ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ (mysticism) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-05-19 13:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, marvel: carol danvers, ₴ inactive: stephen strange |
Finding zen when you weren’t in your own body wasn’t exactly as simple as one might think. But unfortunately, they had no choice if they wanted to set this right - and, oh, trust him. Stephen wanted to set this right; he was getting married in a matter of weeks and while he planned to have Carol involved in the wedding, he didn't necessarily mean he wanted to be in her body for it - the whole thing was just weird, and he wasn’t certain if the kiss of leaves on the ground was going to be a calming enough blanket to bring her to the right state of mind to cast the spell again in his body, using his magic. Not necessarily the kiss of leaves. Not the tangled underbrush either, or the pleasant tickle of hanging moss - not the scent of water, wood, the sea (lingering in the distance and a mere short flight beyond the mysterious canopy of green) or the chatter of squirrels (maybe other strange creatures, who knew) or pine that smelled clean and clear, like the earth itself and bitter tea. He’d much rather be brewing some of that bitter tea now, thanks. But instead he was traipsing toward a clearing, the Cloak of Levitation at Carol’s back (it could tell the difference, obviously, yet it was simply trying to be supportive of someone who didn’t have their usual powers of supersonic flight) and a whole bunch of energy surging through Stephen’s veins and his hands balled into fists that could punch holes in galaxies. Tempting, really. Might be a bit of sorely-needed stress relief. “Okay, let’s set up here,” he suggested, pausing in the clearing that appeared to be serene enough to set up camp; it would do for their purposes. He settled on the grass, wearing jeans and one of Carol’s band t-shirts - he hadn’t even bothered with a bra and that still didn’t stop some guy from trying out the wonderful ‘my dick died, can I bury it in your ass?’ pickup line this morning at the coffee shop. And how did that go, you ask? Apparently it was just a fracture, not a full-on break of his arm. Oh, and he’d be able to breathe through his nose again eventually. Probably. Anyway, that wasn’t going to let Stephen find zen. “We’re just going to try some meditation. Get into the right frame of mind for casting.” Carol was tired of meditating. She had been trying on-and-off for almost a full twenty-four hours now. Well, not a full twenty-four hours because, unfortunately, Stephen’s body required sleep that hers didn’t. Which meant she was losing out on time to fix what she’d fucked up because - her own hands, the ones Stephen was currently wielding? Fantastic for fucking up catcalling morons (and she would have done the same for that particular line, so well done, Stephen). Not so fantastic for casting, it turned out. That probably explained why things had so quickly gone to shit yesterday. She wasn’t even sure at this point if she’d actually felt that magic spark she’d been encouraged to reach for. More likely she’d just connected to her usual brand of energy and utilized it in a way it wasn’t meant to be utilized, because she was in a hurry to learn and fulfill her badly thought out plan, thus causing this insanely stressful situation. The worst part of it all was that now that she had gotten herself into Stephen’s body, she had to get herself out. He actually had the power to fix it all, probably with a snap of his fingers or whatever fancy finger waving he did. It was just a matter of connection, yet again. And while Carol wasn’t connecting to her own source of power anymore, she also wasn’t connecting to his, regardless of how much she meditated. She didn’t like this feeling one bit. She felt like a failure, and Carol Danvers didn’t do well with failure. Emme and Wanda had both taken a shot at setting this situation right, to spare her, but it hadn’t worked - perhaps predictably. Her girlfriend had even sat beside her, steadfastly ignoring the awkwardness (because she was amazing), and tried to encourage her to relax and let go of that head full of bad thoughts. It probably would have been more effective if she’d been just herself. As it was, she’d just ended up losing her patience and eventually crashing on the couch. Now, they were tramping out into the forest in some vain attempt to find zen away from civilization. Carol was doing her best to keep an open, clear mind, but it was no easy task. She was frustrated beyond her normal limits and grumpy after eight hours of frequently interrupted sleep (this chronic hand pain was no joke). But she would try, for Stephen’s sake as well as her own. She sighed and sat down next to Stephen - her own body - and folded his long legs. “Okay, meditation. Zen, casting, got it. I’d cross my fingers, but I have a feeling that