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#his agent better be on that come on fam let's work this out
quincywillows · 4 years
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anyway last thing im gonna say from my unique stan perspective is disney+ cast peyton meyer as luke literally do it he’s right there he’s disney royalty they love him just DO IT
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destielfanfic · 3 years
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Destiel Fic Starter Pack
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Never watched Supernatural but wondering what all the hype is about? Then this is the post for you. If you have been on tumblr for some time or just from November 5, 2020, you may have seen a gif set or two or a hundred with destiel aka Dean and Castiel from Supernatural. @fandom​ even made a Destiel Is Canon post with short overview of basic facts! Are you interested but have no idea where to start? We know, we know. Life is hectic, 2020 is taxing and Supernatural has too many episodes to watch. 15 seasons and 327 episodes to be precise but who’s counting? Say no more, we got your back, fam!  You don’t need to have ever watched SPN to enjoy the fics on this rec post.
For fans who have never watched SPN, some basic facts - 1x01 starts with Dean Winchester (26 yo) professional monster hunter, picking up his brother Sam (22 yo), student at Stanford, and going on a one off monster hunt. For the next 3 seasons they travel around the country in their black Impala 67 hunting monsters, saving people. Castiel, Angel of the Lord and the multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, arrives in 4x01.The rest is shipping history. Check this 36 min YT video, The Story of Dean and Castiel  by deansbansee with all the best destiel scenes from S4-15. And now, fics!
All title links go to our fully tagged reviews.
1. If you want to read fics that are set in Supernatural universe but are not canon specific, your best bet is pre season 4 (our tag) and solo hunter Dean (our tag) fics where young Dean meets Castiel differently from the show, and fics that are very loosely tied to a specific season. And, if you’ll decide to watch the show later, you still won’t be spoiled!
A Distant Mirror by zatnikatel [NC-17, 14,700 word count, time travel, humor, smut, posted 2013]
Ad Astra - latin; “to the stars” by nhixxie [T, 17,400 word count, Castiel is a Star, posted 2013]
Broadway Musical by Griftings [M, 12,400 word count, humor, Heavenly Host, posted 2014]
Carnival Oasis series by violue [NC-17, 47,000 word count, 10 works, creature!cas, posted 2016-20]
Convenient Husbands by Annie D (scaramouche) [NC-17, 39,000 word count, garuda!cas, hurt comfort, posted 2012]
Do What Feels Good by catchclaw & cymbalism [NC-17, 12,500 word count, smut smut smut, posted 2014]
Everyone Is Trying to Get to the Bar by balder12 [NC-17, 8,400 word count, true form!cas, posted 2012]
Good One’s Gonna Be by remmyme [NC-17, 37,000 word count, professor Cas, posted 2017]
Kiss You When It’s Dangerous by zoemathemata [NC-17, 58,000 word count, FBI agent Cas, posted 2012]
Professional Couple Only by saltyfeathers [M, 37,000 word count, pretend boyfriends on a case, posted 2015]
The Request by cloudyjenn [T, 36,000 word count, wing!fic, posted 2012]
Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircase [M, 47,000 word count, student Cas, posted 2016]
Unknown Quantities by xylodemon [NC-17, 8,600 word count, fluff, posted 2014]
2. If you don’t want to bother with Supernatural canon at all, then you are still in for a treat. With 92,500 fics (December 12, 2020) and counting, destiel is currently the biggest ship on AO3. Destiel fics cover a lot of popular tropes and kinks but some are more popular than others among destiel fans. Angst, miscommunication, exploration of Dean’s low self esteem, Cas’s rusty people skills and general otherness are a staple of AU fics. But also exploration of one’s sexuality - internalized homophobia, coming out, bisexuality and asexuality are common themes.
All the Way by cadignan [NC-17, 81,000 word count, college AU, posted 2013]
Cinderwings by bendingsignpost [M, 182,000 word count, wing!fic, masquerade ball, posted 2017]
Kiss the Baker by ltleflrt [NC-17, 111,000 word count, rom com, posted 2015]
Not Part of the Plan by Annie D (scaramouche) [NC-17, 338,000 word count, 8 works, arranged marriage, posted 2013-18]
Oh What A Beautiful City by moosefeels [M, 27,200, a/b/o, omega Cas, arranged marriage, posted  2014]
Passing Ships by quiettewandering [M, 78,000 word count, not traditional soulmate AU, posted 2017]
Peace and Good Luck To All Men by kismetjeska [T, 32,400 word count, humor, Xmas fic, posted 2013]
The Return Policy by castielrisingabove [M, 32,500 word count, incubus!dean, ace witch!cas, posted 2018]
The Sawdust Men by linoresearch [NC-17, 123,000 word count, dystopian angst, posted 2014]
Scars by lemonsorbae [NC-17, 148,000 word count, young adults - punk!dean, nerd!cas, posted 2018]
Three Funerals and a Wedding by engaldnwouldfall [M, 25,300 word count, friends to lovers, LARPing, posted 2016]
True as It Can Be by whelvenwings [NC-17, 72,000 word count, modern retelling of Beauty and the Beast, posted 2016]
Unsolicited verse by dangerousnotbroken [NC-17, 68,700 word count, 5 works, posted 2016-18, smut smut smut]
Unwritten by porcupinegirl [NC-17, 75,800 word count, a/b/o, alpha/alpha pairing, posted 2015]
3. Lastly, for all fans who watched SPN finale and were left with a raging wtf was that? feeling, here’s 4 fics where Dean and Cas did a better job at restoring Heaven and 2 fics where living with disability was not the end of the world.
The Dance of Inanna by peppermintwind [NC-17, 106,000 word count, humor and adventures, posted 2012]
The Five People You Meet in Heaven by amarillogrande [M, 22,200 word count, Dean arrives in Heaven and meets his loved ones, posted  2014]
Holy!Dean Verse by bunnycaccool [NC-17, 120,300 word count, 5 works, very Dean centric, posted 2011-15]
These Are Not Real Problems by Annie D (scaramouche) [NC-17, 30,500 word count, post godstiel Cas arrives in Heaven, posted 2011]
The Breath Of All Things by kismetjeska [T, 65,400 word count, Dean in a wheelchair, posted 2013]
Kingdom Come by cheesewithmy [M/NC-17, 97,700 word count, Dean has a prosthetic arm, posted 2014]
4. Other fun things to check out. Destielfanfic has been a part of destiel community since 2012, and while we used to be much more active (see this post), we are still kicking around. Please visit our Tags Page and explore all the goodies there. We even have separate tags for every season so you can avoid spoilers when necessary. Some useful links:
Tags Page 
ask about iconic destiel fics for folks who just joined fandom
thematic fic rec lists with art (college, creatures, a/b/o, Hogwarts, Christmas - you name it, we have it)
check out our Pride posts for more fics that explore sexuality  - Pride 2017, Pride 2018, Pride 2019 and Pride 2020.
Still can’t decide which destiel fic to read? Try this brand new random fic generator created by @deanwinchestergender​  (not affiliated with DFF) or try Random button on our blog - top right corner and the sidebar (see this post )
also, check out the latest destiel fanart at our sister blog  @destielfanworks​ - Cas with rainbow wings can be found on #cas with wings tag and fanart that was created after 15x18 can be found on #destiel 2020 and #theysilencedyou tags, we also have a general #season 15 tag.
and here’s another destiel fic rec list for new fans by a destiel fic writer and a long time contributor to our blog, our friend  @no-gorms​ aka Annie D (scaramouche)
And last but not least. Thank you, Elena, @purgatory-jar​, for letting us to use your beautiful art! Link to the original art post. 
If you enjoyed the fic, please drop by the archive (AO3) and let the author know with your comments and/or kudos!  Please support artists by Liking and Reblogging their art posts! And if you found our recs useful, let us know by Liking and/or Reblogging our posts!
To our new followers - our anon is switched off for good but we are happy to answer your fic related asks privately. Don’t be shy and tell us which destiel fic made you into a shipper. We may even make a rec post if we get enough fic suggestions!
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letarasstuff · 3 years
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One kind of intern
(A/N): This was requested by @greenslifestuff :) It took me a week or two because I had to interact with my friends in order to get the inspiration I needed 😅 Summary: The team gets to work with a gen z teenager. Let’s see how that goes.
Warnings: Swearing and gen z humour
Wordcount: 2k
✨Masterlist✨
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“Team, this is (Y/N) (L/N). She will be interning for the upcoming three months alongside this team. (Y/N), these are Agents Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid and our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia”, Hotch introduces a teenage girl to his team like this happens every day.
“Wait Hotch, we don’t get interns. What is she going to do, no offense, but getting us coffee or what?” Morgan eyes her suspiciously. She looks like any teenager grabbed from the street. A band t-shirt, a torn pair of jeans and a cup from starbucks in her hands. Nothing you would expect to even enter a federal building.
“No offence taken, Agent Morgan. I know having an ugly pickly bitch working with professionals seems weird. It’s just I have summer break and I thought it would be a good thing on my resumé if I already interned in the FBI, because I just graduated and I wanted to go to the academy this fall. But if you wanna do a vibe check with me first, that’s fine by me. Whatever floats your boat.”
The room falls silent. Then out of all sudden everyone turns to Garcia, who puts her arms up in defense. “I don’t even know half the things she said, ask her yourself.”
That’s how the BAU gets their first contact with Gen Z culture and let me tell you it is a wild ride, so buckle up your seats, drink your tea up because we aren’t going to make any stops.
“(Y/N), I need you to come with me. We are going to the M.E. getting the latest reports from our last case”, Morgan tells her while passing her desk. In the blink of an eye the teenager is ready, putting her denim jacket with various pins and bits of patches on.
“Derek, can we get starbucks on the way back? The pumpkin spiced latte is back on their menu and I am on withdrawal. Pleaaaaaasseeee”, she looks at him with a pouty face. Morgan smiles. “Ok, under one condition: We both get one, take awesome pictures and send them to the group chat and then we act like we didn’t get them anything, but we actually buy them their usual.” He got the hang of it pretty fast. “Deal, Sis.”
While they are in the car on their way to the M.E. the agent groans. “Ugh, road work ahead.” “Uh yeah, I sure hope it does!” Morgan eyes her from the side. His whole demeanor says ‘old and confused’.
“What was that, kid?” But (Y/N) begins to laugh. “Don’t you know vines? Short dumb and funny clips people made?” It’s safe to say that this afternoon he learns to speak in vines, getting on Rossi’s nerves because nothing makes sense anymore.
“Ok, I heard you wanted to become a profiler. So I thought I would show you some old cases and then you try to figure out the profile. I’ll present them to you like I do to the team, alright?” JJ and (Y/N) sit in her office, safe from curious eyes. “As right as the law, Ma’am.” 
“Good, this is a case from several years ago. It happened here in D.C. Three men were murdered execution style in the middle of the night in an alleyway. They were all from different backgrounds. The only connection between them was that they were evicted for some form of sexual harassment or assault. The UnSub also had a signature: A shot into their groin while the men were alive.”
Unfaced by the presented facts (Y/N) pops a piece of gum into her mouth. “It do be like that.”
“What?” “I mean, it’s obviously a woman. She experienced any harassment or assault herself. She also has excess to the files, I assume she works as a paralegal, since most of them are women. Female serial killers are extremely rare, but they are better organized. The only thing left to say is good for her getting revenge.” The blonde looks at the teenager with wide eyes.
“I-I guess but you know you can’t say anything like that to Hotch, do you?” She asks concerned. “JJ, I’m dead inside, not dumb. I know this.” But the agent shrugs. “Good. Though I really want to see his face.” “Mood.”
Penelope Garcia is the closest one to relate to Gen Z culture, since a great part of her time is spent on the internet. She happily learns about all the phrases and their meanings as well as the newest trends and hypes.
“Purp is sus, I tell you”, is heard from the lair into the hallway. Spencer and Derek look at each other with concern on their faces. “Do you think they are alright or do we have to-” “IT’S A SELF REPORT I SWEAR PENNY! YOU WORK WITH PROFILERS IN GANDALF’S NAME!” Spencer’s question is answered by that.
“Baby girl, crazy girl, are you doing good? Do you need help or something?” The older one asks warily. But it’s drowned in another screaming match. “I TOLD YOU PURP WAS THE IMPOSTER BUT YOU HAVE TO TELL THEM I VENTED WHEN I DIDN’T! I WANT ALL TIKTOKS I SENT YOU BACK!” “YOU DON’T DARE TO REVOKE MY TIKTOK PRIVILEGES!” “WATCH ME GARCIA!”
“Whoa girls, what about taking a break?” Morgan tries to diffuse the situation. “Yes, I think JJ got new pictures of Henry and Emily brought cookies this morning”, Spencer adds.
The girls, who mere seconds ago were ready to jump each other's throats, look at the other one. “You get the cookies and I go to JJ, deal?” (Y/N) asks. “Deal!” Without sparing the boys another glance they run out of the lair. Their devices are still lit up. A red figure shines into their faces. ‘AMONG US’ is written underneath it. “I think we get too old for this stuff, don’t we Reid?”
Spencer always thought he was young. Of course, his mind is older, but physically he is not that old. But the intern proves him wrong. And boy is he wrong.
“Spencer, is there anything interesting to know today?” (Y/N) takes a seat on his desk, distracting the genius from his paperwork. It is a common occurrence for her to go to him to ask for a fun fact.
“Do you wanna learn something about sloths?” His knowledge (or the writer’s) on this subject is astonishingly big.
“Spill the tea, sis.” “Did you kn- What? But I don’t have tea to spill. And I don’t wanna spill anything, I-” Reid rambles in confusion.
“It’s just a saying, Spencer. There is no deeper meaning to it then ‘Tell me everything about it’. You know, it’s mostly used for gossiping, but I don’t really like to gossip. That’s why I use it in a different context. You got it?” (Y/N) explains it to him in a soft manner, knowing her generation can be complex.
“Yeah, I think I do. Thank you for telling me. I really like the phrase. It has a nice ring. What about you spill the tea about all the phrases you know and I tell you some things from my knowledge?” “I think you got yourself a teacher, genius. But now tell me about the sloths, I love them.”
A few days later Rossi catches her doing some weird moves. “Are you having a seizure or what is your problem, youngster?” Even though he tries not to show it, David took a great liking to (Y/N), thinking of her like a granddaughter. Still, most of her actions confuse the hell out of him.
“I’m practising a dance for tiktok. My friends and I worked on a choreo we wanted to film later. Come here, I can show you.” And that’s what she does in the conference room. The teenager walks him through every move of the choreo, explaining the meaning to it and how it correlates with the song.
“And then you move your arm like that. Exactly like that! You did a great job, David! Are you sure you don’t want to come with me later? We can make you your own account and name it ‘Grandpa-on-tiktok’. You can promote your books over there and it’s a way to float with the trend!”
Seeing her this excited Rossi can’t do anything but agree to the idea. Also, he secretly liked doing the dance thing. It made him feel young again.
“(Y/N), you said you graduated this summer. But your file said you are 16?” Emily asks her one boring day filled with paperwork and countless cups of coffee. “It is what it is”, she mindlessly answers, too focused on filling out the work in front of her.
“I mean yes but how?”
“Emily, smart people exist. I know, coming from me hits different, but here we are.” Finally (Y/N) puts her pen away looking at the raven haired woman.
“What are you talking about? I can’t really follow you.” The more the intern says the more confused gets Emily.
She sighs. “I don’t want to leave you on read here. I kind of am smart somehow. Apparently I was smart enough to skip a grade or two. But it’s no biggie. Many peeps do this, so I don’t sweat it.”
“Even though I feel like you are selling yourself short here, I know you are an incredibly intelligent person. Someday you will be an awesome profiler and any team will be lucky to have you. I really hope we will be the lucky team. But I’m still not sure if this is what I should say in this context.”
“Emily, you are goals. This fam is squad goals. I really hope to be a part of this someday”, (Y/N) admits. “I’m sure Hotch will do his best to get you on the team, you became a great part of it. I can’t imagine a future without you.”
Sadly Prentiss has to get used to a time without the team’s beloved intern. On her last day (Y/N) knocks at Hotch’s door.
“Hey, I wanted to say thank you. The time with you and all the others was amazing and I learned so many useful things for not only the academy but also for my daily life. I really had a glow-up here”, she says after coming in.
Hotch motions towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat, (Y/N). I got something for you. See it as a compensation for not getting paid for your internship. You really did great work and a better job than some agents, who are doing theirs for many years already but don’t know half the stuff you do. You are a valuable member to the team.”
“Wait, you speak in presence tense. I leave you all this afternoon, you know that, do you?” But the Unit Chief only gestures to a white envelope on his desk. Quickly the teenager takes it and reads it.
“Are you serious Hotchner? Because I will cry you a river if you joke”, she threatens him.
“I’m dead serious, (Y/N). Even though half of your talks are difficult to understand, the other half is twice as useful and important. Additionally to that, you are like a fresh breath of air that the team needed. That’s why a place here will be available for you as soon as you graduate from the academy. I trust you that you will pass with flying colors, I had to promise that to Strauss.”
“Of course, Hotch. I swear on my Animal Crossing Island that I will do my best and more. Thank you so much”, she leaps into his arms.
The others watch the interaction from the bullpen, pretending to not get teary eyed. Their favorite Gen Z Kid will come back to them after all.
Taglist:
Spencer Reid
@calm-and-doctor
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nancydfan · 3 years
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I think that Mia gets too bad of a rap from a lot of people.
Like yes, was she an agent of a super shady organization responsible for making a bio weapon that destroyed a great deal of lives? Yes. However we don’t know her motivation for joining them yet.
They could have lied honestly. Like The Connections could have advertised themselves to be a great, loving work environment and maybe Mia was young and naive and joined them. Or maybe she was desperate for money, and it was the only job that would hire her. Or hell, maybe she fully knew what they were and joined anyway, either on account of her morals being twisted back then or thinking that even though the company was evil maybe she could do good. Who knows, honestly.
Either way, with The Connections being a shady organization there’s like a very high chance that you don’t get to walk away from them alive. I’m sure if you quit they’d see you as a liability and take you out with no mercy. And that’s why I think Mia didn’t leave, because she knew she would be killed if she did, and maybe that’s why she took the job with Eveline, because it was more of a “you will do this or else” than an option for her (whether it was implied by her boss or if they were upfront about what bad things would happen if she didn’t take the job).
And maybe if her morals were twisted before I fully think meeting and falling in love with Ethan changed her if that was the case, because the Mia we see in RE7 and RE8 is a good person. We see that in how when the Baker’s rescue her she thanks them but tries to leave immediately and tries to warn them about staying away from Eveline (as shown in the note she left in the dlc “Daughters”). She could have tried to get them to call the hospital or her company but she didn’t, because she knew that she was under Eveline’s control and the longer she stayed there the more danger the family was. If she was a shitty person she wouldn’t have done this, she would have done everything she could to save herself.
We also see that in how she leaves a final video note for Ethan, telling him to stay away no matter what, because she didn’t want him to get dragged down in her mess. She knows how much Ethan loves her and I’m sure she knows if she sent a video saying “Ethan pls help” he’d come running for her, but she didn’t because she loves him and wants him to live even if she can’t be there with him. We see it AGAIN when she saves Ethan from Eveline’s grasp, when she tears him from the mold thing he was in and pushes him out so Eveline couldn’t hurt him. Fully knowing she’d have to face Eveline’s wrath.
And for everyone saying “why didn’t she just tell him then” I mean think about it. I think if this super shady organization found out someone they didn’t hire knew what was going on they’d kill them because again they’d be a liability and a threat. And that’s why she doesn’t tell Ethan because she doesn’t want him to be targeted and killed by them. I think if she had the opportunity she would have left The Connections but knows that it would result in her death anyway, and telling Ethan the truth would just end in his death if they found out and it was too risky in her mind.
And I think it’s this same form of protection that prevents her from telling Ethan he’s infected. She says (or at least we can assume that this was her) in Donna’s section that she didn’t tell him because she was afraid she’d lose him. I don’t think he’d divorce her if he found out he was molded (that doesn’t really make sense for his character), I think she was genuinely afraid he’d die (again) or worse begin to transform into a monster the way the rest of the infected did. And that’s why she keeps it hidden because she was scared to death he’d die or suffer a worse fate. Am I saying she was right in hiding it? No, but I think that everyone saying she’s manipulative and gaslighting are wrong because she truly loves Ethan and Rose, and I know she’d give her life gladly if it meant they could live.
