#this is purely a test run

[aquatic-batt]

Nightheart test :]

[clarionglass]

so i have been bitten by the sam reich!master bug courtesy of some phenomenal art by @northernfireart and uh. as is too often the case i had to write something otherwise if i didn't get it out of my brain i would go absolutely insane

(there may be more vignettes coming if i have ideas..... there are definitely other episodes i'd like to give the Treatment to, plus with the new dw series coming out on the weekend i may have ideas for how to incorporate the dw gang! however, i promise neither more writing or no more writing. that said, this was a lot of fun so there'll probably be more at some stage :D )

this has full spoilers for the game changer ep "escape the greenroom", but hey that's been out for a while now so,,,, if you haven't seen it i'd highly recommend it as an episode!

so, without further ado:

--

Samuel Dalton was a complete fiction, of course, but that didn't mean that when Sam Reich snuck back upstairs to get tied up in the “out of order” bathroom, the Sam that remained on the monitor, laughing at the contestants, was a pre-recording. And if Brennan, Siobhan and Lou had snorted at the idea of a time-travelling evil magician great-grandfather (for good reason), going in with the actual truth of the matter would have sounded like jumping the shark.

It sounded bizarre, but the time travel bit was the only part about his new partner in crime that was confirmably real. Admittedly, the jury was still out on “evil”—he gave off a weird vibe at times, but so far, no lines had been crossed, and it had all been funny as hell—so for now, Sam was willing to roll with it. But perhaps most surprisingly, there wasn’t even the possibility of blood relation between Samuel Dalton Reich and the guy who had shown up out of the blue one day with his exact face and a plan to really fuck around with things on Game Changer.

Yeah, the whole alien thing had really ruled out that particular prospect.

There had been various bits and pieces of confirmation that this guy wasn’t human through the time Sam had known him, but the final nail in the coffin for that one was when his doppelganger had looked him dead in the eye and tried on one of the heart rate monitors—sorry, “range extenders”—for As a Cucumber. The damn thing had literally sparked up, then died completely. Trying to process input from two separate heartbeats at once would do that, apparently. 

His doppelganger was a Time Lord, or so he had nonchalantly said one afternoon in casual conversation, though Sam still wasn’t sure if that one was a joke or not. It was hard to tell, sometimes, because he said the wildest things with the straightest face, and so far, most of them had turned out to be one hundred percent certifiably true. The time travel, the space travel, even the changing faces thing—it sounded objectively insane, but the proof was undeniable. 

There were some notable exceptions, though. Saying he’d been trapped for aeons inside Neil Patrick Harris’s gold tooth went just that bit too far to be believable, though Sam did appreciate his double’s slightly warped sense of humour.

It was that offbeat line of thinking that lent itself well to game design, as it turned out. He had a knack for coming up with ideas for Game Changer episodes, albeit with the occasional suggestion that went way beyond the bounds of good taste, and, as in the case of Escape the Greenroom, had devised some blinding twists on concepts Sam had already half-formed. The letter puzzle unlocking the secret door? It was perfect.

Understandably, Sam’s doppelganger had wanted to observe the fruits of their labours in real time, rather than watching the recording later. It happened, sometimes, particularly when it was one of his ideas that had made it through to the episode list—they’d swap places for a session, with nobody being any the wiser. Watching those edits back always felt a bit weird—it was uncanny how flawless the mimicry was—but hey, the guy was right. It was always fun.

Escape the Greenroom, specifically, with its “Samuel Dalton” conceit, provided them with a unique opportunity. Instead of swapping out the camera feed for a recording when the cast piled into the tiny secret room behind the wall, as per the original plan to get Sam in position to be discovered in the bathroom, they could just swap out the people. Sam would go upstairs, and his double would take his place at the podium, ducking out of sight when everyone came back to the main stage to “defuse the bomb”.

Sam was keen—hell, if their situations had been reversed, he’d want to be there to watch, too—but caution raised a flag. “You don’t think it’s too risky?” he’d asked when the subject was first raised. “Both of us being in the same place?”

His doppelganger had shrugged one shoulder with supreme unconcern. “The crew won't notice.”

At the time, Sam had shot him a sceptical look, but right now, Sam-Reich-in-a-purple-tie and Sam-Reich-in-an-orange-tie were standing backstage post-record, clearly visible and and calmly chatting, and not a single member of the crew had given them so much as a second glance. 

…Hardly even a first glance, come to think about it. If anyone looked over their way, their eyes seemed to… not exactly go through them, but slide over the two of them like water. He was tempted to wave to Nico or Ash or someone, just out of pure curiosity, but something in the back of his mind told him that wouldn’t be the world’s greatest idea. He had a funny feeling he wouldn’t like to see what would happen next.

(He’d given the prop bomb back to the crew once the cameras stopped rolling, and though it looked the same as the one he remembered from before he’d headed upstairs, it felt different in his hands. Heavier, more… serious, somehow. He was sure nothing would have happened—but at the same time, he was suddenly very glad that the cast had cut the correct wire with no less than a minute fifteen to go.)

(The jury was still out on evil, after all.)

“Worth coming in for?” he asked instead.

