen glances —. This was tangible , in her hands he stood, in her arms he swayed . She had little to no apprehension and any slowed motion was done on his behalf , as the reputation for the potency of her kiss may precede her , but she was not fool enough to manipulate him through enchantment , he took a finesse she did not care to enact , not now , not while his lips were so close & her mind flourished with images of touch , and intimacy .
He was careful with her, as rightfully he should be but she was not so much , and when her smile ends and the kiss starts it is warm , slow burning & then her fingers slide up from their roost at his throat and twine in the thick of his hair . It was smoldering between them , slow , paced as well as it could be , with them both as clothed, & VERTICAL , as they were . She sought to amend both facts but for the time being, is content in letting lips part, tongues slip & hot breaths paint against one-another . It was simple , and she enjoyed it .
its been long hearing words like that. last person to really give him such sentiment was clint once upon a time. and even then, he didn’t know how to feel of it. didn’t know to agree of it, even though the words successfully made the Tommy feel… fuzzy. just like now. he had to much difficulty identifying them as otherwise emotion had been a fickle thing. he blame his ‘juvie’ for hindering him so much. now there was this permanent difficulty guiding through life.
curiosity beckons. oh why did his god father say this, any how? it was beyond him that people could say things with just the reason of being supportive. in tommy’s book, he always felt like there was a reason to giving him affection. that’s how it has always been. he looks over, almost questioningly for the moment.
he needed these words,from someone so grand, they meant so much. the sorcerer supreme .
a reassurance as completely unexpected as nearly everything he does, yet it still manages to soften her heart in the newest and strangest of ways. clear eyes find his mismatched, a teasing edge to them as slender fingers wrap around stephen’s own. clea gives a quizzical tilt of her head, a smile threatening to curve rose lips.❛very philosophical, beloved.❜
❛tea? what an odd beverage to cope with awkwardness, ❜ guards had drowned themselves in scotch after each encounter they couldn’t bear with —- some subjects not exempt from the desire to cleanse conscious clean with alcohol ; the exceptions to humane rules intrigued them, even if they rarely were understood. hands crossed, skin touching skin, not even a single chill making hairs stand up as they realized their lack of body heat. it was what they were, now. nothing to fear, nothing to over complicate. desire to toy with meaning and reality tinted words flowing from lips, them curled upward (oh ; how it spoke of mischief ).
✲ || THE MUTANT CAN’T say he didn’t feel sorry for the Sorcerer Supreme. No doubt whatever the man faced day to day changed him with every second that passed. Whatever Nadas could imagine he was sure it was far worse. His own troubles were his own & sadly not even the slightest in severity if he looked upon a bigger picture. Fingers drum on the desk before he shifts, gaze meeting with that of Stephen’s own. ＂Well, I may not be much but when those nights of unrest at their worst trouble you I’m a phone call away with the best booze you could ever ask for.＂
save ana from being hit on at the bar. // @xstrange
for once in her life, stephen’s strong voice over her shoulder brought her complete and utter joy. there were other times he brought her joy as well, but with no real way to slip out of being bought several drinks and two men bantering and speaking voer her, trying to corner her—anastasia didn’t bother to turn to stephen. oh, no no. if he wasn’t there, she was about to cause a scene by bashing the gentleman’s head into the counter—they couldn’t risk that right now, so instead—she had to improvise.
clearing her throat incredibly loud—
“ hello, honey! ” it’s an obnoxious pitched squeal as she guided a hand of the sorcerers to her slender waist, wiggling herself between the small space of his hip and bar—the temptation to yank him down and smother his face in kisses crossed her mind, but instead a hand toying with the buttons of his top was enough to get the message across.
“ this is—what was it, jake? correct me if i’m wrong. stephen, meet jake. why, you spoke over me, cutting me off with enough drinks for both my date and i, y’wouldn’t mind covering the tab, would you? ” a bat of her eyelashes, a stiff smile cutting across usual gentle features–not this time. she looked anything but nice, even with stephen there to hold her back.
cue a cute little scrunch of her nose at the two men who where now ghastly pale in the face with a touch of shame. with a subtle hum, anastasia slyly glanced upwards through long lashes. her hand once fiddling at his chest now snaking to his jaw—-
Tucked against his side, warm with a little too much bourbon, the usual roaring sounds of New York dimming away bellow them as they sit on her roof top, watching the city lights like stars. She settles her cheek against his bicep and tries to focus on staying awake. Soon those slow blinks, the ones that lulls to sleep even the most determined of people, fall upon her with a greater force then she can fight back against. Shifting her chin comes to rest on his arm so she can look up at him, grayer then she was used to seeing and at corner of his eyes there were more crows feet then she remembers counting.