I saw other people get mad because Rose is essentially being used as a bio weapon and how could Mia let this happen and I’m like?? She probably doesn’t have a say?? I mean yes Blue Umbrella is supposed to be “the good guys” now but like they’re still a huge organization, I’m sure Mia did her best to prevent this from happening and keep Rose safe but like at the end of the day what can she really do against a huge company?? If anything get mad at Chris because I’m sure he’s got some clout or something in that company that could have allowed Rose to live a normal life without Umbrella or maybe not being used as a weapon but idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ a lot of people were like “Mia’s sO annoying at the beginning of the game” but fam that wasn’t even her?? That’s Miranda?? Besides even if it was Mia that blew up on Ethan in the hospital (as per Ethan’s diary) 1.) people deal with trauma differently, and I’m not saying it’s healthy but she’s scarred and doing her best and 2.) probably was afraid if they talked too much about Louisiana Ethan would realize he was infected and then BAM he’s either dead or a mutated monster. And in the cutscene of Mia saying “you matter!” Can you imagine the stress of knowing your husband is Mr Mold Man and not being able to do anything about it, out of fear of what could happen to him? Like of course she’s upset and going to blow when provoked (not that Ethan was aggressive or anything just that he was prying into a very high pressure soda that is Mia’s emotions lol) because she’s been bottling this up and has no one to talk to, and after a while anyone would explode. I think she would have told him if he hadn’t answered that call. Also marriage is not rainbows and butterflies, sometimes you get into messy fights with your partner and sometimes you or the other person say things you don’t mean but at the end of the day you love each other and try to be better. If anything Capcom was depicting a normal marriage tbh.
At the end of the day Mia is not the bad guy. She is only human who tried her best to keep her family safe against all the odds and idc what anyone says, Ethan and Mia love each other and have a healthy relationship and that’s that.
I hope I do this ask justice cause this is the kinda ask I’ve been like hoping for cause you are absolutely gosh damn right.
I’m a chill person & I’m never gonna probably get up into someone’s face about anything cause it’s fandom. I’m not here to cater your experience. That being said, when I see some of these frankly bad takes on Mia I’m like
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We know Jack shit about why Mia joined the Connections. Literally nothing so people who have a whole solidified nasty opinion of Mia should probably just sit down. You don’t have to like her. But you also could like, idk, be absolutely dead wrong cause lol Capcom went, yeah we’re not gonna explain any of that.
I got the impression that in between re7 and re8 that they are hiding from the connections too but I may have misunderstood that In re8. I think it makes sense it’s the type of organization you do not leave. No matter how badly you want to and once Ethan came along, do people really think she’d risk him? Spoiler alert: no, no she wouldn’t.
Also, re7 started w Alan. He’s the one that let eveline get out of control so...I feel like people forget that.
I’ve been talking to a friend about people using the Miranda Mia against the real Mia and I don’t know how to kindly tell people that the game kinda absolutely explained that’s not Mia? I do think Mias got a temper which makes sense because Ethan is so even tempered that he can balance her out better. But Miranda Mia was a fuckin bitch. She was needling Ethan’s pain and mocking him. Do people think Ethan sat around for three years taking that? Ethan’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. He was even fighting back w Miranda Mia so manipulative and abusive takes belong in the toilet w the rest of the shit.
Mia blowing up at Ethan means nothing. My parents have proven to me marriage is not easy. You will lose it on people when emotions run high. It happens. There’s a world of difference between a moment of anger versus abuse. But you still love and forgive people for moments of anger because we all have them. And I’m sure Ethan can be just as much as a pain in the ass. I love him more than most and I’d be the first person to admit I’m sure he didn’t make it easy all the time either.
Mia held the truth from Ethan because she was scared not just for her but for him too. It’s a selfless kind of lie. We all do them so I don’t know why Mia is getting burned at the stake for it. I’m just not movable on this. That was a heavy thing to carry and she was doing her best.
As for Rose, I don’t even know what Capcom is doing. How can anyone else know? She’s special and powerful. Maybe she wanted that life? I think we can reserve judgement until re9.
Like I said above, no one has to like Mia. Maybe you don’t vibe w her or maybe you still just don’t care for her. That’s cool. But my gosh don’t lie about the kind of person she is. If you can’t acknowledge her world and heart belongs to Ethan and Rose, I’m just not sure what to tell you.
Sorry for ranting on your ask nonnie 😆 I really appreciate that you sent this in! It needed said imo
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loquaciousquark · 3 years
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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E113 (Oct. 27, 2020)
Good evening and good night, lovely people of the world! We’re on the internet and ready to go. Tonight’s guests are Travis Willingham and Sam Riegel. This will be calm, controlled, and sane, I can feel it. Brian points out it’s been seven months since either of them were on Talks. Oof. (Sam asks if it’s been going the whole time without him. Bigger oof.) Travis keeps sneaking bites out of an acai bowl or something and tries to look sneaky about it, and I laugh every time because he’s just...so big. He’s such a big person.
(Brian is wearing a lobstrosity shirt. He and Travis talk about Dark Tower for a bit; then Sam tries to get into the conversation: “Is that the thing from It?” Brian: “Is what the thing from It?” Sam: “Is that lobster the clown from It? I’m not very literate. Is that a Langolier? Is that a Shawshank?”)
Announcements: none! Maybe they just forgot. We’ve been talking about Sam’s spooky skeleton decorations for like five minutes. Brian suggests taking them to Travis’s house. Travis: “That’s the fastest way to get to the smell of burning plastic.” Brian: “Speaking of your girlfriend...”
On Avantika: Fjord wouldn’t call it a relationship as much as a casual sexual interaction. Not official! Super not official!!
The first sea voyage wasn’t great for Fjord, but he tried to be thoughtful about preparing for this one before they left: praying, kneeling at the bow of the ship, etc. He’s a little disappointed the Wildmother didn’t even throw him a “yo, fam” heads up.
They weren’t sure how to resolve the conflict at first, since Avantika went for Fjord rather than the crystal. No one expected it to get exposed in that way. Travis thought the necklace was a pocket dimension and was alarmed to learn it wasn’t. Travis wants it destroyed along with the third gateway, so until they are he won’t rest easy.
Everyone enjoyed watching them all fail on the battlefield again. (Sam: “You used [Counterspell] so effectively!”) Travis thought he’d said Thunder Step, which would imply Avantika was running, rather than Thunder Wave. Sam says it’s fine since none of them have that spell and he wouldn’t know it anyway.
It’s very difficult for Veth to find reasons to stay with the M9. She loves the adventures and making a difference, but she also wants to come home and have weekends and have a husband and life. “She’s a career girl!” He’s very excited about the possibilities of Caleb’s transportation effectively creating an easy commute for her. He also, as a player, doesn’t want to be the person who’s always leaving the party. “My characters wanna roam!”
Travis was fully tilted that Avantika might have gotten away right before the break. He doesn’t think he could have focused on Vess DeRogna’s task knowing Avantika had gotten away; he was seriously working out how Fjord would leave the party to go make a last stand at the third gate if she’d escaped.
Sam looooves how Matt plays Yeza, but it honestly makes him feel a little worse at how encouraging he is for Veth to chase her dreams. “He’s always like - go shine! Go blossom!” He wants to have the conversation about Yeza feeling a little ignored. It’s fun to share the tales of adventures with Luc & Yeza. 
Travis says there’s no way it’s Molly--it’s all Lucien. They don’t know if it was a resurrection, if he’s undead, possessed, etc. Everyone--everyone--rags on Taliesin’s accent work. Brian surreptitiously claims Ashly was brought on to relieve him of the burden of the accent. Poor Ashly, ha!
Initially, Travis landed on the Oath of the Ancients, but it had more nature & pacifism in it than he felt fit Fjord very well. Many of them also had a focus on good & lawfulness, which also didn’t feel quite right; he also wasn’t that vengeful for some of the others. He & Matt got together and discussed options. Matt asked what Travis liked about Fjord; Fjord’s love for the ocean was a huge part of it, since Travis himself also loves the ocean & scuba diving, and so Matt created a custom oath for him. Travis does not plan to post its details, but he thinks Matt will at some point.
Cosplay of the Week! a lovely Scanlan by Air Bubbles Cosplay! Sam tells us the “canon” Scanlan cosplay was actually borrowed hodgepodge, and the boots were falling off all day.
It was really cool to see how Yeza & Luc have made a home in Nicodranas. Felderwin was okay, but kind of your basic D&D fishing village, and she likes the Nicodranas is much better. She’s confident & comfortable knowing her family is safe and sound.
Why is Fjord so interested in finding Sabian? To him, post-orphanage, his time with Vandren was the best of his life & the most love he’d ever received, because he mattered & had worth. It was taken by someone he’d known basically his whole life, so Fjord is not going to let that go. “That fuckin’ bill needs to be paid, my friend.”
Sam acknowledges that he should NOT have looked at his phone in re: the Vilya reveal, but it was pretty surprising! He can’t believe none of them recognized it! Travis points out the M9 had never met, heard of, or known anything about Vilya, so it’s not that surprising. Brian points out Matt has also done a really good job keeping the two campaigns separate, so any references were tasteful. Sam marvels that it was so well done: it was tasteful, had emotional and story impact... “That Matt. He’s getting better!”
Liam texted Sam back something like “oh SHIT.”
Knowing Veth had a chance to help someone else return to her child made Veth feel almost karmically forgiven for being away from her kid, but it also made Veth a little guilty--”this lady wants to desperately return home, shouldn’t I want to go home too?” Caleb’s teleportation spell couldn’t have come a better time.
Sam wants Caleb & Astrid to get back together (well, he says “hump each other”), and Dani’s eyebrows climb off her forehead. Veth/Nott really thinks Caleb needs to have a roll in ze hay, and feels like after meeting her that there is a kindness or vulnerability to her that could be worthwhile. Travis thinks she feels like someone tethered, that it feels like she has a bomb or something in her chest that’ll explode if she tries to leave. Sam thinks Eadwulf is super cool. None of these names are spelled like I think.
Travis found the dinner super frustrating, because he felt Caleb was trying to walk a diplomatic line and he just wanted to backhand Trent. 
Fjord is still coming to terms with his feelings for Jester, and the feelings are definitely real, but there’s a lot of timing that he’s considering and he also wants to figure out what the relationship is like outside of constant tension and battle. Fjord is also having trouble figuring out how to exercise the ability to display affection as well since he’s never received them, and is feeling out how to give and receive them. “It’s fine now, because he’s feeling it, but once you say it out loud, or once you come to a point where you make it known to the other side, then what happens? It might be ruined. It might be broken. Or it might not be!” The moment with the porcelain unicorn was too good not to try. Travis also sighs that he’s not a romance D&D guy, “but now I am! Fuckin’ Laura Bailey!” He’s definitely feeling it out and will see how it unfolds in the game.
If Jester hadn’t let go of the Traveler, Fjord would have either attacked the Traveler or the Moonweaver and tried to kick them both off.
Sam doesn’t think the Traveler’s realized yet what a dick he is. Brian thinks it may not happen in this campaign, but agrees the full weight of what he deserves hasn’t been felt yet. Travis: “Yeah, he came to the edge, but it didn’t cost him anything.” Brian: “Yeah, he’s a real edgelord.”
Fanart of the Week! a beautiful portrait of Molly in the snow by @claygryphon on twitter.
Veth acknowledges that they work for shady people with shady pasts, so Vess DeRogna isn’t her first rodeo, but this time it’s personal. It’s Jaws 2: Electric Boogaloo. Sam can’t commit to actual actions, since Vess is like level 20 or something, but “I will get some kinda revenge. Be it petty or significant, I will get revenge.”
How are they feeling about being in Eiselcross? They’ve only just landed, so not sure yet. The cold is intimidating. They’re excited to explore a new island that’s part of Wildemount, especially with the river of lava running through it. “It’s icy with lava? Sounds like a Dairy Queen.”
There’s still a ton of unknowns regarding the Tombtakers, Vess, the nature of their job, and who’s here on whose orders. They’re excited to see how it’s all going to play out. Travis laughs that he doesn’t take notes, he’s just here to fight things. It just washes over him when Matt starts talking about names and places. “It’ll reveal itself in time. [...] I don’t write those notes down. I don’t even know how to spell it off the bat.” I have never identified more with Travis. Sam actually does pay attention and take notes and was really impressed by Marisha’s dive.
Veth became interested in branding her own spellcraft as soon as she saw Caleb doing it. “That’s what the influencer agents are gonna be looking at. It would be nice to leave the world better than we found it, but also with some branded spells.”
What were Fjord’s thoughts on dropping so much money on the ring & the Ioun stone? It wasn’t about money for Fjord, it was about a cool thing to acquire. It’s why he saves money in his campaign. Caleb needs “as much of a flak jacket as he can get.” He also REJECTS the idea of buyer’s remorse on the ring and touts the effectiveness it’ll have on the lava river.
Travis talks about his old coins - a 340AD coin he bought at a ren faire and a 120BC coin that was a gift from a friend.
Sam marvels at the love and thought that Caleb put into the tower. Sam points out they forgot to go to the top two floors altogether. Travis: “Did the mansion get as much careful planning from Scanlan as the tower did from Caleb?” Sam: Absolutely not. But they were still thinking small in C1, figuring out how things went, and they didn’t have as much detail in their heads yet.
And that’s all the time we have for tonight! We end on everyone whispering way too close into their mics and tapping fingernails on mason jars. A fitting end to this crazy episode, I think.
Is it Thursday yet?
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17, 19, 33?
17. What is your favourite sibling/family headcanon?
Tumblebrutus is Asparagus' baby, and that's just how it is, fam. If Asparagus were one for sentimentalities, he'd call him little duck. I would insert those gifs I made of Tumble clinging to his back in Madrid, but I can't find my originals and tumblr doesn't let me save and use gifs anymore, for shame. So imagine they're here.
(And I'm biased, but I am also very partial to Jelly and Asparagus being brother and sister. Not only because I like it a lot, but also I just like the diversification of the relationships between the older cats beyond het mated. Different types of relationships don't just stop beyond a certain age).
19. If there was one commonly accepted fandom headcanon you could get rid of forever, what would it be?
*exhale* Okay, um, there are probably several so I have to solidly think about the others, but Grizabella being an abusive or neglectful mother would be one of those (Can I see her maybe leaving her children prematurely because maybe she never wanted to be a mom in the first place? Yes. But being like...actively and consistently abusive? No absolutely not.) I also don't usually subscribe to the idea that Grizabella is anyone's mother period, unless swayed in a particular way (like I've seen one or two ways that I actually liked).
I also would like to have a word with whoever put forward the words "slinky bastard" in association with Alonzo because I really...*really* hate that. Even for London Alonzos...it does the "boil you down to one or two shallow characteristics consistently and that is the only thing we'll talk about" thing, and I'm not about that. I am a woman of general peace and civility, but, honestly, I am about at the point of throwing hands.
33. Do you have any non-replica ideas?
I would like a semi-Kilworth (i.e. not quite full animal not quite human either) inspired non-replica that takes place during Prohibition in the United States (1920 - 1933); specifically New York because I can. The setting is a speakeasy, and it's heavily implied that maybe some of the attendees know one another from before, but most of them are completely anonymous to one another. They introduce one another as the evening goes on as the joint becomes looser. The "cats" (which if prohibition would have happened just a *little* later that would have been an *excellent jazz pun* but that term didn’t come into fashion until a bit later) are from all walks of life, all sorts of different countries, wearing period appropriate clothing, reflecting the general populous of NYC at the time. And that's why their names still stick out as unique; they're nicknames to keep themselves as obscured as possible in case things go under.
"Macavity" is synonymous for a federal Prohibition agent, and the cats are under fear of a raid rather than a single figure (But the rumour is that there is a particular cop/agent who's crooked anyway - but he'll lean whichever way pays off better. He's been bought off by them and even been a patron of the bar before)
I would also love a very lavish fantasy Masqurade non-replica that is not Brno - where the performers start off in these drab and muted outfits that transform into these beautiful pieces when they put on their elaborate cat masks, with the work of some theatrical magic quick changes (which is *ripe* for wardrobe malfunction but imagine the *fun*)
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Missing peace's
Hi there 
February is now upon us and I have come from the ashes of last year like a phoenix and one word in on my lips.
DUCKS!!!! 
anyway, I have rewatching s3 (again) and I would like to gather the things that the duck fam and FOWL have gathered (so far) and see what might be done with them. 
List of things so far...
1) the harp of mervana 
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what is it?: a herp (duh) 
what does it do?:  It tells the truth. The harp answers any question truthy but it also seems to be able to answer the truth about outcomes.
for example when Louie say’s they need to jump as “its the only way” the herp answers “correct”   
and later with the mervanains trying to build the harp says the thing is going to fall and it does. 
Note that the herp is not asked directly about these things. 
2) Gene the Genie 
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what is he?: a Genie (again duh) 
What does he do: grants wishes, BUT he only able to grant them in a way he understands them, like Donald wants “normal family problems” so Gene puts them in a sitcom (situational comedy), he does not change the family he changed the world around them, as 90′s sitcoms is how Gene translates  “normal family problems” so any wish made will have his flare to it.
3) The Third Eye Diamond
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(this was modified to do the opposite to its OG intent, However it did work as planned on LP.)
What is it?: a magic gem/ a gun
What does it do?: it enhances someone's intelligences and abilities, It makes them the “best” version of themselves. It also seems to give them insights they may not have had otherwise (LP’s realisation that he wants to be ‘good enough’ LP tends to not have these reflect moments all that often...not on propose anyway) So the third eye also gives you wisdom into yourself and what is happening around you (as Lp found out about FOWL).  
(it also gives people British accents)    
4) The Fountain of Youth  
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What is it? : a fountain/ pool 
What does it do?: it seals the youth of one person and the can give it to another. 
not much else to say about this one. 
5) The Solego Circuit
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What is it?: a Key 
What does it do?: it opens gateways to other dimensions (unstable ones atm), It can bring things in from other dimensions (objects and people) but it can also make someone be part of another dimension (scrooge jumping on the table) and not think anything is off. 
Dr Waddlemier (Gos’s Grandpa) is the only one (other them MAYBE Bulba) who can figure it out.
6) The Split Sword of Swanstantine
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What is it?: a sword
What does it do?: channels inner strength of the user 
(FOWL didn’t care about it so I won’t either, they wanted a feather (dna) from one of the ducks, The only other point I will make on this is that the only people to have had physical contact with FOWL agenesis in this ep was Huey and Scrooge, so the feather is most likely one of theirs)  
7) The Papyrus of Binding 
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What is it? a papyrus/ parchment 
what does it do? It grants the statement written on it. It is dangerously literal and must be worded carefully.
at the moment it is lost and can only be found by an heir of Mcduck   
8) the Blessed Bagpipes of Clan Mcduck
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What is it? Bagpipes 
what does it do? It brings life into things that don’t have life (eg. sculptures) that is done by playing it.
Ok now that the list is done lets see what we got...
most of these are magical items expect maybe the Solego Circuit, but it seemed to of had a magical origin at least. 
they are for:
the truth, wishes (limited by gene), intelligences and wisdom, Youth / youth stealing, interdimensional travel/ collection, reality warping and life giving.
 So why these Items? why these powers? and how does it tie into what Fenton and Gandra dee have made? 
I am just going to guess what the items will be used for 
The herp- integrations, asking if something will work (like say on the papyrus), making sure things are running smoothly
The 3d eye Dimond- boosting the intelligence of Fowl agents, attach it to the  Solego Circuit, to make it better, 
Gene the Genie- to be used as a redo button if somethings does go wrong (like how Donald undid his last wish), to get the Papyrus (wishing the heir to find it, making something lose its magic (idk tho)
The fountain of Youth- to take the youth of their enemies and give to it themselves, to make the artefacts young or old (does it work on objects?) 
Solego Circuit- to bring things and people from other dimensions, like an heir of Mcduck?  bring in objects in like other artefacts or agents 
The Papyrus of Binding- to change their reality to be under Fowls control, to get rid of scrooge, to make sure that anyone how tries to stop them fail.     
the Blessed Bagpipes of Clan Mcduck- to trap people in their homes, to have eyes and ears on every single corner of the world, to bring someone back to life (can it revive people?) 
but honestly IDK I just wanted to lay down were we are all at.   
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wkemeup · 4 years
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By Any Other Name (5)
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series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.4k warnings: thoughts of smut (we’re  l o n g i n g  here fam), physical violence, bucky actually does some undercover work, that good ol’ cleaning-your-wounds trope  🌹series masterlist 🌹
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You were in trouble.
Wrinkles up by blue-grey eyes and that slight little curve over pink lips every time you walked in the room, a nod in acknowledgement that carried like a secret amongst a crowd of a men.
