Agent Curt Mega - Tumblr Posts
the meanest coworkers you know are shit-talking you on their break RIGHT NOW
autism be damned these spies are forever
in a dream you saw a way to survive by clementine von radics x spies are forever
blue hour mission break time
this took way too long but i'm very happy with it <3
its actually veeeerrry easy to write a male character you just have to make sure hes scantily clad and has a heart as big as his tits
you’ll change your name or change your mind, and leave this fucked up place behind, but I’ll know, I’ll know…
So over the course of the last couple of days I have watched both A1P1 and Doing This several times, sometimes on 0.5 playback speed to take screenshots. Just so many screenshots. And the thing that really hits so hard for me is the... gender of it all?
Here's the thing. Curt and Owen flirt pretty much nonstop throughout A1P1 (especially if you believe Curt did know it was Owen in disguise, which I'm 50/50 on). And it seems really easy for Curt. He has that swagger, that confidence, the smile, its all very genuinely charming and you can definitely see why he and Owen got together. He seems not just comfortable in his skin, but thriving. He has someone who knows who he is. He doesn't have to put on an act with this person.
But in Doing This (and in the Casino scene, which I did screenshots for last week), it's all the most obscenely awkward thing in the world. There's I dunno 15 seconds or so where Curt looks distressed over thinking that Tatiana wants to *ahem* do it. But in the space of a just a few frames he goes from that look of pure panic to this incredibly cheesy Walmart book bin romance cover guy.
Its a gender performance that feels very noticably off. Its like he snaps into a role. The poses, the mugging, it's all very.... rehearsed. And maybe it worked with women who aren't spies, and maybe he was better at pretending before he lost Owen, but he is very obviously pretending.
And in this specific instance I don't think it's an issue of losing his rizz (as the kids call it). He's trying to act the way he thinks a straight man would act. Trying on this version of masculinity that simply does not fit him. And the more he tries to contort himself to make it fit, the less stereotypically masculine he comes across. Whereas in A1P1, when he was really flirting with someone he was really attracted to, that came across as very stereotypically, effortlessly masculine.
And once they kiss and Tatiana immediately clocks him as gay and tells him she's cool with it, the body language changes again to just pure relief. This guy who has had to spend his whole life pretending to be something he isn't, who lost the one person in his life who really knew him, and finally he has someone else in his life that he doesn't have to pretend around. Just... I dunno, the difference in body language is so poignant to me. I love how this show is built around so many subtle little storytelling moments.
I truly love your fanfiction, it is amazing!
Your docket is already probably pretty full and I’m not sure if this is too complex or just not a good prompt but this idea keeps buzzing around my head and I’m not a good enough writer to write it myself so I thought I might as well ask.
What if Curt went back in time to before the fall and was able to change his actions so Owen was fine in this timeline. However Curt is haunted by the memory of the monster his partner became in the original timeline. He tries not to let it show because it’s not fair to this Owen but sometimes he can’t help himself.
Hi anon!
First of all, thank you!! Second, I know I'm running on a pretty full roster rn what with the.... Everything, but a vast majority of everything that ends up in my inbox gets written at some point! So let me see what I can do!
"So… What, this is a do-over?"
Curt didn't so often find himself in a good enough mindset to consider what Barb was doing these days. Every day had been a barricade of emptiness, of feeling so insatiably alone in his thoughts because there was something so formerly present in his life just… Missing, and that was hard to come to terms with. He had tried to cope since digging his grave with his own two hands, but that wasn't easy either. Just cope, as if that was something that could be done. Just cope, as if he had any say in the matter.
Just cope, like every fiber of his being wasn't aching to do something right by him, even just to have the capacity to say his name out loud. For all he'd haunted him in the last four years, he deserved better than to be left to the formless void that currently made up Curt's mind.
When Barb suggested something that had been prevalent in her research for longer than he'd been paying attention, he finally got a little bit of his spark back. She was suggesting to him a way to do everything over, to start from the beginning and make sure that none of this shit ever happened in the first place. On one hand, it wasn't fair, because Curt had been thoroughly haunted for years now, to the point where he'd convinced himself that the best course of action was literally to kill the love of his life in point blank range. He'd lived with the ghost of that man for longer than he cared to admit, and it had become more and more obvious by the day.
Those who said he was digging himself deep into the throws of his own depression were wrong. Those who said he drank to forget were wrong, too. This was all about getting rid of the past, sure, but he knew that he'd never be able to forget it.
