#<- going to continue putting all thoughts into this tag

[midnight-scrivener]

Hi! Just reblogging this as an example of one of the more convincing AI Slop videos I've seen recently. The man looks right, the motion and the water all seem to make sense. At first viewing, this is a very normal, sweet video! I absolutely saw it 2 or 3 times before my bullshit detectors started going off.

Once you start hunting for mistakes, things start to fall apart a bit more. In the beginning, the man's leg clips through the boat's rail as he walks towards the whale. And the configuration of the railing continues to change from shot to shot.

We never see the net actually unwrap from around the whale, it just sort of.... Pulls out of somewhere behind it. And the net itself doesn't have a clear, regular woven pattern. It looks almost cheated, like a texture in a game that's trying to give the idea of a net without mapping every line.

And perhaps most egregiously, the whale itself. It's constantly moving, and it does move, yaknow, whaleishly, and the general shape seems right. But at the start of the video it has a fin coming out of its chin, and at the end its eye is in a different place and its mouth is much smaller. The ai isn't suuuuper sure how a whale's like. Skin or skeleton works either, and the front of the mouth doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and the way that the whale's underside wrinkles goes up way too high by the end of the video.

This isn't to say that if you didn't notice before that it's your fault! I didn't either. The constant motion does a lot to hide the inconsistencies, especially if you're just viewing casually. But I've been seeing this video specifically crop up more and more on my social feeds, so I wanted to say something about it!

I'm not the first person to realize it's AI; the comments are full of similar thoughts. But my hope is that by putting this in a post and tagging it, people can start to filter it out.

And also. Perhaps unnecessarily. I do just want to add that this technology is getting more convincing every day in an era where powerful people are relying on misinformation and public complacency to further their agenda. It might be feel good animal videos now, but if you see a piece of media and it looks too good to be true, it's an important time to ask if it IS, and who benefits from the narrative it's presenting.

Stay safe!

[v1x3n]

REUNITE! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - mentions of torture, panic attacks and breakdowns.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

Days go by, long fucking days where you're practically stuck in this bed. You could get up and walk around but you didn't want to. You stared at the ceiling, kind of hoping it would fall down on you but it never came. Your face stuck in the same position for hours as you melted into the bare sheets of the hospital bed. A singular tear pricks down your cheek while you look towards the dying flowers that sit on your bedside table.

"Hi honey!" Your nurse walks into your room with some food clumped on the plate. You glance up at her with weak eyes. She places the food on your bedside table. Glancing at the withered flowers, she sighs. "They been in here recently?" Jane asks with a hint of disappointment. Your head shakes, not really wanting to even think about or even talk about them, let alone speak to them. "Listen, I know what they did to you was terrible and you probably never want to open that wound but-"

When you scoff and look away after the 'but', she continues talking. "...You should talk to someone about it. I'm not asking you to talk to them. Because god knows I wouldn't even look at them, but you should see a therapist. You do need one and you can't keep pushing away everyone who wants you to get better." Jane's sweet smile makes you acknowledge that there are nice people in this world.

"I-I uhm- I was forced to go to a session like within the first week of being here but they just..." you trail off, looking towards the flowers that had lost nearly all their life. Huh, you never thought you could relate to flowers.

"I understand, I do." She gently puts her hands on your knee. This time you don't flinch though. This time, memories didn't flash through your eyes - forcing you to relive the horrible things those fucking four put you through. This time, it was peaceful, it was comforting. "You should still give it another go, after what you went through - you need someone safe." Your nurse's thumb rubs against your knee as she speaks.

You take in her words, the lingering feeling of wanting to get better - to heal - stabs at your heart but you also wanted to show those fucking horrible four that this is what they fucking did to you. Not wanting to waste time getting better, if you even could, you knew deep down you'd always hurt. You wouldn't be able to trust anyone again - especially a man. What they did to you tore you apart.

So, you shrugged off your nurse's words before she let you be, to eat your hospital food. The slop slumped onto the plate looked so disgusting. The sandwich that you could tell would stick to the roof of your mouth was unappetizing. Honestly the food there made you less hungry. After sighing and shoving the meal to the bedside table, pushing the dead flowers off the wood so they splattered all over the floor. The hard floor was littered with wilted petals and the dark, pale green stems.

So here you are. Sat in another white fucking room, except there wasn't a lonely bed or flowers scattered across the floor. There were two cream couches and a massive window. And a woman wearing a tight pair of trousers, a white blouse with a blazer swept over the couch she was sitting on top of. The girl was holding a clipboard with text filling the papers. Her hair was straight and was neatly brushed - the total opposite of you. “Ah, y/n? Right? You can call me Jones." she smiled as you came into her viewline. You nod nervously as you swipe down on your little gown the hospital gave you. 

Multiple panic attacks. Your body was in pain. The wounds that litter your body - not to be healed ever again. Your 8 fingers that trailed over the stitched up cut across your cheek. The breakdown you had just a week ago. How you flinch when anyone (but Jane) gets close.

All of that flashes through your head while you sit opposite the women. "You're quite famous, you know?” the woman states. You tilt your head towards the left. 

“Oh?” you hum, looking around the room, clearly avoiding eye contact. She scribbles something quick onto a clean bit of paper, the one with text flopped over the top of the clipboard. “Heard about your ‘story’ a lot, from a lot of different people.” You slump against the sofa. Feeling the soft fabric beneath your fingertips. “Oh.” mumbling when your eyes finally meet hers for the first time. Her blue eyes connect with yours. A deep passion for helping was buried in her eyes. You could tell. 

“I haven't heard the story from the person who went through it all though.” Jones looks down at her clipboard, “why don't you tell me about it? How are you feeling?”

“What's there to tell?" you scoff. Sweat starts pouring from your forehead so you pull an arm that was littered with healing bruises up across it. Your question was not much of a question, more of a statement. What was there to tell? She knew the story, everyone fucking did. “Let's start with how's your day?” Jones smiled with a hint of amusement when your scoff reached her ears. “Fine.” She raised an eyebrow skeptically at your answer but didn't comment on anything. She leaned forward. Placing her clipboard on the seat beside her. 

Your figit uncomfortably, "that's.. all? Fine?” Jones questions, her voice hinting at suspicion. “Yep.” 

“You know if you aren't honest, I can't help you." 

After burying your head into your hands, you drag your cheek down with your palm as you let out a long sigh, "I'm doing better.” 

“Well that is good to hear,” she coos, reaching for her clipboard and writing down a few words in the margin. “Has anyone visited you lately?” Her question makes you hesitate for a moment. “Like family and friends?” Jones nods whilst leaning back.

