#so next time HOPEFULLY

[wcnderlnds]

sorry’s not good enough | warren lipka

✧ fluff/angstober day six | “sorry doesn’t fix everything” ✧

・❥・warnings: swearing, mentions of weed & alcohol!・❥・ authors note: it’s my first time writing warren so i’m sorry if it’s awful

Warren Lipka. Now that was a name you hadn’t heard in a couple of years. A name you didn’t want to hear but you had the misfortune of your friend telling you that he was on campus looking for you. Warren was looking for you? Was he absolutely out of his mind? You’d made it clear the last time you’d seen him that you wanted nothing to do with him. Yelled it in his face even but apparently, in true Warren style, he didn’t listen. Nothing seemed to stick in that head of his. Unfortunate considering he was one of the smartest people you’d ever met.

That man was nothing but a thorn in your side. He always had been but along the way you’d fallen in love with him. It was hard not to. He was charming, he had a way with words that could make you feel like the most important person in the world. The two of you had dated your last year of high school and it had been going amazing until Warren fucked it up. You’d caught him kissing some other girl. The second you’d seen his lips lock with hers, it was over. The pain in your chest, the feeling of your heart breaking was something you never thought you’d experience. How naive you’d been. You chewed him out in front of everyone letting him know how much you hated him (which was in fact not true) and you never wanted to talk to him again.

That was the last time you’d seen him. Until now.

Eyes caught his brown ones, his hair still the unruly mess it always was as he headed your way. The fight or flight in you was telling you to run but your heart? Well, that was betraying you. No matter what he’d done, no matter how badly he’d hurt your feelings there was always going to be a part of you that still loved him.

“Just the person I was looking for!” He grinned, acting as if nothing had ever happened.

“What do you want?” Arms folded across your chest, you glared at him.

“Need your help with something.”

“And why would I help you?”

“Because there’s money in it and I know you need it to pay college tuition,” he shrugged, the sly smirk on his face was making you want to slap it right off. But, he was right, you needed the money so it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out.

That was how you’d ended up at this stupid party with Warren. After hearing him out and hearing the whole heist plan, you were hesitant but Warren's determination was enough to squeeze through your walls and let your guard crumble a little bit — he was a smooth talker. The party he’d dragged you to was so you could gather more intel, look for more people who could maybe help you out.

The red solo cup in your hand was empty as you stood in the corner, arm wrapped around your midsection. Parties had never been your thing. Maybe once in a while they were good for a distraction but if you had a choice you’d much rather spend the night in your dorm watching a movie. An arm wrapped around your shoulder and Warren’s familiar scent of weed and sandalwood filled your nostrils.

“Been talking to a few people. Think I’ve found someone else that could help us out. Met him a few years back, fell out with him but I’m sure I could sweet talk him,” Warren said into your ear so you could hear him above the music. A shiver ran down your spine at the familiar feeling of having him so close. Your head tilted to look at him, meeting his eyes.

“Cool. Happy for you,” your reply was sarcastic, half assed, really. You were getting lost in those familiar eyes. Before you could register what was happening Warren's lips met yours roughly, his hand tangling in your hair to hold your head in place. His tongue traced along your bottom lip and you parted your mouth easily, tongues tangling together. It was rough, it was messy but, man, had you missed it.

Finally, you pulled away, Warren’s forehead resting on yours, eyes closed as he caught his breath back. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too.” It wasn’t a lie. You had missed him but you had to step back. “I should go.”

“Call me tomorrow?”

You nodded your head, heading out into the cold air of the night. Your hand reached into your jacket pocket to call a cab but you realised your phone wasn’t there. It must have fallen out of your pocket when you were kissing Warren. It took just a few steps to get back into the house, heading to where you’d just been but the second you got there, you froze in place.

Warren was there with his tongue down some other girl's throat in the exact same spot he’d been kissing you moments ago. His eyes opened and spotted you. Without a care to the other girl, he quickly came over to you. “I thought you’d left.”

Thankfully, your phone was on the floor so without a word you picked it up and ran to get out of there, trying to fight back the tears threatening to fall. How could you have fallen for his charms again? Warren grabbed your arm to prevent you from leaving. His touch was gentle but firm. “Hey, let me explain.”

