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whumpcloud · 2 years ago

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Red Room - Lies and Proof

content: filmed whump, creepy/intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, captivity, threatened fingore (cutting off a finger - doesn't happen but nails get pulled out instead), begging, implied child abuse (non-specific)

New project. Jack Mitchell (yes, that one, if you know me you know I'm excited), twenty-one, he/they. Real pretty when he cries. No permanent injuries, no broken limbs, and no facial damage, but as always, it's up to you. Streaming in twenty. Leave suggestions while you wait!

Matthew refreshes the page.

Nothing. Thirty seconds.

Matthew refreshes the page.

Take a knife to him.

Oh, knife freak's still here. Matthew refreshes the page.

Threaten him with something permanent so he screams and begs :)

Not even a finger or two? Bummer. You're not usually this careful. Pull out their nails?

holy shit, youre not kidding. hes all over the news. you should show him.

Now that gives Matthew an idea. He can manage all of those, if he does them in the right order.

Jack is sitting up on the mattress, biting his nails down to the skin, when Matthew comes to get him.

"N-No, please." Jack shrinks away, as though hiding in the corner is going to help. "Please, please don't, p-please-"

"Begging's not gonna get you anywhere, baby boy," Matthew grins. "But keep doing it anyway. It's adorable."

Jack screams and struggles until Matthew slams the back of his head into the wall, so about three seconds. Jack whines and closes his eyes so that the room doesn't jostle with Matthew's careless movement. It doesn't seem like Matthew has an ounce of patience for Jack screaming when he doesn't explicitly want it.

Fine.

Matthew lays Jack on the table and straps him in. Jack immediately notices the television, then everything spins as Matthew tilts the table.

"Can't have you straining your neck to look," he smiles. "Camera on!"

The one thing that Jack can take comfort in is that Matthew looks like an idiot. He really does look like some kidnapper in a movie, black scarf over his mouth hiding his maniacal delight. Not that it's really any comfort at all, but Jack grasps onto it anyway.

"You gonna say hi, Jacky?" Matthew says.

"All of you are horrible people," Jack spits.

"Yeah, yeah, I think we know that," Matthew laughs, then checks his watch. "Anyway, let's watch something. Might take a bit to get to the good part."

Matthew turns on the television, flicking to some celebrity news show that Jack has always been banned from watching or being on.

It plays for a few minutes, and Jack can feel his heart beating in his ears. Is the anticipation a part of it? Jack fidgets in his bindings.

"This is so fun for you," Jack says dryly.

"Wait for it," Matthew says, double checking his watch.

And then Jack sees it. That's him, on the screen, a picture of him at a convention a few years ago. It's the only one the news ever uses, because it's the last time they managed to get a photo of him smiling like that.

It fades out, into an interview, and Jack isn't listening, can't listen, because that's his father, on this show he hates, looking anxious and teary and worried.

Jack hates it. Is it another act? Even he can't tell. He turns away from the screen, angry tears in his eyes.

Matthew watches, and Jack knows that stupid smirk is on his face under his stupid scarf. "What is it, baby boy? You don't like watching? Don't you wanna see your dad?"

"He's lying," Jack mumbles. "He doesn't care."

"That's not a nice thing to say about your dad, Jacky," Matthew says.

"So?" Jack squeezes his eyes shut. "He probably thinks I ran away. He's just using being famous to get me back."

"Oh, that's interesting," Matthew chuckles, and circles around to rest his chin on the top of the table, fingers tracing Jack's cheekbones. "Why would you run away, huh? Come on, you've got nothing to lose by telling."

"Do you think I wanted to be a fucking actor?" Jack snaps, wrenching his face away from Matthew's touch. "I didn't, I hate it, but he wanted me to and I didn't have a fucking choice."

"Daddy issues, huh?" Matthew's tone of voice doesn't waver from amusement. "Doesn't mean he doesn't care about you, baby boy."

"He cares because I look good on camera," Jack mutters.

Matthew laughs. "Can't say I disagree. But come on, I bet he'd care about you getting hurt. Even if it's just 'cause he's not the one hurting you."

"He wouldn't."

"Aw, you sound so sure." Matthew grins as Jack's head snaps to the side at the feeling of a knife against his hand. "We could prove it. You wanna prove it?"

Jack swallows. "What, are you going to send him a video of me?"

"Nah, nah, I'm gonna send him something way more fun," Matthew grins, placing the knife edge on Jack's pinky. "Let's go real cliche. What about your finger in a box?"

Jack's eyes widen. "N-No, no, you said- you said nothing permanent, you--"

"And you didn't think I could change my mind?" Matthew digs in, just a little, and Jack's tiny whimper is music to his ears. "Could be fun. We'll just have to see."

"No!" Jack is already starting to sob. So quick to panic. "No, don't, please, please no, s-something else, anything else, please, you said nothing permanent, please!"

Jack screams - like it's going to help, like it's doing anything but make this even more fun - when Matthew slices, a little droplet of blood trickling down the side of Jack's hand.

"Stop it, stop it, please!" Jack begs, not even caring that he's being filmed, that people are watching this for some kind of sick pleasure, laser focused on the fact that he could lose his finger. "Something else, please, I'm begging you!"

"That you are," Matthew says, pressing Jack's palm flat. "Didn't I already tell you begging wasn't gonna get you anywhere?"

"No, p-please!" Jack's desperate voice breaks. "Something else, something else! Not this, please not this!"

