#swap shuffle earth

[atherflame-theconcubus]

Interdimensional names/nicknames

We already talked about this with radiant, but it didn’t really catch up on it much with the others… So I’m gonna do that now

Eclipse: radiant

Lunar: Lune

Sun: Sol

Moon: Frost

Earth: Gia*

Ruin: Nova

Jack: hollow moon/hollow

Solar flare: proto

Blood moon(fused): Orchid*

Bloody (older twin): Canna*

Harvest (younger twin): hibiscus*

Good moon: crescent

KC: Stellar *

Glamrock chica: chickpea

Old eclipse: Araceli/Catalyst 

* Gia is earth’s actual name within swap shuffle. I just called her earth for simplicity sake

* The twins were programmed with this as their interdimensional name. Hence the extreme difference between the rest of the cast, when split, they decided to continue with the flower symbolism names

* the original nicknames for the twins were carnation (the older twin) & amaryllis (the younger twin). Their nicknames got changed due to the symbolism of the original flowers, chosen not fitting their personalities.

* originally this kill codes nickname was nebula, and this was posted with nebula as his nickname. I just remembered nebula is already a character in the sun and moon show so I had to change it.

[atherflame-theconcubus]

The first tag is talking about two of my AUs

Booping any version of bloodmoon would be considered danger boops. Boop at your own risk, I cannot guarantee your safety.

[thetriumphantpanda]

I Was Enchanted To Meet You | J. Miller Drabble

Summary | Literally just a Drabble about Joel being an era's tour dad, meeting a pretty girl in cowboy boots and flirting. That's it. It's dumb. This goes out to my girl Doni @morning-star-joy who is going to see Tay-Tay tonight and can now be delulu about meeting Joel Miller there. And also therapy for me because I'm in the UK and got waitlisted for tickets, so CRIES. I wrote this in like an hour so excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

Joel Miller didn't exactly understand when he'd signed up to take Sarah to her first concert. When she'd asked to use his credit card to buy the tickets, he'd just nodded and handed it over. When his bill came through the next month, he almost passed out from the cost. But stood here now, in seats that might very well give him a nosebleed, watching Sarah almost lose her mind over the fact that Taylor Swift was about to appear on stage, it was all forgotten. All Joel ever wanted was for his little girl to be happy.

He'd spent weeks listening to the songs, learning the lyrics so he might be able to sing along with Sarah. He watched her sit in front of the television each night making bracelets to trade, and he squirrelled away as much money as possible so he could buy her a t-shirt or something on the night too.

Joel was watching as Sarah swapped friendship bracelets with two girls to her right when something else caught his eye. Two people shuffling into the two seats that had been vacant in front of Joel and Sarah for most of the night. One of them, around Sarah's age, was almost as excited as his girl, bouncing up and down, looking around the stadium with eyes as wide as saucers, taking it all in, but you? You were something else entirely. You had a white cowboy hat sat on top of your head, not dissimilar to his own apart from the colour and the fact yours was covered in sparkly rhinestones. You had a white dress on, falling to your mid-thigh, made of lace and scalloped edges, and a pair of beat-up old brown leather cowboy boots. The literal picture of heaven on earth as far as he was concerned.

He watched as you pointed to the two seats in front of him and Sarah, motioning for the other girl to sit down so you could hand her the soda you were carrying. He noticed your wrists were covered in the same type of bracelets his daughter had been going wild for all evening. Almost on cue, Sarah leans over, tapping your shoulder.

"You wanna trade?" She asks, holding up her own plastic-laden wrist to show you.

"Hell yeah," You smile, nudging the girl with you, "Why don't you give this little superstar one of yours too?"

Joel watches intently as you let Sarah scan your wrists for the specific bracelet she wants, picking one made of pink beads, swapping it with one of hers that was made of black and gold. Joel had no idea what any of them meant, all he knew was that the bill for friendship bracelet materials on his credit card nearly rivalled the bill for the tickets.

"You want one as well, mister?" Your voice cuts through his thoughts, "Can't come and see Taylor and leave with empty wrists I'm afraid."

"Well, I ain't got anything to trade ya with." Joel shrugs.

"That's okay," you smile, "I'll forgive you, this time."

Joel keeps an eye trained on you as you search your wrists, obviously having something incredibly specific in mind for him. You find it, eyes lighting up as you pull it from your wrist and hand it over to him. He takes the delicate thing in his big palm - red, white and blue beads with letters in hearts that spell out 'Cowboy Like Me'. Very fitting.

"Thanks, Darlin'," He smiles, slipping it over his hand, "You been waiting to find the perfect man to give that to all night?"

You let your head fall back in a laugh and Joel thinks you might just be the prettiest goddamned girl he's ever seen in his life. Sarah is pulling at his wrist so she can see exactly what bracelet you've given her dad, laughing and then leaning forward.

"I made him wear the hat!" She exclaims, "Told him he had to fit in."

"Well, you made a good choice," You grin, "He looks mighty fine in his cowboy hat."

You finally turn your attention back to your companion - judging by your likeness he assumes it must be your little sister. You're pointing out things around the stadium for her to look at, and he can't help but find it endearing how she's bouncing in her seat at every little thing, much like Sarah had done when they'd taken their seats.

Joel feels a nudge to his side, Sarah is looking up at him with that glint he knows and loves so much - she's got an idea.

"She's really pretty, dad."

"Sarah!" He chastises, eye flickering to you to make sure you didn't hear what she'd said, but you look completely oblivious.

"She is though!" She retorts in a hushed whisper, "I think she likes you."

Joel brings a finger to his lips to try and get this devil of a girl to be quiet, but he can't help but indulge her - Sarah was right, you are really pretty, "She don't know the first thing about me," He finishes the conversation, "Now you sit tight, I'm going to find you a soda."

When Joel returns, to drinks in hand, he can see Sarah leant over the seats speaking to you. He dreads to think what she's been trying to cook up, seemingly obsessed with making sure he's not so lonely in life anymore.

"Move over," He asks, Sarah shifting to the seat he was in before he left, "Don't drink it all at once, you'll need it for all the screaming you're gonna do." He says, handing the soda to her.

Once he sits back down, you turn in your chair to speak to him.

"Sarah says you're a builder?" She asks, clearly just trying to make polite conversation with him whilst your sister speaks to Sarah.

"Contractor actually," He shrugs, as if it matters, "But yeah, I build stuff, what do you do?"

"I'm a teacher," You smile, "Teach 4th grade." He's about to ask you another question when every single person in the stadium starts screaming, he thinks by the end of tonight he might actually be deaf, "Well, you enjoy the show, mister, hope you learnt some lyrics."

Contrary to what he'd thought, Joel actually does enjoy the show. He sings along to some of the songs he remembers, dances with Sarah for most of the night and keeps a close eye on you during it all. You know every single word to every single song, just like your little sister and he has to admit that when you're throwing your hands in the air and screaming to the lyrics, he finds you prettier than he had done all night.

When all is said and done at the end of the night, you say a polite goodbye to him and Sarah. When he finally sits in his truck, waiting for the scores of traffic to clear so he can get them home, he kicks himself for not asking for your number, but resigns himself to the fact that it was fate. Meant to meet once and that was it. It's not until he's finally carried Sarah up to bed, fast asleep in his arms and settled down to unwind in front of the TV that he pulls his phone from his pocket and sees a message from an unknown number.

I was enchanted to meet you, Joel. Drinks? Saturday @ 6pm?

[becauseplot]

So. Today's Inktordem. Did I absolutely bite off more than I could chew? Yes. Did it turn out? Kind of! But it's written and NOT past midnight so I'll take it. Also, reminder I swapped days 3 and 5. This will definitely not be the last time I shuffle things around :]

Spoilers for OPD lore! (Not sure about which episode in particular you need to have watched...? I think up through episode 5 is enough but proceed with caution anyway.) Additional TWs for implied/referenced child abuse and implied/referenced critical illness. Let me know if I missed anything! <3

DAY 5 (3) – ORFANATO

1999

Cesar pants as he races up the hill. Running through bushes, stumbling past rocks, dodging trees. Eventually, the slope gets steep enough that the trees fall away, afternoon sun hitting the back of his neck, and Cesar has drop down onto his hands to grab old roots sticking out of the earth for help.

Dirt kicks down. A little ways up, climbing much faster, Bruno has paused to look back at him. He grins. “C’mon!” And he keeps on climbing.

Cesar adjusts his backpack and gives chase. He doesn’t manage to catch up to Bruno, but Bruno is still grinning when he leans over the crest of the hill and offers Cesar a hand up. He scrambles up the last of the incline and stands, spinning around in slow circles.

“Woahhhhhh,” Cesar whispers, taking it all in. “Bruno, this is awesome! You can see everything!”

And you can. There’s the street below, winding around the side of the hill, and Bruno’s bus stop further along it. Down the slope are the houses, the shops, their school at the edge of it; cars weaving between it all like little beetles in the grass, people walking the streets like ants; and far away, towards the setting sun, the forest at the other end of town that sweeps over the distant hills.

“Pretty cool, right?” Bruno says.

“Really cool! How did you find this?”

“I dunno, I just kinda found it. I started looking around in the bushes behind the bus stop, and then I found that trail, and then I kept climbing and—” He throws his arms out, gesturing to the horizons— “I was here! Oh, and…”

He turns and squints against the afternoon sun, shielding his eyes. Suddenly, he points. “There. That’s where I live.”

