#There was a PLAN Sam

[box-architecture]

Analyzing… Analyzing…

Negative.

With a a huff, D.R.E. slammed the refrigeration unit shut. He was halfway through the time frame of his assignment, and he was becoming increasingly aware of its slim odds of success. There would be no penalty for failure, but D.R.E. was competent, the best of the best, and to fail at his directive (no matter how stacked the odds were against him) felt unacceptable.

An intense crash sounded behind him. D.R.E. blinked, head swiveling without regard for its body.

Oh. The earth robot had knocked itself into a pile of garbage. Again.

It was (painfully) obvious the outdated bot had been following him for the duration of his exploration, the small beeps and Redstone ticking would be giving away its presence easily, but along with its strangely clumsy nature, there was some wonder at why it attempted to evade detection at all.

Odd. (Silly. Stupid.)

He watched the robot dig itself out, mapping out his next location to scan as it vocalized its frustration. He needed to keep searching, of course. He needed to follow the plan, the Directive. But…

More information could be considered tangentially related.

The redstone bot was sinking into a junk pile, shouting in stressed exclamations. D.R.E. picked him up with as much care as he could, flying them towards a cleaner surface beneath the night sky. It squeaked, but made no attempts to attack, which he appreciated. It really wouldn't be great for their first conversation to be hindered by annoying miscommunication.

Gently, he set it down. Its eyes peeked up at him from where they had hidden, and slowly it unfolded, outdated solar panels flipping to face him.

"Oh." It said. D.R.E. let his face flicker for a moment in thought.

"Oh." He agreed. Conversations were,,,, not his strong suit. He would start with something easy. "Name?"

It's panels raised in surprise. "Oh. SAM."

"Sam." D.R.E. hummed. Like the SAM-E's on the ship. Possibly the original model, which meant it had been strong enough to survive all these years. D.R.E. approved.

"Name?"

"… D.R.E."

"Drea-mmm?" Sam tried. Despite himself, D.R.E.'s LED smile glowed a little warmer.

"No. D.R.E."

"Dream." Sam repeated, rolling a little closer in excitement. It waved at him, shaking Redstone dust from out beneath his claws.

The Redstone glowed dim on its arms, obviously manually applied over the years to keep it going. D.R.E. pulled an arm close to inspect it. The flaps on the back of Sam's torso wagged.

"Redstone. Old." He murmured. Robots hadn't needed to function through Redstone in centuries.

"Hm?" Sam was making an odd rumbling noise now, practically knocking into D.R.E. He allowed it, assured in his own ability to neutralize a threat should it become one.

"Redstone." D.R.E. said. He ran a finger up it's arm in example, before pointing to his Eye Of Ender peeking out of his own chest. "Ender Eye."

"Ender." Sam squinted at the Eye. Lightly, it dragged a claw across the pupil. It opened to scan the limb.

Analyzing… Analyzing…. Negative.

Obviously.

Sam startled suddenly, jerking away and grabbing D.R.E.'s arm. He let himself be dragged along towards a storage unit with confusion. A threat? Should he be aiming a weapon?

"Dream." It urged. "In. In in in."

"Sam?" He asked. The dust storm began to pick up around them, and he realized the issue. "Sam!"

"Dream. In." Sam commanded, and they went in. The large door slammed behind them.

It was dark. And then it was not.

Sam was eager to show its strange, pre-ship contraptions, its eyes wide with delight as D.R.E. fiddled with pistons and glowing stones and the strangest music player D.R.E. had ever seen. He chirred at the cockroach ("Fran," Sam buzzed with affection,) and glided to the screen Sam was attempting to invest him in. It was sweet, someone wanting his attention for something other than new orders to follow, a new directive to accomplish, even if he didn't understand half of what he was being shown.

(His directive beeped in the back of his memory, reminding him of what he was supposed to be focusing on. It was fine, though. Just until the storm stopped.)

He felt claws nudging into his fingers.

"Hm?" D.R.E. let his head roll idly. Sam's tail flaps wagged.

"Dream!" It said as it tucked its head into the curve of his neck. The odd rumble started up again, louder than before; D.R.E. rested his head on its own to see if he could feel the vibrations.

"Sam?"

Sam's solar panels tapped against the glow of D.R.E.'s smile before pulling away to clap. It beckoned D.R.E. over to where more oddities were piling up. A gnarled blue thing was shoved into D.R.E.'S hands as Sam looked to him for approval.

What a strange color. He scanned it.

Analyzing…. Analyzing….

Confirmed.

Oh.

(He would not know of Sam's panic until much later.)

-

Dream didn't look at him as they were both led away to…. somewhere? The ship was wholly unfamiliar to SAM, outside of the little screens on Earth. He'd never seen the humans in the flesh (or if he had, he no longer recalled,) and the design of the ship seemed to run wholly on Ender Eyes, the familiar Redstone Crimson absent in favor of glassy, glossy green.

Dream was familiar. He was the only reason SAM wanted anything to do with the ship anyway, which was why he gently tugged on Dream's hand with his claws, hoping to slip their fingers together.

The hope was crushed as Dream tugged his hand away. He glared, his usual smile flat and mirthless.

"SAM." He said sternly. SAM shrunk into himself. He knew Dream was still mad about the plant being missing, but they were together now, so they could absolutely go look for it later after they held hands, right? SAM didn't see a problem with that. Hand holding wouldn't interfere with plant finding. He was sure of it.

Dream suddenly drooped, anger falling away as they entered a room filled with more robots. He sighed and waved SAM off, letting himself he pulled away by a large claw and into a separate room.

Immediately another claw came down on him as he tried to follow.

"Dream," SAM called out as he scrambled to get away. He was plonked into a separation area, Redstone dust clouds in his wake. "Dream!"

