#flirting shenanigans

[cyberrat]

66th Batch Of Fics: 11th Fill

Bruce/Jason – cont B65F13 – Part 3/? – Bruce is just immediately sussed out but doesn't know about it.

---

Jason has sat up abruptly once he’s scrolled through B’s virtually non-existent bio and noticed the first picture. By now he is sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, feeling queasy in a weirdly good way as he wonders for how stupid Bruce takes him for.

Had he thought he wouldn’t notice the stupid marble counter he’s got in his bathrooms all over the manor? Or had he thought he wouldn’t notice just how perfectly toned his abs were?

Had he thought Jason would not recognize every single goddamn scar littering his body?!

“He thinks I’m an idiot,” he whispers again and again, his finger feeling a little shaky as he slowly scrolls through the pictures. Picture after picture of Bruce Wayne posing like a fuckboy and not even trying to hide the graying fur on his chest.

How, just… how?

“Did someone help you, you absolute disaster?” he whispers at the screen. “Did you make Alfred take horny pictures of you so you could do… whatever it is you’re doing right now?”

What is he trying to do? Spy on him? It’s not like Jason made a secret out of his account. It’s not like he’s… embarrassed or anything. He just elected to tell a very small circle of friends to which Bruce goshdarn Wayne did not belonged. So someone from that small circle-

It’s Barbara. Who is he even kidding? Barbara is the snitch because she’s been trying for ages now to get them together which is still weird and stuff.

And stuff, yeah. Yeah…

“Fuck, why’s he so hot?” he groans under his breath, curling his back even further until his head is almost between his knees. He tries not to hyperventilate or something, eyes fixed on the pictures he keeps scrolling through.

For someone so devastatingly brilliant, Bruce could be surprisingly dumb. Jason keeps rolling the question of why around in his head but the most apparent answer (he wants to… like… date) is something he doesn’t really want to consider.

Not like he hates him anymore… but they’ve had their differences, right? They butt heads more often than not, right? Ugh but he’s hot…

Jason has to admit that Bruce just is exactly what he’s looking for. Maybe staying at Wayne Manor in his formative years and seeing him in all kinds of compromising situations had left a mark on him. He’s not too proud to admit that. Could something be done about that now? Maybe. But he doesn’t want to.

“What is your angle?” he whispers at his phone, pausing at one picture that Bruce has most likely taken with a mirror because that infernal bullet hole Jason has pressed his hands against once to keep the guy from bleeding out goddamn it is on the wrong side.

Yeah, the longer he thinks about it, the more he feels offended that Bruce would think that he wouldn’t recognize him immediately.

Which does beg the question… maybe the person behind this profile isn’t Bruce at all, but Barbara.

Jason narrows his eyes and sits up straight again. He doesn’t feel quite as lightheaded anymore. He pulls up their chat and types out a message before he can chicken out.

The Hell is your problem? Do you think this is funny or something?

Hmmm? Whatever do you mean?

He narrows his eyes but starts to hesitate more. Maybe he’s barking up the wrong tree after all…?

That stupid profile. On the app. Bruce isn’t that dumb.

Oh wow he already contacted you? That was much faster than my predictions simulated.

Jason feels faint again so he curls over once more and types while blood rushes to his head: What????

I thought I’d give the both of you a little shove. Didn’t take much, but I didn’t anticipate it would. You’ve both been ogling each other for aaaages, it’s kind of cringey to watch at this point.

He is still staring at the text, brain not quite able to compute what just happened when she shoves a little ‘you’re welcome’ in at the end.

What am I supposed to do now?! He’s got pictures on there!

Let me see.

Jason gets up and starts to power walk through his apartment. Since it isn’t that big, the walking doesn’t satisfy him the way he wants it to. He feels nervous, but… good nervous. He keeps re-reading Barbara’s text. Had they been ogling each other? Well he knows that he ogled Bruce, but the other way around? Ugh this is all just so weird.

Finally, Barbara texts him again.

Oh wow. He went all out. I didn’t think the old man had it in him.

They’re borderline erotic, Barbara. What do I do?!

Whatever you want, I think? The ball is in your court. I think he didn’t expect you to immediately suss him out. Either tell him you know it’s him, or don’t. Or don’t contact him at all.

It’s up to you.

He hates that she is right. It is up to him at this point. His instinct is to immediately reply and let him know he’s been found out but thankfully he halts himself before he can do anything stupid.

He grabs his jacket and his helmet and heads down to the garage. If he needs to think, a leisurely ride on his bike is just what the doctor ordered.

He drives out of Gotham and into more of the countryside which is more of a ‘trip’ than he anticipated but the cool air is refreshing and lets him think much better than the cramped space of his apartment.

However, all his thinking comes down to one point over and over again: Honestly; why not have fun with it?

Jason has a habit of getting too much into his own head, he knows that better than anyone else. He shouldn’t overthink it. Especially because that could fuck everything up real quick.

He should just run with the whole thing and see where it goes. Suss out what Bruce is really after. Preferably before someone else finds his account and… contacts… him…

Fuck he hadn’t even thought about that possibility until now.

He just has to be the first. He just has to.

.oOo.

Bruce spends an agonizing day trying to pretend that he is not checking his phone every few minutes. He holes himself up in the Cave just so the others don’t have to witness his shameful display. What is he even waiting for? What does he hope will happen?

Ugh better not think about it. He’s turning into a pervy old man at this point… he’s not getting younger.

His depressing thoughts are thankfully cut off by the sound of his phone. He forces himself not to be too eager grabbing for it, instead slowly dragging his sweaty palms against his pants before reaching out.

He’s half convinced himself it is someone else, but no… there is a message from Jason.

Hey there. You matched me, right?

Innocent enough. So he’s interested, isn’t he? He has to be. Bruce groans softly and sits down. His knees have gone a little weak. When was the last time his knees had been weak?!

‘Stop being an idiot and just answer,’ he thinks to himself. He stares at the message a moment longer before years of idle chit-chat and flirting kick in and he replies: I did, yes. I found you very fascinating – and you got a nice bike.

#cyberratting writes stuff #bruce/jason #flirting shenanigans

[bluerosefox]

Invites

"OMA, kill meeeee" Ellie, aka Wrath complained as she allowed her head to 'thunk' on the cafeteria table in the Watchtower she phased into in order to sit in next to a boy dressed in red, yellow, and green.

"Aren't you already halfway there?" Came Robin's response as he took a drink of his water, eyeing his teammate with a raised eyebrow, though it was difficult to tell with his mask in place.

"OMA?" Asked Superboy on the other side of the boy.

"Shush you." She said towards Robin before answering Superboy "Oh my Ancients, it's like OMG but like for us ghosties."

"Tt" "Oh!" Came both their responses.

