countdown to the time of the doctor

Casual reminder that there are ONLY SIX WEEKS until Peter Capaldi is gone and Jodie Whittaker is here


I don’t know how I’m going to handle this regeneration. There will probably be tears and maybe a scream or two once Jodie’s face appears. I apologize in advance to anyone in the same room as me when *The Scene* plays for my temporary loss of sanity.

Stony soulmate fic rec list

Here there is a list of soulmate fics that I have enjoyed that feature a Steve Rogers / Tony Stark relationship

You get the first words your soulmate ever tells you

  1. Slipping off the Page into Your Hands by Sineala
    Words: 68149

    Soulmates have their first words to each other written on their wrists. This should make it easy. For Steve and Tony, it is anything but. Steve’s problem is that the future he has awoken into is nothing he was ever expecting: he has a soulmate now. Who might be a robot. And if his soulmate is Iron Man, how can he be so attracted to Tony Stark? It should be impossible. Tony’s problem is that he is Iron Man, his soulmate is a man whom he in no way deserves, and he is going to fight everything in his heart and do his best to make sure Steve never , ever finds out the whole truth.
    This is one of my favourites, maybe because it also combines soulmates with secret identity, that is also a favourite trope of mine.
  2. Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended by Eudoxia
    Words: 4848

    Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn’t matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.
  3. Captain & Mr. Stark by wisia
    Words: 1110

    In a world where your soulmates’ first words are etched onto your skin, Tony despairs. Because his words are “Mr. S tark” and everyone calls him that.

You get the last words your soulmate ever tells you

  1. Do It Over by Sineala
    Words: 1999

    The last words your soulmate says to you are written on your skin, and you won’t know who they are until they die. The thing is, Steve and Tony die a lot.

You get the name/initials/signature of your soulmate

  1. Practicing your Autograph by by wisia
    Words: 652

    Tony sees Steve’s signature and panics, just a little.
  2. names that fade (and stay) by nightwalker
    Words: 3416

    Steve has always had two names, one on his right wrist and one on his left. It’s not unheard of, or even uncommon – soulmates die, after all, and sometimes people move on.
  3. Under His Skin by nightwalker
    Words: 4184

    Howard Stark never had a soulmate. Not one he would ever accept.
  4. Only A Name by fadedlullabyes
    Words: 6428

    Tony had grown up with Steve Roger’s name on his wrist. He knew what it meant and as he grew older, resentment set in because there was no way his soul mate was still alive. At sixteen he realizes that he can’t just deal with it anymore and so he builds a laser to remove the name for him.
  5. train wreck on the way to nowhere by SailorChibi
    Words: 10496

    Pepper closes her eyes briefly. “Your sig, Tony. Have you looked at it in the past couple of days?”

You are colorblind till you met your soulmate

  1. Home by america_chavez
    Words: 4446

    Tony then promised himself he would find his soulmate, even if it took him 70 years. He didn’t want to turn out like Howard, unhappy and bitter for the rest of his life. He would find the one meant to be with him. He would find home.
  2. Viridian, Azure, Zaffre by nagapdragon
    Words: 1928

    Colors are reserved for those who meet their soulmates. Tony Stark’s seen them since the minute they found Steve Rogers in the ice. As for Steve, he’s seen in color since he woke up, but doesn’t know who triggered it, and Tony isn’t sharing.

You get a symbol/physical attribute that matches your soulmate / reacts to you finding your soulmate

  1. Winds (Or Wings) of Change by Mossyrock
    Words: 3333

    Legend had it that everyone’s wings were the true outward expression of their soul. It followed that a person’s wings would change colour once they met their soul mate, since their soul was no longer just their own, but one half of an unbreakable set.
    Tony doesn’t believe the legends. Until his wings begin to change and he freaks out, because he’s Tony.
  2. To Strike A Match by 51stCenturyFox
    Words: 5191

    The marks that appeared on nearly every human one day weren’t very obvious – a pattern resembling the whorl of a fingerprint and almost as unique, on the inner wrist, tinted the color of coal-black ink. Almost as unique, because everyone was supposed to have a match somewhere on earth, and when the match was found, with a solid press of bared wrist to wrist, mark to mark, the pattern disappeared.
  3. Still waiting by Lookawaynothingtoseehere
    Words: 7479

    Everyone has a soulmate, right?
  4. Hiraeth by sabrecmc
    Words: 8389

    “Do you believe the universe fights for souls to be together?” Tony asked, trying to keep his voice steady and tell himself the answer wasn’t everything.
  5. I Hear the Winter’s Leaveby thistlethorns Words: 2329

    The thing is, Tony genuinely didn’t know he had a soulmate.
  6. Smaller Without You by 27dragons
    Words: 9105

    The doctor pulled out the teacher’s chair and sat across from Steve, his hands folded and his face solemn and kindly. “It happens once in a while,” he said. His voice was soft and gentle, and irrationally, it made Steve angry. Such ugly news ought to be delivered in a more fitting tone. “The most likely cause is that your intended mate died before you were born or shortly after they were born, before the bond had time to fully form. It’s called a Type C or a Type–”
    Steve wasn’t interested in the terminology. “Is that why I’m… like this?” He gestured down at his frail, sickly body.
    “Probably,” the doctor said. “There are some further tests we can give you, down at the hospital, to determine–”
    “Why bother?” Steve growled, slumping back in his chair and crossing his arms. “My mate is dead and no one else is going to want me, not like this.” Tears stung his eyes and he blinked them back furiously.
    “It’s also possible, though less likely, that you’re a Type A – firstborn of the pairing – but that your mate has simply not yet been born,” the doctor said.
  7. Amor Fati by citsiurtlanu
    Words: 15712

    Tony Stark has always known what the words on his wrist are supposed to lead to. What he’s never known is who the words are for. 616 soulmate AU.

Countdown till you met your soulmate

  1. True Love, Deconstructed by miss_whimsy
    Words: 3422

    Howard Stark revolutionized romance by inventing a timer that would count down to the moment you met your soul mate.
    Tony Stark’s timer has never shown a number and after forty years he’s given up one finding a soul mate.
    Enter Captain America.
  2. Time and Time Again by Raikishi
    Words: 2585

    Sometimes figuring out what’s worth fighting for takes time

Psychich link with your soulmate

  1. Stand Back, I’m Going To Try Science by Good_News_Everyone
    Words: 2121

    Soulmates are a rare and cherished thing, a simple touch of hands bringing love that lasts forever. By all the rules of romance, they’re meant to wait for each other and to trust in the vagaries of fate to bring them together.
    Tony’s never been good at waiting, and when he has science on his side, who needs fate?


  1. age after age; forever by theappleppielifestyle
    Words: 2137

    Steve and Tony are born for the first time as a Prince and his Knight.
    The last time they are born, they’re Iron Man and Captain America.


  1. You’re Not Stubborn (Just Impossible) by Wordsplat
    Words: 95156

    Steve’s an alpha, Tony’s an omega. Biology should take care of the rest, right? Except, Tony’s not anything like TV taught Steve omegas were–or like anyone else Steve’s ever met, actually–and Steve should really learn to just keep his mouth shut about that. Also, it doesn’t help that Tony’s not too keen on the idea of alphas. Or Steve. Yeah, this bonding thing looked a whole lot easier on TV.