would be a pretty bad start.” “Please don’t,” Stephen snorted. So much of Eldritch magic was hand gestures and finger tuts - a lot of it was intent too, but if he didn’t have his hands (broken as they were) he would be severely limited; it was a weakness, if you will. “You’ll end up accidentally summoning the seventh Lord of the Dark Dimension or something.” And let’s just say that would be the last thing they needed. They’d tried to fix this but they had been solely working in the Sanctum as a base of operations - maybe a chance of scenery would help, which was why Stephen had suggested the forest; there were all sorts of calm nooks and crannies to be found, and the sounds were peaceful. You know. Nature sounds - the air was heavy with them, with the scuttling of creatures and the whisper of the breeze through those aromatic pine needles. The kind of thing people used to buy CDs of and play at night when they couldn’t sleep. But it was true that a lot of magic was also about centering, about becoming one with your surroundings. “Remember that to make this work you have to let go - to have control, you need to give up control,” he murmured, and that was probably hard for someone like Carol who needed to be in control but also needed to be able to Handle Everything as well. Stephen identified strongly with that; it was why he’d been a blockhead in his dealings with the Ancient One at first. He sat lotus-style, slipping sneakers off to be barefoot and cozier. “I’d say think of something positive but maybe not thinking at all would be best,” he added, hands resting on knees with the palms turned up and fingertips touching. The seventh Lord of the Dark Dimension sounded appealing for a hot second there. Bet it wouldn’t take a being with that kind of title more than a millisecond to switch them back. Whether or not it would be something they’d do willingly and for free - well, that probably wasn’t going to happen, anyway, so it wasn’t something she should be wasting her brain power on. She very nearly scoffed at the line that, she supposed, was supposed to be her inspiration. To have control, you need to give up control. Giving up control was the absolute last thing Carol did. Ever. She had to be in control. If for no other reason than her powers and abilities could be devastating if she wasn’t in control. Oddly, Stephen didn’t seem to be having too much trouble. Maybe meditating was doing him some good. So, she took another deep breath and tried what he was saying. Think of nothing. Listen to the sounds of the forest. There was plenty to hear - birds chirping, squirrels chattering, even the gust of a warm spring breeze drifting through the forest. It was admittedly soothing, and the tension she was carrying started to ease. Even the pain in these hands seemed…less. Then, the sound of cracking, like someone had stepped on a fallen stick and she startled, eyes flying open in search of the threat. Stephen jumped as well, immediately rankled. Being in Carol’s body, having her powers, meant that he was just vibrating with energy at all times - he could feel it thrumming, pulsing, it was a current beneath his skin and truth be told he was damn terrified of breathing wrong and then accidentally blowing up the planet. Maybe not that dire but being a walking infinity stone was no joke, and neither was the amount of clenching he’d been doing these past twenty-four hours - both literal and figurative clenching. “Shit,” he breathed out and, oh yes, zen was gone. Not that he’d really found it much to begin with - but he was definitely on high alert now, scrambling up from the ground. “We need to get out of here.” He could sense it. Something. Though before he could suggest they flee (or suggest where to go), a visitor was upon them - its beady eyes glowed like little phosphorus balls, and the forked tongue darted out to hiss and taste the air; the creature was pure nightmare fuel, and gigantic to boot. It pushed a tree over and crashed through the brush, moving far faster than Stephen liked. “Nope, nope, nope,” he frantically tried to summon up the ability to do something, such as blast this bitch to space. All that he managed was a glow that made it look like he’d been fisting Gritty, the hockey mascot. “How do you work these things???” Well, even the cracking sound hadn’t totally prepared Carol to see that beast. A part of her was unsurprised - this was Vallo, and creepy things lurked around every corner, especially out here in the constantly shifting, twisting forest. And wouldn’t it be just their luck to come out here for a nice, zen day of trying to get their shit together - get her shit together, more precisely - and be forced to deal with this in the wrong bodies. If Carol was in her own body, this would be an easy fix. Fly, blast, punch - problem solved, with or without Stephen’s contribution. Sure, the thing was monstrous (in every sense of the word), but she was a