#zac is such good vibes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clarionglass · 8 months ago

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yeah, we all knew this one was coming. 5395 words, if you're wondering exactly how bad the brain rot has set in ^^;

----- deja vu (sam reich!master cinematic universe, part 2)

Right from the beginning of Game Changer, Sam had had a small monitor in his dressing room where he could watch the show being recorded. He'd always appreciated it being there, but never quite understood the point of having it, if he was going to be on stage hosting the shows himself.

When his doppelganger was hosting, though, being able to watch the show while hidden away was absolutely ideal.

Since Escape the Greenroom, the pair had been less cautious about being seen in the building together. It was always more enjoyable to debrief immediately after a show, and besides, they had their secret weapon. The magic technology that kept anyone from thinking too hard about two Sams in the one place had turned out to be nothing more than a small lump of circuitry attached to a key on a loop of string, and whichever Sam wasn't on set at the time held onto it and watched the session from the dressing room. It was an extra precaution—hell, if everyone knew Sam was in the middle of a recording, why would they be going into his dressing room—but it was handy to have nonetheless.

It didn't work if you knew what you were looking for, though, so when the door creaked open and his doppelganger walked in, pure glee painted across his face from ear to ear, he turned his megawatt smile on Sam straight away.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Good record, was it?”

“Oh, was it ever.”

“Well, great!” Sam replied. “You were pretty keen for this one, glad it lived up to expectations.”

As his double nodded with satisfaction, Sam's eyes flicked back to the monitor, now showing a view of backstage, and Trapp, Ify and Siobhan talking quietly to each other.

Something felt off. They didn't seem distressed or anything bad, bad, but the energy between the three contestants was weirdly muted. As it was for everyone, actually. Josh, Zac, Brian—the general vibe backstage was sitting noticeably lower than usual, particularly with such big personalities in the room.

“How'd the cast take it, though?” he asked. “They all look exhausted, was everything alright?”

His doppelganger flapped a hand dismissively. “Oh, they're fine. It was just a long record.”

“No longer than usual,” Sam said, with a brief glance down at his watch and a frown. “We had seven loops planned, right? And you definitely didn't get through all of them, you only did, what—”

“Five, yeah,” his double agreed, speaking with him. “For the episode, we ended up recording five.”

There was an odd tone in his voice as he said it, an emphasis on the specifics that was just a little too weighted. Sam grimaced.

“I'm sensing there's a but coming.”

“Yeah,” his doppelganger admitted slowly, then grinned, a bright, twinkling expression of pure mischief. “We actually ran a lot more loops than that.”

“Wait,” Sam said, “wait. No, you didn't, I was watching the entire thing.”

“Come on,” his doppelganger shot back, a bite of impatience bleeding into his excitement. “You really think I'd fight to do the fake time loop episode and not throw in a real time loop or five?”

“Oh my god.” It was all Sam could say, and he really couldn't tell if he was impressed, or dumbfounded, or just really fucking worried. “Oh, my god. What did you do?”

The giddy delight shining in his double's eyes as his smile broadened even further, brilliant and infectious and only slightly predatory, did nothing to calm Sam's nerves.

---

The first loop went well enough, and confusingly enough. Weird trivia, questions that clearly had an answer, but no way of working out what that answer was, cameos that didn’t seem to relate to anything—it was strange, but you knew that was what you were getting into when you signed up for Game Changer. Trapp, Ify and Siobhan knew that there was a solution to it, but they’d just have to work until they found it.

And then Sam pulled out that bizarre dance that he expected them all to join in on, and accidentally kicked Kevin’s camera out of his hands, and the three of them shuffled offstage for a two minute reset.

The second loop, the pieces were starting to fit into place. The trivia was a memory tester; the weird questions had answers that could only be worked out with knowledge gained in previous rounds; Zac’s—sorry, Grant’s—spaghetti was going to cause problems by way of Brian’s podium inspector; the list went on.

This time, it was pretty clear that the kick wasn’t accidental.

The third loop, everyone knew they were dealing with loops right from the start.

“I think my watch battery is dead,” grumbled Ify on the t̷͖͗̅h̶̥̔͗i̴͉̞̊r̴̭͘d̵̢͔͌̈́ loop.

Loop aft̵̐͜e̷̘̓r̵̩͊ ḽ̵̞́o̷͉̬̼͈͘ö̸̖̠̭́̈̀p̶̡̣̖͂ ạ̸͌͘f̸̱̲͐͗t̶͈͐̇ẻ̶͇̮̄ř̷̤̗͝ ̷̹̌l̸͎͎̔̀̅̀̀̕ò̸̢̨̜͓̳̮̀̕o̶̮̕p̵̪̫̠̝̘̒͒͗̚ͅ, ad infinitum ad nauseam.

A few loops in, Siobhan watched Brian get paler and paler as he examined the trio of podiums. And this time, he was actually taking the time to look at them properly, not just making an act of peering through that stupid little magnifying glass in order to justify a foregone conclusion. He was acting weird, even for him.

Still, he put a good face on it, declaring each one dirty in increasingly elaborate ways, just as he had every time before. Something had clearly rattled him, though, and it made her uneasy in turn.

“Sir? Excuse me, sir?” she said, just as she had the last few rounds, and smiled sweetly with a dollar bill folded in her palm. As Brian came over, she locked eyes with him, hoping the look was enough to convey her question.

“Camcorder, Jan ‘97,” he muttered as he took the money, and had given her the (bribed) point and hurried backstage before she could ask what he meant.