Cesar comes over and peers over his shoulder, where Bruno is pointing. He shields his eyes with a hand. “…The woods?”

“Yeah. Well, the orphanage is in the woods, obviously. You just can’t see it from here because all the trees are in the way. But it should be riiiight there.” He pauses. He turns a bit. “Or actually, there. Or there. Or—“

He whacks Cesar in the face with his arm. Cesar stumbles back. “Ow!”

“Hey!”

“What the heck!”

“You were in my way!”

They devolve into giggles, Cesar cradling his aching nose, beaming. He happens to look at the bottom of the hill, and he gasps. “Bruno! Your bus!”

Bruno’s eyes go wide. He trots to the edge of the hill, where Cesar is looking. “…Oh.”

“We can run!” Cesar says. He sits down at the edge of the hill to start sliding down the slope. “We can be quick, we can catch it.”

“I don’t think so.”

Cesar looks back. Bruno doesn’t seem happy. “Won’t you get in trouble, or…?”

“Uh…” Bruno tugs at the hems of his hoodie. “It’s probably fine. The Sisters don’t care that much, I’ve been home late before.” Bruno shrugs and gives a small smile. “I like being here more anyway. The rooms get really noisy.”

Bruno comes and plops himself down beside Cesar, shoulders bumping. Though the sun is bright without the shade of the trees, the wind is a hair cooler up here, a breath of relief in the cloying heat of the approaching summer.

“Anyway!” Bruno says. “You know my secret spot now! And no body else does. That means we can come up here and hang out, just the two of us, whenever we want.”

Cesar’s eyes go wide. His chest feels light. “Whenever we want?”

~*~

2002

“So that’s…that’s negative eight, right?”

“No. When you subtract a negative, it becomes positive, remember?”

“Rrrright.” Bruno flips his pencil around and erases his work. The eraser smudges dark across the page, staining it. “Awh, no.”

“Hold on.” Cesar puts his history worksheet down where he’s laid his hoodie out on the grass and plops his pocket calculator on it so it won’t blow away in the breeze. He rummages through his backpack and eventually finds a spare pencil sitting at the bottom of his bag. “Try this one. I don’t think the eraser is dried out.”

“Thanks.” Bruno reaches up from where he’s laid out on his stomach in the grass and takes the pencil. He erases more of the page, cleaner this time. “So that means it’s negative four.”

“Yep.”

“And I have to…divide. To get X by itself.”

“Yep.”

“So uh, negative twelve divided by negative four…” Bruno starts scribbling. “…is negative three.”

Cesar tilts his head to either side, smiling a little. “Ehhh…”

“What do you—OH. Right. Right. Negative divided by negative is positive.” Bruno flops onto his front, face planting into his worksheet. “Why is this so confusing,” he mumbles into the algebra.

“I think you got it, dude.”

Bruno lets out a long groan. Cesar pats his head. Bruno whines and bats Cesar’s hand away like a particularly despondent cat. Cesar giggles.

Bruno lifts his head out of his paper with a deep breath. “Okay.” He picks up his pencil. “Negative twelve divided by negative four is positive three. Which is…” He draws a box around the answer. “…equal to X. And that one’s done.”

“Yeah! See, I think you’re getting it now.”

“Maybe.” Bruno sighs. “Thanks for helping me. I—I really don’t get this stuff, I don’t know why.”

“Of course, it’s all good.” Cesar thinks. “Though… What about the older kids at the orphanage? They must’ve taken this math before.”

Bruno looks away, picking at the grass with a scowl. “None of the older kids ever want to help me. They just call me stupid.”

Cesar frowns, a sudden anger sweeping through him. “What the fuck, that’s not fair!”

Bruno gasps. “Cesar!”

“What? It’s not! You’re smart! I mean, you get all this history stuff a lot better than I do. And you’re really good at chess! And came up with a reason for why we were late so freaking Mrs. Leite didn’t give us another detention.”

Bruno winces. “I mean, I told her you had to help me wash bird poop off the front of my shirt in front of the whole class. And now everyone’s being mean and weird about it.”

“Better than another detention.” And better than the truth, which was that he was panicking and crying behind the boy’s bathroom for the whole of recess just because the cafeteria was a little too crowded today and Bruno was there trying to help him calm down. Forget what Bruno thinks, Cesar feels stupid. “I’m so sick of doing garbage pick-up on the yard.”

Bruno picks up his pencil and spins it around. “Me too…”

Cesar swallows at that. His face gets a little hot. “You don’t have to stay when I get all…you know, panicky. Especially if it’s gonna make you late. I’m fine by myself.”

Bruno stops spinning his pencil. “But then I’d leave you alone?”

“Yeah?”

“Doesn’t that usually make it worse?”

Yes. “I’ll be fine, I mean, it always stops eventually.”

“Or I could stay, and it gets better sooner.” Bruno shrugs. “I don’t really care.”

Cesar hesitates. “But don’t you get in trouble with the Sisters? Or the Father?”

Bruno huffs, dropping his chin into his hands. “Everyone’s always in trouble for some reason. At least I’m not one of the ones getting into fights.” Bruno’s mouth screws up, eyes firmly not meeting Cesar’s. He looks out at the hills below, towards the forest. “Yeah…”

Bruno doesn’t talk an awful lot about what the Sisters and the Father do when they get in trouble, but he’s noticed Bruno sometimes comes to school wincing the day after they’re sent home with a detention slip. Cesar is scared to know what getting into fights would lead to.

When Cesar comes home with a detention slip, his mom just gets worried. She knows why he has it.

“Uh,” says Cesar, voice small. “Sorry. I shouldn’t mention it.”

Bruno just shrugs again.

Cesar’s foot bounces where his ankles are crossed. Then, he uncrosses his legs and slides down onto his front like Bruno, chin rested in his hands. Cesar stares at him. And stares at him. And stares at him.

Bruno, eventually, gets his eyes off that forest and looks at him. Another beat of intense staring, and Bruno makes a confused face. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m just looking.”

They stare at each other, contest.

Cesar blows air in Bruno’s eyes.

“Hey!” Bruno laughs. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking about the homework,” Cesar replies. “Do you wanna keep going?”

“Ehh…” Bruno scratches the back of his neck. “Only if you want to keep helping me. Don’t you have to go home soon?”

“Mom only really cares that I’m back home before it’s dark.” And it’s true. She doesn’t mind when she knows he’s hanging out with Bruno. Cesar takes Bruno’s worksheet and spins it around so he can read it. “So which one are you on now?”

~*~

2005

“…But she kept going on and on about going to the neighbor’s party, so then I just yelled at her to leave me alone and walked out. Went up to my room.”

“I uh, I take it she didn’t like that?”

“Ha, no.”

Bruno huffs a dry laugh from where he sits in the grass beside him. “Jeez. So then what happened?”

“Nothing. I didn’t come down, she didn’t come up. I went to bed and by the time I came down this morning she already left for work.”

“No, dude…”

“Yeah.” Cesar sighs. He keeps his eyes on the clustered city lights, burning bright against the black outline of the forest. “So I guess that’s why I wanted to stay out here tonight. I didn’t want to be sitting at home just…waiting for her to get back, you know?”

Bruno hums.

There’s a silence that follows. The crickets fill it. In the darkness of night, with his closest friend sitting beside him, Cesar finally finds the words.

“I just—I don’t like fighting with my mom. You know that. I feel awful afterwards. And then I start missing my dad, and then I feel even worse. I know—I know she’s just worried that I don’t have a lot of friends because it’s just her and I, you know? A-And I know she’s more stressed than usual because I overheard her talking to Mrs. Couto on the phone yesterday about how they’re doing layoffs at work—“

“Cesar…”

“—and she’s—well she’s newer than a lot of the staff there so there’s a good chance she’ll get cut first like last time…”

Cesar scrubs his hands up and down his face. “Ugh! It’s just shit right now, dude. I hate it.”

Bruno bumps his shoulder lightly. Almost as if on accident. “I’m sorry.”

Cesar sighs. “It’s fine. Thanks. I’m—I don’t know. It’s fine.”

“Is she… Going to be worried about you being out this late?”

“I’ve been out later. She’d guess I’m with you anyhow, so.” Cesar shrugs. “She won’t be worried.”

“…Right,” Bruno drawls after a moment. Cesar looks at him, confused by his tone. Bruno is grinning. “Because we’re so good at keeping out of trouble.”

Cesar gestures sharply at him. “She doesn’t need to know about the bike incident. She doesn’t. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”

“Like how you suck at running?”

“Dude.”

Bruno chuckles, hiding his smile behind his hand.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Cesar says, even as a smile pulls at his lips. “She can’t know, because if she does, then she’ll tell Mr. Campos and then we'll be so fucked.”

“Relax, relax, I won’t say anything, I promise. We said to the grave, right?”

“To the grave, Bruno. Or Mr. Campos will actually murder us.”

Cesar stretches his arms out in front of him. He notices that moisture in the night air isn’t quite as dense as usual. With the breeze up here, it’s refreshing. “You know, if I ever, like, smooth things over with my mom, you should come over for lunch again sometime.”

Bruno chuckles. It gives Cesar pause; it’s a sadder sound this time. “I don’t think the Sisters will be letting me out much after this.”

Cesar grimaces. Ah yeah, the Sisters’ curfew. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah. I’ll just have to play extra good for a while, you know?”