Still, Barb's idea of a do-over was very tempting, and it wouldn't be the first time that Curt had given himself up for the sake of testing out some new theory of hers. Maybe one day he would even learn to recognise the effects of what he'd done to himself by letting her run her hypotheses on him… But, today was not that day.
She nodded, confident that she knew what she was doing. It took a lot to see through what she had once felt for Curt, especially given that it was so obvious that he was anything but okay over what he'd had to do, and that had led to a whole number of open doors and things he wouldn't have admitted to anyone else.
"Yep. That's what it should be, anyway. You're gonna go back to '57, and… Just like you said, you're gonna get a chance to do it all over again. I don't know if this is the right idea, Curt…. I mean, that date?"
"You asked me to pick," Curt answered, a little too sharply for a man as nervous as he was. "And I've made my choice. June 12th, 1957."
"Okay, I just wanted to know you were sure you'd rather go… There than anywhere else."
"Barb… I want to fix things. I want to be the one to make things right, in the one way I never got the chance to. Would you give me that much, please?"
He was going to take the place of his idiot former self. He was going to swap out, and pretend like he had been there the whole time, and that all of this was meant to happen. By no means was he ready for it, but he'd managed to convince his aching mind that he was. God damnit, he couldn't even bring himself to think of his former partner's name without opening up a wound that was never meant to be there, and he deserved better than that. He deserved the honour of being known, the pleasure of staying alive following the avoidance of certain obstacles.
All of those obstacles were his fault. He knew fine well that he was the only person capable of not making those mistakes again, of saving him, even if he couldn't save himself.
"Okay, Curt. June 12th, 1957…. Good luck out there."
Curt managed something of a smile, and held his hand up in a mock salute. He took a breath, rounded his shoulders, and tried to remember exactly what conditions he was going to be letting himself into.
1957 was exactly as he remembered it to be. This facility, the one that he was standing in front of now, was exactly as he remembered. Only… This one was in tact. Not yet blown to the ground by a series of bad miscalculations and a judgement which— again— rested entirely on his shoulders. There were certain things that he knew he had to fix, and he tried to work them out over and over again, just to make sure he had the right course of action here.
He had to stop himself from setting the explosives timers to three minutes. That one had been the most fatal mistake, the one that had cost him the most. He was allowed to at least keep the decision to blow the place to the ground, because without that decision, they'd have both been caught, and imprisoned, and the torture would've been real that time, rather than a mockery put on by the world's most incompetent man and one who was only pretending the whole time.
But, to counter that, he had to ignore the need to counter the point about the safety barricades, because then even if the worst did happen again, they'd be ready for that eventuality, and it wouldn't be so bad.
Most important of all, he had to stop himself from taking that goddamned snack break in the middle of the job. That fall was caused by that. Caused by him believing wholeheartedly that such a menial little step wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things.
God, thinking about it like that had really made him realise how badly he'd fucked up. How right he was to blame himself for all those years, even if there was a small part of himself trying to run that it couldn't have possibly all been his fault.
Because it was, wasn't it?
Okay. Couple things to remember, but all should be fine. Take the blueprints, eliminate the chance of being followed by the ….. present Agent Mega, and make the escape without any of those slipups. Simple.
"Simple," he muttered to himself, solidifying his plan in his head. This was going to be easy. This was a sitch, he had this in the bag, and he'd had more than enough time to think about it since he'd done it the last time, so he was convinced that this was going to go better. This… Could not possibly be as bad as the last time.
Getting rid of his double was the surprisingly easy part. He'd made sure that nobody could find the bastard, and that would count doubly for when the place was blown to the ground. That was one part of the track covered, and he already felt a little better about what he was about to do because of that. If the first part— disposing of a version of himself that was arguably more capable and less prone to the throws of alcoholism— was that simple and went that smoothly, then he had hope that the rest of it would be just as smooth.
He took the blueprint file and slipped it into the inner pocket of the leather jacket he'd travelled in. It wasn't the same getup he'd been wearing previously, but it was certainly more comfortable and a little more bearable too. New outfit, new course of actions, new outcome. That's how it worked in his head, and it made a whole deal more sense than it had any right to.