She knew the video he was referring to, it was one of his. Creepy, definitely, but very well-done, all about rewinding tape and rewriting time. And—yeah, man, duh. This was the time loop episode, apparently, so why state the obvious? And why so cryptically?

Unless… unless it was something to do with time loops that wasn’t to do with the format of the episode.

How long had they been recording, anyway? All their phones were in the box backstage, Ify’s watch was dead, she wasn’t wearing one at all, and with her and Trapp on the outside podiums, there was no way she could ask him without making it look stunningly obvious. But it had been a while, for sure, and Sam wasn’t showing any of his usual signs of wanting to usher the recording session towards a natural conclusion.

If anything, he was looking wolfishly pleased with the way things were turning out. He'd even favoured Brian with a wider grin than usual, where Brian's own smile had been kind of watery.

Another part of that video, Siobhan couldn't help but recall, was that sinister, looming silhouette.

Through more and more loops, and the brief interludes they were granted backstage, they’d worked out the rules, sort of. People weren’t affected by the loops resetting, they carried through pretty much as normal. Objects didn’t, though. Things on the set, like the ducks, the money in their envelopes, and the spaghetti stuck to their podiums, reset to the state they were at at the beginning of what they’d begun to call “Loop 3.0”. Things brought across the threshold of the set, like Zac/Grant’s plate of spaghetti, or Josh’s balloons, reset as soon as they crossed over that boundary.

Josh hadn’t had a good time when he realised that one. While the contestant cast and the cameo cast were kept separate backstage, the contestants had to assume that Brian would have told them everything he’d worked out. The next loop after Brian had given his hint to Siobhan, the contestants had to watch a very good character actor try to keep control of the creepy clown role while going through a moderate existential crisis. It was uncomfortable to watch, stuck at their podiums and unable to help. At least they could mutter a few words of encouragement each time they went up to pop a balloon, and the same with Zac and Brian each time they came by to mess up or inspect their podiums.

It was good to have that connection, brief as it might have been. They might have been stuck, but at least they were in this fuckery together.

The crew, though, seemed to be immune from feeling the weirdness they were caught up in. Or—no. Not immune. Exempt. They weren’t trapped in the loop, they were part of it, moving along their set tracks like automata. It took the cast a while to work that one out, because Sam kept time perfectly, interacting with Ash when she brought out the contraption and the jar of beans as if they were having a normal, fluid conversation. But then Ify spotted that the camera operators were moving completely out of sync with the cast, and Trapp noticed that only Sam’s half of the interaction with Ash ever changed, and the illusion fell apart from there. The crew wouldn’t be a lifeline.

And speaking of Sam… Fuck, it was a hard one to swallow. He was their boss, their friend, and they’d all known him for years—hell, he’d come through for each of them multiple times. Until now, he had been pretty unequivocally a Good Guy. But it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the signs that Sam Reich was the puppeteer of this entire shitshow.

He was still pretending to not know what anyone meant when they expressed frustration with the loops, but the words were accompanied by a twinkle in his eye that said he knew exactly what was going on, and was staunchly refusing to help. He was delighting in their discomfort, even more so now the cast knew just how fucked they really were.

He looked like Sam, he sounded like Sam, every single mannerism was something that the cast knew intimately. But the personality driving his actions was wrong. Maybe this guy wasn’t Sam at all. Fuck, if they’d suddenly been catapulted into a reality where time loops were real, maybe so were evil clones, or brain-snatching parasites, or—no, the magician great-grandfather lore from Escape the Greenroom was still a stretch too far. But given the choice between believing that a weird sci-fi plotline was true, when another one was literally happening around them; or believing that their friend had secretly been some kind of torturer with access to sci-fi tech the entire time they’d known him—the decision wasn’t particularly hard.

“We have to stop him from kicking the camera,” Trapp said quietly, as soon as they had all huddled backstage. “That’s what he’s going with as the trigger.”

“It could be another bluff,” Siobhan interjected glumly. “More fucking misdirection.”

Trapp shot her a look. “You got anything better you want to try?”

“I can get between him and Kevin if I’m quick,” Ify volunteered, the tallest among them by a good half a head, with a build to match.

“See what happens,” Trapp said. “But be careful, yeah? Don’t get yourself hurt.”

“So what’s the way to get out?” Siobhan asked, as Ify nodded his agreement. “There has to be something, I might start killing people if I let myself think this is actually completely random.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Popping the right balloon? Or winning the video game?”

“Or unlocking that,” Ify suggested, nodding to the green chest that had been sitting on the table the entire time.

“Yeah,” Siobhan and Trapp agreed together.

“Cool, so we try and—”

“Sorry, y’all, but I’m supposed to take your phones?” Kaylin interrupted, holding out the box as she always did.

By virtue of podium order, Trapp, then Ify, then Siobhan noticed it as they walked on and gave their introductions. Something had changed.

The point totals on the podiums read 14, 9, 14. The points they’d ended with in Loop 3, not started with. They’d survived it. Time was moving.

“Sam, look over there!” Siobhan exclaimed as she entered, and dragged a couple of boxes onstage with her in no more subtle a way than she did the last time.

Trapp got it, he really did. These loops had been… wearing, was probably the best word for it. “Sadistic” was a bit too harsh, particularly when nothing actually bad had been happening (and to be honest, he didn’t even want to risk thinking too badly of the person who seemed to be pulling all the strings in this scenario, in case he somehow noticed, and decided to turn the heat up), but… yeah. Wearing. So he understood why Siobhan might be trying to keep things the same. Making the group less fun for their host to play with.

