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rubycity_ooc2014-06-13 10:34 pm
untilavalon) wrote in rubycity_ooc2014-06-13 10:34 pm
Entry tags:
Time for something fun!
Need a little pick me up? Or just feel like playing something really stupid? It's time for a meme.
The Magical Swap Meme
or the 'oops, you done fucked up' meme
courtesy of Luc*
Directions
- Post your character with the name/canon in the subject meme. In your comment, put your preferences such as, "I don't want to do prompt #1" or "for the gender swap prompt, [character] will look like [this]" or "for the age swap prompt, my character will be 5 years younger".
- Tag each other and have fun.
- Body Swap: Holy shit. You're looking at yourself like you're looking in a mirror. The only problem is, when you're looking down at your own hands... you're in someone else's body.
- Gender Swap: Well, this is new; you're now no longer in the right body, but it's still yours. Were you always a girl? You sure weren't yesterday. Of course, this is probably another one of the city's tricks; no point in getting all up in arms about it, is there?
- Age Swap: Are you starting to see a pattern here? Now you're younger-- or older-- than you were a little while ago. Who're you going to bug about your height now?
- Canon Swap: Your entire history is different now. Suddenly, you're a homestuck. Or maybe you're an elf. Or perhaps you're not even switching canons with the person you're threading with. What's the damage?
- Power Swap:...Like the one above, but with powers instead of canons.
- Moral Alignment Swap: Suddenly, you're evil as hell. Or maybe you're really good now. Or maybe your moral alignment is "eh /non-commital wiggly hand gesture". I don't make the rules here, bucko.
- Luc, you didn't include this swap I wanted to do!: Well look at you, you have a bigger imagination than I do. What are you waiting for? Swap it. Just swap it. Do it, before it's too late.
You now have four minutes to save the world.**
*If it's a bad meme, it wasn't my idea.
**You do not have four minutes to save the world. In fact, there's really no point in worrying about world saving right now.
no subject
All I know is Grayson did right by me.
[ He squares his jaw, frustrated, sincere, furious. ]
So no matter what, I'm on your side. I don't give a damn who you serve. I'm not going to abandon you.
no subject
I just tried to kill you! I'm not this other-me you keep talking about, and I'm not Robin either! I don't even know you!
[The court would have his head for failing like this, but frankly, he just wanted to leave. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't.]
J-- Just leave me alone, you weirdo--!
no subject
[ Indignant right back, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. God, Grayson, get on his level here. ]
Yeah, you're being an asshole right now--
[ Is that what we call trying to kill someone? ]
--and no, you're not my Grayson or even Robin.
But I'm still your ally and I'm not leaving you alone in this city. So deal with it.
[ You're stuck with him, Dick. He will dog your every step until you give up out of exhaustion and surrender to the inevitability of his presence. ]
no subject
[He didn't get it. Was it some kind of trap? Some trick? It had to be. Couldn't be that easy.
He took a step back in his own defense, but his temper was already running out of steam, and-- (and he hated this kid because he missed his mom, and he missed Zitka, but he couldn't let himself start crying over that--)]
...What do you want from me then? [Well, he wasn't screaming bloody murder anymore, but it still pretty obviously came off as a freaked out kid trying to act tough.]
no subject
[ He holds out a hand: small, but steely in his determination. ]
And a partnership. As long as you're in this city, you'll have someone to watch your back.
no subject
He stared at the hand for a solid minute. It could be the perfect chance to get his job done, once his back was turned. But he wasn't sure he... wanted, to do that?
Another moment, and he retraced his tracks and stepped forward, reaching out and shaking Damian's hand in affirmation-- still poised, still waiting for the trap to truly be sprung, but-- but still certain.]
Fine. Truce. [He as basically dead either way anyway.]
no subject
Fair warning: even if you do change your mind and manage to kill me? I'll come back in a week or so and throw you into the river.
[ Just so they're clear. ]
With the mud. Maybe even leeches. It won't be pleasant.
[ Not pleasant at all. Although a dunking as punishment for murder is getting off lightly. He clicks his tongue at the wounds left on Dick (and himself). ]
For now, let's see about getting those wrapped up.
no subject
[It was as deadpan as he could possibly deliver it, but hey, he wasn't. Dunking for murder was getting off pretty good in his mind. And he was highly skeptical of the whole dying thing anyway. This was insane.]
