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yeehawbrothers · 6 months

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Inverted PB&J-11th Doctor x Fem! reader

I'm alive guys.

This was a request from a lovely fellow 11th lover, I wrote it platonically, but if you ignore a few words it could be romantic. I also wrote the reader as American, just because I am. (I also zoned out while writing this and do not remember most of it)

“Do you think it could be considered a federal crime to eat inverted peanut butter and jelly?” She asked, hands covered in grease, sparks flying almost catching her hair on fire, and her best friend beside her, in the same state. “Inverted?” He looked up from the wires in his hands, his grease and dirt covered face, also covered in confusion. “Yeah like,” an explosion of sparks behind her interrupted her statement, before she spun around and used her sonic to tame it momentarily. “If you put the peanut butter and jelly on the bread normally, right? And then instead of putting them like, face to face, you turned them outward.” She stared at him as he seemed to process her words. “Oh, yeah. That’s absolutely a crime” he nodded, as they both went back to what they were doing.

Behind them, Amy and Rory stared at them in question, before turning to each other with faces of pure bewilderment.

Amy slowly stood and walked towards the two timelords, crouched under the ball of wires. “Inverted peanut butter and jelly? Where on earth did that come from?” A shot of sparks erupted in the timelords face as she stopped her work momentarily, the metaphorical cogs in her mind visibly turning. “Boston, I think. In like, 1901.” She said, with a small smile. “What?” She tilted her head slightly, “You asked where peanut butter and jelly came from, Boston. In the early 1900s.” She paused, “But if you’re asking about inverted peanut butter and jelly, I don’t know that. I’ll find to find out though.” She turned back to her work, as Amy shook her head and walked back to where Rory was sitting watching the scene unfold.

“What was that about?” Rory said as he watched his wife flop down on the makeshift bench beside him. “Who knows.” They turned back to watch the two timelords who were now bickering over the wire placement, before all went silent as the lights flickered and a pounding was heard on the metal doors. The two timelords looked towards the door, before turning to each other and immediately standing up. The Doctor began quickly scanning the room as his right-hand woman ran to where Amy and Rory sat. “Hey so, we should probably start running.” As if on que, the metal doors flew off the hinges into the room. “Right, let’s go.” The Doctor ran over, grabbing her hand as they began to run down the hall to the Tardis.

They stopped, allowing their two companions to run ahead into the welcoming blue doors of the tardis. The Doctor lightly pushed her ahead of him into the box, running in last and slamming the doors behind him. The two ran up to the main console and began flicking switches and pulling levers causing the Tardis to take off with a violent shake, before stilling. “wow that was-“ Amy began, before getting cut off by a certain timelord.

“Why would you use the purple wire for the highest current?” The Doctor froze, looking over at his companion. “Well I-“ The Doctor began stuttering over his words. “No, seriously. It only had the capacity for 5 voltage, and it was running at 25. No wonder the doors were faulty.” She stood, hands on her hips staring him down. “Well if YOU,” he pointed at her, shaking his finger, “Hadn’t gone off about inverted peanut butter and jelly-“ She gasped, “Do NOT blame me Mr.! That was an incredibly valid question. Right?” She turned to the two humans watching the scene unfold. “Well-“ Rory started. “Don’t get them involved!” The Doctor said, “You know what, it doesn’t even matter. Because everyone knows peanut butter and butter is better anyways.” She stomped her foot in detest, “You take that back!” He shook his head, crossing his arms as he looked down at her. “You’re the British one, eating beans on toast or whatever it is, so you have absolutely no credibility on what’s good.” He gasped lightly, “EXCUSE ME? The British one???” She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, I got lucky and am a proud American.” She stood in a fake salute.

“Listen,” Her hand coming to rest by her side, “All I’m saying is one fried Oreo will change your life.” His tongue stuck out in disgust as he considered the notion. “You American’s and your fried stuff. It’s so unhealthy for you.” She scoffed, “At least we don’t eat like we have no access to real food.” They stood like that for a moment, in a standoff of sorts, the Doctors face one of disgust, and hers smug as could be. Before bursting out in laughter and pulling each other into a tight hug.

When they broke apart, she wacked him upside the head, hearing Amy snicker and watching the Doctor rub his head. “Don’t ever do that again though, I’m doing the wiring next time.” She pointed, hand on her hip. The doctor stood quickly, taking his turn at coming to a false salute. She shoved him jokingly, before turning back towards the console. “SO. Where to now?” The doctor thought for a moment before running around the console causing the TARDIS to shake and launch into takeoff. All the passengers grabbed a hold of the metal bars circling the console. “I know this amazing place in the Amedromia galaxy! Its- WHOA WHOA WHOA” He was interrupted quickly. “You know I’m banned.”

Silence fell among the Tardis, “Your-your banned?” The doctor tilted his head slightly. “Yeahhhhh…. So, I accidently stole this like super important religious piece from one of their temples cause I thought it was a free sample.” The doctors face dropped into one of annoyance, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” She became defensive quickly, “Listen- at least I’M not the one who stole that guy’s eye cause he thought it was a Halloween costume.” “HEY, YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T TALK ABOUT THAT AGAIN-“ As they both launched into yet another bickering session, Amy and Rory sighed and shook their heads. “Here we go again.”

Thanks for reading, and thanks to @dinofromspac3 for the request. <3

All the love-A.

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ghoulie-67-baby · 3 months

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Tally- Doctor Who.

Summary: You’re running from the silence. You’ve been separated from the doctor and the Ponds and life seems to be slowly coming to an end. What if the madman doesn’t come to save you?

Warnings: Fear, pain, mentions of death, dehydration, exhaustion, pet names, mentions of hallucinations, crying.

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x GN!reader. (Platonic or otherwise.)

Word count: 1,151.

The rushing of blood echoed in my ears and my limbs ached with exhaustion. I had been running for god knows how long and I just seemed to get more lost. I allowed myself a break, falling to my knees in the fine, desert sand, chest heaving as I caught my breath. Dizzying pain ripped through my ribs from the stitch I had; I knew I couldn't stop for long. I didn't know what I was running from, but the fear that had acclimated forced me to run. Whatever it was, my body was in fight or flight and my senses told me it was something life-threatening.

An assortment of tally marks stained my skin, and though I knew I was the one who put them there, I couldn't remember why and that chilled me to the bone. The marker pen in my pocket seemed to dig into my flesh as my ears caught a gurgling sound behind me. My head turned slowly to face the noise as my hand grappled to pull the pen from my jeans as the creature came into view. My body felt as though it was sinking into the ground as I scrambled against the ground.