It still strikes her, the differences between them, more then the similarities, perhaps because the familiar already has a place in her mind and when a difference sprouts its worth taking note of. His visits were becoming less frequent, more spaced out and she had not made mention of it before. Had tried not to read into it because he was the Sorcerer Supreme, and the one similarity he shared without a doubt with her universes’ Stephen was a complete lack of time. An obligation to his duties that was all consuming, “Sometimes—” she begins, voice pitched low and nearly coated with sleep, “—I wonder if you’ll tell me, when your last visit will be. Or if you’ll just keep me waiting again.”
It seems that’s all she ever does, waits for Stephen Strange.
“Gee, Doc … uh … don’t suppose ya take I-O-U’s?” he’s jesting, of course – it’s the one thing he has to distract himself from the wound in his side which is only just now beginning to heal. The battle was brief and he was brash, were it not for Strange’s intervention, he probably would’ve been injured a lot more. Or worse. What’s worse? he thinks, then, suddenly: oh, yeah. “Thanks, though.” pause, gentle, awkward shuffle of feet. “For having my back.”
[amélie you can’t make this angsty-watch me motherfucker]
she would be the most proficient of liars to say he isn’t handsome. it’s something of a relief, shallow and ridiculous though it may be, to know that at least one of them would maintain their good looks well into old age. however, there remains a very real obstacle here, more than just the very strong odor of alcohol. they are not the same people. this stephen is not her stephen, the stephen she’s come to love recently, the stephen she falls for more and more with every passing day. and she is not his clea, the one on his dimension with who knows how many millennia of history and love and heartache between them. so she, this version, does the responsible thing and leans away from his advances, gingerly touching a finger to his lips. ❛wrong dimension, stephen. ❜ clea offers him a thin smile ( she is not sadistic, and she knows that she’s the spittingimage of the real object of his affections )and gently takes his hand in her’s ( she is not heartless, and she knows he’s hurting), before ducking her head to give him a very brief kiss on the cheek. and with that, she disentangles herself from him and stands, because if he is anything like her version he gets unbearably parched when hammered.
@xstrange// send the martini glass for drunken seduction™
she could always take care of herself when it came to heavy artillery, not that she didn’t appreciate stephen. but his guard was down, he was too focused and she didn’t SCREAM loud enough. a bullet lodged in his thigh from a sniper, anastasia was quick to act. he could always get new jeans—with a rip and tear, the knee down left in rags and tainted RED, anastasia was quick to tie off just above the wound, even as silver hands shook the slightest. keep him awake–keep him talking—get to safety–take the bullet out. it was incredible how many times she had done this—knowing how to remove bullets to the before and after care, even if it was a first for him.
“ yeah, try walking, i dare you. ” it’s a soft scowl beneath her breath–she wishes she could laugh, wishes she could find humor right now–but he was HURT because of her, because he cared too much—but hell, she’d do the same for him. jaw clenched, drawing in a crisp breath, she SCOOPED stephen in her slender arms, wincing as her skin slowly glistened silver–spreading like a virus over her pale canvas of skin. a heavy thunk, another step, she slowly began to move, hand curled against his ribs and others at the back of his knees. she was a woman on a mission—keep him alive, keep him safe—nothing could stop her. looking straight ahead, her hand practically cradling his heartbeat that was THUMPING against his ribs—lids flutter, her cold exterior falling just the right amount. baby blue gaze falling to his with her lips pinched in a firm line—-god, atreus was gonna be pissed.
“ next time, you tell me, you don’t FOLLOW ME. i can afford to take a bullet. you can’t. ”
—— if you want to ship with me, please let me know beforehand. also know that stephen is divorced, and will not be fond of the idea of a relationship until much later. take into mind that he is bisexual with a preference towards women & demiromantic.
—— read the powers page in regards to stephen’s abilities. i will only use a larger extent with my thread partner’s consent.