Looking around the office you notice the way the woman in front of you tilts her head in the slightest when you shake your head. Her ramblings go on and on but you end up blurring them out. High squeaking forms in your ears, blinding out your therapist talking. 

That's when a loud bang sounds from the door that you entered through. It brings you back to life. You flinch back as the door opens. “Hey Jones, sorry 'm late just got outa trainin’” the blurred man walks through the door, holding tight onto a notebook. His scruffy appearance so familiar.

You wish you didn't have to face him yet.

“Your session is on a Thursday from now on, I told you-” she gets cut off when Johnny drops the book in his hands as he stares at you with wide eyes, his mouth opening slightly as fear shoots through your stomach and heart. The man before you mumbles one quiet word.

 “...Bonnie.”

[russellsppttemplates]

We learn to hold its hand (Charles Leclerc)

Two hearts that lost themselves in pain.

Two hearts that found eachother in love.

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time since I posted one of these, hopefully I still know how to do it 🥲 A lot of changes have been going on at my job and I've been trying to adjust to all of it without loosing my sanity and writinb has been a good escape! I know this is a heavy topic, so proceed carefully, but I was feeling like writing this so here it goes... For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: cancer, death of close relatives (reader's and Charles' father), grief, hospital procedures

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

"Bonjour papa", Charles greeted, running his hand over the photograph that was on the grave, "I just got back from the track where we did the testing for Sauber, the last one before the season starts. It's hard, but I'm not afraid", he gulped, "Because you taught me that, even if I'm afraid, I have to go with fear. To move forward, because that's the only way. In racing, I can do that, but I won't be able to continue my life without you because I won't be able to. I try. Every day, I try. For maman, especially, since she tries to be strong for me, Lorenzo and Arthur, and somewhere along the way, we gathered the strength we didn’t know we had, but when we realize it, there it is, supporting us. I'm sure it's you. Every day, I remember that afternoon when you taught me how to ride a bike. Your insistence on removing the training wheels from the big wheel that ended up with a wound on my knee and that made me scream a few times. I remember you telling me that there were worse things than that simple scratch. I never thought that one day we would have to face them and that they would be the main reason why you are no longer by my side", Charles wiped away the tears, while he couldn't help but smile at the beautiful memories that came back to him, "But more than that, I remember the day you put a kart in front of me for the first time. There, I knew it was love for life. Yes, like Francis Cabrel's song. Or that afternoon when I stepped onto the concrete of the best race circuit in the world. There, I knew that I would begin a story in which, even though I was the main character, I would never have been able to write all the chapters that have been completed so far without the help of your pen. That support, that dedication, that encouragement, that love, father. Without them, I would never be the Charles that I am today. There was so much left to say and so much to do. But I am grateful for everything we said and for everything we did. I remember you telling me that you could no longer be strong and you asked me to be. I miss you so much. I miss you so much that I cannot express in words. I just want to thank you for continuing to light my path and for being the best father in the world. You are not by my side, but you are on my side. I feel that, every day. Thank you for continuing to support me in every race and in every challenge that life throws at me. Thank you for being so present, even though you're so far away. I miss you every day. And I feel you with me every day. Je t'aime, papa", he says goodbye, standing up and shaking off the little dirt on his jeans.

He picks up his backpack and starts walking towards the cemetery exit, but a sweet, melodious voice makes him stop walking. Charles looks in its direction, observing a female figure who, sitting next to someone's grave, was quickly but skillfully strumming the acoustic guitar and, at the same time, singing the song he had included in today's conversation with his father. Je l'aime à mourir by Francis Cabrel. Charles smiles at such coincidence and turned his back, picking up his pace, but soon stopping again, feeling a great need to go and meet that girl whose voice conveyed the pain he knew so well - loss.

Charles swallowed hard and instead of walking away, he found himself getting closer and closer to the young woman who, judging by your physical features, was probably around his age.

He waited for you to finish the song to make myself present, since you hadn’t noticed him yet.

“I miss you every day, Lucas. I wish you were here. It would make everything so much easier", he heard you say, through tears, and he felt the impact of all her words. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t feel the same way.

Charles looks at the person you were visiting and his eyes almost popped out of his head when he notices the photo of a boy who couldn’t have been more than eight years old in that portrait. The date of death was twelve years ago.

"Who are you?", you ask.

Charles quickly woke up from his thoughts, focusing his gaze on you, now curiously appreciating him. The colour of your eyes, the way your hair fell down your back and your bare skin faacinaged him.

"Forgive me", he requested, a little embarrassed, "I heard you sing and I couldn't help but come here and tell you that you sing very well and that the person you dedicated the song to probably agrees with me", he replied and your shy laugh made him laugh too.

"Thank you", you offered, quite embarrassed, which was still funny, "He's my twin brother. He was eight years old when he left", you pointed to the portrait you had looked at moments before.

"My father. He passed away a couple of months ago", Charles decided to share the reason why he was also there.

"My brother had a rare blood disease, a cancer doctors were never able to identify. Chemotherapy and radiotherapy were not enough to cure him. In fact, the body of an eight-year-old boy could only handle so much at that time. I was the same age, but I will never forget my brother’s suffering and the strength he had until the end. My childhood innocence was taken from me that day. I am not an example to anyone. The true example of life left more than a decade ago, on a journey that still had a long way to go had it not ended the way it did", you said as you packed your things, letting your anger speak.

Charles noticed the crack in your voice and a few seconds later, he heard your sniffle.

The first instict he had was that he wanted to hug you in that moment and reassure you with just his arms, since words would never be enough comfort at a time like that. And at the same time, he felt that you needed to talk to someone who, being unknown and impartial, would never judge you for the anger you were experiencing.

"My father battled cancer for a few years but, unfortunately, he ended up losing the fight in July. However, the real winner is him. For so many reasons: for the way he faced the reality that was knocking on his door, for how he forced us to face it in the most positive way possible, so that it would become a little easier, and for the way he prepared us for his departure. He is a true hero. If, one day, I can be half the man and father that he was and is, you can be sure that I will leave this life happy", Charles spoke.

"They truly are the heroes who left early to prove that angels really exist", you said, looking at Charles intently in a way made him feel like an open book in front of the most beautiful reader he had ever seen in his life.

"I couldn’t agree more", Charles murmured, too caught up in the gaze of that twenty-year-old girl who was so much more like him than he had thought.

"Y/N", you held out your hand and he smiled at your introduction.

"Charles", he reciprocated, fitting his hand in yours, which you immediately shook.

And there, he knew that you were marked by the wound that would never heal and by the feeling that would never disappear: pain.

There, those two hearts that were lost in pain would be the same ones that would find each other in love.

.

