#i love curtwen so much

[emderperq]

nothing bad has ever happened to them ever!!

(alt version below)

[ricky-mortis]

They’re the only thing keeping me sane right now

[krittykrat]

spies really are forever ^_^

[auriannaventiwithcaramel]

out of curiosity, i decided to look up if the russian word on the vodka bottles in saf was complete gibberish or if the english letters made a word or clue.

i'm sure this has been knowledge for years but yall. the word in russian means "another". it's called. another vodka.

i'm thinking about the implications and being sooooo normal btw.

[eli-am-confused]

I spent like all day yesterday falling in love with @dr-docktor ‘s SaF swap au. DMA Curt is just so special to me. I couldn’t help but draw him.

Check out @dr-docktor guys. This au is so much fun.

If you can’t read the quotes they’re under the more.

The first pose is just DMA Curt being very bored or annoyed with a certain evil guy’s speech.

The second is DMA Curt right before Torture Tango, “So you’re the famed Owen Carvour? I’ve gotta say I was a bit worried we’d never meet after you went into retirement.” (Bestie trying really hard to keep it cool y’all)

Last picture is after the reveal and Curt is feeling a lot of things about it. “Don’t look at me like that! I ruined everything! You should hate me!” Owen probably giving him the saddest heart eyes.

[smytherines]

I was looking for stuff to maybe use for fun littoe picture projects and I came across this on the SAF imdb page and I'm simply never going to recover

[itsjusteds]

The WAY SPY ANOTHER DAY DID ONE STEP AHEAD AUGH

I loved it. The acting choices felt fresh and yet still held true to the characters that we know and love. I love that Owen chose to be closer to Curt in some parts as a teasing thing because that petty wanker totally would

Curts little reach out to Owen, while it was short HOLDS SO MUCH MEANING. It shows that he wants Owen, he needs Owen back, but he can't have him. So for only a second he'll cave to that voice in his head that wants Owen back before remembering that this isn't his Owen. Not anymore.

"Feeling a lot of deja vu again" AND THEY DID THE ARM THING AUGH THE THING THAT SYMBOLIZES THEIR TRUST.

GOD JUST KISS ALREADY OMG PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE THE AMOUNT OF HOMOEROTIC TENSION IS INSANE

[kairithemang0]

Ugh trans Curt goes stealth and has only told Owen he's trans and Owen's seeing his chest scars for the first time and reaches out to touch them and Curt swipes his hand away, telling him they look ugly and that he hates them, and then Owen says he loves them, and Curt asks him why and Owen replies with "there's nothing about your body that could ever make me hate it" and Curt DIES. His heart stops, his brain breaks, and he hears a ringing in his ears before Owen brings him back to reality by dragging his finger across the scars with a warm smile on his face and Curt buries his head in his shoulder

[spyruce]

thinking about how fucked up curtwen is and how we don’t always account for it

Personally, I think as a group we give Owen way too much slack and empathy. The events of the show may have been kickstarted by Curt, I’d but Owen’s equally at fault if not more. I also think we put way too much in that they were actually so close pre-canon. Their relationship is a product of their situation, not because they we’re perfect for each other. They both had MASSIVE ego issues, and dialogue in A1P1 and One Step Ahead shows that they BOTH have/had massive egos. They clashed, but they were all the other had. At the very least, they understood each other’s situation, but it’s not like they had options.

The reason why I and many others still jump on the bandwagon of this absolute mess of a relationship is just because like… they’re fun. Realism and plot aside who doesn’t wanna take stock in a “found love in a world that doesn’t allow it” in both their sexualities and their lifestyles. The thought that they would chose each other anyway even if it was modern times and could be with anyone else is engaging. They’re traumatized and have cute banter and we’re given so little of pre and post canon to work with that we can do whatever the hell we want. Do I think there’s any good reason Curt should’ve let Owen live at the end of the show? Absolutely not. (Like actor Curt Mega himself said, it was kinda equivalent to putting down a dying dog out of its own misery.) But redeeming Owen in fanworks despite this is fun, so who gives a crap?

So that’s my take on it. Canon Curtwen is an unstable mess that was always on borrowed time, but adding layers and flair to what they have in the musical using little lines of dialogue and reasoning to justify it is uhhhh really stupid fun!! So I spend my free time drawing them being cutesy together anyway.

[bow-of-aros]

One Minute More

Summary:

What if Agent Curt Mega set the timer on the bomb for four minutes instead of three?