Making his way through the halls of the facility was the hard part. He knew he was bound to get caught at some point, because this had all happened before, and it probably didn't matter where, because as far as he was aware, they already knew that he was in the facility, so it was only a matter of time before—
"Ha! Agent Curt Mega himself! And here I thought they were joking about you…"
A voice from behind him. Not one he thought he'd heard before, but this particular patch of his past had been rather blurred over by the rock bottom that he'd hit not two months after the first time he'd found himself in this situation. He raised his hands slowly, not bothering to turn around. Getting caught, that was a constant. That was the only way he could start to get out in the right company, and the only way he could set everything else into motion.
He felt the barrel of a gun press against the back of his head, as the agent dared to get a little bold and crossed the distance between them. If Curt was trying to do exactly as he had last time, he'd have put up a fight until they had no choice but to flip that gun and give him a hefty blow to the side of the head. This wasn't that time, though, and he knew exactly what he had to do to set everything up right. So, true to a nature that nobody saw coming from him, he went peacefully.
All was going exactly as smoothly as he'd expected. He'd ended up with the same poor bastard who didn't really know what he was doing, and it was just the two of them alone for a while. Perfect opportunity to throw a few meaningful insults his way and pretend he wasn't already aware of how little damage this man could actually do. He swore that guy bruised his knuckles trying to land a good blow to the face… Where did they dig up agents like that?
It hit a block when he heard another someone enter the room from behind, and chuckle to himself. The laugh alone was enough to turn his blood to lead, but the voice that came after was a lot worse, and almost sent him into shock despite the fact that he knew exactly what was coming, when it should've been coming.
"You're even stronger than your reputation suggests, Mr Mega…"
That accent wasn't so much of a botch job as he recalled, but it still sent a deep shiver running all the way down his spine. Not so much because the man was intimidating at all, or knew how to make an impact, but because that voice and whichever identity it went with came back to one man and one name. One true voice. One true set of personal history that really did not have it's benefits, as far as Curt was concerned.
Owen Carvour.
It was painful to think of him as alive, after he'd spent years convincing himself that he was dead. It was painful to be here right now, feeling the wrap of chains digging into his wrists and knowing there was nothing he could do to get away from hearing that voice again. For once, he couldn't run. for once, he had to stop, and he had to think. He couldn't let himself seem suddenly afraid, or anything that wasn't the suave confidence that he'd portrayed the last time this went down, because then Owen would ask about it in the event that he did actually let him go.
The last time Owen was behind him in this positon, he was dead set on actually killing him, on making that impact he had seemed so incapable of in this facility, and making sure Curt bled for his mistakes. That would never happen again. Because Curt knew he was going to fix this. Because Curt— who had already seen all of the mistakes and all of the consequences— was not going to come all the way back here and end up fixing nothing.
He had to save Owen. If nothing else, the two of them were going to make it out alove tonight, and he didn't care what the price was.
He put on a cocky little smirk, and looked over his shoulder at the disguise Owen was wearing that near enough managed to fool him something chronic. God, he really was so good at this, wasn't he? He really was such a fantastic actor, and he really did relish in it… He was right, he was definitely cut out for the stage.
"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this…"
Curt was trying to keep himself together, to try and keep from passing out. It was getting more and more difficult by the second, but he was trying, and that had to account for something. The man behind him was a stranger by all accounts, and there was nothing about him that would even suggest that the two of them had met before, yet… This wasn't the first time he'd mentioned this supposed grudge match that he had against him.
He tensed, trying to focus on one thing at a time, and trying desperately to ignore the fact that there was something painfully personal behind each of the mad assassin's words. That they didn't themselves cut and leave a mark. That there was something between them that he could never figure out.
This Owen hadn't killed so many people in cold blood, and he didn't delight in torturing the life out of him. And he was never going to be that man, either. Curt knew he should feel relieved at that, but all that remained in his chest was a stagnant, dormant panic, waiting to erupt.
Keep it together, Mega.
"That so? Well, that all depends on what they're saying about me, doesn't it?" He managed, in the smoothest, most put-together tone he could, one that well matched the smirk pulling at his lips.
The fake Russian hummed, his eyebrows raising. "They say you're quite formidable. I was ready to prove them wrong, but it seems I have my work cut out for me, no?"
"Do your worst."
This back and forth was familiar to him, as was every stage of the so called "torture", which really wasn't painful so much as it was vaguely irritating and very funny. That poor agent they'd recruited didn't know what he was doing in the slightest, and it took all of Curt's energy not to laugh whenever something went wrong.