With his position in the corner of the room and your husband front and center addressing a battalion, the burn of a gentle, watchful gaze followed you as you passed by to the kitchen. James Karpov was surely going to be the death of you.
There was nothing more than innocent conversations between you; late nights in your library just reading together and walking around Brooklyn accompanying you on mindless errands. It was harmless on the surface, something you could easily disregard as a convenient acquaintance filling a void of a companionship you’d lost years ago.
But you weren’t foolish enough for that. You could recognize the twist of nerves in your stomach when he met your eye, when he showed up in your library late at night carrying the latest book you’d lent to him that week, and when he waved over to you and Peter as you made your way to the bridge on Sunday afternoons.
Perhaps, if your time with James was as innocent as you wanted to believe, you wouldn’t be putting in so much effort into hiding it from your husband.
James seemed to know better, at least. He was cautious with you and you could sense the sliver of hesitation when he came too close to crossing a line he couldn’t come back from, the halted breath he stifled, before he ultimately backed away. 
There would be a slight flinch in his hand when his stride fell too close to yours and your knuckles would graze against one another in your pace. He’d clear his throat, eyes darting down to the floor and blush in his cheeks when you’d stare at one another for too long, words trailing off to silence because sometimes just sitting with him in the quiet was enough.
He had nervous ticks, you’d come to realize; ones that surprised you for a man of his position in Hydra. He liked to push his hair behind his ears, raking his fingers through the thick, brunette waves incessantly and shifting on his feet. He'd chuckled nervously, trying to laugh off something real as a joke, and it was nothing if not incredibly endearing. 
You began to long for the way he’d flop down onto the couch in your library with you in the late hours of the evening, long after Brock had gone to sleep, in the quiet, stolen moments when you could smell the faint scent of his body wash and his thigh would brush yours. The fact that he made no effort to move away didn’t pass your notice. 
You cherished every stolen smile from across the room, the secret knowing glances that conveyed a world of meaning, of having shared moments together and inside jokes and something that was entirely your own, something that reminded you of the way things had been before Hydra, before your husband.
James reminded you of who you could have been without Brock, who you were, who you still could be.
It was dangerous -- you knew that -- to care for him in this way. 
You felt no loyalty to Brock, no love shared between you in years. Even in your youth when you’d loved him, you knew now that he never once felt even an ounce of what you had. Everything he did was calculating and political; including his relationship with you. Brock’s jealousy and possessiveness had nothing to do with affection and everything to do with his need to control and place you on display. To show his men that he’d won the trophy and to assert his power by putting a bullet through anyone who so much as looked at you.
It also served to keep you alone and isolated. He liked to keep you dependent, trapped. It was the only way you’d stay. It was your only choice.
You’d accepted that for a while. For nearly three years.
Until James.
It became harder and harder to fall into the role Brock had assigned for you, to let him parade you on his arm at fundraiser galas he’d funnel into Hydra’s pockets, to let him kiss you and touch you, to lay by his side at night and feel the cage of his arms around you like a mindless doll that could have been just about anyone as far as your husband was concerned.
He’d had his affairs, slept with models and women looking to increase their status within Hydra for a price. You hadn’t cared. You welcomed it. It kept him from his desires to take you to bed for a while, at least. He was always too rough, too eager and disregarding of whether your body was attuned to his or whether you were ready for him. You learned to tune it out after a while. He never lasted long, anyway.
It was the moments late at night, when you dared to wonder whether James would be gentle with you, that scared you the most.
You closed your eyes, curled as far away from Brock as you could manage, nearly hanging off the side of the bed, and let yourself dream about how James’ hands would feel running down your arms, over your back, along your spine. 
You wondered if his hands were calloused and rough from years of labored work or smooth and soft like Brock’s. You thought of the sweet way his lips curved into that half smile, how it lit up into the pale blue of his eyes and illuminated golden flecks hidden deep in his irises. You wondered how warm his breath might feel as it ghosted over your skin.
Caught up in the fantasy of stepping past the line drawn in the sand, you dreamed of touching his chest, of curling your fingers into the nape of his hair, of kissing at his cheekbones, his jawline, and nipping at his lips. 
Lush and pink and so incredibly soft.
But it was on the darkest of nights, as Brock slept soundly beside you, an arm thrown over your waist like an anchor sinking you to the depths of the ocean, that you dared to imagine how James might kiss at your neck, how his hand roaming over your side might dip just a little lower under fabric and seeking heat, if his fingers might slip between your legs and find solace there. 
You wondered how he would feel, what it would be like to be as close as two people can be, if the stretch would ache just enough. You wondered if he’d rock into you to prolong the high or if he’d take you rushed and rough. You wondered if he’d still kiss you after he came.
Dangerous thoughts.
***
“Hey Mr. Karpov!” Peter sprinted out ahead of you, chasing down to where James was leaning with his back against a lamp post near the water. He grinned as Peter ran up to him, pushing himself off the post and chuckling to himself.
“Hey kid,” James raised his hand and gave Peter a high five. He turned to you with a softer smile that nearly made your knees give out as he said, “hey Y/n.”
“Hey,” you replied as easily, chewing on your lip. It was getting hard to shove those dangerous thoughts beneath the surface when he looked at you as sweetly as he did.
“So, you going to sneak me into the Lernaean yet?” Peter asked for the seventh Sunday in a row. He was relentless and James had been nothing but charming in every instance he turned him down. 
You didn’t know how to express your gratitude because you knew just about every other Hydra member wouldn’t have batted an eye to sneak an underage kid into the club. They were easier targets to sell their product to. Young. Naïve. Looking to fit in.
But James wasn’t like the rest of them. 
“Try again next time, Pete,” James chuckled, shaking his head. Peter didn’t seem bothered by it at all as he shrugged dramatically. He turned to leave, as he usually did, but James clearly his throat, an apologetic look on his face and suddenly, your heart was sinking. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stick around today.”
“Oh,” was all you said. You winced at how disappointed you sounded.
He clenched his jaw, nodding. “I’ve got business for the boss out of town today.”
“What kind of business does a bouncer need to do?” Peter questioned, and thankfully, James was just as quick on his feet.  
“Checking out security for the club at a vender in Jersey. Don’t be so nosy, punk,” James replied without missing a beat. He ruffled Peter’s hair until he swatted James’ away, though it was amusing to watch. 
You didn’t know what business your husband assigned for him, but you knew what James did for a living, so you knew it was nothing good. It was impossible to merge the idea of James as Brock knew him to the James you did. You couldn’t imagine him doing the things Jack Rollins’ had been capable of when he was alive. You’d heard the stories, the chatter amongst the men in the living room, of how he’d beaten men to death and shot them down in the street on nothing but an order from your husband.
You couldn’t stand to think of James in that way. It was a dissonance, an irregularity, a mistake. It went against every instinct you had and you were usually better at reading people than this.
“So, what are you still doing here?” you asked awkwardly, swallowing back your disappointment. “If you’re supposed to be out of town, I mean.”
James turned to you, a slight sigh in his breath and he looked about as disappointed as you felt. “I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t just skipping town and blowing you off.”
Heat burned in your cheeks and you nodded, looking down at the ground. So many divots in the pavement and scuff marks from bicycles and skateboards in the sidewalk...
“That’s, uh, that’s very kind of you, James.”
He couldn’t just say those sorts of things to you and expect your heart not to swell a dozen sizes. You were certain if you looked up at him, you’d be met with ocean blue eyes that could see right into your soul and you weren’t quite sure you could handle that.
“Next time,” James started, pulling a phone from his pocket and handing it to Peter, who started typing it in without being told, “I’ll call and let you know. Alright?”
You raised an eyebrow as Peter handed the phone back to James. He typed into the screen, chewing on his lip as he deleted part of the message and retyped it again before hitting send. Then, your pocket buzzed and you pulled it out to find a message from an unknown number.
For next time – James.
And just like that, you were smiling so wide, you had to chew on the inside of your cheek just to reign it in a little. Peter was snickering to himself, surely enjoying your fluster and James, as sweet as he is, didn’t say a word.
“Smart thinking,” you said, holding up the phone in acknowledgement before you slipped it back into your pocket.
James shrugged, winking at you. “I should head out.” He turned to Peter. “Don’t give your cousin such a headache today, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” Peter grinned.
James gave you that soft smile, the subtle nod, and he turned to walk towards the subway.
But then your heart started to clench and suddenly, you found yourself chasing up to him. He was surprised to find you on his heels and froze on the sidewalk, glancing around you thinking there might be some sort of danger, but your hand gripped at his forearm, grabbing his attention back to you.
“Just be careful, will you?”
You swallowed nervously, voice impossibly small, and James’ entire demeanor shifted. A sense of relief followed by something you couldn’t quite place. A sadness, maybe?
He nodded, pushing out a smile that curved ever so slightly on his lips. “Of course. I’ve still got half the Harry Potter series to finish, don’t I?”
You laughed, feeling the tension quickly dissipate at the memory. He was surprised to find you had modern first editions too and you almost whacked him upside the head when he told you he’d never read the series before.
“See you tomorrow, Y/n.”
“Okay.”
You watched as he turned to head back down the street, the slight swagger in his steps, the weight of his walk, hands shoved into his pockets as he glanced down the street before crossing to the other side. You hardly noticed Peter come up beside you.
“I like that guy,” he said simply, as if you didn’t already know how much Peter had come to idolize James. The thought alone would have terrified you a few months back, before you really knew him and he was just the enforcer to the organization you loathed, but now, it only made you smile.
“Yeah,” you sighed, turning to Peter and nodding for him to follow you to the lunch spot you were going to offer to bring James, “me, too.”
***
This was the last place Bucky wanted to be.
Most of the time, when he was sent on these sorts of assignments undercover, he’d rather be sitting on the couch in Steve’s basement, watching football on the big screen and rooting against whatever team Sam was for. He’d rather have a cold beer in his hand and a sweatshirt over his shoulders and massive bowl of Peggy’s buffalo chicken dip, though he still didn’t know how a Brit perfected his favorite football snack.
But lately, since meeting you, he’d found himself picturing sitting on the end of your sofa under warm blankets long after the sun set, the smell of sweet herbal tea wafting from your mug on the coffee table, the crisp sound of pages turning – yours a little faster than his – and the way you’d glance up over the bridge of your book to check for his expression, wondering if he got to your favorite part yet.
Hell, he’d happily take strolling mindlessly through Brooklyn, following on your heels through your list of errands as watching you interact with the owners, that bright shining smile on your face. He’d rather be anywhere you were, he realized, and it made his blood run cold.
No – instead, he was walking up to an abandoned factory building in on the outskirts of D.C. with graphiti on the walls and the distinct smell of sulfur hanging in the air. Rumlow sent him to check on the progress of Cerberus, the drug they were trying to perfect, because it was still killing more users than it was addicting.
Fury had sent Bucky’s sample to the lab and they were still working on decoding its makeup. It was a nasty concoction of a whole lot of bad as far as he was concerned, and he didn’t much care what was in it as long as it could be used to put Rumlow and all his men behind bars.
Bucky shoved his shoulder into the door, the squeak of the old metal and rust echoing through the room. Inside, was a series of long tables and dozens of men and women working with masks over their faces and gloves on their hands as they handled the bright red powder. It was loud, the whirring sounds of the machines taking up much of the space and voices calling over one another.
Bucky slid his way down the aisle, carefully observing until he came upon a short, round man with glasses sitting on the brim of his nose.
“Ah, Mr. Karpov,” he greeted, thick German accent. “I’m glad to see you made it.”
“What do you want, Zola?” he grumbled. It was the second part of his assignment. Check the progress. Attend to whatever Zola was bothering the boss about; something about an out of line employee with sticky fingers.
“Straight to the point I see.” Zola pulled off his gloves and nodded for a woman standing behind him to take his place. He turned to Bucky. “Come with me.”
Bucky clenched his jaw, following him through the aisles of tables filled with stacks and bricks of Cerberus until they came upon a room in the vary back of the factory. It was locked and Zola took nearly a full minute to punch in the code.
When the door opened, Bucky was surprised to find a man strapped to a chair at the center of the room, hands bound by rope to the arm rests and mouth covered with tape. His eyes widened upon seeing Bucky, fear jolting through him, and the muffled screaming started.
“Hush now,” Zola warned, the condescending shit that he was. He gestured to the man. “This is Benny Ripley. We discovered that he’s been skimming our product in the lower east side. Four dime bags in the last week! Isn’t that right?”
Benny was talking, shouting maybe, against the tape but Bucky couldn’t understand a word of it.
“He must be an example to the rest of our dealers, James,” Zola said and Benny’s eyes went wide, his head shaking back and forth. “We can't allow them to believe we are the forgiving type. Do you understand?”
This man talked to him like he was all muscle and no brain. It took nearly everything in him not to wrap his hands around the tiny little man and shove him to the wall himself.
But instead, he muttered, “of course, sir.”
“Good.” Zola wiped off his hands. Benny was still talking, voice still muffled, and Zola rolled his eyes, darting a hand to the side of the man’s face and bluntly ripping away the tape, leaving a bright red mark in its place.
Benny didn’t even take time to wince or cry or stretch out his jaw before he was begging.
“Please man, don’t do this.” His voice was cracking as he stared at Bucky. “I’ve-- I’ve got kids! They had me test the stuff a few months back and now I’m-- I’m-- fuck. The shits expensive, okay! I didn’t-- I didn’t know what else to do. Please, just let me go, man. I’ll-- I’ll do anything.”
Bucky hated this part of the job.
It was one thing when it was a low life sonuvabitch but this guy? Shit. He was one of the ones that got roped into this life without much of a choice and judging by the look in his eye and the flash of his stare down to the gun strapped on Bucky’s hip, he was scared.
Bucky hated it when they were scared.
It wasn’t the first time he’d dirtied his hands for Hydra and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. It certainly didn’t help his conscious in the meantime.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Zola grinned.
Fucking bastard.
No one ever specified what it was he was required to do. It was his best workaround. He’d rough the guy up a bit and send him on his way. Bruises healed. Bullets were a little more complicated.
“Come on man,” Benny begged again, trying to wiggle his way out of the chair.
Bucky wanted to tell him to just stop talking, to stay still and take it and it would be over soon. He’d be careful with his hits. He knew how to punch just hard enough to cause bruising but to avoid cracking bones. It’ll look like a mess, but he’ll heal.
He wanted to tell him to stop looking at him like he was a fucking killer, but he knew his cover, and James Karpov wouldn’t have given a second thought to beating the guy to death.
So, he ignored Benny’s pleas and threw the first punch to the side of his face. He stepped back, shaking out his hand, and the poor guy kept begging. He only stopped after the fourth hit, when blood was spewing from his mouth and his skin was beet red. Bucky kept going until his knuckles were raw and broken and Benny’s head hung forward in the chair. He’d lost consciousness.
Bucky had been hoping it would happen sooner, but the guy was a fighter. He toughed it out longer than he should have.
With a heavy groan, Bucky untied Benny’s arms and hulled his body up over his shoulder. He kicked open the door to the office with a thunderous boom and the entire factory went silent. He marched down to the center of the crown, ignoring the hushed whispers of the workers and the prideful smirk on Zola’s face as he dropped Benny down to the ground.
“Steal from our shit, this is what happens!” Bucky called out, pointing down to Benny. He was unmoving on the ground, blood dripping from his mouth onto the concrete. Gasps filled the otherwise completely silent room. “I won’t be as kind with the next one!”
His words echoed up through the rafters and Bucky desperately wished he was in your library with you, listening to your soft humming and you picked out the next book on your list for him, instead of being on the receiving end of so many terrified stares.
“Get back to work!” he shouted, waving his arm and everyone turned back to their tables instantly, the machines kicking back into gear, though no one was talking.
“Good job Mr. Karpov,” Zola said, nudging Benny’s arm with the toe of his shoe and giggling when it fell limply back to the ground.
“You need anything else?” Bucky grumbled.
Zola shook his head, still grinning down at Benny’s unconscious frame. “No, no. This is quite enough.”
Thank god.
***
“This is why I keep you around, Karpov,” Rumlow smirked, pouring two glasses of scotch from the crystalline container on the bar cart. He passed a glass to Bucky, despite his reluctance to accept, and leaned back against the desk. “I heard you scared the shit out of that place.”
Bucky nodded, taking a sip of the amber liquid because simply being in a room alone with Rumlow was reason enough to drink. It burned in his throat and down his chest.
“Had to make an example.”
“Personally, I would have just killed him.” Rumlow shrugged, throwing back nearly half his glass in a single gulp. He smacked his lips, sighing at the taste or the feeling or the bloodlust – Bucky didn’t know. Rumlow raised a finger to him, extending from the hand gripped around the glass. “I admire your creativity.”
“Figured it would have more impact to see the guy walking around for the next two months with all that shit on his face than seeing a body for a few hours,” Bucky said, detesting the words as they came out.
“Genius!” Rumlow laughed, finishing the rest of his glass. Buck had hardly made a dent. “Knew I liked you for a reason.”
Bucky pushed out the most of a smile he could manage. It was tight and barely in a thin line and it certainly didn’t reach his eyes, but Rumlow didn’t seem to care. He set the empty glass down on the desk and swung around the other side to grab his coat. Bucky raised a brow.
“You heading out, sir?” he asked. It was nearing on two in the morning.
Rumlow nodded. “Got a meeting downtown.”
The smirk that followed made Bucky sick to his stomach.
He knew exactly where Rumlow was heading; into the arms of a woman waiting for him in the suite of a hotel he often frequented. It wasn’t unusual for him, to so openly cheat on you and joke about it with his men as if infidelity was something to boast about.
Bucky hoped that while you were married to Rumlow, you didn’t love him, just as Natasha had suspected. He tried to tell himself that he only wished that to be true in hopes you wouldn’t be hurt by Rumlow’s actions, but he knew, deep down, it was because of his own feelings for you.
He couldn’t bear the thought of you loving a man like Rumlow.
Though, glancing down at his hands, broken and bloodied, raw and used, he wondered if he was really any better.
After Rumlow shrugged on his coat and disappeared out into the hall, Bucky took a moment to breathe. His hands were aching and he needed to get them disinfected if he didn’t want them to swell and ooze by morning. The slam of the front door rang through the hall and even from back in the office, Bucky could hear the Maserati roaring to life.
With a heavy sign, he made his way down into the kitchen to grab a damp towel and some antibiotic from the cabinet before settling down on the couch in the living room. He had some time before Rumlow returned anyway and he planned to be gone before the bastard came back.
He winced, hissing, as the cloth touched the open wounds. Red seeped into the light blue of the terrycloth and he gripped at his fists, clenching his jaw as tried to brush away the dried blood and dirt.  
“James?”
His breath caught in his throat.
The damn near sweetest voice he ever heard calling his name; the kind that made his stomach twist in knots, his heart flutter like he was sixteen years old again on the schoolyard, and despite the blood coating the broken knuckles of his fists and the splatter of red over his collar, his cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink.
Bucky glanced up to find you standing on the top steps of the staircase, dressed in an oversized t-shirt falling just to the mid of your thigh as you wrapped your robe tighter across your chest to hide from the cold. A shiver ran up your spine and you looked around the room nervously, checking for unwanted observers.
“He’s not home,” Bucky said quietly, knowing exactly who you were looking for. A relief flowed through the tension in your shoulders and you smiled softly at him.
You were stunning, Bucky thought to himself, even with your hair mangled from sleep and pillow creases in your cheeks, no makeup upon your face and toes curling under bare feet. He’d never seen a prettier sight.
Your eyes trailed down to his hands as he wrung them in his lap, dabbing the blood away with an old, fraying washcloth.
“Oh my god,” you gasped, rushing down the stairs to him. “What happened?”
Bucky realized then as you swung around the banister, that he was sitting upon a couch more expensive than his apartment and quickly jolted up away from the suede fabric.
“Sit down,” you ordered and he fell back on the couch without another word.
He chuckled a bit under his breath at your sternness, the clear worry lines in your forehead, and he struggle not to reach out and brush his thumb against them to ease the lines away.
The weight of the couch dipped ever so slightly as you sat next to him and your eyes fell back to his hands. He gritted his teeth, hating that you ever saw him like this, a reminder of who he was to your husband, who he was supposed to be.
You knew him as a criminal, a murderer, and yet you still managed to look at him like he was worth something in this world.
“I thought I told you to be careful,” you sighed, slowly tearing away your gaze from his hands to meet his eye. There was a guilt in your voice that broke his heart, like you were somehow responsible for your husband’s orders.
An overwhelming urge ached deep within his chest; an urge to tell you who he was, to tell you he could take you away from all this if you’d let him, but he bit his tongue.