"So..." began Superboy after a few minutes of silence between them as he looked at Ellie like a confused puppy "Why?"

Ellie groaned and just stayed slumped on the table as she said "Da's dumb Observants council is hosting another dumb ball to try to get him or me hitched again, and like always I'm forced to attend because I'm Da's heir. We both hate it with a passion, most are just stuck up, power hungry, social climbers trying to get into our pants for the royal titles... Espcially if they become our Forevermores."

"Tt, why not just get rid of them? Or simply have your Father dismiss the ball." Robin said, his eye twitching in annoyance just at the thought of it. A ball sounded even more annoying than the gala parties he is made to go to.

"Sounds stressful... Also Forevermores?" Superboy asked, he was always curious of Ellie and her ghost culture but never knew what could be asked or not, he had been warned to never ask how a ghost died after all and that question is normally asked in every ghost hunter video on the internet.

"Forevermores is our term for the ONE. The one and only we will ever be with. Till our final end takes us we are always to be with them only. We are core creatures and bonding on that level is like sacred, we don't rush into bonding like that though. But everyone in the Realms hopes to be either become mine or Da's. And the ball is their best chance at meeting us on neutral grounds." Ellie explained as best as she could for Jon, it was hard trying to explain the type of level a Forevermore was "And to answer you Robin, Da can't. The Observants, despite how annoying they can get with their dumb demands, are part of the system council for the Realms, they're sadly needed to keep things in check hence their name. Da and his friends are still trying to find a loophole to get rid of them though. They were only created when they put Tyrant King to sleep and they still sadly have some backings from other powerful ghosts in the Realms, even an Ancient or two and in order to fully dismiss them we need all Ancients on board. And the ball keeps a lot of ghosts, especially the more powerful ones, errr I guess happy? Most just use it to gossip on neutral grounds, others just like to dance, network, or other junk like that. Basically, when it's not about them trying to get mine or Da's hand in ghost marriage, it's fun so Da can't dismiss it, it'll ruffle to many feathers."

"Wow..." "Tt." Were the response from her teammates.

"Yeah. Da really isn't happy because someone suggested inviting powerful people from a few Mortal Realms this time. Somehow it got approved. So... here." She said as she reached into her own chest, phasing her hand in, and pulled out two green envelopes and placed them on the table in front of them. Both boys stared in surprise to see their names written in dark purple ink and the stylized DP on it.

"CW let me invite you guys personally. Everyone else should be getting theirs in about a few minutes complete with a blaze of green fire and spooky vibes." Ellie said with a strained smile, both happy to invite them but also dreading the questions she'll no doubt have to answer once the invites were sent.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #crossover #dp x dc #blue rambles #danny phantom dc #writing ideas #random idea #dpxdc #dani phantom #danielle phantom #ghost king danny #princess dani #Ellie is Wrath in DC world #she joined Jon and Damian's team #everyone knows she the heir to the Infinite Realms #she is dreading the upcoming ball #she groans in annoyance when those around Danny's age take one look at him and decide to flirt #thats her Da stop flirting with him #is Danny a young adult like Jason's age or like Bruce's age idk? #either age frame works tbh #fyi this isnt my shenanigans idea it just spawned and woundnt let go

[l3viat8an]

MC: Kissing isn't enough anymore, I need you to bite me.

Simeon:……what?

MC: What?

#MC is trying to flirt believe it or not- #ro’s dumb stuff tag! #surprise it’s queue! #obey me! #obey me incorrect quotes #obey me shenanigans #obey me mc #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x mc #om! simeon #om! mc #om! incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #simmy <333 #om! #obey me shall we date #obey me shitpost #obey me crack #om! shall we date #obmswd simeon #obmswd mc #obmswd

[valyrfia]

rip lestappen gate 2023 you will be missed but i will say as a parting gift that i don't think charles would have this contract with these terms of a championship winning team built around him if not for him getting very cozy with red bull at the end of last season

#unfortunately him and max specifically might have just been plain flirting #but the weird PR shenanigans were definitely charles putting pressure on ferrari and it worked so congrats charles! #lestappen gate 2023 #charles leclerc #scuderia ferrari #lestappen #lestappen gate 2024

[spaciebabie]

Part 2

Start / Part 2 (you're here!) / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Aftermath

yeah sun you totally,,,,had absolutely nowhere else you could hide,,,,almost like,,,,you did this on purpose,,,,,,

#another trope i like: smooshed up against the person u fancy in a confined space #shenanigans: ensue #uuoug #fnaf sb #fnaf #five nights at freddy’s #security breach #sundrop #fnaf sun #sun fnaf #y/n #daycare attendent #sun x reader #sun x y/n #sun x you #i looked at multiple vids of the daycare ta see if there was a master hiding spot n i think the one i picked was pretty swaggy #sun you're too damn big for the playground! #i think that sun n moon would both get in your space a lot #no concept of personal space so if that stuff flusters u (like me) then good luck #get ready for.....flirting and.....BUILDUP #gweeheehee! #spacie scribbles

[bugaboooooooooo]

ladrien but marinette doesnt know that ADRIEN knows shes ladybug

#im thinking that chat and ladybug switch miraculouses once in a while for Fun (mostly bc marinette wants an excuse to go FERAL) #and the public doesnt know that lady noire = ladybug but adrien obvs knows #and marinette sees this as a chance to flirt w adrien bc she thinks he doesnt Know but he does!!!!! #cue shenanigans :3 #ladrinoire is what im going to call this ship #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ml #miraculous #tales of ladybug and cat noir #les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #lady noire #ml fanart #my art #ladynoir #ladrien #ladrinoire #my posts

[ice-draco]

Arlecchino: Your smile? It makes my day.

Furina: Your happiness? I live for that.

Lynette: A room? Get one.

Lyney: Hotel? Trivago.

#they are tired of watching their father flirt lol #incorrect quotes #arlecchino x furina #arlefuri #Arlecchino #Furina #Lynette #Lyney #house of hearth shenanigans #genshin impact

[jichanxo]

grown man calls you his kitten in front of your friends, what do you do? (aka what happens when @four-white-trees and I have been very bad influences on each other)

#kuwagami #yagami takayuki #kuwana jin #lost judgment #judgment #judge eyes #takayuki yagami #jin kuwana #sugiura fumiya #kaito masaharu #jichanart #inspired by discord shenanigans #again #the idea of kuwana calling yagami his kitten with his whole damn chest was just too funny to pass up on #ESPECIALLY with an audience #because you just know this is going to be held over yagami's head forever #as soon as he thinks everyone's forgotten kaito snorts and says “kitten” and yagami cannot wish death upon kuwana harder #kuwana's shitty flirting is so real to me #and yagami hates that he's still in love with him. embarrassing #tbh i was planning to use the “go fuck yourself” for something in a fic but i couldn't think of another set up for my shitty kitten joke #so if you see me use that again no you didn't #personally my favourite parts of this are the kuwana in the first panel (cute) and the reaction shots at the end lol #yagami's face truly says “kys” and i wouldnt have it any other way #i've gotta get more familiar with comics and csp's tools because it's a bit rough around the edges but fun to make #and i also gotta draw catboy yagami tbh #sorry. had a lot of thoughts making this. #hope you like it kuwagami friends :D

[ignify-caligo]

[Training session @ 141 HQ]

König, watching Soap and Roach fight: Are you sure they should be fighting, lieutenant? What if they get hurt?