Charles got up from the floor, after the usual daily conversation he shared with his father after training. He noticed you in the same position you had been in before, but this time, you were reciting poems from a small book you had in your hand, completely distracted from your surroundings.

It was the first time in almost three weeks that he had seen you again. You had stopped showing up at the same time as he did and for a moment he thought you were avoiding him. But he soon put those thoughts aside. After all, if you didn’t even know each other that well, what was the need?

“Y/N", Charles said as he approached you, alerting you of his presence.

You looked at him with a shy smile and immediately stood up as well, "I haven’t seen you around here since", he added and you laughed softly.

"In the last three weeks, I came in the morning, because of the internship I'm doing. I had to change schedules with a colleague and I couldn't come in the afternoon. Now everything is back to normal, so here I am", you explained and he nodded in understanding, "You never miss your schedule", you pointed out it was his turn to laugh.

"This is the best time for me to come because this way, I can spend more time with my father before the cemetery closes", Charles explains and you nod, "Hmm, I really like talking to you but, is it just me who thinks we're not in the best place?".

Your beautiful laugh makes him laugh too, "Without shadow of a doubt", you agreed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"I bet you're hungry", Charles assuredly and you laughed again.

"Very", you dmitted, blushing, which made him smile at your embarrassment, "the line at the bakery in front of where I work was too long and, I'm sorry, but patience has never been my strong point", you defended yourself and he giggled.

"So it's better to go without food...?", Charles quirked an eyebrow as he asked, surprised and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"I wouldn't go without food, obviously. I was just going to have to snack something later", you shrugged.

Once you stood outside the cemetery, you looked at each other intensely, not knowing what to say, "Would you accept an invitation for a snack?", Charles gathered the courage to ask and it was your turn to laugh at his shyness.

"Yes", your positive answer made him smile.

"Do you have a car?", he asked and you said no.

"Not yet. It’s at the mechanic’s", you made a face of disgust and Charles laughed, "the good news is that my father can pick it up at the end of this week. You have no idea how much I need it for my internship", you complained and Charles smiled at you relaxed way.

"Then you’re coming with me", he invited and you thanked him.

Charles lead you to his car and you smiled in gratitude when he opened the door for you so you could get in.

"And, if you’ll allow me, can I know what you study, Y/N?", Charles asked curiously, when you were already in line at the caffè, the place being chosen by the young woman during your journey, which had been made in a silence that Charles wouldn’t consider awkward but also not very comfortable. The awkwardness was still there.

"Radiology and radiotherapy", you replied, letting out a smile, "Twelve years ago, for a few months, I followed my brother's fight and was inspired by the humanity of those doctors and the team responsible for his case. The way he was treated, the constant encouragement in his recovery, the words and friendly shoulder they gave my parents, and even me, the way they prepared us for the worst and the way they accompanied us in our mourning, was truly human and truly inspiring. And there, I decided that this was something I would like to do in the future. I want to help others like they helped me more than a decade ago", you said proudly, earning a big smile from Charles.

You were interrupted when it was your turn to make the requests and respective payment. Charles insisted on paying the entire bill and you gave in, after much insistence from his behalf.

"Next time, you'll pay", Charles promised, as you walked aimlessly through the streets of Monaco.

"Will there be a next one?", you asked, laughing and Charles couldn’t help but look away from your shy eyes, "It’s a promise, then", you added and Charles looked at you again, already looking at him with a smile.

You ended up sitting on the lawn of a garden, finally digging into your food.

"And you? Can I know what you study?", you asked, equally curious and Charles laughed, still feeling a little satisfied that you didn’t know him as a Formula One rookie.

"I’m a race driver", he told you and you looked at him in surprise.

"What category? And which team?", you asked with interest and he smiled.

"The best in the world and the biggest one in racing", he replied, not wanting to say the team's name directly, because that way he would be able to know which one she supported.

"Do you race for Ferrari?", you asked and Charles smiled broadly, happy with what he had heard.

"I was in their academy last year", Charles confirmed and you smiled.

"How come I've never seen you there?", your curiosity and interest were something that satisfied him. After all, he wasn't the only one who wanted to know more.

"I was in Formula Two with Prema", he explained and her "makes sense", spoken in English, made him laugh.

"But tell me something. Are you regular at races?", Charles asked and you nodded.

"You could say that", you both laughed, "My father and grandfather were always

big racing fans. In fact, they are. And they passed that love on to Lucas", you smiled and looked down at the ground, "The few times he wasn't in the hospital, he was at the track. What he felt for racing was something I had never seen before. It was contagious. Everyone infected Lucas and he infected me. After his death, I promised myself to accompany my father and grandfather, and even go there alone, to every race that was done there. It was, and is, a way of feeling Lucas with me. That’s why I love racing so much", you looked at him with teary eyes, letting the tears fall when Charles brought his thumb to your face, caressing it.

"I’m sorry", you murmured and he quickly denied it, so that you would know that everything was okay.

"You’re inspiring, Y/N. I hope you know that", Charles offered.

You shook your head, smiling, "No, I don't think so. I’m just an eight-year-old child, in the body of a twenty-year-old girl who cries every night, wishing her brother was by her side", you spoke, with some difficulty, and Charles swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to comfort you.

"No, Y/N. You are a young 20-year-old woman who lost her brother at the age of eight and who, even today, is learning to deal with his absence", Charles said and you quickly wiped away the tears that were falling from your eyes, unable to help but sigh heavily.

"So, tell me, how does it feel to wear red? I clearly have been focusing in specific catehorues", you asked with a smile and Charles smiles at your change of subject.

"Incredible. It is a dream come true. I have no words to thank the trust that my team put in me, and how stepping into F1, even if it's not Ferrari, is a huge sense of responsibility, after all, you’re representing one of the best teams in the sport, the best in the world for me", Charles proudly answered your question, not avoiding remembering the day he signed his first professional contract with the unspoken promise and hope of a place in the Scuderia.

"How many years has it been?", you asked.

"I've been with the best the world for a few years", you both smiled.

“We could go watch the historic race this Saturday on the track just outside the city", you invited Charles and he smiled at you initiative, not hesitating to nod.

“I was already thinking of going, but now I’m really going to", Charles answered and you blushed.

"Can you give me your phone number so we can arrange things better?", Charles asked, feeling brave enough to do so, and you nodded.

You exchanged contact details and chatted a little longer until you were interrupted by the ringing of your phone. Charles waited for the call to end and returned the smile you gave him.

