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I've got you all figured out fanartists
#I should have learned how to draw#i have so many ideas and so little time to write#i wish i could make a vague comic about them and have a fanfic author get hooked and write it for me 😭#fanfiction#fanart#meme#crispy talks#shitpost#this was inspired by some overlord huskerdust comics with incredible ideas i saw on twitter#where the artists are clearly waiting for someone to get hooked lol#hazbin hotel#the witcher#hannigram#hannibal#geraskier#good omens#ineffable husbands#my edit#helluva boss#the magnus archives#house of the dragon#dungeon meshi#atla#stranger things#aang#zuko#steddie#mlp#dc#percy jackson
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(what the. who threw a wife plot device in the middle of a peak lord meeting)
i thought about this bit at the end of the airplane extras the other day. bro why are you looking at your coworkers like that rn
#comic: truth artifact#a silly thing while executive dysfunction is preventing me from writing anything#shang qinghua#wei qingwei#svsss#svsss fanart#uhh imagine this set pre-canon or pre-abyss#artifact would have attached to every person in a nearby area and slowly prodded at their minds until they forced a secret out#for it to satiate itself with#so either you tell it something willingly or it forces something out of you#yqy went first to settle his martial siblings trust that its safe#yqy said something like.#‘i was too weak to make due on a promise. i wish i was stronger back then’ with a glare from both mqf and sqq#sqq would probably say the vaguest thing possible that counted as a ‘deepest secret’ to meet the conditions set#this goes for sj and sy#side thing:#i love when truth serum stuff in fics just makes sqq and sqh say the wildest shit
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
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SO IVE BEEN GOIN INSANE SINCE THIS TRAILER DROPPED. JUST. SIMON. SIMON. SIMON.
#simon petrikov#fionna and cake#adventure time#goin insane over him#thers no words to describe how im feelin#i wish i could draw somehtin better but i am goin INSANE#FINALLY. AFTER ALL THESE YEARS. we are being FED.#ALSO?? HOW THEY SHOWED HIM EXACTLY WHEN THE LYRICS GO ''WHATS WRONG WITH ME'. LIKE HELLO???????#ive seen so many good theories PLEASE GOD WRITE FICS I AM BEGGIN I LL DRAW U FANART BLS HEL P#IDK WOT IM GONNA DO FOR A WHOLE MONTH#SOMEONE KNOCK ME OUT TIL THE 31ST. HIBERNATE ME. HELP.#also i need to put it out there the first thing i thought when i saw this trailer was simon is tryina rewrite fionna and cake#which is why their world keeps changin so much? idk idk#ive seen so many different ideas and they are all so good please help#ALSO GOD. THIS MAN IS JUST GOIN THRU IT. AND ITS ONLY BEEN A QUICK TRAILER.#im sorry for so many tags idk where to put these help#maybe i should make an actual blog for like. whatever. n reblogs. help.
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So Lucifer Morningstar, the fourth of the fallen, (retired) ruler of hell, the Devil himself, is a character in DC comics, appearing in the Sandman comics, his own solo run and various other comics
He is absurdly powerful
The thing is, Lucifer still has access to his Divine power, unlike other fallen angels, and is actually more powerful than other angels
What does this mean?
Lucifer was the guy that shaped the matter to create the stars, an ability he still has
Enter one Danny Fenton
“Omg(oh my ghost) I’m a HUGE FAN of your work”
Just Danny fangirling over the literal Devil because of stars and space
#danny phantom#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc prompt#dpxdc#writing#danny fenton#space nerd Danny#lucifer morningstar#writing prompt#I just think it’s really funny#I gotta say Danny isn’t anywhere near Lucifer’s level#the guy still has power to manipulate and reshape matter of gods creation however he wishes#also has power over souls and ghosts are souls ergo he has power over ghosts#the thing Lucifer really hates is humans blaming him for their own evil#‘the devil made me do it’
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here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!