The wind seemed to pick up out of nowhere as it lumbered closer to me, kicking sand into the air around us. I groaned in pain as it blew into my eyes, blinking furiously.

My mind felt fuzzy as the sand finally cleared and I sat up, shaking my head to clear it before standing. My heart was beating a million miles an hour, but I didn't understand why. Fresh markings littered my skin and I stared at them, questions and fears rolling around in my head. My eyes watered as I scraped through my mind to work out what was happening but all I could work out was I was terrified and whatever I was terrified of was causing me to lose my memory.

I let out a few sobs as I fought off my panic before huffing out a long sigh. Now wasn't the time to break down, now was the time I needed to run and find someone who knew what was happening. I had to keep moving. I was in a desert with no food or water and was constantly moving. I wasn't stupid, I knew I had days to live in this condition and I didn't know how long I had been running for.

In the past hour, I had gained a total of 11 extra tallies despite the empty desert around me. My legs were barely holding me up, knees trembling with exertion but I forced myself to keep going. I longed for the wheezing of that beautiful blue box to fill the dry air, desperate to feel the cold metal of her interior on my scorched flesh. And that madman's voice to just tell me everything was okay, that he had fixed everything and I was safe but I had slowed to a stumble.

I didn't have the energy to run anymore and soon I would collapse, the sand would cover me and I would be forgotten to the world. There was no TARDIS on the horizon, no Doctor to save me and no Ponds to make me feel better.

Precious tears streamed down my face as my body gasped for breath, pain flaring through my body as my knees buckled beneath me. I didn't want to die, not like this and not in such a beautifully dangerous place but as hope drained from my body, I was slowly coming to terms with it.

"Y/N!" My head snapped up at the voice and my eyes zeroed in on the gorgeous blue monument ahead of me. "Don't give up, keep going," I scoffed at the hallucination of the Doctor, of course, it was him my dying brain would imagine. "You're nearly there now, Love." I clambered to my feet unsteadily, if I was going out then I might as well use every ounce of energy.

The sun glared into my eyes as I trudged along, feet slipping against mounds of sand. The TARDIS seemed to get closer and I had a horrible feeling that as soon as I reached her, I was going to die. She was like my light that people warned you not to walk into. So be it, I'd die happy if they were my afterlife.

"Nearly there, come on, you can do it." He coaxed me closer, holding open the door as I kicked up sand in my fight to reach him. I held my hand out towards the Timelord, his hallucination blurred by tears as I closed my eyes to welcome death.

But death never came. Instead, my hand was met with the calloused skin of another as fingers curled around my own. He was never a hallucination.

My eyes shot open as the hand pulled me forward, the familiar creaking of the TARDIS door behind me, as I all but fell into the police box and into waiting arms. The pen in my pocket clattered to the floor as I gripped the tweed jacket and buried my head against the time lord.

"I know, you're safe, Love, just breathe." My sobs echoed through the console as my body became overwhelmed with relief and pain, dragging me through a tidal wave of emotion.

I gasped as we sunk to the floor; pain, exhaustion, confusion, fear, relief, and happiness all at once. The chest beneath my head vibrated as softly spoken words carried me through the feelings.

"I've got you, you're safe," he whispered into my ear, my gasps settling to shuddering breaths. "I'm so sorry Y/N," my body leant against him bonelessly as his hand smoothed over my hair, the other rubbing gentle circles into my back. "That's it, good job, Love." Silence followed as I clung to him, the ambience of the TARDIS comforting me. After a few minutes, I tilted my head to look into those beautifully old eyes and smiled weakly.

"Knew you'd find me," I whispered, ignoring my hoarse throat. "Cutting a bit short weren't you." I teased, his green eyes glazed with tears as he smiled down at me, wiping my cheeks gently.

"We had some trouble," he chuckled, "Someone didn't want us to find you but I couldn't let that slide now could I? Not for one of my favourite humans eh?" I forced my arms to wrap around him, gripping the back of his jacket in a hug and buried my head in his neck as the past few days caught up with me.

I was safe now, my body had clocked on to that fact. I couldn't help how my eyes slipped closed as I relaxed into the Timelord's grip, finally letting my body and mind shut down to recover from the ordeal.

He would always save me, no matter what.

#doctor who #11th doctor #eleventh doctor #eleven #dr who #amy pond #rory williams #doctor who x reader #doctor who x y/n #x reader #reader imagine #reader insert #doctor who imagine #doctor who fic

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arting-block · 1 year

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𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝟏) | Eleventh Doctor x MCU!Sorcerer Reader

❝𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶?❞

Summary: Something is wrong...very wrong.

Genre: Romance, AU/Crossover

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, heavy cannon divergence for this series as a whole going forward.

Words: 4.5K

Reader: POC friendly, she/her, 24 y/o.

A/N: REPOST since I stupidly uploaded the wrong draft 💀. That post and timeline won't appear. I spent the week editing and I'll get to finalizing the second chapter. Sorry if the plot seems slow, I want to flesh everything out.

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Forces of the universe contort and stretch your atoms mercilessly. Colors, light, and sounds shred your senses until your mind can only process pain. You can discern if you’re traveling up, or down; all you feel is the skin of your flesh searing off. Plasma glides around you, lulling you into its embrace. The sea of cosmic energy passes through your body and your soul eagerly accepts.

Then it stops.

Daring to open your eyes, you are met with a vast, multi-colored plane of existence. White dots of all shapes and sizes surround you, connected by a web of energy. The temperature borders on scalding, but you don’t flinch. You know this place. The edge of your universe.

Being here with a physical body hurts more than you imagined. Sorcerers only come here in astral form. You’ve already reached beyond the limits of your physical universe. You feel movement around you. Space-time distorts and you feel your body being pulled down, down, down—

You hit the ground with a deafening BOOM. The Earth caved under the force of your descent as your body drags a couple of feet into the soil.

The air sizzle around you as you try to open your eyes. Everything’s hot—burning. Your skin barely contains the heat that your blood emits. Power, raw and ancient, boil your veins. It’s all-consuming.

A magic beyond your mortal understanding is now fighting for dominance against your one soul. The pain you feel goes beyond your torn skin and burnt muscles. Your spirit is being burned—decimated.