No, Cesar…really doesn’t. Cesar leans back on his hands and looks to Bruno. He can’t quite say the question, but…

Bruno gets the idea. He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s…better here than it is back there. The Sisters and the Father have been really weird recently, more strict about random things. Kish says they’re trying to ‘keep appearances’ for Mister Fritz.” Bruno sighs. “Everyone’s more on edge than usual.” He looks down, picking at the grass. “And I’m…”

“…You’re what?” Cesar asks.

Bruno stares at out at the city for a moment. He stares out at the forest beyond it. He hugs his arms around his knees. “…Nothing. It’s nothing. Things are a lot right now, is all.”

Cesar suddenly isn’t sure what to say anymore. He bumps Bruno’s shoulder with his own. Something is just slightly left of everything else. Cesar can hear the wind through the trees.

“I like it up here, though,” murmurs Bruno.

“…I do too.”

Cesar tilts his head back and stares up at the stars in the sky. They can’t see many, not with the glare from the city down below, but a few break through the void, little pinpricks of light.

He looks at Bruno. “Bruno?”

Bruno looks back at him. “Yeah?”

Cesar swallows. “…Do you ever feel like you just—don’t know what to do?”

~*~

2007

First he had to make up that quiz, then Mr. Medina wanted him to run those packets down to the main office, then Marcos stopped him in the hall about fucking math club again—it’s always everything at once, isn’t it? Cesar is huffing by the time he starts to climb the slope, passing his hands over the roots as he darts up.

“Bruno!” he calls ahead. “Sorry I’m late, I swear I…”

But the hilltop is empty. Just the grass and the late afternoon sun. Cesar stands at the edge of the slope heaving for breath, backpack falling off his shoulders, and stares at a little sheet of paper tacked to earth with the sharp end of a bent paperclip. Cesar stoops over and picks it up.

Sorry I missed you. I had to head back to the orphanage. I know you said you wanted to hang out, but you know how it is with curfew. (A short, scribbled-out phrase. “I can’t something.”) Maybe some other time.

—Bruno

It’s the most words Bruno has “spoken” to him in the last several weeks.

Cesar stares at the paper in his hands. He crumples it and throws it at the ground. Then he picks it up and un-crumples it and sits his ass down at the edge of the slope and does not cry about it. And then he goes home.

(Maybe some other time?)

~*~

2009

Cesar climbs the slope, beads of sweat on the back of his neck. It’s easier if you run up the side, let the momentum carry you part of the way, but…he doesn’t feel it today. Everything inside him is shaking, his breath thin.

And yet he climbs, and he sits down in the dewy grass, not giving a damn that it soaks through his pants. And he pulls his legs up to his chest and plants his face on his knees and wraps his arms around his head and tries to breathe.

The doctor’s appointment went awful. The disease has only progressed. His mom will only get sicker as time goes on. They’re looking at treatment options, what could make her healthier before it can get worse, and what could be more effective in the long run; they’re not the same thing.

It’s just the two of them.

It wasn’t always this way.

He wasn’t always this way.

Cesar takes a deep breath and lifts his head. There’s the street below, winding around the side of the hill, and the bus stop further along it. Down the slope are the houses, the shops, his old primary school at the edge of it; the traffic congesting the arteries of the city; and far away, towards the setting sun, the forest at the other end of town.

Cesar tilts his head to the side. There’s smoke coming from somewhere in the forest, staining the afternoon sky an ugly brownish-grey. Probably some dumbass kids and a campfire gone wrong. Cesar lies down on his back, folds his arms over his eyes, and waits for something to feel better.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 11 - Revise

Previous bits here

Um, sorry John…

<insert swirly back in time sound effect here>

🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙

John growled and swiped his organic chemistry notes off his desk. The file sailed over the bed, slammed into the wall and, inevitably, the pages popped out of the binder and fluttered all over the room.

It was useless anyway, he couldn’t focus. None of it was making sense. Chemistry made no sense. His lack of ability to THINK made no sense. Probably because his entire life, right now, made no sense. His scattered notes had more chance of putting themselves back together than his family did. But he couldn’t let himself start thinking about that.

Not now. Not yet.

John had managed to get nearly back on track over the last couple of months, after that first four weeks of agony. He’d have respected the determination, the sheer bloody-mindedness that only John ever came close to taking his title for.

John just had to get through the next 3 weeks then he could… fall apart or whatever.

He clawed at his scalp in an attempt to release the constant tension that was making his eyes hurt and to distract himself from the suspicion he already had fallen apart or whatever.

Everything was… too much. He had so much to do. And 418 hours 47 minutes in which to do it all. So much still to get in his head. Which was way too full of all of the other thoughts he couldn’t compartmentalise properly because apparently he was weak minded and about to throw everything away. And on top of all that, with Dad doing whatever he was doing with the GDF big wigs, John was expected to cook for everyone and look after the kids and generally pick up the slack Virgil had just abandoned for a five day binge of complaining of a headache and creeping around the house muttering nonsense to himself.

John was actually a little worried about that. More than a little. But he forced himself to shut it away. It would be fine… Virgil would be fine. He had to be fine. Just like John did. Was. Fine was the Tracy way. Scott was always…

No. Stop.

Later.

He dug his fingernails into his thighs, bending one of them slightly back on the thick seam of the chinos he’d been wearing for 19.7 days. Nobody had noticed. All the other pants he owned were annoying. So. Whatever.

Scott would have noticed and quietly ordered him a second pair…

His fingertip throbbed angrily.

Argh, this had to stop. None of these thoughts were a good use of time. All of it was irrelevant, except the work.

A tiny voice asked how he could possibly betray his brother’s memory by adding him to that list… he quashed it with a mental fist of steel. He’d want him to do well. He’d always been proud, cheered him on… been sat in the front row between Dad and Virgil and clapping excessively loudly as John reluctantly shuffled red-faced on to the stage at high school prize-giving...

Breathe, John.

He picked up a well thumbed tome on astrophysics… it may be a waste of time - this was easy and didn’t need revision, but he needed to stop these unproductive trains of thought. This was easier to get absorbed in.

Approximately 8.25 minutes later his focus was broken yet again by a scratching noise above him. Aaaaah. Not bats again! Please no, they gave him the creeps but it was illegal to shift the things once they took up residence. He’d have to swap rooms with Virgil. He couldn’t sleep up here if there were…

Hell, they were massive sounding bats…

John flung open the window to peer up into the eaves… Dad had blocked the hole last year so how had they got in there to…

Some sixth sense made him suspicious of the volume of the scrabbling noise overhead and he ducked his head back inside, very narrowly avoiding having his face smashed in by a falling roof tile. Closely followed by… a shoe. A big shoe.

What? It hit the ground with a thud and John squinted down at it. A boot? One of Virgil’s he was sure of it but why on earth…?

A thud overhead, a clatter, a muffled curse in a very familiar baritone and two more tiles slid past his horrified face in quick succession.

Everything in his head went grey and screechy. He rushed from through the house yelling for Dad. Screeching for Dad. It was him screeching. He had no control over his vocal cords anymore, they had short circuited with his amygdala and were bypassing all coherent thought.

There was only panic.

🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡💙

Thank you to @astranite for helping me voice this one better - I’ve not got inside John’s head much before, at least without EOS for him to bounce off…

[the-violet-galaxy]

What do you do when you have so many AU or fic ideas you want to explore but have no idea where to start, haha

I have TWO (2) swap AUs that are completely different from each other --

One swap AU called "Killswitch", where Sun and Moon's personalities and characters are roughly the same, but SUN was the one with the Killcode instead, aaand just playing around to see how the TSAMS story would have played out from there. Sun-type models and moon-type models switch roles (Eclipse manifested in Moon's head, Lunar and Solar are in entirely different places, characters like Bloodmoon, SolarFlare, and Jack-O-Moon have different names and slightly different personality traits due to swapping to the other celestial type, etc. and so on)

And a more traditional character swap AU, affectionately called "Ruinswap", where everyone's roles are shuffled; Ruin and Earth are closely connected and are one of the focuses

(Which is just funny because I couldn't decide on just one; why not both?)

I have more possible ideas for chapters for "If Ruin Was Never Caught"

Several ideas for "OCs" for variations of TSAMS characters that come from alternate dimensions; and for these I'm really excited but I REALLY have no idea where to start with them, haha

and other various oneshots

There's so much and it's hard to figure out where to begin!

[ghost-guard-13]

Wildcard

| Bruce Wayne x GN! Reader |

( I wrote the first chapter when I was twelve and never finished it and I don't plan to but I wanted to get it out there so I don't regret it when I delete it from my drafts so.... Enjoy what could have been)

Warning: I'm not gonna edit this, so apologies for any cringiness

You walked down the gloomy streets of Gotham, cold hands stuffed in your red trench coat pockets as the dewy morning fog set in on the streets of your usual route to work.

You weren't sure why, but the eerie, almost creepy vibe of the city kept you calm. Sounds weird, I know, but you grew up in these roads. There was something comforting, knowing nothing had really changed. After all, you were one of the many to cause havoc on this unstable community. But enough about that, let's get you caught up, shall we?

You were born to F/n and M/n L/n, on a dreary, thundering evening. They say that as you were born, your cries shook the earth alongside the lightning just outside your window. They say chaos chose you as its carrier, its host, and that it was meant to be that you were born that fateful night.

You see, your parents weren't upstanding citizens by any means. They had actually met in jail, in their early years. Even after they left, they kept in touch, fought each other's addictions, loved each other fiercely through the worst of times. And eventually, you came along.