“Absolutely,” his double replied with relish. “Locking those three in a small room for an hour? Brilliant, fantastic. Inspired. It was absolute chaos.”

“Have you seen up there?” Sam asked, a smile starting to spread across his face. “They messed up the set real bad.”

His doppelganger smirked at him. “You know it took literally two seconds from you telling them to escape the greenroom for Lou to smash that guitar?”

Sam shook his head. “Oh my god. Yeah, they were stressed.” 

“Mmm. Some real panic in that room,” his doppelganger agreed, and Sam chose to ignore the faint note of satisfaction in his voice.

He shifted his weight, settling back to lean against the table behind the set, in the exact instant his double decided to do the same thing. It really was freaky how similar they were, down to the smallest mannerism—like looking in a mirror, only weirder, because the face that looked back at him was truly his own face, not mirror-reversed. Even now, it still caught Sam off guard from time to time, but at least it had faded into a more comfortable kind of strange. He had an exact lookalike who was an actual time-travelling alien. Cool. Doesn’t everyone?

The pair shared a companionable silence for a few moments, before a thought Sam had been turning over for a while rose to the top of his mind. He shifted again, this time on his own, and he felt his double’s regard swing up to fix on him like a magnet. 

“Okay, real talk,” he started, and his doppelganger frowned back in an approximation of confused innocence. “What’s all this for?”

“Who says it has to be for anything? Aren't we just having fun?”

Sam hummed, considering. “Yeah. No, I'd believe that, if I didn't sometimes walk into production meetings and find out I'd apparently been very specific about the people I wanted for certain episodes.”

“Point for Sam,” his doppelganger acknowledged with a grin. “You got me. Wasn’t hard to make a few phone calls on our joint behalf.”

“Yeah, but why?” Sam pressed. “I mean, Siobhan, Brennan and Lou are always great comedy value when you put them together, and it was awesome to have them for this, but I get the feeling you’re thinking of something other than making good content.”

“Who, me?”

With that, his double gave him a look of such overdone pantomime innocence that Sam suddenly and thoroughly understood why, not half an hour earlier, Brennan had very seriously threatened to push him down the stairs. 

He rolled his eyes, which earned him a smirk for his troubles.

Dropping the act, his doppelganger continued. “I’m expecting an… old friend, I guess, to show up at some point, and—well, I’d like to put on a really special show for them. I thought it would be a good opportunity to try a few things out, you know?”

Ominous pause aside, that was actually kind of sweet. Sweeter than he’d been expecting, that’s for sure—he was half anticipating the revelation that he and his cast were subjects in some weird experiment. Hey, that still couldn’t fully be ruled out, but still.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. “Well… just let me know, next time? Before you start ordering in my cast like takeout?”

“Who says they’re your cast?” his double shot back with a twinkle in his eye, and Sam snorted.

“Fine. Our cast, then. But seriously, let me know?”

His doppelganger nodded, which, if not quite fully convincing, was good enough. 

“Oh, and do you know when your friend might be arriving?” Sam asked. “Because if you wanted to plan something, we can—”

“I don’t know,” his doppelganger interrupted. “So yeah, we’ll have to move fast when they do get here. But I’ve got it under control.”

He broke off, then shot Sam a mischievous grin. “In the meantime, though, I’ve had this fun thought about time loops…”

[sleepyflowershead]

i wanna try pc stuff, i must say i havent do these type of stuff for a while

[stergeon]

> FERDINAND II.

And so your PLANT shall henceforth be known as FERDINAND II.

The thought of needing to inform FERDINAND I of his having a namesake makes you a bit ill, but you are already hard at work devising several plausible excuses for the gesture. Something about how you've named it after the one most invested in its naming, or how it is similarly prone to drooling. Yes. Yes, you will be able to deflect quite easily, should the need arise. It has nothing to do with your fondness for FERDINAND or your desire for a substitute in his imminent absence, no—again, you are not so prone to sentimentality. It's about the drool.

Well, anyway. Best to move on with your day and think about something else, lest you grow maudlin or cultivate further affection for the PLANT. May the GODDESS be merciful and never cause you to develop inclinations that could be described as paternal.

Now that your plant has received sufficient care, it is time for COFFEE. You set to making your morning brew. By CHANCE, there happens to be sufficient water remaining in the kettle for FERDINAND I to have TEA, should he wish it.

Per your TIMEPIECE, it is now a quarter to eight. You have made excellent progress on your PRE-BREAKFAST TO-DO LIST thus far: the only remaining task is to remove FERDINAND. You are starting to get rather peckish and would like to be rid of him quickly, but over the past week, you have found that extracting the man from YOUR QUARTERS is a more arduous task than it ought to be.

#007 | << | <- | -> | JOURNAL | HOW TO PLAY | ALL POSTS

[spngirlpolls]

some of you are in the notes like "xyz celebrity would never watch this show! they would hate this show!" that's not the point. that's never been the point. it's about whether they WOULD be a deangirl/samgirl/casgirl. IN SPIRIT.