  1. The Winged Soul by inukagome15
    Words: 12502

    It wasn’t until he was three that he realized he was different and no one else could see the wings.
Novaturient: Part One (Bucky Barnes)

(adj.) desiring or seeking powerful change in one’s life, behavior, or situation

Authors Note: Hi! So this is the first part of my newest series, the soulmate series. It’s the first story I’m posting about Bucky and Marvel, actually. I haven’t been writing a lot recently, so please, if there is any mistakes, private message me to tell me. Also, please send feedback and tell me what you like about it/or what you don’t like. And tell me what you hope to see, I always love suggestions. LASTLY, if you want to be tagged in future parts, just shoot me a message(please off anon) and I will add you to my list☺️☺️

Warnings: angst, swearing, assault/violence, attempted sexual assault, terrible writing lmao it’s just the beginning it will get better

Word Count: 3379

Originally posted by sassyelf-mage

3650: 19: 34: 14

“Her condition is very unique.” Dr. Garrison spoke in a quiet voice,“It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen or heard of.”

“That’s the problem, Dr.Garrison. She..she isn’t normal, and I need her to be. I need you to fix it.” Her father murmured.

(Y/N) shook her head at the whispered conversation in the other room. She hated this. The crippling anxiety and shame flooding over her had now become the norm. She wasn’t broken, was she?

“Please, Doctor. Anything to fix her.” Her mother begged,“I have all the money you could want. I don’t even care if it’s some untested experiment, I’ll sign the papers. As long as in end, I don’t have a lunatic for a daughter.”

It was silent for a moment before Dr. Garrison replied,“Mrs. (Y/L/N), I’m afraid there isn’t any treatments like you speak of. I can keep seeing her if you like, it may help her get a grip on reality. But as for, ‘fixing her’, there isn’t an immediate fix.”

“I can’t have a freak for a daughter.” Her father murmured, something that only he was supposed to hear, but (Y/N) heard everything.

She was only 15, what could he possibly want to do with her? Abandon her? The thought made (Y/N) cringe. They couldn’t do that, they wouldn’t. She was their child…

(Y/N) traced the edges of the timer on her left wrist, watching the seconds count down. It was only 3650 days till she would meet the one person who would probably ever love a freak like her. That timer, that hope, that person was the only thing that gave her a sense of hope.

2555: 5 : 45 : 15

Three years of therapy did nothing, but leave (Y/N) neglected and alone. Her father refused to let her out in public as “the voices” got worse. She couldn’t control it, and she knew she wasn’t making it up. She knew the voices. It was her father in the kitchen, or her brother in the game room. It was real. She wasn’t crazy.

The worst part of the isolation was when her father’s movie premieres came. Her whole family would get all dressed up, and one time when she was 16, she had gotten all dolled up for one of his premieres. Only to be ridiculed and screamed at for even thinking that they could be seen out with a girl who was clearly going crazy.

Today wasn’t much of difference in the house, but (Y/N) had recently graduated and her parents just…stopped caring completely. She guessed because she was an adult, they no longer had to care.

“I’m leaving.” She murmured when she got to the end of the grand stairwell of the luxury mansion.

She knew they didn’t care, no emotions were shown. There was this weird thing about her, she could just sense the mood of the room. She thought maybe her mother would feel at least a little upset, but nothing but relief filled the room.

“But you clearly don’t care. You’ve actually been waiting for this since I was 8, so I guess we can just call this an earlier Christmas present from me.” She told them, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

Her father stood up abruptly,“Insuggest you speak with respect, young lady.” He snapped, but she just shook her head.

“Oh yeah? Why should I give respect to a man I call a stranger? Because you’re some super star and everyone loves you?” She snarled,“Here’s the thing, father. I know you, and I can tell you right now, you are not what people like. Everything about you, aura screams cold, bitter, and distant. You are good like everyone thinks you are.”

“Get. Out.” He growled through gritted teeth, and that’s exactly what she did.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea, but it was best for her. She didn’t need to be in a house where she would be treated like a mental patient. No, she wanted to be out in the world and it didn’t matter where she was going because her destination was going to be the same no matter what. And that the arms of the person her timer was counting down to. Only 2555 days left. She could make it that long.

2554: 23: 58 : 12

2:02 A.M., (Y/N) walked the streets of New York City alone and in the cold of the morning. Her bag seemed to be a thousand pound by the way her shoulder now had a uncomfortable ache spreading through her.

She wandered the sidewalks that were lit up by different bars and neon lights. She just needed to find a motel, which was hard in the city. But she knew that there should be one in a few more miles.

Everything was fine until the raspy mutters filled her mind clearly.

“What about her?” The raspy one questioned.

“Oh, now that’s a good one. Pretty too.” The deep one replied,“Bet she has ton of money on her.”

(Y/N) gulped and clung to her back, eyes darting around the dark for the men these voices belonged to.

It was when she got closer to the dark alley when she was hit with a feeling of hormones and fogginess around her. That’s when she knew exactly what was about to happen.

She quickly turned out, facing two men who were twice her size. One of the men was a bulky guy, wearing just a stained white tank top and jeans. The other was a cleaner man, dressed in a suit with disheveled hair and a 5-o clock shadow. The bulky man pushed her down, making her stumble and crash into the concrete.

She flinched at the scrap that formed on her arm, kicking her legs at the guy trying to pin her down.

(Y/N) was overcome with fear and panic, glancing around to find anything that could help.

The clean man just snickered,“Oh sweetheart, you aren’t gonna find anything, you can’t even see, now can you?”

She furrowed her eyebrows, not sure what he meant. It was the dark of the night, but she could zero in on anything she wanted./!3 never had trouble adjusting to the dark.

She grasped on to one of the pieces of wood near the dumpster they had her by and swung it into the guy.

“Don’t touch me.” She stated in trembling voice.

“Oh where’s the fun in that?” The men laughed, and it triggered this deep rage inside her. She was more than tired of being pushed around, and as the man in the suit grabbed her wrists to keep her front fighting, he screamed in agony.

She wanted him to feel pain, wanted him to feel hopeless and panic like he had made her feel.

The man’s knee hit the pavement as his shouts echoed. First, went his sight, and then suddenly he was trembling with his hands covering his ears.

“Make it stop!” He shrieked, falling into a fetal position. It was enough to get the other guy to run in fear when the man in the suit stopped moving. His hands fell from his ears, only to reveal the blood coming out of them.

(Y/N) stood there in shock without a clue what just happened, but she knew one thing.

She did this.

1095: 15 : 28 :11

(Y/N) stared at the the red numbers on her wrist. It wasn’t an easy decision, but then again neither was the decision that got her here.

She remembered it vaguely. The night Black Widow broke into her apartment to tell her that she knew about the incident on the street.

(Y/N) had tried to put it all behind her, despite the image of the bloody ears and how her thoughts effected him in such a way.

Natasha Romanoff had come to recruit her that day. She hadn’t understood why at the time because she was just a psychology major who hear voices and could see at night. Oh, and make people have some weird deaths. But that was all.

Apparently, Shield had taken an interest in her when she was 15 when their agent, Josh Garrison filed a request to get her looked into. A possible mutant.

Natasha had gone into such detail about what they had observed her “powers” to be. It was that moment she made her decision. If they could understand what was happening, then they could help her understand.