Ghost, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other.

König: Then… who’s the strongest out of you three?

Soap: Ghost.

Roach: Ghost.

Ghost: Me.

#call of duty incorrect quotes #incorrect call of duty quotes #könig #john soap mactavish #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #ghostroachsoap #john mactavish #gary sanderson #simon riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #caligo incorrect quotes 2 #all of the 141 have one thing in common- they flirt through fighting/training lmao /jk #in other words this is how the og trio be welcoming König into their world of cuddles & shenanigans

[auroramoon-draws16]

My friend convinced me to get into Star Wars

Send help

(Warning: SPOILERS and I’m not THAT into it, so correct where you see fit)

Assassin’s Creed x Star Wars

But the Brotherhood is an ancient af group, as old or older than the og Jedi order, they’re so secretive and mysterious that not even the modern order are sure they exist. Kind of like a spooky myth?

The Force be like: “Brotherhood? What Brotherhood? I didn’t help make any Brotherhood!” We love a bad gaslighting bitch 💜

I think they’d be force users who pretty much do as their original universe do: “We work in the Dark to serve the Light.” All the tenants included.

Their sabers are small af and more blade-like, sort of like the darkblade, but crystal clear and emits very little light, they barely make any noise too. (Phantom Sabers? Maybe? That sounds cool, right?) The Assassins got the white hoods and shit too. Omfg they can finally do the Leap of Faith wherever they want! Fuck gravity! We have the fucking force!

As for Eagle Vision, I think you could pass it off as a force ability. Being able to sense feelings and danger is a thing already, so being able to do a large sweep and tag friend/foe would be a step above that. Also treasures. Like the grabby lil dragons our Assassin babies are. They need to be able to fund shenanigans on the fly, and not all of them have time to grab some from their reserves!

As for their role in the main Star Wars story, we got options:

Shoving Desmond into this shit because I can~

Desmond and his Team™️ investigate the Clone Wars shit, because the Brotherhood has always been against oppression and have been systematically wiping out slavery from several parts of the galaxy for a while now, so they would automatically get suspicious. (Clones? Meant for fighting?? For an entire republic??? With no rights of their own???? Idk man, that sounds sus. Oh and the Jedi don’t have a choice because there’s a whole ass war and it would be against their code not to do anything about it? And there’s an order to kill literally all of them at a moment’s notice? Alright, guess we’ll fix this ourselves!)

Des and the crew find the chips and save the Jedi from mass genocide. Maybe killing Palpatine, because fuck that guy.

Would they need to reveal the Brotherhood’s existence to have that happen? Probably not, but it could happen. Boy, wouldn’t that be interesting?

Also, clone shenanigans, because I love them sm

Especially Bad Batch and Domino Squad

And Rex and Cody

My poor babies

But: if the Brotherhood was weakened like in their og universe and they couldn’t investigate (lets say they were compromised by the Sith for a while before the clone wars)

+ Des was born a bit later

Time to aid the rebellion and face destiny!

(If you REALLY want to throw Des into bullshit, like I know you do: Time travel fix it fic with Luke, Leia, Han, and Desmond!)

(You may also include Mandalorian fun, because I also love the Mandos, my other babies <3 Mandalorian culture goes hard and the fics that include them have kidnapped surprise adopted me)

Y’all have fun, I’m tired ^_^💜

#assassin's creed #desmond miles #star wars #the clone wars #the prequels #idk enough about this shit #i’m winging it #the force #force bullshit this time #time travel shenanigans #the mandalorian #someone write a fic #crossover motherfuckers #obi wan kenobi is hot #desmond go flirt with him #add him to the harem #do it

[revelisms]

Antichrist Copia theory has overtaken me yall. I was not expecting to crank out a full thing on this, but, uh...if you're looking for one big indulgent braindump on Terzo trying to unpack his feelings on this while Copia gets possessed by a demon, look no further?

Quick context setting—I'm still working out these headcanons a bit, but what I'm generally tinkering with here:

Everyone tied to the Emeritus bloodline has some degree of magical abilities, which were formally "awakened" in an oath-taking ceremony at a point in the boys' childhood. This is the Sight mentioned here (i.e., whatever is up with the white eye), and each of the brothers have a slightly different angle for it: Primo can see into the minds of living things, Secondo can see into the past, Terzo can see into the future, and Copia can see into the realm that bridges life and death—and is somewhat a literal bridge, himself, between those planes of reality.

The Exaltation ceremony is a formal handoff from each Papa to the next heir, in which their Sight is tapped to its greatest potential in preparation for becoming head of the church. This typically involves a delivery of rites, a magical blessing, and an opening of the Gate between worlds (which, in this context, is technically Hell itself).

Basically: mayhem ensues.

here we lie

4k words | Rating: M | Terzo-Centric | Antichrist Copia | CWs: Ritual magic, dark imagery, near-death experience, blood, language, existentialism, doomed fate, whump, anger issues, dysfunctional family dynamics, hurt/comfort. Also on AO3

The exaltation ceremony goes wrong.

By all accounts, it shouldn't have.

As with any long-standing traditions of the church, the ritual had been perfected to the scrape of dust one was allowed to wear on their boots—and, as such, had been prepared with the expected flurry of pomp and circumstance.

The esteemed Monsignor Emeritus, firstborn, blessed with the Sight, had cleansed the air thrice with dishes of althea and frankincense and bistort: enhancements for protection and divination. 

Sister Mariella, well-familiar with the customs, had laid down the sigils for the Gate flawlessly: shadowed by the slow-prowled growlings and page-turned rites of Secondo Emeritus, Archbishop of the Eternal Light.

The ceremony, as was custom, was set to be led by the head of the church: their Exalted, sheened in black from neck to toe, the points of his clawed gloves glinting in the lowlight—for whom the Sight of premonition had seemed both a blessing and a curse, and never more so than now.

He was distracted, perhaps. Dehydrated, maybe. Dreading the moment he would stand at the door to the realm beyond—a threshold of time and space untethered—that would soon devour the faceless flesh-form of a ghoul cast back to the shadow (his One, his All, his own); a door he himself, in time, would one day find himself crossing, with body and soul split, head and neck cleaved, heart and mind shattered.