[n4talia-chaparro]

DRAW PURE VANILLA >:]]]]]

I feel like I'm being tortured💀💀,,,

[scarapanna]

No divorce just sheep (+ doodle page undercut)

[onlyhereforangst]

why would she suddenly think he might harm her? why, when only yesterday, he’d been pure as the driven snow?

[see-arcane]

What even *is* the plot of the Beetle? Other than Racism and Bad Writing?

Well, there was some hope for a fever dreamy what-the-fuck nightmare scenario where an unemployed clerk gets turned into a brain slave by a bugperson who forces him to do naked burglary

But then it kind of went downhill after that into Masochism Land

It's not even fun garbage anymore. It's straight nuclear waste that we're wading through, hoping for another glimpse of Bare-assed Blorbo or the BEETLE (their pronunciation) for some oasis of weirdness to make the shittiness worth it. So far it's just Dick Marsh inflicting a genocidal incel on us and hoping we find him quirky. It is not working.

Do not read The Beetle. Absorb what filters out here the way you would drink still-questionable water that's come through a tormented strainer of readers who sift through Dick's awful Marsh of Misery. I guarantee whatever you piece together yourself will be 100000x more artful than the literary slog that is this hellbook. -100 out of 5 stars. Dead beetle do not open.

The one silver lining is that it is so wretched, so abysmal, so mind-breakingly rancid, that it's genuinely inspiring. Hatefully so. It's made so many people sit down, stare into eternity, and decide, rightly:

I could sneeze on my keyboard and write a better story than this. I could slam finger paints blindly on a piece of paper and draw a better story than this. I think I will.

It's a motivator. A muse sculpted out of scarab wings and shit. All the charm and power of a sign reading TOXIC WASTE DUMP BEYOND THIS POINT, sending you careening in the other direction towards art and talent and creation free of any self-judgment.

This thing outsold Dracula when the books first came out, you will think to yourself. This piece of crystallized offal, woe, racist caricatures, endless grammatical purgatories of enough dashes and commas to turn a single sentence into a filibuster. It did that. I am better than that. There's no amount of self-doubt in my heart or on this Earth that can convince me otherwise. I am free and spurred to manifest the better things that exist in my imagination. Thank you, Dick Marsh, in whatever xenophobic murder gas death pool you're marinating in in the afterlife. Thank you.

I say again, do not read The Beetle. The Beetle is not for reading. It exists for the same reason The King in Yellow play exists in Chambers' universe. To seed madness and disgust and the full antithesis of sense and taste and all that is good.

All that, and the Beetle exploring their imprisoned mind-controlled pet clerk's body while they rant about a hot politician they're obsessed with.

The Beetle does not exist to be read, but to be endured.

You may not make it through. I'm not even sure I will.

But the challenge is there.

The option to look upon the Beetlebullshit is here.

[noahtally-famous]

hot take (maybe??? idk how much of a "hot" take this is lmao):

out of the two of them: dave's good at cooking, but shawn's better at baking

[hannie-dul-set]

i like to categorize my kpop boys as either asshole-coded or pathetic-coded. jaemin (asshole) was my first victim. jaehyun is just pathetic. haechan is a the most pathetic asshole i've ever seen.

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Cannot decide on what weapon I want for my faith/arcane build.

Uchigatana is fun and has a nice moveset.

Grave Scythe does great damage, great moveset, on the slower side but still.

I got the vulgar militia saw, which has good bleed build up and would be useful since it does standard rather than slashing damage. It also has an interesting aesthetic, though the range is short.

Dual wielding bleed spears is cool. The Cross Naginata is sexy. Spiked spear has a nice moveset and a brutal look I like.

Honestly not feeling curved swords for this build, though the scavenger's sword also has a good aesthetic.

At a loss.

[exopelagic]

supervisor was met. god help our souls

[tripeakathlete]

Weekend of April 13 - 14, 2023

Greetings Warriors, Saturday I hope this message finds you well and as excited as I am about our upcoming bike session scheduled for Saturday at the picturesque Lake Louisa State Park. It’s an excellent opportunity to come together as a team, enjoy the great outdoors, and get a solid endurance workout. Please remember the following key details for the session: Check-in Time: Ensure you check…

[wallabywannabe]

At work we run a lot of chlamydia tests, and it's common for a doctor to also want to test for trichomonas at the same time. The test is nearly identical, same method, same specimen type, same tube, same analyzer. We don't even require offices to send us 2 samples. We just run both tests off of 1.

Well someone was crunching the numbers and for some reason (I am skeptical), it's more cost effective to run chlamydia only specimens at our hospital, but trich or trich and chlamydia combos at a different hospital.

When it's in the right tube, these specimens are supposed to be good for 1 year at room temp or refrigerated. But policy says chlamydia is supposed to be kept refrigerated, and trich at room temp. We were told to keep the combos at room temp (why? why not refrigerated? no one knows!). But the computer thinks they all are refrigerated, so it won't let us put them on a room temp packing list. So instead we put them on a "refrigerated" packing list, cross out refrigerated on the print out and put them in the room temp spot for the couriers.

All this to say, people often ask me if I'm worried that computers will take over my job, but for that to happen the people telling the computers what to do would have to be a lot better at their job, so yeah I'm not worried.