i made a rough timeline for the clone^2 au, just for my own convenience sake when dating things. some things might be out of order from the episode date, and thats also for my convenience.
September 3rd: Danny, age 14, has the accident in the lab that turns him liminal
September 10th: Danny is discharged from the hospital and given two weeks leave from school
September 24th: his sick leave ends, and Danny returns to school
October 14th: Danny sneaks into his parents' basement and releases the ghosts they have trapped in cages. Official birth of the vigilante, Phantom
November 27th: Danny fights Pariah Dark, and wins
December 24th: the Ghost Writer torments Danny
February 12th: Danny's 15th birthday
March 3rd: its been six months since Danny's accident
March 7th: Danny fights his evil future self
May 8th: Danny meets Ellie [age 15] and they become twins
December 14th: Danny finds out from his parents that he's a clone
February 12th: Danny's 16th birthday
Early-Mid April: Danny meets Damian [age 6] :)
Mid-Late April: Damian runs off for the first time, damages Danny's hands the first time
May: Damian runs off two more times in the span of three weeks, he damages Danny's hands both times.
Early June: Damian runs off one more time, damages Danny's hands again, resulting in permanent nerve damage.
Mid-Late June: Damian finally gives up on the League coming to get him and joins the Fenton Family.
July: Damian finally coaxes Danny into letting him come along with him on patrol: Wraith is born.
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Y'all I finished the frigging Boggie Roommate Stuffy fic!!!
Starting Over (With You?)
Bobby/Reggie
Rated T
College AU, Roommates, Make Reggie A Molina 2k Always, referenced/implied parental neglect.
Moving for school is a good thing. It just sucks that Bobby has to do it by himself.
Just as he finishes hanging up his clothes in the closet, he hears the sound of someone fumbling with the lock on the door. He turns around just as it swings open and in comes… a giant teddy bear?
The huge stuffed animal is light brown and has to be almost as tall as he is. And as Bobby attempts to process what he’s seeing, it suddenly falls toward him. He stumbles backward, trying to catch the bear before it makes him fall over.
“What the heck,” he mutters as he finally manages to right himself and push the thing to the floor. Then he spots the people.
Read now on ao3!
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What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
Total crap.
Because as Maddie groans from the pounding in her head, her eyes open to a sight she wasn’t quite prepared for—a stranger lying next to her in bed, almost seeming to come to the same realization at the exact same time as her. She shrieks, clearly surprised, causing him to roll out of bed and onto the floor with only his boxers on.
There isn’t much concern though for why they are both barely dressed, not as he lifts his left hand up as if stunned to see a wedding ring on his finger. “What the hell?”
Now that causes Maddie to frown, because how do you suddenly forget you're married to someone?
But then her heart sinks, because she can finally feel it. The tiny cool object encasing her own finger. She lifts her hand up and reveals a silver ring, the exact same shade as the man’s, with a sparkly diamond resting on top for both of their eyes to see.
Well…shit.
Shit shit shit.
This can’t be real. This ring on her finger absolutely, one hundred percent, has to be fake. It has to be just some cheap piece of jewelry that she bought late last night as a joke, after she sold her ex-fiancé’s ring at the pawnshop for the money to go on this trip. Or maybe she saw it through a shop window and said to hell with it, she liked it and it looked nice, and she was leaving with way more money then she came with, so why not treat herself?
From the way this guy is looking at her though, a matching silver ring on his finger, Maddie knows this wasn’t something either of them expected to wake up to—no doubt married and not knowing each other’s names, most likely from a long night of heavy drinking. Things have suddenly become a thousand times more awkward, and Maddie just wishes she can lay back in bed and let the mattress swallow her whole because this simply cannot be happening right now. This trip to Vegas was supposed to be fun, but apparently drunk Maddie had way too much fun.
“I...I’m going to assume you remember about as much as me as how we ended up here?”
“Nothing?” She questions, holding the bed sheet just a little tighter to her body. Maddie feels very exposed, in more ways than one, even as this guy tries his best to avert his eyes and give her some sense of privacy.
“Oh yeah,” he replies, awkwardly scratching the back of his head with his left hand. “I remember meeting you at the bar last night and...that’s about it.”
She can remember that much too…and that it was Buck who convinced her to go.
Oh, she’s going to kill her brother…or maybe he’ll kill her after he finds out she’s married a complete and total stranger; all she knows is someone is definitely dying, and out of the two Buckley siblings it will most likely be Buck, because this mess has his name written all over it. There’s just no way Maddie Buckley, the girl who has always been just a little too shy and humble, had looked at some stranger she met in a Las Vegas casino bar and thought to hell with it, let’s get married. A few drinks would have loosened her up but not enough to engage in whatever the hell transpired last night, especially not as she’s trying to make a fresh start with her little brother. She must have been flat out drunk out of her mind, and Buck as well, because apparently he hadn’t stopped her from falling into that funny trap people joke about when visiting Vegas.
