4.0 - kitchen. [ In the kitchen, the sounds of activity. You wouldn't be exaggerating to think there were a small team of chefs working away at a meal, but enter and you'll find just the one man cooking.
One man and his small army of self-operating appliances and utensils: knives chopping tomatoes on a chopping board that helpfully provides itself, bread pushing itself into a toaster, water pouring itself over salad leaves. The only part Stephen seems to be handling manually is the dropping of strips of bacon into a pan, monitoring them as they sizzle happily away. ]
Put your order in quickly if you're hungry.
[ He's making BLTs, this is the only order he will accept. ]
7.0 - music room [ It takes a few days for Stephen to finally seek out the distraction of the music room. He's been in once before on his exploration of the station, but when his third night in space brings no rest his wandering eventually finds him seated at the piano stool.
Magic courses through his hands, easing neural pathways that usually snarl with pain, creating routes where damage has severed them, and with this help he begins to play. He struggles a little in places, the rhythm of it dips and halts and notes he aims for are replaced with easier alternatives, but the song is forgiving, and he's absorbed enough in the playing that he won't notice as anyone else comes in. ]
🔮 // PART III —
10.0 - the club [ The drink goes down too easy but it doesn't matter. This isn't real, there are no Sands of Nisanti hidden amongst the bubbles, let what happens happen.
What he doesn't know is that his newly cybernetic eyes are, among possible other things, lie-displaying. White lies he tells slowly bleach the color from his irises, more deliberate untruth turns them a bright gold. Which is going to come in handy if he can just figure it out, because his task in here is to say the opposite of what he means.
It's a simulation, but its realism is impressive. So, with that in mind, Stephen makes his way to the bartender for a glass of something less transformative. Catch him at the bar, sipping on a martini and watching the crowd with eyes that pierce gold. ("Nothing," he'd told the bartender when asked how he could help, and ended up subtly stealing a water to transform into liquor when the barkeep was off delivering more flutes.)]
🔮 // NETWORK —
un: strange
If you see/have seen a cloak flying around - red fabric, blue patch - kindly let me know where and when I wouldn't try to contain it, it's in a mood
( open to anything else too! if you'd like to plot anything out, feel free to hit me up at miscreates )
dr. stephen strange . mcu
4.0 - kitchen.
[ In the kitchen, the sounds of activity. You wouldn't be exaggerating to think there were a small team of chefs working away at a meal, but enter and you'll find just the one man cooking.
One man and his small army of self-operating appliances and utensils: knives chopping tomatoes on a chopping board that helpfully provides itself, bread pushing itself into a toaster, water pouring itself over salad leaves. The only part Stephen seems to be handling manually is the dropping of strips of bacon into a pan, monitoring them as they sizzle happily away. ]
Put your order in quickly if you're hungry.
[ He's making BLTs, this is the only order he will accept. ]
7.0 - music room
[ It takes a few days for Stephen to finally seek out the distraction of the music room. He's been in once before on his exploration of the station, but when his third night in space brings no rest his wandering eventually finds him seated at the piano stool.
Magic courses through his hands, easing neural pathways that usually snarl with pain, creating routes where damage has severed them, and with this help he begins to play. He struggles a little in places, the rhythm of it dips and halts and notes he aims for are replaced with easier alternatives, but the song is forgiving, and he's absorbed enough in the playing that he won't notice as anyone else comes in. ]
🔮 // PART III —
10.0 - the club
[ The drink goes down too easy but it doesn't matter. This isn't real, there are no Sands of Nisanti hidden amongst the bubbles, let what happens happen.
What he doesn't know is that his newly cybernetic eyes are, among possible other things, lie-displaying. White lies he tells slowly bleach the color from his irises, more deliberate untruth turns them a bright gold. Which is going to come in handy if he can just figure it out, because his task in here is to say the opposite of what he means.
It's a simulation, but its realism is impressive. So, with that in mind, Stephen makes his way to the bartender for a glass of something less transformative. Catch him at the bar, sipping on a martini and watching the crowd with eyes that pierce gold. ("Nothing," he'd told the bartender when asked how he could help, and ended up subtly stealing a water to transform into liquor when the barkeep was off delivering more flutes.)]
🔮 // NETWORK —
un: strange
If you see/have seen a cloak flying around - red fabric, blue patch - kindly let me know where and when
I wouldn't try to contain it, it's in a mood
( open to anything else too! if you'd like to plot anything out, feel free to hit me up at