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Stephen stares at the mess scattered around America's desk; various scraps–paper clips, pieces of paper and plastic, bottle caps, clay, and is that a chewed gum?–littered haphazardly over the entire surface. Glue sticks on different spots of the table, and glitter was thrown all over the place. He frowns, taking in the sight before him.
"Stardust," he calls. He hears footsteps coming down the hall, and soon America appears in the doorway.
"Yeah, dad?"
Stephen looks up at her, gestures at her desk, and says, "What's with all this…" He wants to say mess,but he realises this is a full and proper example of an artist's desk, so he isn't sure that would be the appropriate word. "...stuff?" he says instead.
America's eyes follow Stephen's hand, and she visibly holds back a wince. "Oh." She chuckles sheepishly. "It's, uh… It's my new project."
"Project?" he says, sounding intrigued.
"Yeah."
"You're making a project out of… all this?"
He is aware of America's little crafting hobby. He's just never seen the process she goes through.
"Yeah. Pretty much." She nods, "I just… happened to find them laying around and thought I'd… You know, recycle them. Make them into something."
Stephen's brows raise by a fraction.
"Ah," he says, "I see."
He hears fast footsteps tapping on the floorboards outside, and Peter suddenly comes into the room cradling various objects in his arms, running up excitedly to America.
"Here. I found them outside. This twig looks like a wooden fairy–" He hands America a small, wooden stick, "And these flowers and leaves look pretty–" he hands them to her, and America makes sure to hold them carefully so as not to drop them, "And pretty rocks!" Peter pours small pebbles into her open palm.
"Nice. Thanks." she says with a smile, carefully placing them onto an empty space on her desk.
Stephen frowns at the scene before him, but couldn't help a slight smile. The cloak detaches from his shoulders and flutters over to where America arranges her new materials, and America has to tell it not to block the light.
"So… we're doing this now?"
Peter turns to him. "Doing what?"
"Giving her random objects to craft out of?"
"Oh," Peter nods enthusiastically, a puppy-like grin lighting up his face. "Have you seen the flower crown she made me? I should show you. It's very pretty. Oh! And she made that over there." Peter points at the miniature mushroom house placed on her shelf.
"Wow," Stephen steps closer to admire her work. "That's certainly something."
He hadn't seen that when he came into the room. He notices the cloak swooshing over to marvel at America's creation as well.
"Starbust!" Tony's voice comes from down the hallway, "Oh, there you are." He walks into the room. "Here, have this."
Stephen frowns at the gun Tony gives her.
"Is that a…" Stephen glares up at him, "Tony, you can't just give her a–"
"Thanks, dad." America places the gun on her desk. She then carefully disassembles the parts– where did she learn to do that? –and once it's broken apart, she inspects each one.
Tony ruffles her hair with a chuckle. "That's my girl." Tony turns to Stephen with a raised brow. "You were saying?"
Stephen realises with embarrassment that his mouth is gaping open, and promptly closes it.
"I…" he trails off. "Is that even safe?"
Tony snorts. "Sure it is."
"I'll ask Harley if he has any spray paint left," America says, and leaves the room. The cloak perks up, and is quickly on her tail. Tony's head follows her until she is out of sight, and then he turns to Peter with a smug grin.
"Pretty sure I gave her the best stuff." Tony crosses his arms.
"That's not fair," he retorts, "I had to go pick stuff off the ground! You just gave her an unloaded gun. You didn't even take it apart first."
Tony shrugs. "She liked it, though."
Stephen shakes his head in fond amusement as they continue to bicker over which one gave her the best materials.
Well, if this is the game they're playing, then Stephen won't let himself lose.
*.~ ◇ ~.*
"Oh, thank you! We thank you so very much!"
The insect-like creature extends their thin limbs to him, and grabs his hand to shake it enthusiastically. Stephen manages to suppress a wince at the force of the grip.
"We wouldn't have survived if not for your help! We are forever grateful!"
"Not a problem, Master Serrz. I'm glad to have helped."
Master Serrz lets out a buzzing sound, a way to show their delight, and their antennaes lean down to tickle his face. Stephen tries not to dodge them.
"We must give you a gift in compensation. You deserve to be rewarded!"
"That's not really necessary," Stephen insists, "You really don't need to."
"Boogers!"
Apparently that was their way of saying 'nonsense'. It was the closest word his translation spell could translate it to.
"You've saved us. Gifting you is the least we could do. Pray tell, what must we give you in return, Master Strange? Anything; anything at all!"
Stephen considers it for a moment.
"Actually…" He bites the side of his cheek, having second thoughts, but proceeding anyway. "Do you happen to have–" Gods, he hopes this doesn't sound ridiculous. "Sticks, maybe? Or perhaps rocks."
Master Serrz tilts their head with a frown.
"Sticks and rocks?" they say, curiosity lacing their clicked voice.
"Yeah," He feels himself pinken in embarrassment. "Trinkets and such?"
