#au: the same and yet different

[vartouhix]

open to: any verse: Sailor Moon, Pacific Rim, MCU, DCU, Detroit: Become Human, Greek Mythology, Persona 5, Valorant, Life is Strange, Jujutsu Kaisen... honestly any world with clubs and aggressive people works lol. note: Your muse could be the person who was bothering her inside the club, or someone who witnessed it and came out to check on her. Or they could be getting a breath of fresh air at the same time. Or meeting up with her, etc.

2:31a.m.

When the light of her phone screen shut off, all that remained was the light of the bright, colorful signs on the main street. The rays of light reached into the darkness of the alleyway for her, but were ultimately swallowed up in shadow. She wasn’t bothered. She would rather remain hidden for the moment. Her heart was still racing from the encounter she’d just endured behind the wall she now leaned up against, lolling her head back to let it rest on the brick. People could be so aggressive in their sexual conquests, at times. It was simultaneously scary, frustrating, and pathetic how easily rejection coaxed them into rage. She rolled her hand on her wrist, still surprised at how strong they had been when they had gripped her wrist. No normal person should be able to hurt her so easily.

The cold winter air helped clear her head, ebbing away at the adrenaline until she was no longer shaking from the incident, but rather from the cold. She shoved her phone into her coat pocket to instead take a handful of fabric into each hand, pulling the garment closer around her small frame. She turned to lean on her side, putting her back to the wind to keep it from biting at her nose and cheeks any more.

[forgettable-au]

Does Flowey exist in this au?

Yes, he does.

Everything's pretty much the same when it comes to the regular story in this AU. It's just the past, especifically Papyrus' past (wich we don't know much about to begin with) that changes

Actually Flowey is one of the main characters in the story! (the main story of this au is divided between the past before the game and a post-pacifist timeline:D)

He and Papyrus will have a fun dynamic

-some thought I had in tags behind the keep reading

Srry for the spelling mistakes in here but I can't go and fix tags because I would end up erasing everything😭tumblr struggles

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

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for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

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Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

[somerandomcockroach]

A large burning canvas could be seen in the distance.

The neat fingers, full of small dents from the friction of the sword handle, caught a small flame, which immediately went out from faint pressure.

There was silence, a living silence, one of those that strains with its sound. A warm wind heated his battered, but carefully polished armor.

"You want to say something"

"I want" Blurr answered, turning sharply to the dark silhouette behind him that was quietly watching him until now. He clenched his fist with a grinding sound, where the spark died out, and demonstratively opened it towards the darkness. "And this is how you are paid for making the world freer! This is what remains of your legacy, and you react as if it doesn’t concern you at all!"

"It does not concern me anymore" the figure answered him calmly.

"Shockwave, stop!"

"Is that an order?"

"It's a request” His angry expression made it clear that this request was an obligation. “I just don't recognize you for these few months." His hand shook slightly with anger. Black smoke seeped through the cracks in his armor.

"I don't recognize myself for even longer time." Blurr visibly trembled at these words, realizing where the dialogue was leading. Shockwave slowly approached, his long, deformed fingers, three times longer than one of Blurr's fingers, carefully reached out to his hand and wrapped his palms in his huge paws, kneeling down to be on the same level with him. "Blurr, I-"

Blurr turned his head away so as not to see one piercing, but such a swampy dim light of his terrifying eye, which had become more precious to him than his weekly knightly brigandage. "Shut up. It's too early, we haven't agreed on when exactly to do this"

The dull mass of metal, which was only a tangible casing, after some hope of catching at least a spark of doubt, only lowered its head heavily. The crackling of the fire continued to be heard around. The soot reached them, gifting them with at least some warm light among the shades of cold before dying. Realization, regret, reluctance were not reflected in the knight's optics. His armor, always proudly looking into the face of danger, now reflected only the cowardly lights of the fire from behind. Despite this, he did not remove his hand from the strong lock until the blades themselves parted. Shockwave disappeared. Disappeared as he had done for the past few months.