The trivia rounds were chaos, as always, and passed in a jumble of noise that Trapp was only half focused on. A quiz show was still a quiz show, even if it had descended into some kind of weird time loop purgatory, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to be first on the buzzer regardless. Maybe the points were the way to get out of this whole shitshow, who could say. But when Ify and Siobhan started to have their exact same argument over the equation question, complete with Ify’s triumphant twerking, Trapp felt his stomach rise into his throat, as if once again, the ground had been cut out from under him.

“Yeah, Solzhenitsyn,” Siobhan nodded in response to a question he hadn’t asked, and his blood went cold.

Sam, or possibly ‘Sam’, looked him dead in the eye and winked.

“Next up, there’s a little game I have just for Mike Trapp,” he said with a smirk.

Tinny music started up, and the bright colours of that infuriating video game popped up on the screen, but Trapp didn't care. There wasn't any point in pretending now.

“You fucker,” he said, walking close to eyeball the host. “You mother fucker.”

‘Sam’ just wheezed with laughter, exactly as the real Sam Reich would when a contestant insulted him out of annoyance at the game, and for the briefest of moments, Trapp had his doubts. Everything about this man said Sam Reich, every tiny detail. Had he really been hiding this all along?

“You were doing great playing as a team,” ‘Sam’ said once he'd regained his composure, looking at Trapp with wide-eyed sincerity. “But that's not really the point of the game, now, is it?”

No. Sam, actual Sam, wouldn't do this to his friends.

“What have you done to them?”

“To them? Nothing,” whoever the fuck this was said brightly. “To the studio, though… Well, it would take too long to explain, and you wouldn’t understand most of it anyway. Let’s just say I can run this whole place like a VCR, and the only two people who wouldn’t be caught up in it right now are you and me, bud.”

“That’s fucked up,” Trapp said, as Ash, deaf and blind to their conversation, came out with the giant jar of beans. “That’s just fucked. Let them go.”

“Aw, but they’re probably having a better time than you are right now,” ‘Sam’ said, mock-serious. “They think time’s finally moving ahead for them, remember? And anyway, do you really want to be arguing with little old me when you’re wasting your one chance to earn points without any competition? It is an individual game, after all.”

Trapp’s eyebrows shot high. “Are you saying only one of us gets out of this? You sick fuck.”

‘Sam’ just shrugged and smiled, looking meaningfully at the empty podium. “Do you want to risk it? The choice is yours, Trapp, but time's a-ticking.” His smile flashed. “Or maybe it isn't.”

“Next up, there’s a little game I have just for Ify Nwadiwe,” ‘Sam’ announced.

Yeah, no shit. Ify wasn’t an idiot, even if his point total was sitting below his fellow contestants’. He’d been checking his not-actually-dead watch at the start of every loop, so he knew right from the off that even though their host had been gracious and let them pass through one gauntlet, it sure didn’t mean that the time fuckery had finished.

This run, though, was looking extra screwed up. Siobhan arguing loudly with him about things he didn’t even say this time was the final confirmation. He was alone in this loop, just him and the guy who was running the show.

He knew that ‘Sam’ knew that he knew that he was the only person who wasn’t stuck. So he waited, staring flatly at the person who had taken over the host’s podium, watching to see what move he would make.

‘Sam’ just smiled. “Left or right?”

Alright, so that’s how he was going to play it. Yeah, no, absolutely not.

“Nah, nah, nah,” Ify said instead of engaging, because it didn’t really matter. In his peripheral vision, the game kept scrolling through. “Fuck that. What’s the win condition? What do we need to do to get out of here?”

“Play the game,” ‘Sam’ replied.

“Shut the fuck up, man.” Ify shook his head, and ‘Sam’ chuckled like he’d told a good joke. “We’ve already done that, and it’s got us exactly fuckin nowhere. You put us in this thing for a reason, so there’s gotta be something you want to see happen.”

‘Sam’ blinked at him innocently. “Who says this isn’t exactly it?”

Ify took a deep breath. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying we’re in here, doing the same shit over and over again, until you feel like you’ve had enough?”

“In a nutshell,” ‘Sam’ beamed, “yes.”

“Fuck you, man,” Ify said, shifting his weight to lean more heavily on the podium. “Fuck you.”

“Noted,” ‘Sam’ said brightly. “But I wouldn’t spend too long being mad at me, because—” he broke off, giving the front of Ify’s podium a significant look, “—you’ve got quite a lot of ground to make up, in… well. Who can say how much time?”

“Fuck you,” Ify repeated, and ‘Sam’ just laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Ify was taking too long to name a goddamn Keanu Reeves film, again, and Siobhan had had just about enough. So when he stalled, and stalled, and still came up with the same title he’d answered in the last round, grinning like he’d just got one over on her, she could have screamed.

And then she remembered where she was, and who was asking the questions, and her heart sank. They weren’t done yet, apparently, and this time she was completely on her own.

She playacted the rest of the argument, that and the equation question, and hated the fact that even to her own ears, she was sounding more and more shrill as she shouted, because yeah, it’s panic-inducing to continue a screaming match with someone who doesn’t even register that you’re there. Every word was another reminder that she was trapped.

And then the melodrama stopped, and ‘Sam’ smiled at her. “Next up, there’s a little game I have just—”

“—for Siobhan Thompson?” she finished with him, voice dripping with sarcastic surprise, just like she had in Loop 3.0.

“That’s right!” ‘Sam’ said happily. “Now. Left, or right?”