Serrz just looks at him for a couple seconds.
"Are you sure?" they ask, "You've done quite a great deed. A deed that saved our species, in fact. Surely we could present you with a more–"
"No, no," he says, but then rephrases, "No, thank you. Just… Just those will do."
Master Serrz gives a low buzz, a sort of hum. He feels heat creeping up to the tip of his ears.
"If you insist…" They nod quietly to themself, "Very well. Just a moment."
Master Serrz turns around, buzzes about, and leans down to collect various things off the ground to tuck them into a small pouch. Serrz turns to him, and hands him the pouch carefully.
"This should do it."
"Thank you," Stephen accepts them.
"I must say, that is such an odd request for a sorcerer like yourself," Serrz states with a chuckle. Stephen's answer was a short hum.
*.~ ◇ ~.*
"Woah, where'd you get all these?" America's eyes are wide as she stares at the assortment of colourful, glowing gems. She picks a blue one up, and inspects them under the light. They glitter like sunlight streaming through the ocean.
"They're a gift from the Ssthal'n dimension."
America makes a face akin to when one eats a sour lemon.
"The insect ones?"
"The insect ones," Stephen confirms. "Do you… like them?" He refers to the gems.
"Like them?" America beams at him, "I love them! Look at these! I could make so many things out of these."
Stephen smiles. Looks like he's winning this game.
"I'm glad. I'll make sure to bring some more next time."
America turns to give him a hug. "Thanks, Doctor Dad!" She giggles, and Stephen couldn't help a chuckle of his own.
*.~ ◇ ~.*
The next following dimensional trips felt like little quests for him to collect various things for America. He's collected a few more glowing gems, glow-in-the-dark flower petals, scented leaves that the cloak seems very fond of, some sort of glitter that Stephen realises he shouldn't have accepted because they spread and multiply like viruses when you touch them, and non-harmful flaming sticks. He doesn't think he's ever seen more interesting things in his time dimension-traveling.
America seems to make use of them all–except the glitter, which was banned from use after their recent prank on Tony that took forever to clean up, although Stephen was tempted to change that because of how much blackmail material he has in his camera roll after–so Stephen keeps collecting various trinkets from different dimensions for her. The embarrassment was worthwhile, he thinks, because he gets to see the twinkle of joy in America's eyes every time he brings back the oddest objects.
Plus, she made him such wonderful crafts. He finally knows why parents like to display their children's drawings on the fridge. A recent one was a bracelet, with black, grey, white, and purple beads, which he thought was absolutely mind-blowing creativity, and he had worn it everywhere for a full week–he had explained with pride to curious sorcerers that his daughter had made it for him –before he realises it's best to keep it somewhere safer. Somewhere where battles don't occur and magical blasts aren't whirling his way.
It isn't until he visits the Korrythians' dimension, where a species of three-headed creatures with tentacles as legs and arms as well as fur covering their entire body lives in, that he realises what this trinket-collecting habit has led to.
He has just finished helping them fight back against a swarm of some sort of hyena-vulture hybrids, and immediately had civilians running up to him to ruffle his hair with their tentacles. Hair-petting seems to be their way of showing affection. Stephen has long since accepted his fate and embraced the weirdness of his life as a sorcerer. He's been through worse than a swarm of tentacles sliding around his head. This is nothing. This is just a normal Tuesday for him.
When all is over, Stephen comes back to their Sanctum to bid their Sanctum Master farewell.
"Master Strange!" Master Gorrath runs up to him, their tentacle legs propelling forward and sliding across the Sanctum's floorboards. Gorrath is a sorcerer he had met in a large interdimensional sorcerers meeting he attended to represent Earth a few months ago, and just a few weeks earlier they reached out to him to request aid on a matter involving an attack on their people, which he had accepted. "We thank you for your service! We are in eternal debt and gratitude to you. You are our hero."
Stephen nods, and nearly flinches as the head on their right suddenly starts speaking to him. He's got to get used to the multiple talking heads. It can get overwhelming. "We must give you a reward, yes, yes.. A grand reward! Yes! We have–"
"We have nothing. We didn't plan this, no," the head on the furthest left cuts in, "We didn't plan to give any prizes. We did not think we would win–not even survive, no, no–so no prizes."
Gorrath–the one in the centre–chuckles.
"Nonsense. Please wait a moment. Our savior deserves a reward."
Gorrath turns around, and Stephen tries not to accidentally overhear their chattering. It was barely comprehensible anyway.
When it seems like they've come to a decision, they tell him to wait as they go and pick his prize. A few minutes pass until they finally come back. There's some fumbling as they bring up whatever it is they wanted to give him, and Stephen finds himself staring at an assortment of… various things. He isn't very sure what they are. A couple of odd-looking rocks, some yellow-orange glowing sticks, and some sort of slimy, purple goop.
"Uh… These…" He stares at the purple goop. Several lids open suddenly to reveal eyeballs. The goop moves, makes a blubbering sound, and the sticks and rocks move with it. "These are very interesting, thank you."