Yeah I watched Spies Are Forever again and was seized with a desperate need to make everything better. Also, this was supposed to be like 1k words at most. I just need them to be okay SO BAD. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!! Hope that y'all enjoy <33

Owen fell.

God, what had Curt been thinking?! He hadn’t, is what Owen would tell him. He’d gotten all arrogant and cocky and dropped a banana peel next to a safety guard that he’d dismantled like a fucking idiot.

Curt nearly threw himself down after Owen as he lunged to catch him. His arm was outstretched as far as it would go and he could feel the brush of Owen’s fingertips against his own as he fell out of reach. Blood rushed in his ears, but he could still make out the shape of his name on Owen’s lips before he connected with the floor.

For a moment, everything froze. Curt had the blueprints and the timer on the bomb was set for four minutes, three of which had surely passed by now. He should leave, Cynthia would expect him to put himself and the information over the life of who she thought of as merely an ally.

But then his eye caught on the banana peel that was still up here when Owen wasn’t, then on the still open safety barricades that Curt had forced Owen to leave, and everything snapped back into focus.

This was his fault, and he was not leaving without his partner.

The sound of the sirens blared through the air, punctuated by panicked screams and gunshots that were far too frantic to come anywhere close to hitting their mark. Curt refused to waste another second as he slid down railings and skipped steps, taking risks with even less abandon than usual.

He ducked as some pissed off Russian scientist took note of him and fired a few direct shots that embedded themselves into the wall right behind him. Curt dropped down low, quickly lined up his aim, and took him out with one clean shot to the head.

The stairs shook around him, his subconscious clock alerting him that he had maybe fifty seconds before the silo came down on top of him.

Stupid. Curt was being so stupid.

But then his eyes flickered down and caught on Owen’s prone form, kept from an even more fatal fall due to being caught on a half-closed safety guard. He’s never been more grateful for anything in his life than he was for Owen’s insistence to spare the rest of the silo from harm in this moment.

Suddenly, the breath was knocked out of him, and it was hard to tell whether it was from the burly guy throwing him into the wall, or the fact that Curt could’ve sworn that he just saw Owen draw in a breath.

A fist drives itself into his gut and he decides that it’s probably a mix of both.

“Get the fuck out of my way.” Curt doesn’t even bother with any of the fancy gadgets he has on him, opting for a swift uppercut that has the man stumbling back followed by pouring all of his fear and desperation into a kick to his chest that sends him flying over the railing.

He doesn’t even wait to see him fall past Owen before he’s on the move again, shoving, shooting, and stabbing his way through the hysteria.

That isn’t to say that nobody lands any hits on him. Curt’s pretty sure that he has at least two fractured ribs, is bleeding from a various assortment of knife wounds, and would guess that the burning across his arm is from a bullet. He can’t tell if it’s a graze or fully lodged into bone, and it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except getting to Owen.

Thirty seconds, a voice whispers, and Curt’s heart sinks.

There’s still two more sets of stairs to go down and several people intent on killing him coming up them.

An idea pops into his head, and Curt doesn’t let himself think twice before he jumps.

As he falls, his first thought is that Cynthia is going to kill him for this if he doesn’t die either from the impact or the sheer dumbassery of his actions catching up to him and he just misses the mark entirely. But he’s taken worse risks with less on the line before, and he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He was taught how to fall, which sounds silly, but in his line of work being thrown large distances for any reason was one of the many hazards he had to adapt to. It’s all instinct now, he relaxes as much as he’s physically able to before landing on the balls of his feet.

As the sharp pain of impact begins to shoot up his legs, he falls onto his side, bringing his arms up to guard his head as he rolls away from the edge.

Twenty-five seconds.

Curt scrambles to his feet and, yep, his ankles are twisted at best, but he’s going to wring every last drop of adrenaline coursing through him to get them out of here. He grabs Owen’s nearly fully-loaded gun and takes out the people on the stairs sill looking down at him in shock in quick succession.

Being the best shot in the American Secret Service has its benefits.

Twenty seconds.

Owen’s heavier than he thought he’d be. Dense muscle disguised by a lithe frame and the phrase dead weight hits Curt like truck. Sure, he’s carried Owen before, but he’s always had enthusiastic help from his partner.

That image is quickly pushed from his mind as the fear of never seeing it again seeps into him, and Curt focuses on steading Owen on his shoulder as he stumbles.