"Typical motherly concern", you explained, and Charles laughed, nodding along

"I know how it feels", he commented and it was your turn to smile

"Since my brother passed away, my mother, who was already overprotective, has become even more so. I don’t blame her for that, quite the opposite. I have learned to deal with it and I don’t make her life harder, I have a very open relationship with my mother. My first academic choice was not Monaco, but in Montpellier", you said as Charles made such curiosity known and looked at you, "But the truth is that I couldn’t even finish the first semester in the city because I couldn’t stand being alone. It was as if the pain multiplied by mixing with the loneliness that I felt. We were so close that I couldn’t separate the pain of having to leave for one of my dreams. I wasn’t prepared for the nights when nightmares haunted me and the absence of my brother was felt more than ever. So, I asked my parents to come and get me and I moved back to Monaco, where it didn't get easier but it wasn’t as difficult as being alone. Since my brother left, we’ve gotten even closer. But the first few days were the hardest. My mother became depressed, my father closed himself off a bit more and, at the age of twelve, I let myself be suffocated by the feelings I had no one to talk to, until my father learned to deal with the pain and helped us do the same. Someone needed to get back on their feet and help others get back on their feet too, and my father was my hero. We sought out the best psychologists for my mother and her progress was very positive, but in truth, what she was doing, and rightly so, was mourning the loss of the most real, pure and true love in the world. She was mourning the death of her son. And she did it in the only way she knew how. Today, we continue to do it, but we do it differently. And if people now talk and watch us go about our day to day lives, it's not because it no longer hurts - because it hurts a lot - it's because we've learned to embrace pain and deal with it. We hold its hand. I think the learning process is lifelong. And I'm going to die, still learning how to deal with it", you said, and the impact of your words prompt Charles to shed a tear, which was joined by all the others, for all the memories that hit him.

"I miss him so much", Charles whispered, avoiding your gaze.

Just out of the corner of his eye, Charles could see you get closer to him, smiling faintly when you pulled him into a hug he didn't hesitate in joining.

You fit perfectly on his chest, head nestled there as he hugged you by your waist, enveloping you and kissing the top of your head without a hitch.

And in that first touch of many, you got to know eachother through the way you both knew so well - pain. And right there, without knowing, you started another one - love.

.

Charles was coming home after another training session, the last one before the charity race he was participating in which would take place the next day at ten in the morning. Today was also the historic race day, the race he would watch with you, after meeting up every day that week at your usual spot - although it wasn’t the happiest, you always ended up going to different places in the capital city, where you took the opportunity to get to know each other better.

"Charles", he heard his mother call out and smiled, going to meet the woman who was preparing dinner.

"Hi, maman”, he kissed her hair and bent down a little so she could kiss his cheek, “I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you", he looked at her with a guilty expression, "I'm not going to have dinner at home", he continued, enjoying the meat she was cooking that smelled very good.

"It's all right", Pascale smiled, "you're going to watch the historic race with Joris and Riccardo, aren't you?", she asked, as they were usually his company.

"Well, about that..", Charles mumbled, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture of confusion that didn't go unnoticed by the oldest in the room.

"Charles Marc Hervé Perceval! What aren't you telling me?", his mother asked, genuinely curious, and he laughed out loud when she turned off the stove and crossed her arms, waiting for him to start talking.

"I'm going with a girl", he started and saw her smile grow at the information he had given her, "her name is Y/N. She is twenty years old and is a final-year student in the radiology and radiotherapy course. Unfortunately, we did not meet under happy circumstances, but the time we have spent together has allowed us to create and experience moments that go beyond that", he explained, avoiding his mother’s gaze to hide his slight embarrassment.

"Where did you meet?", Pascale wanted to know.

"At the cemetery. It was during one of the visits I paid to papa, three weeks ago. She lost her twin brother to a rare blood disease that doctors were never able to identify. Y/N was eight years old when he passed away. I have never related with anyone as much as I did with her. She understands me. In fact, we understand each other. She is simply beautiful in every way", Charles shrugged, not avoiding a smile as he remembered you.

"Charles, is it just me or are you in love?", his mother asked with a smile as she hugged him, fitting into his arms.

"It’s not possible, maman. Only this week that we’ve gotten closer", he replied, not avoiding a nervous laugh.

Pascale laughed, "and since when did that stop you from feeling something for that young woman? Charles, amour, it’s not the time of things but the intensity with which we experience them", she wisely advised and Charles nodded, smiling weakly.

"Thank you for everything, maman. Je t'aime", he whispered against her hair, leaving a kiss there.

"Never forget that you, as well as your brothers, are my pride and the light of my eyes. Je t'aime, Charles", Pascale spoke.

Charles held his mothee on his arms, wanting her to be aware of the infinite gratitude he felt for her.

Pascale pulled away, wiping her tears, and smiled at Charles, "Come on, I don’t want you like this!", Charles asked and she laughed, waving.

"I’m fine", his mother assured, "Now go take a shower and get ready so you don’t keep the girl waiting. I’ll make you a bowl of cereal, so you can eat something before you go", she warned and smiled, getting a kiss on her forehead.

"You’re the best!!", Charles exclaimed, leaving the room, and she laughed.

"I know!", she said, laughing, and Charles laughed at her expression.

Once he got to his bedroom, Charles chose a presentable outfit, wanting to dress appropriately and blend in with all of the fans and enjoy the race that was probably one of the last moments before everything flooded in. The PR team had already warned him that once he was in Formula One, everything changed and he hoped he could have this evening.

He ran to the bathroom, took a quick and relaxing shower, and got dressed without rushing, making sure he looked his best. After that, he went back to the kitchen, where his mother was still, finishing the preparations for dinner.

“Since I didn’t have any company for the meal, I invited your cousins”, she said.

Charles gave her a guilty smile, "I'm really sorry, maman", he spoke sincerely, and it was her turn to laugh, shaking her head.

“It’s okay, Charles, I was just kidding. I want you to go and enjoy Y/N's company. I haven't even met her yet and I already like her", she commented.

"Oh really? Why is that?", Charles wondered, really interested.

"Why? Because every time you talk about her, it's impossible for you not to smile. And I like that", she admitted and he blushed, hearing his mother giggle at his shyness.

"Maman!", he mumbled and the older woman laughed.

"What's wrong?", she asked, pretending not to notice as her son rolled his eyes, laughing.

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything, I should've stayed quiet", Charles complained and she laughed out loud.

"As if I wouldn't eventually find out, Charles", she winked, convinced, and Charles laughed at the joviality that characterized his mother, even after everything that life had put her through.

They were closer than ever and he felt very comfortable sharing any kind of subject with her, she was his best friend and the best thing in his world.

"I really have to go", Charles announced, looking at his watch, making sure he wouldn’t be late.

"Do you have everything with you, amour?”, she asked and he looked at her confused.

“Yes, why?”, Charles answered with another question, while he set the bowl of cereal in the sink.

"Are you sure?", she insisted and he snorted, patting his pockets and checking that nothing was missing.