powerhouse, crackling with cosmic energy. Which meant, right now, Stephen was, too, but they were in the same predicament - switched and struggling to control each other’s powers. They didn’t have time to consider the best course of action, though. All Carol could do was jump up as quickly as she could muster - no easy feat when she was half a foot taller than she was accustomed to and more gangly than muscled, but she managed. She reached out to grab Stephen’s hands - her hands - and take control. “Like this,” she instructed, grabbing and pushing those hands forward, blocking out the stabbing pain that followed the action. They glowed again but nothing happened. “Get angry! That thing is going to eat us if you don’t, and you already know I’m useless!” Get angry?? Okay, alright, Stephen could probably manage that - because truth be told, he was a little bit pissed off right now. The forest dweller had interrupted their moment of zen that they’d nearly been on the brink of accomplishing - and it had very sharp antlers. Also sharp teeth. Also it smelled like Hell, or the way Hell was often referenced in scholarly Biblical circles - a lake of burning sulfur, yep, it smelled like this creature had taken a leisurely dip into that lake and now was looking for a snack. “I can’t, I don’t - ” Stephen huffed, attempting to blast the creature but he couldn’t kickstart the power surge required to do so. They were both completely screwed and - “Oh wait, I’ve got it!” Well. It was at least enough of a spectacle to get the approaching monster to pause, when Stephen suddenly illuminated, glowing like the engine of a rocket, and then he just - shot up. Into the sky, a firecracker soaring toward the clouds, which wasn’t really going to help them because the monster was on the ground. “FFFFFFFFUUUUUUCK!” he screamed, tumbling, catapulting back at high speed, cosmic energies flaring so he looked like a star crashing toward earth. There was a crunch as he landed right on top of the monster - luckily instead of being impaled by the horns they just snapped off and disintegrated, no match for the binary form that could traverse space as easy as walking down the street. Then he was flung off, sent sprawling again by an angry beast that was scorched and burned, roaring, but not quite dead yet. It lurched, swinging angrily, doing the sad monster equivalent of sobbing. Carol’s jaw quite literally dropped when, instead of simply blasting the monster, Stephen went full on binary mode and lit up like a fucking flame. And then he was off, and alll she could do was stare because this was really fucking bad. Stephen couldn’t manage her energy blasts, nevermind flight. And sure, he’d be fine because she was essentially invulnerable, but going through that would probably be a trip... Well, at least his landing had come in handy. Hitting the monster with that much force and that much power had caused major damage. It wasn’t dead, but it was staggering, and Carol was hoping and praying it was beaten enough that whatever she could muster up would finish it off - or at least give them enough time to get the hell out of here. So much for the forest being full of zen or whatever. She huffed, shrugging Cloak off her shoulders because Stephen’s clothes had been burned to a crisp during his surprise lift-off, and she was still fully dressed, thanks. She took a deep breath, eyes narrowed and glaring at this beast. She could do this; maybe she wasn’t zen, but inner rage had to do something useful, right? She tried to start drawing those circles, tried to set her intentions and hope that was enough, but the orange circles were squiggly and faded, and these hands ached. Frustration circled back and got the best of her and she threw her hands forward, like she’d been trying to show Stephen, and swore at the result. “How the fuck did I forget you had TENTACLES?!” Yes, tentacles, shooting from hands, wrists, basically swallowing the length of both arms. She couldn’t even count how many there were and just stared for another moment, wide-eyed and panicked as she tried to navigate how these things even worked, how she could make them do things. Tentacles. Well, alright, Stephen definitely didn’t have that one on his bingo card - especially because most of the time even he forgot he had tentacles. He’d been trying to deal with the multitude of magic and power he’d come into when he and Strange Supreme merged, and that included working on shifting into the various creatures his other self had absorbed - all in an effort to figure out balance, really, because magic was about balance, even if sometimes he felt like an elephant trying to balance on a ball. But he’d also battled Carol on the mountain with tentacles as the star too, so - neither of them would forget after this, most likely. “It’s like using your hands!” he stumbled, feeling woozy from that impromptu flight, the way he’d just popped off like something on the 