It was day three of Stephen Strange's magical education, and so far, he had:
Burned his robe with a spark spell.
Called the Ancient One "Professor Baldilocks" under his breath (she heard).
Tried to manifest a portal and instead summoned a glowing doughnut that screamed.
He stood now in the portal training courtyard, shivering slightly as the sling ring bit into his hand. The other students were already forming neat ovals of golden light. Mark lounged on a nearby ledge with a scroll, watching.
"Focus on a place you know," Wong instructed calmly.
Strange gritted his teeth. "Like… my apartment?"
"Sure," Mark said. "Unless you left the gas on. Then maybe not."
Strange held out his hand, whispered the incantation—and nothing happened. Again.
Then, a spark.
Then… a portal. To a Taco Bell.
Wong blinked. "That's… oddly specific."
Strange shrugged. "I was hungry."
Mark grinned. "Congratulations. You've mastered late-night cravings."
Floating Fail
Later that day, they moved to levitation training.
Strange, feeling a little confident from his fast food portal success, approached the floating disc with swagger. The idea was simple: stand on it, levitate.
Easy.
He stepped on. It hovered.
He grinned at Mark.
"See? I am learning."
Then it flipped upside down and launched him directly into a snowbank.
Mark didn't even pretend to hide the laughter.
Wong solemnly held up a scorecard. "Seven. Good spin, bad landing."
The Book Incident
Strange snuck into the library again.
This time, his eyes were on a book that glowed slightly and had a lock shaped like a dragon's mouth.
Mark caught him mid-reach.
"Strange, are you seriously trying to open the one book that growls when people get near it?"
Strange looked defensive. "I'm curious!"
"That's how people get turned into soup."
"Is that a metaphor?"
"No. Ask Kevin. He's on ladle duty now."
Wong's Payback
Later, Strange found Wong meditating peacefully.
"Hey, Wong. Any tips on manipulating magical energy?"
Wong opened one eye. "Yes. Don't."
"Very funny. Come on—"
Before he could finish, his hand lit up with chaotic sparks and sent a mini thunderclap through the hallway. A statue's head rolled off and landed in his lap.
Mark walked by sipping tea.
"Wong show you the 'Dummy Spark' curse?"
Wong said nothing, but the faint smile said everything.
Reflection
That night, Strange lay on a cot, groaning.
His hand still tingled from the thunderclap. His hair was scorched. His ego had bruises.
Mark appeared at the door.
"Hey," he said.
Strange looked up. "Here to mock me?"
Mark shrugged. "A little. But also to tell you this is normal. We all fail like this."
"Even you?"
"I once tried to teleport to Kathmandu and ended up in a goat pen in Tibet. The goat still sends letters."
Strange cracked a smile.
"You're not the worst, Stephen. But you are trying too hard."
Strange rolled his eyes. "So what, I should just… let go?"
Mark nodded. "Exactly. Magic flows when you stop forcing it. Like breathing. Like music."
Strange sighed.
"…You're weirdly wise for a guy who thinks tea is better than coffee."
Mark grinned. "Magic rewires your soul. Also, coffee gives me anxiety."