“M’always careful,” Bucky said but you didn’t believe him. He glanced down to see the broken knuckles on his fists and the sting of the cloth burned twice as hard.
“I worry about you, James,” you said in a hushed whisper and it damn near broke him in two.  
He tore his eyes away from you, certain he’d break from his cover in an instant if you looked at him like that any longer, like you might envelope him into your arms if he would just come willingly. He’d lay his head on your chest and wrap his arms around your waist and maybe you’d stroke his back and run your fingers through his hair and he’d find an ounce of solace amongst all the violence and crime and pain he’d emerged himself in for the last few years.
You tilted your head, studying his expression. “Are you alright? James?”
It stung when you called him that, he realized. 
But he nodded slowly, watching silently as your hands ghosted over his and took the washcloth from his grasp. Wordlessly, you cradled his right hand, cold fingers against the heat his palm. 
Your hands were so small; delicate and tender. He found himself wondering, as he often did, of what those hands would feel like sweeping the side of his face, running over his cheekbones or circling on his thigh. He didn’t dare think of more. 
You dabbed the cloth against the open wounds on his knuckles and he hissed.
“Sorry,” you muttered, offering him a grimace.
“S’okay,” he replied sincerely despite the sting on his skin.
When you were finished cleaning away the blood and gently applied the antibiotic gel, you wrapped his hands in the spare gauze you’d found under the kitchen sink. The moment your hands left his, he felt a wave of cold, of emptiness, pass over him. You must have felt it too because you were having a hard time looking at him.
You swallowed, turning away from him and stared down at the floor. Your arms wrapped at your robe, tugging it tight over your chest. “What did he have you do this time?”
“It’s nothing you need to know about,” Bucky replied dimly, pushing out a smile for you but you saw right past it, you always did.
“That’s what Brock always says.”
That hurt. He didn’t want you to think he was anything like your husband but it was part of his cover. He had to be convincing, even to you.
“Just... be safe, will you?” you sighed, raking your fingers through your hair. “The things Brock asks of you... they can be so dangerous. I don’t know what I would... if something were to happen to you...”
“Come on, now,” he cooed, leaning forward enough to see your face despite the hair that fell in his way, “won’t be that easy to bring me down. Don’t you have any faith in me?”
The edges of your lips curved and Bucky couldn't help the grin on his face. You turned to him, smiling, and brushed at your eyes. His face softened, surprised by the redness there, and he wanted to ask if you were alright, wanted to know if he was the cause of those tears...
But then, headlights flooded into the living room, pulling both of you from the sanctuary of your aloneness.
Bucky stood quickly, facing the door, and you were already halfway to the stairs, well-conditioned in your response time by now.
Bucky glanced over his shoulder, watching as you started to ascend the stairs, but you were slow in your steps, reluctant. You met his eye over the edge of the banister and smiled softly, sadly. He hated that you were making your way to Rumlow’s bed, to lay under sheets you shared with a monster.
Bucky wondered sometimes if he was any better.
He tried not to think of the day you’d find out he was lying to you all this time because he was almost certain he’d lose you, whatever piece of you he did have, and it would kill him.
He mouthed ‘goodnight’ and you nodded, lingering just a moment longer before you disappeared up the steps. The soft, padding of your footsteps were barely noticeable amongst the hardwood floors but he listened intently before he heard the squeak of your bedroom door close.
The front door swung open with a loud bang and Rumlow stumbled inside, grumbling under his breath as he threw his coat onto the couch and kicked off his shoes. He was surprised to find Bucky standing in his living room. Bucky held up his hands, giving a slight shrug, and Rumlow nodded in understanding.
He closed the door behind him. “Damn broad didn’t even show. Had to take care of her gremlins.”
Bucky clenched his jaw, doing his best to keep a stern face.
“Don’t have kids, man,” Rumlow grunted as he made his way up the stairs. “Little life ruiners.”
Bucky nodded, not daring to even open his mouth because he wasn’t quite sure what would come out. He wondered if you could hear Rumlow coming up the steps from inside your room, if you were anxious or afraid or simply tired of it all.
But mostly, he wondered if you wished it was him.
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apples-r-rubbish · 4 years
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Institute (13th Doctor x Reader) Part 1
Summary: After a weird encounter on a victorian street the doctor is drawn to you a fellow time traveller AN: HI!! this is a 13 x fem! reader as I started this a while ago and it would’ve meant very heavy delays if I had altered it Word count: 1.6k Warnings: death mention 
(PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4) (PART 5) (PART 6) (PART 7)  (PART 8) MASTERLIST
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The doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, rubbing her hands together “C’mon gang, let’s get a shift on. Lots to see, lots to do.” She said taking the lead and walking ahead. The victorian streets were cobblestone, and covered in mud, “Doc, I thought the victorian era was supposed to be more, I don’t know? Glamorous.” Graham sighed
“Oi! This is real history, you can’t believe everything you see in movies. They’re more historically inaccurate than you’d think,” The doctor snapped jokingly
“Then why’s she wearing jeans?” Ryan asked, gesturing towards you. The entire group turned to look at you. 
“Another time traveller probably. I’m not the only one knocking about time and space. She’s definitely not a time agent because she would be dressed era appropriate, so I assume she’s just passing through,” She rambled. Whilst she talked about the intricacies of the time agency you approached them. 
“You do understand it is rude to talk about someone, and not include them, regardless, of how well you know someone, Doctor, Ryan, Graham, Yaz,” You interrupted
“Who are you? Sorry, time travel, you should know what it’s like, nothings ever in the right order. Especially with people,” A confused expression fixed on her face
“Oh, of course, that makes sense. It’s all coming together,” You said glaring at the vortex manipulator and sticking your hand out to her “My name’s (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”
“That’s a lovely name. A really lovely name,” The doctor said smiling widely, Ryan and Yaz chuckling at her.
“You’ll see me again,” You said kissing her on the cheek “That’ll make more sense eventually, I promise,”
“Do you happen to know an archeologist by any chance?”
“I think I know the one you’re referring to. We happen to be friends I’ll have you know,” You blinked staring off into the distance for a second “Well, if you haven't met me yet, I should get going,” You said tapping the travel device and slamming your hand down against it. You vanished.
“Well that definitely was one of the more confusing interactions we’ve had,” Yaz frowned. Electricity fizzed and you reappeared behind them, “Sorry, sorry,” You said making them jump “Doctor, when you see me next, give me this, it’ll make sense to her, maybe. Anyway, onwards,”  You handed her a heavy ring as you spoke, ”I’ve always wanted to die on a foreign planet.” And before she could respond, you vanished into thin air once again.
“How- How did she do that?” Graham asked “And what did she mean? Die on a foriegn planet,”
“Vortex manipulator, nasty way to time travel, bad for the kidneys,” She frowned “as for the death bit, I don’t know,”
It’d been 3 months since the doctor had met you. She had tried to search for you and found nothing. She’d bored the fam to death rambling about time and the way it worked and who you could be and things she’d done to try to track you down. Nothing seemed to work, at one point they’d tried to stage an intervention which did not help as it merely gave her a platform to theorise. Until one day they arrived on Earth. 
“Right gang, this is an abandoned building, middle of London. 3 hours to get some stuff done before we set off again,” the doctor said as she pushed the door open. The building outside the doors was definitely not abandoned. It looked like an office, floor to ceiling windows and a beautiful view of London outwards, a desk opposite them. 
“Are you sure you’re right? This looks awfully officey for an abandoned building,” Ryan commented with a frown. The room was large, there were a variety of chairs placed around the room, along with a few futuristic looking lights
“No, it’s definitely Earth the gravity feels right,” The doctor answered, she licked her finger and lifted it into the air, “It’s earth, middle of London, Wednesday and it’s 11:02am,” She said a smug smile framing her face, wiping her finger on Yaz despite her protests. A door opened, you stepped out looking younger than the version in the victorian street, dressed in a suit, the opposite to how you were in the street.
“Hello, you’re the doctor, and I presume these are your companions? Assistants? Friends? Whatever you call them now,” You said extending a hand out to the timelord
“Yes, I am and yes they’re friends,” She said taking it “So you’re (Y/N) (L/N) then? What is this place?”
“Yes I am. It’s my office, I’ll explain on the tour, follow me, this way,” You said taking the lead and exiting the room
“We can’t tell her about what we saw, it runs the risk of collapsing reality or potentially ruining a fixed point, which is very, very bad, specifically 4 suitcase fulls and a bus journey full of bad,” The doctor explained in a hushed whisper to the other three
“But what if we could save her? Stop her from believing she’ll die on another planet?” Yaz asked empathetic as always
“Look, we can’t, I’ve tried that before and it ends up worse, we can’t do that. We can’t choose who lives and who dies,” She said glaring at all of them before snapping back to her usual sunny disposition and following you out of the room, the others trailing behind
“We always knew you would visit us at one point, it was inevitable given what we deal with,” You stated
“What is this place? Is this some kind of database an information hub? Why didn’t it show up on TARDIS scanners?” She asked, her list of questions increasing
“No, we’re an institute. Future tech, didn’t want you interfering. We help people, or we try to. London’s best kept secret, used internationally, U.N.I.T. doesn’t even know we exist. It didn’t show up on scanners because we planned for you and we knew that, of we wanted to do our jobs properly we couldn’t have interferences be it human or otherwise, especially not from you,” You replied 
“What exactly are you the institute of?” Graham interrupted
“Formally, rehabilitation of former time travelers and people who come into contact with aliens. Informally, cleaning up after the Doctor. We’re The Bad Wolf Institute, formerly known as The Trenzalore institute, but Captain Harkness insisted we change it, after an old friend of yours, I believe” 
The doctor froze in her tracks “Sorry? The Bad Wolf institute?”
“Yes, Jack was very insistent, pitched it to Me and she seemed to like the concept. The meeting of human and alien so to speak,” 
“Did you just refer to yourself in the third person and first person?” Yaz mumbled
“No, Lady Me founded the institute and is formally the director of it, however, when she is away with one of your former friends or running trap street, I become acting director,” You explained opening a door and ushering them inside “She did claim she was trying to protect the world from you. She kept her word Doctor.” Inside the room was sectioned off areas of ground and a locked cabinet. “Vortex manipulators,” You answered the moment the doctor opened her mouth to ask “Called in a favour from Jack and Torchwood, he owed us after the 456 issue, but we took care of it. Use them to jump planets and time, smooth over any damage you’ve done, better us than the time agents, you know what they’re like.”
“Isn’t that a violation of time having them in the 21st century considering they were invented in the 51st century?”
“Yes, however, we’re erased from future narratives, we’re ghosts in the future, barely echos of echos,” 
The doctor stopped suddenly, “How can I trust you? Hm? How do I know you aren’t lying? You could be a trap, a trick,” 
“I can pull out a file on any former companion and read it to you.  Amy, Rory, Jack, Martha, Clara, Rose, Harry, Donna, Jamie, pick a name and we’ll find it,” Your tone was neutral, but your face wasn’t harsh. 
“Too general, anyone from U.N.I.T can do that, I need something more specific,”
“I was the rep assigned to Amelia and Rory Williams, the Ponds. Visited her, 1946, New York, made some connections for her. Hooked up with an adoption agency, her and Rory adopted a son. She also repeatedly referred to you as raggedy man, and told me you used to eat fishfingers and custard which is something we didn’t have on file. We didn’t add it, you’re allowed some secrets, old man, no matter how vile it sounds,” A smile gracing for face at the last words
“Sorry? You used to be a man?” Graham asked. You chuckled at that, the formal facade finally slipping.
“Yes? That’s what you take away from that Graham? I believe you, no one other than her calls me that.” The doctor nodded at you, pulling the weighted silver ring from one of her many coat pockets “Oh before I forget, someone told me to give you this. They said it was important.”
You examined the ring for a second, a small chuckle escaped you “This was my mother’s, it went missing not long after she died. Never found it, searched the whole house, nothing,” You explained, slipping it on to your finger. “Thank you, I presume it was me then. My future must be in safe hands.”
“How did you- How did you work that out?” Ryan asked 
“Time travel, it’s weird,”
“Want to come with us?” The doctor said unexpectedly
“Not especially. I have an institute to look after while Me runs Trap street, ask me again one day and I might just say yes,” You sighed a small wink directed towards her at the end of your sentence “Leave the TARDIS here as long as you’d like, no harm will come to it here.”
And that’s where it began.
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riversofmars · 3 years
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Hello Fam! Time for another update on this epic, we're heading for a big confrontation!! Thank you everyone so much for your lovely comments <3 Enjoy!
Chapter 10: Familiar Faces
Edinburgh, 2021
“He’s due to give an address right now, should finish soon.“ Jack explained as they walked up to the convention centre.
“Let’s hope it goes differently to the last one…“ Ryan winced at the memory of it. They had very nearly all been turned into braindead data storage.
“Martha and Gwen will be in the auditorium, Mickey and I will stay outside, we've got you backstage passes.“ He handed them lanyards with laminated passes. They would get them through some doors, though perhaps not all of them. “You approach him after the speech, push his buttons.“
“That should not be difficult.“ Graham said, which was a fair assumption. They had no way of knowing how he would respond to seeing them again but it wouldn’t be pleasant. They had been surprised to find he was even still giving speeches. His spin doctors had had a tough time explaining everything away as a media stunt but that was a while ago now, and VOR still held a ridiculous amount of power in the world.
“We got you covered.“ Jack reassured them. “Just stay in contact.“ He tapped his ear to remind them of the surveillance equipment they were wearing.
“He’s just wrapping up, better get in here.“ Gwen’s voice came over the radio and they nodded.
“Let’s do this.“ Graham agreed and Ryan answered Gwen:
“We’re on our way.“
“Good men!“ Jack grinned. “We will make Torchwood agents of you yet!“
——
Demon’s Run, 52nd Century
“Keep running scans.“ Vastra advised Dorium over the intercom as they made their way to the airlock one deck below the bridge. They had found a good spot underneath the asteroid, where they could access a seemingly empty section of the space station.
“They haven’t detected us yet, no life signs anywhere nearby.“ Dorium reported. He had remained back on the bridge and Yaz couldn’t be persuaded to stay behind this time around. There would be no need to operate a teleport so Vastra’s excuses didn’t work. She had given in eventually.
“Mr. Strax, if you please.“ Vastra nodded towards the airlock as the others kept back.
“With pleasure.“ Strax grinned and engaged his helmet. He stepped on the other side of the heavy door and the airlock closed. It was hard to make out what was happening through the small window in the door but they gathered around to watch their friend. Strax attached himself to a tether so he wouldn’t be dragged into space as the airlock opened into space on the other side. He leaned out and with two precise shots of his rifle he took out the force field generators that powered the shields in this section. There was a gap between the ship and the space station as there was no docking bay on the other side but they had no need for it. Not when Strax threw a small grenade across the distance to the metal hull of the space station. The explosion wasn’t particularly loud as it wasn’t about the force of it, but it was big enough to douse the area in powerful acid. Strax gave them a thumbs up, and Vastra and Jenny returned the gesture.
“He’s not been as happy as this in months.“ Jenny observed with a chuckle as they watched Strax wheel out an air corridor towards the hull breach on the other side.
“Very efficient.“ Yaz commented, impressed at the effectiveness of the plan. She could only assume that this was something Sontarans were very good at.
“I have no idea what we’re going to find when we get onto that space station.“ Vastra turned to Yaz, making sure she understood what she was letting herself in for. She would much rather she stayed behind but Yaz wasn’t having it.
“Hopefully we will find the Thirteen and work out what they’re up to and save the Professor. Easy, right?“ Yaz asked and checked the charge pack on the blaster Strax has supplied her with.
“Sounds about right.“ Jenny smiled and looked to her wife with a proud smile, Yaz had certainly found a firm place amongst them.
“Keep your guard up, don’t do anything stupid, we can’t take any risks with the professor’s consciousness at stake.“ Vastra implored them as she placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. The airlock opened, safe to cross, as Strax waited for them on the other side, rifle at the ready.
——
Edinburgh, 2021
“Sorry, we’re looking for Mr. Barton, he should have finished his address by now?“ Ryan stepped up to a porter, flashing his ID.
“Backstage area is through there.“ The young man gestured to a door at the far side of the room. “I’m not sure he’s keen on visitors though…“ He frowned.
“He’ll make an exception for us, old friends.“ Graham smiled and before the porter could protest, they marched to the door.
“We’re backstage.“ Ryan informed the others on the radio as they made their way through a long corridor, the hustle and bustle of the main area falling away.
“Here we go…“ Graham elbowed his grandson, spotting Barton up ahead. “Mr. Barton!“ He called out, and they picked up the pace before he could disappear into a dressing room.
“Oh no…“ Barton recognised them immediately.
“Long time no see. Sorry, didn’t catch the speech, fascinating I’m sure.“ Graham said a little out of breath as they came to a halt in front of him, baring his way.
“Who let you in here?“ Barton asked curtly, then called: “SECURITY!“
“Nah, we got backstage passes, mate, it’s all good.“ Ryan grinned holding up his lanyard. “Surprised they’re letting you out in public again after what happened last time.“
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.“ Barton tried to push past them but they wouldn’t let him.
“Sure you do.“ Graham said. “What have you been up to lately? 'Cause there’s some really weird stuff going on, people being experimented upon, people dying? Sound like someone you know?“
“SECURITY?“ Barton called again and this time two burly looking men came stalking down the corridor. “Get these men out of here.“ The VOR founder gestured to them.
“Sorry, actually, we’re Scotland Yard.“ Ryan announced and pulled his psychic paper from his pocket, flicking it at the security officers as he’d seen the Doctor do so often. “This is a homicide investigation.“
“You’re not Scotland Yard, you’re…“ Barton started to protest but Graham held his psychic paper out to him in turn.
“Check the paper, Mate.“ He grinned and the security officers kept their distance, unsure of what to do.
“Fine, I’ll be going then.“ Barton snapped. “Have my car brought around!“ He shouted to the security guards and started back in the direction he’d come from. His men hurried after him.
“He’s on his way out.“ Ryan tapped his ear to give the other’s the heads up. “We will have a look around his dressing room.“
“Well done, we got it from here.“ Jack’s voice came through the radio, and Ryan and Graham high-fived before walking into the dressing room.
——
Demon’s Run, 52nd Century
“This way.“ Jenny indicated for them to turn right. She was holding a scanner, charting the way up ahead.
“It’s eerily quiet…“ Yaz observed looking around. They hadn’t encountered anyone yet.
“This place is big, fifty people would barely fill a deck…“ Vastra mused but she had to agree, she didn’t like the quiet either.
“They seem to be gathered on the main deck…“ Jenny explained, interpreting the scanner readings.
“Then that’s where we’re heading.“ Vastra decided. It was their best bet.
“Right into the lion’s mouth for glorious battle.“ Strax sounded extremely pleased with the course of action.
“It’s our best chance of finding the Thirteen and in turn, Professor Song…“ Vastra explained upon seeing Yaz’s doubtful expression.
“Do you not think it’s strange?“ Yaz asked as it wasn’t the direction she was unsure about.
“What is?“ Jenny retorted.
“That no-one had noticed us yet…“ Yaz looked around the empty corridors. “I mean, I know this place is big but Strax knocked through their shields… punched a hole in their wall… loss of air pressure, surely they should have had alarms for those things…“ She carried on explaining, and none of them could argue.
“The lad is right, it’s too easy.“ Strax grinned excited at the prospect of a dangerous situation.
“All we can do is be on guard, we will have to face them eventually, whether it’s with the element of surprise or not.“ Vastra decided that it was too late to worry about it now. They were all more than capable of defending themselves, they would be fine. “Now, which way to the main deck?“
——
Glasgow, 2021
“His car is being brought around.“ Jack’s voice filled the Torchwood Two hub where Kate and the Osgoods were watching a video feed of what Jack and Mickey were seeing. “He’s taking off…“ Jack carried on and they watched Barton head towards a black car. “And he’s making a phone call!“
“See if you can get a trace on that call.“ Kate turned to the Osgoods who were already working the controls. One was zooming in on Barton while the other attempted to hack the phone call.
“Yes, Ma’am.“ They retorted in unison and there was a crackling noise until finally Barton’s voice echoed through the hub:
“I thought you said there was no way of things getting back to me.“ Barton was growling while slamming the door shut on his car.
“What are you talking about, Mr. Barton.“ The voice on the other end of the call was male, and none of them recognised them.