That was two years ago. Now, she had graduated from Shield Academy’s Operations unit, and was starting to gain the control over her powers.

It was based around the senses. She could feel people’s emotions, and eventually, they thinks she could even manipulate them. All her senses were enhanced, explaining why she had all those voices in her head. She as starting to control that one really well. There was one however, she didn’t know very well. Which was the sensory manipulation, what she did to that man. How she changed what he could hear, see, and feel. She had only done it once, and she never wanted to do it again.

(Y/N) used these powers now to earn her new status as a field agents in Shield. She was new to it all, but it was official now as she had her first mission starting soon. There was just one thing she had to do.

The timer. It was a distraction to any agent, but Shield didn’t require you to have it removed. Luckily, Modern Technology had developed a surgery that would keep the timer intact and working.

The timer is powered by a person’s heart beat, so when it is removed, these doctors create a bracelet out of the time that takes a person’s heartbeat. When a person takes off the timer, the countdown pauses. It makes it to where your time is extended.

In theory, your soulmates timer has the actual time you will meet while yours is shorter because of the pauses.

“I must warn you, Ms. (Y/L/N), there have been instances where people have met their soulmates while the timer was off. But, when you put the timer back on, it will start counting down to the moment you see them again.” The Doctor explained while putting his surgically gloves on.“It will not keep you from meeting your soulmate, if that’s what worries you.”

She just shook her head,“Oh no, it’s not that. It’s just…"She watched the little numbers ticking down,“It’s always been something to remind me that I had someone out there that wasn’t against me, I guess. It’s helped me through some really tough times. It’s just hard to..know I won’t have it anymore.”

The Doctor nodded,“Well, as soon as you put the bracelet on, it will be right there. I swear. Now, if you can, please remain still. It will hurt a lot, but I’m afraid I cannot put you under or we might risk the timer malfunctioning.”

It was two hours until the wound from the timer being removed was stitched up and she had the bracelet around her wrist, counting down.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Natasha smirked as (Y/N) came out.“C'mon, the jet is waiting for us. We got bitches to take down.”

And that was the beginning of (Y/N) career as Shield Agent.

00: 8 : 56 : 12

That was the time she had left when she had to take the timer off last time. It was six months ago that she was called and assigned to a secret operation to take down one of the remaining Hydra agents. She had been so distraught when she was got the phone call, but she knew better than to argue.

Let fate do it’s job, Natasha reminded her constantly.

Six months. She only had 8 hours left, and she was sent on a six month mission in Bulgaria.

But it was over now, and she wanted nothing more to put on that timer and wait for 8 hours, 56 minutes and 12 seconds to meet her soulmate.

As she entered the Avengers Headquarters, she is hit with a variety of emotions. Upstairs she can sense the peacefulness of sleep that her team feel. She was technically back early from her mission, so no wonder no one stayed up.

The other emotion was an unfamiliar one. She had known her team for so long that she could figure out who was feeling was, but this emotion was new. It was anger, shame, and panic all in one.

She stopped just at the door, zeroing in on the building and seeking out any sounds she could hear. Aside from the sleep talking from Sam and the snores from Steve, the only thing she could hear were grunts and huffs from one of the rooms on the top floor.

(Y/N) stealthily crept upstairs all the way to the top floor. She was good at being quiet, and if anything, she could manipulate it to where the unknown person couldn’t hear.

She furrowed her brow as she observed all the lights were off, glancing around in the dark as she approached the door of the sparring room.

The man had three knives as he turned towards to face her, and she couldn’t help but act on impulse when he lifted his left hand.

She didn’t even realize what she was doing when she had grasped his wrist and flipped until he was laying on the floor. She had grabbed the knives and held on to this guy’s throat while she held down the..metal arm?

“What the fuck?” The guy snarled, his long locks in his face as he tried to comprehend what just happened.

“Who are you? And what do you want?” (Y/N) snapped.

“I could ask you the same thing. How the hell did you even get in here?” He retorted,“I didn’t hear anyone come in, so how the fuck did you do it?”

“You are not the one to be asking questions, intruder.” She informed him.

“I live here!”

“No, you don’t! I would know if you lived here cause I fucking live here!” She exclaimed, pressing the knife under his chin.

“I’ve been here for 4 months and never once have seen you, so clearly you don’t.” He commented,“Let. Me. Up.”

“That’s because I have been on a mission, because that’s my job, you dumbass. Now, who the hell are you?”

“You really don’t know who I am?” He shot back.

“You’d think my look of confused and the knife to your throat would have answered that for you.”

“I’m James Barnes, now get out off of me before I throw you across the room, little girl.”

“Fuck off.”

She didn’t even register what happened until she was half across the room, wincing from the pain of being thrown and crashing into the floor.

“I suggest you fuck off.” He snapped,“Now, if you don’t mind I would like to continue training with out being bothered.”

(Y/N) stared at him before picking herself up off the ground and marching off to Natasha’s room. She practically pulling the redhead out of bed and into her room so she could unpack.

“Who the fuck is this Barnes guy?” She asked without even greeting her.

“Hi, I’m fine. And I missed you too.” Natasha replied sarcastically.

She just rolled her eyes,“Seriously, I come home and there is this…guy with metal arm throwing fucking knives at 2 AM in the morning.”

Natasha yawned,“He’s Steve’s best friend from the war. Winter Soldier, and all.”

That’s when it clicked.“Winter Soldier. Shit, that the guy the Hydra agent was talking about before I took him down.” She mumbled, sitting on the bed.“That was him?”

Natasha nodded,“Yeah. Been through a lot too. You should probably give him time to adjust to you, be nice in all. He’s not very open, and he doesn’t really like people prying into his life. But I think you guys will understand each other a lot.”

“Yeah…I don’t know about that.” She whispered,“Seeing as I just attacked him..”

Natasha gave her a look of “why the fuck would you do that”. (Y/N) just smiled innocently.

“You know what?” Natasha said,“We’ll deal with this in the morning, okay? I’m too tired to deal with it now.” She got up from the bed and headed for the door.

“Hey, Nat?” (Y/N) called out before she was out the door.


“I missed you too.”

Natasha smiled at her,“Get some sleep, and put your timer back on. Eight hours, remember?”

(Y/N) broke out in a grin as Natasha left, and she immediately went to get the bracelet out of her bedside drawer.

She slipped it on, and clicked the back so it would start to take her heart beat.

Once she was settled in bed, she glanced at the timer. 00: 08 : 50 : 34 .

She was gonna find him tomorrow, and nothing could ruin that.

00: 00 : 49 : 01

The sun filled the room, but the numbers on the timer filled (Y/N) with excitement. She had never gotten out of bed so fast, and headed to the shower.

The last thing she wanted was to look like a complete and utter disaster when she met her perfect match.

So, she cleaned herself and dressed in the cutest but casual thing she could wear. It was black skinny jeans, combat boots, and a red unbutton flannel with a tank top under it. She let her hair down into his natural look, and she didn’t touch her makeup.

She took a deep breath and did want she always did in the morning, which was listen in to the conversation in the entertainment room.

“Buck, I think you need to calm down. She was still running of the adrenaline of her mission, and she saw you as a threat-”

“But I’m not a threat, Steve!” Bucky insisted.

“Be quiet!” Natasha whispered-yelled,“If she hears us making noise, she might try to listen in and the last thing you want is for her to pissed at you, Bucky.”