---
sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)
Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine?
He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?
He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.
He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.
“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”
“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”
He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.
---
Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.
With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.
It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.
“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.
“Sure!”
“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”
Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait!
And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him.
“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”
“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”
The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”
Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”
“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”
“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”
“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.
Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs.
“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”
The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.
---
The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.
“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.
The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.
“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”
The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”
Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.
“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.
“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”
Grant didn’t look convinced, but—
“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.
Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.
“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”
Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”
“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.
“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”
He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.
“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”
He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”
“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”
Grant and Brennan exchanged a look.
“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace.
“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”
Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”
“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”
“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign.
The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm.
“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”
Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”
“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity.
“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”
Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”
“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor.
“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”
“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”
“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”
Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief.
“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”
His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling.
“Good luck.”
---
Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.
Showtime.
“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”
Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.
“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”
The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?
“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”
Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.
“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”
“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!”
As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.
“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”
“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”
“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him.
“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage.
“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”
The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.
“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.
“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”
He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”
When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”
Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.
Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”
“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”
Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”
“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.
“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”
“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”
The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps.
It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break.
Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope.
“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”
For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still.
And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.
The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”
“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.
The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall.
It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.
“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”
A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.
“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”
“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”
“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.
“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.
In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.
Nobody moved.
“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”
Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.
Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.
The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.
“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”
Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”
The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”
Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”
“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”
“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”
He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”
It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.
“You can’t be,” he breathed.
Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.
“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”
The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”
The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw.
“Master.”
---
missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?
original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x
art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x
writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!
#game master#sam reich!master#doctor who#dw#dropout#game changer#you know what let's chuck some character tags in here#15th doctor#the master#sam reich#brennan lee mulligan#grant o'brien#kaylin mahoney#clari speaks#clari writes#ah darlings i'm putting my chat down here rather than in the post body for once#so i've thought of this whole saga as 'part three' but i will be a) titling them all and b) just keeping on numbering the parts sequentiall#rather than 'part three part one' etc#otherwise we're getting into homestuck act titling territory and that is ground i do not wish to tread#also fuck i hope i've got the time zones right#i'm planning to post this when an episode of game changer would ordinarily be released. to plug the gap. to tide us over.#(the finale trailer is so delightfully unhinged and i cannot wait til next week)#anyway gang this one was wild#the slight but significant genre shift from 'game changer with doctor who elements' to 'doctor who with game changer elements'#it was fun to write! and hopefully fun to read :)#also i MUST say that eugene northernfireart has a baller comic in the works that this entire thing is based on#this is thousands of words of setup and continuation because the sketch idea was so good it possessed me#and we decided that it had to be a proper dw episode#(hey rtd hire me pls)#anyway eugene is on hiatus bc of life so in the meantime go give him love and be Fuckin Hyped for the comic when it appears bc i know i am
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Thanks.