“No,” Siobhan said.

The man in front of her raised his eyebrows. “No?”

“You’re not Sam, which means I’m not fucking playing. So, who are you?”

“Sam Reich,” he answered quickly, easily, naturally.

Siobhan frowned. “No. Bullshit. Who are you?”

“Sam Reich,” he repeated, sounding somehow even more sincere, and genuinely confused that Siobhan would be asking. Fuck that. She wouldn’t take it. Couldn’t take it.

“No. Bullshit. Try again! Who the fuck are you?”

This time, instead of doubling down, he paused. “Do you want to know a secret?”

After a moment, she nodded warily. He beckoned her close, and slowly, cautiously, she left her podium, walking up to this devil in the shape of a game-show host. Close enough to see his eyes properly, and how truly, deeply old they were.

“Even if I told you,” he stage-whispered, those ancient eyes sparkling with terrible glee, “it wouldn’t make a single bit of difference.”

“Did you just—”

“Yeah. And—”

“Yeah.”

The three of them were once again huddled backstage, debriefing.

“So, are we allowed to do this?” Trapp asked quietly. “Because he seemed pretty against the idea of us working together.”

“Didn't say anything to me,” Ify shrugged. “And I don't see another way of getting out of this if we don't share stuff. And even then—sorry, but I think we're here til he wants to let us go.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Ify said. “Because we got the game, we got the key, we opened the chest, and here we all are again, so I dunno what we have to do. I asked him point blank about the win condition, and—”

“He made it sound like the points, to me,” Trapp interrupted.

Ify nodded. “Me too. But he also pretty much said we're here because he's having fun. I don't think the points are it.”

“So we can lose, but we can't win.” Siobhan's voice was dull.

“C'mon, Siobhan,” Trapp said encouragingly. “We'll get out of it. We've gotta have hope.”

Siobhan just looked flatly at him.

“Look, there are silver linings, okay?” Trapp insisted. “Not many, sure, but enough to look for. Like, because it means our actual friend isn't fucking with us—this guy isn't Sam, that's for sure.”

“I'm not…” Siobhan started, and winced. “This is going to sound bad. But I'm not even sure he's human.”

Ify exhaled deeply.

“Don't give me that,” Siobhan snapped reflexively, and Ify raised his hands placatingly.

“I'm not saying I don't agree,” he said. “It checks out. But it's heavy going, that's all.”

Siobhan nodded, looking calmer. “He still wouldn't say who he is, but… I saw him. The real him, up close. And yeah, he's the spitting image of Sam, but… fuck. People don't look like that behind the eyes.”

“Jesus,” Trapp breathed.

She just nodded wordlessly in reply, and despite knowing that it was costing them valuable discussing time, all three lapsed into silence. What could you say to that sort of revelation?

“The microphone,” Ify said abruptly, and Trapp and Siobhan’s eyes both swung to him. “I mean, I’ve still been thinking about win conditions. Or at least how he’s controlling the loop, and how we can use that.”

“He said he can run it like a VCR,” Trapp added. “But I’m not sure how, I assumed it was something in his podium—”

“But he keeps drawing attention to the microphone,” Ify continued. “Every single goddamn loop.”

“So we break it,” Siobhan said decisively.

Trapp made a face. “Or steal it?”

“Whatever. Either way, we get it out of his control.”

“Sorry, y’all,” came a familiar voice, and they all had to stifle a groan. Planning time was over.

The game started back up again, and—the point totals were as high as they remembered. The set was just as dirty. All promising signs.

And then their host’s eyes turned to Siobhan after Ify’s successful run at the video game, and her stomach clenched. Even though the time loop continuing was the worst possible scenario, departures from his routine were never a positive thing.

He gave her an indulgent look. “But, Siobhan.”

She was focused, she was prepared, she could handle whatever he threw at her. “Yes.”

“Because it is the last round of our game…”

Oh.

The buzzy little chiptune started up again, but to Siobhan, Trapp and Ify, it didn't mean a thing. The words “last round” rang in their ears sweeter than any music.

All of them knew it was probably false hope. Nonetheless, it was better than nothing. Something to cling to as they trod the motions of the remaining questions.

And then the cameo cast and all the crew came onstage when the wenis music played, and that certainly had a grand finale type feel to it; and Kevin didn’t get kicked in the face, no matter how much he was darting around in what had suddenly become a minefield of flailing limbs; and whatever it was that was wearing Sam Reich’s face led them all through more repetitions of the routine than usual, radiating manic joy the entire time.

“And stop!” he yelled as the music cut out, throwing his arms wide and looking around frantically as if the camera remaining intact had any fucking bearing on the time loop whatsoever. “Kevin, did we get that?”

The cameraman pulled open the now heavily duct-taped camera body, then looked up, scripted embarrassment mingling with scripted regret. “There’s no tape in the camera.”

And with that, their host turned away from him to look straight down the barrel of the main camera, favouring it with an open smile of pure, uncomplicated enjoyment; the sort of smile that invited you to share in it with him, no matter how strong the hatred that burned in your veins. “That brings us to the end of our show!” he announced happily. “Our winner tonight: Mike Trapp!”

“No-one’s a winner,” Trapp cut in, shaking his head. “No-one’s a winner here today.”

But even so, he was presented with a cool watch, and the confetti cannons went off, and they left the set for longer than two minutes and weren't called back at all, and finally, finally, they could let themselves believe it.

The loop was broken. They were free.

---

“What did I do?” Sam’s doppelganger repeated, pausing for a moment to think. “Oh, nothing awful.”