From the moment he'd slopped a spoon through the breakfast his secretary had slid on his desk that morning, he'd known, instinctually, that this damned thing could turn so haywire, if only because he'd been the one shackled with it.

His jittery magic, his restless brain, and Copia—

Well. 

Copia has been anything but normal, from the day Sister carted him up the chapel steps.

Terzo knew he had magic—the likes of which few could fathom, even from his sticky-fingered child days. The night the little rat had taken his oaths, the air had sung with it: a strange buzz of sensation that felt like the sun had tipped off-center. 

And now— 

Now, the Gate is laid open beneath Terzo's hands, the unseen ink of his spell-marks glowing a blood-lilac fuchsia, bright enough to glare violently through his clothes, and the void of Hell itself screaming in its glory—and Copia is not imbued with the Dark One's majesty, as he should be—is no man, is not living, has flames for eyes and claws for teeth and wings like the undead and is screaming—

"Close it," Secondo snarls at him, a blurred tower of shadow and piercing white—

—and Terzo knew this.

Knew this boy-man-beast-hellspawn of Christ-Shadow Beholden always was. 

He'd looked him in the eye—kneeled there in the cat's cradle of a pentagram scraped in chalk, hands fidgeting at his cassock—and gave a crook of his head: murled, Ready? like a tease, though some part of him had meant it as, You'll be alright, eh?

But unblessed saints and demons below, Copia isn't.

What writhes before him now is a creature that terrifies him to the bone—one that may not abandon his brother completely, should he fail at this any farther than he already has.

"Terzo." Primo, now: an urgent hiss at his shoulder. "Close the gate—"

"I know." His magic burns at his fingertips, sears through his blood. "That—thing hasn't released him—"

A thing with claws cradling Copia's head like ceramic a hairline from shattering, spitting a pained growl through his teeth.

The sacrament in Mariella's hand shakes. "Papa, what's...?"

"I don't know." The flamelight flickers unnaturally against the domed walls: a great breath that lapses to darkness, sparks back again. "Shit, I—I don't know."

"Terzo—"

"Close the gate—"

"Hell Satan—will you all shut up?!"

There are horns in Copia's hair, slick-red-gold between his grappling fingers.

His stomach is in his head. His brain in his feet.

Mariella swallows. She's always been a strong soul—far more than him, now: level-headed in a storm, vibrant in a fog; a presence that guides as much as it grounds.

"How long can you hold it for?" she whispers, firm and calm. 

He pulls dry air into his lungs. "As long as I need to." 

He steps forward, spellwork singing in his veins, and lets his hands unfurl. The air whips at his vestments, wailing with the bone-deep unease of voices old as Creation straining to be heard.

Somewhere in there is Copia's own. He'll drag it out by hand, if he has to.

"You imbecile!" Secondo is shouting, muffled behind the blurred opalescence of the Veil: a wall that glows off the circle Terzo crosses, consumes him with the prickling unease of a limb losing its circulation. "You can't reason with it!"

The flames warp again. A shadow like death bends over the walls. 

Terzo's no stranger to the taste. His dreams have been riddled with the stench of it, from the day the Sight was force-gifted upon him. And like he had, then—a child with battered elbows and bruised knees; a not-man with awkward limbs and disdain for the old orders of this world; a Cardinal with paint on his teeth and a straightjacket of woolen expectations—he repents.

"I call on the spirits of the Then and the Below." A twitch strings through his fingers: with it, a flare of violet light. "To the Beings of those Beyond, the Eternal, I speak now, and speak only—" The pitch of his voice mangles, ragged with the corded growl of a beast: the underbelly all their half-human souls peel clean, when drowned deep enough in this waste. "In my Blood, see my will. In my Sight, my path—"

"What is he saying?" Mariella asks, her voice muffled as though through glass.

Primo calls a sharp warning: "Don't cross it—"

The air whistles with a faint singing of metal—and splits. It grapples at his clothes, twisting his hair with a gravitational pull unseen. 

He breathes in chalk dust, sighs out knives.

Beneath Copia's shivering limbs ripples the black expanse of the Gate: an aether so endless one couldn't capture its history in a millennia: a presence so indefinable that even Primo, with years of such history under his belt, can only stare through the blur, voiceless and rigid at the sight of it.

With twitching claws and lightless eyes and Hell beneath his feet, Terzo beckons.

"Bare yourself to me."

The room shivers. The walls shriek. The flames stagger, flutter, wheeze again—and snuff out, completely. 

In the pitch, it is only the Eternal, and the glow within his veins, and the white of his eye, and Copia's beast-man-beast-man-fanged grin with a split lip— 

A Being that takes the air of the room by the throat, and speaks in a voice that thunders.

"It is time."

Terzo feels its presence slithering up his legs. The weight of its All on his lungs. 

He keeps his hands steady, his intent clear, even for the exertion that leaves his arms quivering.

"Not here," he grits back, a strange echo in the ringed light that encases them. "Not now."

A hand that is not Copia's, is scaled and rotted and red, slaps to the stones. "When?" The shriek hits his ears like a thunderstrike. A chill is crawling under his veins: a heaviness that isn't right, is this thing more than his own blood. "When?"

Primo's magic is wafting through the air—some swift-casted attempt at a ward around them, far too late now. The scent of it itches on Terzo's tongue: dragon's blood, rose-ash, frigid at his back. His own aura swats it off like a gnat, too distracted to let it in, to think.

Fuck, he needs to think.

A stage—

The Being wails.

His downfall—this one's own Ascension—

Ice knifes into his ankle.

A stage and heat and lights and purple-bleeding-black and blood on his throat—a syringe in his brother's own hands, a demon masqueraded—his Unnamed's voice gristling in his ear, Be still be still be still now—

Mariella squeezes a talisman in her palm, smoking sweetly with the taste of Secondo's own protection charm. 

"Papa," she calls out: her voice a muddy, drowned thing.

His lashes flutter open, heavy as lead. 

"Coward!" the Being retches. Hellfire blisters against its silhouette, a nebulic haze. "Tell them of your death. Of Our purpose. Where We were sewn. You know it—"

Mariella holds the stone out to him, guided through the surging current of Primo's ward. The air wrestles like a gale through her sleeve.

"You know it!"

His claws catch at her palm—not his gloves, but his own, thick and black as talons. The talisman burns a sunspot-bloom through his marrow, bright as a thousand stars.

"Thirteen months." His speech is one he doesn't recognize: child and entity and Bloodline infinite. "On a black dais, surrounded by your flock." The talisman melts like a balm into his skin: an unseen shield that ripples with half-lit iridescence. The chill biting into his skin flinches. "You will know it," Terzo grits on, "and now is not it."

He thinks he hears Copia's voice through the fray. He can't be sure.

"And then?" snarls the Being.

