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spreadwardiard · 4 months

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The Rot (part 1)

In the dead of night, Orion Pax received a call from Megatron. Not knowing what was happening, but sensing the urgency in his companion's tone, Orion followed the instructions given. Unbeknownst to him, the Rot had already begun to spread.

I was super inspired by the My Little Pony Infection AU so had to try my hand at something like that, so I came up with this thing. I wanted to try my hand at some zombies. There is an BIG THANK YOU TO @lets-try-some-writing for all your encouragement and help! (sorry everyone, for keeping them so busy XDXD)

Part 2 Here

Orion woke slowly, the edges of consciousness still unable to grasp reality. The persistent pinging on his private comm link, however, was quickly forcing his processor to rouse from his dream state to deal with it. A part of him hoped that if He just ignored that ping long enough, it would cease, and he could slip back into his dreams. His wish was not granted.

The pinging continued, and finally he roused enough to note that he had only been in recharge for a couple of joor. It was well into the night, far beyond what would be considered polite to call someone. Orion groaned softly as his optics came online. He had always been one to recharge deeply and come online slowly. It was an unfortunate side effect of processing so much raw data for the Archives.

The pinging stopped and Orion sighed audibly in relief as he rolled over onto his side to try and drift back to his dreams, only for the pinging to resume abruptly. Obviously there was no escaping this. He sluggishly pulled himself into a seated position, and rubbed his optics slowly as he finally took note of the data attached to the caller: MDT-425-B-D-16.

Megatronus? That was odd. They had just spoken at length, right before Orion had drifted into recharge. Orion wondered what could possibly be so important that it couldn’t wait until he came online in the morning.

He accepted the call and put his best effort into sounding as if he were more awake than he actually was.

“Megatronus?” Orion inwardly flinched at how much he had failed in his efforts. His voice was deep, and slow in the way that only showed with exhaustion.

“Orion?” He heard some shuffling come across the connection, and he heard Megatronus mutter something under his venting, that sounded suspiciously similar to ‘thank Primus.’ He was about to open his intake to begin to jest at him for that, but Megatronus did not give him the time.

“I need you to listen carefully. In approximately two and a half groons, there’s a train coming directly to Kaon from Transport platform 3-5B. I need you on that train. Do not pack. Just get up and get on it.”

Orion frowned as he took in Megatronus’ words. This wasn’t making any sense.

“What are you-” But Orion couldn’t finish his question. Megatron cut him off with urgency.

“There’s no time for questions. I promise, I will explain everything when you get here.” Something was wrong. Orion’s tanks churned with unease. “Promise me that you will get here, Orion.”

He didn’t have time to think, his legs were moving without his conscious consent, pulling him out of the comfort of his berth and into the unforgiving chill of his apartment. “I promise, Megatronus. Please, tell me what this is about.”

“I wish I could. There isn't time.” Orion paused only for a klik with his servo hovering in front of the access panel to his door. He was still largely trying to wake up. Hardly any of this was making sense. He half wondered if he was recharge-walking and this was all a bizarre dream, but Megatronus continued to speak. “I love you, Orion.”

“I love-” the distinctive click of a comm being dropped slapped him in his audials. “-you too…”

Orion was suddenly left with an agonizing silence. He felt too alert for this to be a dream, and yet none of what was happening made any sense. He locked the door behind him and sluggishly made his way down the long hall of his building towards the elevator.

Megatronus said he had two and a half groon to get to the station. As the elevator lowered him down to ground level, he did the calculations in his head to determine if he could make it there on pede or if he’d have to use his alt mode. As long as he didn't stop, he should be able to make it. Using his alt mode would take up too much energy anyway.

Orion rubbed his optics once again as the elevator dinged, and he stepped off and out into the street. The air was cool against his plating, a sensation that he normally welcomed as it aided him in recovering from his recharge cycles. This late into the night, however, the chill left him wanting to turn around so that he could crawl back into his berth and nestle himself in the warmth of his thermal sheets. His pedes continued to take him towards the station, despite his desire for more rest. He had promised Megatronus, after all.

It wasn't an especially long walk to the station: he just had to take a left three blocks down by the local pub, and then a right two blocks from there. The route was as familiar to him as his route to the Archives, by this point, which was an excellent excuse for him to allow his frame to fall into auto-pilot mode to get him there. It took up much less of his energy that way, and would allow him to stay firmly planted in his half daze between being fully alert and slipping into recharge. If he could maintain it then he'd be able to slip right back to his dreams as soon as he sat on the train. The thought brought a smile to Orion’s face.

If he recharged on the train, he would be fully ready to come online just before they reached Kaon. He’d be rested and fully ready to tackle whatever issue had come up that Megatronus required his assistance with. It was the perfect plan… if this wasn’t all a strange dream, that is. If he had dreamt up this entire encounter, then he would at least be able to claim a surprise visit.

The further down the sidewalk his pedes took him, the more he was convincing himself that this was a dream. Megatronus’ call had been eerily similar to the one he had had just a deca-cycle ago. The Megatronus in his dreams had used the guise of urgency to lure Orion to kaon for a romantic date that had started with dinner and ended in the fantastical way that dreams tend to do, with them dancing together amongst the stars themselves.

Orion was pulled from his memories by a shrill, yet far off scream. He paused in his steps as his finials twitched, to try and locate the source of the sound. Wherever it had come from, it was far from his location. There was no time to investigate, and it was highly probable that the situation was already being dealt with by Iacon’s dutiful Enforcers. Even so, he found that it put him a bit ill at ease.