You try to sit up; gritting your teeth at how stiff your sore muscles are. You notice the lack of feeling in your limbs. Dull pin-pricks trickle around your hands and up your arms as if your limbs went to sleep. You roll to one side and use your forearm and your other palm to push yourself upright. Letting out a shrill cry, you try to command your limbs to move. In the fog of your mind, you think rigor mortis is starting to take place.

Every inch of movement is sharp and painful. Your lungs struggle to keep your breath even as you push up off the ground. You catch a glimpse of how damaged you were. The skin around your arms is peeled and caked with dried blood. Burnt muscles are exposed between the gaps of your exposed dermis. Enchanted sorcerer robes were no match for primordial cosmic energy it seems. The sleeves that would’ve normally protected against magical fires were burnt off.

“Get…up,” you croak weakly. You can’t even curl your fingers around the charred grass beneath you. Your limbs obey no command.

Between the blackened muscles of your hands, you see slivers of multi-colored light. It peaked around the veins of your hands and danced gracefully down your forearms. It was taunting you. The power of five Infinity stones rests in your palms and you cannot even muster the strength to even sit up. They might even be the reason you’re rendered immobile.

You knew one thing for certain: you were alive. Maybe not for long if you keep wallowing on the ground.

Thanos won.

If the pain from your marred arms was debilitating, the realization that you weren’t strong enough to save half of the universe stung worse than any physical wound. The ringing in your ears and the headache are distracting enough to stop you from going down a mental spiral.

Breathe. Stay calm.

Your body shuddered with every shaky inhale. Every little movement caused sharp pains and burning. You feel hot energy bubbling beneath the surface of your skin and you wonder if it’s going to burst.

“Get…up,” you wheezed. Tears started to prick your eyes and your arms were shaking trying to keep your upper body off the ground.

I’m weak. I was never strong enough, to begin with.

Clenching your teeth, you stubbornly command your limbs to move.

Why bother? It’s not like I’ll be much use anyways.

“Please!” your voice is raw and scratchy. It physically pained you to cry as your lungs pressed against your ribs. Your legs tingle but don’t obey.

Don’t listen to those thoughts. Prove them wrong. Get up.

Your arms collapsed under your weight and you slammed your head onto the dirt. All the fight left your body and you feel the metallic taste of blood in your throat.

— — —

An hour passed before the nerves in your body responded to your mind’s command. Every shallow breath sent waves of constant pain emanating from your ribs. You grit your teeth and swallow the searing pain. Stubbornly, you rise from the rubble on shaky, bleeding legs.

The sparks of your nerves and numbness in your hands combine to shield your mind from recent events. Survive now. Think later. Your mind obeyed the command, putting all of its efforts into moving one foot in front of the other. The small crater you found yourself in was shallow enough that you could crawl out of it despite feeling like you were immobile. Everything blurs and your senses dull. Survive, Move, Breathe. You remind yourself the need for oxygen is worth the throbbing in your ribs. The air scratches the worn cords of your vocal folds— mingling with the copper taste of blood.

One foot drags in front of the other. Half stumbling, half dragging, you move your defeated body. You are nothing more than a ghost possessing a long-dead body; desperately clinging onto life as if you have something worth living.

Vines, branches, leaves, and dirt swirl in your vision in a dizzying pattern. Move.

The weight of your sling ring anchors your thoughts. Its cold surface stings against your chaffed skin. Once polished and sturdy was now cracked and brittle. Like your hands, it took the full force of five Infinity Stones; you think it will snap in two with one use.

— — —

A shrill whirring sound accompanied the arrival of The TARDIS. Its blue paint contrasts with the natural landscape of Rwanda. The TARDIS’s doors slam open as The Doctor stumbles outside. Immediately, the humid air makes the clothes on his body stick and his hair damp. The heat though is unnatural. His nose smells of smoke, but no cloud of ash would indicate a fire.

The Doctor is no stranger to odd happenings. Things that don’t quite line up, but come together in a glorious puzzle that only he knows how to solve. Smoke in the air, but no visible fire. Air that seems to simmer when the weather is supposed to be cool in this area. His fingers reach towards his sonic screwdriver and use it to scan the air.

Amy finds the jungle fascinating. Sure, the purple ferns on Pandora are bioluminescent and the waters of Jahroda are hot pink, but she never got a chance to explore Earth’s own biomes. Most of the time they visit Earth it’s either a different period in Europe or her hometown Leadworth. Her sense of adventure heightens the possibility of knowing more about her home planet. Stepping onto moist soil, she notes how rich the greens of the leaves are.

Rory, ever the cautious soul, stands directly beside his wife. Something in his gut told him that an important change will be made. Although he cannot discern if that change is good or bad, it’s a feeling he cannot ignore. He keeps his thoughts to himself, however, not wanting to bring his wife’s mood down. Especially with something as flimsy as a “feeling”.

“Well that’s odd,” The Doctor inspects the findings of his screwdriver. A piece of this puzzle has revealed itself to him: high amounts of CMBR.

Amy looks over The Doctor’s shoulder at the screwdriver, “You gonna elaborate?”

“Cosmic background radiation—CMBR for short. It’s light from the time of the Big Bang which has been stretched as the universe expanded. What’s odd is that CMBR is as cold as -270 degrees celsius! The chemical composition of the air is relatively normal save for a bit of smoke—BUT,” The Doctor whips around to face his companions, “Those compositions don’t explain the heat we’re experiencing right now. The TARDIS says it would be 16 degrees, but in this area, it’s jumped up to 36!”

“But you said CMBR is super cold, how could it heat the air?” Rory tried to follow The Doctor’s rambling.

The Doctor snaps and points his finger directly in Rory’s face, “Why does CMBR—which is known for being cold, heat the air?”

Rory wasn’t amused in the slightest.

“CMBR isn’t always cold?” Amy tentatively asked.

“No,” The Doctor kept his eyes on Rory, but pointed accusingly at Amy, “It’s cold now.”

The implication of his words made the two uneasy.

“You’re saying that the energy from The Big Bang…is here?” Amy tried to piece her limited knowledge of cosmology to whatever nonsense The Doctor is saying.

“BINGO!” The Doctor clapped his hands, happy that Amy caught up to him somewhat.

“Wait—Pause,” Rory pinched the bridge of his nose, “You said radiation, right?”

The Doctor waved dismissively, “Don’t act like you haven’t inhaled toxic fumes in the boiler room of spaceships. The dosage of CMBR right now is far below the lethal limit to kill a human.”

The Doctor says it so nonchalantly that at first glance, it seems he forgot he wasn’t human himself. His choice of words—radiation, dosage, lethal—should send bouts of anxiety inside his human companions. The unknown is a primal fear second to the fear of death.

