#fic: if the doctor dances

[hithertoundreamtof23]

Happy Birthday @sobeautifullyobsessed !!! 🎉

Here is a fic to celebrate you and the amazing joy you bring to the world. You have made me appreciate the little things in life and have encouraged me to try new things (like writing romance). May you be blessed on this special day.

Side note: I tried to incorporate the strong but gentle dynamic in Clea you enjoy. It could be seen as Comics Clea, MCU Clea, or even be substituted for any of your brilliant OCs. I hope you enjoy!!

Summary: Clea and Stephen dance at a Kamar-Taj party. Aka., a song fic based on "Shut Up and Dance" by Walk The Moon.

[camellcat]

WTFFF I thought thirteen would be my new girl crush love of my life heart eyes wife you-came-after-twelve-you-must-be-better-than-they're-all-saying bbygirl and then I had to sit down and watch as she told a man who (if he were not a murderer, of course) literally every regeneration before her would've LOVED and FULLY SUPPORTED that "the systems aren't the problem. how people use and exploit the system, that's the problem. people like you" </33333 !?!?

[captainswan618]

Someone sedate ME!!! so glad to have you along on this chewing glass journey 😭😭😭😭😭

*screaming at a pitch previously thought to only be audible to dogs* THEYRE SO. FUCKING. AUDGIZHSGAGHAGSHGH

sidenote if you have any fic recs I would be SO open to them omfg. I’ve read some fics already but I’m sure I’ve missed a lot of good ones!!

[mintedwitcher]

ninesimm bitches(gn) gather round

my brain is Stalling hard on this fic idea so let me know what y'all would rather read

[martianbugsbunny]

one of the best parts about writing fanfiction is saying "my fic my rules." the Avengers didn't live in the tower together as a little family? well I think it would be fun and my fic my rules. the crew of the Argo 2 didn't have group sleepovers on the deck to watch the stars on their way to certain doom? well they deserve to have a little chillax and my fic my rules. the Doctor doesn't sleep in a bed? well I think it would be neat for them and my fic my rules. the Fulcrum agents didn't meet in canon? well I think they would be besties and my fic my rules. it just makes the whole thing so much more fun

[popcorn-plots]

stephen once created a group casting spell involving the Boot Scootin' Boogie line dance because someone told him he couldn't possibly figure it out.

[dogsarethebest312]

Even In a Different Life You Still Would’ve Been Mine

Chapter: 12/31

Rating: Gen

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler

Characters: Rose Tyler, Eleventh Doctor

Warnings: none

Summary: Rose was introduced to the high society world of ball gowns and tuxedos after arriving in Pete’s World. The last place she expected to find such an event was a toy store.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@augustwritingchallenge: Retail Worker

@doctorroseficmarathon: At a Ball

@eclipsingbingo: Slow Dancing

[quietwingsinthesky]

Drabble 52/366 - Doctor Who

“I thought she- she would regenerate.”

“She might have, if you’d stopped.”

“I didn’t know- I thought- Don’t touch me!”

“I see what the Doctor enjoys about this now. Fun new learning experiences around every corner.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t want to.”

“No one made you.”

“She had a-”

“And it was pointed at me.”

“…It was pointed at both of- of us.”

“Optimistic and delusional. So cute. You really are one of his.”

“He would never have- Never.”

“You believe that—”

“—I said don’t—”

“—when you’re standing on the planet he destroyed?”

…

…

…

“Get your hand off of my face.”

[skyriderwednesday]

Okay, so I'd have to wait for my aunt to return the book so I can use it for reference purposes--

But there's a plot bunny gnawing at the wiring in the back of my head of an epistolary fic between retired Holmes and serving Watson writing to each other about the public facing side of The Mysterious Affair At Styles...

Again, I can't do it until my aunt gives the book back (which may take months - her house is a void and she is a human tornado), so this is me gently picking the bunny up and putting it back in its cosy hutch before it hurts itself (and if anybody would like to adopt it feel free).

[regenderate]

i have a tenrose figure skating au and i swear to god rotating the concept of fifteen and ruby as pairs skating partners is making me change the entire au. they would be so everything.

[19thcenturyfuck]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: First Doctor/Patience, The Doctor | Theta Sigma/The Master | Koschei Characters: The Doctor | Theta Sigma, The Master | Koschei, Patience Tags: Unhealthy Relationships, Weddings, Codependency, Family Issues, Infidelity, The Doctor is a Mess, Doctor Who Lore

He’d rather make an ally of someone older and pleasant than someone his age and as abrasive as he was. It wasn't good for Theta to be around people like him.

[angstandhappiness]

BAH HAH HAH

reverse age limit au where Bruce still cant convince any of his kids to just stay home but they all stop being vigilantes once they graduate high school.

Bruce is too busy sobbing into their college acceptance letters to question the logic.