“Explain what? I can’t believe I let you do this to me again. I'm such an idiot.” You pulled your arm away from him like his touch burned you.

“I’m so fucking sorry, babe. I’m sorry for everything,” he pleaded, reaching out for you again.

“Sorry doesnt fix everything, Warren. I’m out. I’m done. Don’t contact me ever again, I mean it. Get the fuck out of my life.” It was hard to stop the shaking in your voice, your hand coming up to wipe at your eyes. “You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Before Warren could say anything, you finally turned and walked away. He let you go this time watching as you walked out of his life for good.

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @xmidnight-rain @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @honeymoon8 @lemoniiiiiii @evanpetersbf

[katsinspats]

Thematically appropriate comic for Make a Terrible Comic Day!!

I saw the original post this morning and it made me get out of bed to make something, so thank u Pseudonym Jones mission accomplished

[ruushes]

companions re-classed pt 2 - wyll 🗡️💘🐉

with thanks to @thedragonagelesbian and everyone who suggested drakewarden, i think the change made it a much better piece! 💛

karlach

[rika-mortis]

Bonus:

[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!

[cutie-lumi]

Fem!Crazy B x Le Sserafim art bc i just think this song suits them Perfectly 👌✨

[daily-odile]

Happy Mira day!!!! Have a mira sketch I never posted + correctly themed pencil doodles cause I don't have access to my laptop

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what kind of underwear do you think Erik and Charles wear (i'm not asking this to see them half naked) ((please believe me)) (((PLEASE)))

My Personal Belief is charles is a briefs guy while erik's a trunks guy. trunks/briefs kinda couple because i can

and idk just a lil bonus or somethin. as i do.

[artofalassa]

The Feather

Aaand next part! Look who finally showed up... <3

Part ONE | Part TWO | Part THREE | Part FOUR | Part FIVE | Part SEVEN

[nipuni]

Photos at Madrid's Victory ball! 💃

We attended our first ball! It was such a dreamlike experience!! It was also our first time doing Regency reenactment so it was a challenge. We haphazardly put together some looks, had a great time learning more about the fashion and the dances and met a bunch of lovely people from all over the world. The palace was stunning, the live band was wonderful and the food delicious, it was an unforgettable night 🥰

[plushri]

edited 22/02/2024 - my mum helped me raise the match goal from £100 to £200

edited again 22/02/2024 - I met and exceeded my goal! Donations are still very welcome because I think it's really impactful to show our collective donations, I will close this on the 27th when I am paid and can make my donation

Idea credit goes to @ibtisams and I was inspired by @stuckinapril and @geekydragon !

I am doing a donation match!

I will match every pound donated, from now until next week, up to £200! I will donate £50 regardless of the outcome.

-

1. Donate any amount you can to one of the places below:

UNRWA | Palestine children's relief fund | esims (link is a how to guide!) | Operation olive branch (any family that resonates with you)

2. Send me proof/receipt showing the date and amount, cross out any other information you wish

(currency does not matter, I will convert it and donate the equivalent in GBP)

3. I will update in the reblogs how much has been donated so far, and will make my matched donation on the 27th of February (when I get paid the money I plan to donate)

I'm currently planning on splitting my donation across the above sources, but I will donate £200 total.

-

If we meet the match goal we will raise £400 for people who desperately need it right now! It's easy to feel a small donation doesn't help, so hopefully this is a way to illustrate how it all does really add up.

Any amount helps, if you have £1 to spare please do, but if you can donate more I urge you to

If you have nothing to spare, please reblog and do your daily click

[twisting-in-wonderland]

Silver + glasses = wise old man trope...

. this has been a wip for like. weeks - i had no energy left to finish it properly lol so i'm posting it as is-----

'bonus' (VERY. UNFINISHED- )

[neonlazycat]

LDR moon by @spadillelicious

Guys.....I caved in

[obsob]

there he is......the man of the house

[d0d0-b0i]

eughrhghh….frontiers….

[swampthingking]

andrew’s definitely gotten in trouble with his pr manager for tweeting things along the lines of:

“no mania inducing medication will compare to the euphoria i will feel the day donald trump drops dead”