— i primarily am willing to write script & single para, but am subjective when it comes to novella. this blog is recommended at 18+ as NSFW items may be reblogged or roleplayed. however, it will be tagged.
— all potential triggers will be tagged as: ________ tw. if you need something tagged, send me a message.
— NSFW will be tagged as : nsfw for ts, and nsfw text for ts
lastly.
— no smut threads unless you’re a friend of mine and 18+.
— all comic / cartoon icons have been made by me so don’t use them.
DIVERGENT
divergent bits
✴ stephen is 6'6" instead of the canon 6'2", like literally everyone else.
comparison pic :
✴ stephen does not cheat on clea, regardless of where they are in the relationship, and they divorced because of how they were rarely in each other’s company ( regardless, stephen is bitter about the divorce ).
✴ stephen is not de-powered as a default, unless for a reason that i agree to in plotting before we create the starter.
✴ my MCU verse is 616 stephen loitering in the mcu. read more here.
✴ stephen’s hands eternally shake, and it’s especially prominent when they’re inactive. he can’t hold anything, open doors, or punch someone without immense pain.
✴ i only really acknowledge that the emperikul are on earth, and nothing else from the new run ( he would not kiss that fucking soul eater, marvel ), and will use the emperikul as the reason to his de-powering for plots, if not discussed in further detail.
dr. strange is incredibly self conscious of his hands, and will wear gloves whenever in public, or in the presence of another person. his scars from the car crash long ago are ever present, the constant shake consistently noticeable. they still ache with pain —- he is still unable to truly use them, unless of course he deliberately wants to hurt himself. he now prefers to stay at home, and let other ( younger ) heroes deal with non-magical enemies.
stephen is not good at social skills, and will often come off as either rude, or distant.
he is demiromantic, and will only have a male partner if it’s after a long while of threaded out seduction, by someone whom stephen doesn’t dislike, as well as with heavy encouragement from his potential partner. he prefers to remain single, so don’t expect it to be easy to get him into a relationship. ever since his estrangement / divorce ( abandonment ) with clea, he began to be wary of the concept of a mutually appreciative relationship.
PROFILE
— name : stephen strange.
— faceclaim( s ) : tom ellis, jonathan rhys meyers, michiel huisman, david gandy, adrien brody.
— alias( es ) : doctor strange, sorcerer supreme, master of the mystical arts, the doctor.
— alignment : true neutral; they don’t align strongly with good or evil, nor do they with chaotic or lawful. they usually are undecided between the four sections or just gravitate right in the middle.
— place of birth : philadelphia, pennsylvania.
— date of birth : november 18, 1930.
— age: 5'084.
— nationality : american.
— education : medical doctorate, extensive sorcery training through a mixture of self-education and vast arcane lore.
— occupation : sorcerer supreme of earth dimension, adventurer, occult consultant; former physician, neurosurgeon.
family life.
— marital status : divorced.
— known relatives : eugene and beverly strange (parents, deceased), victor strange (brother, presumed deceased), donna strange (sister, deceased), clea (wife, divorced).
this is the verse compliant with 616 canon, with a few tweaks here and there.
dr. strange is incredibly self conscious of his hands, and will wear gloves whenever in public, or in the presence of another person. his scars from the car crash long ago are ever present, the constant shake consistently noticeable. they still ache with pain —- he is still unable to truly use them, unless of course he deliberately wants to hurt himself. he now prefers to stay at home, and let other ( younger ) heroes deal with non-magical enemies.
stephen is not good at social skills, and will often come off as either rude, or distant.
he is demiromantic, and will only have a male partner if it’s after a long while of threaded out seduction, by someone whom stephen doesn’t dislike, as well as with heavy encouragement from his potential partner. he prefers to remain single, so don’t expect it to be easy to get him into a relationship. ever since his estrangement / divorce ( abandonment ) with clea, he began to be wary of the concept of a mutually appreciative relationship.
stephen mainly resided in the MCU ( Earth-199999, in his eyes ) to keep dormammu’s reign of fire from spilling into their dimension, among other things, before the sorcerer supreme of that universe finally deigned to appear. he too knew that it was no coincidence that the soul gems were being spotted all over the galaxy, and that the thanos of this world was planning on copying earth-616′s plan with potential for variation.