Eventually, Owen had "taken what he wanted" out of the interrogation, and lined up the barrel of his gun. Curt could see that it was pointed at him, just as it was last time. That was a false sense of fear, striking him while he was supposedly "vulnerable", but this time, it struck a little more of a chord than probably intended.
"I am going to single handedly dismantle EVERYTHING you ever believed in!" Owen dared to step down, closer towards Curt, and pushed the unwavering barrel of his gun straight out towards Curt's forehead. In that exact moment, Curt wished he would just pull the trigger, and be done with the heartache for another day. Add another number to his already expansive tally, and move on.
He said the only thing he thought he could in the moment, the only thing his mind would let him say.
"We used to share those beliefs…"
He closed his eyes, hoping to god that this wouldn't have a different outcome this time, that he hadn't accidentally brought back the ghost of Owen to torment him all over again in a way that was more real.
But no, it was exactly the same as last time. Owen lowered his gun, the incompetent henchman was shot twice through the knees, and then Owen was once again behind him and setting him free before the bastard could even hit the ground.
"Owen-" Curt breathed, hoping that he was able to pass it off as relief that all of that was finally over, and not as the fact that he had been genuinely worried that Owen would shoot him while he couldn't defend himself. He needed to pick himself up. He couldn't let himself carry on knowing that the dead Owen still lived on in the confines of his mind. He'd finished that job himself, he was not going back to it now.
"You goddamn bastard, really let him loose on me, didn't ya?"
"Took me a while to find you, I'm afraid… But even after that, it's always rather fun to watch people try and knock some sense into you, don't you think?"
There was a teasing edge to Owen's tone, one that Curt had so sorely missed over the last years. He stretched out his back, ignoring the way that his wrists felt, and then accepted his gun from Owen. This was starting to feel familiar again, and he liked it. Now was only the getting out part, and he'd been running his instructions to himself since he'd gotten there, so he knew exactly what he had to do to ensure that this Owen— the Owen that was willing to laugh with him, and share his missions, and toast to the end of it all— stayed alive no matter the cost.
That, after all, was the only reason he'd come back.
"Sure, sure… When are you ever gonna let me do this shit to you?"
"Good luck catching me, first."
The time came for he and Owen to make their escapes through the compound. Owen was the one who led the way, as he always did, looking like he was making up a plan on the spot. Curt once again got that call from Cynthia, the one where she sung Owen's praises as she did every time the two of them had the chance to speak, and once again told Barb that he had to blow up the entire facility.
While that did throw Owen off his rhythm a little, he was able to regroup in good enough time to formulate a different direction to all of this, and Curt was listening so intently to the every intonation in his voice that he completely forgot to take the snack break in the first place. His voice sounded so wonderful when it wasn't broken by years of trying to be someone else. He'd forgotten how rich it was, how full of intent his every word was… When he realised that he'd missed it off completely because he was too engrossed in literning to Owen actually talk to him with intent again, the two of them were on the floor, ready to set up their charges.
Still, Curt wasn't going to be one to back down from a challenge… He was just going to… Listen to Owen this time, give them that extra minute.
He started unzipping the bag on the ground, looking between all of the handmade explosives devices they were going to be using to blow this place to kingdom come, and with it, hopefully, all of the memories that came with a knowledge of the future. "Hey, Owen." How he'd missed just getting to say his name like that, and to someone who would respond to it as well? "Remember our record?"
"Sorry?"
"Y'know, our record. Last one was Berlin, I think. We got outta there in six minutes or something.. Think we can beat it? How about five?"
Owen deliberated on that for a while, trying to decide whether five minutes was really a fitting definition of breaking their record. They needed to go above and beyond for this, and go out in a blaze of glory if Curt was really that insistent upon blowing the place up. He shrugged. "Not enough… Four?"
"Four?" Curt raised his eyebrows like he was surprised, or impressed. "That's the spirit! Four, if you think we're gonna make it out in time."
"Sure we can. Do you doubt it?"
A little. He'd seen how badly three minutes could go for them both, adding only a minute extra didn't seem like it was going to cover what they needed to cover. Suddenly there was doubt there, and he thought Owen could see it too. "How about I meet you halfway?"
"Four and a half?"
"Four and a half still breaks our record," Curt pointed out.
"That is true…" Owen hummed, toying with the idea of it. Then he nodded, satisfied. "Four and a half minutes it is, then. What's that… Two hundred and… seventy seconds?"
