#also writing him finally

[rowanisawriter]

why did thanatos… why did he have to say it like That… oughhhhhhh

[stoopidstapler]

SO IVE BEEN GOIN INSANE SINCE THIS TRAILER DROPPED. JUST. SIMON. SIMON. SIMON.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Not beating the allegations.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[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!

[emo-batboy]

A Wild Battinson (Social Media AU)

Part 43 (Masterlist)

(Part 44)

Me, to myself: I just think the series was better when I posted several times a week because the pacing felt more natural, and it translates better when people binge it.

Also Me, holding two jobs and a bat: If you try to post once a day again, I will disconnect your head from your shoulders—

@bruciemilf guess who’s back

Anyways, folks! :D So I'm thinking of a new upload schedule where I spend a bit preparing the next ten or so parts then post it all in two weeks? I think that would be fun (and much better for my creative process.)

I’ll be posting the next part very soon :) But it's going to be drastically different from what I've done before. Let’s see if anyone can guess why.

Yada yada don’t die LOVE Y’ALL

[dekariosclan]

Imagine Gale as a talented and impressive young man, able to compose the Weave at will, skilled in a way that few can match, and favored by the Goddess of Magic herself. Imagine that because of these accomplishments, he’s caught the eye of a few up-and-coming magic adepts, and he falls in love with one of them—his first real love. Gale isn’t one to toss the ‘L’ word around lightly, so when he tells them he loves them, he means it; he gives himself over to them completely.

And in return, they love him for his potential. For his status. For the magic he can command. They love the wizard they see on the surface, but not the man underneath. They are attracted to his power, but not to him.

So of course the relationship fails, after the thrill of his magic wears off. But because Gale is a resilient young man and he’s caught the eye of so many, he soon falls in love with another.

And then it happens again. And again.

And each time Gale’s heart is ravaged, his ambition to become a better wizard grows, because he’s being shown time and time again that his magic ability is all that matters.

So much so that, by the time Mystra decides to elevate him from Favored to Chosen to Lover, he welcomes her with eager, desperate arms. Because if all his worth is in his magic, and that’s all he has to offer, and that’s all anyone wants from him, who better to love him than the Goddess of Magic herself?

Except…there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that whispers she doesn’t really love him. There’s anxiety in his heart as time passes, and he reaches both the limit of what his talents can do and what Mystra will allow him to do. And most troubling of all: a growing panic that, just like his other lovers, she will soon grow tired of him and discard him if he can’t improve his magic any further.

He tries pouting, and pleading, and begging her to let him take more power, to let him be more for her, but she refuses. Smiles patronizingly. Tells him to be patient. But Gale can’t be patient when his power is tied so closely to his self-worth; he can’t be patient when doing so in the past has only ever lead to heartache.

So he does what he believes will be a Grand Romantic Gesture, one that will finally put him on equal footing with the woman he loves. Instead, it turns out to be a folly that dooms him and destroys his talents. And just as he’d always feared, Mystra tosses him aside the moment his magical gifts are gone—because what’s left of him holds no value for her.

————

Imagine Gale in his tower, alone, afraid, the ever-hungry orb in his chest, with only his tressym there to help him. No other friends to speak of. His colleagues forced to keep away for their own safety. His magical talents utterly stripped down, so that even when he does try and distract himself with illusions, he’s bitterly reminded of what he used to be capable of. Waking every morning wondering if it will be his last, ending every day full of loneliness and disappointment.

…and then he meets Tav.

At the lowest point in his life, at his most vulnerable, when he knows he’s going to be considered a burden, he meets this stranger and their group. So he does what he can to be useful—assigning himself to be camp cook, offering up his (now meager) magic skills, turning the charm up to 11—as he desperately hopes this will somehow work out. He’s pleasantly surprised when, after providing only minor details of his condition, Tav agrees to help him. He’s even more surprised when they actually follow through.

Imagine how Gale feels as Tav treats him kindly. As he grows to trust Tav, and then grows to like them. Imagine his surprise as he opens up and shows them more and more of himself, and they don’t turn him away.