4th of July - but he had to make this work; they both did. “Pretend you’re doing a photon blast, directing the energy!” Grab the monster, choke it, throw it into the sun, whatever. Anything would work here. Though speaking of hands, his were going off - the cosmic cup overfloweth, and Stephen was the physical embodiment of ‘so anyway, I just started blasting’ as balls of energy shot from his hands, in every direction; up, down, all around, scorching debris and lighting the fallen tree trunk on fire; a few blasts hit the monster, but not many, and his main goal was the forest to not go up in flames. “Raggadorr’s nutsack!” he spat, trying to sit on his hands - but that didn’t work either because he just was thrown into the air again, everything a literal hot mess. At least Cloak had its shit together. It quickly transformed into a cape dress on the way down, covering Stephen so he wasn’t simply throwing naked fireballs out here. Small favors. Pretend you’re doing a photon blast, directing the energy! That was, by far, the most helpful thing Stephen had said to her since she’d kickstarted this whole situation yesterday afternoon. The tentacles did seem to be receptive to whatever it was she wanted them to do, and she flexed what she supposed were still technically still fingers and watched the tentacles curl in and out the same way. Fuck yeah! Okay, this she could totally handle. She wished there was more she could do about Stephen losing his shit with her powers, but one thing at a time. This was one thing that was more than enough at the moment. Now that she’d been the handler of these tentacles, they would be seared into her memory for life, she was sure of it. She stepped forward, directing the tentacles toward the beast and getting them to wrap it up. They curled around its neck, chest, bound its arms to its sides, and even squeezed those feathers (were they wings, maybe?) down against its back. She gritted her teeth, willing the tentacles to squeeze with all of their might until the creature started to fall to its knees. It let out this hoarse cry, quieter than the roars that had echoed around them before, but still resounding. “Fuck,” she ground out, feeling a pang of sympathy digging into her chest. This place was filled to the brim with monsters of all shades, and this one had wreaked its share of havoc on the way to them - that was clear from the state of the forest, although her powers setting off probably hadn’t helped matters. But it sounded so pathetic and - Nope. She shook her head, steeled herself again, and yanked back with all her might, swinging the tentacles upward and letting the (at the very least) unconscious monster skid hundreds of feet across the forest floor. The tentacles retreated, apparently content that the job was done, and she looked down at her hands - Stephen’s hands - in awe for a moment. If Stephen wasn’t so frustrated, he’d probably cheer - or give Carol a round of applause, either one. But she managed to use the tentacles and he was just so proud. The monster was on the ground, and Stephen couldn’t tell if it was still breathing - it was definitely charred, smelling like drippings caught in between the hot coils of a grill, complete with black flaky ash where some of its skin had been. Did he feel a little guilty? Maybe. ‘Do no harm’ was a big tenet Stephen lived by, and his forays into the ‘superhero’ life were always with the oaths he’d taken as a doctor at the forefront of it all (unlike a lot of the other Avengers, who ripped through civilian cities without much of a care as long as they got to take out the villain). But did he just want this shit to end? Also maybe. Actually, yes. “Nice job,” he complimented, zipping over to where the creature lay and cautiously uncurling fingers to give it a little poke-poke. “Maybe one of the actual hunters or Defense people want it for - ” KA-BOOM, the damn thing just exploded into a dust cloud similar to the way stars coalesced into planets, and Stephen’s glowing fists were the culprit again. “Okay, maybe not. I think it’s dead now.” Yes, Carol felt some guilt, she couldn’t deny it. Part of what she did required making these tough decisions, killing when she had no other choice, but that didn’t mean she liked it or it was easy. Even something like that, which was clearly some sort of hellbeast (possibly literally, since there was actual Hell here), there was always a twinge of uncertainty and regret. It was still a living being, and there was nothing simple about that. But then, Stephen incinerated it with her firehands, and what more was there to say? It was done and over with, and despite herself, she laughed. Not at the creature’s demise, just at the pure relief that shuddered through her. She had been running on panic and adrenaline, and now that it was over, she was just overwhelmed. “A little late there,” she snarked at him, all in good, playful fun, lips curling up into what was