"I have everything", he replied, kissing her forehead as a way of saying goodbye, "I'll see you later. Je t'aime!", he shouted from the living room and heard her laugh.

"Do you have the condoms with you?", Pascale asked, giggling, and Charles almost choked on his own saliva.

He couldn't believe it.

"Seriously, maman?", he made himself heard out loud.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Charles? I too was a young woman your age once. And I'm too young to be a grandmother!", she said, coming to meet him at the door, and she couldn't help but laugh when she saw his embarrassment.

"I'm leaving!", Charles exclaimed, leaving a last kiss on her cheek and walking all the way to the car while laughing, knowing his mother never missed the opportunity and had a great ability to embarrass her own son.

Charles got in the car and drove off towards your house which, even after a week, continued to leave him astonished by the external beauty that set it apart from the others in the same neighborhood. He sent you a quick text letting you know that he was already waiting for you and, about three minutes later, he heard a door slam, looking in the direction of the noise and not helping but smile when he saw how you were dressed appropriately for the race.

"Wow, yes, we have a racing fan", he complimented and the brunette giggle.

You were dressed in a vintage jacket, an allusive cap with the peak turned backwards and the rest of the outfit complimented it.

The rest of the journey to the track was transformed into a karaoke session, "tell me if we don't make an unbeatable singing duo", you joked as you walked towards the interior of the building where you would be sitting.

"Like society hasn't seen in many years", Charles joined in your joke and you laughed

Charles put his right hand on your shoulder, hugging you and guided you through the crowd so that you wouldn’t lose each other. He heard his name being called and two kids running towards him, making you stop walking. He greetd them with a smile and they ask for a photo that would be the responsibility of the woman who was waiting for them to position themselves, "your girlfriend can also join the portrait", the oldest women pointed to you, and you couldn't help but blush, making Charles smile sideways when he noticed such a thing.

"We're not-", Charles didn't let you finish.

"Come here, Y/N", he asked and the lady waved, heading towards you.

After the photos were taken, the kids thanked Charles, immediately disappearing from our sight, "Do you want to see something around here or would you rather go inside now?", Charles chatted up while you tried to show yourself less embarrassed.

He couldn't help but admit that he was enjoying seeing you like that and, more than that, knowing that he was the one that made you feel that way.

"We can go inside, since race time is very close", you preferred and Charles nodded, placing his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the entrance.

You greeted the various security guards who were there and headed to the place that your tickets indicated. Because Charles belonged in a professional driving championship, he was entitled to the VIP stands.

"Wow", you exclaimed, truly enchanted by the view you had of the track, which was undergoing the final touches before opening its doors to the public.

"Have you never been here before?", Charles asked and saw you deny it, while remaining astonished, appreciating the atmosphere around you.

"Only for a visit when Lucas was with us, never when there was an actual race happening. This is going to be great", you finally looked at him, offering him a smile, "thank you, Charles", you spoke and he acknowledged the sincerity of your words, smiling at you broadly.

“You’re welcome", he downplayed the situation, just hoping you would feel good, "I don’t know if you drink, but would you like a beer? Or perhaps some wine?", he asked and you laughed.

“I don’t usually drink, but today I can make an exception", you accepted and Charles smiled.

“Are you sure? You have every right to say no" he made it clear and you laughed, denying it.

“Seriously, Charles, we can go", you insisted and he waved, giving you space so you could go ahead of him.

The crowd there was huge, but that didn't stop you from drinking and snacking before the race started.

"The teams are getting ready", Charles said as you finished our drinks and you waved, standing up and opening your wallet to take out the money.

"Hey you! What are you doing?", Charles quickly intervened, placing his hand on yours to stop your movements.

"Charles, what did you promise? 'You'll pay next time', that's what you said", you imitated his tone of voice and you burst out laughing.

"Can't you wait until next time?", he insisted and you gave him a death glare, making Charles realise there wasn't much he could do.

"Okay then", he gave in and you giggled smugly.

You went back to your seats after you paid, watching everyone get ready for the race.

"Do you have a favourite driver?", Charles wondered.

"I don't think so. Each one has something to offer to the races, and it's not like many of them are here", you spoke before seeing Lewis Hamilton approach one of the cars.

A song came on and you pulled Charles to dance with you, singing in his ear as he smiled, tightening his grip on your waist. "Now comes the part that no one knows how to sing", you added, moving away from Charles a little and he could notice your shyness, most likely because of the action you had done before.

You danced awkwardly, which earned you a couple of looks, and stopped when the announcer of the track, already full, made himself heard, announcing the race was about to start.

"I love this part", you smiled, getting a kiss from Charles on the hair that was not covered by your cap.

The race started out well and everything seemed to be going as they hoped, the announcer mentioning some facts they had about the historic race.

"THAT'S AN OVERTAKE!", you shouted and the entire section stood up, celebrating yet another great move from Lewis.

You screamed euphorically, pulling Charles into a quick hug, before joining in the celebrations with the rest of the fans.

This girl was out of this world, Charles thought.

"I've never seen a girl like you", he said, automatically enchanted by you.

"That's because I'm an exclusive edition", you joked and you both laughed, "Is that good?", you asked seriously.

Charles returned your gaze, nodding, "Very. You're different from everyone I've ever met", he admitted and you smiled, looking away from him.

"Good. That way, I don't have to worry about them", you shrugged.

Charles smiled, satisfied with the answer you had given him, "Come here" he asked in an act of courage, hugging you while you rested your head on his chest and focusing your attention on the race.

When the race ended for a break until the next one, you took the opportunity to go to the bathroom, while Charles chose to do the same.

Since he was quicker than you, given that the line was shorter, he waited for you outside, where there was a line of young people who were looking at him curiously.

"Finally", Charles muttered to himself as he watched you leave the compartment.

"What happened? Were you feeling watched over?", you made fun and he stuck his tongue out at you, pulling you closer to him. "Watched over?! It seemed like the girls were undressing me with their eyes", he accused.

"That was most likely exactly what was happening", you confirmed and he looked at you in shock, which made you laugh again, "What?! You can't judge them!", you argued.

Charles laughed, honestly pleased with what he had heard, "Oh really? Have you also undressed me with your eyes?", he whispered in youe ear.

"No, I prefer to do it with my hands", you murmured against his mouth and walked ahead of him, leaving him perplexed.

Well, take that, Charles, his subconscious spoke and he chuckled - the ability you had to leave him speechless was unbelievable. Noticing the faces you were making, he decided to return to your seats, where you were already dividing your attention between your cell phone and the track.

"What are you watching?", Charles asked, moving closer to you to observe what you were watching, spending some time watching the silliness and fun on her screen.