Rory’s heart beats steadily at The Doctor’s words. Amy’s curiosity eats away at her mind, ready to experience another new adventure with her two favorite people in the universe. Beyond their instincts, their trust in The Doctor had overwritten their biological code. Conditioned by life-threatening events and planet-saving memories, Amy and Rory accept the unknown.

Walking along the crowded terrain, the trio huddles together and observes the frightening wonder that surrounds them. Long, spindly trunks and densely packed leaves block out the harsh Rwandan sun. Dew drops permeate the air, the vines cascade off branches in soft waves, and the sweat of their skin imprints on their minds. The wind is still and sounds are few and far between. Only the sonic screwdriver and The Doctor’s mumbling breaks the natural silence.

It doesn’t take long for them to reach the anomaly. The rapid sounds that come from the screwdriver make both of The Doctor’s hearts leap. His mind already conjured theories on what exactly the anomaly the TARDIS picked up.

A time field was an obvious guess, save for the fact that any rupture in space-time the anomaly caused sewn itself shut. As far as anyone could tell, no rupture occurred in the first place. Time fields would also not cause the rapid appearance of CMBR within the immediate area. Then, there was the anomaly itself. Something—or someone—caused the sudden rift and swiftly sealed it. Another time traveler perhaps? A new piece of alien technology that had yet to be known by The Doctor?

The space between the sonic screwdriver’s beeps became shorter and shorter until it emitted a constant high-pitched whine. The Doctor stopped his movements; his view ahead was obstructed by a conveniently placed curtain of vines.

Anticipation crept up in the trio as they watch The Doctor swat away the vines. Sunlight blinded them for a moment before they laid their eyes on the scene before them.

— — —

Time blurred the moment you tried taking a few steps out of the crater. Your body started to buzz and dots danced along your vision. Quick, fast heartbeats, uneven breathing, and lightheadedness were the only signs that you weren’t going to stay conscious for much longer.

A muffled voice picks up in your fuzzy mind. Were they muffled or did your hearing fail you? You vaguely feel your body slump to the ground. A pair of arms grab you. You existed outside of your body. Any feeling you possessed faded, leaving you to watch as people drag you off the ground. You were lifted and your arms were slung around two shoulders. Panicked voices barely registered.

Slowly, the voices were overpowered by ringing in your ears and your pounding heart. The black in your vision grows larger until you feel the weight of your eyelids dropping. Your mind bears no thought as you slip out of consciousness.

— — —

You have a close relationship with pain and all of its forms. You’ve been subjected to the universe’s worse foes and clawed your way to victory. Bones have been broken, and blood—both yours and otherwise—had been shed. Parts of you have been lost and you gained more armor to guard your weakest points. When you crashed into the jungle, it was undoubtedly the worst your body had been subjected to.

The pain in your shoulders rudely snaps you back into the waking world. First, you feel the burning soreness in your upper back. It traveled all over in the form of stinging and aching. You audibly groan as you shifted in your bed.

The cot let out an audible squeak as you swung your legs over the edge. Aches and pains made you stiff in your movements. The metal floor sent a cold sting to your feet as you tried to stand.

Glowing orange walls surrounded the expansive room and gave an ambiance. The whole structure of the walls and vents that decorate the walls seemed to be a campy alien spaceship from a movie in the 90s. The ceiling had large air ducts, circular tubes, and multi-colored wires jutting out. A metal sink and mirror were situated on the other side of the room. Between you and the sink was a metal table with multiple shelves. On each shelf were bottles of disinfectant, medical tools, and vials with substances that glowed.

You inhaled deeply, ignoring the sharp pain from your lungs expanding, and used the wall to guide you to the sink and mirror. Your joints creaked painfully and your steps were uneven. Half shuffling, half limping you pushed your aching body. Breathe, you had to remind yourself. When approaching the sink, you grabbed the edge of the counter. The arch of your feet was sore and your knees ached in protest.

The first glimpse of your reflection made your heart jump to your throat. Your eyes snag on the numerous discolored patches of swollen skin. Your cheekbones and jaw were various shades of black and blue. Between the bruises were bandaged stitches crisscrossing irritated skin. Whatever small cuts that were too small for stitches were scabbed over in a dark red crust. The smaller cuts decorated the marred skin down your neck and—you assumed—underneath the white shirt. When you shifted closer, you saw a haunting ghost staring back. Despite how the sight of your face left you sick, you couldn’t move your eyes away. Lifting your head around, you let your eyes capture every new gash and bruise. 24 cuts. 7 of those had stitches. 4 large bruises.

“You’re supposed to be on bed rest,” an accented voice cuts through your thoughts.

You whip your head around to meet the stranger. Were you so caught in your thoughts you failed to hear his footsteps?

The man was a few paces ahead of you. Brown hair framed his boyish features. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his brown tweed jacket. He stood leisurely, but his eyes analyzed every movement of your face. It wasn’t curiosity. He was cautious.

Whatever moisture was left in your swollen throat dried up at his stare. The cracked skin on your lips stretched painfully as you forced a few words out, “Who are you?”

“I’m The Doctor,” he says simply. As if it was a simple truth of the world.

“Did you stitch me up? No offense, but…You don’t look like any medical professional,” you mumbled. More accurately, he didn’t remind you of Stephen. The Doctor lacked the crisp demeanor and commanding aura that Stephen possessed. If anything, the man in front of you looked more like an English professor than a medical doctor.

“Why yes, I did! Are you in pain? No itching, fever, aches?” he stepped closer to get a better view. His hands were clasped loosely in front of him and he had to bend slightly to get to your eye level.

“No, none of that. Where exactly…” you trailed off looking at the room around you.

The Doctor seemed to understand what you intended to ask, “Ah, well you’re safe first and foremost. We’re in space and while the chances of encountering other life aren’t zero, it’s safer than where we were on Earth.”

His words threw you in a loop. Space? Taking a good look around the room, you would expect this place to be a cafe at Tomorrowland, not a spacecraft. It didn’t look like any of the alien spaceships you’ve encountered. Back home, ships were sleek and minimal with neutral colors. Even flashy party ships made 100 years ago still had a level of pristine that wasn’t reflected in the room you were in.

Your heartbeat started to rise; pieces of a puzzle started coming together. You were in another universe. That in of itself isn’t hard to believe and you’ve had your fair share of multiversal adventures in the past decade. Something was wrong. Fundamentally wrong. Beyond the torn muscles and barely-functioning organs, you felt the unease deep in your soul.