But then his condition worsens. And he has to reveal everything: the foolish mistakes he’s made, and how dangerous he is as a result. He clings to Tav’s hand as he shows them his folly. He’s at their mercy now, and he knows this might be the last time he’ll ever feel the touch of another being, if they decide—and Gods, why wouldn’t they decide?—to cast him out.

…but they don’t. They don’t. Instead, they tell him to stay.

Imagine the relief Gale feels. The gratitude. And perhaps…just a hint of something more. Something that he dare not name, but that flares to life every time he thinks of how warm their hand was in his. Something that feels dangerously close to jealousy, when he’s had too much to drink and sees Tav smiling at another…

But he knows these are all foolish thoughts, because he has nothing to offer Tav. They are wonderful just as they are, but he…he is an empty shell of a man, a discarded husk of a wizard, and while they might tolerate him, he could never believe they might actually want him.

And besides, he still thinks of Mystra. He still longs for Mystra. She who cast him out, but to whom he still feels tethered. Sometimes he needs to cocoon himself in the weave, just to try and calm his fears and bring some joy back to his life, because magic is his life. And sometimes he just needs to see her face, even though that hurts as much as it heals.

One night he’s lost in thought, having conjured Mysta’s image after settling down at camp. Thinking that even if she hadn’t ‘loved’ him—certainly not in the way he’d loved her—she’d given him enough otherwise, hadn’t she? She’d amused him and been amused by him, they’d shared countless pleasures, why hadn’t he been satisfied with that?

Gale is so lost in thought he doesn’t realize Tav has come up behind him. Until they ask a question, startling him out of his trance. He’s a bit shaken, so he tries to turn the conversation from Mystra to the weave itself. And then a wonderful idea occurs to him, something that he’d been toying with already: what if they were to conjure the weave together?

He can show Tav how important magic is to him, let them experience what he does, perhaps even impress them a bit. But most importantly, share a moment with them. As friends would do…

He’s elated when Tav agrees. He leads them through the steps effortlessly, and they’re a surprisingly good student, following his instructions correctly (if a bit clumsily). He’s as excited as they are—perhaps even more so!—when they succeed in channeling the weave.

It’s such a pleasant, familiar feeling for him, like coming home to his tower in Waterdeep. Even as the weave connects him with Tav and makes them one, he’s easily able to hide his innermost thoughts, because he’s done it so many times before.

…but he’s forgotten that Tav has not.

————

Imagine Gale knowing every romantic partner he ever had only wanted him because of how he could raise their status, or how he could amuse them, or how he could command magic for them. And, each time, he was happy to oblige them, even desperate to oblige them, because if that was the price of their love, then he was sure it would be worth it.

But it still all came to nothing.

Now imagine Gale connected in an intimate way with someone he likes very, very much—while being what he considers his lowest, most worthless, and most humbled self. As far from the powerful, impressive wizard he once was as he could ever be. And suddenly a vision enters his mind from the lovely creature standing next to him. Only, to his complete and utter shock, it isn’t one where he is providing them with a service, or wowing them with his magical ability, or granting them some kind of power from one of the spells he commands.

Instead, when he sees their desire laid bare before him, it’s a vision of kissing him. Of holding his hand. The two most basic forms of affection and physical connection. The two things that he would still be able to offer them even if every last ounce of his remaining magical abilities were stripped from him. The two things he could share with them even if he was no longer Gale of Waterdeep, and just plain old Gale Dekarios instead.

Imagine the embarrassment and trepidation he feels at first, because surely he is mistaken?…and then the elation when he realizes that he is not. So much elation that his concentration is broken, the weave dissipating as he forgets about channeling it, as he forgets about Mystra. Because all that matters to him now is the image before him—the most pleasant and welcome image he’s seen in a very, very long time.

Imagine how that would feel…and how besotted, enamored and completely devoted he’d be to Tav afterwards. To know that someone finally—finally—just wants him.

Just imagine.

[bluerosefox]

Guys I came up with a new DPxDC AU where we get Deaged!Dani(Ellie), Mom!Cass, and Dad!Danny.

"Cass... Are you sure you want to do this?" Tim asked one more time before he would put the last code in. He knew she was sure, more than willing to deal with it but he just needed one more confirmation before they all started what couldn't be stopped.