Come on Maddie, just a few shots. We came here to have fun, remember? You deserve it.
Those words ricashed in her head, causing her pounding headache to worsen at Buck’s encouragement to get her to have fun instead of looking over her shoulder for ghosts that probably weren’t there. Technically he was right, they were driving through Vegas for that reason alone, but her idea of fun definitely did not involve a Casino’s church and a waking up in a bed with someone she can’t even remember the name of.
Oh yeah, Buck is totally dead.
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6. A turning point in their life
memories. (no longer accepting)
Two years to the day.
He doesn’t know why he’s keeping track. (Really, he shouldn’t.) Each day that passed was a reminder—of what he had and what he lost, his zenith and his descent. It could only be a bitter thought, but he counts all the same.
Where was he now anyway? (He hadn’t wondered that for a while.) That didn’t really matter either—so long as it wasn’t Grado, he would bear no consequence. (So long as it wasn’t Grado, he was far away from home.) He never dwelt anywhere for more than a week anyway; it was very possible that he was as far as Frelia now, or even Carcino; or perhaps he’d already wandered south again, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up with another charge.
What difference would that make? He already had a running list of all that he’d done wrong—faces that would vaguely recognize him as the ex-general of the Grado Empire–
“Excuse me, sir.”
He doesn’t react at first, merely taking the words to be part of the din of the marketplace. It was hardly unheard of for salespeople and merchants to call for the attention of passersby; even before joining the army, he knew to ignore them for peace of mind.
“Sir?”
It was with the voice directly at his side—not some vague call for any but directly for him—that Valter at last turned his gaze; and there is something distantly familiar about the face he sees, the way it’s shaped and the features it bears. They have never met before, he knows, but there is a light familiarity to it all the same.
“ Yes? ”
Recognizing he has his attention, the man clears his throat and then continues:
“Might you be Valter Avci? Of the Empire of Grado?”
The Mo– Valter’s eyes narrow. (He does not share his last name so easily.) The other man stands a bit straighter in response, clearly unnerved by the hunter’s gaze.
“I was asked by His Majesty to deliver this to you,” and he produces an envelope, neatly closed, the wax seal of the emperor holding it shut. Valter takes it, looks at it closely, and then accepts it—
This is real.
“ Did he send a message alongside it? ”
“No, sir. Just the letter.”
The marketplace is too loud—too open—for such a thing. Already, it was remarkable that he might be addressed here—but given the casual nature of their encounter, the way both of them seem completely belonging to the space, Valter could not fault the method. (He would be untraceable otherwise.)
The letter is done away with, stored safely for a quieter place in which it could be read.
“ If that is all, I have no questions. You are free to return. ” The messenger nods, understanding, before disappearing into the crowd. Valter’s inner thoughts resume:
A message from the crown, hm? (A dark part of him wonders if it is to lighten exile into execution.)
But that is put off until nightfall, when Valter opens the letter at last. It is in silence and seclusion, with no chance of being overheard—and with the contents therein, that could only be for the best. (It must be dire, he thinks, if his services were so desired.)
It was a game, of course, as to whether the letter’s contents could be trusted—if so, then this could only be the start of his true zenith; if not, then to abide would be marching to his grave.
But what was another slight? (It was better than waiting for nothing to happen, to live each day without purpose, merely awaiting an end.) His identity is unknown here, and he would not let it be discovered.
The letter is burned—but only after its contents are charred into his memory. To make certain every stroke of ink was permanently ingrained into his memory, such that he could recite it at will if necessary, could discern it from a fake or copy. No thief or spy would know he was pardoned, but he—and the emperor, as it stood at present—would.
This was a turning point—he was certain. (It could only be.) A part of him grows brighter, a searing flame, a reflection of the sun.
And the world would burn.
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i didn't want to add to the post itself, even in the tags, and derail it, but i just saw a post calling for support of people who are against taking meds for various reasons, and it was formatted like "here's to [blank]" and towards the end one of them was "here's to the people who are now disabled from a previous med"
and i just had the most profound holy shit that's me moment
bc about 2 years ago now, my psych took me off vyvanse bc i relapsed with my ED & because of like. protocol or whatever it didn't matter that i already have no appetite meds or no, she said she could get in a lot of trouble if she's found to have known i was struggling with an eating disorder & she continued to prescribe me stimulants
anyways and so she put me on an SNRI (strattera) for my adhd and when i was allowed to go back on vyvanse, the withdrawal from strattera triggered debilitating chronic migraines, when i'd had like. 2 or 3 migraines in my entire life before that
i can't believe i never fucking considered that my migraines are part of my various disabilities. like yeah dude that sure fucking is disabling huh.
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