“I don’t care how she feeling about me. I don’t like her, Natasha. She’s rude, impulsive, and she seems like a control freak.”

She stopped listening after that, glancing down at the timer reading 00: 00: 07: 59. It made her smile, filling her with the same hope it always did.

She ventured outside her room, finding her way to the kitchen to make herself a bowel of cereal. (Y/N) finished up her ridiculously full bowel of cereal and went to go into one of the other rooms to sit on the couch.

But when she turned the corner, she collided with someone taller than her. They sent her cereal and milk went flying, seeping into their clothes. The aura wasn’t not a positive one. She was invaded with a sense of anger and annoyance.

To make matters worse, she looked up to meet those icy blue eyes of Bucky Barnes and suddenly the clock hit zero and this little happy beep went off.

The whole room went silent and the sound seemed to echo off the walls as Bucky huffed out in annoyance. It wasn’t until then that (Y/N) had realized how attractive Bucky was, with his bulging biceps and pretty eyes. He was really fucking hot, especially when he was angry but that’s not the point. He also happened to hate (Y/N) as of right now.

She was also confused. She only heard one beep, her eyes darting to his left arm and suddenly she remembered the stories. Bucky Barnes…fallen off the train and his arm had been completely ripped from him. She never realized that it was his left. The metal arm. He didn’t have a timer. He had no idea.

“What the hell is that sound?” Bucky questioned with his brows furrowed and his lip pulled into a tight, frustrated frown.

Lucky Thirteen

“Dean! Sam! Come ooooooon!”

“What is she going on about now?” grumbles Dean, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looks at the clock, then groans. “Dammit Charlie, it’s not even noon! On a Sunday!” He pulls the sheet back over his head.

Footsteps pounding on the stairs and then a fist banging on the door let him know that his little sister isn’t giving up easily. “Come on, Dean!”  Her footsteps fade a bit as she stomps down the hallway to Sam’s room, then bangs on his door and yells again, “You too, Sam! Get downstairs! Federer won! It’s almost time!”

Dean is wondering what language his little sister is speaking when his door opens and her freckled face peeks through the opening. Before she can speak he growls, “Twelve year olds should be banished from existence, Charlie.”

She giggles. “You can’t get me down, big brother. It’s almost time! Come on!” Before he can ask what on earth she’s talking about she bounces from the room and down the stairs.

He’s about to settle back into his bed when his phone chirps. A text from Cas.

Did Charlie wake you up yet?

He quickly responds.

How did you know?


Wimbledon finished earlier than expected. The announcement of the thirteenth Doctor is imminent.

Dean can’t help but laugh. That’s what I get for having a nerd kid sister. He grins. And a nerd boyfriend. He sends:

Come over? You can help keep Charlie calm while she waits. Or I can keep both of you calm. ;)


Give me ten minutes.–

Thirteen minutes later the doorbell rings. Dean pushes himself away from the table and his just finished bowl of cereal. Sam look at him quizzically. “Cas,” Dean says. “He’s as crazy as Charlie. They can nerd out together.”

Sam nods dismissively. “I’ve never been able to figure out why the two of you are such good friends.” Sam says. “You’re such a jock. He’s such a…well, a nerd, like you said. He’s really much more like Charlie than like you.”

Dean is thankful he’s on his way out of the room so Sam can’t see his blush. He still hasn’t told Sam that he and Cas have been more than friends for about six months now. Sam is usually too observant for comfort, but he’s been wrapped up in his own stuff–AP classes, playing the lead in Macbeth, and now a summer class at the local junior college–and Dean doesn’t know if he’s grateful or tired of keeping secrets.

His confusion about Sam disappears when he sees the blue eyed boy smiling at him on his front porch. “Dean,” Cas says. Dean smiles and chances a kiss. Cas pulls away after only a moment, and Dean is puzzled, then laughs as realization hits. “You’re anxious to find out about the new Doctor, aren’t you.” It’s not a question.

Cas smiles. “Busted. But you can kiss me later, I promise.”

Dean grins. “I’ll hold you to that…”

In the family room Sam sits at the coffee table surrounded by textbooks. “Sam. Live a little. It’s Sunday,” says Dean.

Sam grunts. “Research. Ten page paper. Due Friday.”

“Ouch,” says Cas. “Didn’t you think of taking a break over the summer?”

“I’m trying to graduate early,” Sam says absently, completely focused on his book.

“Yeah, that’ll be great,” grumbles Dean. “Little brother graduating the same time as me…”

“Um, helloooooo,” interjects Charlie, hands on her hips. “I think we’re missing the big picture here. Biggest announcement of the year? New Doctor? Lucky thirteen?”

Dean reaches out to ruffle her already wild red hair, but she ducks away from his hand. “What are we all doing here anyway? Are we going to gather around your laptop and watch you click on ‘refresh’? It’s not like we can tune in to BBC One.”

Charlie makes a very unladylike noise. “Please. Piece of cake. Or,” she grins, looking at Dean, “maybe a piece of pie.” She attaches a few cables from her laptop to the tv, tap-tap-taps at the keyboard for about ten seconds, then shouts, “Yahtzee!” Sure enough, English accents are suddenly coming through the tv speakers, and Roger Federer’s smiling face fills the screen.

Dean looks at Charlie, eyes wide. “You are the scariest twelve year old I’ve ever seen.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she quips.

Cas, Dean, and Charlie settle onto the couch, but Charlie only sits for a few seconds before she jumps up and starts to pace. She nibbles on a thumbnail, tugs at her hair, and bounces on the balls of her feet, all while striding back and forth across the room. She looks at Cas, sitting calmly, and screeches, “How can you just sit there?!”

Cas grins and his eyes glint with mischief. “I was just like you when they announced Capaldi four years ago. When fourteen comes along someone will be asking you how you can be so calm.”

“I doubt that,” she grumbles. “And why does Capaldi have to go anyway? I love his gruff Scottish accent and his ‘attack eyebrows’!”

“He doesn’t do hugs, he says. Except when he does,” adds Sam.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t speak geek?” Dean asks.

Doctor Who is all about change,” Cas says, pointedly ignoring Dean and answering Charlie instead. “The companions change, the Doctor regenerates, even the TARDIS gets redecorated. But the Doctor’s heart and hope endure. He is always a madman in a box, and he always saves the day.”

Charlie freezes, mouth agape, then flings herself at Cas, wiping away tears. “Thank you, Castiel,” she blubbers into his shoulder. Dean meets Cas’s eyes over the top of Charlie’s head. “Thank you,” he mouths. Cas smiles.

Sam clears his throat. “I hate to break up this little, uh, whatever this is, but I think something is happening,” he says.

Charlie immediately focuses all her attention on the scene unfolding on the tv, lush and green. A hooded figure walking through the woods. A hand. A key. The sound of the TARDIS. The hood is pushed back…

Charlie screams.

“A girl! A girl! The Doctor is A GIRL!!!!” She leaps and dances through the room, high-fives Cas then pumps her fist in the air then climbs onto the coffee table–unmindful of Sam’s schoolwork–just to turn and dive at Dean, tackling him in a tangle of arms and legs and red hair. He yelps and she giggles and jumps up to run and dance some more. “The Doctor is a GIRL!” she shouts again. She runs back to Dean, kisses him on the cheek, and says, “Finally!