And I'll be fine. [He idly wiped some of the blood from his shoulder. He kind of looked a little ashamed-- though whether it was because of his own injuries or the ones on Damian, who knew.]
Um, I don't-- medical's not really my thing.
no subject
[ Leeches are horrid.
His eyebrows raise, skeptical, at Dick's comment. ]
'Not really your thing'? What, you just let it bleed?
[ Damian had tried his best not to injure the small Grayson too badly, but batarangs had sharp edges - hard to get around that. They both needed medical, if he was honest with himself. The cut was deep, and increasingly painful as the adrenaline wears off. ]
-Tt.- The last thing you want is for those cuts to get infected, here.
no subject
[Yet, at least. Not said as a gloat or anything, and it's not really a matter of pride, just a matter of fact.]
No one taught me that stuff. I think if I ever got super hurt they'd just get rid of me anyway.
no subject
Everyone gets hit, eventually. You'll need to know how.
[ Damian has no uncertainties what Grayson means when he says get rid of. It creeps up on him, the concern: anything he can teach Dick here that might help keep him alive wherever he comes from? Worth teaching.
(Grayson, his Grayson is gone, but he can make sure this one is okay. And later, he can take the time to vent his grief on the training rings. He can do this.)
Hopping up onto the ledge, he turns to the other assassin, crossing his arms. ]
Now come on Grayson, before I bleed out waiting on you.
[ His eyebrows raise, challenging and expectant, as he steps back off the ledge and drops with a call up: ]
Unless you think you can keep up!
no subject
Of course he could keep up, what's that supposed to mean?]
You wanna race-- after I planted one of your weapons in your shoulder?
no subject
[ Damian sure isn't slowed by the injury, throwing out the grapple line mid-drop, single-handed, to swing around the side of the building, cape whipping in the air behind him.
It's natural, for him, to challenge Grayson in the same way he always does - jibing, one-upping the other. But there's something about this Grayson (so much more serious, so unlike Damian's partner), that has him wanting to egg on the other even more, to engage him, get him to play and race. ]
no subject
The taunt makes him a bit more sour, actually-- but the competitive side in him is still in there. He'd never really had other kids to compete against anymore. So of course, he rises to the challenge.]
I'll show you--!
[And he's set off right after Damian, completely ignoring the injuries and running as fast as his legs will carry him.]
no subject
(The two of them, idiots, ignoring the damage, but for him at least it's a fun rough-and-tumble.) ]
First one to the loft window!
[ No prize, except victory. Although here's where Damian is slowed from his brief lead by the gash in his shoulder, as he has to clamber up the veranda essentially single-handed. ]
no subject
Dick climbs up towards what seemed to be the indicated window in much the same way, but even if his range of motion is limited, he doesn't allow it to both or impede his progress; both arms, both legs, damn the consequences.
(It's exhilarating, he realizes, in a way that a way that much of his life-- most of his work-- isn't. Failure is not an option; but maybe later, upon further inspection, that aside from a bit of pride, there's no real consequence to losing.
It's almost freeing, in a way.]
Eat my dust, Robin--!
no subject
[ Perhaps it's for the best that they both manage to tag the loft window at the same time, or close enough - Dick's slightly longer reach may have won him that battle, even with Damian hot at his heels; unlocked (from Static, likely), it pushes in with the twin shoves, wide enough to send them both tumbling to the loft floor.
Damian finds himself sprawled against a pillow, and is absurdly pleased about it, barking out a laugh.
Like Dick, he's never really had the chance to play with another child assassin the way that their type enjoys playing: violent, competitive, reckless. The race is fun, and he'd argue the fight that preceded it was fun, too, even if they're now bleeding all over the loft floor. It's a welcome distraction from thinking too hard on his brother's departure for the moment. ]
I think it's clear who the winner was.
[ Him, he means. Him.
He rolls to his feet, shaking off the fall. The medical kits are kept all over the house, and it's a quick drop down the ladder, over the stair rail, and to the kitchen tile to fish out one of the kits from the island's drawers, letting Dick follow at his own pace. The town-home is spacious, an open-floor plan with plenty of room to maneuver, other windows boarded up and blacked out; evocative of the Batcave with the exception of the loft window bringing in large swaths of sun. ]