Through their many years of living, they'd made a lot of enemies. Somehow word got out of their whereabouts, of you. To put it simply, it was a miracle you survived the fire. Call it what you will, fate, destiny, chance...but you always thought that this is what was meant to happen. You were meant to create chaos, carry on your parents short legacy, make it better. You had always been a wild card of sorts.

During the early years of your life, you bounced from foster home to foster home, moving around so much, you knew the whole of Gotham like the back of your hand. Some people were better than others, but you learned from an early age not to give trust easily.

By the time you turned fifteen, you had a pretty impressive criminal record. Arson, Grand theft, Assault, Grand Auto theft, Vandalism, the list goes on. Finally, the city and the system had enough, and sent you across the state to 'Get some help' as they so graciously put it.

Now, twelve years later, here you are again, snagging a job at the Gotham Gazette, taking extra jobs to pay for your bills and groceries, and help poor Mrs. Katz with her children. But at night, it's different.

At night, you're free to be who you've been since such a young age. At night, you can cause trouble under a different name, try out new things, decide whether to help or destroy people. At night you come alive.

At night you're a Wild Card.

  ♥  ♤  ♦  ♤  ♣  ♤  ♣  ♤  ♣  ♤  ♣  ♤  ♦  ♤  ♥ 

Striding through the doors of your workplace, you look around to see the room empty. Smirking and wiping the remaining precipitation from your foggy glasses, you walk to Emma's desk, take the stack of papers next to her computer, and swap them with the pile from Jaz's table. Before anyone comes back, you go to your own desk and set your bag down, opening your computer and skimming over the draft you had been working on last night. Multiple sets of footsteps were heard and you put on a tired look when they passed by. The squeaking of chairs and shuffle of papers caught your attention, and you leaned back lightly to hear better.

"What the..." Emma mumbled. You chuckled quietly to yourself and went back to your work, a piece on the alarming decrease in pay rates in the lower city of Gotham. 

Wayne Enterprise's had been attempting to "bring Gotham back to its glory" from before all the crime started, which you weren't even sure existed. Hard working people were being let go, crime was only increasing, families were struggling, and the concerning appearance of a new villain had sent the city in even more distress. It was quite a depressing topic, but it would do good to make people aware, even if they didn't listen or care.

You were mulling over what a catchy title could be, when a newspaper was slammed down in front of you. You looked up at the person lazily, a brow raised in question. Your boss, Mr. Tuffin, with graying hair, wrinkly skin, dull sea green eyes and downturned chapped lips, glared down at you expectantly. "L/n." He growled. You weren't sure why he was always in a bad mood, but it wasn't really your problem. 

Taking an internal breath, you smiled politely and clasped your hands together, tilting your head a bit. 

"How can I help you?" Your voice was sugar coated, not at all like how you usually sound.

"Every paper out there will be coming to this event." He jabbed a pudgy finger at the paper in front of you. Glancing down, you saw that the cover had a black and white picture of a rich man in a suit, hair slicked back, white bursts of light from other cameras surrounding him. Bruce Wayne. Below it, in black bold letters was the caption, 'Wayne Enterprises Raising Money For The Less Fortunate Establishments Around The Area!' You fought the urge to roll your eyes and sighed, looking back up to your boss.

"And you want me to cover the story for ours?" You confirmed, having a pretty good idea where this conversation was going. He nodded curtly, retracting his hand and putting it back at his side.

"The party is tonight, starting at seven. Wear something nice and don't be late." He grumbled.

"Yes sir." You gave him a mock salute and he just humphed with a shake of his head. Once he was out of sight, you sunk back in your chair and went through your closet in your head. Finding a suitable outfit, you turned back to your current piece, settling on a decent title and going through your files for a proper picture for the cover. Putting it all together, you looked it over once more before giving an approving nod to yourself and set it out to be printed. 

Leaning back in your chair and placing your feet on your desk, you stretched your arms in front of you and cracked your knuckles, wondering if you'd be able to speak with Mr. Wayne himself. He was attractive, you'd admit that, but you didn't see what all the fuss was about. Sure he had money, but it's not like it helped much. There was still the rest of the city with dingy apartments or no homes at all. Hell, you could barely afford your home on top of bills and food. People barely knew anything about him, no one knew what happened when he was alone, which was a lot of the time. There was something mysterious about him, he was obviously hiding something.

 But what?

Reporters were always asking about his next event, his business's purpose, thoughts of all that's going on in Gotham and their very own vigilante, Batman. Not really what his personal life was like, and that's what you were curious about.

Oh yeah, and you had a bone to pick with Batman. He was always bothering you, whether you were doing something good or not. Okay, not you, Y/n L/n, but you as in what you are at night. Every villain in Gotham held a grudge with him, and for good reason, in your opinion. Just last week, you had been robbing a bank, nothing drastic mind you, but the money would've helped with this month's supplies and Mrs. Katz groceries. He was so annoying! And Batman? Really? It's not really creative. His outfit is very tacky and he's so dramatic. He causes more trouble than good anyways! While stopping some muggers, he'll demolish a building just to get to them. Like really?

You sighed frustratedly and flung your head back, your glasses riding up the bridge of your nose a bit, letting your thoughts run wild. That is, until the sound of someone clearing their throat caught your attention. Your gaze snapped up to theirs, and you saw that it was Emma. You smiled slightly and sat up, hands in your lap. She smiled shyly and rubbed her arm nervously. 

"Hey, I uh...I heard you're doing the story on Bruce Wayne's event tonight?" She almost whispered. She had always been a quiet girl, with long brown hair and bangs that covered her sparkling chocolate eyes. You had read a few of her pieces and were pleasantly surprised with her skills. She knew how to write a good story, and mostly focused on the heroes and villains of the city. You were pleased when she said she was working on an article for the mysterious Wild Card. 

You nodded to her previous statement and motioned for her to continue. 

"Well uh, I've considered doing a few pieces on him and, asked to work on the next event with him...I'm busy tonight so I can't go, but if you could...y'know put in a good word for me while you're there, I'd appreciate it." She smiled slightly. You smiled back and nodded, finding that it wouldn't be too out of your way.

"Yeah, of course." She grinned even wider and took a step forward as if to hug you, but thought better of it at last second and went back to the wall that separated your area from the rest of the building.

"Oh thank you thank you thank you!" She squealed and you chuckled to yourself. She spun around and walked off back to her cubicle. 

For the rest of the day, you perfected your various pieces and brainstormed for the topic of the event tonight. Parties weren't really your thing, but it was doable. You wondered if you would have enough time to cause a little trouble before the night was over. When you looked at the clock and saw that it was six, you decided that it was time to get ready. Shutting down your computer and grabbing your bag, you waved goodbye to Emma and Jaz, though Jaz was too focused on her book to notice. Walking leisurely down the streets, you couldn't help but get excited when you saw something that gave you an idea for your next scheme. It's fun to fabricate havoc.

By the time you got home, you were practically skipping, and quickly unlocked the seven deadbolts on your door. What? You could never be too careful. You may be able to protect yourself but your stuff couldn't. And even if someone were to make it past your door or window, they were in for a surprise, because you had tricks in every corner of your home. 

Moving on, you stepped over a wire and made it to your room and closet, setting your leather messenger bag on your bed while you took out your outfit for tonight. It was a white collared shirt that wasn't too tight, but not really baggy either. You wore plain black jeans that went to just above your waist, a black belt with bronze buckle, dress shoes you'd...found a few months ago, and a simple silver watch with black strap. You tucked your hair behind you with a bobby pin (Or just left it as it was), not wanting to draw too much attention. But you couldn't go out without your usual flare. Going over to your jewelry box, you took your blood red stud earrings, and a small black hoop earring for the shell of your ear. Walking back over to your cracked mirror, you smiled at your appearance. 

"Looking good L/n." You smirked to yourself, turning in the mirror and making adjustments here and there to your liking, straightening your glasses that fit your face perfectly. When you were done and looked down to your watch, you saw that it was already 6:45.

Cracking your knuckles once more, you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder and neck, so you wouldn't have to keep readjusting it to stay on your arm. Locking your door and going down the flight of stairs, you went out to the front of your building and flagged down a taxi, giving them the address of the venue.

Staring out the window, you watched figures moving along the streets, going about their night without the slightest clue that one of Gotham's newest villains was passing right by. It was amusing, in a way, how easily you could separate your different personalities and aliases, and no one knew the difference. Sure it could be lonely sometimes, but it was for the best.

The car came to a stop and you saw that there was a red carpet at the entrance, paparazzi flashing pictures of the beautiful building, important guests that obviously had more money than you ever would, and reporters from other papers desperate to speak to someone important. You paid the surprisingly cheap taxi driver and stepped out, walking with a somewhat confident swagger while your hands rested in your jean pockets. When the camera turned your way, you made a point to turn around, or duck your head enough for your hair to cover your face.

Once you made it inside the walls, you saw that it was a large courtyard, vines creeping up the walls, various flowers and trees scattered about or hanging from stone benches and bird baths. It was extraordinary, if you were being honest, but you felt that there was something, or someone, lurking in the shadows of this glorious party, and you knew they'd be causing trouble. Just the mere thought of it brought a smile to your lips. 

There were a lot of people, so you decided to bump around, mingle a little, and see who had the best story. You had been here for at least thirty minutes and had found a rather interesting woman who seemed to be here just for the booze and the guys - though she wouldn't object to women either - but she did share amusing stories and thoughts in her intoxicated state. After she got distracted by a rather beautiful man, you stepped away to get a drink, just sticking with water as of now. You preferred to drink alone, less of a chance to get hurt.