Fifteen seconds.

Each step sends pain roiling through him. The extra weight isn’t doing all his injuries any favours, especially the damage he’d wrought on his legs, but Owen’s called him the most stubborn bastard to grace the Earth and Curt intends on earning that moniker.

With one hand busy keeping Owen secured, the other one works to pull him up the railing as fast as he can physically muster.

Ten seconds.

Suddenly, Curt is hit with a sense of startling clarity. The room goes silent, everyone except him and Owen either gone or dead, the blaring alarm fading away and leaving only the staccato sound of his breaths as his company. The pain fades away and a sudden burst of energy surges through him.

Five seconds.

His legs pump in time with the ticking clock as he races up the steps. Curt swings himself around the final corner, just barely recovering his footing before crashing into a wall

Four seconds.

Just a few more steps and then Curt’s out the door with enough awareness to ensure that he doesn’t hit Owen’s head off of the doorframe.

Three seconds.

His legs threaten to buckle as the sky opens up around them, but he forces himself to keep going because, right now, every step counts.

Two seconds.

In a complete disregard of protocol, Curt doesn’t bother to speak in code when he flips on the small radio that Barb insisted he take with him.

One second.

“I need an emergency extract immediately. Owen’s—”

BOOM!

As they fly through the air, Curt’s last few moments of consciousness are spent tucking Owen into his chest and angling his back to the ground.

The cold Russian dirt rushed up to meet him and an unintelligible, high-pitched voice framed the impact that wracked his body.

At least I got Owen out.

And then it went dark.

Curt woke up and, for a brief moment, basked in the comfort of an actual bed.

And then Oh holy fucking shit why does everything hurt?!

His eyes shot open and immediately squeeze back shut after being assaulted with fluorescent lights. The second attempt is much more cautious, the bright room slowly filtering in through the gaps in his eyelashes before it felt safe enough to take it all in.

Immediately, Curt recognized one of the various American Secret Service medical facilities that they’ve managed to nestle in nooks and crannies around the world. It was only slightly better than a regular hospital comfort-wise, but at least the doctors and nurses wouldn’t question the various injuries that agents showed up with.

The steady beat of his heart monitor rings through the room with a faint echo.

Owen.

Curt nearly flung himself out of bed, tearing various tubes and wires out of his body and ignoring the muted agony that sears through him (Thank God for the painkillers he was definitely on because he would not be standing in any other circumstance).

Some sort of alert screeches down the hall, but it doesn’t matter because, at that moment, Curt’s eyes land on a bed on the far end of the room surrounded with even more machines than his was. He distantly heard the sounds of people running into the room, but he’d already staggered over and was looking down at a pale face framed by dark hair.

Owen looked like shit. He was covered in casts and stitches, essentially being held together by pins at this point. His breaths were shallow, the heart monitor beeping much slower than Curt’s had been. He looked uncomfortable, even in sleep, and his face was twisted up the way it normally did when he was having a nightmare.

It was the most beautiful thing Curt’s ever seen.

His legs gave up on supporting his weight and he slumped half over Owen’s bed, being careful to not jostle anything as various medical personnel burst into the room. They shouted at him, telling him to get back in bed, but he could already feel sleep calling to him, all energy seeping out of him with the knowledge that Owen was safe.

Curt managed to smooth a gentle thumb over the crease in his partner’s brow, sighing quietly when it seemed to soothe him into a deeper sleep.

He was out before the first doctor even crossed the room.

The second time he woke up wasn’t nearly as eventful.

It was a slow process, and almost pleasant, like gently sinking back into his body after floating weightless through the space between here and somewhere else.

And maybe he was a little high off the morphine they were pumping into him.

Curt turned his head to the side, exhausted body protesting every inch, until he was able to look at the bed beside him. Apparently the doctors hadn’t wanted a repeat of last time because now he and Owen were placed right next to each other, barely a foot apart.

His smile widened as he caught his partner’s eye. Owen was awake and looking significantly better than the last time Curt had seen him, a little bit of colour back in his cheeks did wonders.

Owen cast an amused look at Curt’s heart rate which had been steadily increasing the longer they gazed at each other before smiling back at him.

“Hey, Owe.” Curt’s voice was rough from disuse and he noticed a water bottle left beside him. He carefully opened it and took a sip, relaxing a bit from the relief on his dry throat. “It’s, uh, it’s good to see you.��

His partner’s grin softened and, with a quick look around, he flipped his hand palm up.

