James

She can dance. She knows it and he does (don’t listen to what he tells you, he’s seen her videos). 

She can roll her hips and flaunt her body and move in time with the heavy thump of the bass and the brightness of a synthesizer.

She knows how to dance.

What she doesn’t know how to do is dance with him. Not at first. It’s silly and she never pegged him as silly, but he gets energetic and alive when he’s acting. He’s full of possibilities and those possibilities include dancing with her between every take on set. 

Just grabbing her waist and spinning her around and laughing because it feels good to laugh under the circumstances–pressure on a series reboot, pressure on her from the press, pressure on him for being different, pressure and expectations that are overwhelming. 

So they dance.

Hearts full and feet light and her head pillowed on his chest and his arm around her waist and his hand in hers and they’re dancing and creating their own music and it’s the most cathartic thing she’s done in her life.

It never goes beyond that–just a bit of dancing between friends.

Except she wants more and she thinks he wants more and they want to dance dance. They move together perfectly–well, as perfectly as they can. She steps on his toes and he laughs and hauls her closer to his body and murmurs in her ear, “Good thing I’ve got boots on, ta?" 

She starts getting bold in her dance moves–starts slipping her hand beneath his jacket, then beneath his jumper, and finally beneath his undershirt (so many layers) so that her skin touches his and its electric and she always thought that was a cliché, but it’s not because her skin is on fire.

And he’s getting bold too. The space between them is getting smaller and smaller as he pulls her body closer and closer to him. He’s started coming up behind her and just wrapping his arms around her and swaying gently, keeping her warm, keeping her grounded and safe.

But no matter how bold they grow, the fact of the matter is that their song is going to end and they won’t dance anymore. 

So on his last day of shooting, when they’re saying goodbyes and she’s trying to keep her heart together for a little bit longer, he finds her (of course he finds her) and he hums in her ear and offers her his hand:

JUST BECAUSE SHE APPLIED IT BEFORE LEAVING FOR THE WEEKEND. ALONE. NO FOLLOWS, NO TOGETHERNESS, HE JUST SAW IN PASSING.

It was over. It just didn’t feel real. Gently placing the big leather coat on the rack he sighed, at least he had Her.

He takes his time looking around, memorizing the faces of all the people he’d worked with, he can see David over by a table animatedly talking to a bunch of the staff.

He smiled, David would be fantastic. He wanders aimlessly for a while, his feet just taking him wherever they wanted and he ends up on the interior TARDIS set.

He strokes the coral struts as he passes them. It’s then that he sees her, knees pressed to her chest and her head resting on her arms, propped against the center console. He can hear the sobbing from across the room.

She stiffens at the sound of his boots clanking on the metal grating of the floor. Plopping down beside her his shoulder brushes hers as he leans back while gently taking her hand into his and giving it a soft squeeze.

“I’m gonna miss this.” His thumb gently strokes the back of her hand as he gazes around the set.

“I guess that’s it then.” Her voice is shaky as she lifts her head and wipes away the tear tracks.

“What we have is done then? Just a fling?” It sounds accusatory and it finally clicks for him.

 So that’s what this is about. He can’t help it, a chuckle rises in his throat and he can’t hold it back.

“’S not funny!” She goes to stand up but he gently tugs on the hand he’s still holding and she falls onto his lap, straddling him. She huffs and is about to pull herself from on top of him but his kiss stops her. The tension melts from her as she leans into him, her arms wrapping around his neck while his hands trail down her back.

But she’s a firecracker–all white hot energy that she can’t control. She’s going to fizzle out by the end of the first mile. 

So he laughs at her and agrees, joking he should have put on a thicker layer of muscle cream before their jog. She laughs and he watches her nose crinkle and there’s a pleasant sort of wave that washes over him and settles somewhere in the middle of his chest.

He’s right, of course, by the end of the first mile she’s panting hard and looking at him like she can’t quite believe she miscalculated so poorly. He decides, just this once, he’ll show off for her. He digs deep, finds that runner’s edge, and increases the frequency of his strides, his trot turning into a gallop and he accelerates far beyond her.

He beats her to the finish line by 15 minutes and he’s already grabbed 2 bottles of water and some fresh fruit off of a nearby vendor at the park, casually waiting for her.

He raises an eyebrow at her and points to his watch. She glares at him, hands on her hips, and sticks her tongue out at him.

“I’ll get you next time. Blimey, I didn’t know you could run like that.”

Deadline 14 June

Subject : collecting money for my father's emergency operation in his head

Current process :

USD 1,699 / $2,513

Vetted by @sar-soor

Vetted by @opencommunion

Vetted by @el-shab-hussein

Urgent Appeal for My Father’s Life 💔

I am begging you from the bottom of my heart, please do not scroll past my father’s suffering.

My father was seriously injured in the head after a nearby bombardment. The injury is severe, and his condition is getting worse. Doctors have told us that he urgently needs surgery as soon as possible to prevent further deterioration and potentially save his life.

We are devastated and completely unable to afford the cost of the operation. The surgery costs $1,200. So far, we have managed to collect $386, but there is still $814 remaining, and we must raise it as quickly as possible before it is too late.

Every moment we wait puts my father at greater risk.

This appeal was originally posted on 30 May 2026, and we are still urgently continuing our effort to gather the remaining amount.

Please, I am pleading with you. If you can donate, no matter how small the amount, you could help save my father’s life. If you cannot donate, please share this appeal with others. Every share may reach someone who can help.

I cannot bear the thought of losing my father because we could not gather the money for his treatment in time. Watching him suffer while feeling helpless is a pain I cannot describe.

Please, help us give him a chance to survive and recover.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.