“So you’re happy, then?” asks Dean with a straight face.

Charlie fake punches him in the shoulder. “Duh. Twelve dudes. Well, thirteen, really, with the War Doctor. Over fifty years. It’s about time!”

“I think this is going to be great,” says Cas with a smile.

“Ugh, I can’t believe we have to wait until Christmas to actually see her in action! That’s over six months!” moans Charlie.

Dean stands up. “That’s our cue, Cas. Let’s get out of here before she ropes us into making a countdown calendar.”

As they climb the stairs they hear Charlie yell, “You know you can’t get out of watching it with me, big brother!”

Dean laughs. He knows. Charlie always gets what she wants.

“It’s nice to be alone,” Cas says softly, twining his fingers with Dean’s.

Dean kisses him softly. “Yeah,” he says.

They sit on the floor against Dean’s bed, stretching their legs into the long rectangle of sunlight splashed across the floor.

“Are you ever going to tell Sam about us?”

Dean groans. He wants to talk about this now?

“It’s not–I’m not ashamed or anything, you know that. I mean, Charlie knows. Mom and Dad know. Sam’s just…he gives me a hard time about everything. And now he’s taking all these extra classes, so we’re both going to be seniors in the fall…” Dean trails off, not really sure where he was going with the thought anyway. He just knows that he wants Sammy to be okay with this.

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand. “I know. I mean, I understand. It’ll work itself out eventually. I just don’t like sneaking around when I’m here, you know?”

Dean nods.

“Oh, Michael says hi, by the way. He called last night. He asked if you’re starting on the team this fall; he’s going to be in town for a few weeks and wants to come see you play.”

Dean grins. He plays forward on their school’s soccer team. “Hell yeah I’m starting. I’ve been practically killing myself all summer to get ready for the season.

Cas runs a hand up Dean’s arm. “Mmm. I can see that,” he practically purrs.

Dean groans and pulls Cas onto his lap. He falls into those blue eyes as their lips crush together, both of them hungry for the other.

Cas’s fingers are twisted in Dean’s hair when the door opens and they hear, “Can you two do something with Charlie? She’s bouncing around like a pinball, and I re–” Sam comes to sudden stop, mouth hanging open, when he sees the two boys attached at the lips.

“Oh,” says Sam, after an awkward pause. “Well. That explains a lot. You two make a lot more sense as boyfriends. This been going on long?”

Dean is too relieved by Sam’s easy acceptance to answer. Cas says, “A little over six months. We’re sorry we kept it from you. You had so much going on, with school and the play and all, we didn’t want to cause you any distress.”

Sam snorts. “You really think this,” he gestures at them, “is distressing? You should see Charlie right now. I’m concerned for my safety for the next six months. And for my school work. Seriously. Do you think maybe you two could take her out for ice cream or something? Or, I don’t know, take her to the park and make her run outside? I’m never going to get my paper written at this rate.”

“She’s not a puppy, Sammy,” says Dean, laughing.

“Don’t call me Sammy,” says Sam automatically.

“I’m always going to call you Sammy,” says Dean.

“I know,” sighs Sam.

Dean pulls Sam into a tight hug. “Thanks, Sammy…”

When they’re done, Cas puts his arm around Dean. “We’ll be down in a minute, Sam. Tell Charlie we’ll take her to the mall to see if we can find her a sonic screwdriver.”

Sam grins as he turns to walk down the stairs. “Are you trying to become her favorite brother?” he calls over his shoulder, laughing.

When Sam is gone Cas turns to Dean. “Feel better?”

Dean nods. “I guess we should thank Charlie. And maybe the Doctor too.” He smiles, then adds, “I guess thirteen really is lucky after all.”

Cas presses a kiss to Dean’s lips. He can’t argue with that.

This is kind of a gift for @starsinursa, who posted this a few days ago. It sort of got mixed up with a high school au I had in my head, I hope you don’t mind!

Confess (An Adlock Fanfiction/Ficlet)

(Yay! Thanks so much for everyone who sent in their prompts to help me relieve my stress. Decided to go with @seaductress‘ prompt first, which is “Sherlock is forced to admit his love to Irene under dire circumstances” because the idea popped to my head immediately. It won’t be as vocal as the ‘I love you’ scene with Molly, but I still hope you like how I put it. Enjoy, loves!)

Originally posted by holmesdaily

How can someone feel so numb yet devastatingly in pain at the same time?

Sherlock was aware that what he was feeling made no sense. His fingers were shaking from when he destroyed the wooden coffin with his bare hands just moments ago, thinking about how much he had hurt Molly Hooper. The fear of losing everyone he cared for, slowly and intimately, simply felt rotten to the core. 

He saw John’s hand reaching for him, reminding him that there are more things to come – things he had to face and hopefully conquer. 

His mind reeled as he stepped into the next room, thinking about the stages his clever little sister has prepared to unravel the depths of his memories. First was his home, then his humanity by playing with the lives of strangers, then the idea of unrequited love. The words of Eurus on making him choose between Mycroft and John rang over and over, and yet what he saw in the next room sent his heart racing due to urgency.

With nothing more than a table with a sleek, black box on top of it, Sherlock felt his knees buckling in fear. It was all too familiar now, the contrast as to why he dismissed John’s quip upon seeing the wooden coffin. 

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Doctor Who Official on Instagram: After this evening’s episode – World Enough and Time - finishes you can head over to BBC One’s Facebook page and watch a live Q&A with Pearl Mackie and Steven Moffat! The Q&A starts tonight (Saturday, 24th June) at 7.30pm!
#DoctorWho #Whovian 

I love this! Perfect to have when it’s the 50th anniversary of the Beatles album, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band (May 26, 1967). Also fitting when Peter is a huge fan of rock n’ roll! 😎🎸

Beautiful Silence (1/2)

Soulmate AU
Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader
Summary: Not everyone had a soulmate. You were one of the few who did, and you eagerly anticipated meeting them and starting your destined journey together. You were ready for it. You weren’t ready for when it went wrong.
Word Count: 2,832

[Part 2]


A/N: This plot bunny kept me up all night, so suffer with me. The story is a little angsty, but will ultimately have a fluffy ending. I’m working on the second part now, so it should be up by tomorrow.

Originally posted by smilethroughtears96

Silence never bothered you. It was a little odd when you’d watch people bop around to music you couldn’t hear, and it made you a prominent target for practical jokes, but you wouldn’t trade the silence for anything.

Well, for maybe one thing…

You were born deaf. There was no discernable medical cause, leading the doctors to conclude that you were blessed with a soulmate.

Not everyone was lucky enough to have one, and not everyone had the same connection. Hell, not even soulmates had the same connection. Your eighth-grade teacher had her soulmate’s name written on her wrist, while her wife had a countdown timer. You were deaf, waiting to hear your soulmate’s voice before hearing the rest of the world.

That’s why the silence never bothered you. It made life difficult at times, sure, but it was more than worth it. The silence meant that somewhere out there, someone loved you. Through all of the ups and downs of your life, there was someone who loved you. And the only thing you would ever trade the silence for was the sound of their voice. The beautiful, melodic sound would wash over you and all would be right in the world, if only for a moment. At least, that’s what all of the stories said.