“It’s good to see you too, love.”

Curt took the hint, sliding his hand into Owen’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. When Owen squeezed back, however lightly, it sent and overwhelming surge of emotion through him and he felt his eyes burning.

“It’s okay,” Owen didn’t bother asking what was wrong, they knew each other too well at this point to bother with pointless questions, “You got us out. I’m safe. You saved my life and I’m going to be okay.”

Even with the reassurance, Curt could help but choke out a few tears.

“You almost weren���t though. You slipped on my stupid banana peel that I left even after you told me to get rid of it. And I didn’t let you close the security barricades back up like you wanted to. And—” He cut Owen off when he tried to speak, “I almost set the timer for three minutes instead of four.”

A look of confusion creeped onto Owen’s face. “What?”

Curt let out something between a sob and a laugh. “Yeah. I was standing there, looking at the bomb, and I wanted to show off a bit, you know? I wanted that extra thrill that came with pulling off something that I knew was fucking stupid.” He was clutching Owen’s hand too tight, but he didn’t say anything. “And then there was this voice in my head that sounded like you. It said ‘Don’t do that, old boy. It’ll only get us into more trouble than it’s worth.’ I almost didn’t listen to it, but I had this nagging feeling that wouldn’t go away and, well, I’ve always trusted you. Even when you’re just a voice in my head.”

He gave Owen a watery smile and brought up his free hand to wipe away the tears rolling down his face. “You would’ve died, and it would’ve been my fault.”

“Oh please.” Owen scoffed at that, shooting him a mock-offended glare. “I’m better than that and you know it. It would take more that a several story fall followed by an explosion to take me out.”

He looked contemplative for a moment. “Although, I hope you’ve learned your lesson and plan on actually listening to me from now on. That banana move was moronic and if it had been what did me in, I would’ve put my body back together just to hunt you down and kill you myself.”

They both laughed at the idea.

“Yeah,” Curt said, “Your supervillain origin story: Slipped on a banana and then got exploded. They’d make a comic out of you for sure.”

Silence fell over them, the knowledge that they were both here and alive finally having the chance to properly sink in.

Owen’s expression shifted into something a little more serious. “Curt—” He cut himself off, trying to find the words, “Thank you for coming back for me.”

What a ridiculous thing to say. “Of course I—”

“Ah ah,” Owen tutted, giving his hand a gentle tug “I wasn’t finished.”

Curt leaned back as much as he was able to when already lying down and raised his eyebrows. Well? Go on then.

“You could have left. In fact, I’m fairly certain that Cynthia would have demanded that you do so in order to preserve your life and the blueprints that you had acquired.” Tears were now glimmering in Owen’s eyes, and he took a breath to compose himself before continuing. “But you didn’t. You put yourself in grave danger and through grievous bodily harm to get me out of there. Though Lord knows how you managed to pull it off with the time you had left.”

Curt remembers the sight of Owen sprawled out unnaturally below him. He would’ve done anything to save him.

A thumb rubbing over the back of his hand draws him back into the present and he look back at Owen. Owen with his crooked smile and his soft brown eyes and his hands that hold Curt like he’s something that’s meant to be cherished.

“I suppose that what I am getting at is that I love you, Curt Mega. I truly, truly love you.”

And… Wow. It was like fireworks erupted within Curt at those words. They hadn’t said them yet, maybe afraid that it would make what they had too real. Something that they couldn’t come back from.

But now, looking over at the man that Curt had spent the past few years fighting alongside, getting to know and treasure and love, he knew that he wouldn’t want to come back from it even if he could.

“I love you too, Owen Carvour. I’d throw myself down that silo for you even if I had set that timer for three minutes.

They stayed there for a while longer, simply basking in the glow of still having the other at their side, until a doctor came bustling in and Curt had to quickly withdraw his hand and tuck it safely away at his side.

She chattered at them and, while most of it was medical jargon that flew right over Curt’s head, Owen’s eyes were shining with something like hope, and he knew that they would get through this.

Then, Owen caught his eye, and the small quirk of his lips told Curt that he knew it too.

They could do anything as long as long as they did it together.

After all, spies are forever.

[szollibisz]

me? done with the comic? yes???????

this is my first longer comic after the staircase scene one i did at the beginning of the year and I'm really happy with my improvement honestly :D

also this is my longest comic at 24 pages which is like, damn i really love these spies don't i

reblogs are really appreciated for this one it was a lot of work :]

[justarandombrit]

Uhhhhhhhh I have an entire Google doc of Startinwrecked shipfics based on prompts that I haven't uploaded anywhere. I don't actually know if anyone wants to read them so. Poll!

