It’s Theory Time Again!

ALRIGHT WHILE I WOULD LOVE TO LIVE THEORIZE WITH THE REST OF THE COMMUNITY UNFORTUNATELY I HAVE SHIT TO DO TODAY SO EXPECT A HUUUUUGE THEORY POST LATER TODAY.

ALL I’M GONNA SAY FOR NOW IS FUCK YEAH MURDER MYSTERY TIME

Oh my god yeah and from that point cc is kind of like draped in blankets all the time so he doesn’t singe any of the furniture or wooden tables etc so like you’ll just kind of hear him mumbling from the next room and you’ll just hear the swishing of the blankets as he makes his way about the house

Awwwww.

“Dude, CC, why are you wearing a blanket? You’re like a million degrees.”“Bing. Two things. First, don’t call me CC. Second, shut up.”

*muffled screaming and chaotic rumbling from inside the likepuppetsonastring office*

I really hope Mat does a theory on Jack’s egos. There’s only one problem.

JACK DOESN’T TELLS US SHIT ABOUT HIS EGOS SO MAT HAS NEXT-TO-NOTHING TO WORK WITH HERE.

‘I didn’t kill him.’

So what you’re saying is that we might not have Anti’s real name? That would be an interesting dynamic to explore.

Has Anti ever said that his actual name is Anti :/ ? Like that’s what we and Jack call him but he has never used that himself.

Tea. (Headcanons)

(A/N These are some of my headcannons told sort of in the form of a plotless oneshot. Add to it if you want!)

There's one thing the Doctor adores no matter what regeneration he's on, and that's tea. Whether it's good ol' classic English tea (Ten drank it all the time), or green tea (Good old Twelve), or herbal teas(Eleven was wont to try all kinds of teas, a new one every day), or gunpowder tea (Nine had a bit of a bitter streak when it came to this), he always loved it, and he liked to share that with his companions.

Everyone liked the classic stuff, but each had their own favorites.

Rose, through her time on the TARDIS, came to really enjoy raspberry tea with honey and lemon juice, which the Doctor would make for her after every adventure. She brought her favorite brand to her mum's apartment, but Jackie said she "didn't trust these ruddy alien teas. What if they poison me or somethin'?"

Martha had a soft spot for orange tea, especially with lavender or jasmine, and her favorite brand was one from the 25th century on Earth that boasted helpful hypermetabolic antioxidants, though the Doctor protested it didn't help her health at all. She liked it anyway. They "debated" the point thousands of times during their long tea-and-chat sessions in the console room.

Donna was quite fond of coffee as well as tea, and took it black, occasionally with sugar if she was just relaxing and chatting with the Doctor. She made him try her coffee once, but he spit it out so violently she called him "Old Faithful" for a week straight. After that, the Doctor insisted on making and drinking only his own beverages, and Donna cracked a smile every time they met in the morning for drinks and biscuits.

Amy liked really strong teas of lots of varieties, including some alien types found across the galaxy from Earth in the 47th century, while Rory just liked his classic tea, one spoon of sugar and a little milk, please. Neither liked when the Doctor attempted to make their tea, so Amy often ended up getting annoyed at them both and sitting them down while she did it, correctly. The boys were smart enough not to argue.

Clara really rather enjoyed oolong and green tea, but would try basically anything the Doctor brewed for her, so they spent hours in the TARDIS kitchen laughing and taste-testing.

The Doctor also let everyone pick their own mug, because of course the TARDIS had an almost endless supply of them, and he gave each of them the mugs when they left him.

His were: in his ninth incarnation, a simple black mug with a swirling blue and gold design; in his tenth incarnation, a rather large blue mug with about a thousand quotes in brown ink scrawled all over it (from him, and his companions, and Shakespeare, and Agatha Christie, and a thousand others) in very small, cramped handwriting (he had about three because he kept running out of space); in his eleventh incarnation, it changed every time he drank tea, sometimes white with a red bow tie, other times pale pink with a black fez silhouette, other times something completely random; and in his twelfth incarnation, a star scattered black mug with the TARDIS' outline.

Rose's favorite was a pink mug with a half-heart shaped handle, which the Doctor bought her "as a joke", and sometimes teased her about, but she was happy with it. Tentoo had it in his pocket when they went to Pete's world, and gave it back to her as a birthday present the next time it came around. She was thrilled.

Martha's was a pretty green Japanese tea cup, with Kanji lettering on the side for "Health". It was wrapped up in the gift pile at her wedding to Mickey. There was no giver name. She cried when she opened it.

Mickey got one that said "The Most Brilliant Idiot To Every Live" in small, cramped handwriting. He cried, too.

Donna would never understand where the fairly plain brown mug that read "Life's an adventure if you get your arse out of bed long enough to have one" came from. All she knew was that it arrived at her door one day, and Shawn didn't know where it came from, and it was her favorite. It made her happy, but she never understood why.

Amy's favorite mug was intricately sculpted to a tree with a fairy sitting in its branches that Rory bough for her on a planet with actual, live fairies. Rory's was one Amy had given him, with a little cartoon of a Roman soldier, bought from the gift shop of a certain museum, that had the title "The Centurion".