That moment would make everything okay. It would make even this okay, you told yourself, as you tried to fight off the two robots that broke through the window of your apartment. No matter what happened, the moment you heard your soulmate’s voice would make even this okay.

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Long Time No See

I should be studying for finals, but


“W͢HO͠ DA͜R̴E͘S̢ ̵ŞUM͡MON̶ M͠-̴ w͞e҉ll, h̡ello ̀t̛h͟er͢e͘!̡ Long͜ tim̀e͠ n̴o͢ ͟s͝e͝e!͘”

Dipper stared down at his summoner- a regular- who categorized as a very distinct character for calling himself, “Dat Egnarts.” Of course, Dipper knew who he really was (Little Odd, 45, born February 24, lives in the town of Phad in the Megrez Island in the California Islands region, a famous artisan chef who was the star of a popular cooking series, often made deals for rare spices and seasoning, no one knew demonic deals were behind his success, will die in four minutes and 59, 58, 57, 56 seconds…) but this summoner tended to know a lot about demonology. Through a bit of digging through his omniscience, he’d realized that Odd’s dad was a very famous demonologist whom had taught his son one or two of his own tricks.

He’d always seen that frighteningly small countdown on Odd’s informational details, and had always wondered what would be the cause of it. It looked like he was now going to experience that scenario firsthand.

This was no lighthearted deal, however; this was A Basement. Dipper knew better than anyone that basements were No Good, not ever, and always lead to something or another that would never be an ideal happy ending.

His surroundings were out of the usual cult- huh, he didn’t really peg Odd for a cultist- berobed, ominous figures, stark against the glow of the candles. With an unreadable expression he swept the light from the candles and replaced it with his own eldritch flame- the cyan, blue flicker of a malevolent presence.

And presence was important now, because someone was going to die.

A poker face was immediately molded onto his mask-like stature. “Do ͝yo҉u ̵w͝is̶h̕ ̧to̡ ̢mak͜e͡ ̕a ̨dea̛l?̀”

Dipper’s voice was quiet, but dangerous.

Odd stammered. Was he breathing? “Th-ey, er, want me to-” Odd couldn’t continue. Instead, he broke out into a worrying fit of coughs and gasps.

Dipper examined Odd’s aura for the first time upon his arrival, and was surprised to discover that he was terrified. He didn’t usually get this from cultists, beyond the usual first-time jitters. This was fear that tasted good, delicious anxiety and waves of panic.

So Dipper mentally corrected his moral compass. If he demon side thought that something was a good thing, it wasn’t about nine out of ten times. He read deeper into the situation. What was really going on?

And something he hadn’t noticed before caught his eye.

In the corner of the room, a child struggled against the will of two cultists. He had duct tape over his mouth, but wasn’t making any noise (a silencing rune was placed on his forehead.) He was clearly unwilling to be there, and very clearly being held against his will. With a stretch to his memories, Dipper got his information via omniscience and a laser-focus rendition of what had just happened to him.

This was Tavon Odd, the fifteen year-old son of Little Odd. He and his father had been kidnapped after his father jokingly mentioned on an interview that he was ‘super-tight’ with Alcor the Dreambender after he was questioned on his uncanny use of hard-to-find herbs. A joke like this had gone unnoticed by the rest of the world, except the convenient empath who was the leader of the Cult of Evasive Hymns.  She quickly realized that Odd wasn’t actually lying. Her goal was to get someone who could easily provide the cult with what they wanted by forcing him to summon and word a proper deal, so  they could have nearly guaranteed success. It also was a bonus that, she reasoned, that Odd Little was a frequent customer of Alcor’s.

 The pair had been taken at the airport, where they were heading off to a leisurely vacation in Bermuda. Odd had come out of the struggle with a hard-hitting, panic-induced asthma attack, barely alive and breathing. He’d broken his right hand and also his jaw in attempts to give his son time to flee.


Dipper smiled. Well, it was nice to meet a familiar soul in this dark environment! These weren’t the ideal conditions to introduce himself, but it’d have to do.

He’d already wasted a minute of Odd’s time thinking. Dipper needed to get them out of this situation before they both died, or the boy would be fatherless.

He wanted to just slaughter the cult, but pl͠ay͠i͏ng ͞w̧it̷h͜ ̧t͏h͘em͡ w̛o̕ul͟d͞ be so ̸m͜u͝c̨h ͞mo͘r̨e ̴fun!

Dipper willed the rune and duct tape off of the boy’s mouth. And just then, an unexpected cry erupted from Tavon Odd’s mouth. “Wait! I can make the deal!”

The cultists laughed jeers that were taunting and ugly.

Dipper bared his teeth in what probably looked menacing, but was meant to be reassuring, smile. “A̵n̶d҉ w͜hy͞ ͞w҉o͏u͜ld̴ yo̢ù do͘ ͝t͢h̢a̧t?”

2:32, 2:31, 2:30, 2:29…

“Well, think about it guys. My dad here, he can’t breathe. I know pretty soon that he’s not exactly going to be able to word any deal for you, much less the one you would want. His hand’s injured, too, and that means he can’t write either. I’m pretty sure I’m your only hope.” The kid was hesitant, yet bold. Dipper had to admire that.

A random cultist sneered. “I doubt that a stupid kid like you can word a deal properly. You were too thick to even realize we’d put a rune on your forehead.”

The kid was clever, and his army of readied insults was trained and well-prepared for battle. “Well then, who’d like to volunteer instead? Hm? ‘Cause I’d love to just sit here and watch the show.” The kid slid down to the floor, smirking at the baffled cult members. “No, seriously. I would not mind at all. Take my place, go on.” He looked around in mock-shock. “Wow, no takers? Pretty, ironic, the kidnapee is the only one who actually knows how to make a deal with a demon.”

Another dirty-looking cultist with a southern drawl reared up, stretching out like a snake preparing to strike. “I’m warnin’ you kid, one more word, an’ this knife ‘ere’ll be so far up your daddy’s ribs his lungs’ll be pokin’ out ‘is throat.”

Tavon grinned, but in the unnatural way an actor would put on a show for a camera. He held up his middle finger jokingly, but Dipper could tell he was getting increasingly worried about his dad. Odd, the one closest to the circle, was now on the floor, face turning a funny shade of purple. Tavon kept sending shifty-eyed glances towards Odd, and the demon, as expecting him to do something. He was afraid, and Dipper needed to do something about it.

2:00, 1:59, 1:58, 1:57…

“I'͞d̢ ̢b͟e͜ wi͘ll͠i̴ng͜ ͢t̶o ͠m͘aḱe ͞a͞ ͡de͘a̡l wi͘t͜h ͝the k͠i̕d̢.̷”

Everyone in the room turned towards him.

Tavon sensed the urgency of the situation. “I’d-um, I’d like-”

Dipper (and Odd) didn’t have the whole day. “T̶̶͝I̴̵͘C̢K̀͘,͘͢ ̡̛T̕͞O̢̧͡C̀K̛͟͞,̕ K̛̛Į̴D̀̕!͘”

Tavon collected himself. “Out of this basement for both my dad and I in exchange- for- ”

Dipper was desperate, too much so. “H̷̨͏u̵r̵̀r̶̢͟y̛͝ ͟u͘͟p̢,” He gestured down at Odd as if to say, Come on kid, don’t you see he’s dying?

He’d seen a lot of death. He just didn’t want this particular kindred soul to be fatherless.