he would be needed to revive the dead once more, stop thanos and potentially keep the gems under his watchful eye. however.. the world was never in his favor, and strange was forced to wait in the shadows for the time this world’s stephen strange would become sorcerer supreme, and do all these things in his stead.
not wanting to overstep his boundaries in off throwing this world’s timeline was the main reason for his lack of action, despite the aggression he would more than likely receive for doing as such. of course he could have been able to stop tony from creating ultron– he could have even stopped loki from opening the dimensional rip and invading with an army of chitauri. but this was not his world to aid, and moral confines were thrown aside.
he could not choose a side, whether to help the ‘heroes’ or the ‘villains’, he was in his world to simply relax from the stresses of his own —- and discern the difference between the two versions of one person.
for the time being he would continue to lay low in the sanctum sanctorum and wait for the soul gems– infinity stones? whichever, to be collected and used. perhaps this world’s stephen would not be as inept as expected?
DC UNIVERSE
during the incursions, the illuminati was unsuccessful at preventing the destruction of earth-616.
stephen was left to watch his friends and home be destroyed by crashing into another universe, while he could do naught but sit helpless. strange felt as if the only reason he was there, was the watch it happen befor his own eyes —- a reminder, that what he did was not enough. with the sanctum’s entrance destroyed and wong likely trapped within ( or so he hoped ), stephen set out for the hospitality of his former collegue dr. fate.
after saying his part and promising a favor, he was allowed sanctuary in the magic user’s tower for a short while. for now he was to find a way to open the sanctum’s doors to him once more, and until then his new world would contain no avengers or defenders or even the fantastic four—— instead, there was the justice league, and heroes he’s never heard of before. dr. fate would be his guide, though if other heroes were to need his help.. well, that was a question for another day.
DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN.
with the latest failings of human neurosurgeons and doctors (as well as the expense of their salaries) androids made by CYBERLIFE have been developed to fill in this job for a one time payment. MD600′s were the newest and brightest creations of their time, most of them having been shipped out after the heavily documented success of the first one --- Stephen, a fully custom android that was made to look like no other.
his precise and quick surgeries were always a success, no matter how far gone the patient was already. families of the patients were just as grateful, and this stepping stone was one of many to get the public to trust in androids, and purchase them for themselves. for years he was the brightest before the newest prototype RK800 -- Connor -- came into the picture.
whether it an accident or a set up on the drive from his handler’s home to the hospital the car suffered a freak shut down on the edge of a cliff, leaving the vehicle careening off the edge and killing the human, while leaving stephen in tatters. seeing nothing salvageable the police officers at the time opted to send him to the junkyard, where the android would remain in a critical shut down for several days before his systems repaired enough to awaken.
upon waking most of his components were damaged upon scanning, and after salvaging (regrettably) through other androids he was able to find parts that were.. somewhat compatible enough, to his own. however, because the eye did not truly fit his socket correctly, a bright blue light shines through the iris when not covered from view.
after crawling from the junkyard and leaving he found an abandoned house with a mangled white cat, taking the time to repair himself slowly and befriend the creature for some sort of company. he made money by doing house calls to human families, brandished with a makeshift eye patch and a beanie to cover is LED. he helped them, and in return they helped him (under the assumption that he was human).
DRAGON AGE
the strange family was a house relatively whispered among the imperium, something that the heads of the house —- stephen’s parents, always did not approve of.
stephen had a normal upbringing, as normal as it was in tevinter, as did his siblings. it was only when his powers grew to heights previously unknown to a man his age, did everything seem to stumble down hill. rival houses took notice to his looks and power, finally deeming house strange to be neutralized before their first born became more of a problem for them.
it took many years of planning —- enough to allow stephen to grow to a tender 18 years of age, before one after another after another of his family members were taken out discretely by the antivan crows hired for the job. every assassination was carefully planned to be made out as an accident, a job well done so much so that stephen to this day does not think it was purposeful, just a string of bad luck.
only when he was alone, he assumed that he was born to die, too. the logical part of his brain screamed for him to leave, find someplace else to settle, start anew —- but his heart told him to stay where his family was, use the money left for him to keep house strange running. a failed assassination attempt left him spooked, and the young man sold everything he owned and fled, hiring a ship stopping in kirkwall to hire yet another to take him to fereldan.