Not a being. Not a thing. 

No—this is Lucifer-incarnate.

An orchestration.

"It won't be finished, then." The shell of magic around them snaps like embers in a flame, a jolt wrestling up his arm. So much time. So much weighed down—and he weighs it down, still, his breath shuddering. "You'll have years to go—"

"And then?"

Scraped nails, dead eyes, bloodied horns, Copia—

Secondo's gloved palm tears through the gleam, squeezes like a noose around his bicep. "I won't say it again, you fuck," he spits, the words warped and crackling. "You're going to get him killed—"

He can't shake him off quickly enough. 

"Close it!"

Copia's eyes. Copia's soul, trapped in the All. Right there—

His magic flares like a supernova, spears through that gate and holds: a cosmic blast that shouts his throat raw, knocks Secondo nearly off his feet, leaves him lightheaded and with blood on his teeth—but he has him—

"Thirteen months' time," the Being roars, "and you'll be taken with it."

Terzo hisses, his claws scraping at his brother's skin. 

"So is the Rule."

The Gate grapples at his silks. 

Copia's gloved fingers shake, snatching desperately at his arms. His own voice breaks through the loom. "Terz—"

"I've got you," Terzo spats. Sweat sticks at his neck. 

The fibers of his magic are fraying at the edges. 

Red eyes glare up at him. "Do you accept it?"

The portal whines.

"To the day it is marked, you'll have it. As it is written." His claws slip on Copia's sleeve. "As it always was."

The Being grins. "And so it will be."

It spits his brother out.

His hold on the Gate snaps like a wire—and shatters the well of magic, with it. The howl torrents through the room with a cello's blare, and whips to a bee-winged nothingness.

With the loss of it, gravity lurches in his gut. He cracks to his knees, catches himself on the stones just enough—gloves still intact, not torn through, only clawed with gold—and heaves blood. 

"Papa!"

And his brother. His damned demon brother: rubber-legged, staggering, Copia gasps like a man near-drowned.

Unscathed, somehow—Satan willing.

Primo is across the room, in an instant. "Copia. Unblessed beneath, are you alright?"

"Ye-Yes, yes, I—shit." Primo catches him, his gloves slipping at his sleeves. Unsteadily, he veers back on his feet. "What...what happened?" 

It's too dark. Too quiet. Too loud.

Terzo swallows down bile; chokes on blood and phlegm. Mariella's habit swims in his vision.

"Papa," she hushes, clear as crystal now. "Papa, look at me." 

Secondo, halfway between them: "Is it gone?"

Her fingers skim through the sweat-dripped mess of his paints: press cooly at his temple.

"Is it gone?"

"Yes," she breathes.

Hazily, lashes flicking, Terzo tips out of her touch. He chokes on his words, the first try; rasps them, the second. "Where's the rat?"

"He's here," Primo answers him. "He's fine."

There's a clumping of boots, a rustling of silks, Mariella scurrying from the floor.

"What in Hell's name were you thinking." Secondo's hand jerks at his sleeve, wrestles him half-blind back into his bones. "You could have doomed us all. We never—never—speak to the Unnamed without wards in place. You know that—"

"Brother," Copia croaks.

Secondo rips his head over his shoulder. "You shut your mouth. I haven't even gotten to you." With a firm grip, his hand slips under Terzo's arm, helps him slowly to his feet. "Get up," he huffs. "Come on. Are you alright?"

"I'm—fuck. Fine. I'm fine."

His elder brother scowls down at him. "Good. And you better stay that way, because I have half a goddamned mind to put a fist through your teeth—"

"Dino," Primo snarls, "This is helping nothing." Years of practice in such misguided events has left him rationed, calm: a quiet glance turned to the pale-faced attendant behind him, who stands shell-shocked, having seen unwantedly the darker veins of their Order—and ones their customs would soon have him forget. "Jean," Primo says, waiting for his eyes to drop. "We will need a medic. Say nothing to the All-Father."

Secondo scoffs. "Oh, yes—Nihil will have this one's ass, when he hears of this—"

"Saints—ignore him, young one. A medic, and Priestess Diana. Quick as you can."

The boy nods and takes off through the hall's doors, stumbling up the stairs in his haste.

In his absence, the room holds a collective breath, the eyes of the siblings still in attendance fixed like rabbits on the four men clustered in the center of the room.

"We're alright," Primo says to them all, in a tone that is more order than reassurance.

It couldn't be more of a reach.

Terzo wheezes a snarl, a laugh. "Alright." The stones sting beneath his feet: five paces that drive him out of Secondo's iron grip, steer him straight into the path of Copia's saucer-wide blinking: eyes blue and white and younger than they should ever seem, in a face that has grown so weathered, as all of them have.

And he knew.

He lifts a clawed finger, his breath too slow. "I knew."

Primo, sharp as steel: "Do not take this out on him—"

He couldn't give a shit. 

He almost killed him.

The bastard wasn't living.

"What are you, mh?" Terzo licks his lips, tastes the bitter metal of blood. He lifts a shaky hand. "No, no—what did she make you?" He smears the leather against his mouth, the heat of his stare unwavering, a knife-edge sliced from shoes to frazzled fringe. "That—that Aether just within you, eh? Always that, under there?"

Copia shakes. "I didn't," he blunders.

"This is why she brought you, isn't it? Satan, of course—"

Secondo wrestles for his elbow, a steadying squeeze. "Terzo—"

"You saw it—!"

His brother's eyes simmer: one black in the lowlight, the other white as a moonbeam. "I saw you."

His bites his nails through his glove. Rattles in a breath.

"Calm down, the both of you," Primo says coldly, a hand still on Copia's shoulder. "It was reckless—but you managed. We are all still in one piece." He steps between them, pointedly, studying Terzo's face like a leech. "Your Sight will be strained for weeks, after that. You did not have the power to even attempt that on your own."

Terzo snuffs. "A good thing one of us sorry shits did."

Behind the sharp slope of Primo's shoulder, Copia shivers, eyes downturned. "I—"

"Don't." He drags a gloved hand through his hair. Shaking—still shaking? Outraged—always. Horrified, still. "You're good," he tells his brother, tells himself. "It is all good. You're alright. Okay."

Primo's eyes stare through him, see a bitten-lipped boy with a bandage on his cheek.

Terzo turns away. "Okay," he hushes again, and walks, past Secondo's stone-still glare, Mariella's worried frown, and walks, and walks, and walks—

"You are not running away, now—"

"Dino. Leave it. Copia, do not linger on that, alright? Don't listen to it. You know how he is. It is not your fault—"

"But what—what was that? What happened—?"

—up the gnarled stairwells, out the maze of lower halls, stumbling over the grasses, and sits like a stone on the side-entry's steps. Like a ghost.

Sits for an age.