Cass stared at Tim, her face straight and her eyes firm without a hint of doubt. She nodded in his direction, despite the growing nervousness in her stomach for a second even with Stephanie squeezed her hand in reassurance and support.

Cass turned her gaze to the little girl, no older than thirteen, suspended in a tank full of green glowing goo and asleep. Her vitals showing up on screens near the tank coming from the wires that were hooked up to her inside the tank.

She said her name was Danielle Masters but had also said she wouldn't mind a new name once she was no longer just a clone but instead Cass's new daughter. She had only asked to include her 'dad', a Danny Fenton/Phantom, in her future naming decision too

Cass took a breath and said softly but determined "Save her."

Tim nodded back and entered the final code into the computer.

-x-x-

Basically-

Cass, while in Hong Kong, finds a destabilizing Dani.

Cass see's the desperation and fear Dani is in and helps as best as she can.

She manages to help but they both seem to know the next time this happens will be Dani's last.

Dani is very, very sick at this point and needs help even standing up.

Cass see's and remembers herself at this age and wants to help.

They do become friends and learn each other backstories

Cass goes to the one person she knows who might to be able to help with the destabilizing clone problem.

Tim, Tim is that person. (Because he's friends with Conner, and no doubt knows Conner's DNA and how it works, AND the fact he tried his hand at the whole cloning thing.... Tim told Cass everything once things settled down after his BruceQuest was done)

They fill him in on what is happening and he starts helping, mostly cause Cass asked and because "Clone rights!" (side note, he asked if its okay to tell Conner, when yes, Conner comes over and chats with Dani the entire time whenever he has free time) (the image of Conner sitting at her bedside as they chat is in my head btw)

Tim finds out the reason Dani is destabilizing so badly is because she's not 'complete', she needs a female donor technically because she's female not male (unlike Conner who is stable because he is male with male donors)

They find out that after trying to see of ways to save her that Cass was the closest that could donate her DNA (they also discover there might be a connection between ectoplasm and the Pits, they don't wanna run the risk of asking a LOA member) (If I remember right Cass grew around the Pits for a while and was even tossed in them after a fight with Shiva)

Tim also brings them news that Danielle's body is rapidly destabilizing due to her body/hormones trying to 'mature' her since she is at that age and she has less than a week.

Everyone knows there is no time to think of trying to save her in any other ways.

Tim says that if they do this, they have to technically 'remake' her body to the actual age she is (a couple months old/a few years old? Depends on the writer) and there was a high chance of her not remembering her old self. That the male DNA in her, the one that seemed to be the most is Daniel 'Danny' Fenton's DNA will be considered father DNA and if Cass does this, her's will be the mother DNA. (Vlad's DNA, because he would try to put his own in, would be 'pushed out')

Cass would become Dani's mother.

Both Cass and Dani talk about it.

Cass wants to help her, she had become friends with Dani and loves her like a little sister already but will try to love her as a daughter as well.

Dani wants to live an actual life.

They agree to it.

Tim sets everything up, Conner is helping around/keeping Dani comfortable/happy.

Cass told Steph and Babs whats happening and they're helping/being supportive once they find out everything.

Meanwhile Tim and Babs has Dick, and Damian go to Amity Park to find out whats happening there/bring Danny to her so they can explain what happened to Dani. (Dick and Damian have no clue why just yet but will find out when they get back, but oh boy is Amity a mess between the GIW, ecto-acts, crazy fruitloop mayor/villain ghost, and other stuff)

Cass and Tim tell Jason and he's helping Alfred (who basically already knows) set up a room for the newest arrival. Jason is gonna stick around if to just see Bruce's face when he gets called a 'grandpa' for the first time.

Duke takes this all in stride when told and just goes along with things now because this is life with the Batfam. He also helps with the room and keeping Dani company until the day.

Bruce was on a space mission thus comes home to find a new group of teens with his kids. One (with black hair and violet/purple eyes) is talking about a purple back gorillas with Damian and swapping vegan recipes, another (wearing a red beanie and has glasses) is getting into tech talk with Tim and Babs, a girl with red hair is talking classic books with Jason and giving Duke advice with school and stress, and another boy (one who could pass as one of his own adopted kids) is cracking jokes/puns with Dick, and telling Steph stories about his Rogues(!?).

