lady_branwyn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lady_branwyn) wrote2019-06-20 07:04 pm
lady_branwyn) wrote2019-06-20 07:04 pm
Entry tags:
Marvel Crackfic
Back in 2016, I signed up for a write-a-thon fundraiser. I wrote fics for all of the prompts except one--"a good cloak." File this under "better late than never."
Title: The Secret Lives of Cloaks
Author: Lady Branwyn
Rating: PG
Source: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Characters: Dr. Strange, The Cloak of Levitation, Thor, OC
Warning: extreme crackfic, #IcantbelieveIwrotethis
“Let me do it,” the Cloak of Levitation flapped at him in sign language. “Remember what happened last time.”
Stephen Strange took a deep breath. “I’m a surgeon. I can clean a damn coffee pot.”
“This isn’t just a coffee pot. It’s a Charbucks Superautomatic Baristabot 3000 with superinfusers.”
“It’s a coffee pot,” Strange muttered as he flipped a lever, scattering coffee grounds all over the floor. Luckily, their manager was in back getting more half and half. At the flick of his fingers, the grounds flew into the trash can under the counter.
“Read the spell book first.” The cloak handed him the coffee machine manual.
“God, these diagrams look like something out of an anatomy textbook.” Strange looked up as a tall man in a red cape swaggered toward the counter.
“I would like an iced skinny latte. Very, very skinny. With negative calories if that is possible on this plane of existence. And a dash of cinnamon.”
“Thor! And about time. I was beginning to think they’d forgotten me.”
“Do I know you, sir?”
“It’s me! Dr. Strange!”
“Oh, of course! I did not know you in this strange uniform.” He smiled at his own joke, showing his blindingly white teeth. “And you are missing your cloak. Though now I see it over there. Greetings, Cloak!”
The Cloak of Levitation waved back.
“They said to meet you in this coffee shop,” Thor continued. “They did not say you were working here.” For no apparent reason, the hem of his cape started to flutter and dance in the still air of the coffee shop.
“The barista job is part of my cover, though I think it’s just to torture me.” It was often a struggle to refrain from using his magic arts on annoying customers.
“Who’s the cutie?” the Cloak of Levitation flapped to Strange.
“That’s Thor. We’ve worked with him before.”
“No, not him. I mean that red cape. He’s hot.”
They rang up the sale and made an iced skinny latte; then Strange told his manager that he was going on break and joined Thor at a table. The other customers stared as Thor’s cape continued to wave and shimmy like a snake. He smiled at them apologetically and tried to keep it still by sitting on it.
“We should go somewhere more private to discuss the mission. My shift’ll be over at three.”
“Good idea.” Thor batted at the billowing red cloth as it tried to escape. “I know not what has got into this cape. It acts as if it has a mind of its own.”
Strange suddenly noticed that the Cloak of Levitation was signing to Thor’s cape. “Oh, yeah. The version without Raymond Burr is so much better,” it said.
“His cape can communicate with you?” Strange asked the cloak. He had never seen Thor’s cape do anything besides look heroic.
“What? You sneaky bastard!“ Thor held up the red cloth and gave it a stern glare. “What other secret powers have you been hiding from me all these years?”
Thor’s cape gave a little shrug then floated over to the Cloak of Levitation.
“Hey, boss, OK if me and Floki go see the new Godzilla movie after work?” the cloak flapped with what could only be described as a hopeful look.
This wasn’t the first time the cloak had fallen for some superhero’s mantle, and Strange was always a little depressed that his clothing had a more interesting love life than he did. “Thor, OK if they go to a movie? There’s a bar around the corner where we can hang out and talk about the mission until they get back.” Thor looked like he need a drink or two or three.
“I cannot believe that my cape is a sentient being. How could I not have noticed?”
Strange restrained himself from making the obvious comment. Instead, he replied, “Your hammer has a name and comes when you call. How is this so different?”
“Point well taken.”
“Come on. I’ll buy you a beer—“
“A light beer.”
“A light beer, and we can raise a toast to the secret lives of cloaks.”
Title: The Secret Lives of Cloaks
Author: Lady Branwyn
Rating: PG
Source: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Characters: Dr. Strange, The Cloak of Levitation, Thor, OC
Warning: extreme crackfic, #IcantbelieveIwrotethis
“Let me do it,” the Cloak of Levitation flapped at him in sign language. “Remember what happened last time.”
Stephen Strange took a deep breath. “I’m a surgeon. I can clean a damn coffee pot.”
“This isn’t just a coffee pot. It’s a Charbucks Superautomatic Baristabot 3000 with superinfusers.”
“It’s a coffee pot,” Strange muttered as he flipped a lever, scattering coffee grounds all over the floor. Luckily, their manager was in back getting more half and half. At the flick of his fingers, the grounds flew into the trash can under the counter.
“Read the spell book first.” The cloak handed him the coffee machine manual.
“God, these diagrams look like something out of an anatomy textbook.” Strange looked up as a tall man in a red cape swaggered toward the counter.
“I would like an iced skinny latte. Very, very skinny. With negative calories if that is possible on this plane of existence. And a dash of cinnamon.”
“Thor! And about time. I was beginning to think they’d forgotten me.”
“Do I know you, sir?”
“It’s me! Dr. Strange!”
“Oh, of course! I did not know you in this strange uniform.” He smiled at his own joke, showing his blindingly white teeth. “And you are missing your cloak. Though now I see it over there. Greetings, Cloak!”
The Cloak of Levitation waved back.
“They said to meet you in this coffee shop,” Thor continued. “They did not say you were working here.” For no apparent reason, the hem of his cape started to flutter and dance in the still air of the coffee shop.
“The barista job is part of my cover, though I think it’s just to torture me.” It was often a struggle to refrain from using his magic arts on annoying customers.
“Who’s the cutie?” the Cloak of Levitation flapped to Strange.
“That’s Thor. We’ve worked with him before.”
“No, not him. I mean that red cape. He’s hot.”
They rang up the sale and made an iced skinny latte; then Strange told his manager that he was going on break and joined Thor at a table. The other customers stared as Thor’s cape continued to wave and shimmy like a snake. He smiled at them apologetically and tried to keep it still by sitting on it.
“We should go somewhere more private to discuss the mission. My shift’ll be over at three.”
“Good idea.” Thor batted at the billowing red cloth as it tried to escape. “I know not what has got into this cape. It acts as if it has a mind of its own.”
Strange suddenly noticed that the Cloak of Levitation was signing to Thor’s cape. “Oh, yeah. The version without Raymond Burr is so much better,” it said.
“His cape can communicate with you?” Strange asked the cloak. He had never seen Thor’s cape do anything besides look heroic.
“What? You sneaky bastard!“ Thor held up the red cloth and gave it a stern glare. “What other secret powers have you been hiding from me all these years?”
Thor’s cape gave a little shrug then floated over to the Cloak of Levitation.
“Hey, boss, OK if me and Floki go see the new Godzilla movie after work?” the cloak flapped with what could only be described as a hopeful look.
This wasn’t the first time the cloak had fallen for some superhero’s mantle, and Strange was always a little depressed that his clothing had a more interesting love life than he did. “Thor, OK if they go to a movie? There’s a bar around the corner where we can hang out and talk about the mission until they get back.” Thor looked like he need a drink or two or three.
“I cannot believe that my cape is a sentient being. How could I not have noticed?”
Strange restrained himself from making the obvious comment. Instead, he replied, “Your hammer has a name and comes when you call. How is this so different?”
“Point well taken.”
“Come on. I’ll buy you a beer—“
“A light beer.”
“A light beer, and we can raise a toast to the secret lives of cloaks.”