While you sipped from your glass, your eyes wandered around the venue behind your lenses, gazing over certain interactions, eavesdropping on not really interesting conversations, and studying different peoples minimal or flamboyant gestures when they spoke. You were distracted from your inspections when someone cleared their throat.

Glancing to your side, you saw an all too familiar face. Your eyebrows raising, you turned to face the man.

"Mr. Wayne." You greeted after swallowing your drink, your polite reporter smile pulling at your lips easily. "This event is wonderful, who planned it?" You asked.

"Oh just one of the companies designers." He shrugged, taking a plate of snacks from the table beside you. You nodded, making a mental note for the minor detail in your story. "Which paper are you from?" He asked.

"Ah, the Gotham Gazette of course." You grinned, not enough for it to be fake, but you usually don't smile this much. "Anyways, I was wondering if no could ask a few questions." You said, pulling out your journal. It obviously wasn't a question.

"Ask away." You knew he wasn't really looking forward to this, but definitely wouldn't show it.

Question after question, you knew how to ask and receive, and the teller thought nothing of it, just that you were an amateur reporter. That is, until the article comes out.

Bruce could see the glint in your eye, the sly of your smile, the calculations of your mind. He just couldn't see what it all meant.

He was about to request a break, really planning to never return, when a scream was heard from the other side of the courtyard.

Then a gunshot.

The lights went out.

And you took this as your moment, even if it wasn't meant to be yours.

[thewingedbaron]

Owlcatober Day Seven: Lamplight

A bit of a late entry tonight. I love to use these prompts as an excuse to establish little lore tidbits. Who could have sent this late night visitor? What does our Knight Commander have to hide?

This one might have some errors, its very late, but I told myself I was going to do my best to do these every day, so here we are. I hope you enjoy the results of diving way too deep into Pathfinder's lore to creatre character backstory :)

A Knife In the Dark (1,052 words)

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Warnings: Violence

Read here under the cut, or on Ao3 :)

Camp was always quiet this time of night. Some crusaders still moved between tens, swapping stories, sharing unapproved bottles of booze, or gambling away the hours with decks and dice. Out on the perimeter, the sentries walked their rounds until their feet kicked up the grass and left a bare path in the earth somewhere between their fiftieth and hundredth pass.

Light spilled across the grass from the Knight Commander’s tent. It seemed like the lamps were always lit, no matter the time of night. The general staff and their aids came and went, dropping off reports, checking the large map of the World Wound that lay perpetually pinned to the grand table in the center of the space. Vysk rubbed her weary eyes, holding off sleep for just a little longer as she poured over the day’s reports. Supplies were down, tensions were high. The crusaders were apprehensive about the final run to Drezen, but for now, their faith in the Gods and their Commander held. There were no desertions to be reported tonight. Small blessings, she supposed. 

“How did we end up here?” Vysk wondered aloud, shuffling the same stack of reports around the table. “From pirates to demons huh?” 

In the corner of the tent, a mass of feathers and fur shifted in acknowledgement of her words. A single eye reflected the low lamplight as Jester fixed her with a concerned glance, cooing softly. 

“I’ll sleep soon.” Vysk smiled, suppressing a yawn. “Just one more stack of scouting reports to get through and I swear…” her voice trailing as the yawn won her over. 

Across the tent, Jester stood, ruffling his feathers out like a cat. He slowly unfurled his wings, nearly touching the sides of the tent as he stretched. Vysk grinned at her hippogriff, her oldest friend. 

“Go back to sleep buds.” She whispered. “Just because I have to be subjected to a tide of paperwork doesn’t mean you need to suffer with me.” 

Jester cooed softly, cocking his head as he took in the sounds of the night. Vysk watched him for a long moment, an amused smile on her lips. Exhaustion tugged at her eyelids. Perhaps that was the reason she nearly missed Jester’s alert. 

The hippogriff stiffened, hooked talons gripping the earth beneath him as if ready to launch himself forward as his head snapped to the back of the tent. A long tear had appeared in the cloth, silently ripping its way down the wall just behind the Knight Commander. Following Jester’s gaze, Vysk threw herself forward, hands automatically reaching for the axes on her waist. She could feel the air on her back as a dagger flashed, mere inches from her flesh. 

Stepping through the rip was a spindly figure. Their body was wrapped in tight leather armor, stained as dark as shadow with a single red sash braided into the gauntlets. Their head and face were concealed behind a black mask that covered all but their eyes, which gleamed with anger. Vysk didn’t stop to consider the implications of the assassin’s presence as she launched into action, unclipping and hurdling an ax at her attacker with one smooth movement. To her surprise, the assassin simply ducked under the projectile and launched themselves at her with reckless abandon. The blow might have landed, were it not for the fully grown hippogriff that shoulder checked the stranger mid air, sending them flying across the tent. 

The ax reappeared on Vysk’s belt in the same moment that the assassin rolled, smoothly regaining their feet. For a moment, they both stood frozen, each sizing the other up, waiting for the next move in the dance. A blur of feathers shot past Vysk as Jester flashed past, beak open in a scream of rage. The assassin dipped under the hippogriff’s gnashing beak, slamming their dagger home into the creature’s shoulder. Jester took the blow without comment, instead using his momentum to carry him into his opponent, knocking them clear of their feet. As they fell, they tried to roll again, coming up right into the path of Vysk’s ax.

There was nowhere to go. With a sickening crunch, the ax buried itself into the assassin’s neck, dropping them on the spot. The entire encounter had lasted little more than six seconds from the first blow to the last. Even then, Vysk collapsed into a nearby chair, hand pressed against her chest as adrenaline surged through her body. Her backside had hardly hit the chair before she was buried in a mound of feathers and fur.

“I’m okay buds,” She rasped. “I’m okay. Let me see that shoulder alright?”

“Knight Commander!” The half armored form of Irabeth surged into her tent, sword drawn. “We heard a commotion. Is everything alright?” 

Vysk waved her off. “There was an attack. I’m okay.” She said, forcing her voice to remain steady. “My attacker however.” 

Irabeth’s eyes landed on the body, slowly seeping blood onto the ground. She nodded. “I am glad you are unharmed. Anviea is performing a sweep of the camp, I will remain here until we are certain there are no more.”

“Thank you.” 

Irabeth nodded, stalking over to the body, sword still drawn. The frown on her face only grew deeper as she leaned over it. 

“This is no cultist. I do not recognize these markings, unless it is a sect we have not seen before.” 

“I doubt it.” Vysk replied, forcing herself to stand. She carefully picked her way over to the body, grimacing at the odd angle of the broken neck and scattered limbs. Irabeth pulled back the assassin’s mask, revealing the face of a young human woman with short cropped hair. Vysk leaned closer, slowly unthreading the red sash from one of the woman’s gauntlets. As she suspected, it held a small icon of a crown and anchor, etched in gold. 

“It seems even here, at the end of the world, I cannot escape the Red Queen’s assassins.” She muttered. Irabeth gave her a concerned glance. 

“Commander?” 

Vysk waved her off. “I’m sorry, Captain. I have not been the most forthcoming with you, I hope that you can forgive me for that. Would you be so kind as to summon your darling wife and my advisors? It’s time I told you about my home.”

[tsams-au-confessions]

Random thing that popped up into my head while I was heading home from College.

I don’t know whether or not to consider this a swap AU or a shuffle AU. Unlike Fletcher’s bird, I don’t think I’m gonna build on this one (especially because I already have a swap shuffle AU)

I’m just gonna say the places some of the animatronics take care because I feel like it’s gonna be easier to explain my train of thought

Moon takes suns place

Lunar takes moon’s place

Eclipse takes lunar’s place

Sun takes eclipses place.

If I ever do build on it, it’s probably gonna be to figure out the next set of four swapped around, because the only thing I have right now is blood moon taking earth position solely so the siblings all themed after eclipses can have a healthy relationship because I am a sucker for that (fun fact, lunar eclipses are also called blood moons)

🌙☀️

...*cutely takes your au for myself* thank youuuuu /silly + pos

[el1-z4]

To balance out the universe I finally got round to drawing these steampunk lesbians.

Specifically, Edith and Amelia - who've been dating for about 5 years now.

Edith is a locksmith by trade, but has a knack for making things that hopefully dont explode. She comes from a loooong heritage of victorian* inventors and scientists, meaning she grew up with huge expectations from her family. However as she got older, she began slowly distancing herself from her family due to these expectations, finding work and accommodation on the outskirts of West Hameshire.

*Victorian refers to the planet of Victoric, an incredibly old and highly culturally conservative system. This is still Arcania lol

Amelia, however, has a much, much more interesting history. The Faxiath Coalition, in recent years, has been experimenting with dimensional rift technology in order to probe the physics and workings of alternate realities. In one incident, they opened a small gateway between the lab on Ilquar and an alternate version of Earth - year 2034. This earth saw many major 20th century powers have their ideologies swapped; the EU leading the modern world in alliance with the United States of Ataria - up against the formerly communist American Federation.

Amelia, born in 2005 was born in Lyon, France, to her Scottish/French parents. She spent a good amount of her life in both countries, but eventually moved permanently to Berlin when she was 23. However, when she was 28, one morning she walked putside to find the fabric of reality around her collapsing.