What followed in the next few moments happened very, very fast.

SAM barely registered the removal of Dream's head (the depressed smile vanishing completely as he was deactivated) before he was destroying the containment cube. In a fervor he was grabbing at the claw with Dream's head and tearing the precious orb out of its arm to cradle. There was some sort of mania happening with the bots behind him, but he ignored it in favor of pushing Dream back together.

He was barely aware of the distressed noises he was making, desperate as he failed to get Dream to come back. It was fine if he never held SAM's hand again, really, he would give up hand holding forever, he just wanted Dream to come back!

He was nearly toppled over as another bot rolled to them. They shoved SAM to the side and leaned forward to inspect his work. With a tsk, they took the orb from his claws (ignoring his enraged squawk and attempts to fight them) and activated the Ender Eye on Dreams chest, setting the orb on top of the body as it begun to float.

A familiar lime smile appeared on its face. It scrunched in confusion.

"What?" Dream asked, twisting his head every which way. SAM followed the movements with complete and utterly joy.

"Dream!"

Dream looked over SAM's head, and the confusion became alarm. "SAM!"

It was then that SAM realized the room they were in was completely destroyed, and partially on fire.

The robot beside them made an amused noise before rolling out the door, ignoring the robots rioting all around.

(Tech-No. 8 was having an excellent day, and as he watched the warning signs appear with pictures of the strange SAM-E and D.R.E., he decided that it was likely to get even better. If they lived through this he might even get to make fun of D.R.E. for bringing home an incompetent sparkmate)

-

[perplexingly]

“He never had any real hope in the affair from the beginning; but being a cheerful hobbit he had not needed hope, as long as despair could be postponed.”

The comic is based on a scene from the chapter “The passage of the marshes”

[beedreamscape]

DMs kissing Sam's hand

[davilishuuu]

When your brother finally kisses his angel and you have to deal with them doing it all the f time

[leafyeyes417]

Danny is glad he actually made a plan for once. Jazz had been on his back about telling their parents he was Phantom, and he had managed to convince her he had a plan. The only thing that would extend how long it took was the frequency of ghost attacks.

He generally didn’t have much free time, so luckily Clockwork was willing to put him in a time bubble so he could get stuff done, like get enough sleep. But mostly he was training. Sometimes with Wulf to make portals, but other ghosts had come by too.

The power that was giving him the most trouble, and that he needed most for his plan was duplication. It took forever and he still couldn’t have more than 3 versions of himself at one time. How Vlad managed so many he had no idea.

Anyway back to his plan. He got all his stuff that he couldn’t afford to lose hidden away, got copies of all his parents blueprints and files, replaced items that he didn’t feel comfortable letting them keep if worse case scenario came, and a few more miscellaneous things.

He decided not to tell Sam and Tucker what he was doing. Though he did give them a mysterious file that they weren’t able to open yet. It would lead them to him later. But he needed their reactions to be legitimate, even if he hated having to potentially distress them for a bit.

He then sent his duplicate in his place back home while he went to the Ghost Zone to keep learning and keep an eye on things. Hopefully things went well, but he planned to spend a full living realm month here just in case his parents faked taking it well.

————————————————————————

It did not go well. About two weeks after his duplicate told his parents they knocked him out and buried him in a ghost proof coffin. Was he glad he wouldn’t have to experience his worse fears as a lab experiment? Yes. Was he still going to have nightmares of being trapped underground unable to escape? Also yes.

He was glad it was his duplicate though. It was easy for him to undo from a distance and since they had been connected he still had all the memories. He typed in the code for the file he gave his friends before he left. Time to go to Gotham, the one place he was able to wheedle out of Clockwork would be best for him.

[sphyrne]

how jingo went

close ups on his face, bc i like when hes holding on by a thread

[walk-to-gallows]

So so funny that Castiel is an ancient celestial being who got too attached to some ants and ended up being subjected to the Winchesters 24/7 family drama.

[cuntylestat]

lestat is a brat when he's bumpin' that!

(youtube & twitter)

[retquits]

i guess we're doin this

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Digital drawings of younger, uni-aged Sam and Alice from The Magnus Protocol from the chest up on a grey background.

This first image is three drawings of Sam. He is a fat South Asian man with brown skin and shoulder-length curly black hair, and faint facial hair. He is wearing a red hoodie with a white undershirt, and his nails are painted black. The center image is of him facing the viewer and smiling. The drawing on the left is of him blushing, covering his face, and going "AAAA" with hearts around him. The drawing on the right shows him looking up and scratching his chin while smiling a bit awkwardly.

The second image is three drawings of Alice. She is a thin white trans woman with brown hair with faded pink tips in a tiny ponytail, and she has freckles and crooked teeth. She is wearing pink square glasses, silver earrings, a burgundy t-shirt, a pink and grey flannel, and various bracelets, and her nails are pink. The center drawing shows her smiling downwards, as though speaking. The drawing on the left shows her biting her lip and finger-gunning with her glasses reflecting, hiding her eyes. The drawing on the right shows her blushing, and looking up bashfully with one hand holding her cheek.

end ID]

~~~~

thinking about them in uni <3 what if they hung out <3 kissed even <3 yes they are blushing about each other <3

[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!

[crunchchute]

I can be your devil

[andi-o-geyser]

local gang of dnd players intimidate and viciously bully game show host sam reich, threatening to push his ass down the stairs like he's a 90-year-old grandma in a retirement home. more at 8

[pepperquinnartz]

Are Danny Phantom redesigns still cool? Well regardless, here's some edits I made a month or two ago with my own interpretation of some of the characters!

[yashley]

exu calamity rewatch: nydas v. loquatius (lou v. sam) (bonus travis:)

[claudia-lioncourt]

Meet the Vampire Lestat ft. Sam Reid