“The Doctor! Her friends are here, asking all sorts of questions. Now, I have no idea what exactly you’re doing and frankly I don’t want to know. Plausible deniability, do you even know what that is?“ Barton barked, clearly unsettled. They had done a good job of rattling him. “Do not contact me until you have results. You have your resources, the facilities, everything else is up to you!“
“Get a tracker on that car!“ Kate instructed quickly as the car started up and Mickey was quick to shoot a transponder to the back of it as it was driving off.
“What did they say?“ The voice of Barton’s contact was still loud and clear in the Torchwood hub.
“What?“ Barton snapped back.
“The Doctor’s friends, what did they say?“ The other man pressed on.
“They know about the experiments.“ Barton growled, his voice low and angry.
“Is that all?“
“I didn't exactly stop to chat.“ Barton sounded exasperated now. “Don’t contact me until you’re ready.“ The call ended abruptly without another response from the other side.
——
Demon’s Run, 52nd Century
“What’s that noise?“ Strax stopped dead in his tracks and the others halted as well, nearly running into him.
“Oh yeah, I can hear it, too.“ Jenny agreed listening out. There was a faint clicking noise, like bottle caps being opened somewhere far off.
“Let’s move along, I don’t have a good feeling about this…“ Vastra urged them on, looking up and down the corridor. Something wasn’t right. There was a change in the air, it suddenly grew stale and heavy. “The air circulation…“ Vastra realised what it was and glanced anxiously ahead to the end of the corridor where a large bulkhead was just rolling shut.
“What’s happening?“ Yaz asked, unsettled by the sudden stillness around them.
“Run. To the bulkhead, we need to open it up!“ Vastra exclaimed, they didn’t have a moment to lose and without questions that would have delayed them, they sprinted forward. An ear piercing alarm sounded and emergency lights started flashing along their way.
“Evacuate this section, the deck will be vented in t-minus two minutes.“ A computer voice announced across the intercom.
“The bulkhead is sealed shut.“ Jenny announced and Strax took a couple of shots at it for good measure. It didn’t budge.
“What’s happening?“ Yaz asked.
“They’re about to vent this entire section into space.“ Vastra explained quickly. “We need to get out of here, otherwise we will be sucked into the vacuum.“
“Well, well, well, what have we here, uninvited guests.“ A voice boomed over the intercom.
“I know that voice…“ Yaz breathed in disbelief, shuddering involuntarily. They all looked around. Yaz was first to spot the camera directed at the bulkhead they were standing in front of.
“The Doctor’s merry men, I presume? Or merry women? He does like to surround himself with the fairer sex, doesn’t he. No, offence, Sontaran.“ The voice carried on with some amusement. “Is he here, too? Oh I really hope he is…“
“It’s the Master.“ Yaz exclaimed, shaking off the initial shock.
“What?“ Vastra frowned as they all looked to Yaz in surprise. The Master was the last person they would have expected to find here. They had presumed him to be on Gallifrey still. Perhaps Dorium’s memory of who had saved him from the Transept had been correct and it had been the Master after all.
“I’d know that voice anywhere, it’s him alright!“ Yaz squared her jaw.
“Is he working with the Thirteen?“ Jenny asked and Vastra replied:
“Wouldn’t surprise me.“
“Now, would you stop talking, that’s just plain rude! Did you really think you could break in and no-one would notice you?“ The voice boomed across the speakers again, he seemed to be able to hear them.
“Kill them now! I want to see them floating through the airlock.“ There was another voice too.
“Patience, the countdown is so much more dramatic. Also, I have questions! How did you find us? Why are you here? And where is the Doctor?“ The first voice carried on.
“The Doctor knows we’re here!“ Yaz exclaimed. It was a bluff of course but perhaps it would make him think twice about killing them.
“Release Professor Song to us!“ Vastra demanded turning glaring at the surveillance camera to whoever was sitting on the other side of it.
“The only thing I’m going to release is you… into space.“ The voice snickered in amusement.
“Ma’am.“ Jenny mumbled, catching her wife’s attention and Vastra looked around, following her wife’s eyes to a maintenance panel on the wall. Yaz noticed it too and without a moment’s hesitation, she raised her gun and shot the surveillance camera above their heads.
“Now that’s not very nice of you!“ The voice snarled.
“Quickly now!“ Vastra urged and Jenny quickly pushed her sword behind the panelling to wedge it open.
“Whatever you’re planning, it won’t work!“ The voice carried on. “You will be dead in a few minutes!“
“Get in!“ Vastra gave her wife a leg up to the maintenance shaft. Strax refused her help and launched himself up with surprising force, nearly getting stuck in the small shaft but Yaz, who followed after, pushed him on.
“Fine, let’s get this over with, if you’re not going to play…“ The air was sucked out of the corridor and Vastra gasped, grabbing hold of the edge of the shaft as the force of the outside vacuum tried to rip her away. Yaz was quick to grab her arms and pull her inside as the air continued to get sucked out. Vastra turned quickly and closed the panel, keeping the vacuum at bay for the time being.
“That was close…“ Yaz leaned against the side of the shaft to catch her breath. It was wide enough to move around in and turn but only if they stayed crouched down.
“We have to be careful now that they know we’re here. We have to find the Professor and quickly.“ Vastra said as they climbed along the shaft. “Chances are, the Thirteen will have the data stick, or whatever he’s using to store her consciousness, with him…“
“You’re sure that was the Master, Yaz?“ Jenny asked, looking behind herself to make sure the others were close behind.
“I’d know that voice anywhere.“ Yaz nodded.
“Then we are facing even greater odds than anticipated.“ Vastra mused, concerned. Perhaps they were out of their depth without the Doctor with them, particularly now that they had lost the element of surprise.
“It will be a glorious battle. I’ve not had as much fun as this in years!“ Strax didn’t seem to mind at all and Yaz nearly bumped into him when he stopped crawling as Jenny had done up ahead.
“Which way?“ Jenny asked, as the shaft split in two directions.
“We ought to split up, cover more ground. We will be harder to track that way as well.“ Vastra said after brief consideration. “Jenny, you and Strax go left, Yaz and I will go right.“ She decided.
“Are you sure about that?“ Jenny asked, sounding insecure for a moment as Strax moved to her side and allowed Yaz and Vastra to pass through to the right.
“It will be fine, my love.“ Vastra gave her wife a soft smile and reached for her hand. “We will rendezvous back at the ship. If you run into trouble, just get back there.“ She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
“Okay.“ Jenny smiled, gathering her courage. “Be careful.“ She gave her wife a stern look, and Vastra nodded.
“Come on, lad!“ Strax called out, already halfway down the left hand shaft.
“Look after her, Strax.“ Vastra called after him and got a “Yes Ma’am…“ for an answer.
“More like, I look after him.“ Jenny chuckled. “You be careful too, both of you.
——
Demon’s Run Holding Cells, 52nd Century
“The Doctor’s merry men, I presume? Or merry women? He does like to surround himself with the fairer sex, doesn’t he. No, offence, Sontaran.“ The Thirteen’s voice carried through all of Demon’s Run, echoing through empty corridors and to the cell River was being held in. “Is he here too? Oh I really hope he is…“
River tried her best to stay calm, not get her hopes up but there were only so many people she could think of that would steal aboard Demon’s Run with a Sontaran in tow. Someone had noticed that she had been taken from the Library, and they were coming for her, they had to be. He had to be.
“I wouldn't get my hopes up. We’re just venting the entire section into space.“ Kovarian snarled, stepping up to the forcefield that kept them separate.
River hugged her son to her chest, running her fingers through his short fluffy curls that had grown a little longer since she had last seen him. They must have taken him maybe a couple of weeks after she had dropped him off at Paternoster Row, and now it seemed her dear friends had come to their rescue.
“Do you think Daddy might be coming to get us out of here?“ She hummed to the infant and pressed a kiss to his head. “He’s going to be terribly cross when he finds out about you… but not as cross as he’s going to be with them .“
“The Doctor isn’t here.“ Kovarian retorted and River gave her a condescending smile.
“As far as you know.“ She retorted, returning her attention to her son. She had missed him so much. She had had no idea of the danger he had been in, but for now, she was just grateful to have him back in her arms. Her time in the Library had felt like an eternity and she had missed him every second of it.
Kovarian turned away from the cell and pressed her hand to her ear, seemingly receiving a message.
“I’m on my way.“ She announced and turned back to River. “Don’t go anywhere, Melody, dear. Not that you could.“ She snarled and River smirked.
“Better run and hide, Madame Kovarian. A storm is coming for you.“ River stepped up close to the forcefield, regarding the other woman with nothing but distaste and pity. “There are no Gods, no force in the universe, that will save you when my husband finds out what you’ve done.“
Kovarian lingered for a moment, seemingly considering her response. River was sure there was a little bit of something in her eye, the one without the eye drive anyway. Something akin to a flicker of fear. Kovarian turned and marched away without another word before River had the chance to point it out.
“Right then, dear, time for mummy to get to work.“ River hummed when Kovarian had departed and she walked up to where the control panel for the force field was. “Your daddy is good but so am I, let’s make our own way…“
——
Demon’s Run Main Hanger, 52nd Century
“Ah, there we are…“ The Master stepped out of the TARDIS first upon the Doctor’s request, just in case he was taking them somewhere dangerous on purpose. He knocked against a large computer console and the Doctor realised immediately that it was a TARDIS with a functioning chameleon circuit.
“I know this place…“ The Doctor realised as she looked away from the TARDIS at the surrounding area and a feeling of overwhelming dread took hold of her.
“Oh?“ The Master looked around as well but waited for her explanation.
“This is Demon’s Run.“ The Doctor said and she was sure of it. The battle of Demon’s Run still stuck in her bones despite numerous regenerations.
“Oh I see, I’ve never been but I heard it was quite the party.“ The Master pushed his hands into his pockets as he had a look around. “Where is everyone?“ He asked, then called: “HELLO! ANYONE HOME?“
��Will you shut up?!“ The Doctor slapped her hand to his mouth, shutting him up. “We have the element of surprise here!“
“You really don’t, you know.“ A voice called from the other end of the hanger.
“What…“ The Doctor was at a loss for words. She looked to the Master next to her, then back to the person advancing towards them. Same frame, same dark hair, same face. They even wore the same purple suit.
“Now this is a surprise.“ The other man grinned, proving that their voice was the same too.
“Maybe you were right, Doctor, maybe I’m not as innocent as I anticipated.“ The Master hummed, sounding intrigued as he sized up the man in front of them who, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be him. “Now, my loyalties might get a little… conflicted.“
The same mad smirk played on both their faces as the Doctor stood stunned, looking in between the two Masters.
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ellabxrnes · 3 years
Text
My Forbidden Soldier | VII
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Word Count:
1.5k
Chapter Summary: 
Steve and reader sign contract, making Project FAM truly and legally official.
Part VIII | Masterlist | AO3
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It had been such a lovely walk to work this morning. The Spring air flowing through the blossoming trees on your way to the office. It was also May 4th. A big day for every Star Wars fan, including yourself. Some of your co-workers had been planning on watching them after work, and you, desperate to make some new friends, were going to tag along. It was not a special day at work, just another Friday. You had clocked in and sat down at your desk to start the day, like any other office job it didn't consist of much work.
You'd been trying to file some old company paperwork when someone from another floor of the tower rushed into the quiet room yelling for people to pull the news up, begging to stay safe. At first, you were very confused. Then, you saw others going up to the windows and turning around looking petrified. Before you could make your way or see what was happening, a huge alien-like creature came straight through the window.
People started screaming everywhere, panicking, and making phone calls. You were so horrified you didn't know what to do. You tried to run, but all around was chaos.
You suddenly snapped out of it. You were sweating horribly and trying to catch your breath. You were trying to ground yourself after your nightmare. Avengers Compound. Steve. Drunk? Maybe. You woke up with a raging headache and trying to get a sense of time. You tried to get up from the couch you were laying on but got a terrible head rush when you stood up. You finally gave up and remained awake on the couch until you heard footsteps behind you, you turned around to see Steve. You give him a slight smile, but you're pretty sure it looked like a drunken grin.
"Hey Y/N. Look, I'm sorry for sending you here by yourself. I - uh, got caught up in something during the party. I had to do some press and then I was just talking with Tony's lawyers about some of the requir-,"
You held your arm up, signaling him to stop talking. "It's fine. I am just going to go to sleep. And is there any Advil around here?"
Steve led you to get some Advil and nearly picked you up and dragged you to the elevator.
"What did you drink?"
"Thor let me try this really good stuff,"
Asgardian liquor...
Steve just shook his head and led you to your room, before you knew it you nodded off, even while trying to fight off a headache.
***
It had been two full days since the party. Whatever Thor had given you that night completely knocked you out and you had been staying in your apartment trying to sleep it off, Steve had come to check on you as much as possible, he kept you updated on things going on around the compound.
Pepper had come by a few times too, mainly to talk you through and revise your weekly schedule, which was becoming longer and longer by the day. You had taken the weekend off and now it was Monday. Pepper had reminded you that today you would be meeting with lawyers to discuss the full legality of Project FAM, you would also have a chance to revise or ask questions, she reminded you that Steve would be there too.
All this free time in your apartment had given you time to reflect on your life before you'd come to the compound. You have been here almost 2 months now. Working an office job from 9-5 only to convince your parents that you were fine and pushing them away, never talking to them again hadn't been so bad, now that you are fake dating an Avenger.
And Steve. He made your time here better. No, you weren't in love with him, nor did he have any of those feelings for you, but it felt good having someone to be affectionate with. He did care for you, and after finding out that Adrian was just a field agent and a cover-up, it felt like you had been betrayed. You'd never put much trust into anyone, so it was nice to let down your walls a little.
Since you had a meeting today you decided now would be a good time to get ready and see if anyone had made breakfast. Typically, if the team wasn't on a mission, debriefing, etc. someone would take the time to prepare something. It was strange though because you figured that Tony would have chefs working around the clock to prepare nutritious meals to help the team. You didn't mind though because someone whipped up the best pancakes you had ever tasted.
***
You got ready and headed to the kitchen to see if anyone was still there. The compound was quiet until you approached the living area and saw Steve talking with two people. You recognized one from the party the other night, or what you could remember of it rather. His name was... Bucky? You then remembered meeting him on the balcony. From what you could recall he hid in the corner and scared you. Well, he could be a shadow when he wanted to, but right now he looked fairly relaxed. The person next to Steve was Wanda. You remember she had tagged along with Widow and Pepper when you were getting ready for the party. She was very quiet.
You waved at Wanda and she flashed you a smile and walked over as she kept talking. You noticed she whispered something towards Steve before you walked up. You jokingly looped your arm around Steve's like you had that night on the red carpet, he was a little surprised to see you.
"Anyways Steve, I heard you two both have a busy day today. And hello Y/N, it's nice seeing you again!" The friendly Sokovian then walked off, leaving you, Steve, and Bucky.
"So, Bucky. Sorry about what you saw on the balcony this weekend." you forced a laugh out.
He mumbled something you figured only Steve could hear and then walked off. You were a little hurt, you had always tried to be kind to people. Steve saw your expression.
"Look, Buck- he's been through a lot. While I was on the ice, he was being tortured by Hydra. He's just now getting his life back in order. It takes him time to trust people."
Your arm was still intertwined with Steve's and you led him to the kitchen as you kept asking him questions about Bucky. You had paid attention to your History classes in high school, but a lot of the information you had forgotten over the years. When Steve started talking about the Winter Soldier, it clicked. You remember reading about that and James Buchannan Barnes in the history books.
You were disappointed that no one had fixed (or left any) food while you were with Steve, so instead you just brewed yourself a cup of coffee and we're sipping on it, looking out the window at the field in front of you. Steve didn't linger too much on the topic of Bucky, you felt bad for both of them. One lost a best friend, while the other lost himself. He sat down beside you and brought up his earlier conversation with Wanda. He also apologized for leaving you the other night when you were drunk. He opened up about a recent lead with Hydra. Unbeknownst to you, the Avengers were trying to take down Hydra once and for all. After SHIELD being compromised a few years back, and housing, not one, but two of Hydra's most wanted here at the compound, the team knew they were threatening.
***
After the morning and talking to Steve, you both walked to Tony's office and met with the lawyers. They had outlined a lot of your questions related to the fake relationship. You and Steve had set boundaries, but nothing legally yet. You knew going in that it wouldn't be a walk in the park. The contract stated that you and Steve must attend public events together at least once a month, you must be seen in public together twice, and you would have to do interviews together. Anything said about the other had to be romantic, you had to make sure that everything you said about the Avengers was positive. And the absolute biggest rule: No dating other people, but what other options do you have? The contract expired in 12 months, but it would ultimately be your and Steve's decision to renew it.
You signed where they told you to. You swear you had to sign at least 50 times. It wasn't a thin piece of paper either, it was a whole book. After the signing, you decided you would take a walk around the compound, now that Tony and Steve felt it was safe for you to do so.
12 months. Fake Dating. Steve Rogers. This will be easy.
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@ladyfallonavenger
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yournewapartment · 4 years
Note
YNA, I need help or advice or something: there's this video going around Facebook, that my cousin just sent me, from a woc who is saying that "racially motivated police brutality is a myth" and I'm so angry like how can she say that? "White men are more likely to be killed by cops," "cops are more likely to be killed by black men," and crap like that. I dont believe any of it but how do I prove to my cousin it's bs? The woman was citing figures and yelling "look it up!!" Was she bluffing?
I recently listened to a wonderful podcast from In The Dark about the case of Curtis Flowers, a POC who had to endure an unprecedented number of murder trails in Mississippi for a mass murder he did not commit. The prosecutor on the case, an asshole named Doug Evans, was a racist, and tried the case six times. There is only one other case in all of United States history, to have been tried even close to this many times. One other case! Curtis’ case kept getting overturned because his defense team was able to prove time and time again, that Evans and his team were racists. They used their legal power in the courtroom to strike as many black people from the jury pool as possible. Out of the six trials (think 12 jurors and 3 alternates), I believe only eight POC made it onto the jury. That’s 8 out of 90 possible! My memory might not be 100% correct, but you get the point. 
It’s a wonderful podcast and I highly recommend you listen if you’re interested in true crime. BUT, my point...
During several of the trials, Mr. Evans used jail-house informants who were POC. All of them have since recanted their testimony and have said that Evans paid them to testify or helped them get lesser prison sentences. But this is after the fact. In the Dark investigators interviewed different jurors who sat on different juries (the jail house informants were used at almost every trial). Many of the white jurors said that they gave the jailhouse informants more credence than they normally would have, because they were POC. They said that they did not think that POC would turn on other POC if it wasn’t for a good reason. Which is, my friends.... wait for it... just another form of racism against POC! 
The few black jurors that made it to juries did not give the jailhouse informants more credence at all. Several even said that they found the jail house informants very untrustworthy and unreliable. Because the court literally tells you: “Hey, these are jail house informants, you have to take their testimony with a grain of salt.”
I haven’t seen this video and I obviously don’t know the background of it or of the POC on it. But it sounds to me like white people are watching this video and thinking: “Well, this is a POC saying these things, so this video has to be an honest take on the situation.” It’s sounding like they’re giving this video more weight and importance than they would a video of a white person saying the same exact things. 
Which is... racism! 
Racism is not always brutality and violence, thought it often times is. 
Racism can be your white grandmother saying: “I don’t have a problem with black people, their music is just too loud.” 
It can be your friend saying the n-word when she’s singing along to a Kendrick Lamar song: “He said it first, so why can’t I say it?” 
It can be a co-worker assuming a POC co-worker speaks a different language based on their skin color. 
It can even be you! If I’m walking around at night by myself, and I see a group of black men hanging out in a park, doing their own thing, why am I uneasy? I have to ask myself- if this were a group of white men, would I still feel uneasy? Why do I feel this way? Do I carry inherent racism with me as a white person, just based on the way I react with society as a white woman? 
Guys- I definitely do! And if you’re a white person reading this, I bet you do too. My parents are die-hard liberals who have always touted equal rights for everyone. In my education, I never had a teacher spout openly racist view points or try to “brain wash me” into being racist. It was a default. A default, because every interaction I’ve had with everyone I’ve ever met, has in some part been a judgment based on my appearance. It’s not a conscious thing, it’s what we as humans do, we take in our surroundings. Living life as a white woman has granted me invisible privileges that POC do not share. 
And... that’s a hard pill to swallow. I’m sure that I’ll get comments on this post and asks in my inbox with angry white people criticizing what I’ve just said. Because nobody wants to be called a racist! White people who spend their whole lives with POC, who have never intentionally said anything negative about POC, do not want to hear that they were essentially born into racism. Fam, I didn’t want to hear it either! But it is not enough to “not be a racist”. We’ve come too far as a species to sit back idly and occasionally tweet “Black Lives Matter” and congratulate ourselves for the effort. As a white person with my rights and privileges, it is my duty to society to be actively “anti-racist”. 