Bruce isn't ready when Cass comes up behind him, nearly dancing in her spot and hands him something.

He is given a baby/toddler that looks like Cass but had darker hair and bright blue eyes.

He almost faints when Cass signs to him that he's holding his granddaughter, her baby.

He does faint when Cass notices the signs and takes her baby back before he falls over.

[gojoest]

—reunion ;

how many times was it, you wonder.

that you opened the closet in your shared bedroom and found yourself staring at satoru’s clothes, and teared up because the last time you had them ironed, he was sitting on the bed behind you, throwing silly remarks at how you’re hotter than the steaming iron in your hand. you would roll your eyes and tell him that half of the time you were steaming hot was out of annoyance because he left the toilet seat up. and he would chuckle and say “my bad, love. won’t forget next time”.

that next time never came.

you would tear up every time upon seeing the toilet seat left down. so you got used to his habit and purposely kept it up at all times. because that way the bathroom had more semblance of when he was still around.

you would tear up simply glancing at his toothbrush placed in the holder because the bristles looked too hard and stiff since he didn’t get to use it in a long time. or the sunglasses he left on the nightstand that you couldn’t bring yourself to move and would carefully dust around so you didn’t change the way they were placed. because he left them there. he touched them last.

was it silly to think that as long as they stayed there, part of him would always be in that house? you didn’t know. but you clearly remember the day you had a breakdown in the middle of your kitchen because your friend threw the empty box of kikufuku mochi in the trash. it was the box he bought. the box he ate from. it was just an empty snack wrap, a trash. yet it felt like part of his presence was torn out of your life.

and this morning your alarm goes off. you open your eyes and sigh because you know how the routine goes— get up, see his sunglasses on the nightstand, tear up, wash your face, brush your teeth, see his toothbrush, tear up some more, smile at the toilet seat being up but then cry because it wasn’t him who left it that way but you, see his clothes when picking your outfit, cry, get dressed and go to work with puffy eyes.

but every once in a while, certain circumstances make it so you’re unable to stick to your daily routine. like oversleeping in the morning and then being forced to skip half of the steps in a rush so you don’t run late to work. or missing sunglasses on the nightstand, or the toilet seat left down, or a white-haired man, making pancakes in the kitchen (or an attempt at least).

“is this a dream or..”, you mumble with a shaky voice.

“if i burn the kitchen down— yes! it’s a bad bad dream”

tears build up in your eyes and you quickly rush to nuzzle into his chest, wrapping both arms around him and squeezing tightly.

“you.. you idiot”

“kept my word though— did you see the seat? left it down this time!”

“took you long..”

“my bad, love”, he chuckles resting his chin at the top of your head while squeezing you back into the hug, “but think i need a new toothbrush, this one hurts my gums”

he does need a new toothbrush. and this time you don’t mind throwing away the old one.

[doctorsiren]

give this angle another tri

[mobius-m-mobius]

You wanna hear a good story? Listen to this one.

Mobius + comfort

[saetoshi]

reo is not above asking for kisses. in fact, he begs for them.

it’s a little embarrassing when you’re out in public, really. the way he tugs at your sleeve, whining because you haven’t kissed him in forever (you kissed him before you left your apartment.)

embarrassingly enough, it’s also why you find yourself hidden away in an alley more often than not with reo pressing a flurry of kisses on your lips.

“reo-” you turn your head to the side, trying to catch your breath. he only hums in response before tilting your head back to keep kissing you.

(you’re starting to think you’re going to pass out from the lack of air.)

“reo!” you hiss, tilting your head up, his lips landing on your chin before he huffs, his hand coming up again to gently push you head down so you’re facing him again.

“jus’ one more.” he mumbles, pressing his lips to yours again with a satisfied hum. (he’s said that for the past fifteen minutes.)

(you think he’s becoming spoiled.)

you pull away, turning your head to the side, biting back a smile when he whines as you place your hand over his lips. a soft, slightly annoyed huff leaves your lips when he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand.

"reo." you sigh, looking at him with a frown. "we're gonna be late."

he frowns back at you.