Normally, Sam would be content to let that slide. But just lately, he’d been getting a weird feeling from his doppelganger, and there was too much grey area between ‘something good’ and ‘nothing awful’ to be comfortable. “No, seriously.”

“We just ran the recording a few more times,” his double huffed, his smile fading—not quite impatient, but visibly put out, somehow, like he didn’t feel sufficiently appreciated. “Look at them, they’re fine.”

“I am looking at them,” Sam said. “And that’s why I’m asking. They’re my friends, I can tell when something isn’t right.”

His doppelganger hummed briefly, moving next to him to come and look at the monitor, and—just for a flash, less than a second—Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck rise when his double passed behind him.

“Maybe you're right,” he said slowly, after watching the feed for a few seconds. “Okay, I'll fix it. I'll have a chat to them.”

Sam exhaled, relief washing over him. Of course there wasn't anything to be worried about.

“Thanks,” he said.

His double just smiled faintly and nodded, then left the room.

Sam turned back to the monitor, waiting for the moment a minute or so later when his double would appear in the frame. And sure enough, he did. The sound setup was only piped in from the stage, and even then it wasn’t the best quality, so Sam didn’t have a chance of hearing what was actually being said. But he watched as, without exception, every single cast member flinched when his doppelganger touched them lightly on the shoulder to get their attention.

The conversations were quiet, with a gentle sort of intensity. His double seemed to be focused on making sure each person felt acknowledged—Sam couldn’t recall him breaking eye contact with anyone he was speaking to—and whatever he said, it seemed to work. One after another, he spoke to all the cast, contestants and cameos, leaving calm in his wake. And when he had talked to the last one, and everyone looked settled and genuinely at ease, he shot a look of pure satisfaction towards the backstage camera, and headed out of view.

“Thank you,” Sam said again when his doppelganger returned to their dressing room, and received a gracious nod in reply. “Just out of curiosity, though—what did you tell them? Because fuck, it worked like a charm!”

His double tilted his head, half-smiling. “Oh, you know. All the right things. That I was very sorry for anything that might have gone weird during the recording, that I wasn’t feeling like myself, that it’ll never happen again… Oh, yeah—and then I wiped their memories.”

Sam coughed. “You what?”

“Wiped their memories,” his double repeated matter-of-factly. “It was the simplest solution, really. Everyone stays in continuity, they’re blissfully free of any… more troubling memories, our cover isn’t blown—it’s perfect.”

“No, hang on, you can’t—”

“I can, and I did,” his doppelganger replied. “I fixed the problem—which you asked me to, I might add—and now everyone’s back to their regular happy selves. It’s a totally closed system. The only person who knows it happened at all is me. Oh, and you, of course.”

Sam frowned.

“Besides, this way, you don’t have to worry about having to work out the overtime for a time loop, because they’ve got no idea what the extra pay would even be for,” his double added breezily before he had a chance to say anything, then snapped serious. “And don’t look at me like that, Samuel Dalton Reich, because you were thinking about it. I know you.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t deny it. The tiny part of his mind that was always in Dropout CEO mode had been grappling with the ethical and financial implications of a time loop and getting nowhere, and the relief of not having to deal with it was like a fist unclenching.

“See?” his doppelganger said, meeting his eyes with a pointed sort of kindness. “I know what I’m doing, Sam, I’ve been doing it for a very long time. And it’s better for everyone like this.”

“I don’t—” Sam started, faltering. On the one hand, there was something intuitively and viscerally horrifying about his friends having their memories wiped. But on the other…

“If you don’t want to know,” his double said softly, and god, it gave Sam the shivers to hear his own voice used that way, “there is a way around it. I thought you’d rather be a part of everything that’s going on, but…”

His eyes caught and held on Sam’s like magnets, and—something had shifted behind them, something small, but with a seismic effect. He was pinned by that gaze, trapped, electrified; wholly unable to look away.

“I can do the same for you as I did for them.”

On the other hand… his double was right. It was kinder, probably, if they didn’t remember whatever they went through, and in that moment, he realised he couldn’t even begin to guess what that was. And… it was definitely easier.

“No,” he said, and when the word came out as a whisper, he cleared his throat and tried again. “No. It’s okay.”

His doppelganger blinked, and the spell was broken.

“Great!” he said brightly, back to his usual cheerful self, with all traces of that scary side—that dangerous side—folded neatly away. “You know, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you—you’ve been so much fun to work with, it would have been a shame to have it all come to nothing.”

And Sam, feeling like a marionette with its strings cut, hated the fact that he agreed. Even with everything that had happened lately, he couldn’t deny that the electricity that came from working with his doppelganger, the sizzle of pushing ideas just that bit past the boundaries and laughing uproariously at the result, was liberating. Exhilarating. Addictive, almost, a heart-racing excitement that sang in his blood.

Maybe the danger was part of the game. And as long as nobody came to any harm, he could keep playing.

“Just… promise me one thing, okay?” he started, and his double turned wide, patient eyes on him. “Promise me I won’t have to see anything like that again. There’s nothing we can do to change this now, but I can’t let it happen again, yeah? They’re my friends, and there’s a line.”

“Sure,” his doppelganger agreed. “You’re right. And I do like them, so—hm. I’ll treat them like I would my own friend.”

“Thanks,” Sam replied, finally letting the tension drain out of him. “That means a lot.”

His doppelganger just nodded in acknowledgement, then clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “C’mon. We’ve got more work to do.”

----- missed an installment of the sam reich!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): you are here!