It is my duty to educate myself. It is my duty to stand with POC. To amplify POC’s voices. To listen when POC talk. And most importantly- to not make it about myself! Which I have in this post, I know. But as semi-popular blogger who is white, I feel that I needed to write this out to help other white people.  White people- get angry! Be the change you wish to see in the world. Step up and do what you can to support POC. 
I know I’ve somewhat indirectly answered your question, so more to the point. I don’t know who this POC is in the video. But on a very basic level, I know that you know, that what the woman in the video is saying is not the truth. It’s been proven time and time again that POC (particularly black POC), have been murdered by the systemic racism of our justice system. Just scroll back on my blog and check out the posts I reblogged #blacklivesmatter for more specific details. This is not to say that the justice system magically works 100% if you’re white, it clearly doesn’t. But as a white person, you have a much better chance of getting a fair shake of things. Whether that’s being pulled over by a cop, being arrested, or even getting an impartial jury. These are basic human rights that we should all enjoy! 
Anyone can hop on the internet, record a shitty video, and act like it’s the truth. I can record a video stating that I’m an FBI agent who has been hunting serial killers using the nanotechnology of gusher candies, but nobody is going to fucking believe me. Every video on the internet needs to be treated with scrutiny, and frankly, your cousin is a fool if she’s willing to end her education on racism just because she watched one video with a POC condemning it.
In this case, I would message your cousin the following resources on racism and police statistics so that she can educate herself. There are countless articles all over the internet:
https://mappingpoliceviolence.org/
https://www.citylab.com/equity/2019/08/police-officer-shootings-gun-violence-racial-bias-crime-data/595528/
Also important resources:
https://blacklivesmatter.com/
https://www.aclu.org/
How to be anti-racist: https://weedmaps.com/news/2020/06/where-to-start-being-anti-racist-educate-yourself-with-black-voices/
https://medium.com/wake-up-call/a-detailed-list-of-anti-racism-resources-a34b259a3eea
Check out the case of Curtis Flowers on all your favorite podcast streaming services: https://www.apmreports.org/in-the-dark/season-two/curtis-flowers-updates
I appreciate everyone who read this. I feel a little uneasy posting this if I’m being honest. I am white, this isn’t about my voice. So if you are a POC and have feedback for me, please let me know. I will keep on keeping on, and will do my part to support #blacklivesmatter.
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softbiker · 4 years
Text
Steve Rogers Oneshot
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Warnings: language, attempted sexual assault and harassment, mentions of past sexual assault and harassment - do not read if these situations are triggering for you.
Word count: 6.1k - am I capable of writing anything short anymore???
A/N: HI I’M FINALLY BACK AND POSTING SOMETHING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ALMOST 3 MONTHS WOW. This story continues the Agent 14 series (so definitely check that out in my masterlist if you’re not familiar!) and...it’s something I’ve had on my mind for a while. I just needed to get it out. I hope that you like it and please share what you think! Feedback is appreciated!
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When her phone starts buzzing, she’s mid-swing at the faded sandbag hanging from the ceiling. 
She’s glad to have the place to herself - the dusty air and stale silence more of a comfort. A bead of sweat slides down her temple, itching past her ear, and her finger scratches at the spot absently, coming away salty wet. There’s sweat slicking her scalp, too; she feels it under the tight twist of her braids, heat trapped beneath the strands. Her dirty little basement gym - faded posters lining the walls, advertising fights long finished, flickering bulbs hanging from the ceiling, stained linoleum - is quiet in the mornings. A kind of quiet that is all too rare in the city, in her life. 
Sure, it was nice of Sam to continue inviting her on their morning runs - she has every intention of taking him up on his offer, when she finally gets off the opening shift at work. She sees his 4 a.m. offers a couple times a week, shooting back a quick response that she’s already up, heading in to open the cafe. He finds it all so funny; calls her “Agent Barista”, and endearingly teases her about her rigorous coffee training at the SHIELD Academy. 
Okay but real talk, 14 - what’s your top secret mission down at Starbucks? Pinged her phone as she brushed her teeth and concealed undereye circles with strategic swipes of makeup. 
Key word in your question is “top secret”, Wilson. As in, tell you but I’d have to kill you. You know the drill. 
Another ping. Yeah, yeah. Y’all agents talk a good game, but I know for a fact 41 can be bought with a box of See’s candies. Just gotta figure out your weakness. 
Good luck. 
No luck needed. I’ll bring a couple sweaty super soldiers your way around 8:30, you’re welcome. 
With a wrapped hand, she flicks one swinging braid back over her shoulder, turning to her duffel bag for her phone. It’s buried under a spare pair of socks and a sports bra she forgot to wash, still buzzing as she grasps it and flips the screen upwards in her hand. 
Unknown caller. 
She’d bet every cent to her name that she could guess who was on the other end of the line. Tongue pressed against her teeth, she dismisses the call and drops her phone back in her bag. Fury can wait. 
Turning back to the sandbag, she sucks a quick breath through her nose, curling power in her lean shoulders, and then unleashes a furious combination of jabs and kicks on the beaten plastic. Grunts and harsh pants slip past her lips, fists slinging blow after punishing blow, her weight held bouncing on the balls of her feet. The sandbag is a stoic opponent, taking her fists and feet without so much as a groan of protest, swinging back only a few inches on the chain even as she whips around high for a roundhouse kick. Growling, she rocks her weight back on her heels, before leaping forward off one leg to drive her knee into the bag with bruising force. More to herself than the bag, she thinks, glancing down at the tender skin on her bare knee, stinging from the impact. She leans an elbow against the bag and drops her head, swiping at the baby hairs along her forehead. 
The phone buzzes again, insistent and muffled, and she lets her head drop back with a heavy sigh, eyes closed. 
“Shut up,” she mutters, eyes narrowing in a nasty glare at the offending noise. 
“I didn’t say anything.” 
She whirls at the sound, fists raised - she hadn’t even heard him enter. 
Steve has the good grace to look sheepish as he approaches from a shadowed staircase in the corner of the room, his hands raised in surrender. Not many people have had the sheer dumb luck - and misfortune - of sneaking up on her, and the part of her brain not whiplashed by adrenaline grudgingly admires him for it. 
“Morning, Captain,” 14 sighs, her hands falling to her hips, rolling her neck against the tension in her shoulders. 
“Morning,” he smiles. He’s trimmed back the beard, she notices, closer to the sharp line of his jaw. Dust motes swirl around his golden head like fairy dust as he passes through the puddles of light cast from the weak overhead bulbs. It strikes her then, the unassuming slope of his shoulders, a little shuffle in his gait, not quite lifting his feet from the ground. Not a strut, no stalking or preening like the SHIELD boys she came up at the Academy with, eager to throw their weight around. Somehow, despite his height, he manages to duck his head, to look up at her under a fringe of enviable dark lashes. Disarming and soft, a wayward blond strand falling over his forehead, he tucks his hands into his pockets, standing just a few feet away from her. He nods at the hanging sandbag behind her. 
“Gave that thing quite a beating,” he says, tilting a dark eyebrow. She shrugs one shoulder. 
“Looked at me funny,” she quips back, still catching her breath from the last bout. Her tongue swipes at a drop of sweat on her upper lip. Sniffing, she turns her gaze down to the wrapping on her hands. “I don’t recall inviting you, Rogers - I thought this was a private session.” 
“Sorry for intruding,” he says, scrunching his nose and swiping at the errant lock of hair hanging before his eyes. With a jerk of his chin, he gestures towards her gym bag, where her phone has gone blessedly silent. “Fury had a feeling you would, um, how does Sam say it…’shady button’ him?” 
She snorts in spite of herself, just managing to slap a hand over her mouth before her laugh becomes obnoxious. Even in the dim light of the fluorescents, she can see the high flush creeping up those scruffy cheeks. Steve rubs the back of his neck, a familiar embarrassment curling in his belly; it’s a joke the team plays sometimes, and he gets it, he really does. Gotta laugh at your CO sometimes - it brings the team together; so he drops little phrases here and there, incongruous slang with his pleated slacks and old-fashioned manners. Even things that Sam says - the word “fam”, or adding “ass” as a suffix to virtually any word - from Steve’s mouth, they’re suddenly enough to have the team rolling with laughter, Tony red-faced, Wanda close to tears. The tips of his ears burn, and he always acts put out, lowers his stern father brows, but if there’s one thing he learned as a Brooklyn-born punk, it’s how to take his punches.
“Oh, I’m sorry - I’m sorry,” 14 says, hand still half-covering the silly grin tugging at her mouth. “It just sounded so funny coming from you. It was like-”
“Kinda like if your dad were saying it?” Steve purses his lips, tilts his head to the side.
“Oh god…yes, that’s exactly it.” It ignites a fresh burst of giggles, though she scrunches her nose and shakes her head at the image. “Uh, just do us both a favor and don’t say that again.” 
“I don’t think you can restrict Captain America’s freedom of speech.” He lifts his eyebrows, playful, considering. The slope of his nose casts a long shadow across his cheek, skin like Irish cream. She rolls her eyes, turning away to her duffel bag, using her teeth to tug at the wrappings on her hands. 
“So. You’re Nick’s new personal assistant or something?” Dropping to the bench, she rummages through her gym bag and takes a long gulp from her water bottle. She swipes at her phone screen - 3 missed calls now. 
Steve shrugs. 
“I volunteered,” he says simply, large knuckles still visible where they stay curled in his pockets. “Thought…hoped I might have better luck.”
She licks her lower lip, chasing a coveted drop of water. It’s not as though she’s tired of the job - it varies so much, from one day to the next, that it makes boredom impossible. No, it’s not the job, she’s just…tired. Of what, or why, she can’t really say. Steve is patient. He doesn’t say anymore, just waits, standing a few feet away and shifting his weight from one leg to the other, his soft eyes watchful. Her fingers go to her shoulders, massaging the oncoming ache in her muscles. 
“What’s the mission?” 
  **********                                                                                      
“You need some help there, punk?” Bucky leans a hip against the doorframe, arms crossed over his beloved NASA hoodie, an amused twitch tugging at the corner of his mouth. Across the room, Steve frowns at him in the mirror. 
“Never really got the hang of these damned things,” Steve huffs, fingers losing the knot on his bowtie and sighing again as the cloth falls loose from the crisp collar of his shirt. Hands falling to his narrow hips, he turns to Bucky, wearing a look of defeat rarely seen on Steve Rogers. 
Wordlessly, Bucky shuffles across the carpet and begins to knot the offending fabric, fingers of metal and flesh looping one strand over the other and back again. Chin lifted, brows furrowed, a marble bust of martyrdom, Steve is ever stoic while he works. 
“Thought you were gonna shave for this,” Bucky comments, his voice quiet, not lifting his eyes from the tie. Steve makes a dissenting noise from his throat. 
“Yeah, well, the beard makes it easier to keep a low profile,” he says, a hand reaching up to rub his whiskers absentmindedly. “And besides, I’m sort of attached to it now.” 
Bucky chuckles, a smile dimpling his own scruffy cheeks. 
“Know what you mean - God, but nobody looked like this when we were kids, ya know?” He steps back, finished with the tie, and gives Steve an appraising nod, pursing his lips. “Not too bad, Rogers, not too bad.” 
Raising a dubious brow, Steve turns back to the mirror, tugging at the sleeves and adjusting his shoulders in the tux. Strictly white tie - totally out of his element, but sometimes duty comes with a dress code. He wedges a thick finger between the starched white collar and his own tender skin. 
“In this get up?” Steve shakes his head. “Never did get used to wearing a monkey suit.” 
Tongue in his cheek, Bucky grins. 
“Have you seen yourself in your uniform?” 
Steve flings a fist back behind him, grinning triumphantly when his hit lands in Bucky’s gut; a metal fist swings in retaliation, but Steve manages to sidestep, his hands raised in quick surrender. 
“Hey, not too rough,” he says, tamping down a mischievous smile. “Tony will have my head if I ruin another one of these.” 
“Tony could buy you one for every day of the week,” Bucky scoffs, rolling his eyes. 
A knock on the doorframe makes them both turn. 
It’s been years now, since he met Natasha - wind whipping up familiar curls on the deck of the helicarrier, a watchful smile, wolves’ teeth hidden under a lamb-soft face. Even later, when he learned to trust her, he always found himself surprised at her startling contrasts, the ease with which she managed to be two things at once; ally and spy, friend then enemy then family. In truth, she was testing him. They both knew. Years of probing, disguised as teasing and sarcasm and near-insubordination - assessing his strength, his weakness, the man behind the shield. And after all this time, it was his steadiness at each of her own turns that pacified her, let her learn to lean on him in return. 
She smiles in the doorway now, her bright hair swept sleek behind her ears, revealing diamond teardrop earrings, probably on loan from Tony’s collection. The tips of her hair just brush her pale, bare shoulders, revealed by the strapless neckline of her jumpsuit. Black was always her signature color - never dull, though, because with Nat black is a spectrum, a rainbow refracted through her prism: intimidating, alluring, powerful, subtle. 
“You clean up good, Rogers,” she smirks, her hands tucked into her pockets as she gives him a look of approval. “Keeping the beard, though?” 
Steve’s hand idly brushes against his trimmed whiskers.
“It’s grown on me,” he admits. “And besides, I’ve got too much of a baby face without it.” 
“Some girls like that.” 
“Some guys like that,” Bucky adds, waggling his eyebrows. 
“Yeah, well,” Steve rubs the back of his neck, willing down the flush that crept up at his friends’ praise. “I’m not supposed to be the bait tonight.” 
“No, I guess that’s my job.” Another voice appears behind Nat, her head peaking around Nat’s shoulder as she steps forward to share the space in the doorway. 
Unbidden, Steve feels his mouth fall open. He always thought she was beautiful, from the first time he saw her, no makeup and the sleeves of her sweater splashed with coffee and mocha sauce; this morning, in the dusty half-light of the basement gym, sweat gleaming on her forehead and arms. But he wasn’t prepared to see her like this, glowing in his doorway, draped in a pink silk slip that exposed one of her thighs. She’d let her hair loose from it’s tight braids, her makeup bringing a dewy sheen to her cheeks - she looked…fresh, blooming like a rose. A clean swipe of red across her lips, almost an afterthought, as if she couldn’t be bothered to make more effort than that. Steve swipes his suddenly sweaty palms against his thighs and clears his throat. 
“Um, wow,” he says, wincing at his own voice, which nearly gave an embarrassingly pubescent crack. “I mean, you…uh, you look great.”
“Better than great,” Bucky pipes up, the amused tilt to his mouth the only hint that he enjoys Steve’s embarrassment. “She looks beautiful.” 
Nat nods in agreement. 
“The dress is perfect for you - is it one of Stark’s?” she asks. 14 shakes her head, modestly gesturing to the gown with her hand. 
“I’ve had it for a little while actually, I just couldn’t pass it up,” she sighs. “Just haven’t had the chance to wear it.” 
“Well, we’re finally gonna put some miles on it,” Natasha smiles, her eyes cutting to Steve, who has clamped his jaw shut to prevent himself from saying more. “We all ready? Happy’s pulling the car around.” 
14 nods, a shy smile tilting her mouth as she spares a glance at Steve before moving to follow Nat down the hall. She turns, and he sees that the cut of her dress falls low against the small of her back - almost low enough to glimpse the sweet dimples at the base of her spine. When they’re out of the doorway, he feels Bucky’s eyes on him - he’s perched on the edge of the bed, chewing his lip, one eyebrow lifted in an all-knowing look. He opens his mouth to speak but Steve lifts a hand. 
“Don’t,” Steve cuts him off. “I know what you’re gonna say Buck, but just- don’t.”
Bucky lifts his hands in surrender, standing from the bed and walking over to where Steve still stands in the middle of his room. 
“Fine, I won’t say a damn word,” Bucky sighs, shuffling across the thick carpet. He slaps his friend on the shoulder, gripping Steve with a firm hand. “Except you better move your ass instead of standing there like a dud - didn’t I tell you not to keep a lady waiting, Rogers?” 
 **********                                                                                         
Sam had whistled playfully as she glided out of the elevator on Steve’s arm, his eyebrows lifting halfway up his forehead. 
“Damn, girl - almost didn’t recognize you without your apron,” he winked, his gap-toothed grin charming as ever. 
“Didn’t match my shoes,” she winked back, flicking her hair over her shoulder. It sent a wave of her perfume drifting upwards; something bright and sweet, neroli, he thought, or orange blossom - maybe a hint of coconut. He had licked his lips without thinking; he’d like to smell it again, just to be sure. 
Here, in this stuffy ballroom across town, with eager officials and bourgeois brats trying to rub elbows with Captain America, he finds the smell much less appealing. Sweat and ambition, excess and greed, all covered in layers of atelier cologne (eau de aristocratie) and - well, Bucky heard enough of his socialist soapbox speeches back in the day, and his views certainly haven’t changed much. 
Still, he makes polite small talk with his admirers, rubs elbows, accepts drinks, all the while keeping one eye on the far corner of the room. It’s quiet, secluded, an overstuffed chaise with a soft cover tucked away from the buzz of the main dance floor. She’s perched there, ankles coquettishly crossed, the side slit of her dress revealing one leg and her glittering open-toed shoes; she leans on one arm, tilting her head towards the target, charming smile drawing up her lips as she hangs on his every word. Or pretends to, anyway. The target seems not to know the difference: Robbie Sinclair, a middle-aged man with the tanned smile of a Kennedy, salt and pepper hair slicked back from his face with a boyish cowlick escaping near the front, grins confidently as he talks to her. Steve watches him preen and puff his chest, spreading his legs to take up far more space than he needs. He stretches one arm along the back of the couch, leaning closer than appropriate, but she doesn’t move away. 
He doesn’t like this, any of it. To be fair, he’d never been a big fan of the espionage facet of his job; much to Nat’s chagrin, subtlety and subterfuge were not Steve’s strong suits. If he had his way, they’d come in swinging and arrest this creep (and his insider-trading Wall Street buddies, too). But shooting from the hip wouldn’t work here, not when they still needed hard evidence on this guy, something more substantial than rumors - heavy as those rumors might be, words like “human trafficking” and “slavery” coming up in his SHIELD files. He understood the necessity, and so did 14. 
Still, bringing her here and dangling her like a worm on a hook, hoping this asshole would take the bait…his stomach churned, whiskey bubbling unpleasantly at the thought. Steve angles his body around a chatty senator, trying to maintain his view on the corner. Sinclair looks about ready to take a bite, his head bent close to 14’s, sly smirk plastered on his face as he whispers something in her ear. Did her fist tighten around her glass? He can’t quite tell from this distance; he knows his own fingers are white-knuckled on his third whiskey. Or was it the fourth? 
In a blink, a stumble, a minute trapped in choked small talk with Miss New York (during which he wondered if her real teeth were filed down like a shark’s underneath that crown-winning smile like Sam told him), he’s lost her. 
A snowy static of panic whites out his brain, and his heart picks up against his ribcage as he all but shoves the beauty queen out of his way, his vision tunneling on the now-empty chaise in the corner. Where did she go? Where would she go? Barely managing subtlety know, he ducks his head, speaking to the comm device in his ear. 
“Natasha. Do you have eyes on them?” 
“…no, I was doing a sweep of the terrace outside,” she answers a moment later. “Did you lose them?”
Steve turns a circle where he stands, sharp eyes scanning each face and failing to find the one he wants to see. 
“They’re gone, I’ve lost visual.” He tries to keep his voice down, his tone tight and clipped. Through a break in the crowd, he thinks he catches a glimpse of her dress, but when he looks again it’s the wrong color, the wrong dress, the wrong woman-
“Alright, I’m heading back inside - I’ll go up the stairs to the next floor, see if they went up that way.” 
“Okay, I’ll take this floor,” Steve says, already making a beeline for the open doors of the ballroom, his tight-laced dress shoes clicking a solitary echo in the cavernous hallway just outside. Past the doors, and the gazes of nosy party-goers, he doubles his pace - the stiff starched tux protesting against the movement. 
They’re not tucked into the alcoves along this hallway, and he deliberates a moment where the hall forks in opposite directions, before darting to the left and continuing his clipped jog. In a small part of his brain, he knows he shouldn’t be this concerned about her. 14 was an agent - a highly trained, highly skilled agent; he’d worked with her enough by now to know firsthand how well she could handle herself. But the other part of him couldn’t shake the way Sinclair had looked at her - the way every man in the room had looked at her when she walked in, circling and waiting for their chance to close in. Not to mention the less-than-sterling reputation of Robbie Sinclair, who, aside from the trafficking conspiracy that put SHIELD on his scent, had a handful of secretaries threaten him with harassment suits, before they were quietly paid to keep their mouths shut. 