“How did you find me?”

“Who didn’t find you is the real question,” The Doctor dug his hand into his pocket and retrieved a strange cylindrical device. Clicking a button, the tool let out a high-pitched whine and he used it to scan your upper chest area, “A rip in space-time, though not normal, wasn’t anything to write home about. What did catch my eye was the amount of CMBR lingering in the impact area. Practically every fleet within a few hundred light years and a working broadcaster would pick up the radiation. ”

“Cosmic background radiation? From the hole in space-time?”

“Not exactly,” the device stopped ringing and The Doctor looked at a window on the side of it, “In fact…it came from you.”

You scoffed at his accusation. When you met his deadpan expression, your smile dropped.

“Oh, you’re being serious. Like…Radiation from the Big Bang inside my body…Right now?”

“For some reason, your body is keeping it stable and housing it within your veins and muscles. When we moved you from the crash sight, your body seemed to absorb any leftover radiation from the clothes on my body and in the air.”

Looking down at your wrapped hands, you see the split skin around the skin of your fingers. A thick layer of scabs prevented you from seeing the muscle underneath. You could feel the stones’ powers weaving between your fingers and down your arm. Your nerves were too numb to determine if the heat of the magic hurt or warmed you. Everything felt static.

“Listen to me (Y/N), I need you to—”

The Doctor’s words died when he saw you back away immediately.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” your voice wavered.

Sensing the change in your mood, he brought his hands up, “It was in your wallet—”

“Wallet? Y-You have my wallet? You went through my robes?”

Your robes were your pride and joy. For four years you intricately stitched runes into the inside fabric, seams, and the lining of your pockets. Layers of protection interlocked and knotted together to not only make the pockets seemingly disappear when you’re not wearing it but were physically incapable of opening up when it was off your body. It would take years to even get rid of the knotted magical energies before you could even begin to undo your runes. You made sure of that.

The Doctor dug into his jacket pocket before revealing a familiar rose-colored rectangle. Before he held it out toward you, you snatched it from his hand. Flipping it open, you were horrified to see the black-and-white image of your driver’s license. Your pocket change, gift cards, and stacks of talismans were still where you left them. Without a doubt, you were holding your wallet in your hands. Everything from the frayed ends to the scratches of the leather was the exact same.

Not even Wong had the ability to break your runes. Three hundred and forty-one runes, thirty-five charms, and twenty curses. Yet some wimpy Englishman with no eyebrows seemingly had the skill needed to break down your life’s work.

I don’t know whether to be mad or impressed.

“How the fuck did you break them? The runes, the curses—How the fuck did that happen?” you gawked at the items in your hand.

The Doctor had his hands up and backed up slowly to gain distance from you, “You were bleeding! We had to remove your clothes and hoped we could identify you.”

“And the wallet fell out?”

“Yes! I swear,” fear was evident on his face. His words slightly wobbled and his breaths were quick.

He tells the truth.

Your body had a way of connecting with others subconsciously. It wasn’t telepathy or some magical spell. It is a primal instinct. Fear, truths, and lies crackled in the air and your body could sense the change. The Doctor’s words didn’t leave an ache in your gut or a tingle down your spine. Anxiety pooled in your stomach, taking root and branching outwards.

When placing runes, one must embed power into them. Eldritch magic drew power from external dimensions and those energies expanded into the greater multiverse. No matter where you were, those energies should feed into the runes and power them.

Unless…

“Who protects Earth from external threats?” you tried to keep your voice even.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at you, “Depends on the threat. Not to toot my own horn, but I have been the one to stop many of the otherworldly threats that plague our universe.”

“The Avengers? S.H.I.E.L.D.? Guardians of the Galaxy?”

“Nope, never heard of ‘em. Sounds like cool band names wouldn’t you think?” The Doctor gave a small, cheeky smile.

“Iron Man? Spider-Man? The Sorcerer Supreme? Do none of those names ring a bell?”

“No—Wait, what exactly are you asking for?”

“Are you seriously telling me that you—” you point your finger at his face, “ —are the sole protector of Earth?”

The Doctor straightened his jacket and gave a pleased look, “Well when you put it that way. Of course, I’m not the only one. You’ve probably heard of them, uh…U.N.I.T. and Torchwood? They’re Earth’s protectors against extraterrestrial threats.”

“What about mystical ones?”

“Mystical? Why on Earth would you need to—oh. I see it now.”

Hope bloomed in your chest. Maybe it has been a while since he’s seen Earth. You weren’t crazy, something in this universe must mirror your own. Maybe it was a niche superhero or maybe he knew someone who—

“You’re a Sporgatuu. Explains the weird robes and odd questions. Look, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. The answer is, no! I will not join your stupid lil’ club no matter how many women you send!”

You gaped him. Is he seriously accusing you of being a missionary?

“I mean c’mon! After 2 thousand years you still believe in fairy—”

“Multiverses! Do you know anything about the multiverse?”

The Doctor scoffed at your question, “Again with the ol’ multiverse nonsense. When will you learn that our timeline is a fixed one? If so much as a single alternate universe was created, it could greatly distort our reality and cause everything to collapse in on itself!”

“I am from an alternate multiverse! You said I had CMBR in my body. It was because I came from a universe where I accidentally absorbed the physical energies of our universe and…Uh, unknowingly came here. I-I just assumed that the properties of your universe would be close to mine.”

You let out a shaky breath. In the span of a few minutes, you’re entire worldview came crashing down in one single blow. Never, in the years you’ve been a sorcerer traveling the multiverse and higher dimensions alike, had you encountered a universe where the fate of humanity rested on a goddamn Englishman. In almost every parallel universe there existed at least a group of like-minded powerful protectors. Most universes had a Sorcerer Supreme, Avengers, or The Illuminati. With the magical energies residing within the universe, it guaranteed that every single universe had magical protectors of some kind.

The Doctor’s eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape as he tried to process your words. The silence that enveloped you amplified the thoughts swarming in your head. You started to pick at the edge of the gauze around your palms trying to keep yourself calm. Breathe. In and out.

“This is ridiculous. You seriously believe in alternate timelines?” The Doctor ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know what rock you’ve been living under. Unless you got a better theory on how I acquired numerous burn marks and radiation, I’m going to find a way back home. If you’re not gonna help me then just give me my clothes and stuff. I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No, absolutely not. I mean this with all due respect, but you’re a mess. When we found you, you were a writhing, bloody mess.”