"The game is going to start again", Charles said as you quickly turned off the electronic device and hugged his waist, while you paid attention.

"What is he doing to Lewis?", Charles complained.

"Do not play around with him!", you joined.

"Maybe there's a favourite after all?", Charles teased you.

"Maybe, he is very skilled and handsome", you shrugged.

"Oh, good", Charles murmured, feeling a pang of jealousy at the way you had spoken about the driver.

Your laugh made him realize that you had noticed, "Charles, are you jealous?", you mocked and he rolled his eyes, avoiding looking at you.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know that word", he shrugged, trying to make you forget the subject but you didn’t give in.

Instead, you brought your hand to his face, making him look at you, "I’m here with you, aren’t I?", you asked seriously and he smiled weakly, nodding along, "So it’s not Lewis that interests me", you concluded, paying attention to the track again.

Charles sighed, pulling you closer to him, a gesture that made you smile.

Once the race ended, you headed towards the outside, trying to avoid the confusion as much as possible.

"Shall we eat something?", Charles asked you, intertwining your fingers, and you smiled shyly at him, which made him chuckle.

"Please!", you agreed and laughed out loud. "Suggestions?", he asked and you looked thoughtful.

"The center might not be a good idea because it must be full after this", you ruled out, "that new panini shop?", you suggested and he agreed.

You got in the car and headed towards the shop, ordering it to go and Charles ended up choosing a nice spot that overviewed the city.

"Tomorrow I'm going to race", he began, "I know it's not your tradition, but I'd like for you to come watch", he invited and you smiled.

"I'll be there", you agreed and it was his turn to smile, "At what time is it?", you wondered.

"At 10:00 in the morning. I know it's Sunday but...", Charles trailed off.

"Tomorrow, at that time, I'll be there to support you", you promised and he thanked you.

Charles parked the car and you got out of the vehicle, enjoying the fresh night air, which was quite pleasant. He cleaned his shirt and pants again and heard you laugh as you came closer to help him with the crumbs.

"Clumsy", you criticized jokingly, and he stuck his tongue out at you.

You sat down on one of the benches that were there and you sighed, making Charles look in your direction.

"How peaceful", you whispered, while keeping your eyes closed and a small smile on your lips.

"Monaco is really beautiful", Charles said, hearing you agree with a small murmur.

You took off your cap and tried to fix you hair, making Charles laugh.

"Let me help you", he gently asked and you turned to him, letting him fix the rebelliousness that characterized you.

As soon as he finished, he continued to caress them, which made you close you eyes to enjoy the affection.

"Kiss me", you murmured and he looked at you in surprise.

"What?", Charles asked, trying to understand if he had heard correctly.

"Kiss me, Charles", you repeated.

"Can I?", still astonished, he wanted to make sure.

"You should", you replied as Charles smiled at your answer and pulled you towards him, appreciating the serenity of your face.

"Finally", Charles whispered against your mouth before finally placing your lips together for the first time - of many, he hoped.

You allowed his tongue to enter your mouth when he silently asked for permisson and he intensified your kiss, truly surrendering to you.

And in eachother's lips, you discovered the path to peace, the one you both had lost years before with the pain that had overwhelmed you.

.

You woke up to the sound of the alarm clock, quickly getting up, not wanting to be late for Charles' race,

"Y/N, dear?", you heard the surprise in you mother's voice and couldn't help but laugh. "Hi, mama", you said, giving her permission to come in, and she did so.

"Are you going to tell me why you're up at this hour? Of all people, you who hibernates all weekend!", she joked and you stuck out your tongue, which made her laugh.

"I just felt like getting up, that's all", you said briefly, as you looked through your closet, looking for the most presentable, yet comfortable, clothes possible.

"And why are you going to dress so nicely if you're going to spend the whole day at home?", she mused, suspiciously, and you laughed at her curiosity.

"Okay, mama, you win", you eventually gave in and she celebrated, which made you laugh out loud.

"I'm going to watch the charity race", you said and her curious look made you realize that her questions were only at the beggining.

"Who's your boyfriend from there?", she didn't hesitate to ask and you looked at her, shocked etched on your face.

"Why do I have to have a boyfriend to watch the race?", you asked, astonished and she looked at you with an expression that said to not mess with her.

"Your mother is old but she's not stupid, Y/N", she scolded, laughing and you followed.

"Mama, you are forty-eight years old. You are a young woman", you complimented her, trying to make her drop about the subject and the older woman laughed.

"Yes, yes, sweetheart. Now the question I asked you", she insisted and you laughed, shaking your head.

"I don't have a boyfriend, mama. But I have a friend who would like me to go and I'm going", you told her and the smile she gave you made you blush.

"Name?", she wanted to know and you snorted, making her laugh.

"How annoying", you rumbled and she laughed again, "Charles".

"Then I hope this Charles takes care of you or the wooden spoon will fly", she threatened and you couldn't help but laugh with her.

"You're amazing, mama", you replied and she laughed, coming towards you and kissing your forehead.

"I just want you to be happy", she muttered, while caressing your face and smiling.

"I am", you assured her and she smiled, before walking away, leaving you alone again. You ran to the private bathroom and took a quick shower, leaving it shortly after so you could get ready in time. You applied some light makeup and dried your hair, leaving it in its natural waves.

You went down the stairs, passing through the living room, patting Simba on the head, the old Labrador who had always been with you, and whose name was based on Lucas' favorite movie.

"Good morning", you greeted your parents, although you had already spoken to your mother.

"Up so early, my dear?", your father was surprised and you looked at my mother, who was already looking at you with a suggestive smile that made you roll you

[stars-remain2]

Last Line Tag

I was tagged by @optimisticflicker, thank you and welcome to the MoTA Fandom. We are so glad to have you. 🥰

Here’s a new snippet from my WIP “I Won’t Go Where You Can’t Follow” Chapter 3. I’m just getting back in the groove on this one. Such a sucker for Gale whump.

Bucky wakes up to someone gently shaking his shoulder. He opens his eyes to see John Brady standing over him. Bucky can tell that Brady is worried by the furrow currently taking up residence between his eyebrows. In any other circumstance Bucky might find it endearing but today it just makes him worry too.

Buck’s co-pilot, Benny DeMarco, hovers just over Brady’s left shoulder, looking equally as concerned. The realities of the day that stretches before them hits him all at once. Today they continue to march. He’s reminded of the weight in his arms and he looks down to see Buck’s face.

He can’t hide a grimace. It looks so much worse in the daylight. Buck looks so much worse in the daylight.

Buck’s beautiful face is mottled with bruises. His plush lips are split and swollen, with rivulets of blood dried and crusted over at both corners of his mouth. Both eye sockets are black and blue. And this is just the damage that is visible. Bucky can’t help the fists that his hands create in response to the visage before him.