He comes to a dead end, a dancing nymph statue (far too baroque for his taste) mocking him with her tambourine against her hip. Doubling back, he curses under his breath and runs through the building schematics in his head, wondering where they could have slipped away to so quickly. 
“Natasha? Any luck?” 
“Negative. You?”
“No.” Steve clenches his fists and tries to force his heart back down from where it’s climbed up into his throat. His teeth grind together, jaw locked tight, holding in a frustrated growl. Unprompted, a wave of worst-case scenarios floods his mind - 14 dragged away by thugs, knocked unconscious, bleeding and gagged, unable to call for help. She’s a good agent. A good soldier. She can handle this. Try as he might to force them away, the tide of panic swells over and over inside him, the voice of his intuition telling him something must have gone wrong-
Behind him, an elevator dings. 
Steve turns to see the ancient metalwork door rattle open, Agent 14 stumbling out half a moment later. 
He blinks. She’s lost her shoes - no, she’s carrying them, the straps dangling from one hand. The side slit of her dress looks higher, and he notices the frayed edges along the top where the fabric has ripped. Her lipstick is smudged, her hair mussed, and she takes labored, panting breaths as she leans against the wall. 
It takes him a while to understand what he’s looking at. As his panic starts to ebb, something different, something wounded and green threatens to perch in its place, at the sight of her so disheveled, with swollen lips and rumpled clothes. He says nothing; he has nothing to say, shocked as he is by the bitter taste of his own thoughts, wondering if a rendezvous with Sinclair was worth the information she might have gained. 
It’s not until she starts sniffling that he notices the tears running down her cheeks.
The realization stops him cold, strangles the dark seed of doubt just starting to sprout in his heart, and fills him with shame and guilt. He takes a step forward. She’s not looking at him. 
“…14? Are you okay?” he asks, his voice hushed. “Are you hurt?” There were no visible wounds that he could see, though she had limped a little when coming out of the elevator. 
She nods, sniffing again.
“I’m-I’m fine,” she says, her voice scraping in her throat, barely holding back a sob. Squeezing her eyes shut, she presses a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent tears. 
In two steps he’s at her side, though unsure of what to do, what would be appropriate, what she wants or needs. Were they…friends? Acquaintances? Colleagues? Do work friends hug, comfort each other? 
“Can you tell me what happened?” he ventures softly, still not touching her, not crowding. He holds back a few inches, waiting, his hands feeling empty and heavy at his sides. “Do you want to?”
She nods, but it takes a few moments before she has regained her composure enough to lower her hand from her mouth and take a few rattling breaths, preparing to speak. 
“He…h-he,” she stutters over a sob, like a child who’s cried too hard for too long. “He grabbed me and-and was kissing me, and then he tried,” she’s interrupted by a hiccup and a shaky sigh. “He tried to…to…” 
She raises her eyes to his, tears welling up again, and shakes her head. She can’t say it, won’t say it - it is too much. It will make it real. 
For his part, Steve barely restrains himself from blacking out with rage. His jaw is so tight he can feel his teeth nearly crack from the strain, fists curled but unsatisfied with not being wrapped around Sinclair’s neck. How dare he? How dare anyone? When he gets his hands on this goddamned son of a bitch, he’ll-
His vengeful train of thought is interrupted when she collapses against his chest with a sob, gripping the lapels of his jacket for support. On instinct he wraps his arms around her, caging her in, his chin resting on top of her head. 
“I’m sorry - I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he hushes her and holds her, wishing there was more he could do, more he could say. He holds himself back from other platitudes, from it’s okay, and everything’s alright - he knows it’s not true. 
She shakes and cries and rides out the storm in his arms, full of anger and fear and shame and helplessness; all the while, he stands silent and solid, murmuring soothing words his mother might have said - in another life, when someone held him, protected him. 
Neither of them knows how much time has passed when her sobs become less violent, when her breathing calms, but she doesn’t step away. Her head doesn’t move from its place on his chest, and he makes no sign of wanting it to. Gently, slowly, he rocks her in his embrace, one hand smoothing over her back. 
After a while, she speaks. 
“I’m so tired,” she whispers. From this angle, he can see her blink slowly, tear tracks drying on her cheeks. He nods.
“You’re coming down from the adrenaline - that’s normal,” he murmurs, letting her weight sag against him, wondering if he’ll need to carry her.
“No,” she shakes her head. “Not like that…that’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?” 
She doesn’t answer, not right away; her breathing has settled into an easier rhythm, less frenzied and panting. Her fingers slide from their place at his chest to rest around his waist. 
“When I was in high school, there was this guy.” Her voice startles him when she finally speaks again, she’s been silent for so long. He makes a noise to let her know he’s listening before she goes on. “He was…I don’t know. Popular, I guess. Cute. Football player. Advanced classes. All the girls liked him.” She takes a shuddering breath before forging ahead. “And-and I guess he liked me because he couldn’t leave alone for a single fucking minute.
“God, it was constant. He’d grab my ass, or say dirty things about me to other guys…sometimes it wasn’t even sexual, it was like…he’d squeeze my waist or pinch the fat on the back of my arms and comment about my weight.” She sniffs, and Steve tightens his arms around her, not speaking. “One time, between classes, he grabbed me by the hips and bent me backwards over a desk - he wouldn’t let go, and he was just laughing…and no one said anything, none of the guys or my friends or anybody.” 
Steve frowns, feeling impotent and frustrated. “I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head again. 
“The worst thing is I just put up with it. I didn’t say anything…I didn’t think, I didn’t know-” she huffs a bitter laugh. “I guess I just thought it was flirting. Like I should’ve been flattered by it.” 
“You shouldn’t - you don’t have to take that,” Steve says, fighting to control his tone. “Not from anyone.” 
“I know that now,” she says. “But I was just a kid…nobody told me. Nobody helped me.”
He opens his mouth, tries to think of something to say, but she goes on.
“And nobody told me that it never gets better, it never changes.” He can feel how tightly her fists are clenched at his sides. “No one told me that this would be the rest of my fucking life. First it was him, and old men at the gas station where I got snacks after school, and truck loads of frat boys following me home. Jesus even the damn milk guy at the café calls me ’sexy’ and won’t leave me alone.” She sniffles again, voice tightening with anguish. “I’m tired, I’m so tired - I’m so fucking sick of all of it…of-of just being a thing, I’m tired of being looked at, and-” She tries to swallow back her sob, but it crests and stutters in her lungs, taking over her voice once again as she presses her face impossibly closer. 
It breaks his heart and stokes his rage, the helpless, hopeless weight of her bitter words. Here he is, over a century old, and still watching people fight the same battles; battles to be heard, to be seen, to be treated like humans. He’d seen it all his life, women like his mother, like Peggy, spines of steel and hearts made of diamonds, resisting a world that would grind them down and make them small. He wishes his shield were wider, stronger. He wishes he could protect them from this. 
“I can’t tell you it’s okay,” he murmurs. “Because it’s not. It’s not okay, I’m so sorry.” She squeezes his waist gratefully and nods her head a little. “But you…you don’t ever have to feel alone in this, okay?” He leans back a little, prompting her to lift her head, to meet her tear-bright eyes. “You’re not alone. I promise.” 
It’s not enough. It’s not over. But today, for now, it feels like something. 
 **********                                                                                             
Natasha pages Happy, who pulls the car around to the front of the building. She says nothing as 14 limps down the front steps, shoes in hand, one arm linked with Steve’s and wearing his jacket, the too-long sleeves covering her hands. Nat’s eyes slide up to his - their silent exchange lasts moments, microseconds; her lips pinch tightly and her elegant white fists curl tight. 
Happy holds the door, offering a hand as 14 drops inside, folding her legs and wrapping her torn skirt as tight as she can around the exposed length of her legs. Nat glances at the open door of the car and steps away, angling her back to the patient Happy. She juts her chin at Steve. 
“You need a hand, Rogers?” He knows the look in her eyes is mirrored in his own - the look of a boxer stepping in the ring, of a lion sighting prey, a shark scenting blood.
Steve shakes his head, a hand reaching up to loosen his tie. 
“No, it’s alright. You go on with 14.”
Happy peaks his head around. 
“You don’t want me to wait for you, Cap?” he frowns. “I can keep the car running.”
Steve glances over Nat’s shoulder at the town car, where 14 has curled up in the backseat, and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. 
“Nah. I need to have a word with Mr. Sinclair.”
  **********                                                                                        
The arrest doesn’t make the front page. Or any page of the papers, in fact. Robbie Sinclair wakes in a hospital bed, in SHIELD custody, and ready to make deals with anyone who will bargain - provided his security detail keeps him well away from the Avengers and their Captain. 
When the file crosses his desk, courtesy of Natasha, he notices the long list of names Sinclair has provided them with - powerful men, Wall Street and Capitol Hill’s finest, who found their positions one dirty handshake at a time. It would take some time to build a case against them all, find sufficient evidence for arrests, but SHIELD was up for the task. There’s a note in the back of the file, a small article someone has attached with a paperclip. 
‘Executive’s Secretaries Speak Out’ reads the headline, with the subtext ‘Sinclair accused of sexual harassment, assault’. It appears a few women who had crossed his path were tired of being silenced; they had banded together, sharing pain and courage, to finally see him brought to justice. And combined with the charges SHIELD was bringing against him, it was unlikely he’d step foot outside of a prison for the next couple of decades. 
It’s a start. 
A few days later, Steve rises before the sun, a creature of habit. He takes his run alone, listening to a podcast that Sam had recommended. By 5:30, he’s stretching at the bench in front of the tower, before making his way down the street to the coffee shop. 
She does a double take when she sees him, surprise and (he hopes) excitement creeping up in her smile. There’s only a couple of baristas in the store at this time - they haven’t hit their peak yet - and she’s wiping down the bar in front of the espresso machines by herself. 
“Morning, Cap,” she smiles. There are tired little circles under her eyes. She looks beautiful. “You want your usual?” 
“Hmmm,” he pretends to think, narrowing his eyes at the menu. “Actually…how about you surprise me.” 
She raises her brows, a little impressed. “You sure? Anything goes?”
“Anything - I promise I’ll try it.” 
“Alright,” she smirks, mischievous and much too eager, and she turns away from the espresso machines to the blenders behind her. 
Milk, syrup, ice - other ingredients he can’t see or identify, all thrown into the pitcher and blended. She leans against the counter as the machine whirs loudly, a cheeky smile dimpling her cheeks. Just as the machine stops, the bell above the door chimes, both of them turning to look. 
A small, wiry, white-haired man backs his way into the store, pulling a dolly stacked high with milk crates. He looks around, making sure he’s not backing into anyone, and catches sight of her behind the counter. Steve doesn’t like the look of his smile, or the way 14 ducks back down to her blender, her shoulders inching upwards.  
“Morning, sweetheart,” the man says, a bit too loud, rattling the crates on his dolly as he wheels around tables, towards the back of house. 
“Morning,” 14 replies coolly, not looking up from where she’s carefully lining Steve’s cup with mocha sauce. She doesn’t say anything more, keeping her head down as she pours out the drink and reaches for a canister of whipped cream. Steve’s eyes cut between them, his hands in the pockets of his shorts. 
The milk man hustles back through the store with an empty dolly, on his way to collect the next load of crates, and 14 sighs a little when the bell chimes on his way out. She’s just turning around to hand Steve his drink, when she notices that the café is empty - he must have slipped out as well. 
“Hey, pal,” Steve claps a hand on the man’s shoulder, consciously withholding his full force. “I was wondering - you usually deliver the milk here?”
“Yeah,” the man huffs, a little confused, and in a hurry to unload his crates. He squints, the rising sun in his eyes. “Why?” 
“Oh, I just wanted to talk to you for a second, that’s all,” Steve smiles. His hand doesn’t move from it’s place on the man’s shoulder. 
When he comes back inside, his towering, chocolate-swirled beverage is waiting at the end of the bar. 14 is waiting, too, arms crossed, one hip propped up against the counter. She tilts her head to one side. 
“Do I wanna know?” she asks. Steve shrugs. 
“Nothing to know,” he says, shuffling up to the bar to claim his drink and stare at it, incredulous and amused. “Now what on earth is this thing, a milkshake?” 
She rolls her eyes.
“It’s called a frappucino, old man,” she grins. “Drink up - you promised.”
154 notes · View notes
gra-sonas · 4 years
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THE PICTURES ARE FROM A FEBRUARY 2019 PHOTOSTHOOT BTW!!!
Actor Michael Vlamis stars as Michael Guerin in the CW sci-fi drama ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO created by Carina Adly Mackenzie.
Aside from acting, Vlamis is currently keeping himself busy writing his next movie, selling his merch, creating youtube content, while constantly breaking barriers and opening doors of opportunities in the entertainment industry.  
In this exclusive interview, Vlamis talked about Michael Guerin’s character evolution, the character’s bisexuality, his web series Making It, acting, the scripts he wrote, and what keeps him busy during quarantine. 
How are you holding up amidst the quarantine?
I’m doing surprisingly well. Don’t get me wrong, some days and weeks have been tougher than others, but I’m writing my next movie and have been taking a bunch of Zoom meetings, which keep me busy. I also dropped my latest merch collection and have another coming out in June, so the designing, marketing, and fulfillment has kept me occupied. I will say, I miss my family and normalcy, just like everyone, but I’m ready to get back to Chicago and hug the fam.
What’s the best part about playing Michael’s character?
He’s a wild card. I love that he’s the type of character who is unpredictable. It makes my work even more fun and allows me to be free while filming.
What are the challenges in playing Michael and what surprised you the most about him?
There are new challenges daily, but I feel very similar to Michael Guerin, so everything I do is less of a challenge and more of a discovery. Our showrunner, Carina Adly MacKenzie, says that of all the actors in the show, I’m the most different in real life than my character, which surprises me. The difference between me and Guerin is that he doesn’t care if he’s being a dick. Hell, it makes better TV. What surprises me is the vulnerability I’m able to display through a character who has such a tough exterior.
How would you describe the unfolding of Guerin’s storyline this season?
He’s figuring out who he is. His entire life, he’s questioned where he’s from, if he’s loved, if he has a purpose, etc. The kid needs answers and this is the season of answers for him.
How was it to play Michael’s bisexual story in relation to the story as well as to the fans of the show?
In regards to the story, I treated it as a passionate love affair. That’s it. I never thought about being bisexual or alien or anything because in my mind, love looks the same, no matter who you are or what your preference may be. As for the fans, it’s been an honor giving them a character to look up to. I never thought I’d be that guy, but then season 1 came out and I realized the Malex story line with Tyler Blackburn is giving people the courage to be who they are and welcome their truth. I’m unbelievably proud to be able to affect people through our show in a positive, meaningful way.
Let’s talk about your acting journey. How did it start for you? What inspired you to pursue the craft?
I was gifted a video camera in 3rd grade and made movies every chance I could until I got to high school, which is when grades, girls, and sports were the only things that mattered. I’d like to go back and tell that kid to keep making movies, but maybe I wouldn’t be who I am today if I thought a film career was a possibility back then. Long story short, after my 7th surgery from sports, I started acting my senior year of college, taught myself how to edit together a good acting reel, moved to LA, made up a fake name and email and started calling agents pitching a young actor by the name of “Michael Vlamis.” It was awesome. And it worked. I can’t imagine a life where I didn’t pursue this career. I come from a family of storytellers, so although none of them are in this industry, it’s in my blood.
Out of all the roles that you’ve played, which one resonated with you the most and why?
Depends on where I’m at in my life. Michael Guerin resonated with me because I was dealing with heartbreak and loss in early 2018 when I booked Roswell, which is what he’s been facing his entire life. I produced and starred in my first feature film recently, 5 Years Apart, which just landed distribution, and that role is extremely special to me. I play a character who, in a lot of ways, was more mature and less mature than me in different ways. It was fun growing as a character and a person through the long takes of discovery that our director, Joe Menconi gave us.
Tell us about your web series Making It. What inspired you to create and where did you get your inspirations from?
I made that series because I was talking to my co-creator, Michael Gabriel, back in 2014 and we were just ripping ourselves and the entire film industry. We were broke and desperate, like most filmmakers in LA, and our situation made us laugh. Plus, everyone at the time was making a web series to try to “make it,” so that’s what we did. But in a satirical way. As for inspiration, everything inspires me. I wish you could hear my laughing while I say that. Otherwise, I sound like some pretentious douche. But it’s the truth. I’m constantly looking for the story in a situation and making a joke of everything serious, which is great for filmmaking.
What are you looking forward to the most this year?
I’m looking forward to seeing the scripts I’ve written get purchased and produced. I have a TV show and a few movies floating around, which have been getting a lot of exposure since the script I wrote with my writing partner, Kyle Anderson, Blue Slide Park, made the 2019 Blacklist. For those that don’t know, that’s the list of the best unproduced scripts of the year voted on by studio executives. That script has opened up so many doors for us, so I’m excited to see where those go. One day, I want to have my own one stop shop with my friends where we can make anything we want and bypass any “gate keeper” in our way. We pretty much do that now, but I’m trying to do it at the highest level with the entire world watching, which gets me thinking about our little film, 5 Years apart. I cannot wait for that to come out this year!
If you were a book, what book would you be and why?
This is such a fun, but tough question! I have so many books I want to mention, but if I was the book, it’d probably be some kind of inspirational, self help book, ha! I love firing myself and others up. My dad always said, “why not you?” What he meant was that if they can do it, so can you. I love getting people to believe they can do the impossible. Cue douchey closing statement… I’m living my dream and you can too! Woooo!
~ ABookOf
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2020 Masterlist
Here’s a list of all the fics I’ve posted this year! (Listed by category, then chronologically:)
Link to my ao3 where you can read all of these: embarrassingresultofmyfreetime
~
Currents wips:
And They Were Quarantine Mates
An old disease has resurfaced on Earth- one which most humans recover from but is permanently lethal to Time Lords.
Because of this, the Doctor stays on Earth to make sure her humans make it through okay.
And because of the Doctor, the Master- against his better judgement- also chooses to stay.
Reluctant to leave the safety of the Doctor's Tardis, the Doctor and the Master find plenty of ways to pass the time but it can be difficult to enjoy each other's company with so many things left unsaid.
Good thing they have plenty of time in isolation to work it out.
Word Count: Currently 88,172
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Spyfall: Battle For Humanity
This is a little number I like to call: Roleswap AU with Dhawan!Doctor and Whittaker!Master
It's sort of a rewrite of Spyfall p2 but it's better.
Word Count: Currently 5,688 (will be about 12k when finished)
~~~
-
Main fics (completed):
Please Tell Me Why Do We Worry
Summary: After learning about the final loss of Gallifrey, the Doctor takes some time to grieve and finds herself with surprisingly mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.
To her surprise, a knock at her Tardis door soon reveals the Master not only alive, but in uncontrollable mental agony as he reveals that the Doctor's suffering has been amplifying his own emotions via their telepathic bond.
Note: (After so many kind and positive comments on this fic, I finally gained the confidence to start posting more! A huge thank you to so many people it means so, so much to me!)
Word Count: 5,068
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Second Chances
When Graham finds a teleportation cube offering an all-expenses-paid vacation, he, Ryan, and Yaz take up the offer and give the seemingly-distant Doctor some time to herself.
After the events of Skyfall 1&2, the trust between the trio and a certain timelord is shaken. However, when their vacation quickly becomes a nightmare, it's up to the Doctor to bring about peace on an upsettingly familiar planet.
Note: (A rewrite/fix it of S11 episode Orphan 55)
Word Count: 7,130
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All’s Fair In Love And War
Having escaped alive and alone, the Master dwells on his failure and uncertainty at what to do next.
Purely by accident, he runs into a version of the Doctor he's never met before and she gives him a much needed perspective on their relationship.
Word Count: 4,653
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Truth and Reconciliation
“I... I destroyed a lot of things, but not this... trove of secrets. This is what started it all.”
Missing Scene where the Master goes to Gallifrey and discovers the truth of the timeless child for the first time + alternate ending to The Timeless Children episode
Word Count: 7,563
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The Doctor Finally Gets Some Rest
(Ch2 update Missy pov)
The Doctor promised to guard Missy for 1000 years, but Missy doesn't mind returning the favor.
