Independent portrayal of Stephen Strange | Marvel RP/Parody | 18+ | #πΎπππ£
Joined April 2023
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"Better the path I walk be mine alone,
hear now these words: let my fate be my own!" - ππ±π’ππ₯π’π« ππ±π―ππ«π€π’
Mirror descriptive
OCs welcome
Pansexual
N/SFW
Sitting in the Sanctum in blissful quiet, sipping a strong cup of tea and flipping through a heavy tome thatβs simplyβ¦ hoveringβ¦ before him.
Whatβs the point of having magic if you donβt use it for some mundane purposes after all.
// I really ought to sleep itβs 8:30 am and I misspelled βwatchingβ at least seven separate ways. All so wrong even autocorrect didnβt know what I meant.
Bbl. When I can.
βWhoβs making anything a thing?β
Stephen chuckles, watching the man creep up the stone steps to the Sanctum door, watching as he inspects the frame as if it would biteβ which actually was quite a real possibilityβ and pause at the threshold.
Despite his amusement the β
swans past him, cocky and self-sure.
Wrapped around the rails of the staircase twin serpents hiss gleefully.
βHeβs back! The sexy man is back!β
βOi! Enough with you two, shut it,β Stephen scolds the snake duo, but he canβt disagree with them.
At Lokiβs remark about the β
The nuances of teleportation are beyond a lot of those even versed in magic, and while he himself has mastered the art the warlock often finds⦠hitching a ride as it were⦠deeply unpleasant.
Lokiβs proves as smooth as silk, almost invigorating in the way the Godβs magicβ
slides against his own in an unavoidable intimacy only those with magic can understand.
Stephen exhales. Untangles himself from Loki, ascends the steps to the Sanctum proper and for a moment he glances back. Considers the God.
Then he opens the door and steps inside. β
βWellβ¦ itβs less about me and more about the Sanctum. Letβs be realistic.β
Lips curve up in a smile that finally meets his eyes, lighting them up with a genuine happiness that masks the exhaustion. Just a little.
βIt kicked me out once. For a week. Because I broke a table.β
That got a reaction. Stephen whips his head up so quickly it cricks his neck, lips part for words that his tongue refuses to articulate. The scarred hand that rests atop Lokiβs continues to tremble as it always has, but fingers curl slightly as if to hold.
βYes, if you wish.β
Eyes narrow briefly, then slide closed. Memories of their shared descent into darkness, the horrific canvas they painted across the landscape. The lives theyβd commandeered for entertainment.
βYes,β he murmurs. βPerhaps in comfort, perhapsββ
βHomeβ may be pushing things.
Regretting letting himself be so shaken by the embrace as such he couldnβt relish it, heβs already reaching up a hand to rest it atop Lokiβs lightly.
βFate says you, I make my own future says I. That said, I wouldnβt be entirely opposed should there be entanglingββ
The pseudo-endearment catches him off guard, though his face shows naught of it. Sea-green eyes may regain some lustre, should one delve into them.
βAh, friend. Perhaps so. Never have I known the shape of a friend quite as Iβve known yours, mind you, my dear NaΓ°r.β