Prev
#fop#fairly oddparents#fop a new wish#fairly oddparents a new wish#fop nature au#fop dev#fop dale#dev dimmadome#dale dimmadome#art#digital art#comic#The 'Thanks' after all of that makes me so insane Im not even sure I can fully articulate why#I mean. He got what he wanted. Honesty. Thats what you wanted right Dev?#what else do you say to that#He's spent his whole life being sure he knew the answer. That deep DEEP down dale did love him#Have you ever seen that post thats like“I was bawling my eyes out and somebody told me to shut up and I was so taken aback I stopped crying#I think he was so stunned that he just stopped crying.#or like when you get so upset that your feelings turn themselves off to protect you#is that a normal thing that happens to people Erm. anyway#Sorry lol as someone born to parents who.. should not have had me. Writing dale basically admitting as much is actually really cathartic#He shouldnt have had Dev. He doesnt love him. He cant. Dev cant do anything to change it. Its just a fact.#Hes not 1:1 with my parents they tried their best ig but like. their best was still pretty awful child neglect LOL
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Normal boy spotted.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#wen wing#wen remnants#Wen ning#This scene felt like a bit of a fever dream. We have (with little to no comedic exaggeration):#1) WWX whistling and somehow summoning not one but several horses to his side.#2) meeting the surviving Wen sect members who insist on not leaving Wen Ning behind.#Only for it to cut back to Wen Ning ripping a guy in half. (Not pictured here. I tried so hard but I could not make it look good).#Personally I feel like we moved on way too fast from the horse thing. Where did they come from? WWX couldn't have brought them.#He *just* found out there were more people left behind.#So...are the from the Jing sect? Are these disloyal horses? Or does WWX have incredible animal charisma skills?#It feels a bit like a DND player asked to call in some horses and the DM said 'Sure if you roll well enough' and it was a natural 20.#Maybe this is just my own envy cutting through. God damn I wish I could whistle and summon a horse to my side whenever I needed to.#I know I should not be so hung up on the horses. But my brain is cooked. I have been so sick.#The kind of sickness that makes it hard to breathe. Or think. Or have any energy at all.#I wish I had good commentary to write here. I just...really want a nap. And for October to restart to make up for all the lost time.#Thank you all for being so kind and patient once again. It truly means a lot.
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something dark to brighten your day ♡
Each Other's Lifeline by @anfie-in-the-box
Nightmare by jokublog
#zu art#others writing#each other's lifeline#nightmare!sans#passive!nightmare#dreamtale#undertale#undertale au#utmv#birthday#illustration#surprise! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)#I don't remember illustrating this series but today is a nice opportunity to fix it ;)#it's really nice to have things to come back to#and yours are always ones of them <3#I wish Tumblr had something like ''this user is revisiting your posts'' xp#but for now I wish you all the best; today and each new day╰(*´︶`*)╯☆
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I hate these fucking gays
#house md#james wilson#gregory house#hilson#THEY MAKE ME SO SICK!!!!!#i wish death upon them#LORD STRIKE THEM DOWN!!!!!!!#anyway for the first drawing a made a small little writing thing#my eyes caught between his bright eyes and his warm smile.#i wasnt sure which one of the two held more pride for the fact that i was by his side.#i cropped it out because i thought it was kind of cringe but i still think it was kind of cute!!!#so yeah just adds some context to the drawing!!
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every birthmarks everybody dies parallel takes twenty years off my life
#this can’t have been intentional but then like. the boring thing#they absolutely rewatched birthmarks before writing that ending#so maybe it was#wish i could’ve gone into that writers room and strangled them all to death with my bare hands#also someone must have pointed this out already but i don’t think i’ve seen it if they have i think i would’ve gone insane then and there#house md#hilson#+
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As if I wasn't already exhausted enough this morning...
It's been brought to my attention that people are taking my fanfics, editing them, and sharing them around. I don't have the words to describe how not okay this is. If you don't like something about my fanfic, then I'm sorry to hear that, but there are a lot of other fics out there you can read instead.
I put time and effort and care into my writing, as does every writer. To take my work without permission and change it feels like someone just punched me in the gut. Frankly it makes me not want to share my work at all and to take down all the writing I do have up, because why should I share anything with people if all they're going to do is decide it's not good enough and they're going to do what they want with it and make it "better"?
And before anyone comes at me, this is not what a transformative work does. This is not the same as fanfiction. I'm fucking exhausted from working two eleven hour shifts over the weekend so my brain is not working so someone smarter and more articulate than I am can explain why. I'm tired.
This genuinely makes me want to take down all my works and not share anything new. It's very simple, kiddos: Don't like it? Don't read it. You will miss out on some fanfics that way, just like you'll miss out on some films, or books, or TV shows. I've missed out on really good fic, novels, films, etc, for the same reason. We all do. It's a part of life. Stuff will sometimes have things in it that you don't like. Skim those parts, fast-forward those scenes, grin and bear it, or just go and read/watch something else.