You rubbed your face and let out a deep groan, “I don’t have time for this. Seriously, if you’re not going to help I’ll grab my stuff and leave. With or without your permission.”

Turning away, you start to walk away and toward the entrance of the room. You only made it a few paces before a hand gently grabbed your wrist, stopping your advancement. Turning your head over your shoulder, you meet The Doctor’s worried face.

He looked stuck in thought. Striking green eyes flittered between yours and around your face. You didn’t dare move a muscle.

“Prove it,” his voice is above a whisper, but there is intent behind his words, “Prove that your universe exists. If what you’re saying is true, I will help you get back home. In the meantime, you’re going to have to stay here until you’re fully healed. There’s a chance your body would reject the radiation.”

If what he said about your robes were true, and the fact that seemingly none of your allies existed in this world, Eldritch magic wouldn’t be possible. You feel it in the stagnant air around you. Beyond the humming of machinery and electricity flowing between circuits, the void of space is dead. Back home, energies were a powerful current that you could barely control. An ocean of power that could drown you if you did not respect it. The universe you crashed into is empty and cold.

“And if I can’t?” you clenched your hand to keep your voice steady.

The Doctor smiled, “Then you’ll have to stick by for a while.”

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quietwingsinthesky · 1 month

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in the amelia pond au, amelia’s aunt does still send her to therapy between doctor adventures, but since amelia is now secure in the fact that he’s Definitely Real since both rory and mels have also met him and because she lost a tooth last week from tripping on the stairs of the tardis, she doesn’t bite any therapists this time around. and besides, her therapist is a very funny lady. she reminds amelia of her doctor, with how her voice will flip and jump in volume and accent and tone on a whim, with how she’ll talk to amelia like they’re conspiring together. she keeps the pictures amelia draws of the doctor and their adventures for her, even hangs one or two on the walls. she listens very intently to every detail, which no adults in amelia’s life do save the doctor himself and river song, whenever she’s around. and best of all, whenever she tells amelia’s aunt that amelia is doing just fine, don’t you worry, she’ll grow out of this, she winks at amelia so that amelia will know her therapist is only playing along to wave away her aunt’s suspicion.

it is a little odd, though, that she insists on only being called Missy. but amelia is quite used to odd by now.

#not the point of this post but. please do imagine amelia and rory and mels and the doctor all having escaped from Real Actual Danger #rory has the energy of a cat with its fur all puffed up and looks like he’s either going to start crying or yelling at the doctor #mels is standing on the box the doctor got her so she could see the tardis console better and studying the way he flies it very intently #and amelia is still full of energy and adrenaline and can’t stop racing around the tardis like a hyperactive gerbil. because if she stops #she might have to be scared instead but if she can run long enough she’ll forget to be scared at all and when she collapses exhausted all #she’ll have left are the exciting happy memories #and then she misteps racing up the stairs. shouts! the doctor and mels and rory are all at attention immediately. mels moves first but rory #is closer and helps amelia back up. and then the doctor is crouching down in front of her. ‘let me see. oh that’s a lot of blood. that’s.#how much blood are you able to lose again? its more than this. probably.’ amelia’s whole face hurts. but the doctor’s rambling is familiar.#it helps. and he’s only so talkative when he’s sure he has a solution. besides. rory’s head’s nestled on her shoulder and mel’s got her #hands. the doctor wipes blood off her nose and her chin. tilts her head up and goes ‘aaa’ sticking his tongue out until she does it too.#and he tells her to feel her upper row of teeth with her tongue. she does until she finds the gap.#it still hurts. hurts more when she nudges it with her tongue all bleeding and raw. but she just lost a tooth! and you know what that means.#they have to find it. or else how will the tooth fairy leave her any money?#(the doctor hears her say that to mels as they search. and he glances off to the side and makes a note to go back and make sure it *was* her #aunt leaving her those coins. and not something else. which he does. and finds out her aunt wasn’t leaving her any coins at all.#he can’t just let that stand! so the doctor becomes amy’s tooth fairy as well.)#and that is how amelia loses a tooth on the tardis.#amelia pond au

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homofocused · 8 months

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Imagine meeting someone on the scariest and most confusing day of your life thus far. They grab your hand with equal parts kindness and conviction, save your life, and offer to show you the universe. They love you so much, so quickly, and in a way you cannot fathom. They love you like you love children, like you love strangers that make you smile, like you love your cat, like you love your best friend, maybe even like a lover, but all at once. They love you in a way that you cannot possibly reciprocate, so you give them the most love, you give them everything you have inside of you, pouring yourself out, and it will never be enough because they have been alive for centuries, and they have seen everything, and you are a moment.

It is staring into the sun and finding that for an instant, the sun is staring back. There is no way not to love them, nor is there a way for your love for each other to ever be anything but a tragedy. It cannot last forever. Maybe you don't want it to. It hurts, living in the gaze of the sun. Maybe you're content to burn.

But then, one day, it ends. Maybe you chose it, maybe you didn't, but either way, how have to go back to living a life that seems smaller than it used to, and with the love like sunlight gone forever.

Anyway, every day Martha Jones wakes up.

#doctor who #rose tyler #martha jones #amy pond #jack harkness #can't believe im doctor who posting in 2023 #but i was just thinking about it #can you even fucking imagine #this is all companions btw #but i was just watching smith and jones so martha gets a bonus shout out

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aletterinthenameofsanity · 2 months

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Hot take: River and the Doctor having a father/daughter relationship would have been WAY more compelling than a romance arc. I mean, you'd also have to adjust a lot of shit in Season 6 for it to work but like imagine. Amy insists on the Doctor letting her come with him to search for their daughter. River Song is not Mels but rather straight from the astronaut plot. Picks the name River Song herself because she likes the ring of it and that's how she kicks off her new regeneration- with a new name instead of comments about checking her weight. Let's Kill Hitler where Amy encourages River to save the Doctor because the Doctor has been searching for her as much as she and Rory have, where River decides to save him not because She Is River Song and River Song Wants To Marry/Kill The Doctor Timey Wimey Sexist Bullshit but because she can see that the Doctor can't be evil if her parents love him and he spent so long trying to find her.

Then, instead of entering archaeology to "find a good man," decides to become an archaeologist to make her own path outside of the path that the Silence set for her. Not about the Doctor, but about her own desire to learn, to find something permanent, to discover things in her own way outside of the TARDIS.