"What else then, huh?" Matthew's other hand slides into Jack's hair. "Go on. What else should I send him?"

"I don't know, I don't know, just not my finger, please--"

"I asked you a question, sweetheart," Matthew says, voice lowering. "I want an answer. Pick something. Something that'll hurt."

What can he afford to lose? Jack wracks his brain for something, something that Matthew will accept, something that will hurt but won't hurt too much and he can send and won't be a finger.

"M-My nails?" Jack tries. Is that enough? Please let it be enough. "Y-You could pull… pull them out."

Matthew's face lights up. Oh, he just knew this was going to be fun. Jack has no idea that he's managed to tumble headfirst into where everyone wants him. He really does know exactly how to behave for a camera.

"Alright," Matthew grins. "One hand or both?"

Matthew has no real intention of letting Jack get away from this with any nails left on his hands, but he wants to see what Jack picks. Wants to see how far Jack thinks he wants to go with this.

"Both," Jack mumbles. "Don't pretend it's a choice."

"No, it is," Matthew lies, and puts the knife down to pick up some tweezers instead. "But you've said both now."

Jack is too panicked to think about whether it's a lie or not, and Matthew knows that. Matthew ignores Jack's pleas to change his answer, holds his hand still as he begs, and can't help laughing at the scream when the first nail is ripped from his finger. By the third nail, Jack is cussing out Matthew and everyone watching with all the swear words he knows. By the seventh, he can't do anything but incoherently sob for it to stop. Matthew holds every single nail up for the camera to see, then sets it aside.

"You're so cute when you beg," Matthew says, kissing the top of Jack's head. "All done now. See ya later, everyone."

And Matthew turns the camera off.

"Don't touch me," Jack gasps, fighting to control his breathing. "Don't fucking touch me, I s-swear--"

Matthew isn't actually expecting any resistance, but Jack manages to grab his ponytail in one bloody, bound hand, and pulls sharply.

"You little shit!"

Matthew's first instinct is to break Jack's fingers for it, but he stops himself, and instead wrenches his hair from Jack's grasp and grabs the knife.

Jack balls his hands into fists. "You're a sadistic fucking freak--"

"Shh," is all Matthew knows he needs to say, because he's holding a knife under Jack's chin.

Jack goes silent.

"That's good," Matthew says. "Now, I'm gonna ask you to do some things, and you're not gonna cry or complain, 'cause I don't have the patience for that when no-one's watching. You just gotta do what you're told."

"Mhm," Jack manages.

"Okay. Gonna unstrap you, and then you're gonna walk with me."

Matthew leaves no room for disagreement. Jack limply slides from the table, and Matthew holds him up by the waist, and pulls him towards the countertops around the room.

"There's a box up there," Matthew says, using the knife to gesture. "Bring it down, and then you're gonna push your nails into it."

Jack obeys, even though he whimpers and almost starts to cry again when he sees his own bloody, broken nails. He makes a point not to look at his hands.

"Tape and paper and pens in that drawer," Matthew says. "Write your address and stick it to the top. Write a little letter if you want. But remember I'm over your shoulder, so don't get any ideas."

"Why are you making me do this?" Jack mumbles.

"DNA, silly," Matthew replies. "I sanitise everything, so it's not on the counters. But I'm not taking more risks than I need to."

Jack writes an I'm sorry before hesitating, and tacking on an I love you.

Jack drops a strand of Matthew's hair into the box with the letter, and immediately shuts it so Matthew won't see. It won't make a difference if Matthew's DNA isn't already somewhere. But on the off-chance it is, Jack can cling to some hope.

taglist: @bloodinkandashes @itsmyworld23 @rabbitdrabbles

#polly's prose #red room #jack mitchell #matthew seung #whump #whump writing #finally decided to continue this one!!#gave it a series name and everything. is it creative no but it is functional and accurate #also diversity win! the people watching you get tortured on the internet respect your pronouns!

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clarionglass · 6 months ago

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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!

#game master #sam reich!master #doctor who #dw #dropout #game changer #you know what let's chuck some character tags in here #15th doctor #the master #sam reich #brennan lee mulligan #grant o'brien #kaylin mahoney #clari speaks #clari writes #ah darlings i'm putting my chat down here rather than in the post body for once #so i've thought of this whole saga as 'part three' but i will be a) titling them all and b) just keeping on numbering the parts sequentiall #rather than 'part three part one' etc #otherwise we're getting into homestuck act titling territory and that is ground i do not wish to tread #also fuck i hope i've got the time zones right #i'm planning to post this when an episode of game changer would ordinarily be released. to plug the gap. to tide us over.#(the finale trailer is so delightfully unhinged and i cannot wait til next week)#anyway gang this one was wild #the slight but significant genre shift from 'game changer with doctor who elements' to 'doctor who with game changer elements'#it was fun to write! and hopefully fun to read :)#also i MUST say that eugene northernfireart has a baller comic in the works that this entire thing is based on #this is thousands of words of setup and continuation because the sketch idea was so good it possessed me #and we decided that it had to be a proper dw episode #(hey rtd hire me pls)#anyway eugene is on hiatus bc of life so in the meantime go give him love and be Fuckin Hyped for the comic when it appears bc i know i am

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kizzer55555 · 6 months ago

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Core Gems

So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.

Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.

Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.

However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.

In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.

Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.

The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.

Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.