He takes a deep breath in through his nose and releases it through his mouth. His anger won’t help Buck. He’s got to keep his head about him today because his only job is to put one foot in front of the other and keep Buck on his feet.

He looks up at Benny and Brady and says, “let me wake him up and then I’m going to need your help getting him on his feet.”

They nod grimly. They know the damage Gale has to his ribs and they can imagine the pain that pulling their Major to his feet is about to cause. But it has to be done.

Bucky starts talking to Gale softly. He’s not going to have a lot of time to be gentle with him today so he’s going to savor this last tender moment. “Buck. Hey Buck, I need you to wake up.”

Gale tries to open his eyes and can’t help the moan that escapes his swollen lips. “Aahhhhhhh, Jo’n.”

He then sees he’s got an audience and quickly clamps down on his pain. His men shouldn’t have to see him this way. He closes his eyes again so he can regroup.

Benny and Brady kneel down in front of him. Benny is the first to break the silence. “Hey Major, let’s get you back on those feet. Can we help you get up? So Major Egan can get up too?”

Gale blushes slightly at the acknowledgment he’s been lying in John’s arms. He just nods at them, afraid of what sound he’ll make if he speaks again.

Benny takes one hand and Brady takes his other. They also slide their other hands under his arm pits to further brace him. He bends his knees to try and help. They pull and he feels the world shift out from underneath him. He hears static in his ears and spots begin to creep into the sides of his vision.

He’s upright but suddenly he’s vomiting and he feels two ribs grind up against one another.

Time ceases to have meaning.

He thinks he hears John asking someone to get some water. Then there’s a cup up against his mouth.

“Buck, swish that around and spit it out, okay? Then you can have a little drink. But just a little.”

He feels the cold sweat at his hairline, tricking down his forehead. A hand brushes his hair back, trying to soothe. He’s hunched over like an old man. The pain is unbearable. Is this what it feels like just before you die?

“John?”

“I’m here Buck.”

He looks up and can finally see clearly again, the spots have dissipated from his vision. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

John bites his lip. He’s never heard Gale speak like this before. He never thought he’d hear Major Gale Cleven admit defeat. He won’t allow it.

“Sure you can, Major. You’ve got all of us guys to help you. We won’t let you fall.”

Gale just looks at him, as his eyes go hazy. “Sure Johnny.”

No pressure tagging @joeyalohadream @happy-days19 @middlingmay @onyxsboxes @hogans-heroes @trekkiehood @rambleonwaywardson @heretoobsessstuff @feyd-meowtha @avonne-writes @pinenutpbj @rangerelizabeth @swifty-fox @nicijones @oopsiedaisiesbaby @the-ghost-of-jason-todd @steviewicks45

[yannaryartside]

First of all, thank you so much for such a detailed answer.

I really think some scenes may not make sense in a medical context, the injection to the kid, for example, but are used to highlight Claire's attitude towards her patients. Other blogs have talked about this scene as a parallel to her relationship with Carmy, because she liked her to distract him from the pain as she did with the kid/

HOWEVER

Regarding the allergy thing, I am betting that is a flag they planted so people could suspect the grenade that relationship was the whole time. When you said:

"But my BIGGEST red flag in all this was that- normal doctors are not morbidly fascinated with death and disease. There is NOTHING even remotely romantic about that; most of us are so burnt out by it." the way other doctors would be concerned about an attitude like Claire's got me thinking of something...

On top of that, she does seem fascinated by people in pain or in crisis; there is this scene in Pop when she says, "Michael was fun, he would say things on fire," which was a dialogue way out of character for a medical professional. She also mentioned being used to being around sad and drunk people, and that made me think she saw Carmy as another drunk, sad person for her to fix or another patient in crisis for her to medicate (with kisses and a pleasing attitude).

It is concerning how much the show used Claire's profession to make the audience think she is this angel on earth and also keep raising red flags after another. We never see her being nice to other people who are not her patients, dysfunctional friends, or even more dysfunctional Berzattos.

It reminded me of this psychology professor who warned us that in movies, you are not supposed to make a narcissist look like a hero because, at that point, the audience will be caught in the manipulation too far to reverse it.

They even went to the extent of forcing the audience into her pov in s3, as we are supposed to root for her because she is caring for people while heartbroken, the Faks come and tell her she is the one to take care of Carmen (because she also takes such good care of her patients) and then. THEN they thought the flashback of her talking about almost killing her patient for an allergy. I still see posts of pro Claire people that say that scene was to make her look human, and I was like "I am sorry, do you want us to feel bad because she can read and almost killed someone?" They put a magic trick there to make us follow her as a doctor just to tell us she may be rather dangerous for others in her position. That she presents herself as competent when she knows she is not. I, for what is worth, really didn't see regret on her face while telling that story.

THE LACK OF EMPHATY, the ROMATICIZING THE PAIN IN OTHERS. You explained that so well I am so glad I was not imagining shit.

It screams that Claire enjoys being around dysfunctional people so she can feel good by attempting to fix them and receiving love and loyalty in return. She even created a whole romantic relationship based in that and I am supposed to feel bad for her. No, I don't trust this woman and Carmy now thinks she is at peace and what he needs and everybody keeps telling him to return to her.

It is almost like (metaphorically) Carmy has set himself on fire (his mental illness) and now he is gonna go directly to a person (Claire) who cannot even apply the right treatment for him, because she is indeed incompetent and lacks the empathy to actually help him and feel for his issues, and will allow him to continue to burn as long as she feels needed by him.

Sorry to vent, that took a dark turn. But the more I think about this subject, the more unnerving it becomes. Thank you @sydneysrissotto. tagging @whenmemorydies @brokenwinebox and @thoughtfulchaos773

I'm waiting for my residency match, so while I wait, let me tell you that being a doctor doesn't look anything at all like how they've shown Claire. I wish the showrunners did some research.

[middlingmay]

Thanks to everyone who gave me advice on side-blogging versus main blog!

So, if you don't already know, I kind of do my own original writing, too. And I've promised myself this is the year I start to put it out there and hopefully publish my first piece of fiction.

A huge part of this has been writing my main fic, That Ol' Devil Called Love. Because it's kind of proved to myself that I can write novel-length pieces if I'm obsessed with them enough <3

Big thanks to @avonne-writes @amiserableseriesofevents and @jjubilee-fluff for being so encouraging on my earlier post looking for advice, and smooches to @soliloquy-dawn who's had eyes on an old draft of my main original work and shared their very lovely feedback.

