𝗦 ᴛ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ɢ ᴇ⠀⋆˙⟡⠀﹙ 🆕📌 ﹚

// might be a bit still until I can come back for rp. I'm doing work training this and next week and yesterday was a 12h shift x.x

// I didn't realize how long I've been gone aaaaa hi I'm not dead sjdjdj

// will be busy until tomorrow, but I wanted to put this here because I think it's neat 🤸

He jumped slightly and whirled around on his heels.

“Hades?”

A bright grin spread in his face.

with a skip in his step to discover — or maybe 𝘳𝘦-𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 — more of this strangely familiar world he had woken up to find himself in.

“And the King, most Royal in his Seat and Shadows for a Cloak,” he sing-songed to himself as he danced with the shadows amidst the City of Light.

The smile on his face widened into a grin. 𝘖𝘰𝘰𝘩𝘩, that’s what he had been doing here. He recalled it so faintly, yet it felt like the only thing he would ever need again. The peaceful quiet fulfilled him, and he walked on

and one he knew to be soft and fond and … a little bit bittersweet.

He touched his fingertips to his face in thought while the other hand lingered on the tree. He felt his own skin. His cheek, his jaw, the mustache on his upper lip, and the gentle plumpness of his bottom lip.

but smile from the memories. But they weren’t … his own memories, were they? Oh wait, that one was! Right by that tree. The bark felt exactly the same under his palm as it had done all that time ago. Right here, among the lights, the marble, and the laughter. He had a memory here. It was his,

they had been wearing naught but their very skin. Stephen averted his eyes, walking in the other direction.

He walked, and he walked, and he walked, until the grass changed into marble, and the path in front of him was lit by lanterns and festive lights. He couldn’t help

and resumed his walk, taking note of all the souls around him. They were all different and yet the same. All wandering, all at peace. That one had been poor, that one had been rich. That one had been wearing a fancy suit, that one a cozy morning robe, and that one— Oh lords,

and gazed emptily at him. They had kind eyes. Maybe they had been brown when they were alive, and maybe their clothes had been earthy. When they. . .

Stephen slowly stopped to a halt and tilted his head. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦..? What an odd thought to have. He shrugged it off

He wasn’t sure what word to use. Easy? Calming? This whole place was calming. It was so quiet and peaceful, and something about the flowers was still so familiar. When had he been here before, and why?

“What purpose does thinking have?” he asked himself out loud. One single soul turned their head

Unlike all the faded grays and glorious silver, he saw his clothes were red. Red and black, with a few hints of gold. Mostly black, he supposed. Where had he gotten these? They fit him so nicely, and they were very comfortable. He couldn’t recall when or where, but something about it all felt. . .

without aim, without purpose. Quietly, their faces blank and their clothes washed out of any color. Another knowledge clicked: so very long ago, he had been frightened by these souls. He didn’t remember why. They were just … there, existing exactly as he did. Or. . .

He looked down on himself.

𝘖𝘩.

so very long ago. Time moved differently here.

He started walking, still holding his hands out to the sides to let the grass and the flowers lightly drag across his palms. There. Ahead of him. Shadows within the shadows. Darkness that contrasted the dark. Figures. They walked similarly to himself,

This place — he knew it almost intimately. What was the name of it again? He knew it, but it was on the tip of his tongue. The veil, the. . . The corridor? The flower … 𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥? The valley. . . Valley of Memories. Field of Memories? Something like that. He’d been told the name once,

a memory all on their own. Beautiful and bright, despite their seeming lack of pigment.

Stephen lifted his gaze to look ahead of himself, and his mouth fell open. One single thing clicked into place. A single piece of a very large puzzle that he had so many more pieces to figure out.

through the tall grass, caressing the delicate flowers with his fingers. Something about them felt familiar and … fond. If there was a memory about them, he knew that it was a good one. They reminded him of … someone precious to him. He didn’t know who, but. . . Oh, but the flowers. They were

was green. 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵..? Or was that another memory that disobeyed him just as much as all the rest? Maybe walking would do him some good. Get his blood pumping and kick his brain into action.

Again, his movements were slow, almost sluggish. He stood and absently dragged his hands

He couldn’t recall, as his memories still betrayed him. Well, at least the grass was soft beneath him. Long, almost silken. Where was he, anyway?

He slowly pushed himself to sit up. A field. The grass was not only tall, but also … silvery..? 𝘕𝘰𝘵 Earth..? He was quite sure that the grass on Earth

had he been awake? Had he awoken more times during the night, or was this the first?

Stephen blinked as he gazed up and up and up into a fathomless sky. Something was off about the color, and about the lack of stars despite the darkness around him. Had he left Earth? When, and through what methods?

He gasped as he jolted awake. Horrible nightmares had followed him around for what felt like eons. He hadn’t been awake for. . .

He fell asleep after. . .

The memories didn’t come to him. On the contrary, they faded into a quiet whisper of a long-forgotten dream. Why had he been sleeping? How long

⠀
⠀⠀||⠀Ｆａｍｉｌｉａｒ Ｓｏｌｉｔｕｄｅ，
⠀⠀||⠀Ｏｈ Ｗｏｎｄｅｒｆｕｌ Ｑｕｉｅｔ
⠀⠀||⠀ᴀ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴏ 💫
⠀

+

They wail again, a screech that makes the blood run cold, before they turn their head. Their neck crack with the movement as if bone have broken, and they stare into the darkness.

“[Reader], you hallowed soul,” they speak, voice raking and echoing. “Do you fear an ancient ghoul?”

+

In an alley nearby, the mist glows faintly before it crackles with power, and out steps … 𝘯𝘰𝘵 Doctor Strange. The creature wears his face, but it’s horrendously twisted and riddled with scars. They wear his clothes, but they’re ripped and torn to show discolored skin beneath.

+

+

Down the streets, in a part where the street lamps have gone out and the darkness seem even darker than usual, magic lingers. A chilling, almost electric mist, like the remnants of a cloud of dust. There’s a crack in the road that continues up an adjacent building.

+

{ semi-open starter }

A harrowing wail echoes through the city. Faces turn toward the noise, kids that have gone trick-or-treating almost drop their bags of candy. Something is wrong, very wrong. Where did the sound come from? Who was it?

+

Stephen jumped back, a large glowing shield of magic held up in front of himself. “Who’s there?” he called out into the darkness. He could’ve sworn he’d seen something in the corner of his eye.

// quickly hides my three Dr Strange accs nothing to see here whistles 🎶