Also the sputtering sounds coming from below were making him really uncomfortable (He preferred quick deaths, and if it had to be slow than it was better gorey than suffocation, of all things..)

A voice carried on the final verdict. “All of their lives.”

It was totally an unfair deal. The lives of eight whole people (and all the delicious pluses that came with having a body!) for a small favor of teleportation? That surely was not an equal value. But hey, that was what the boy had offered and it wasn’t like they all weren’t going to be dead by the end of the incident, anyway…

He didn’t even have time to bargain or negotiate.

A cultist, in the middle of dissing Tavon, was saying, “Oh please, like Alcor would ever take that deal, you stupid, mortal piece of du-”

He blipped to the kid, who offered him his hand. A flash of blue fire later, and each cultist began choking and gasping, quickly turning purple.

“H̵̴̸ey̡͠͡ g̶͝u̕͝y҉s̸͟,̶ ̡͏̴év̀ȩr ͘h͠͏͢e̴a̵̴r̨͞d o͘f͡ ͜͝K̢̡̛A̷͝R̛̀M̧A͏?̀?҉ ̀Ń̨ex̶̕͟t̢ ̢͟t̨̛i̶̢m̶͜ȩ̧,͏́ d̸҉o̴ǹ͜'͜҉t̨͜ ̵̵ḱ͠i҉̀l̡͢l̸̢ ͞so̷̡̧m̧e̴o̶͠ńe̢͘ ͠i͏ņ͞͡ ̧͠th͢͟͞e̡ ̀͠sec͘o͏n̨͘d̶̴̵-͢mò̸st͏̕ ͞҉pà̸i͞n͝f̨͝uĺ͠ ̸̡̀wa̴y͜͏͡ ͏̶̶t̢͢o̧҉̶ ̵̨͏d̶̵i̕ȩ͘!”

0:35, 0:34, 0:33, 0:32…

Before blipping out, he grabbed both Odd and Tavon, and changed to a more human form before he would appear next to the nearest hospital.

 He entered the stretcher and was dragged towards the hospital enterance. There, he was shoved into a room.

0:09, 0:08, 0:07, 0:06

I just need you to breathe with me, ok?

Sir, he isn’t responding.

The heart monitor isn’t giving good feedba-

0:04, 0:03, 0:02, 0:01




Dipper cringed. He’d felt the end in full force. 

In the waiting room, a very human-appearing Dipper sat a seat away from Tavon, tapping his foot impatiently. This is only because you’re you, Tavon. I seriously do not want to deal with this right now.

He’d already sensed the flatline. It had happened right on time, just like his internal countdown had predicted. He didn’t want to be the bearer of bad tidings and tell Tavon of Odd’s untimely death, but rather wait for the doctor to come deliver the news.

And, now Tavon was going to start asking questions. Last time, you weren’t so goddamn curious all the time!

“Is he going to be ok?”

Dipper sighed. “I don’t know. But hey, nice wording back there with the deal you’d made.”

“Really? Thanks!”

Dipper smiled. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Thomas Strange.”

Tavon frowned. “My name’s-”

Dipper hid his grin behind his hand. “Oh, I know your name, Tavon Odd. And I think you’re going to make a fine demonologist one day.”

After this, Tavon is handed off to another person, a wealthy, kid-friendly guy with a doctorate in demonology who Dipper happens to be very friendly with. He was one of Dr. Strange’s best students. You can guess the career path he chooses. Also, Dipper stops by on a regular basis to check in with the flow of things. Tavon’s sad, but life does go on. Eventually.

Centuries {Peter Maximoff}

unedited. a mess. listen i genuinely don’t know what this is. Peter/Reader soulmate au set sort of during/mostly post-XMA. everyone’s born with a counter on their wrist counting down to when they’ll meet their soulmate. have fun. (TA is teacher’s assistant; reader is mid-20s)


“You’re gonna meet him soon.” You’re on a day trip to Broadway with the drama class you’re TA of when the world goes to shit, and now you’re sitting on a bus as the world is torn apart around you. However, the real problem is your asshole, precognitive, best friend and fellow TA in the seat next to you.

“Yeah right, with my luck, my soulmate’s a moleman and we meet because he’s literally ripped out of the Earth.” Beside you, another building’s metal foundations are torn out and soar off into the horizon. The bus is vibrating ominously.

“Not a moleman.” They grinned knowingly - unsurprising, that vague prick - before they tipped their head thoughtfully, eyes glazing over as they did whenever they were focusing on a vision. “But he is an asshole.” You found yourself stuck between a sarcastic ‘well great’ and ‘don’t joke like that, you know it’s not funny’ but the words stick in your throat, and all you can do is look at the little counter on your wrist.

Unlike most other people you knew, you were pretty sure your soulmate countdown was broken. Since the day you were born, it had never worked right; the clock counted down in hours until you and your soulmate would meet, and your clock had so many numbers that it wrapped around your tiny infant wrist like a tattooed bracelet; the doctors told your disheartened mother that it would be over a century until you found your soulmate. However, some time around August, when you were ten years old, the counter had begun to jump down rapidly, sometimes even months at a time, annoying you and confusing everyone around you. It had been years since the numbers had behaved with any sense of normalcy, and the counter as a whole had become a sore subject that you vehemently denied discussing. Mostly you tried to pretend it didn’t exist, because there was no way it meant anything, and if it did, it couldn’t be good.

It didn’t stop you wondering, as you watched it jump down a few minutes at a time before your very eyes… Still, your best friend’s visions had never been wrong before.


No. This couldn’t be happening. This stupid thing is broken, it must be; it’s been almost a full twenty-four hours since you last saw it jump. Somehow this, above everything else is what you’re concerned with, above finding a crater where your school was, above meeting a CIA agent calling herself Moira proclaiming that Charles is in the hospital and that the world has been saved. Well, those aren’t her exact words, but it’s what she means, and Professor McCoy is by her side, so Charles must be alright. You comply easily as you and your students are hoarded to a nearby lodge that was abandoned in a panic and that the government will totally pay for them to stay at if anyone realises they’re there.

This, of course, means you’re free to brood by a window for as long as you please, glaring at your wrist as it counts down normally. Of course now it makes you wait.

Of course you had pictured in your head what your soulmate like be like; when you were a child, your first thought would be that he would look like your grandfather, which scarred you for a good few years, so instead you pictured a soft-face woman, reminiscent of your grandmother, who would make you cookies and read you bedtime stories. Your understand grew as you did, and as a teenager your imagination runs wild, picturing yourself as a world traveller, adventuring, exploring, and searching for your one true love in the remote corners of the world. You were never sure of their gender, but they were always beautiful and successful, a self-indulgent fantasy that you found sad to even entertain. As an adult, you simply pictured the clock counting down to zero, and looking up into the eyes of someone whose smile felt like home. 


“Are you sure they’re alright to come here so soon?” Moira’s voice was low, talking to Hank in the kitchen when most of the kids were in bed. You hadn’t meant to be eavesdropping, but you’re pretty sure you can hear every second tick by and it’s making you antsy.

“Erik hasn’t left Charles’s side since he was admitted and Charles doesn’t have the strength to keep Erik invisible forever.” Hank sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, exasperated. Moira clicked her tongue. “And before you ask, even Charles knows not to exert Jean like that after what happened, also she has morals when it comes to mass-murderers.”