He must—because, by then, the medics have come, and the stench of that room has been dragged open, and Mariella's whispers are drifting across the corridor's arches—after he's ripped off his gloves, dug his fingers through his hair, tried to breathe and not think—and he expects her. 

He expects her fear, her pity.

Not Copia.

The fool's boots scuff on the stairs.

"Is it, eh..." His brother muddles over a breath. "Alright if I—?"

Terzo doesn't have the mind to fight it—not with sweat still cold at his back. He swats his palm, some attempt at allowance, kneading his other fingers over his brow.

Copia slumps down to the steps. Just stays there, in awkward, insufferable silence.

Finally: "Shit—it's chilly today, isn't it?"

Terzo leers through his fringe. "Going to talk about the birds, next?"

"I'm just saying."

"Just saying. Yes—and you'll be singing, after." He combs back the half-tamed waves of his hair, hangs his hand across his knee. "Old chamber smells like a cesspool."

Copia manages a smile, the thistles of his mustache wrinkling. "Bleh. Nasty place. I've always hated it, down there."

"All the more reason to, now, huh?" Terzo forces a sneer of his own, glaring away. He sniffs. Pits his tongue against his teeth.

For a beat, his brother says nothing. Then, his gloved fingers squeaking over each other: "I'm alright."

Terzo chuffs, furrowing his brows. "Barely."

He can feel the rat's eyes on him. It makes his skin crawl. "Primo...told me. What it—well." Copia frowns at his boots, at the graveled path beyond. "Did you mean it?" he hushes, lifting his eyes. "That you've...seen it, before?"

Terzo bites the inside of his lip. "Seen lots of things."

"But—that. It's—I've always thought...er...felt that, maybe, she'd..."

"Sister?"

"Mother, yes—"

"Your mother."

Copia's shoulders twitch.

"I—sorry," Terzo mumbles, shifting his fingers over his thumb. "I know it's not..." 

His fault, his intention—his anything, right?

But it is. Isn't.

Should be.

He flexes his hand, pitters his fingertips together. Looks away. "Anyway."

A breeze rustles cooly through the shrubbery that flanks the stairs: a feathered hush along the pines that tower over the grounds.

"Anyway," Copia repeats, shifting his tongue around his mouth. "It's just...you, eh...you have seen it, before," he says again, watching the air ripple through the leaves, "haven't you?"

Terzo glances at him. Sister's sloped nose. A paintbrush-smattering of freckles. The white of his eye, fixed on the swaying branches. Lanky little thing, as he's always been. The mirror to his own placelessness, own purposelessness, own forced mantle he never asked to have thrown upon him—but craved, clawed for, claimed, nonetheless.

"Told you, little thing," he says, tipping his heel off the stones. "Seen lots of things."

"But I know. I've always...felt it, I just haven't—" Copia fumbles, lacing his fingers. "Had the words, I guess." 

"Rare thing, for you."

"Shut up."

"Heh—even rarer for me, eh?"

"Ugh."

They breathe in unison, the air thick with it: hope, despair, magic, emptiness.

"When it...when that...thing took over me, did it...say anything to you?"

Terzo's mouth ticks.

Thirteen months. Poison in his neck. His body tossed through the gaping maws of the realm beyond.

He stares at the points of his boots, still speckled with his own spit and blood, and scuffs his thumb at it.

"Eh...not clearly. Hard to make out, in the muck of it."

"None of it came through?"

Terzo tilts his chin on his shoulder, fixing him with a narrowed look. "It wasn't you, Coppie," he says. "Just...forget what I said, before. Old temper of mine, rearing its shitting head again."

"But what if—"

"It wasn't." Terzo plants his palm on his brother's knee, chipped black on his nails, and squeezes. "It wasn't," he murmurs again.

Copia stutters. "Well, even if it wasn't—it—it felt like I was..."

"Delirious?" He perks one brow, fox-grinned in his usual reach for deflection, distraction. "Dead, even?"

"Whole."

The smile wanes. 

For a breath, he tries to hunt for that beast beneath his brother's skin—the way he so often does in the steamed glass of his own mirrors, and so easily sees it in them: the spire-teeth, the winged limbs, the eyes half-living. 

He finds only a quivery little boy, tucked in the cage of a man's body. The same one who spent years, against all odds—against his own stupid, spiteful jealousy—clinging like a barnacle to his side.

He slides his hand away. "The Sight does it to all of us, little rat. Strips away the Veil." He picks at his thumb, the gravel hazing to a fine blur, and swallows: white stone crisping to clarity, again. "Catch an Emeritus in the right light—even a clueless one can see the Fallen in them."

Copia frowns.

Maybe it's not a comfort. All the more proof that he isn't one of them, as he has so often feared.

The Other, above all else.

"But what if I am?" he says quietly. "Whatever that...thing was? Will, eh...will something happen, if that's true?"

Terzo lifts his eyes to the sky—grayish with cloud-cover, damp with the chilled humidity of a storm along the way, something to wash this whole mess clean—and lies through his teeth. 

"Happen?" he snides. "What is this—Armageddon, itself? You worry worse than Nonna, Coppie." He wrinkles his brows at him, his smile thin, his paints half-smeared off his face. "And even if you were—would it be so bad? All of us are hardly human, eh? Perhaps you are just farther along the evolutionariness—the truest Creature of the Night, of us all." His eyes widen, teasingly. "I mean—psh! I will have my fangs, no? And the pincher, his wolf-pelt, and Primo will, eh...Hell, what would the old goat be?"

Copia rolls his eyes, leaning into the cradle of his elbows. "A zombie?"

"Feh—the Nihilist is the rotting corpse, surely."

His brother rolls into a snicker. "Sea creature?"

"Agh—not the lagoon man! We will insult the dear river's integrity, with such things—no, no." Terzo sniffs, feigns smearing away his paints instead of the heat itching at his eye, and smiles wryly again. "Let's be realistic, here—the old gardenia will be the enchanted plant that traps one's bones for the witches, yes?"

Copia wheezes on another laugh.

Saints, he hates that laugh. Godawful sound, a mimicry of his own: a snort and a tea kettle and a giggle all in one. 

The brightest sunbeam of any.

"He has to be the, er—the witch, right?" Copia wonders, giving him a teasing glance.

Terzo flashes his teeth. "Now, if that is the category—I will rule above them all, no?"

And his brother laughs again.

Their little brother, little demon, little star. The highest heir of them all, doomed to a path he should have never been put on—as all of them are, in their own ways. Always have been; always will be.

Terzo ignores Primo's shadow in the corridor, flanked by Mariella's quiet eyes. Ignores the hawkish leer of Secondo's folded-armed scowling, waiting to deflect the plague that will no doubt burst into the halls, once news of it all has reached the ears of their Highest.

At least for this moment, he can pretend.