Extra info in tags!

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 1: Pre Canon/London <3 :)

[missholloween]

tell me about crossnamera. To be honest, they’ve never really clicked with me but the fic I’m planning has them be together and I wanna do it well.

Okay, so this will probably be long.

For me, one of the things that make me love crossnamara is about the trust they had with each other.

We don't know much about their relationship pre-portal: Wilbur was MacNamara's mentor, he taught Macnamara all about the creatures he would later leave him to serve. By the way they speak about the other, they might've spent a lot of time together, working on different missions, getting to know the other. Maybe they shared some drinks, maybe they shared some secrets that no one else could understand. After all, not everyone would believe them if they talked about the paranormal, the extraterrestrial or the interdimensional.

Moreover, they might have had other secrets they shared. On one hand, MacNamara is confirmed to be queer by the Langs. On the other, Wilbur reads as the same type of antagonist as Owen, that is, a queer villain (I hc there's something funky going on with his gender too, but that's for another day). By being two queer men working for the government in the early 2000s, they could not only see someone like them (as people wouldn't be as out as they are today), but also they could see someone like them in a field not made for them. They'd have another person to go to.

However, what makes their relationship so interesting to me is how, even if there is/was a deep bond between them, their convictions are greater than any of their feelings. Wilbur will always turn to the Lords in Black, as he believes they'll liberate him and humanity. On the other hand, even if John once loved the person that called himself Wilbur Cross, he'd never let the world die for him. Their love is very important, but, when the chips are down, it won't make much of a difference. Maybe their conversations will be softer, maybe they'll kill the other in a fastest way than they'd do with others, but facing their former partner won't make them stop.

Although during their face-downs they will do what they have to do, I also think they are haunting presences in the other's life. MacNamara sees Wilbur in new cadets and old threats, remembering the person he knew before the portal. Wilbur remembers the man he once trained when he tricks younger folks to enter a world too big for them. It's about absences, and what might be built on them (I also love the headcanon that Wilbur and John switched tags before the portal incident and they've kept them).

TL;DR them..... I need the Langs to give us more info about what happened in 2005, because there's so much (angst) potential.

[perksofbeingpoet]

screaming giggling kicking my feet because THEY'RE SHARING CLOTHES THIS IS NOT A DRILL CURT IS WEARING OWEN'S SHIRT AAH

[uhhhitsme]

luckily for you, @kairithemang0 this is a lot shorter because i have so many points for this that im saving for an analysis post later on so you are getting a VERY very abridged version

okay. the artist TECHNICALLY wrote this song about being in a failing and toxic relationship and not knowing how to leave, but. fuck that. to me, this song is also about uncertainty, and the fear of another person leaving them. at the beginning, it sort of describes what im pretty sure is the afterglow of a night together. throughout the song, the singer describes their fear about the lover leaving them:

want to shout out the "i give myself to help you get by" because it further illustrates the terror of unmatched feelings between the two that i reference in the last one, that i WILL be making a post about later. i think this song works best from owen's perspective because of the next verse, and here there's the part about giving himself---showing so many vulnerabilities that owen, who is naturally closed off and appears less emotional than curt is, likely is afraid to show, but gives to curt---and what if it's for nothing? what if he gave so much of himself away, for nothing?

then:

OK. THIS IS THE PART THAT USUALLY THROWS PEOPLE OFF AND MAKES THEM GO "OH THIS SONG IS ABOUT THEM WANTING TO SEPERATE" AND I TELL YOU YOURE ALL WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!! ALL OF YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! to me, this from owen's perspective makes the most sense because---well. we see in a1p1 that pre-fall, he's very practical on the job. survival orientated. he actively seeks out locking the safety barricades despite the two of them being perfectly confident in their abilities to escape, for protection---just in case. and what he has with curt? i don't think i need to go on another ten page analysis explaining exactly what is dangerous about it.

owen, the logical one, the reasonable one---he knows that this is dangerous. and that he shouldn't stay, that they're both only going to get hurt, that he would be better off without curt. that he would be safer alone. but he can't find the nerve to do it. not with how much he cares about curt. so fuck you all THIS IS A CURTWEN SONG I SAY IT IS