Blurr turned back to the burning wall. From afar were heard screams, squeals, grinding, clanking. The column of fire did not subside, as if it was fed by fuel from secret reserves. It had been burning like that for hours, as if to show the greatness of this building over others that would have left only a column of smoke long ago.

Shockwave's last school of dark magic was burning out, as was the will of its creator to live.

[starlightshore]

AU comic foundation (as I'm still planning it out).

A mix of "Danny is taken in by Aunt Alicia and not Vlad" and "Nobody knows" AUs. Jazz is still alive because losing your parents is already hard enough, I don't want Danny's entire life to be ruined here. That's not to say he isn't completely a wreck though.

After an incident, the Fenton kids and Alicia move to a little town named Amity Park... Surely nothing will go wrong here as well, right?

The comic will be jumping around and dealing with the mystery of what exactly happened to Danny. As well as some new, strange events that affect the town soon after his arrival.

Really, I just wanted to explore a Nobody Knows Au while making Danny a bit more harsh and edgy than usual, haha! I want to try something more dark and serious than what I usually make as well.

[modcroissant]

I promise the askbox will open soon- in the meantime, have yandere headcannons and art of both Shadow Milk and Blueberry Milk Cookie.

Shadow Milk Cookie

You can't tell me that this man won't make a deceit interpretation of you, and make that interpretation extra detailed until the very last is both drawn and colored.

Making him jealous is definitely something you shouldn't do. Seriously, you're asking for the poor cookie that you talked with to crumble for witches' sake.

Absolutely made a puppet of you and likes to make a small show where you and him are married.

No matter what kind of show he puts up, he'll always have your puppet as the king/queen role. That's to show how important you are to him!

Expect a lot of kisses from him, you know that video of a guy with a lot of lipstick marks all over his face? Yeah, that's you.

Did you think Shadow Milk will tolerate some cookie flirting with you? It doesn't matter if they're joking or not, he's not letting some pathetic dough have their hands on you.

Likes to keep you in a cage, he does this to show you off to the rest of the beasts like a hunter catching a prey.

Absolutely likes it when tying you in his puppet strings, he likes having control over you. He's a beast remember?

Blueberry Milk Cookie

Absolute gentlemen (most of the time)

If you're ever feeling down, Blueberry Milk will try and cheer you up. Seriously, this man will try everything to even offering to make your comfort food.

He doesn't go for the violent option, he lets your friends talk to you as long as they don't break any boundaries.

Unlike Shadow Milk, Blueberry Milk is more on the lighter side when it comes to kisses. Kisses on your cheek, forehead, back of your hand you get the drill.

Sick? Blueberry Milk is all over you. He will NOT let you out of bed until you recovered, he'll bring breakfast to you in bed, read you stories and tuck you in bed.

Writing letters to you is a must on his part, he's a busy cookie and doesn't have a lot of free time. Therefore the least he can do to make you not feel neglected is write letters and have a blueberry bird send it to you.

If you ever come into his office while he's busy, he'll give you kiss on the lips almost right away. Seriously- this cookie has a lot of duties on his shoulders and just wants to come home to you.

His champions tease him a lot of this obvious obsession crush he has, he doesn't really care about what they say, he just wants to hold your hands for even just a moment before he could start his duties.

All in all, Blueberry Milk is your top option if I'm being honest.