Normally I would make this post unrebloggable but I worry other writers in this fandom might experience the same thing and not realize it. So people are welcome to reblog this. Anyone who's an ass on it will be blocked, no second chances.
Just. Don't do this guys. Holy shit don't do this. What the actual fuck.
#lincoln writes stuff#911 abc#911 fanfic#yes unfortunately tagging the fandom since that's the fandom it happened in#I'm just#holy fuck#genuinely I want to message every writer I know in this fandom#even if we've never spoken#to like... warn them this is apparently a thing#I wish I could make my brain work right now but I'm so fucking braindead#I'm working three jobs and this is my fun relax safe space except NOT ANYMORE 'CAUSE PEOPLE ARE BEING DICKS#just... don't fucking do this what the FUCK is wrong with you#actual CHILDREN are more respectful holy fuck
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you can't stop me lovin' myself ♡ for @kimtaegis
#userbangtan#usersky#annietrack#heyryen#userkelli#usermaggie#useremmeline#userpat#tuserandi#raplineuser#usersolis#useryoonqiful#usermizuoka#userines#nuggettracks#rjshope#dailybts#mine!#park jimin#btsedit#btsgif#bg images from freepik <3#OKAY all of that is out of the way!#HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEET ANNIE!!!!!!!!#i really made like 4 different things and kept changing my mind because nothing was good enough for you :(#i knew that i wanted to make something from idol though because i know that that's the one song you wish you could see live!#since i can't bring bangtan together for a concert and take you to it right now i thought i would make you this#since jimin slayed this dance intro to pieces#anyway. i'll write you something more personal in your messages but i love you soooooo much thank you for being born#& for being one of the kindest souls on the whole planet
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You're going to meet someone who will love you like it's breathing.
#things i never thought i'd say#angst#things i wish you knew#first love#letting go#spilling thoughts#spilled thoughts#spilled poetry#poetic#poem#poetry#personal#my post#feelings#feeling deeply#thinking of you#writing#literary quotes#literature#journal#i love you#feeling loved#relationship quotes#love quotes#quotes#things unsaid#unsent messages#unsent letters#pining#moving on
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reminder that the only reason the "ADHD is actually demigod BATTLE STRATEGIES" and "dyslexia is DEMIGOD BRAINS HARDWIRED FOR ANCIENT GREEK" things exist in the PJO universe is because it's a very direct reference to early 2000s teaching/parenting techniques for neurodiverse and disabled children, which aimed to frame childrens' disabilities and hardships as a "superpower" or strength so that the children would feel more positively about their disabilities or situations. This technique has fallen out of favor since then for the most part since more often than not it just results in kids feeling as though their struggles are not being seen or taken seriously.
Yes, demigods are adhd/dyslexic (and sometimes autistic-coded) in the series. This is extremely important and trying to remove it or not acknowledge it makes the entire series fall apart because it is such a core concept. Yes, canon claims that their adhd/dyslexia is tied to some innate abilities, which is based on an outdated methodology. It's important to acknowledge that and understand where it comes from! But please stop trying to apply it to other pantheons in the series like "oh, the romans have dyscalculia because of roman numerals!" or "the norse demigods have dysgraphia for reasons!" - it's distasteful at best.
A better option is to acknowledge the meta inspiration for why that exists in the series, such as explaining potentially that Chiron was utilizing that same teaching methodology to try and help demigods feel more comfortable with their disabilities and they aren't literal powers. In fact, especially given Frank, there's implication that being adhd/dyslexic isn't a guaranteed demigod trait, which means it's more likely to be normally inherited from their godly parent/divine ancestor as a general trait, not a power, and further supports the whole "ADHD is battle strategy" thing being non-literal. It also implies the entire greco-roman pantheon in their universe is canonically adhd/dyslexic - and that actually fits very well with the themes of the first series. The entire central conflict of the first series fits perfectly as an allegory about neurodiverse/disabled children and their relationships with their undiagnosed neurodiverse/disabled parents and trying to find solutions together with their shared disability/disabilities that the kid inherited instead of becoming distant from each other (and this makes claiming equivalent to getting a diagnosis which is a fascinating allegory! not to mention the symbolism of demigods inheriting legacies and legends and powers from their parents and everything that comes with that being equivalent to inheriting traits, neurodiversity, and disabilities from your parents).