In an instant, it felt like every part of her was on fire as she was flashbanged by a bright white/violet light. Just as suddenly she found herself on a precariously balanced platform at the center of what looked like a giant particle collider; scientists racing behind windows around her. Before she knew it, someone over the PA, speaking what she could only decipher as German dialect with a strange accent, asked her who she was and if she was alright. She could sort of understand it, but she could only nod or shake her head to whatever questions they asked her.

Finally, someone walked over a catwalk and outstretched an arm to her. She was pulled over by the wrist and shuffled into one of the side offices. The scientists knew they fucked up - and it was no better that the gateway was basically permanently shut.

She was given a warm drink by one of the lead scientists, and they started asking her questions once again. Her first words were, in German, "My german isnt very good... do you speak french or english..?" thinking full well she was just inside some lab still in europe, except with weird symbols on the walls and dials. Alas, she wasnt. The scientist, asked her if she spoke Atlantean or Basic - and she returned a confused look. She guessed basic and the scientist started speaking in what she knew as english. The scientist, realizing whats gone on, broke the unfortunate news to her.

Everything and everyone she knew was gone. She was in an entirely different universe with no statistically possible way home. Amelia was incredibly distraught - feeling like she was just in some kind of bad dream or that it was all an elaborate prank. But, that came crashing down the longer the scientist kept talking. Strangely enough she didnt cry at all; I don't think she knew how to interpret anything at the moment.

She spent the next few days at the lab, slowly trying to come to terms with her new situation. After a while, she was approached by another scientist who told her she couldnt stay for much longer, but they could relocate her to another planet. She was both nervous and excited at the possibility of being in space, let alone travelling to another planet - though I guess she's already on one of those.

She was relocated to victoric, as the scientists felt it best for her to go somewhere that would guarantee her safety from the news and, more importantly, somewhere they felt would feel a little more homely - technology wise. Amelia felt, admittedly, a little insulted that they thought the closest match to her time was electricity-less steampunkery, but she felt like it'd do.

Fast forward a few months, and shes living/working in a bed and breakfast outside of West Hameshire. She's getting on rather nicely, even if the trauma of reality occasionally creeps back up on her in horrific panic attacks. Except one day, this locksmith came over, whos apparently quite a regular -fixing the doors on the rooms, and goddamn she was pretty.

Anyways yeah its pretty easy to say where they went from there. They started going out about two weeks after first meeting - and they've been inseparable ever since.

As of present day, Amelia moved out of the Bed and Breakfast and moved in with Edith - though she still works there. They're really quite comfortable with where they are in life, with aspirations to see the galaxies and everything in it (Amelia's really interested in visiting the Lordean system, as well as Atlatic). Edith on the other hand, is much more interested in finally asking Amelia to marry her... if she could ever work up the impossible levels of confidence needed for it.

[goingferalapparently]

canon vld has the lion swap. this group plays the lion shuffle every single day as they try to figure it out.

except for etoiles of course - caring, kind, putting needs of others before his own, mighty heart, will lift the team up and hold them together as the left leg of voltron - he's perfect for the yellow lion, and yellow has already chosen.

jaiden may or may not have pulled some information out of a databank and started reading off the characteristics. look, it's the best they've got while roier tries to learn to identify quintessence and match it with the humans, okay? (quintessence is, unfortunately, not roier's strength. he's also learning about it from the databanks - which are good, but skills are always hard to learn from just reading, you know?)

but even the databank of lion pilot characteristics doesn't help them too much.

figuring out the decisive head of voltron is horrible (the black lion, born leader, in control, men will follow without hesitation) because it's supposed to be decisive but all of them are leaders in their own way, taking charge and solving disputes and altogether just.. being leaders.

if the black lion is bad, then the red lion is almost worse, because no one seems to wear instinct over skill, spur-of-the-moment decisions, or the specific balance of patience and stubbornness needed to work with red's temperament. it doesn't help that there's no clear leader, and so no clear right-hand man for the leader.

baghera fits right at home in the green lion ("Inquisitive... Uh, intelligent? Daring-" Jaiden pauses, squinting at the words for a little too long. "I think the Castleship's databanks have been corrupted by something."), but cellbit, too, fits in there nicely.

and the blue lion, jaiden reads out slowly, parsing through corrupted data. the blue lion holds the team together and provides what's needed at the time. which is, of course, absolutely no help at all, because what they need is a complete voltron.

so, really, all they have narrowed it down to is "forever is probably not the pilot for the green lion"

("Are we even sure they're all meant to be paladins?" Jaiden asks one day, even though they both know the answer to that. Roier laughs and goes back to meditating upon the quintessence like he has been for the past phoeb.)

either way, they go through the training exercises, learn how to use weaponry, and all the other things needed to prepare for war. etoiles learns how to fly a spaceship, which is very important because yellow is the only lion available and the only spaceship that can retrieve the other lions (because the lions are heavy, okay??)

the green lion is found first, pieced together from the last communication pings from 10000 decaphoebs ago. green is on a forest-like planet, buried under a pyramid, and they apologise to the natives at every step when yellow has to deconstruct the monument hiding green.

the blue lion is found next, buried under layers and layers of sand and plant life in an ocean planet. it was very, very troublesome to work through.

getting the red lion (lost to the empire) is too much of a risk, they all decide, after seeing how yellow struggled to get the other two lions.

and because they can't get red, the doors to black remain sealed shut.

they are also still one paladin short. the humans raise the possibility of finding someone else (from earth, please). the alteans say that the lions must have had a plan in mind when yellow brought 4 humans and only 4 to the castleship.

once they get green and blue, they essentially go through the equivalent of throwing paladins at the two lions that they do have and hoping that one will stick. green chooses baghera. blue remains stubbornly unyielding to either cellbit or forever. ("Maybe Forever?" Jaiden asks Blue. "Cellbit doesn't quite feel right for you." Blue does not quite agree, but gives an approving purr.)

[atherflame-theconcubus]

Ok, so I’ve had multiple sun and moon show, alternate universes rolling through my head, but one that’s recently just been rotting in my brain is my own take on a swap au that I’ve been calling swap shuffle.

It has a pretty similar plot line to the sun and moon show, however, there’s some important differences stemming from the fact that eclipse managed to figure out, alternate universes exist via finding out about the canon show. He struggled to catch up with the whole show, but he managed to, this leads to certain events playing out differently, such as they’re being a much shorter time with the timeout box & eclipse telling lunar in a panic that if they leave sun alone, there is a high likelihood that moon is going to kill sun (it’s still happens, but lunar eclipse get there, just after it happens)

I’m currently gonna go over who takes whose place within this universe, because while not, everyone has been figured out, yet, a good amount have

Eclipse takes moon’s place, & while not being the best brother, he does try to make it up to lunar. The fact he has seen the cannon show has allowed him to avoid a few mistakes (such as not telling lunar about the bit of kill code earlier on) but also leads to new issues & changes certain situations (Sun being blown up).

Lunar takes sun’s place in the au, he’s still short, but he’s much taller than he’s ever been in the show. They also has a tendency to not fully listen/take things seriously (how the moon situation got as bad as it had). Their July 16th happened on November 16th, so lunar usually gets very quiet on the days leading up to the anniversary of a massacre.

Sun takes lunar’s place, & has had a few panic attacks remembering October, though he usually gets help getting through these ptsd induced episodes thanks to his family. For a while Sun had the same issue lunar had of putting his trauma on a pedestal, though that was before he jumped universes. He managed to meet some alternate versions of others that (in sun’s words) “suffered more than I have”

Moon takes eclipse’s place, & he’s a bit more toned down than eclipse. He does attempt to have his abuse towards his younger brother be much more subtle (the best way I can describe. It is a lot of praise that slowly becomes less and less) which slowly turned more physical over the course of their takeover. Moon is also responsible for the creation of Ruin, who was finished on November 15th, & activated the next day

Jack-o-moon & solar flare swap places, I don’t have much to say about them yet though. I’m still working everything out for them

Chica takes Monty’s place, though she’s not really into scamming. She does run a fitness program that she swears by though. She’s one of the smartest animatronics in the plex (behind eclipse by a while) but she’s way too trusting & empathetic for her own good, even when her gut tells her otherwise.

(I don’t really know much about the other shows, but Monty takes Chica’s place, Roxanne and Freddie swap places, along with foxy & glamrock bonnie)

(Update: in lew of a recent realization, the puppet and golden Freddy are being swapped. I genuinely thought both of them were gods. Only one is.)

Old eclipse takes Nexus's place. I’m still figuring out everything for him, but during Eclipse's spiral, old eclipse woke up & was immediately hit with whatever dark lunar put in them, essentially sacrificing himself to keep everyone safe as his last act of self. once under the new code, he starts trying to forcibly take control, ending with Golden Freddy using magic to separate the two & launch Old Eclipse into space. it was at that moment that the Old Eclipse was forever lost to the violent code.

Shuffle time!

Earth takes the place of kc, & she takes a more manipulative mother approach to her two sons when she claims them, not playing favorites, though she does have one. When she was in eclipse’s mindscape, she made it look like an overgrown meadow, using vines to freak eclipse & sun out. While she does eventually agree to a life of peace, it didn’t change her general behaviors and thoughts about ruin & moon, with her actively making it difficult for lunar & eclipse to figure out Commet powers. As well as making her death more realistic

Ruin takes the place of bloodmoon, though he lacks a twin. He generally is unhinged, but ironically hates killing, calling it a chore. He developed his sadistic nature with his hunting to make it entertaining for him, as he’d rather toy with others than kill them (he has a bloodlust, but he despises the taste of blood) when revived by kc, he knew something was off, but played along. Unlike the cannon blood twins, ruin regrets November 16th, stating that he didn’t enjoy the screams of the children while they were dying, & that the children were too weak.