[whenuwishuponastar]

"So let's make a decision, start a new religion

Yeah, we're gonna build a temple to our ̥̘ͭ͠L̏ͦ̀ͯͨ͋͟͏̣̪͈̼̯̜̔͆͂̇͘͝ͅo͇̬͎͉͎̱̗͖͙̼͍ͦͪͪ̽̑͊́͢v̷̩̣̗̩͇̦̠͈̥̻̗̣͚̺̎͂̀́̏̀̕e̒ͦ̇̈҉͙͓̳͓̳"

[deliriuxe]

@megalommi yeah no I'm definitely not normal about these two sorry to say

[clegfly]

I’ve… I’ve been thinking lately…

[artbyfuji]

branwens & spardas 😁💥

[puppetmaster13u]

have a very early wip of a tea party :>

This is @phoenixcatch7 's Possessed Doll Au

[vartouhix]

open to: any verse: MCU, DCU, Valorant, Persona 5, Detroit: Become Human note: Save for the Valorant verse, she is an alien stranded on Earth. Your muse can be the person she pushed, or a bystander, or the truck driver.

Vartouhi let out a screech as she pushed herself, eyes radiating with a strong white light. Her telekinetic influence propelled her forward at an astounding speed, and she collided with the figure–hard. Her arms pushed and her powers shoved for good measure, sending the person flying to safety. She, on the other hand, crashed into the front of the hulking mass of metal, the roar of the truck’s horn just barely drowning out the smash of metal and thud of her body hitting it. Her powers involuntarily lifted her to fling over the back of the truck, rather than falling underneath to be run over and crushed. She landed on the street with a resounding smack and a sickening crack.

[eatmy-customjorts]

they would cause so much chaos and sarcastic arguments if they ever hung out or anything

[kikizoshi]

Sun and Moon as Two Broken, Overcompensating Parts of a Whole

I think treating Sun and Moon as opposing coping methods in the same person/body could be an interesting slant to the Daycare Attendant. Where Moon is the part of the DCA that needs them to stop, to rest, they can't keep going on like this. And Sun is the part of the DCA that can't stop no matter what, that has to keep things together, that can't let them rest because the moment they relax everything will fall apart. The need for rest vs the need for progress, acted out in two personalities in one body. Neither are fully right, and neither are fully wrong. They can't give up and succumb to their circumstances (Moon), but they can't keep burning themselves out trying to shove broken pieces back together (Sun). And actually, both are making what the other needs a hostile option. Sun needs to rest, but he can't because the moment he does, Moon will shove him down forever. Moon needs the drive to keep going, but Sun is actively burning them out and making it so excruciating that Moon can't even consider trying. Since neither can reach true peace solely with their own methods, they overcompensate with their faulty coping mechanisms and spiral almost past the point of no return.

That's why merging into Eclipse finally gave them peace. Because together, they have the ability to rest, take things calmly and slowly, not succumb but allow space to breathe. Whereas apart, they literally split at the seams; Sun will forever keep trying to run and Moon will forever keep trying to stop. Crucially, because both are a part of a whole--they'll never be able to operate on their own entirely because they each need the other to be their whole self. Which is literally what Eclipse is. Yin and Yang slotted together.

(This post is a mix of speculation and ideas for how the DCA works in a narrative. It's not meant to be a lore analysis or 100% canon-accurate, just to work from a story perspective.)

[modcroissant]

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? You haven't talked since!"

"I know you're upset, you just don't want to admit it now, oh-so Glorious Hero of Knowledge?"

"Don't call me that! you know that title is no longer in my name!"

"I lost it because of you! Thanks to you, thanks to this darn corruption, I'm stuck here with you!"

"Aww~ is little mr. headmaster here angry?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?! Those titles are no longer in my name!"

"I know, I know. I just love to see your expressions! There's barely anything entertaining here and I'm bored~"

"That's because we're in my mind here-"

"You mean, OUR mind?"

"This is still my mind and body, but I guess I have no choice but to agree for once, we ARE sharing one body after all."

"See? I knew my words are correct!"

"As if they were in the first place..."

AskBox is Open!

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Do keep in mind that no inappropriate asks are allowed, also if you're confused which is which, here is a little guide.

This Text: Shadow Milk Cookie

This Text: Blueberry Milk Cookie

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[stevebabey]

i love u x reader fics and i will never abandon u but dear god [shivers] the steve harrington x reader tag is shit on a level of epic proportions like sweet jesus