[reikunrei]

flipping a coin to decide whether I should work on more st/dw comparison analysis or work on fanfic. the coin lands on its side and I do nothing.

[fernacular]

Ratchet enters the multiverse!

I'm proud to present my piece for this years @tf-bigbang !!!

Thank you so much to my amazing partner for this Reverse Bang Saphire Dance! Please check out her companion fic Doctor Doctor, it's funny and adorable and so so good. "An accident in Brainstorm's lab brings Ratchet down to discover he's already there. Leave it to Brainstorm to mess with the multiverse. Two Ratchets quickly becomes three. How many Ratchets can the Lost Light handle?"

[nereidprinc3ss]

belladonna

in which you have to get your tetanus shot, and spencer is there to hold your hand. and… tease you. just a little bit. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: needles/r has needle phobia, flirty!reader, idiots in love, teasing, not established relationship yet, anxiety, Spencer makes a joke abt his addiction, did I mention IDIOTS IN LOVE a/n: works as a standalone, as do all the bandages fics I believe. anyway hope u like! <3

“Spencer, I don’t think I can do this.”

He sets down his shoddy hospital coffee and grabs your knee to stop your leg from its rapid bouncing, exerting a gentle pressure when you don’t immediately comply.

“Yes, you can. Just breathe, okay? Try to relax. It’s much harder for your brain to remain in fight-or-flight if your body is relaxed.”

“No, it’s—I feel like I can’t breathe right now,” you say, chest constricted in a vice of panic. “I think my heart is beating too fast, I—”

Footsteps approach from the hallway and your head snaps up, cold dread filling every vein in your body—but they continue past your door.

“Oh my god, I’m losing it. I’m going to die here,” you rave, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. The gauze wrapped around your hand presses against your brow and beneath it a cut throbs dully—a cruel reminder of what it is that you’re doing here in the first place.

Spencer gives up on trying to make you stop bouncing your leg, and instead the hand travels to your jaw to find your pulse. His fingers feel cool against your warmed skin, accentuating the constant thrum of your heart. You watch his face anxiously as fifteen seconds go by. 

“Your pulse is pretty high,” he admits gravely, returning his hands to his pockets. Your brow knits at his sudden solemnity as you look up at him. “I’m not a medical doctor, but… we might have to take you to the hospital.”

Any trace of worry withers from your face. “Truly hilarious.”

The corner of his mouth turns up a little.

“See? You’re calm enough to make a sarcastic joke at my expense. If you were actually going to die I doubt you would be able to do that.”

“Wanna make a bet?” you snap.

“Definitely not,” he smiles, warm eyes alight and not at all fazed by your attitude. “You’re the last person I’d bet against.”

“Ha,” you say bitterly, eyes darting to the door again. “In that case I might just take my chances with tetanus.”

“I just watched you slice your hand open on a rusty fence, take down a man twice your size, and get ten stitches without flinching. Needles should be afraid of you.”

At least now your face is warming from the compliment and not the anxiety. 

“It’s... different. Like, stitches and shots. Shots really fucking freak me out. I don’t know if you could tell. I’m sure I seem really chill about it.”

He nods sagely. “Trypanophobia. It’s among the most common phobias in the world, next to Arachniphobia, Ophidiophobia, Acrophobia, Aerophobia. You have Astraphobia, too, don’t you? Fear of storms?”

“Spencer.”

“I also used to struggle with needles, actually.”

You look back at him, suddenly curious.

“Used to?”

“Yeah, but I pretty much got over it when I got all the vaccines for my clearance at the Academy. Becoming addicted to intravenous drugs helped, too, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” he muses, examining the art on the wall behind you and taking a sip of his coffee.

At that exact moment, the door opens and a very professional, very exhausted-looking nurse hurries in. You hardly even register her because you’re staring at Spencer, trying to figure out if you just heard him right. He’s looking right back at you over the rim of his cup, eyes dancing with what looks like suppressed mirth.

The nurse says something, and you bless her with an ‘uh-huh’, unable to take your eyes off of Spencer.

“I must be hallucinating,” you say.

“What? You’re the only one allowed to make off-color jokes at inappropriate times?”

“I didn’t even know you could make a regular joke, honestly.”

“You ready, dear?” says the nurse, swabbing your upper arm with an alcohol wipe.

“Ah! Spencer!” You yelp, thrusting out your hand for him to take. He quickly sets the cup  back down on the window sill and takes your outstretched hand, stepping closer.

“Relax,” he laughs upon seeing how your shoulders have risen to meet your ears. “Don’t look over there. Look at me.” Gently he brushes a loose strand of your hair behind your shoulder, redirecting your focus toward him. At this point you’ve gone catatonic anyway, so you don’t resist, although it doesn’t seem to matter much because you’re basically blacking out. “Literally relax your arm. I'm serious. It will hurt less.”