The bomb timers were set to seconds. The two of them had to convert as fast as they could, come up with a number they could both agree on, and then lock that in. When he put it like that, it sounded awful, like they had no time at all, but Curt supposed that it was much better than a mere one hundred and eighty.
"Two…. Seventy, yeah. Three hundred's five minutes, right? So yeah?"
Owen nodded dutifully, and the two of them set about locking in the times in their respective areas. Curt felt strangely assured this time around, that things were finally starting to look up. He'd campaigned for more time, and that felt like the right move to him. That felt like something he knew he should be doing.
They passed the charges between each other, covering a lot of ground all at once. Owen made the suggestion to lock the barricades, but Curt said nothing at first, lost in his own head a little bit. He knew that protesting was the wrong move. They needed those barricades to get them by if something was to happen to either of them, and now that they had a little more time on their hands, they may have actually been able to do something about it if the worst was to come to pass.
"Curt?"
"Barricades… Remind me?" He asked as if he didn't already know, and Owen sighed. That was fair, but he needed to know what they did, so he knew how much of a correct measure it was to not ignore the request.
"They're the levelling doors on the silo, they'd prevent either of us from being pursued, and besides, it might be useful if you're planning on levelling this whole place… Might stop some accident or other."
"Right. And you can do that?"
Owen shrugged. "Should be easy enough… I see no reason why I couldn't."
"How fast?"
"Fairly fast, I'm rather confident with what I'm seeing."
"Okay. Do what you gotta."
That was definitely the right move. Curt smiled a little as he passed Owen on the way back to the main floor, and Owen looked up for a brief moment and managed a smile of his own. This was one fight that— after all this time and all that thinking about it— Curt was finally going to win. Tonight, he was not going to lose Owen. Tonight, he was going to walk out of here with his head held high, and Owen was gonna be right there by his side.
Curt Mega and His Inability To Keep The People He Cares About From Dying ™
curtwen au doodles from this morning
Did I share the bottom 2 already??? I don’t remember. But I love them. Haven’t drawn GA!O in a bit and I’ve missed him. Anyways yeah I’m obsessed
@aldosesweets and I's werewolf Curt/vampire Owen au <3 They're silly and Curt is just a dog <3
Thinking about an universe where Curt was the one that slipped in his own banana piel and "died" and how I still think Owen would have gone at least a bit to the evil side because I think that while Kurt got stuck in the pain and guilty stage of grieve Owen would be stuck in anger and barganing and blame the spy world.
hi spies tumblr :)
have a little something I'm cooking up 🤲
I have a single snippet too, but I cannot stop thinking about this au, so there will definitely be more soon (I'm normal about thief Owen I promise I'm so normal)
(tw for blood and injury)
transcript for the pencil drawing:
Owen:
You're making a mistake, agent. Trust me on this one. You don't want this.
Curt:
What? You say that like I don't know danger... What makes you so bad?
Owen:
I'm a target. You'd be a target too if you let me stay.
I’m not really active in this fandom but saf swap au where Curt falls instead of Owen. But instead of Owen quitting spying like Curt did in canon he does the opposite and just. Burries himself in his work. Does he actually like his job anymore? Probably not. Actually I don’t think he wants to be there at all. But he tries to ignore that too. He’s one of the best spies in the world. He should’ve been able to save him. So there must have been something wrong with him if he wasn’t. So he needs to be better. He’s convinced that if he does well on enough missions, stops enough enemies, he’ll feel better. He’ll enjoy being a spy like he used to and stop feeling bad about Curt.
He won’t.
Since he would’ve never quit spying, when the plot starts Owen is having an easier time than canon Curt was, so that’s why he’s so caught of guard when someone (cough cough DMA!curt) can match his skills well enough to be an actual threat. Maybe that’s part of what tipped him off to DMA being Curt (I saw another swap au where Owen figures it out and that just seems accurate to me so yeah). I think that something about the way Curt’s acting would be what fully convinces Owen, but still his skills and the way he works, even changed by everything that happened, are just a little too similar to the man Owen once called his partner.
(I’ll be honest I haven’t watched SAF in a while so I don’t remember if this is actually makes sense for the characters but you see the vision right)
Forget meet the plastics
What part are you singing in the torture tango?
Curt: If Owen and I were drowning, who would you save?
Cynthia: You idiots can’t even swim?
Curt: It’s a hypothetical question. Who would you save?
Cynthia: My time and effort.