#sam reich!master #doctor who #dw #the master #game changer #dropout #sam reich #clari speaks #clari writes #turns out you can take the girlie out of the horror genre but you can't take the horror genre out of the girlie #not my fault time loops and memory wipes are inherently horrific #once again i include the disclaimer: mr sam reich sir if you see this i am so sorry but i have no regrets #game master

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joeys-babe · 1 year ago

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Joey B Blurbs: Can’t Help Falling in Love

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Summary: You surprise Joe when he gets home from practice by putting on your wedding dress from your wedding back in March of 2022.

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Into The Mystic

A/N: Joe isn't injured.

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*December 30th, 2023 - 22 weeks pregnant*

(y/n’s pov)

Joe was currently away at an early morning practice, preparing for the Chief’s game tomorrow.

The team would be getting on a plane for Kansas City tonight, and Zac called an ‘emergency’ practice this morning.

Since Joe was away, I was doing some seriously needed deep cleaning in the house.

Tyson and Miles’s room would have to be last to be cleaned since they wouldn't be up for a while.

I will never take for granted the fact that the terrible twos don't seem to be a thing to the twins. They're closer to three and have remained their happy selves.

The reason I mention this is because when they do wake up, they'll happily help me clean their room without being asked.

My heart warmed when I walked into what will be our baby girl’s nursery once she's born and old enough to be moved out of Joe and I’s room.

The walls were painted a cream color with an accent wall of vintage floral wallpaper.

Joe was the one who approached me with the idea, and I loved it.

Her name had a vintage feel, so her nursery having the same vibe was perfect.

One thing about our baby girl is that she was already 100% a daddy’s girl.

She loved it when Joe talked to my stomach, as she would kick after every sentence that left his mouth.

Joe ate every bit of it up, already taking his girl-dad role very seriously. He was so involved in my pregnancy, making sure to be there for his wife and beloved baby girl.

He just loved her so much.

My thoughts made me smile to myself as I looked around her unfurnished room and absentmindedly rubbed my bump.

Soon, I snapped out of my thoughts and remembered my cleaning.

——

After getting Joe and I’s bedroom and bathroom cleaned, it was time to move onto the closet.

I saved it for last because I knew it was going to be a doozy.

With constant packages of clothing items arriving at the house for Joe’s game-day fits, there was always a huge stack of boxes in here.

Usually, after the stack reaches a certain height, Joe would take them out to the dumpster.

Lately, though, he's fallen behind on his duties, and the stack was huge.

After clearing that out, I started going through my side of the closet, knowing Joe wouldn't exactly be happy if I moved his stuff around.

I knew I'd find some gems, doing a deep clean in my closet, but I didn't expect to find my wedding dress.

It looked just as beautiful as I remembered and it took my breath away.

Joe and I’s wedding back in March of 2022 was an absolute dream. We were so happy, nothing could sour our moods.

We looked back at our wedding photos all of the time, watching the videos of our vows being one of our favorite things.

I remembered a video I'd seen on TikTok last night of a wife putting on her wedding dress to surprise her husband, and I immediately decided to do it.

That is if the baby bump and growing boobs allow this dress to fit me.

It wouldn't necessarily be a prank or the usual trends that I've tried in him, so it would be a good change.

——

A few hours later, Tyson and Miles had been awake for a while, and we all got their room cleaned.

Joe would be home soon because he told me what time practice ended before he left this morning.

That being said, I was now upstairs trying to slip my wedding dress on.

Thankfully, the bodice part of the dress didn't quite reach my belly, so it was perfectly hidden under the skirt. I was a little surprised that my growing chest was able to stay contained under the fabric since I'd had to buy bigger bras since getting pregnant.

I didn't even attempt to try to zip the back of the dress up, though.

Moments later I could hear my phone ringing in the bedroom, and I had to practically waddle my way over there to get it.

It was Joe calling, probably telling me that he was on his way.

“Hey, Joey.” - you

“Hey, Mama. Just wanted to tell you that I'm leaving practice right now. I should be home in a bit.” - Joe

“Oh okay, how was practice?” - you

“As good as practice can be, I guess.” - Joe chuckled

I laughed along with him before he started talking again.

“How’s your day been? The boys and baby girl doing good?” - Joe

“We’re perfect. Just miss you. Princess has been a little restless today, probably wanting to talk to her daddy.” - you

“I miss you guys too, Imma be home soon. I promise to be with you till I have to leave tonight.” - Joe

“Okay. I love you, Joe. Be safe.” - you

“I will be. I love you too, so much. See you soon, my love.” - Joe

“See you soon. Bye.” - you

“Bye, baby.” - Joe hung up

Now I just have to wait.

——

I sat on the couch to the best of my ability, waiting for Joe to get home when I heard the garage door opening.

Tyson and Miles jumped off of the couch to go greet their dad, and soon I could hear that deep voice coming from the mud room.

“Where's your momma at?” - Joe

“Couch.” - Miles

A few moments later Joe’s heavy footsteps got louder and his tall frame was in my view.

His eyes lit up, and he stopped in his tracks when he saw me. Joe’s mouth dropped open into a taken-aback huge grin.

“Baby… woah. You look... woah.” - Joe

I stood up and walked closer to him, his eyes never once leaving me.

“y/n, you look so beautiful. I don't even know what to say.” - Joe

Standing on my tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips, Joe wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Where’d your bump go?” - Joe laughed

I turned to the side and flattened my hands around it, causing Joe to laugh and reach for it.