anyways neurodiversity and disability and the contexts in which the series utilizes representation of those experiences particularly during the 2000s symbolically within the narrative is incredibly important to the first series and the understanding of what themes it means to represent. also if i see one more "the romans have dyscalculia instead of dyslexia" post in 2023 i'm gonna walk into the ocean.
#pjo#riordanverse#percy jackson#analysis#meta#adhd#dyslexia#also this symbolism recontextualizes the relationship between demigods and their godly parents so much#particularly Percy and Poseidon and the whole ''I'm sorry you were born thing'' like DAMN that's an ENTIRE DIFFERENT IMPLICATION#honestly in general the first series' meta analogy of being a demigod as symbolism for being neurodiverse/disabled ROCKS SO HARD#that's SO COOL and im SO SAD NOBODY EVER TALKS ABOUT IT#i could write a whole essay on that alone like COME ON GUYS#can we PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE THIS I WANNA TALK ABOUT THE COOL DISABILITY METAPHORS....#anyways i didnt proofread this cause. re: dyslexia so if it doesnt make sense dont worry about it#i can try to explain further in supplementary posts if people so wish
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THEY TOOK BOONE.
The floor of his room in Lucky 38 was littered with bolts and screws, just waiting to be fixed into something more tangible. The Courier furrowed his brow, distracted by the frantic noises from the hall. Again. He had to hop through the trash to get to his door. "Hey, y'all, quick question – can a man have some fucking silence in his own damn house?" The noises stopped. Veronica looked at him, eyes wide and gaping from some sort of a mix between panic, pain and worry. "Six..." Ah. His guts felt like they were put in cold Siberian water. "No. Where's Boone? You were with him." The Courier paused, heartbeat quickening. He did not breathe. "He's still at McCarran?" Veronica could not utter another word. "Six..." The other people in the hall were quiet, standing around the corners, just... watching. Waiting, maybe. He did not know, and neither did he care. Finally, Gannon took the lead, laying a hand on devastated Veronica. He took a quick look at the back of her head. Injury? "McCarran was attacked by the Legion soldiers, Six. They... took captives. A captive." "...I see." Even though his palm now turned hot and sweaty, was still holding the door handle. He stood still, looking at every single person in this room – the people who's gone to battle with him, who took care of him, took care of each other and of the people that they all were oh, so tirelessly trying to save, day after day after day. The rage that he felt got nothing to do with them. He already has the crimson red look, so, well. With the level of burning, scorching, bloodlust rage he felt, this famous God damned Bull might as well be him right now. "Okay," he took a deep breath, exhale long and shuddering with anger. "Right... Get ready, folks. We're going to fucking war." He turned to Veronica, then. "You did good." If his smile was more murderous than thankful, well. His people would not hold a grudge.
details and grayscale!! i'm really proud of this piece :)
hewwo!! if any of you got to the end of the post – i am writing a fic with this courier oc x boone!! let me know if you'd be interested in reading it 🥺 i'm still too easily discouraged when in comes to writing, so support will be MUCH appreciated!!!!
#murderous boyfriend strikes again#oc: vulture#btw vulture was aware of the rad waste near the Cove but he has a Thing when it comes to radiation#he would NOT. under any curcumstances. wish ghoulification on anyone. even legionaries#boone x courier#my art#fallout new vegas#fallout oc#craig boone#courier six#digital art#boone fnv#boone#fnv courier#courier 6#courier oc#fnv#artists on tumblr#my writing#fanfic
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