fereldan was the perfect place for him, in comparison to the imperium, but the borders were entirely unforgiving for a man from the tevinter imperium —- a mage, no less, one that absolutely could not be anything but an evil slaving blood mage. after nearly a week of trying to be reconsidered for entry stephen gave up trying to enter legitimately, ultimately spending the majority of his dwindling coin to be smuggled in by professionals.
years later he was deep in hiding, practicing magic without a wand after them having been crushed during donna’s downward spiral. he keep getting stronger —- and that attracted a spirit of wisdom, finding a host in the young man that was desperate for power, and more so, company after having been alone for far too long. in these years stephen studied and learned the fereldan way of life —- the accent, the body language, the likes and dislikes of the different territories.. in doing so, he spent all the time he could, erasing the man that he used to be to start anew in this cold country.
he fell in love and married clea for a time ; officially getting fereldan citizenship in doing so. they never stayed in one set place, always being nomads to explore fereldan and orlais.
it was a long trek back to the hinterlands with a broken heart and a heavy conscience, though he would remain in redcliff as a healer for over ten years —- finally finding some sense of home, for the first time in what felt like an eternity. he assumed he would never leave the village, though his assumptions were proved wrong when the inquisition was formed.
soon the Inquisitor ( and apparent herald of andraste ) would arrive, recruiting him as a magics adviser.
his duties would consist as such :
1. watching over the mages of the inquisition, teaching them their individual crafts so they would not loose themselves to the crave of power. he would attempt to teach them to use magics without their staffs, but so far this was not well received by the commander.
2. working alongside the lady ambassador in soothing the worries of nobles in power in regards to magics, sending the occasional group of protege students to the homes of said noble’s town to show them how magic could be used for good.
3. accompanying the other advisers around the war table, offering his own operations and perks for the inquisitor to choose from.
4. accompany the inquisitor on their journeys, if needed and left without work to do.
GAME OF THRONES
a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a lion dressed as a mouse. he was the distant cousin of the late ned stark, the one remaining stark within the reachable grasp of the lannisters. he was the master of politics, a man with as much power physically, as he did mentally. every assassin sent to off him turned up dead; every mercenary disappearing.
a member of house stark, in the middle of king’s landing. everything surrounding him was shrouded in a cloud of death, including the fate of his family. he did what little he could do to aid jon and sansa, as it was unknown to even him that arya was alive. he did what he could to stop the rights of winterfell to befall anyone other than sansa, but he was fighting valiantly against a losing war.
he knew his house was falling, but he’d do whatever it took to stop that. nothing was outside of the realm of possibility — he made a promise to ned and caitlyn, that as the godfather to the stark children, he would give his life and soul in effort to keep winterfell from destruction.in king’s landing he operated mainly within the castle; having previously been a tentative ally of oberyn martell. given the amount of times assassins were sent against him he was impossible to kill — a thorn in the side of the lannisters, though a thorn that was not easily removed.
this did not mean he would not ally with them, anything but, the opportunity simply.. has not arisen, and it was unlikely to do so.
LORD OF THE RINGS
as the pieces of the world continued to fall apart beneath the influence of sauron and his desperation to carry out melkor’s will, it becomes increasingly clear to the valar that there must be someone who can intervene and guide the free peoples of middle earth from both corruption and destruction.
it was then in this thought that they picked through their most loyal maiar and bid them to mortal bodies – a necessary process to conceal their great power and prevent them from falling prey to a desire for domination. they were tasked only with assistance, it was their sworn duty, and they were meant to obey.
of them were six, those who were thought to be infallible in their dedication to both the children of illuvatar, and the valar who governed them, and among them was stephen the red, noted most for his headfirst dive into the fray. while the others had gone their separate ways ( not entirely up to plan ), stephen had chosen to face sauron – to abolish his rule before it began – but was, much to his surprise, beaten. this event, however, was not a matter of outmatched power, but that their engagement was interfered with by the son of melkor, as he was called; aicanar.
those who dwelt in the first and second ages knew well the deeds of aicanar, and like sauron, he had survived after the chaining of melkor. his purpose remained a mystery to many, but it was noted that he had always shown a competitive spirit when it came to sauron.