Let the bittersweetness of the River&Amy&Rory&theDoctor dynamic come from that. Not because Amy & Rory stopped caring after River had saved the Doctor's life, but because River insisted on getting to figure out who she was outside of the path set for her. And the fact that River will outlive her parents by mere virtue of the whole half-time-lord-DNA thing makes her relationship with the doctor tragic and compelling not because she doesn't think she'll ever live up to him but because they are the only two people that understand each other's grief

#yes this is mostly the plot of my fic series but this is still a way to handle the season 6 river arc with more agency #take out the doctorriver of it all and give me RIVER WITH AGENCY #yes i am still pissed about the “to find a good man” and “because she's a woman” of it all #GIVE RIVER SONG AGENCY #also trans allegory river song?#IMAGINE TRANS RIVER SONG FOR ME PLEASE #FEMME FATALE ARCHAEOLOGIST TRANS RIVER SONG #there's something here #river song #eleventh doctor #amy pond #rory williams #meta #canon divergence #doctor who

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riverspond · 4 days

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all i want in life is matt smith on big finish

#like i know ur booked and busy but please sir #like just IMAGINE having the ponds and eleven in a big finish series #the amount of money i would pay for more 11amy content #big finish #doctor who #the doctor #eleventh doctor #matt smith #amy pond #11amy

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just-a-twinge-of-cosmic-angst · 4 months

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Amy's Choice.....is to look like a Peruvian folk band

#imagine reading that as a non whovian #doctor who #amy pond #rory williams #11th doctor #my post

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camellcat · 7 months

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I have absolutely no idea how to articulate that cat!eleven and cat!amy are just bluestar and firepaw to me

like the whole "come along, pond!" line just makes me think of rusty following bluestar back to thunderclan camp for the first time

#just the imagery. not even really like. I can't see them as either of those characters but they are sooo #little kittypet follows mysterious warrior into the woods #which really is just doctor who in a nutshell but I mean THIS and THEM specifically #like can you imagine cat!eleven crowing from the treetops to “come along pond!” as a kittypet!amy struggles to keep up #I want to draw this so bad even if it does not make any sense <3 #if ninerose is squirrelcrow and tenrose is talljake to me then I don't see why eleven and amy can't be bluestar and firepaw lol #none of those make sense but in my heart they fit! xD #eleventh doctor #amy pond #doctor who #doctor mew

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baezdylan · 1 year

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MUSICIAN!AMY AU: Talking To The Apple is a song recorded by Cassandra Blackwood (Amelia Pond) for her 5th (although this remains uncertain - it's been said that Blackwood has released double the number of songs she officially shared. whispers about "melodies sung by the river" and "library pools") studio album, You Be A Good Girl. Blackwood said it came to her as "a vision" hence her insistence that she wasn't the one to write it: ''It's not my song. It's a stolen dream I had to sing." There exists no evidence that would potentially support this statement.

(song) (for @god-nonsensical)

#amy pond #doctor who #amy pond unrelated media universe #the young veins #everyone but you.mp3 #amy pond 🌻#dw the most show ever #my girls my witches my wizards my dudes...... i'm afraid i have been imagining music videos.#sorry to break it to you but #amy pond = ryan ross #we just live in the ryan timestream #mine 🧫#oh. ap is also my fox mulder <3 she has an album in which she's just being freaky about aliens <3 #(☆tiny little slug in a human suit☆ is the lead single)#MY fav ap album ♡#musician!amy

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camcorderrevival · 2 years

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Been thinking more and more about that bit of dialogue in The Pandorica Opens and linking it to Amy and just...!!! (was going to put this is @jochase’s ask box but it got too long and disorganised)

Obviously, the story’s meant to mimic Pandora’s box, with the Doctor being all the evils and Amy being the last bit of hope, trapped in the box. But neither of them fulfil those roles completely, it’s more like the combination of the two of them representing both the hope and the illnesses/evils. They’re both released from the box as the two people with the strongest connections to the cracks in time (the evils), then it’s their joint effort that fixes it (the hope).

It’s also unclear who’s meant to be Pandora in this situation. Most likely, it’s River or Amy, both of whom play a big part in drawing the Doctor to the Pandorica, triggering it’s opening. The Alliance also fits but it’s unlikely that they were intended to be the Pandora figure, by virtue of the fact that they’re just a group of classic villains.

A case could be made for the Doctor as Pandora but I think the Doctor fits more with Prometheus, who’s responsible for Pandora’s creation and described as a supreme trickster (”a goblin, or a trickster, or a warrior”) + a god of fire (”fire and ice and rage”). He’s a often used to depict the risk of over-ambitiousness, the romantic period using him to symbolise the link between intention and unexpected tragic consequence (”all this, my love, in fear of you”). He’s also depicted as humanity’s protector/saviour in Prometheus Bound (”The word for healer and wise man throughout the universe.”).

(The Doctor as Prometheus could strengthen the case for River as Pandora, with the idea that she’s created to act as retribution for the Doctor’s actions - but I think there’s also links to Amy being used as a vessel for that punishment as well)

Moving back to the idea that Amy and 11 make up both of the things inside of Pandora’s box, the origin story that 11 delivers in The Pandorica Opens (that describes the creature of the Pandorica, the evils) can be applied to Amy as well as the Doctor:

"There was a goblin, or a trickster, or a warrior" The warrior bit brings The Girl Who Waited to mind - dressed in armour, sword-wielding, has a hideout. But I think that version of Amy also falls under goblin, she's viewed and presented as a corruption of Lovely Fairytale Amelia Pond. She's the polar opposite of the magical little girl, she's rough and hateful, her hideout doubles as a lair full of things she's managed to rip from the upper levels of the facility, even her armour is made up of stolen things...the fairy tale has essentially been flipped on it's head.

"A nameless, terrible thing" Amy's name is vital to parts of her arc. She's Amelia Pond, then Amy Pond, then Amy Williams, then Amelia Williams. As much as I dislike the name stuff, it’s still significant. But also, none of them are really her name, they all have connections to other people. Even “Amy” is picked in an attempt to shake off the Doctor / her reputation as Leadworth’s mad girl. None of them truly belong to her. She's nameless in that sense.

"And nothing could stop it, or hold it, or reason with it." All those moments throughout her run where she has to be restrained, or she rushes into stuff, her fatal flaw being her pride / her blind trust in her ability to make the right choice.

Also, the idea that a good wizard that trapped the creature -> the Doctor being the one that puts Amy in the Pandorica.