Word Count: 5,671
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I Wouldn’t Wish It On My Best Enemy
"Just deserts appeared to finally be served for the Doctor. All her running had come to an end, all the lives she's taken or caused had finally been assigned a numerical value, and all the morals she had once believed in seemed to crumble to dust right before her eyes.
A life sentence.
She had JUST BEEN TOLD she would never die, and the first thing the universe does is give her a life sentence.
What kind of cruel joke is that?"
Basically: The Doctor reflects on herself while in prison, the Master rescues the Doctor and actually helps her, and idk read the tags
Word Count: 4,629
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Brand New Reality
In an alternate timeline: The Master is killed in the Time War but the Doctor finds a way to salvage his oldest friend's mind by binding it to his Tardis and building him an android vessel as a way to interact with the physical world.
The Doctor also manages to save the Time Lords from their war- but he is still a renegade in their eyes. As punishment, the High Council uses the Doctor- and by extension the Master- as their personal diplomats/field agents.
The Master isn't too happy about being trapped on the Doctor's Tardis, the Doctor is fed up with being the equivalent of a dog on a leash to the Time Lords, so in a moment of anger and also pure luck- they break out from their world and end up on a parallel one with a very different version of their universe and very different versions of themselves.
(Shalka!Universe Doctor and Master meet their modern counterparts- the Thirteenth Doctor and Dhawan!Master)
Word Count: 10,148
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The Imposter(s) Among Us
The Doctor has been searching the universe for the Master, but it's only when she takes a break to help a damaged space vessel that she runs directly into him!
The Doctor has a hundred and one things to ask him, but there's no time for any of that now. The ship is barely functional and if the mysterious murderer doesn't get to the Doctor first, then the trigger-happy crewmates might throw her out the airlock before the killer gets a chance.
Word Count: 12,655
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My Dear, Doctor…
The Doctor investigates an anomaly to find that her previous self has stood up their oldest friend for the umpteenth time.
Confused as to why the Doctor can't recall ever receiving Missy's invitation in the first place, the Doctor goes searching for answers and ends up finding far more letters than just one…
Word Count: 6,657
~~~
-
Series:
And They Were Happy Au Parts 1-4:
Part 1: Dinner and a Show
All his lives, the Master had always believed that he and the Doctor could hold on for about the same amount of time. He always imagined that when they reached their last lives, they would both give all this up and spend their retirement years bickering and raising bees or whatever. The Master didn't particularly like bees, but he had always imagined that the Doctor did and as long as they were together, that was enough to satisfy him.
What he had discovered in the Matrix had proved his ideal endgame impossible.
The revelation that the Doctor was The Timeless Child meant that the Doctor would always live on. They would always evolve and survive no matter what happened. The Doctor would always race to people in need; and now, they would never have any reason to stop.
(AU where the reason the Master wanted the Doctor to kill them both in The Timeless Child is bc he's on his last life)
Word Count: 5,120
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Part 2: Dinner and a Show One-Offs
"The Doctor did her best to space out her visits with O. For every couple adventures she had with her 'fam', she would stop by his home once or so. Sometimes she let months slip by, because she knew that the longer she waited, the less of O's limited time she used up.
She felt guilty to calculate it, but if O was already in his mid-thirties and he lived a full human life...
Suffice it to say, she wanted it to last for as long as possible. She had never had a situation as stable nor as safe as she now had with O. After everything they had both been through to get to this point, she refused to jeopardize a single moment.
For all the pain the Master had caused her, O was well worth the wait."
(By popular demand, a continuation of 'Dinner and a Show')
Word Count: 10,926
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Part 3: Unjustifiable
O- having no recollection of his actions as 'The Master'- returns to being Earth's Horizon Watcher.
O is proud of his work and he cherishes the Doctor's frequent visits, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that she's been keeping more secrets about his past than he had theorized.
To make matters worse, the arrival of an advanced species of aliens on his doorstep brings with it a whole new plethora of problems. Something terrifying resurfaces when O hears they're searching for a Tardis and things go terribly wrong.
Word Count: 23,870
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Part 4: Found Family
The Master finally gets around to seeing the universe in a more peaceful way and runs into a young woman looking for her father.
Word Count: 3,663 (Will possibly be updated at a later date, but complete for now)
~~~
-
Oneshots Inspired by others (specific inspiration in the beginning notes of each):
All Alone In The Dark
While heading back to Earth, the Doctor hears someone calling for her help.
She tracks it back to the Master- injured yet alive- and finds him trapped in his own head, reliving his last confrontation with The Time Lord Council before the destruction of Gallifrey.
Word Count: 1,926
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You Again
The 10th Doctor and Missy each escape their last canon appearances believing that the other is dead for good.
So imagine their surprise when they run into each other at a party in the 1920's.
Word Count: 6,943
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Sick Day
The Master has everything set up for his latest evil scheme but when he tracks down the Doctor, he realizes his best enemy is in no condition to fight. So the Master does what any good nemesis does and takes care of him.
Desperate Times, Desperate Measures
Word Count: 2,807
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Prompt: "Right now, I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge!" "Can I pick?"
The Master’s Tardis had traced the call seven minutes in advance to this exact time and location. He pushed open his Tardis door to find himself in front of some no name bar with graffiti scrawled on the side, situated in front of an empty ravine. He was on Earth, and there was probably a similarly ramshackled city around him, but he didn’t so much as spare it a glance.
The Master’s steps were determined, his jaw clenched, and his hands shaking despite his signature device in hand.
He had been on the other side of the universe, licking his wounds like any old villain would when disappointed by their latest nemesis showdown. It all made his blood boil to have caved so soon. To come back and HELP the Doctor.
The Doctor still had O’s number and her call was scheduled to be made in exactly seven minutes. A hysterical, agonizing call that begged the Master to intervene. He wasn’t sure what was worse, hearing the Doctor in so much despair, or the disappointment that hearing her in such agony somehow didn’t lessen his own.
Word Count: 2,410
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The Beginning and The End
Prompt: First Doctor, Dhawan!Master, Gallifrey, and the dialogue: "I know my words mean close to nothing for you. But I do, in fact, love you very much."
Basically Theta (Academy Era Doctor) accidentally runs into the Master on a burning Gallifrey
Word Count: 4,499
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Kisses Like That
The Doctor's never understood why humans enjoy kissing so much- but a certain, somewhat familiar woman piques his interest.
(Missy goes back in time to give 10 a lil kiss)
Word Count: 1,885
Spyvember 2020
Collection of short fics I did inspired by Spyvember prompts (from Tumblr)
Word Count: 15,506 (6 separate chapters)
~~~
Thank you to everyone who has inspired me, commented on my work, read any of my writing, and overall has just supported me in any way this year!! Thank you for keeping me motivated and helping me improve as a writer!
My best wishes to you in the new year! <3
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oswildin · 4 years
Text
Bonded {Part One} ~ Dhawan!Master x Reader
Summary: You head out on another adventure with the Doctor and the fam, little did you know you would meet someone new.
Warnings: None
Song:
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You were currently in the outback. Ryan and Yaz were back home investigating a man called Daniel Barton. You’d just witnessed an MI6 agent be shot and killed, whilst trying to find out what creatures were trying to kill other agents. Multiple agents from around the world had been murdered by something inhuman.
You’d finally had a run in with them as it killed the two soldiers that were sent to protect you all. Sitting in O’s house, you were starting to get a headache forming. It was the same kind of headache you got on the TARDIS. You sat at a table as you felt the pain increase. You closed your eyes, rubbing your temples as you tried to ease the feeling. But nothing was working. You could hear voices around you, but they weren’t those of your friends, they were far away, whispering almost. The burning sensation in your head got worse, as you stood up from your seated position suddenly, startling everyone as you quickly made your way past them all and outside. The Doctor sent you a concerned glance, noticing how much worse your headaches had become. She was starting to suspect something was going on, something more serious than she thought to begin with.
Graham sent you a sympathetic look as you ran outside, as the Doctor went to follow, but he stopped her. He decided to go after you. He saw you like a grandchild, and felt the need to care for you.
“You alright, kiddo?” Graham asked, perching himself beside you as sat on the steps to the house, looking out into the night sky.
“Yeah just, these damn headaches.” You rubbed your temple as he looked at you with worried eyes.
“You ever spoken to anyone about them?” He asked. “And no offence to the Doc, but did you ever see a real doctor?” You laughed lightly at his words, shaking your head.
“No. Never really got them until I met her.” You answered as he scoffed slightly.
“Yeah I know that feeling.” He joked as you smiled at him. You both stayed quiet for a moment before he continued. “Whatever’s wrong, the Doc will figure it out. Eventually.” He added as you nodded to his words.
“Thanks Graham.” You told him sincerely as he patted your knee with his hand, before turning to see O stood with a glass of water in his hands. He sent you one last smile before heading back inside, leaving you alone with the new face.
“Hey... I brought you some water.” O said as he proceeded to sit where Graham had seconds ago. You took it gratefully, as you gave him a small thank you. Your hands almost brushed, as you felt a slight tug in your chest. You shrugged it off as you took a sip. You noticed you felt a strange sensation around the man. It was like you didn’t want to get too close in fear of what would happen, but also the need to be close to him, like you craved it. So when he was sat less than a few millimetres away from you, you felt electricity run through your veins.
“I often come out here to think.” He told you as you peered over at him, seeing him look out into the night sky. “It’s so peaceful. Almost too peaceful.” He said as you raised a brow.
“How can anything be too peaceful?” You inquired as he turned to look at you, a small smile on his lips.
“I guess in your shoes, you relish in peace.” He replied as you nodded in agreement. “Travelling with the Doctor... I can imagine it’s always hectic.”
“You got that right.” You laughed slightly, taking another sip of water. “Don’t think I ever get a moments peace.” You told him quietly as you looked down at your hands. Your body began to heat up. You didn’t know why, considering it was night time and there was a chill in the air. O watched you intently as he noted your slight change in demeanour. He could feel the heat radiating off your body.
“You can take my bed if you want.” He offered as he noticed your expression turned sleepy. He could see the exhaustion on your face.
“I can’t sleep.” You told him. “Not when all this is going on.” You yawned as he raised a brow, his arm brushing against your own as you felt a small shock of electricity. You furrowed your brows as you looked at him, seeing that he had noticed it too. You shook your head, ignoring it as you leant your head against the railing of the stairs.
“How long have you been feeling like this?” He asked you as you shrugged.
“I’m fine.” You told him. “Just get these headaches that’s all.” You stared ahead as you could feel a dull ache forming once more.
“What kind of headaches?” He inquired as you turned to see him looking at you in concern. You pursed your lips.
“I don’t know... it’s just... There. I can’t explain it. It’s like my mind is trying to fight against whatever is happening, but something else is fighting back.” You explained as he looked at you. You realised how silly it sounded. “Sorry, that sounded weird.” You laughed lightly as he shrugged.
“No, It doesn’t.” He told you. “But I do think you should rest. We have a busy day ahead of us.” He said as you hummed. “Human bodies aren’t designed to handle alien invasions without sleep.” He teased as you sighed, knowing he was right. He led you to his room as you thanked him, appreciating the gesture. “We’ll get you if anything changes. Promise.” He told you with a small nod as he left you alone. You sighed as you found yourself falling onto the bed, exhausted.
There was a knock on the door, as you began to awaken. You furrowed your brows to see the Doctor. She gave you a small smile as she entered.
“Hey... what time is it?” You asked as she approached the bed.
“Not sure.” She shrugged. “Don’t think you were asleep too long though.” She answered as you sat up, stretching your arms as you felt a bit better. “How you feeling? O told me you were struggling with your headaches.”
“It’s fine.” You waved it off. “Probably stress.” You joked as she sent you a concerned look.
“No... it’s more than that.” She told you. “You never had them before meeting me, right?” You nodded. “And since then, they’ve gotten worse?” You again nodded. “Then something is telling me they aren’t going to go away any time soon. In fact, they probably will continue to get worse.” She said quietly. “We need to figure this out. Because, whatever this is, it isn’t normal.” You stayed quiet. “I’ve seen this before... but it can’t be.” She muttered to herself. You looked at her confused as she quickly shrugged off her mumbling, telling you their next plan of action to take down Barton.
“Is this a bad time to mention I've never really done undercover work?”
O told the gang as they entered Barton’s mansion. You sent the man an amused glance.
“You said you worked for MI6.” Graham commented.
“As an analyst. In the office.” He told Graham as you smiled slightly.
“It’s alright. You get the hang of it eventually. Just pretend like you own the place. That’s what she does.” You nodded to the Doctor who ignored your comment.
“It's a party. We're guests. Blend in. And keep an eye out for Daniel Barton.” She told them as they split up. You went with O as you headed into the poker room.
You felt slightly better being out of O’s house. You didn’t know why it affected you so much. Let alone why it gave you the same feeling as when you were in the TARDIS. You looked around, not seeing Barton as you noticed the multiple tables set around the room.
“Fancy a game?” O asked as he nodded to one of the tables as you smirked at him.
“I hope you’re a good gambler.” You told him as he shrugged.
“I have my days.” He commented as you headed over to one of them, deciding to play. Truth be told you had no clue what you were doing. This was a whole different realm to you. You weren’t much of a gambler.
You rolled the dice, sending an unsure glance to O as he nodded in encouragement. You threw them, watching intensely as everyone around you cheered, even O as you looked surprised, turning to him.
“Did we win?” You asked, hope in your eyes as he smirked, shaking his head.
“Oh...” You said a bit defeated. “That reaction was a bit misleading.” You commented, glancing around at everyone.
“You know what they say - lucky at dice, unlucky in love.” O commented as he leant on the table, you stared at him with a raised brow.
“Well it’s a good thing I’m rubbish at dice then, isn’t it?” You joked as he smiled at you, you saw a glint of mischief in his eyes as you narrowed your own. “They don’t really say that do they?”
“No.” He said, hiding his smirk as you rolled your eyes at him.
“Come on, we should stop mucking about and try to find Barton.” You told him as you turned away from the table, hearing a loud ‘SNAP’ be yelled from across the room as you spotted the Doctor, looking proud of herself as everyone around her laughed. You shook your head, laughing lightly at her antics.
“For someone incredibly clever, she can be so stupid sometimes.” You commented as O raised a brow.
You and O searched the place, trying to look for Barton as you had no luck. You sighed in defeated, wondering where on Earth he could’ve been. Who didn’t parade around at their own party? Suddenly the Doctor appeared.
“You seen Barton? He just came back in.” She asked as you shook your head, Yaz, Ryan and Graham rejoining you.
“There!” Yaz exclaimed, pointing to the man as he got inside a car out front. You all began running after him as he managed to get away in the car. The Doctor wasn’t having it as she ran over to some bikes that were sat outside.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered as she hopped onto one. You all followed suit, as you quickly realised there weren’t enough for all of you. O stood looking rather perplexed as you ushered him onto the back of your bike. He clearly wasn’t a field agent as you smiled to yourself at his hesitance. As soon as he got on behind you, he wrapped his arms around your body as you felt a burning sensation where his arms where. He clearly felt it too as he quickly pulled away for a second. The others had already gone after Barton as you glanced back at him, before he ignored what had just happened and once again held onto you as you began to drive off.
The whole time all you could focus on was the warmth and electricity that flowed through your body at his touch. You didn’t know why. You didn’t understand any of it. It seemed to take him back as well as he stayed quiet, almost worried to hold you too tight incase he broke you.
Eventually you arrived at the hanger, seeing a plane begin to take off on the track. The Doctor instantly began to run after it as you all sighed to yourselves, running after her. A dull ache began to form once again in your head as you tried to fight through the pain. O noticed your suffering as he tried to help you increase speed, taking your hand as he pulled you along. But with him being not a very skilled runner, you both lagged behind.
“Come on!” The Doctor exclaimed as she got the door open, throwing herself up into the back of the plane as the other three joined her. They threw encouraging words your way as you finally reached the plane, O helping you up best as he could as the others pulled you up. He quickly followed suit.
“Sorry. I've never been good at sprinting.” O commented as he huffed, trying to catch his breath. You sat down on the floor, trying to also catch your breath as the pain in your head increased.
“Come on, Doctor. We're about to take off.” Ryan told her as she soniced the hatch door, closing it shut as they all entered the main cabin.
“What are we actually going to do?” Yaz inquired as the Doctor leant against the seats, catching her own breath.
“Sit tight. See where he's going.” She shrugged as she turned to O, seeing him sat in a seat next to you as you held your head in your hands. “Never been good at sprinting?” She asked, confused.
“I was the last one in every race at school.” O shrugged, sighing.
“No, no, no. I read your file. You were a champion sprinter.” She explained as everyone watched the interaction. O’s face turned dark, as his eyes became smaller, almost menacing.
“Mmm. Got me. Well done.” He told her as everyone looked confused. You peered over at him as you felt the burning in your skin once more.
“What's going on, Doc?” Graham asked as O got up from his position, standing in front of the Doctor as he watched her closely.
“I don't know.” She answered honestly as O raised his brows.
“You'd best take a look out of the window.” He told them as they all moved to peer out the window he gestured to, seeing his house flying in the sky next to them.
“How's your house out there?” Graham asked, looking confused as O waved him off, turning away from them all.
“Bit Wicked Witch of the West, but you get the gist. Maybe. Maybe not.” He turned back to them all as the Doctor’s face fell, fear entering her eyes. That look brought you no comfort whatsoever, you knew that look. You’d seen it before.
“No.” She shook her head, covering her mouth slightly.
“Oh, come on, Doctor, catch up.” He taunted, as you furrowed your brows at the man. “You can do it. Come on.”
“Oh!” She exclaimed, falling back slightly as the man in front of her grinned.
“That's...that's my name, and that is why I chose it. Oh, so satisfying.” He clapped his hands together. “Doctor, I did say look for the spymaster.” He paused, smirking. “Or should I say spy... Master?” He breathed out dramatically as everyone watched in fear. “Hi.” Suddenly you hissed in pain, the name burning through your skull as you leant down. Graham rushed to you as he noticed your discomfort.
“You can't be.” The Doctor breathed out, shaking her head.
“Oh, I can be. I very much am.” He walked towards the other Timelord.
“So what's going on, then? He's not really O?” Ryan asked as the man before them walked past the Doctor.
“I'm her best enemy. Call me Master.”
Again, the name triggered something inside of you as you groaned in pain. The Doctor looked over to see your feeble position. She began to panic as she tried to figure out her next move. Graham tried to comfort you as he looked back at the Doctor concerned.
“Doc?” He asked, looking for help as you felt tears in your eyes.
“Okay.. okay..” The Doctor mumbled. “But I met O. Years ago.” She told him as he manically laughed.
“I know!” He grinned wildly, enjoying every second.
“What have you done to (Y/N)?” She asked frantically, seeing the pain her friend was in. “What have you done...” She repeated as he sent a confused glance her way. He peered over at you as he saw your reaction, seeing you holding your head.
“I haven’t done anything.” He told her sincerely, as she got close to him, her eyes threatening.
“Don’t lie to me.” She told him sternly as he raised his brows.
“Why would I lie now...” He asked. “The truth is all coming out, Doctor.” He told her darkly, as she looked back as you. You looked up, tears soaked your cheeks as she worried for you.
“Doc, they’re burning up.” Graham told her as he almost felt the heat coming off your body.
“I’ve seen this before...” The Doctor told her friend sadly. “But it can’t be...” She muttered to herself. The Master rolled his eyes, annoyed he wasn’t getting all the attention. “Barton.” She remembered as she pushed past the man, rushing to the cockpit, as she entered, instead of seeing Barton, she was faced with a bomb. She sighed in defeat after trying to sonic it as she walked back out to the others.
“Now, do you really think that I would not make that sonic-proof, Doctor? Come on!” The Master exclaimed. “Deadlock sealed. And I made sure - no parachutes on board.” He said smugly as she shook her head.
“There must be a way! Ah. Okay, okay.” The Doctor felt her mind going wild. She had to save her friends, and find out what was wrong with you. The Master leant against one of the seats as he looked at her companions.
“Stick with me, cos I control... everything.” He smirked, before clicking his fingers. “Even these guys.” Two of the creatures appeared behind him as he grinned madly, the bomb finally detonating as it threw everyone back. You and Graham flew out of your seats as the plane began to crash, falling towards the ground.
“One last thing.” The Master said, going down to the Doctor as she laid helpless on the plane floor. “Something you should know in the seconds before you die.” He turned serious. “Everything that you think you know... is a lie.” He peered over at you as he narrowed his eyes, walking over to you as he gripped your arm tightly with his hand. Graham tried to stop him, but was holding on to a seat for dear life. “Got you, finally.” He smirked as you both teleported away, leaving the others on the crashing plane.
~
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