KC takes ruin’s place, & though I don’t have much of an idea for him yet, at least, while infected, I do know that him uninfected is much nicer than he was while infected, though he still isn’t really friendly. He does wish to try fixing his relationship with ruin, as infected KC viewed him as a tool which cured KC thinks theirs a lot more that everyone is missing.

The blood twins take the place of earth, and while they are neutral, they do have their biases, which leads to some disagreement between them & others. The twins are really calm, with the younger twin being extremely calm. An interesting thing is that the creator of this universe only intended for the older twin to exist, but conditions were just right that bloody & harvest developed as two sentient ai, with harvest hiding his existence as he wasn’t supposed too exist. Bloody is closer to eclipse while harvest is closer to lunar.

Francis and Frank are swapped. I don’t know much about these two in Cannon so it’ll be fun to work with them

I’ll go over others like good moon at a later date as this post is getting long, so here’s some fun facts.

Lunar is the eldest brother in the daycare family, with harvest being the youngest

Harvest & Chica end up having a romantic relationship that’s more of a slow burn figuring things out than cannon Monty x earth.

Eclipse helps bloody realize he’s aroace.

Sun has a plushie empire & hyperfixates on them

Ruin has a tea adiction, even if his systems force him to throw it up if it doesn’t have blood in it (90% of the time it’s blood free)

Eclipse has anger issues he’s been seeing a therapist for

Bloody & harvest are more like emotional support dogs than therapist siblings.

Bloody & harvest have their own unique hairstyles (harvest’s is a long braid while bloody’s is a shoulder bob). when combined both hairstyles are visible at once

In the lord moon universe, sun is held captive in a tower, earth has grown to actually regret her parenting decisions & genuinely misses ruin (she’s the landscaper) & jack is the bitter gaurd. Eclipse and a group of citizens & survivors from moon grabbing the commet are planning a rebellion against moon. Lunar is the servant their

Earth subtly favored moon over ruin, as he was the one to activate her. That & ruins hatred of killing pushed moon into her favorites, though she never openly showed it

KC has been caught trying to fix the balloon world arcade cabinet, and only the balloon world arcade cabinet

Eclipse usually uses the nickname radiant when traveling universes. He doesn’t know why, but he assumes it’s because he likes the sound of it.

Sun isn’t resurrected with Commet powers, but he does teach himself magic for defense was resurrected by puppet, who’s now training him

Old eclipse changes his name to Araceli

Araceli's last moment he was himself was during endgame, where Eclipse was begging Chickpea & golden to do something to stop him

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Hypothetical:

If you were to take your OC/CC couples and shuffle them around, who would be the crack pair? Who would be the obvious enemies to lovers pairing? And who would be the surprisingly lovey dovey pair?

TK!! Welcome welcome!!

Let me offer you some breakfast!!

NOW. ONTO YOUR ASK.

This is truly an interesting question, that actually gave me pause to think! 🤔🤔🤔🤔

Let me give you my insight!

Crack Pairing

I actually have two! One is Jacob/Antoine and the other is Arno/Dorothea. Like, in Jacob and Antoine's case, I just imagine that he would get SO MUCH on her nerves with his shenanigans, she would just push him in the Seine and not even turn back, if she didn't try to strangle him first. Like, his charm would be completely wasted on her because she is definitely not that impressionable, and I think he would not like the cold, unrelenting, scheming side of her personality and character She would be too stiff, too unforgiving for him to actually like her. So I see them mostly being at each other's throats. As for Arno and Dorothea, I just do not see them as a couple at all, like 0 attraction to one another (also, tbh, I am a fervent believer that Arno prefers brunettes over blondes). At most they could be the type of friends that swap wardrobe and be there for each other, platonical in all the way, but a couple?? NAH. NEVER. Like, I just cannot see them together at all. No chemistry at all.

Enemies to Lovers

mmmm this one was tricky, to be honest. Like the only one that are canonically enemies to lover are Jacob and Dottie, in virtue of the sides they both are on. But if I were to shuffle all my pairings and find another Enemies to Lovers couple, that would probably be Shay and Antoine: like, fiercest couple could never grace the Earth, because dear gods, those two are truly two bastards that have found one another and that UNDERSTAND one another but are on the opposite side of a war that neither can hope to win, and both are too stubborn to relent.Basically it's "Enemy Mine" type of situation, and omg the fact that they would hunt each other down and make that their life's purpose (plus Antoine, apparently, truly fancies men that are older than her and this speaks volumes about the crapton of daddy issues she has) (also, wtf, TK, what have you done, you have managed to instigate my crickets and now they are all going crazy over this idea, oh dear Gods, I need to explore it around.).

Lovey Dovey Pair

Omg this one actually gave me pause, but one lovey-dovey pair would be Colette and Ezio. Like, those two together strike me as a couple that would go full-on "lovey-dovey", with their passion, lust for life (and not only life), so intensely in love with one another that they would be the desperation of Federico, Mathias, and Antoine (like, seriously. Antoine would drag Mathias with her on Florence's rooftops and give a run to the guards that are also looking for Ezio. Like, if Antoine had a problem with Arno and kept him "in check", never to ever destroy her sister's heart, with Ezio it would be 10 times worse.

thank you for bringing this question to me, it was DEFINITELY intriguing and lots of fun to think about.

--Nemo

[crawlingbetweenearthandheaven]

guising; halloween, 2006

Kendall is starting to come back down to normality, and it's Halloween, and they are American tourists in Yorkshire. on the ao3 here or below

“Well,” Kendall says, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket, “this feels pointed.” He breathes in and out deeply, like the doctor has told him to do. The house is dark and darkening as the clock creeps onwards. “I fucking hate when the clocks change.” He lights a cigarette and catches his finger on the flame.

Stewy looks at him from where he is doing makeup in the mirror. “Dude, it’s the most appropriate costume in the world. Even if the Brits don’t really do Halloween, and you’re chemically lobotomised –“

“It’s just the lithium,” Shiv tells Stewy, like he hasn’t read all the leaflets since the doctor left them all on the kitchen table and sat in the computer room until his head hurt reading miserable blogposts from poor people about their BIPOLAR HELL and reading about Byron and van Gogh and sobering-if-boring articles on suicide statistics and lithium toxicity and addiction issues and endless fucking misery. His eyes flicker to her, dressed in a red shirt and blue pinafore dress. She shows them what she has in her hands. “I could only find a cricket bat here, so – “

Roman snatches the cricket bat, gives her the axe he’s holding. “Let’s swap,” he says. “You’re way more likely to damage your kid or go insane and start seeing shit and –“

“I’m the one most likely to do that,” Kendall says, and it should be but he can’t bring himself to actually laugh. His siblings just look at each other as if he’s still manic, even if the lithium has brought him back to earth with a horrible lurching feeling and he’s so tired he feels rooted to the floor half the time. “Fuck, I must be crazy if Stewy’s talked me into this,” he tells his feet, shuffling them slightly.

“Vampires are the most appropriate costume for Stewy because he is the Vampire of Wall Street,” Roman says. He boggles his eyes. “Now I look the part,” he announces.

“I’m in private equity,” Stewy says.

Shiv snorts. “Same thing, isn’t it?”

Kendall looks in the mirror. He looks pale and bloated, like a corpse that has been in the water for three days. His eyes are bloodshot and his hands are shaking, but he’s wearing a black cape fashioned from a curtain.

“Where’s Connor?” he says, looking around. “He’s got my next dose, which I still think is fucking stupid and I can be trusted with all my meds and there’s no point in dressing up anyway because the Brits don’t do it and we’re not in college anymore and I don’t want to waste my time – “

“Kendall,” Stewy says, handing him a pair of plastic vampire teeth. “You’ve spent the past few weeks terrifying the life out of us. It’s our turn, don’t you think?”

Kendall shoves the teeth into his mouth too hard and his lip starts bleeding; he starts to worry at it with his tongue and his teeth until the blood runs down his chin. He watches it in the mirror, until Roman notices.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Roman says, and goes in search of a towel. They hear him muttering to himself about lunatics and idiot brothers and several homophobic slurs whispered too low to quite catch. Shiv starts to paint exaggerated eyelashes under her eyes. Stewy looks at Kendall in the mirror until he makes eye contact.

“You know I hate dressing up,” Connor says as he rounds the corner, tread heavy on the stairs. “You are all children –“ and he walks in and he is wearing his normal clothes. “I’m being Conor Roy,” he tells them, but he is trying not to smirk. "I am mentioned on Dad's Wikipedia page, you know. So I am notable - " Shiv rolls her eyes as if she has been practicing.

Roman walks back in with a teatowel, and scrubs too hard at Kendall’s chin. He licks his finger and rubs at the blood. “Is that weird?” he asks, pausing. “I saw it in a movie once,” and Kendall shrugs and shakes his head and tries to smile but feels hollow. He keeps thinking of all the empty shells that wash up at the seashore after a storm.

“What would Dad dress up as? He’d probably call it guising or something Scottish. Mum would say it’s a vulgar American import, right? Like watching television in bed or laughing at mealtimes,” Roman says, waving the cricket bat around his head.