"nagi's gonna be even more late than us!" his voice comes out muffled due to your hand. you hum in confusion before he slowly grabs your wrist and lowers your hand, repeating his words with a pout.

you sigh, slightly shaking your head, "even if he is, i don't wanna make him wait too long for us."

reo groans, resting his forehead on your shoulder. you absentmindedly lift your hand to pat his head in slight comfort.

"do we really have to go now?" he pouts, lifting his head from your shoulder to look at you.

he whines when you nod. he sniffles, "nagi's probably not even there yet!"

"doesn't matter," you hum, smiling when he huffs and crosses his arms, turning away from you with a frown as he grumbles under his breath.

you gently turn his head back to yours, a teasing smile on your lips. "i thought you'd be more excited to see your best friend?"

"i am." he pouts, "i just don't see why that means i can't kiss you."

"you can." you blink, "it's just embarrassing when you beg me to kiss you in the middle of the street."

he lets out a gasp, "no it isn't!

"for you, maybe!" you laugh, poking his nose. "wouldn't you feel embarrassed if i suddenly stopped you in the middle of a busy street, just to ask for a kiss?"

"no!" he huffs, puffing his cheeks out, looking slightly offended at the accusation, "i'd feel flattered."

you roll your eyes, "yeah, right."

he huffs again after a beat of silence, pouting before he steps back and sighs, "fine. let's get going, then."

"wait," you hum, a mischievous smile on your lips as you grab his shirt and pull him close to you again. "aren't you forgetting something?"

you laugh when his face lights up, his hands cupping your cheeks as he leans in, whispering, "one for the road."

(it was not, in fact, one kiss. he started pressing a flurry of kisses on your lips again.

he's too spoiled, you conclude. still, you can't find it in yourself to stop indulging him.)

(though, you're both embarrassed by the time nagi's spamming your phones with calls, asking why neither of you have arrived at the café yet.)

[starry-bi-sky]

more clone^2 memes because i think they're funny

[haveihitanerve]

Renewed Orphan Grief

Clark barely sees it coming. He doesn't even see the hit. Only sees the aftermath. Bruce crumbles. Hard and quick and final. There is a sudden stillness to the battlefield, a hush rippling over everyone, good and bad, villain and hero. The villain pauses, caught off guard. He hadn't expected it to work. He hadn't expected to kill- “BATMAN!!” the screams shatter the silence, cleaving across the battle like knives. Clark turns. Nightwing is barreling towards his fallen former mentor, hardly registering the people he flies over, legs moving in a blur. Red Robin is right behind him, hurtling for Batman as well, almost fast enough to rival a speedster. Robin himself is already there, pushing and pulling and tugging, demanding he “get up!” and “fight!” and “stop playing please father!” Clark cannot stand it. He turns, and sees that there are more than just three voices. “BATMAN!!” Spoiler, the purple demon Bruce had once called her, is running faster than he has ever seen a human, and he can already detect the salty scent of tears. “B!” Red Hood drops his guns, sprinting for the other Gotham hero, the man they all thought was his enemy. Another child appears at his side, silent, undetected, ‘orphan’ Clark’s brain supplies numbly. Batman’s shadow. There’s a sudden roar of defiance and someone new and yet old is there, red hair flowing, metal braces around her legs, a bright yellow bat proudly emblazoned on her chest. The Signal is at her side, and they collapse like alk the others at his side, pulling Robin away and begging, pleading, pushing their life into him, sobbing for him to just “get up, please.” and Clark can’t stand the voice cracks and the shaking sobs, can’t stand the numbness in Red Robin’s eyes and the lack of a smile on Nightwing’s face. The battle resumes, slowly, and suddenly the kids are awake again, tearing across the field like wraiths, ripping through anyone who gets in their way. Clark spots their final destination. The villain does too. He scrambles into his jet, screaming, “go go go!” But its too late. They converge, scrambling up the sides like spiders, nimble and fast and far too agile. There is a silence emanating off them that is unnatural, unheard of. Clark has felt grief before but nothing like the things he can feel wafting off of them, and J’onn falls to his knees, cradling his head in pain as the wave finally hits him. “Please!!!” The villain screams, and they cannot see him anymore, theres a solid wall of bodies between them and his voice. “Don’t kill me!!” At that, they finally pause. “You killed our father.” Nightwing says finally, voice echoing across the expanse. “He had a rule against killing.” Red Hood cracks his fingers. “He might have pleaded your case.” The children, as a whole, step closer. “He’s not here to do that anymore.” Clark covers his ears. 