Flit away what is yet to come, like a bottle tossed to the sea—Nihil, Sister, this brother tressed in silks and jewels for a price he hadn't the slightest knowledge would be paid—and goad another laugh out of him, and another. 

Relish in the denial that this is all that ever was. Ever could be. 

Copia: blushing, teary-eyed but toothy, knocking his shoulder into his—unable to do anything but choke at the idiotic scenarios he conjures for the four of them, in all their monsterly glory. As distracted as he deserves to be, after that wretched thing. The memory of it all forgotten, if for a moment.

And that's enough, Terzo thinks, the cool tang of rain on the gales.

For now, maybe, that's enough.

#writing #the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #papa emeritus iii #papa iii #papa terzo #terzo #papa emeritus iv #papa iv #copia #papa copia #cardinal copia #this is just 4k of whump i truly have no words #🫡 #sorry? #buckle up for magic shenanigans #and family dysfunction: per usual #we're on angst train again that when terzo isn't a chronic flirt he's maybe actually a Mess (tm) #they all are in their own ways let's be fr #tw: blood #tw: dark themes

[markantonys]

rand and elayne got a different meetcute in the show, which means the garden meetcute is still up for grabs, and it would be ideal for gawyn to meet egwene before the coup even if only briefly, and it would also be ideal for him and elaida to meet rand before he's gained widespread infamy as the dragon, and it would also be extremely cool for egwene and elaida to meet before they become rival amyrlins.

hence, i propose an early s3 sequence where the waste crew is passing through caemlyn and rand and egwene both fall into the garden, giving gawyn the bi crisis of his life, and then both get hauled off to almost be arrested by their mutual future mother-in-law and their mutual future kidnapper. i would like to see it.

#it would also be extremely funny if rand and egwene have JUST broken up and now they're stuck on a shenanigan together #gawyn and egwene having a whole meetcute and flirting with each other while rand is like 🧍 #it would balance out egwene going 🧍 while avirandlayne are flirting during the rest of the season #wot #wot book spoilers

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

if liam ever says something that sounds even remotely smooth it was 100% by accident lol

#if he tries to flirt You Will Know (he is horrible at it) #laya plays dragon age #my art #my ocs #oc: liam hawke #before bed doodle so more to come tomorrow probably #been picking up all the companions today so. companion intro shenanigans #sorry not sorry i will keep drawing them standing around talking <3 #need to get em out of my system xddd #also unrelated but damn anders is fluorescent in those screenshots xD

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

oohhh i know you did an ask on who every teachers favourite child is but who are the kid’s favourite? out of the teen parenting trio, who were tsumiki and megumi’s favourites? or atleast the one they were individually closest to?

This is a legitimately hard one and there is no exact answer to it. Here’s the best approximation.

Tsumiki:

When she was little, it was Shoko. This was not for the best reasons.

I don’t want to delve too deep into this because we’re gonna find out a lot more about how Tsumiki felt about the teen parenting trio as a kid in the fic itself, so I’m leaving a lot of context out. But she liked Shoko as a kid because Shoko was a drug addict, and so was her mom.

It’s not that she liked that Shoko was addicted to drugs. I think Tsumiki violently hates drugs for what it did to her mom and, later, Shoko. But there was a safety in familiarity for Tsumiki. She liked Shoko because she knew how to deal with her and what her problem was. She’d take the monster she knew over the one she didn’t any day of the week, and she just could not understand why Gojo and Nanami were hanging around or why they pretended to care. She was too afraid of anything new to feel comfortable around Nanami or Gojo for a long time. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Shoko was good to her as a kid. Better than her own mom ever was. And Tsumiki really, truly liked her for that. But she also liked her because she thought that if things went sour with Shoko, she would know how it would and how to handle it. She felt most comfortable around Shoko as a result.

When Tsumiki grew up, I don’t think she had an exact favorite. She was comfortable with and trusted all of them equally, which shouldn’t be confused with her trusting all of them entirely.

She loves her family. And she trusted them enough to bring megumi to them at the start of the fic. But we also know that Nanami found something to make him think she thought they would cut her off from her brother. She’s got a bit of a distance from all of them.

I think she’s spent the most time with Gojo. He was around the most as a kid. I think she likes how he always pushes megumi to be out of his shell. I think she trusts him to take care of them. All of them were really a team in raising them, but Gojo was the closest they got to having a dad. She called him “Dad” once by accident and then immediately tried to drown herself. Megumi had to follow her into the ocean to get her to come up for air. Gojo was insufferable for a month trying to get her to do it again and moped for ages when she wouldn’t.

But I also think that she still has a soft spot for Shoko in the present. They have a little bit of a girl's club. And Tsumiki's unspeakably proud of Shoko for getting clean, and a little bit emotional about it. Shoko got clean for them. Her mom didn’t get clean for her.

It means a lot to her.

Megumi:

When Megumi was little, it was Gojo.

He would never, ever admit it, but it was. He was the one that Megumi trusted to save him from the Zenin, and it fucking broke him when he didn’t. He thought Gojo was a pain in the ass, don’t get me wrong. But Gojo appeared first. Gojo took care of them first. Gojo went to their stupid school recitals and walked him home from school and ruffled his hair and gave them a stupid house even when they said he didn’t have to.

Megumi thought Gojo was just some asshole with ulterior motives when he met him, and it took a long time, but Gojo was the first person he ever thought would take care of him unconditionally. He was a pain in the ass. But he never hurt him. And he always took care of him. It was like gravity, and Megumi trusted it would still be there when he asked for help.

And it fucking hurt when Gojo didn’t.

He took a huge amount of distance from everyone, after, but Gojo especially. He’s most comfortable with Nanami. Nanami has judgment he trusts and has a quieter energy that Megumi is most comfortable with.

He believes that Nanami means it when he says that he won’t let anyone hurt him again. He doesn’t believe Nanami can do it. It’s nothing against Nanami. He just knows how badly he can be hurt, and how hard it is to stop people from doing it. It took a Herculean amount of trust for megumi to trust that anyone even meant it when they said it, so Nanami does mean a huge deal to him.

He believes Gojo would protect him. He doesn’t necessarily believe he will.

It took a long, long time for him to trust Gojo again, but he does. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he does. He believes Gojo would absolutely intervene on his behalf if he knew Megumi was being hurt. He just doesn’t have the same confidence of him finding out in time.

I can’t find the post again, but I touched on this a little in a different ask about Megumi’s delirium, when he kept insisting that he thought Gojo was busy—he wasn’t saying that because he thought Gojo wouldn’t come and save him, he was saying that because he was certain Gojo would save him if he found out in time. He just didn’t think Gojo would find out before the Zenin killed him.

If Gojo knew, then he’d come save Megumi. The Zenin could only get away with this because he was too busy to realize Megumi was missing.