Master Gorrath lets out rapid, repetitive, clicking sounds; their species' way of expressing that they are pleased.
"We are glad you like these prized possessions, yes!" Gorrath's right head says. "We have heard from neighbouring dimensions–yes, yes–that you have a keen interest in collecting little trinkets and… strange objects. Yes! What do your people call it? Ah yes, scraps."
"More like junk, no?" Gorrath's left head says. "Useless pile of junk…"
Stephen blinks.
"Ah," he says, "I was not aware of having such… reputation."
Centre-Gorrath nods. "It is indeed odd that a powerful sorcerer such as yourself enjoys collecting…"
"Scraps, yes!"
"No, no. Junk."
Centre-Gorrath lets out hissing, clacking sounds, which translates to a laugh. "You are the Mystic Realms' Trinket Hoarder!"
Stephen isn't sure what to say to that, so he just nods. He looks at the gift they gave him, and finds he doesn't mind. He doesn't mind at all.
*.~ ◇ ~.*
It took some research to ensure the purple goop isn't a threat, not wanting a repeat of the glitter incident, and some convincing to sorcerers in Kamar Taj (and various odd looks directed at him) that he could safely keep it. Luckily the purple goop was not their offspring or any of the sort–but a kind of excretion from their planet found in specific areas. The rest of the things–scraps, junk, whatever–took less convincing. They were harmless objects, after all.
*.~ ◇ ~.*
"Stardust," he calls when he portals home.
"Yes?"
America comes into view, and he walks up to her, careful not to drop the sticks, rocks, and… whatever that other thing is.
"Uh, here."
He thrusts the Korrythians' gifts on to America's hands, who looks at them with a frown but accepts them nonetheless.
"Hm," she says, sorting out the sticks and rocks and leaving the purple goop on her hand. It opens its eyelids, and they blink disorderedly and drowsily for a moment before blinking together in tandem. It crawls up her arm, over her shoulder, and she giggles as it tickles the back of her neck, goes through her hair, and settles atop her head. It blubbers.
"Can I keep it?"
Stephen looks at it. He shrugs.
"Sure, why not."
America lets out a cheer.
"I'm naming it Bob."
Stephen gives her a curious look. "Why bob?"
"It makes a 'blobob' sound. Hear it."
Bob blubbers again.
"Huh," Stephen says, "Bob it is."
America smiles as Bob crawls down to her hand and dances around her fingers.
"Welcome to the fam, Bob."
Bob jiggles as it continues to blubber.
*.~ ◇ ~.*
"You gave her a what?!"
"I gave her Bob," Stephen says, and points his chin down to Bob, who lays on America's lap. "Obviously, I've won."
"Wait, wait," Tony stops him, "The rule is to give her stuff to craft out of. You just gave her a new pet."
"Who said there were any rules?" Stephen says tauntingly, but a smile sticks to his words.
"Me. I said so," Tony shoots back. "So that thing–"
"Its name is Bob."
"Yes, Bob. Whatever. Bob doesn't count."
"Obviously I win because I gave her the most stuff," Harley says as he enters the room, placing a mug of hot choco on the table. "Your favourite," he says to America.
America smiles and lets out an 'ooohh' as she takes the mug to blow out the steam.
"What happened to quality over quantity?" Peter says from his spot on the couch. "She used most of the stuff I gave her. And they're top notch quality."
America sips her hot choco happily. Harley shoots Peter an offended glare.
"Excuse you, her latest dream catcher was courtesy of my stuff. And it looks glorious."
"But I give her cooler things," Stephen chimes in, and pauses to sip his tea. "They're from another dimension. Which makes them cooler."
Tony has a smug grin playing on his features as he says, "Listen here, Houdini. Mine comes straight from the lab. You know how cool those parts I gave her are? Now that's quality. Which is, well, obvious. I mean, this is me you're talking about. I always deliver more than I promise."
At some point, America leaves to her room as their fight continues.
*.~ ◇ ~.*
Gossip spreads in a way that only gossip ever does, and Stephen didn't actually expect everyone–and he meant everyone–to label him as the 'trinket hoarder' now. At some point, sorcerers from Kamar Taj have made him a special box labeled 'for the trinket hoarder', where they place all the scraps and trinkets they find from the ground or from their dimensional travels into.
Wong's reaction had been a "I don't even want to know", but Stephen knows that Wong's contributed to this in one way or another. He's seen Wong place scraps into the box, for Vishanti's sake. Stephen doesn't know what to think of that.
Stephen finds himself in a predicament. He thinks it's a bit too late to tell people that he doesn't have a weird junk-collecting fetish, but instead a crafty daughter who he gives random objects to. But gossip always spreads in a way that only gossip ever does, and he's gotten used to gossip a long time ago, far before he married Tony Stark, and even more so now.
So Stephen finds he doesn't mind. So long as he'll win this little game and continue to be gifted America's crafts, he doesn't mind at all.