“I know I shouldn’t be suggesting this, but-” Moira sounds genuinely nervous as she speaks, but after a brief hesitation she goes on, “could you smuggle out all the equipment, you know, keeping him alive?” From what you know of the rest of the city, it’s a surprise there’s even a hospital standing, but if Erik is the same Erik as Magneto, anything was possible. Hank agrees, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to.


You had fallen asleep in the common room, waiting for Hank to return to make sure the Professor was okay- which was a total lie, you were secretly terrified that Magneto was your soulmate and were suddenly totally comfortable with the idea of sleeping through that meeting time. 

Woken by a terrifyingly fast and consistent knocking on the front door, you don’t even think to look at your counter as you stand, bleary-eyed and annoyed, to open it.

Open up! The world-savers have arrived!” The voice on the other side is unfamiliar, but annoying and in mild danger of waking up the students.

It’s three in the fucking morning; there is no need for that.” An unfamiliar, lightly accented voice snaps, irritatingly familiar until the door unlocks itself before you get to it and you realise it’s Magneto, voice unchanged from the speech he gave over a decade ago at the Washington Summit. Shit.

Standing dumbfounded in the hallway, you watch as the door swings open of its own accord and you’re suddenly overcome by a yawn, scrubbing a hand over your weary face. Stopping dead, mid-yawn, your attention looks at the counter as it clicks down the final seconds, and you hear the annoying voice from before.

“Did I wake you?” He’s not a moleman, he’s a silver-haired guy with his leg in a cast and crutches under his arms, eyes bright in a way that means he’s on some sort of pain medication and low on sleep. You shake your head, mouth still half-open in shock, and he steps over the threshold, letting Magneto, holy shit, pass by, and Hank roll in the Professor, along with a heavy-duty array of machinery that Jean is squinting at furiously, making it follow Charles telekinetically, greeting you with a half-aware hand wave. Like a bolt of lightning had hit him, Peter’s moving at the speed of light, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket.

“I think I’m meant to be meeting my soulmate soon,” he’s definitely on something, as his mouth is moving a mile a minute, and he’s squinting at the wrong wrist, “I hope its not a student,” he half laughs, “that would be weird!” He’s holding out his non-counter hand out to you, trying to pull back the sleeve of his other wrist with his teeth, “I’m Peter, by the way-” bemusedly, you shake his hand, but he’s suddenly gone very stiff.

“I’m [Y/N].” You say, slowly, shaking his hand weakly as his gaze lifts to meet yours, incredulous smile on his face. Already you can feel a blush work it’s way up your cheeks, but the look in his eyes isn’t creepy or dangerous, it’s something almost grateful, bordering on adoration and… relief. “I’m your soulmate.”

Moffat Appreciation

Look, to make it quick, because time is just not on my side and I’m dying with work from uni:

I’d love to do a Steven Moffat Appreciation Day this year! It’s just really, proper tradition. No November 18 without some serious Moffat appreciation, and I’ll even try to continue this beyond his time on Doctor Who, even though the way this blog will continue is still uncertain.

But I don’t think the current hiatus and people’s availabilities are the best basis of doing a proper Countdown and organising a weekly event.

Instead: What does a proper Steven Moffat Appreciation Week in January sound like? We’ll all be newly energised by what I’m sure will be a wonderful Christmas Special and can have the time of our lives looking back at an era which means so much to so many of us. Yes? No?

Any other suggestions are more than appreciated as well!

Rec list for the week of September 24

Soulmates September: 

Nine for Nine: 


Tentoosday: (all tentoo x rose)

Other prompts:

Whew! 25 fics this week!! You guys are incredible–so many good stories! With so much in our tag and mentions, it’s entirely possible we missed one. If we didn’t reblog your fic this week, or if we did but it’s not in the rec list, send us a message and we’ll fix it!

Thank you so much, everyone! 

Let it Snow


For the @carryon-countdown prompt (Nov 12th)

Summary:  Sometimes, Simon wanted to wrap him in his arms and soothe him to sleep. Sometimes he just wanted to join him and cry together. But he couldn’t. Because Dr. Pitch was like snow. Simon could only admire him from the other side of the glass. As close as he may look, he was absolutely unreachable.

Word count: ~1.8k

Tags: Fluff, pining, doctor/patient

It had been years since it had last snowed in London. Yes, at least once a year you could see little snowflakes falling from the sky, but it had been a long time since it last really snowed.

Simon could spend hours just watching the snow fall, from the other side of the old, hospital window. It was hypnotizing. It was cold but Simon didn’t care, he was always warm.

“I hate snow,” his doctor, always a rather silent companion, said beside him. Dr. Pitch, a young man probably Simon’s age. Must have been a brilliant student to work as an oncologist at such a young age, Simon thought.

Dr. Pitch was a rare creature. When he was around, Simon was suddenly surrounded by a cold but somehow soothing feeling. Just like with snow. Simon called it the Dr. Pitch effect. He didn’t talk much, but his presence alone was overwhelming.

Simon liked to play a game in his head in which he imagined Dr. Pitch’s regular life outside the hospital. He’d imagine him doing the most mundane chores, like cleaning. Simon was sure Dr. Pitch had an obsession with cleanliness. And that he liked to cook—especially for breakfast. He’d imagine him burning his toasts, just for the simple fun of it, not because he thought he was the kind of bloke to actually burn his toasts. No. Dr. Pitch wasn’t like any kind of guy. He appeared to be cold-hearted, distant. But he wasn’t.

Some nights, Simon could feel Dr. Pitch’s presence at the other end of the room. Probably thinking Simon was fast asleep. Some nights he could hear him crying in silence. 

What a lonely man he was.

Keep reading

Now that the pain has dwindled and my sobriety returned

Allow me to relay the tragic tale of EG’s wisdom tooth surgery

The nurses were crazy cool.

I don’t even remember half of it. They didn’t even do the countdown thing. The last thing before surgery was me getting some shot in me and saying something to doctor and then I woke up.

I said something about “I’m gonna come out to my mom” to a nurse and I think she said “it’s 2017 you know.” I mentioned something about “being an actor but I want to go into communications” and “I know a little bit of language” then I got escorted to my mother into recovery HEAVILY medicated.

And then when I saw my mom I started crying.

She was like “what’s wrong?” And I was like “you remember that time when my sister was getting married and you said you weren’t going to show up if she married Ellen (I was doped the fuck up, I meant woman). Well I want you to come to my wedding.”

My mom was really confused. I was really confused. I was trying to get one of my nurses to relay to me what I said but she was busy.

Then I started crying more and then I was like “I want to marry count olaf” and then she said “Neil Patrick Harris” and I was like “yes Neil!”

I mentioned to her that I wanted to get back into sign language and, while incredibly doped up, signed to her half of what I was saying. I distinctly signing “NPH” and my mom being like “are you saying you want to marry a guy”

And then I was like “yeah! I had this stupid plan to do this while I was doped up so I wouldn’t remember” (spoilers, I did). And she was like “oh honey you don’t have to worry about it like I already knew” I talked to her about how i thought she would dispose of me in some creative drug-influenced way.

So yeah.

I officially came out to my mom on heavy amounts of laughing gas.

Worth it? Idk. Good story. I could definitely work with it and make a stand up routine about it.