“Small pinch, darlin’,” the nurse says, and you clench your jaw so hard you’re afraid you might break a tooth, and maybe some tetanus-induced lockjaw wouldn’t actually be so bad, and she’s touching your arm now, and who made that extremely undignified squeaking noise, and— “And you’re done.”

You frown.

“I’m done?”

“You’re done,” the nurse repeats. Logically she has no reason to lie to you about this, but you look over to check anyway because there’s simply no way you’re done just like that. Sure enough, she’s smoothing a band-aid over your shoulder and pulling your sleeve back into place.

You look back at Spencer as if searching for a second opinion, utterly baffled. He carefully frees his poor hand of your bone crushing grip and grabs your discarded FBI jacket from the chair, handing it to you.

“That’s it?” you say, taking the jacket and absent-mindedly folding it on your lap.

“That’s it. You did it.”

“Really? That’s all? I feel like it can’t be that easy. I don’t even think I felt anything,” you ramble, rolling your shoulder around, and finding just a bit of soreness.

“You were so brave,” he nods, stepping closer to wipe something warm and wet away from under your eyes. “Americans can rest easy knowing they’ve got someone like you in the FBI.”

“Shut up. Am I crying?”

He laughs, and the twinkly sound fills you with even more joy than normal. Everything seems a little brighter, a little warmer—probably another adrenaline rush or a result of your brain releasing a trace amount of opioids in response to the pain.

“Just a little bit.”

“You two are FBI?” The nurse says, like she can’t quite believe it.

Before you can tell her that you don’t very much like her tone, Spencer nods.

“Behavioral analysis unit.”

“Oh! You guys catch all those serial killers?”

He nods politely, giving her a flat smile. “That’s the goal, yes.”

“Wow. There’s a meet-cute to tell your children.”

You snort and immediately clap your good hand to your mouth, looking up at Spencer to see how he’ll react. Of course he’s already red and stammering.

“Oh, no—I—maybe I misled you, we’re not, uh… we’re not together. Not like that. We are partners in the, in the sense of our job, not—we’re not romantically involved. Just—co-workers. Friends. We’re, I’d say we’re good friends. I mean, she’s great. She’s very nice, and, well—maybe nice isn’t exactly the right word, but she’s, you know—”

“Spencer,” you interrupt.

“You ready to go?” he says immediately, looking very grateful that someone finally cut him off. Works like a charm, every time. 

You stand, and to your surprise, wobble a bit on your feet. Spencer steadies you with a hand to your waist. “Woah,” you mutter, trying not to look too disoriented.

“You need to eat,” he says. “With how anxious you’ve been you probably completely burned through whatever calories were in your system. It’s a parasympathetic nervous system response to adrenaline.”

“I know what it is.” You grab his hand and turn to the nurse, who is looking at the two of you with a bemused, slightly clinical interest. “Um... thanks? Right?”

“Okay,” Spencer says. “We’re leaving now. Come on. Go.”

As he’s herding you out the door, you keep trying to look at him over your shoulder. “Is it weird that I kind of liked it? Does that, like… point to something?”

“Never repeat that,” Spencer says, shaking his head, but you can hear the strain of a hidden smile in his voice. 

You smile up at him as the two of you walk down the empty hallway, swinging his hand in yours.

“She thought we were together,” you say, and it’s almost a gloat, though Spencer can’t quite wrap his mind around what that might mean. Instead, he relishes the weight of your hand in his. He doesn’t exactly remember when that became commonplace, but he never takes it for granted. He can’t help the smirk across his face which always lets you know he’s going to say something snarky. 

“She just doesn’t understand that you need constant attention or you’ll die.”

Luckily, you’re used to each other. Quips are just one prevalent dialect in your vast love language. 

“Yup. I’m a delicate, rare flower.”

Spencer scoffs lightly.

“Yeah. Like deadly nightshade. Or water hemlock.”

“Those ones are pretty, right?”

He squeezes your hand. Imagines telling you that he’s in love with you and has been for a very long time. 

Instead, he thinks about dinner. 

“Gorgeous. Where do you want to eat, Belladonna?”

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[tsukimirecs]

ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ // fic recs

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

wriothesley

want some tea? shared dreams, blossoming hearts his sudden favoritism no touching for you, i'd steal the stars. oh, the man he is... doctor's note

al haitham

of spices and parchments drunk confessions a shoulder to cry on one second dream a little dream of me? the misadventures of a scribe, howl's distant cousin, your poor soul: oh my archons they were housemates! i visited idiot street and everyone knew your name! father cupid

kazuha

slow dance two points of view destined parting what the wind brings time and fallen leaves meet me at our spot snowy horizons morning angel

neuvillette

retrouve-moi dans le jardin à minuit i thought the world would be black and white, (it's golden) to lie, to lose raindrop a chocolate secret poetry vient la douleur