(Also, also, the Doctor’s imprisonment being presented as a catastrophic mistake -> the Doctor pushing Amy to the domestic life in The God Complex, eventually leading to their separation in S7)

#this is largely based on imagination and interpretation but still #i'm making links - even if they are vaguely delusional #also - sidenote about how 11 and Amy give each other names #the raggedy man and the girl who waited #both nameless names #and how they're the people who reason with / stop the other #thinking A Town Called Mercy and Cold Blood #Amy Pond #she's the gothic heroine she's the woman in the attic she's the ghost in the castle #dw meta #I <3 just saying words and forcing other people to see them

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arting-block · 10 months

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𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝟏.𝟓) | Eleventh Doctor x MCU!Sorcerer Reader

❝𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘪'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦.❞

Summary: Wong mourns the deaths of his friends.

Genre: Romance, AU/Crossover

Warnings: Death, Angst

Words: 1.1K

Reader: POC friendly, she/her, 24 y/o.

A/N: All of my half chapters would follow the events of the characters within the MCU. No reader or Doctor here today but they will appear shortly! It's sad Wong hours now :(

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“Amidst the attack upon New York as well as Scotland, all of it culminated upon Wakandian soil as what sources say, a large alien attack,” the reporter’s voice catches in her throat. Her eyes closed, gathering a moment to compose before continuing, “Earth’s mightiest heroes tried to fend off the attackers…But ultimately failed.”

Silence envelops the dark living room. Wong’s face is highlighted harshly against the TV’s blue lighting. Dull eyes stare into the pixelated image of the shaken reporter, one of many that Wong had cycled through. Hours spent clicking the remote, seeing the same headlines, the same recordings of people decaying into dust. Each reporting of the same matter made the hole in Wong’s chest grow exponentially.

Tears were seen falling down the reporter’s cheek, “Our city is left vulnerable as sources say that New York’s very own heroes—” a shuddering breath catches the end of her sentence.

Wong’s body is made still, hanging onto the reporter’s every word. Hoping against hope that she doesn’t finish her sentence; that if she withholds the information this nightmare would surely end.

Heart beating painfully beneath his ribs, Wong felt the overwhelming urge to reach beyond the screen and muffle the reporter. With each second that passed, the tension in his body threatened to snap.

The reporter fully breaks down, covering her mouth in a fruitless effort to stop the sobbing overtaking her body. Hands appear beside her, ready to pull her back out of frame before the network turns off completely.

Darkness overtakes Wong’s eyes, yet he makes no move to turn on the lights. There is no thought flickering in his eyes, only the bottomless feeling of despair. It pulls him down into the couch, spiraling in his chest until his eyes feel the familiar burn of tears. Closing his eyes, his last memory of you and Stephen earlier that day shone bright.

Stephen’s cocky grin, openly taunting the alien with telekinetic abilities.

You in your signature red robes, opening a portal to Scotland with a determined expression.

It was the last moment—that flicker of a second before you left where you turned back to Wong. The soft yellow glow of magic highlighting the side of your face and smell of dewdrops and fire coming from beyond the portal. A small smile blooms on your face. Did you always look so tired?

“I’ll be back,” you call softly, your voice cutting through the silence of his memory, “You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

You left before he could utter a reply.

“She could handle herself,” Stephen said, sensing his unease, “She’s been at this longer than us.”

Of course he knew that.

Gripping the arm of the sofa, he tries to keep his emotions from bursting. He knew that even if one tear manages to escape, everything would become real.

In this moment of time, sitting in darkness, he can pretend just for a moment longer. Rewind a few hours to the point where he wasn’t aware of yours or Stephen’s absence. Wong could relive his memories where he was guarding the Sanctum, waiting for the swirl of magic. With only the will of his mind, Wong can exist in a paradox. Simultaneously knowing the truth whilst living in ignorance.

Maybe, if his mind permits, he can exist in the pockets of memories. Just for a moment. A simple time that he took for granted; Stephen tucked away in the far left corner of the library reading an old Vedic text, Wong in the center of the room filing away rustic scrolls and grimoires. Once in a while Stephen would break out of his reading to join Wong in the enchanting of papers so that they could have a free afternoon. If Wong concentrated hard enough, he could smell the thousand year old leathers and black coffee. Sunlight kissing his face, warming up his now cold chest.

Maybe, just maybe, if your busy schedule allowed it, you could join them in their free afternoon. The two men portaling to the inside of your office to not-so-subtly ask if you could spare time to come back to New York. “Peter is wondering where you were”, “We need help restoring this relic, but it seems we left it back at the Sanctum”, “Do you have the recipe for your chicken because Stephen burned down the kitchen”.

You would roll your eyes, scoff, tell them they’re grown adults; “All the magic in the world and yet you need a girl half your age to fix your mess”. But your words have no bite.

More often than not, you wouldn’t need their questions to visit them. You would appear under the guise of routine inspection. Sometimes you come to get a book knowing damn well you’ve already mastered all of its pages. Although Wong and Stephen don’t speak of it, they know the most you visit is when they’re not there. After a grueling mission, two of them would come home to tidy offices, a restocked fridge, and a new layer of runes along the entrance of the Sanctum.

Wong would rather be caught blue in the face before ever admitting that he would strain his ears to hear your portal. Instead of a subtle crackling of sparks, he waits for the sounds of the air being seared through.

Opening his eyes, the endless void welcomes him back. Warm memories trickle out, and the grief blooms into his chest once more. Reality comes to remind him of his duties.

The Sorcerer Supreme is gone. Only Wong being the only Sanctum keeper alive out of the three in the world. Sooner or later the remaining masters would hold yet another conference. The deaths of the strongest sorcerers in the world would spread to every corner of the multiverse.

Wong’s eyes darted to the place where the coffee table should be. It’s shrouded in darkness, but he knows where the crumpled newspaper is.

A muted image of you being surrounded by monstrous aliens. Snapping teeth and sharp claws inches away from doing damage. Blood trickled down, your face permanently snarling while your hands had a trail of fire. Carnage piled in the background to the bottoms of your feet. Wong could tell that the picture was taken moments before you’d unleashed the pent up energy in your body. Glowing veins in your neck bulged, the markings along your sleeve glowed a bright orange. The tell-tale sign of a signature move; one that became your moniker.

Below the picture was a headline that sent all the sorcerers of the world into a frenzy:

EARTH’S GUARDIAN ANGEL, SERAPH, GONE AFTER BATTLE OF WAKANDA. WHO WILL PROTECT US NOW?

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