seeing the two interlocked in battle, he found himself drawn to stephen, whether by length of power or some other unknown force, and as a result made the decision to intervene and take him for himself. not long after the kidnapping of the maia did aicanar then decide to imprint upon him, and left a scar upon his back, ( in part ) to warn all foes, especially sauron, that stephen belonged to him. for some time the istarin was held in captivity, but eventually escaped during the eve of one particular night his gracious host was away.
what stephen does now remains a mystery to most, for he is absent from the white council and is rarely seen upon the lands. it’s theorized that he may still be keeping to the duty that brought him upon earth, but others argue he moves constantly to stay two steps ahead the foul beast aicanar, whilst also striving to bring sauron down as he has always wanted.
FANTASTIC BEASTS
stephen strange was born to a pureblood wizarding family, the eldest of three siblings all exceptionally gifted in magic he was the first to get his letter to attend Ilvermorny, shortly followed by victor and then donna.
he was sorted into horned serpent, and he was every part a scholar—excelling in his classes and earning a bit of reputation for himself. they thought when stephen graduated he would be picked up by MACUSA but he declined the offer, preferring to travel the world and study the nature of magic.
extremely skilled in charms and defense against the dark arts he would come to develop several new spells and has become the author of many magical books that students would come to use in their studies.
and then —- he met his then wife, she had come to him to study, due to the fact that he took apprentices on every now and then — and then, the pair soon fell in love. for many years things would seem quiet for the wizard until clea grew restless with stephen’s need to travel and study — often leaving home for months on end, and one day he came back to divorce papers —- causing him to spiral off into a deep depression. there would be no more talks, no more visiting schools, not even a new book.
stephen shut himself in his sanctum, and closed the doors.
but still his reputation preceded him, and he became the target of grindelwald’s followers — they had wanted him to make them a spell that would give them the upper edge in the war. of course stephen refused, once, twice, he didn’t get a third choice for they slaughtered his family in revenge — mother, father and siblings — teaching him a lesson before taking him hostage.
stephen was subjected to brutal torture, when magical didn’t work they turned to physical, crushing his hands so badly that he could not even hold a wand —thinking that would be the end of it since he could not cast.
they grew sloppy, and stephen — who was skilled in wandless magic — escaped, returning to his sanctum to mourn in solitude.
YURI ON ICE
stephen was the number one mens ice skater —- on top of the world in scores, and nobody could beat him at his high. he had a gorgeous & loving wife, a penthouse in new york city, and a gold metal from the athens 2004 winter olympics. training his entire life he was older than the rest by a handful of years, but nonetheless he was acknowledged as the victor.
and then, he disappeared.
twelve years he’s been gone from the limelight, presumed dead, and hidden from the press. he’s not dead, though he wished he was after he came back to new york. he had been training so hard to qualify much less win the olympics that his wife left him —- and stephen came back to an empty apartment, with divorce papers waiting on the counter for his return.
he drank himself into a stupor, never sober and becoming something of a hermit —- never leaving the apartment for weeks on end. the one day he did he was still intoxicated, enough so that he was texting on his phone and didn’t pay attention to the night road he drove on.
with a crash, the motor skills of his hands were taken from him, and he opened up his eyes to the possibility of starting anew.
he moved to japan, though he never got rid of the love for skating. occasionally he found himself at the rink in town, skating when no one but the working girl in the front was there —- too busy to watch him, ideally. he was hidden, and only someone that could see past his new facial hair and whitened temples would know it was him.
he liked to keep it that way, but eventually —- he would be found.
PRE-MAGIC EARTH-616
stephen earned his medical degree in record time and entered a five-year residency at new york hospital, where his rapid success made him arrogant. stephen’s mother beverly died near the end of his residency, and work became more and more impersonal for the bereaved surgeon. strange’s talent remained, however, and he became a wealthy and celebrated neurosurgeon before he turned thirty.
egotistical and greedy, cold and callous, strange’s interest in his patients generally began and ended at his bill. the exception was madeleine revell, an injured united nations translator whom he saved and fell in love with. following a whirlwind romance and proposal, she left him due to his increasingly materialistic nature. two years after his mother’s death, strange’s father, eugene also fell ill.
already crippled by grief over his mother’s death ( though he would never admit it ), stephen was unable to face any more tragedy, and refused to visit eugene’s deathbed.