Gojo was busy. Gojo was busy. It’s not that he didn’t care; it’s that he didn’t know. He’d save him if he just weren’t so busy.

I think Megumi would really struggle with this question if you asked him this in the present day. Not outwardly—he would say Nanami because that’s the safe, obvious answer, and he’d leave it at that.

But he’d struggle, because I think he knows that Gojo was actually his answer once. And I think he is afraid of looking too closely at whether that’s changed.

#sea glass gardens #in my head theres all these ridiculous family shenanigans we don’t have time for #Tsumiki had some guy flirting with her at the beach #she’s however hella gay and was trying to blow him off #and there comes Gojo. The Humiliation. #he simply writhes with a need to embarrass his children particularly when they’re getting hit on and Tsumiki snapped at him ‘dad you’re #embarrassing me’ before simply blue screening in unadulterated horror #then she just. walked into the ocean. ended it all then and there. she was not coming out again. she was returning to the sea because #evolution was wrong to leave it to begin with. Megumi had to go in after her to get her to not kill herself over this #then Gojo was Insufferable for Ages #he cried to Nanami about it for like a month and then wouldn’t stop trying to get Tsumiki to call him dad again #she was despondent

[grahoriasfancave]

Things that could’ve fixed the awkward Eric/Rachel/Nick drama in House of Ashes imo:

The love triangle is omitted entirely and the fandom is left to ship as it pleases

They have the conversation before the briefing and that’s that

They try to have the conversation in the Star Cave and get shamed into dropping it for the time being by Jason and Salim

(Alternately, Jason steps in Murray Bauman-style and insists they get their shit together before they drive him insane)

There’s no big conversation at all, just a little tension from knowing there’s a problem but they’re professional and save that for post-game

All three have multiple chances to bond Jalim-style depending on dialogue options and QTEs, possibly resulting in them behaving more like a polycule by the end

Rachel straight-up kisses Clarice in front of Nick and Eric after they make it to the “safety” of the temple

#they could’ve also given rachel the option to flirt with jason just to fuck with nick and eric #not with salim cuz i doubt she’d be comfortable with that so soon but she and jason definitely have the rapport #less tired ya novel bullshit more mature adults and/or shenanigans please #house of ashes #eric king #rachel king #nick kay #jason kolchek #salim othman #clarice stokes #kingkay #crap what’s the ship name for eric/rachel #king^2? #royal couple? #idk what rachel/clarice is either so just pretend their tag’s there too

[discordiansamba]

anyways I don't know if it's due to falling asleep to the backdrop of people setting off way too many fireworks or not, but I had a weird dream last night and now I am here to tell you guys all about it because I've been idly rotating it all day. you've heard of body swap not get ready for... personality swap, I guess? But not completely?

anyways it seemed to take place at the tail end of season one, where instead of getting shot out into random locations by the corrupted wormhole, all the lions stayed on the Castle, but something about the combination of the corrupted wormhole and the paladin bond resulted in something... weird happening. Some kind of quintessence rearrangement that resulted in Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Keith all swapping aspects of their personalities around that Shiro was apparently spared from because of some kind of defense mechanism that Pidge installed in the control chip for his arm that's in his brain that protected him but the backlash forced him to require some time in the cyropod.

(I guess my brain said. you know what would be funny. Shiro just waking up to this nonsense. and honestly? valid.)

(also allura and coran are fine and somehow escaped the wormhole don't worry about it. apparently the mice did also have their personalities swapped around but like. they're mice. they don't care.)

Pidge was probably the least effected bc she got traits from Hunk, who she already has a decent amount in common with, except now she's prone to nervous tirades, is now a morning person, and is calmed by the act of cooking. except she can't cook. Hunk at least kept very clear notes on all of his cooking experiments so she has something to work with. She suddenly finds herself more drawn to tinkering with things as opposed to coding, but she can still do the latter super easily. Also she has a solid sleep schedule now? She also stops wearing her brother's glasses bc she winds up fixated on the idea that she'll break them so she just keeps them safe in her room instead. Which she has now cleaned. She still kind of feels like she dodged a bullet. Sorry guys.

Lance is... having an experience, because he picked up traits from Pidge. He likes studying now? Except apparently he still has ADHD, but also Coran gave him this clicker thing that seems to be working wonders. He's suddenly a lot less interested in flirting and his detailed skin care routine kind of doesn't seem so important anymore. He has to actively set alarms on his phone otherwise he'll pull all nighters. He's starting to learn how to code? Which is weird but it's oddly calming. He's also pretty sure he picked up Pidge's sense of humor, because Pidge definitely picked up Hunk's sense of humor.

Hunk, to his great misfortune, has picked up traits from Keith. Which also includes his temper and his general introversion, the former of which he is working very hard on managing. He's also spending way more time on the training deck than ever before, but it suddenly doesn't feel like exercise so much as it feels... relaxing? Also he is like. always tense. What the hell, Keith, how did you live like this. How is HE going to live like this. Although it is kind of nice to not feel the urge to puke from nerves, which he... doesn't really seem to have anymore? That's kind of nice.

Keith is probably the oddest case of the bunch. He picked up personality traits from Lance, which he can't even get angry about because he doesn't have a temper anymore? apparently? He's suddenly a lot more extroverted, and also he feels the weird compulsion to... flirt? He's also become way more interested in self care and is suddenly not a morning person anymore. But for all that in some ways he has the most traits leftover from his core personality, because those traits turned out not to be parts of his personality so much as they were due to him being Galra- so he still likes training and fighting as much as he did before. Which is great, because if he let Lance's personality take him by the nose, he'd definitely just start to coast on his talent.

But they also each still have core aspects of themselves that apparently their lions preserved so it's not a full personality swap. Pidge will still wax poetic about the tech around them. Lance might not be huge into self care anymore, but he's still interested in trying to keep himself looking good. Hunk is still very kind, which makes having Keith's temper hard on him. Keith still is a nature boy and a jock, and somehow still doesn't understand how the cheer goes.

POV: You're Shiro. You wake up to this mess. It's been like this for a week apparently, and Coran and Allura don't know how to fix it.

...can you just go back to the cryopod maybe?

#apparently lance bought himself a pair of fake glasses that looked like Veronica's #he needed it to sell his new brainy personality. which is a very Lance thing to think #apparently my subconscious decided keith was better at flirting than lance. which is funny so I'm saying it's right #also apparently part of taking better care of himself involved no longer shaving down his nails so they just ended up sharp and pointy #keith reached his maximum hotness potential through self care incident. 340457 dead 4858582 injured #lance voice: what do you MEAN I kept my *insecurity*. that's the one personality trait I didn't want! #honestly. could be a vehicle for both incredible shenanigans AND character study #what makes a person who they are etc #identity crisis au