“Dad would be the vampire,” Shiv says, and then laughs. “No, Dad would be fucking – that horrible painting with Saturn eating his son? Roman got obsessed with it last year when we got dragged round every gallery in Madrid.” She mimes a few times.

“As the art expert – “ Connor begins, but Kendall tries to laugh and makes a weird gasping sound instead until Connor shrugs and says something about Kendall’s “newfound admiration for the visual arts”.

As if Connor has not spoken, Shiv keeps talking. "He painted it on the wall of his house, remember? That's some Kendall shit right there. The crazy stuff. Spanish Inquisition - "

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" Connor interrupts, looking delighted.

"Fucking dork," Roman mutters under his breath. "I can see Dad being that painting, but only accidentally. Like oh, he just happened to accidentally acquire everything that mattered to a business venture, steamroll in with his name and his money, wreck it all - "

"He did do that accidentally," Connor says. "He told me, he had no choice but to buy in, because of the markets -"

Stewy closes his eyes for a second. “Going back to paintings, specifically Kendall's new one. Did we decide what to do about that? Does your dad know?” He takes several long sips from the whisky in his hand, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Kendall.

For the first time in a little while, Kendall feels slightly turned on. He sniffs, wishes he had some water or vodka or wine. “He said it was fine and his guys will sort it and he’s glad I’ve got my head, uh, straightened out.”

“Does he know about you and Stewy? I – I still think it’s great, you guys,” Connor adds hastily, watching Kendall watching Stewy’s throat move as he swallows.

“He knows everything in a sort of five-eyes Bill-Gates fucking… KGB type way,” Roman says. “But he’s not mentioned it. I guess he might be waiting until he needs to use it,” he muses. He has put down the cricket bat and is drinking neat vodka.

“If he knew, I think he’d get one of his guys to talk me into killing myself,” Kendall says quietly. The truth of the words soaks into him and he feels hot and cold all at once. Stewy reaches out and takes his hand.

[thebonesofhoudini]

Here is last night’s episode of my show. All I’m gonna say is....I’m BACK! 128 BPM in effect.

Tracklist

L Swift - Daydreamin' (Instrumental)

Szs - Monochromatic

Fabø - Redsposition

Duke Boara - Into The Blue

Dadou - Bohm

Sakdat & Balaur - Tadaima

Mihai Pol - Remote

Christopher Ledger - Swap Function

ARDB - Overtones (Silverlining Remix)

Alsi - The Light

Baban - Days Are Numbered

Mihai Popoviciu - Premium

Staniz - Abstract 9

Zeleke - HWLSD55.1

R107 - Sense Of Nostalgia

MOOR - Sable

Preesh - Grassvoices

Neuronphase - By Myself

Genius Of Time - Taurindo Shuffle

JNJS - Grey Room

Aubrey - Adult Supervision

Sterac - Looking Down To Earth (While Sitting On Clouds)

Condensation

[aaronisanauthor]

Still, Silent, and Cool

Here's some more of my writing and another piece from my swap with my friend Michael. This piece inspired the art that is currently my profile picture, enjoy.

--

The forest appeared three days ago, still, silent, and cool. The trees are dense, tightly packed together like cigarettes in a carton. They are deep green, needle-heavy, their bark worn and lined as the face of an old man. The earth it sprouts from is loamy and black, with a fine carpet of moss and lesser plants springing forth like children playing around their feet. It is dark beneath the trees. Dark, and cool, and quiet. I know this, though I have never set foot beneath the canopy. We can all tell, simply by looking at it, that the forest is twilit and chill and so, so quiet. There are no animals in the forest. I don’t know how I know that either.

The borders of the forest are easy to see, of course. There is a stark, final line of those ancient green giants, and then the ground abruptly becomes sand once again. There are no forests in the Sahara. Or there weren’t, until three days ago.

We found it in the morning, as the sun shone down on its strange, incongruous greenness. How could we not have seen it? A forest is not a subtle thing, nor one that hides easily. We knew it had not been there when we lay down to rest the night before, we all agreed. But we also had to agree that it was there now. Heat can play strange tricks on the eyes, but this was not the sun causing us to see what was not there. This was the sun causing us to see what was there. And what was there was a forest. And that was impossible.

We investigated, of course. Despite the impossibility, despite the strange peace shot through with creeping dread that looking at it filled us with, we approached. Curious. Most of us had never seen a forest before, and likely would never get another chance. So we came, in groups large and small, to stand before the edge and peer into the darkness. Our eyes could not pierce it deeply, merely scratching shallow cuts into its green skin. We saw the trees marching into the gloom, and felt like children amidst a gathering of adults, a sea of legs unfolding before us, the ground between them greened by strange plants with broad, veined leaves dotted with occasional flowers, bright red and burning. We did not know the sounds a forest should make, the hissing thrum and shuffling call, the sound of bough and branch rocking in the wind. We did not know the forest’s silence was wrong, except in the pit of our guts, where dread finds its home.

The first to cross its threshold was Atsu, who was old enough to be full-grown but young enough to be impetuous. In the past, that had led his parents, and those others who kept order in our home, to let him have his way, simply because it was easier than trying to fight him. We all knew he would wish to step beneath the forest’s spreading canopy, and so he was given their blessing to do so, to explore and discover on our behalf, rather than merely to serve his own whim. He did not come back, of course. We were not surprised, though our lack of shock took us off guard. We accepted it from the moment he crossed the line from sand to soil, I think. We knew, knew in the same gut-deep dread the forest inspired within us, that Atsu was not coming back.

We knew it, but we did not accept it, and plans were made to find him, to send more beneath the boughs to recover the one we had lost. A party was assembled, six who volunteered to make the journey. Some of them made the choice with courage, some with curiosity, some with resolve. One, with fear, and tears in his eyes. We watched them cross into the forest’s lands, and we waited for them to return. As the sun set and rose again, we waited, and when a lone woman stumbled free from the forest’s clutching embrace as the sky reddened with sunset for the second time, we were not surprised, though our voices shouted fear and alarm and concern.

We took her back to her home and made her comfortable, all the time plying her with questions of the first we had lost and the five who had not returned with her. She did not answer us, her teeth cleaved tight together, her hands twitching and hidden beneath her clothes, now muddied and torn, what skin we could see marred by scratches, though no blood-stained skin or cloth. She did not give us any answers until she died, a day later. When her jaw finally fell open in death, her lack of tongue told us exactly why she would not speak of what had happened. Even still, it did not explain what had happened to her hands.

After that, we did not make any more plans to send our people into the forest.

That does not mean they were the last to enter it.

They left in the night or in the gaps in the day when heat and labor left us tired and unaware. Alone, most often, though occasionally in pairs or groups, they went. And they did not come back. Sometimes they left notes, explained that they needed to find their mother or brother, or simply needed to satisfy their burning curiosity, but those were rare, and unnecessary. We did not need to read the lies they used to justify the way their steps strode forward, unavoidably, towards that shadowed embrace. We all felt it. The pull, the dark and the quiet tugging us gently toward it. The desire to enter the forest. One part curiosity, one part temptation, one part fear. We felt it, but most of us turned our backs to the wood and said we did not, chanting it loud in our minds until we could almost believe it was true. And those were the smart ones, because they never set foot beneath the branches, never accepted the forest’s silent invitation.

I wish I had been so strong. But it wore me down. And I needed to know.

When I left my home in the dark of night I was alone, but by the time I reached the boundary of sand and greenery I had been joined by Pili, a girl my age who I knew as a face and a name and little else. We did not look at each other as we stood there, our feet inches away from the deep earth that cradled the trees’ roots. We looked at the forest. We listened. We feared.

It was dark, that night. There was no moon, and the stars were muted and dim behind thin clouds, but it was darker still beneath the forest’s canopy. It was thick, the darkness. Pressing against my eyes, hiding whatever secrets the forest hid. It cradled my head, muting the sounds of wind and sand and filling my ears with the held breath of the woods, the expectation thick and syrupy. I think I was crying, but my body felt distant, and I could not feel the heat of my tears through the cooling balm of the forest on my skin.

Beside me, Pili lifted a single foot and crossed the threshold. Taking shaking steps, she moved deeper and deeper, weaving between the trees like a needle through cloth. She disappeared from my view too quickly. Swallowed by the darkness.

I raised my own foot to step beneath the forest’s spreading arms and wished, for a moment, that I had left a note. Told my mother and father I was sorry. At least they would know what happened, I thought. I had seen their eyes linger on the forest and its proffered shade. Seen the way they struggled to turn their heads away. They would know why their son had left and not come back.

My foot came down.

On sand.

It happened in the time it took to blink my eyes, the moment between dreaming and waking. The night was brighter than it was moments before, alive with sound and heat and life. I could hear the wind cooling my wet cheeks, feel the brush of cloth against my rapidly heaving chest, could see the dunes rising and falling and rising into the distance before me.

The forest was gone.

And I went home.

I have not told my mother and father that I was there, that I saw it leave. To know how close they came to losing me would be cruel, I think. I have not told Pili’s father how close he came to keeping his daughter, that if she had only waited till my will broke, that our roles would have been reversed and he would have his daughter.

I know why the forest left. It is a simple reason, and it is a final secret I will not share with another, not burden them with it.

It left for the same reason any predator leaves. Because it was satisfied. Full.

I will not tell anyone this. I will keep it as my burden, though part of me wonders why I bother. 

After all, we all already know.

We’ve known all along.