Joe rubbed over my bump for a second before pulling his hand back to take in everything.

“I’m not even gonna lie though, I will need your help taking this thing off.” - you

“Wouldn't be the first time.” - Joe smirked

“Joseph Lee!” - you playfully hit his arm

“I’m not lying though!” - Joe

——

Later, after Joe helped me out of my dress, he gave me something that he had brought home but forgot to give me because he got distracted by me in my dress.

It was some Mexican food that he had picked up pm his way home from practice since I had told him this morning that I was craving it.

Now, we were sitting on the couch together as I ate.

“Thank you for this.” - you took a bite of your chimichanga

“You’re so welcome, Mama.” - Joe kissed your cheek

A few seconds of silence went by as Joe stole a bite of my chimichanga.

“Did my wedding dress look good on me still? After having twins and currently being pregnant, I don't even want to know how different it looks on me.” - you

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe giving me a stank face, and I couldn't help but laugh when I turned my head to face him.

“What’s that look for?” - you laughed

“You’re fucking with me, right? Like you're joking?” - Joe

“No?” - you

“y/n. No matter how many changes your body has gone through you are as beautiful as the girl I dated in high school, all through college, and the girl I said I do to. Wanna know why?” - Joe

“Why?” - you

“Because you're the same girl you were before you had our babies. And to be completely honest with you, those changes make you even more gorgeous than before. To me, you don't have any imperfections because I love every part of your body. Those little stretch marks you complain about? They are a reminder of your body growing to accommodate your babies. Your belly getting bigger? That's home to our princess. I say all that to say this. y/n you are the most beautiful woman on this planet, and I love you so much.” - Joe

Joe wiped the tears that were dripping down my cheeks. They were happy tears time ten.

“I didn't mean to make you cry on your chimichanga.” - Joe

I laughed and leaned into his touch, savoring the feel of his skin against mine.

“They're happy tears, Joe, and thank you for the pep talk… I needed that.” - you

“I know you did, baby. Now finish your food, Imma talk to the baby.” - Joe leaned down and looked at you, asking for permission to lift your shirt

“Go ahead.” - you grinned

What would I do without him?

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Authors note: more of an imagine than a blurb but whatevs

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #cincinnati bengals #joey b #joe burrow fan fic

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moxidi-fanarts-and-sketches · 6 months ago

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I'm an animation student so each time i experience a non-visual media i wonder How Would I Make This As A Cartoon, which means that when i watch fantasy high i imagine it as a dropout original cartoon and wonder which cast members would be good for the npcs (it would've been funny to have brennan voice all of them but i think a bigger voice cast would be cooler), so here's my voice claims for the bad kids' families and friends:

The Abernants: maybe Matt Mercer for Angwyn?? I haven't seen cr or any of his d20 campaigns yet but when i think fantasy politics i think of him,, idk who would suit for Arianwen but for Aelwyn i picture Jess Mckenna

The Thistlesprings: both have the exact same voice and are voiced by Brennan. they are an item do not separate

The Gukgaks: hear me out on this. VIC MICHAELIS AS SKLONDA. they play the achetype of a person who tries to stay calm and competent despite all the chaos around them in vip SO well, they would nail this (vic as sklonda might be the reason i made this post). now hear me out again. Grant O'Brien for Pok. He has the exact same charismatic and elegant vibe that Pok has but also Grant "towers over everybody" O'Brien giving a monologue on how difficult it is being small would be HILARIOUS

The Faeths: Brennan should stay as Gilear bc after 3 campaigns of the bad kids dragging him everywhere, he knows how this man should sound perfectly, and for Sandra Lynn i would pick Becca Scott

I have no idea for the Seacasters (though i think Brennan could stay as Bill because of his sick pirate accent and chemistry with Lou) and the Applebees so i'm looking forward to what you guys might come up with!!!

As for non-family characters, i have:

Jacob Wysocki as Ragh: he can be big, loud and angry but also vulnerable and soft, and that's perfect for Ragh. as a bonus he also has good chemistry with Zac!! (see their msn episodes)

Rehka Shankar as Tracker: Rehka has the cool, charismatic energy that would be absolutely perfect for Tracker<3

Sam Reich as Aguefort: do i need to say more.

Josh Ruben as Johnny Spells: he would be PERFECT to capture the "80s bad boy but in an extremely loser way" aesthetic

Now hear me out again: OSCAR MONTOYA AS ALISTAIR ASH. LIKE TO CHARGE REBLOG TO CAST. let Brennan teach him how to do that accent and the Sweet Boy energy would be off the charts

That's all i could come up with, so i want to see what you guys could suggest for the rest of the npcs!!!

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leiflitter · 1 year ago

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hey i need ur felix and oliver and cattonquick headcanon s RIGHT NOW… ❤️

Well uh uh uh there's 200k+ words on ao3 which contains some of this but... under the cut because it's vaguely nsfw in places, keeping this as like... Oxford Ladz.

Felix is shit in bed unless you turn it into a challenge/game, and even then he's lazy as fuck so good luck. Most girls don't care because shagging Felix is like being chosen by a god. His routine is: snog for a bit, maybe shove his hand down your knickers, then it's the Catton Jackhammer asap until he rolls off you and falls asleep.

Going out with Felix is generally shit. He shags you maybe 4 times, then ghosts you and you find out he's moved on by seeing him fingering another girl outside of a club at 2am. He might buy you something, but the most expensive gift he'll get you is most likely some shots or a 3am kebab.