probably a very tired smirk. “We need to get switched back, that was tragic as fuck. And that was my favorite Pixies shirt you melted, bitch.” “Sorry,” Stephen huffed a laugh, actually feeling guilty about that too. “I’ll get you a new one, even if it won’t be the same.” Maybe he could find the exact band shirt on Vallo eBay or whatever - he figured he owed Carol that much, especially since he wasn’t exactly great at managing her powerset. How, in the name of the Vishanti, did she manage it, anyway? It was just so much - clearly they were learning a lot about each other, with this ‘walk a mile in your shoes’ thing. Or one shoe. Maybe no shoes. He couldn’t remember where he’d put his shoes during the calamity. Oh, well. He agreed about getting switched back right away, however. Clearly if they kept themselves in the wrong bodies, Vallo wasn’t going to survive the destruction or the tentacles. “Let’s head back to the Sanctum to regroup?” he suggested. “That was a lot and we’ll need to take a break before trying again.” Plus he wanted ice cream - he could actually eat real food without hugging the porcelain god, so he’d take advantage of that fact while they settled and calmed and went for another go at switching back. And he was depressed about killing that monster so ice cream would help - god, was he turning into one of those weird ‘save the hellbeast!’ nuts? Please yeet him into the sun. “Sanctum it is,” Carol sighed in agreement. She would honestly rather go anywhere else, but they’d have to go back to get more clothes for Stephen now that he’d melted his earlier outfit. “But not until we find your damn shoes. Fuck knows what kind of actual shit you could be stepping in without them. And you are not allowed to fly again.” She had managed to wrangle Stephen’s tentacles, but he had struggled much harder with her powers. They were a lot, and without being able to demonstrate, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do to help him learn control. It didn’t matter, though; if they took themselves out of the fight-to-the-death circumstances, he shouldn’t trigger them again. It took a couple of minutes of searching, but - aha! There they were, the pair of surprisingly unharmed Vans they were looking for, complete with Stephen’s phone sitting in the left. Next outing, assuming there was one, she’d make sure he put on her steel-toed boots instead - and her suit. Better safe than sorry. Where was he supposed to even put his phone anyway? Cloak was a great dress, but it didn’t have pockets. After the Vans went on, he just slipped the mobile device down the front of the aforementioned dress - that would do, and Cloak would accommodate to make sure he didn’t lose it. “If you have any other suggestions I’m all ears,” he said about their next steps. “I had a few nights at Columbia where I ended up naked and nearly shoeless and no change for the pay phone, so - this seems familiar.” He could handle it, was the point - and he’d just go back to clenching so hard to keep everything in check. If this was long term that wasn’t the best idea, he knew that, because the more you tried to fight something the worse the end result was - but this wasn’t long term because this wasn’t his body. He just had to hang on for a little bit longer. “Except you have tits and lady parts now, Strange,” Carol pointed out, hand slipped into the crook of his elbow to guide him out of the forest. Good effort, utter failure. “We’ll head back to the Sanctum so you can enjoy the lack of stomach turning and I can eat more alien cuisine. Yay us. Maybe I need to pick up a magic basics book and see if it helps at all.” She didn’t particularly relish the idea of having to sit and read magical theory, but if it would get them switched back, she was all for it. She missed her body and being able to kiss her girlfriend in it. “Just promise me you’ll change into something else as soon as we get back.” She loved Cloak - no offense meant there, pal. It was just a trip, seeing her body from an outside perspective wrapped up in something so…mystical-looking. Oh no, not magical theory. Whatever - if it meant switching them back, then Stephen would deliver the best of crash courses. Obviously the zen idea was a spectacular, down-the-toilet failure so they’d just have to keep trying. If nothing else, this experience was humbling. “Okay, I’ll change,” he agreed - because no, he imagined Cloak didn’t want to be a dress either. Cloak was a cloak. “And let me just - warn our people we’re coming back and it looks worse than it is.” For that, he took the phone out and typed in a quick text message (luckily his hands cooperated and he didn’t blow anything up), texting swiftly which was something his own stiff, scarred fingers weren’t used to (he utilized voice to text more often than not). There. Now to get to the nearest waypoint. And if they could accomplish that without anything going wrong, he’d consider it a win. |