They cried when a package containing the mugs arrived on their doorstep in the 60s.

Clara's favorite was bright red with gold glitter and the outline of a leaf on it. The Doctor swore he'd just picked it up somewhere, but Clara just smiled and nodded, happily running a finger over the hand-painted leaf.

Ok so your "do you trust me" was the cutest thing frickin ever! I loved it so much, and I am looking forward to what else you write! =w=

Oh my god, thank you! That’s so nice to hear. I’m excited to write more for you! :)

I like to think that sometimes dark will get these twangs of guilt or regret and he can never work out why, but there’s a reason he’s never got rid of that cracked mirror in his office. Or maybe he is just as broken as Wilford except wilfords response to being torn apart was to just spiral into it while dark tried to fight back and regain agency over himself? Like that’s why he’s so determined to get revenge, he’s just as hurt by wkm as wilf, he’s just dealing with it differently

I think Dark retains all the memories of WKM, and all of Damien’s memories, but the person/people that he was are forever changed (but maybe not completely gone), and that the dark entity that powers him led him to a different kind of insanity, one that’s hyper-focused and obsessive rather than sporadic and hyperactive and stereotypically “mad”.

I GOT INSPIRED AGAIN

Mark was in the middle of cleaning his gun when Jack surprised him.

“M...M...?” Mark frowned and looked over to the corner of the room where he’d tied Jack down. It was raining outside and he’d taken shelter, dragging Jack along with him. They’d...or, well, Mark...needed a break, just for a little while. It was hard enough to lose everything without being out in the elements constantly for so many months. Jack never protested being dragged along. He never agreed, though. He never did much of anything these days, he didn’t even seem to be conscious of where he was, or even who he was, anymore. But that was what made Mark look in the first place, and what made him slowly put down the gun, get up, and walk a little closer. The sounds Jack made nowadays didn’t mean much. He grunted when he was hungry, or when he was being dragged. He snarled occasionally when he could smell other zombies, or, very rarely, people. But this noise was intentional. It was a specific “m” sound, as opposed to the usual generic vowel noises. And when Mark looked over...Jack was looking at him. Staring, squinting right at him, and he looked...almost curious. Confused. Did he dare to hope? “Jack?” “M...ma...” he tried again, clearly trying. “Ma...rk?” He could’ve laughed out loud if he wasn’t so shocked. “Yeah...Yeah, man, it’s me.” He paused for a moment. “Do you...know who I am?” “I...” He shook his head very slowly, shakily putting the palm of one hand against his face, rubbing clumsily, as if to get rid of some of the grime and blood. He still seemed very foggy, but for the first time...here. Present. “I...d-don’t...kn-know...D-don’t...kn-know...wh-who...” “Who you are?” Mark supplied, and Jack actually nodded. “Try. What’s your name? Can you remember it?” He spoke quietly, as if to a small child. Jack sat up slightly from where he was slumped on the ground, tilting his head to study Mark again as he thought. After a long pause, he mumbled, “J...Jack...I-I’m...” But then he shook his head. “N-no...S...Se...Sean...” “Take it easy,” Mark moved a little closer, one hand out, almost to pacify him. His heart was in his throat, and he was finding it very hard not to get worked up. “Yeah, that’s you. You’re Sean.“ He smiled a little bit. “Welcome back.” And he never thought he’d been happier to see Jack smile.

post apocalyptic mark & zombie jack –

   “C’mon bud,” Mark pulled at the rope tied around Jack’s waist, leading him away from the dead animal on the side of the road, “Leave that alone.” His friend did nothing but grunt and groan. It was all he ever did these days. Whatever had happened to his brain after the infection had made him incapable of speaking, along with many other things. He was once a loud, outgoing fellow with smiles and laughs for miles. Now, he was a walking corpse with lifeless eyes and sickly grey skin. 

   The best friend that Mark knew and loved was seemingly gone, but he couldn’t let him go. He brought him along on his travels day after day in hopes that he’d find a cure and bring his best friend back to life once again. He just had to make sure Jack didn’t infect him before he could accomplish his goal.

The crew of a crashing spaceship. No one speaks but the captain, who tells them all how well they’ve done, how proud she is, and thanks them for their service. All eyes close together as the screen fades to white.

The last survivor in an empty world lies on his deathbed, an android holding his hand because no one else can. Pictures of his family line the room, and he can’t wait to join them.

A little girl adrift at sea, on the remains of a dingy from a sunken navy ship. It was take your daughter to work day before everything went wrong. She clutches a small bear to her chest and hums to it.

Panning shots of graves, up to the latest funeral. A small gathering around an unmarked grave. Someone remarks that it’s a shame that he should save the entire human race, and yet no one knows his name.

An empty woods. A deer strolls into the scene, and begins to graze on the grass growing from what might once have been a front porch step. Slow, scrolling shots of a house gone back to nature. A note scrawled on yellow paper. “We kept them out as long as we could. I love you.” There are red and black splatters curling the corner of it.

Radioactive (Music Box Version) - Imagine Dragons

by JoshuaSaundersMusic