#sort of a swap AU

[devilishbirds]

i offer yall a redd. do you accept

Ill compile an info post about him soon, but hes sort of a swap conductor? Im still workshopping the roles here. He takes the place of grooves

was i sort of nervous of putting it up? Yeah. this pretty little pixel collection gave me more than the recommended amount of upsetti spaghetti thoughts and im not having it. also this shit was rushed fr :sob:

sorry main tags folk. youll have to deal with my stuff for a while

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

[peachphernalia]

shitty phone doodles GO

i had fhe absolute worst conversation with my friends last night about . w. well about dream using Outdated Language. and. Yeag. sorry

[blue by p0pcornpr1nce, dream by joku, ink by comyet]

[reineydraws]

this ask got me thinking about the body swap au again lol here's a wip for what is eventually going to become a sketch dump post for the au aha. whenever i finish that.

[craterrrrr]

“I am cruel, I am gentle, I can make you laugh”

[sunnymainecoonx]

Been playing sky lately so

Anyways, these designs and drawings are very wonky aslo including the fact the originality of each design is stupidly unbalanced

IF I make an actual AU for this I will definitely change the designs but y'all have this for now

[socksandbuttons]

I have just been made aware you draw Solar Flare-

I WANT TO SNUGGLE HIM, HE IS BEST CHARACTER-

DFVBDK Yeah Maybe 3/5 would Snuggle you back tho! (Canon, not pictured, might just cause Honestly he deserves it)

[tinukie]

oh man i dont know what im cooking with this au

Icons because yeah idk why not:

yes um anyways

[lover-of-skellies]

Ink - One of us speak nothing but truth

Blue - THE OTHER NOTHING BUT LIES

Dream - ok i now this,we need to ask...

Error - * takes ax and kills ink*

Dream - WHAT THE HELL

Error - *point at Blue*is he dead

Blue - No

Error - this one is liar

.

[celestial-hieroglyph]

i really like @p1neapplerum 's swap au ten, he bites people and gives them rabies for fun i think

[storfulsten]

Whitty And Bf Personality Swap? Lovely Art By The Way, Truly Inspiring. ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

hm I guess k, not feeling the most creative but here lol

idk lol

mostly based on this bc idk thought the vibes looked fitting in theory lmao:

[unrelatabledude]

half foot crazy b would u care them or cast them aside

[ryoko-san]

The Vampire King’s Entertainer || (Vamp! Caelum)

Soooo let me explain this concept i have for Caelum’s other swap counterpart in a brief description—

He is a vampire dressed up as a jester that entertains the royal vamp family (even tho he’s part of it) and is very much kinda porter-coded in this au.

In his human life, he died after he turned 18 over 80 years ago which is what caused his madness now. He still has his childish side…just a “tad” bit crazy.

He is very bloodthirsty, but mainly for the people he finds to be malicious to the royal family. He will not hesitate to slaughter anyone that interferes.

just give him a bloodbag and he’s totally chill.

[twstjam]

ALRIGHT OKAY since so many of you guys really seemed to like that "Yuu gets dared to ask out Malleus but ends up hanging out with their bestie Tsunotarou who's TOTALLY a completely different person" prompt I came up with I DO plan to write it buuuuuut...

A Malleyuu swap au... how would that work...

There's so many ways we can go with this I think. We could either swap their roles or personalities. AND THEN because I am obsessive over details there's the question of wtf the other characters are...

OR—AND MY BRAIN JUST MADE THIS UP AS I WROTE THAT OTHER THING—

au where everyone else is normal (by this I mean magicless) but Yuu is STILL the odd one out because they're the only person with magic somehow. This is seen as either a Very Normal or Very Weird thing (that they have to keep secret) and I just think there's so much potential for Silliness and Shenanigans for either of these.

I GOT OFF-TRACK anyways back to the initial swapped Malleyuu idea I just got this image of Malleus being that Lilo and Stitch meme like "Please send me the nicest angel you have" and then here comes mega powerful Yuu (possibly still from another world) like "where the FUCK am I WHERE are the monsters?!"

A personality swap could also be fun though like. Can you IMAGINE Malleus being competent at socializing and is seen as cool and helpful because he's a prince who's good at almost everything so everyone likes him?? Meanwhile Yuu is the magicless outcast who's only known as Crowley's little errand boy(/gn)??? ...Now that I've written it down it sounds so wrong 😭

[theywhospringforth]

I have two different au storylines under TWSF au bc why keep it just to one... we'll just go into the one for this post.

First we have a sort of spin off of a Role Swap au. In this, the other bishops were about to imprison Narinder in the land of the dead when he suddenly disappeared.

Narinder wakes up in the clearing where his cult lead by Ratau used to be and he's now mortal/semi-mortal. He's doesn't know for a while whether this was his sibling's punishment for him or some other curse but either way, he wants his revenge on them.

Not long after he establishes his cult, he starts to get strange but comforting dreams that he doesn't remember and someone is leaving goods and relics in his path in the woods of Leshy's domain.

Ratau plays a little more active role in helping Narinder with the cult. He travels often since he is in charge of sustaining the cult. Trading for goods and convincing merchants to set up closer to the cult. When he is there, he helps keep things in order while Narinder is gone on crusade.

It's not until Narinder starts to remember parts of his dreams that he figures out who is helping.

Ratau's brother Ratoo plays a little bit of a different role here. Instead of being unaffiliated, he is the witness of life. He is one of the few who still worship a god long forgotten.

See Life was imprisoned before the fall of the first gods, but they are still able to watch the world from their pocket dimension prison and they are fascinated by Death, by Narinder. They could not stand the thought of him being imprisoned in one of the few places they cannot see or reach so they used what remnants of power they still have in order to rip him from the grasp of the other bishops; the side effect of this being his descension from godhood.

They make a deal with Ratoo for his heart in order to regain enough power to enter Narinder's dreams.

After Narinder starts remembering a their dream conversations, Lambren has Ratoo help more directly.

(Side note: I changed Ratoo's background a bit bc I love the idea of one worshipping death and the other life.)

Ratoo actually knows where the Lamb is imprisoned and has a way to enter and exit freely.

For Lambren's motives, mainly it's just their unhealthy obsession with him. They have vague hopes that he might free them, but does not hinge their help on any promise for Narinder to free them.

The god of life, Lambren, was actually locked away for good reason. I have not decided for sure if I'll go the same route with this story as the other one in this au, so for now, it can remain undecided.

This version has the added advantage of god Lamb holding little mortal Narinder in their palm and listening to his complaints or rambling to him about various things.

[lettiethepasta]

ehehehehehe