Oliver? Good in bed because he is An Observer and will see what works then Do That Until You Die. However, he only really sleeps with girls to help Felix out (he gets the friend, Felix gets the hot girl). He mostly thinks of Felix when he does this, but tells himself it's in a lie back and think of england way. He also tends to stick to hands/mouth stuff, because otherwise it's "why aren't you hard" and he panics.

Oliver is perpetually single, despite Felix's best efforts. Felix does not understand why girls have such bad taste. He insists Ollie is an absolute legend and anyone would be lucky to have him. He also gets oddly grumpy if any girls DO organically hit on Ollie, though.

Felix's short-lived "girlfriends" all think it's a little weird that Felix touches Oliver more than he touches them. Like he won't hold hands in public, but he's got his arm around Oliver all the time? Weird. If you're dancing with Felix and go to get a drink, most of the time he'll be dancing with Oliver once you're back and it is hard to get his attention back.

Felix gives me vague adhd vibes, maybe dyslexia, but he was born in the 80s and he's rich af, so it's never really mattered because he never has to try.

Big Oliver Autism vibes, the man is MASKING but again... circumstances mean he's just brute forcing things.

Felix has been made to play Team Sports but doesn't like them unless it's for silly reasons.

Oliver likes exercising, but mostly goes to the gym to be in a weird little physical activity enduced void.

Felix has honestly been bi as fuck forever, but never really considered why he was down to let lads in his dorm snog him back in boarding school because it was just kinda the done thing. Haha, just hormones, amiright?

Both of them feel vaguely destined to become their fathers and do not want to do that.

Felix had very weird feelings for Damon Albarn as a teen but again. Never thought about it too hard, he's just a pretty man, bloody hormones again!

Oliver cannot drive. He refuses to drive. He has his provisional licence for ID and that's IT.

Felix is often trying to annoy Oliver because any attention is good attention. Oliver just wants to revise, Felix, please stop drawing dicks on his notebook.

Felix absolutely is going full hair-twirly, eyelid-fluttery, dreamboy bimbo at Oliver constantly. Oliver does not pick up on this, but Farleigh does and is honestly a little disgusted.

Speaking of- Farleigh is primarily concerned that he pegged Oliver for an absolute capital-L Loser on day ONE and now his stupid cousin is basically throwing himself at Oliver. Farleigh has theories, including maybe hypnosis or Felix having some sort of brain injury from Team Sports.

Oliver was absolutely bullied in school, but not extremely, because he learned to make himself invisible. Head down, keep going, don't react.

Oliver didn't really GET music until Felix showed him stuff that wasn't just radio pop music. Unfortunately, this was after Oliver spent way too long trying to understand why Steps were so popular.

Oliver's initial haircut is based off of Zac Efron's in High School Musical. He has never seen HSM, but something about Zac Efron made him feel weird, and it just sort of... happened. He has a type, and it's Jawline and Eyebrows.

Felix's first thought upon getting close enough for Oliver to do the Big Blue Eyes Look Up At Him was "oh no," followed by just question marks and bike panic. And also, bi panic.

Farleigh complained to Felix a lot about Oliver but never used his name. It was just "the fucking nerd in my tutorial group".

Oliver honestly didn't connect Farleigh and Felix as cousins, because he was mostly too busy trying not to be painfully in love with Felix to join the dots from a throwaway comment in his first tutorial.

The money in Oliver's wallet at the pub was meant to last for the next two weeks. Boy gotta get lunch and buy bodywash and stuff, not shots for rich kids.

Felix immediately begins relying on Oliver to know his schedule. Oliver just accepts this and sends Felix reminder texts for his tutorials.

Felix keeps leaving hoodies in Oliver's dorm room. This is weird because they are rarely in there for longer than a minute or two. Oliver wears these hoodies because Felix keeps insisting that they'd suit him. Farleigh, yes, sees this and is fucking CONCERNED.

Felix assumes he'll have to get married and have kids as it is his duty to continue the Catton Line. He keeps making weird jokes about his and Oliver's kids getting married.

Oliver says he fancies Kiera Knightley. This is incorrect. Kiera Knightley is just the closest woman he could find to Felix.

Oliver lies to his parents mostly to avoid any visits or needing to go home because going back there is awful and stifling and guilt-inducing.

A few people in their group refer to Oliver as Felix's Pet, but only when neither of them are there. Farleigh started it.

Felix's initial emotional reaction to Ollie's Field Reveal was immense pride and the urge to punch Farleigh in the arm very hard if he didn't stop staring, the pervert. Felix was not staring, he was merely pointing his eyes in that direction, thanks.

Felix always has something in his mouth and it makes Oliver want to die. Most of Oliver's pens and pencils have Felix toothmarks on.

Felix does not understand how much things cost. Oliver does. Oliver wishes Felix would stop picking things up that "made me think of you, Ollie!" Because. Felix. That t-shirt was £50. What is WRONG WITH YOU.

Felix has occasionally considered seeing if Ollie'd be up for a devil's threeway if he found someone willing. He isn't brave enough to ask, because he knows Oliver would say no, but he thinks about the idea a lot. You know. Just a regular wild Uni party thing, right?

If Oliver hadn't gone to Felix, Felix would have turned up sloppy, SLOPPY drunk outside of Oliver's room one night and had a big baby tantrum and probably shoved his tongue down Oliver's throat. It would be the worst handjob of Oliver's life, but also the best.

#leiflitter answers #saltburn headcanons #felix catton/oliver quick #cattonquick #i stand firmly on “felix sucks as a boyfriend” island come fight me #yah!posting

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