[crybaby-bkg]

Bakugou asks you to join him during one of his photoshoots for a pro hero campaign. he doesn’t understand the point of it, nor why he has to only be in his underwear, but he doesn’t mind it much when he gets to look over to your shy little face.

you’re propped up in a corner on an old couch, laptop perched in your lap, its glare bright despite the way you never really look at it. you’re supposed to be catching up on some work, but you’ve been distracted by the glorious sight that is the love of your life.

when he looks at you, do you duck down, eyes suddenly focused on your screen again. it only makes him smile a little, step away from the assistant of the photographer who comes up to him, calls out your name.

“Huh?” your head whips up with a quickness neither of you expect, goes to show just how invested you really were with your work. but Bakugou only grins at you now, jerking his chin over to you as he grabs the bottle of oil the assistant was trying to pour over him.

“C’mere and gimme a hand, won’t ya?” he asks you, boyish smile gracing his face as he tilts his head at you. immediately, your face warms as you put together the request that’s suddenly dropped in your lap. everyone in the studio looks at you, with both envious and excited gazes, and it only makes you shrink in on yourself.

“I hate you.” you mutter under your breath when you finally rise up from your place on the couch, which he somehow hears. but Bakugou only laughs at you, grabs you by the waist when you’re close enough to kiss you breathless in front of everybody, before he’s handing off the oil to you.

“Such an attention whore,” you whisper when you’re close, the air between the two of you thick. everyone tries to look away, give you guys a bit of privacy, but it’s hard when such a soft and amused look passes over the usually rough and hardened hero’s face.

“Only for your attention.” he grunts back to you, holding his arms out for you to start dripping the oil down his skin. it’s a sensual gesture, the softness between you two sliding into something more, something that you only ever reserve for the bedroom.

you tip the bottle over his shoulders until it drips down his chest, massaging it all in with your hands in crude, circular motions. you can see the way he bites his lip, ignore the way he looks at you down the bridge of his nose lest you two create a scene not meant for the public eye. you gather more oil, warm it between your palms, kneeling in front of him to help massage it into the defined muscles of his stomach.

you ignore the twitch in front of you, swallowing thickly, glancing up to Bakugou who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet. you mouth at him to behave, but he only grins, something feral.

“We only need it above the waistband.” the photographer suddenly calls out, snapping you back to attention. you stand on shaky knees, nodding with your eyes casted low, ashamed, that your freak of a man had you doing something so…so—

“Go wait in my dressing room, yeah?” Bakugou asks you, pulling you in close to peck at the corner of your mouth. “Gonna wrap this shit up.” he promises you, and you can only nod silently, mind going a mile a minute. but before you go, you remember to grab the oil. just in case.

[phoenixcatch7]

Oh yeah story idea: percy Jackson reaches his emotional/mental limits) (annabeth gets knocked down during a huge fight and nearly gets killed) and goes absolutely ape. We're talking hurricanes, earthquakes, a zillion exploding water sources, blood bending, poison bending, pounding rain, the works.

And it starts to kill him. Like eating too much ambrosia, his mortal body is burning up, too much power too quickly.

But through sheer force of will and the amount of divine energy he's putting out, he keeps clinging on as his body crumbles to ash, divine power building stronger and stronger and higher and higher.

And he accidentally brute forces his way into godhood.

And what would have been a true power reveal and two deaths, Percy being punished for his strength ala Frank, abruptly becomes a pseudo divine political drama, with percy at risk of any dozen horrific fates the frenzied council are slinging around (minus poseidon, who is also frenzied but unwilling to let his newly immortal son die) whilst dealing with all the ramifications of divinity and the new social strata of the immortal pantheon (and EVERYONE having opinions), all while trying to get back home.

But Annabeth survives because of it, so he can't really complain.

[sugarcarnation]

love love love how similar these two panels are. makes me insane