SO. If that's not your thing and you're here for MOTA, or any of the other fandom content I blog, then I'll be tagging posts with my original work with the tag #original writing. and the name of whatever piece it is I'm posting that day. Creative, I know. But just in case anyone wants to filter it out :)

Here's a little taster for my main work, called All Grown-ups Must Die, set in 1960s Scotland:

.

She was silhouetted against the headlights. They were the only source of light on the back road.

Mama would be raging at her, being out so late.

The thought floated in some quiet space in her mind. It erased the pricks of rocks and pebbles and stones digging into her palms and carving a home for themselves in her knees. The car radio continued to spit out soft sounds.

The night we met I knew I, Needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, Never let you go.

She watched the gnarled and matted mass of her hair catch the nighttime breeze. All her oils and sprays hadn’t held up to their end of the bargain. She laughed once. It was a gasping, rough sound. Maybe mama would writer her a letter to the manufacturer. Of all the things she’d had to endure tonight, she could have done without the split ends and tangles.

Her wrists were red and stinging. Her nails were scuffed and several were broken ragged. Her favourite ring—a sapphire that mama got from her mam, and her mam, and her mam—was covered in a dark splotch.

“-Enny?” The tinny voice crackled into life through the open door of the idling car. “Benny? –ick up…radio!”

Benny sat back on her heels. The spike of one pressed against the small of her back. If felt good, grounding. She gradually took stock of the cooling and sticky blood speckled on her skin and splashed in her hair.

So won’t you please, Be my, be my baby? Be my little baby, My one and only baby.

A leg hung out of the car on the driver’s side. She hauled in a ragged gasp of air and bared her teeth, pearly against her skin and the blood, in a snarl.

“Benny! Hey – give it!”

“Benny? Pick up the radio Benny. Will—fucking gonnae drive faster!”

Benny dragged and scraped her palms and shins as she crawled across the dirt and gravel road. Little pricks of pain left a red, spotted line chartering her progress towards the car, like a treasure map.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

i have another 9+ hour drive ahead of me tomorrow you know what that means. another deep dive into the spotify solavellan playlists to forage for fruits...........

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[vaggieslefteye]

There are leaks of Season 2 - I will not talk about or engage with any of it on this blog. If you have the hazbin tags blocked, rest assured, I'm not going to be one of those people that posts about it. If/when I talk about season 2, it will ONLY be through what the official sources give out, WHEN they are intended to be announced, and nothing more.

That being said, I'm closing asks/all forms of requests for the time being, just to be on the safe side. I will probably keep posting stuff, but I'm turning off my notifs for this blog in general for a while.

[shannonsketches]

something something foils moving in opposite directions Goku's always happy to seek and fight stronger opponents because he spent most of his life being the strongest guy in the room and Vegeta wants to be the strongest/is always exhausted to find stronger opponents because he spent most of his life having to navigate his survival around the whims of the strongest guy in the universe room and so Goku has a foundation of safety and stability and so spends his time craving challenge and adventure and Vegeta has a foundation of challenge and adventure and spends his time craving safety and stability and the overlaid section of their venn diagram is that the only way they know how acquire and maintain those things is through battle

[milfbrainrot]

i feel like i type so much more than is reasonable when i do talk to people but i also don't get to socialize a ton so i just have soooo many words in me and if i'm like, tired or short on time, it is so much harder to restrain to the already-pushing-it point i can sometimes manage ;-;

[medilies]

Do you ever watch s3 and s4 and realise you're not enjoying it that much

[unriding]

Me sneaking into your asks with this drabble:

Disclaimer: I have yet to get a good grasp of Moze's character so this might be a bit OOC and on your side as well (sorry). I did my best. Also, this was inspired by the post you made abt telling Moze your tasks for the day | 600+ words (not proofread)

.

.

.

In Moze's eyes, you reminded him of a dog catching a case of the zoomies.

You were quite literally everywhere. He'd find you talking to someone one moment before you're rushing off to do something else entirely the next. It seemed like you had quite a lot on your plate as of recently. Tasks, things you wanted to do, and so much more spinning around that mind of yours. You've told him a bit of your plans so he has a general idea. But seeing you juggling all of those tasks at once makes both admiration and concern bloom in his chest.

One time, Moze found you carrying a box filled with items. It would've been amusing to him how comical it was that the items piled so high— he could barely see you behind it. However, he did worry right after given how you almost tripped over something. He managed to catch you and the items before both came crashing all over the floor.

He insisted on helping you carry the items to wherever its destination was. It took a bit of pursuasion on his side. Convincing you that it truly wasn't a bother to him at all, and that he'd be very much glad to be of assistance to you.

"I need to get these delivered first. Then go stop by the shop to buy some things. After that…" You go on to ramble about the things you had to do to help get a better vision on what else you had to do. "Oh, no… I messed up." The smile on your face dropping at the thought that had slipped your mind until that moment. "I forgot to invite Jiaoqiu to dinner with the others—"

"It's tomorrow evening, right? He knows. I mentioned it last time when I spoke to him." Moze says with a calm tone.

You blink at him, slightly caught off-guard by the man beside you. Though it's immediately replaced with relief and gratitude. The smile on your face already back, lighting up your features once more. Infectious as always, it makes the corners of his lips tug upwards as well. A small part of him feels quite proud to have been able to help you ease your worries even by a bit.

And this is when you start noticing it.

Did you mention that you're running out of a certain skincare product, but you can't find the time to stop by the store to buy it? Moze conveniently has to stop by near the store and buys it for you. Did you also mention that you wanted to do a certain task but keep forgetting about it? He gently reminds you about it via message or verbal if he's nearby. Did you also happen to mention that you've been meaning to try out a certain desert from a cafe, but the schedule simply doesn't seem to allow you? No fear, he passes by the store to buy you the treat.

Moze doesn't see you as someone incapable of handling things by yourself. To him, he simply sees it as a way to show his care. If making a quick stop somewhere, sending you a small reminder of something you had to do that day, or even helping you out with the tasks you need to accomplish, makes you smile? Gives you a chance to take a break? Let you worry less about the things you need to do? It's worth it in his eyes.

He does his best to avoid making you feel like you're bothering or troubling him (you really aren't). Most of the time, he does them discrcetly and casually. Partially, since he's also scared that you'll think he's weird or a creep for acting like that.

Please don't think of him badly.

Moze truly means well.

[crabussy]

I want to take a bite out of someone's arm but I'm too shy

[averlym]

a word to the wise sometimes the only true rest is looking beyond what you thought was success

so true! adamandi is full of wise advice such as this, including: "and you'll never feel better if you - fucking die- you stupid ass!"

[marauderingminnie]

So much of the current marauders fandom controversy wouldn’t even exist if people just tagged their posts right 😭😭