With quickened pedesteps, Orion continued his trek and felt slightly more at ease once he rounded the corner by the pub. He’d never gone inside, but it was a well known landmark in his neighborhood, where many mechs would congregate at the ends of their shifts to unwind. It was strange to see it this late at night with no music or boisterous laughter emanating from within its walls. The audial absence made the area feel cold, and lifeless. Unwelcoming. That is what it felt like when the streets were silent and the city largely in recharge.

At least the station wasn’t much farther. Once he got on the train, he’d be able to relax and the odd foreboding feeling that comes from walking alone in the dark would pass. He’d be able to slip back into his dreams, and he and dream space Megatronus would dance amongst the stars to pass the lengthy journey. It was a perfect plan.

He could already see the welcoming lights at the front of the station, and he hurriedly crossed the street, a bit more eager than he expected to be to step into a well lit area. The station was nearly deserted, but that was to be expected at this late time of the night. That was fine by him, that only meant that the line to purchase a ticket would be as well.

Orion was not disappointed. There was only one mech in line, and by the time Orion’s pedes got him there, it was already his turn.

“Archivist Pax, its-zzz great to see you again. Heading out to Kaon again? There’s a train about to leave.” The mecha behind the glass was smiling at him, but Orion couldn’t help but notice the viscous optical lubricants leaking slowly from the mech.

“Ah, that’s right. Can you add my designation to the roster, or am I too late for that?” The service mech raised his servo in a polite gesture. Orion had always been on friendly terms with the mechs at this station. He valued their hard work and commitment to getting everyone where they needed to go, and he tipped them well once he received his bill at the end of each stellar cycle.

“Anything for you, Archivist Pax. There we go… You’re all set to go. Better hurry, you’re cutting it a little close.” Orion uttered a quick and polite thank you as he turned towards platform 3-5B.

The whistle blew loudly, and Orion cursed softly under his venting as he started to run. He’d come too far to have to turn around now. The service mech was absolutely correct in that he was cutting it close. The doors shut immediately after he boarded the front compartment, and he allowed himself a heavy sigh of relief as he took his seat towards the middle, giving him plenty of space between him and the other passengers. He only jostled slightly as they began moving.

He already knew that slipping back into recharge would be impossible. After that eerie scream and then having to run, he had fully entered wakefulness. The trip would take about four joors. If he was lucky he’d be able to recharge for half of that now and there was no way he’d be able to slip into a romantic dream again, after how strange everything had been since he’d been ripped from recharge.

It wasn’t normal for Megatronus to call him like this, outside of his dreams, of course. He’d been too tired before to really think about it, but now that he was awake… Megatronus had sounded less urgent and more concerned. He sounded worried…

A loud groan shook him from his thoughts, and he glanced towards the front of his compartment, towards a mech that looked as if he were about to be sick. He had his helm between his knees, and the mech beside him had a servo on his shoulder. They must have been some of the last patrons of the pub, probably on their way back to their work duties.

Orion looked back to the ground between his own pedes. It was rude to stare, and he had other things to think about anyway. Like the strange tone Megatronus had on that call. How he had made Orion promise that he would make it to Kaon… how he had said that he loved him….

Megatronus never expressed his affections in such an open manner, especially over spoken comms. They had already agreed that they would put their romantic attachments on hold until after they were able to plead their case to the Senate. There was too much at stake to be distracted by their feelings for each other.

A heavy, twisting feeling began to settle in Orion’s tanks. Something must be wrong. Megatronus had said there wasn’t time to explain, but Orion had nothing but time now. He accessed his contacts, and set up a secure, private line, opening a comm link to Megatronus, ready to get to the bottom of this.

………………ERROR 638aaaaaaaa:: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH LINK………….

That… was strange. What was going on? Had Megatronus blocked his commlink? That made no sense, especially after that cryptic and worrying last call. Perhaps Megatronus’ private line had been hacked? It was unlikely, but possible. He could try calling Megatronus’ public line, but that had its risks as well… He tried the private line again.

………………ERROR 638aaaaaaaa: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH LINK………….

Perhaps trying the public line would be the way to get through. He had to sort this out, or he’d be an anxious mess this entire trip. He vented deeply, preparing himself for an audial full for not using the secure line to call but…

………………ERROR 638aaaaaaaa: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH LINK………….

That unsettled weight in his tanks surged. This wasn’t normal. Was Megatronus alright? Had something happened to him? Was that concern and worry in his voice because he’d been fatally injured? Orion felt himself begin to spiral, and couldn’t stop himself from immediately trying to reach Soundwave next. The two weren’t exactly close, but Soundwave knew of he and Megatronus’ arrangement, and thus would understand Orion’s concern.

………………ERROR 638aaaaaaaa: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH LINK………….

Orion then recalled the audible click that had cut him off and ended his previous call. He’d assumed Megatronus had simply ended the call a bit prematurely, having said what he felt he needed to say. But now… Had comms gone down?

A harsh retching drew Orion’s attention back to the drunken mech in the front of the compartment. He looked up just in time to see him purge his tanks of a thick, lumpy, viscous dark green goop. The mech beside him groaned in disgust, but immediately leaned in to assist his companion. “Get the frag-zzz away from me!” The drunken mech half yelled and half slurred.

Orion didn’t stick around to see what the outcome would be. He was unarmed, and barely armored. He couldn’t afford to lose his life in a drunken brawl when he and Megatronus were finally making progress with their movement.

Orion made his way to the back of the compartment, and quietly slipped through the door, intent on making his way to the rear of the train, as far from this scuffle as possible. He passed by the security station in the middle of the train, and informed them of the problem that was brewing in the first compartment. They quickly thanked him, and they parted ways.

By the time he made it to the last compartment, he was ready to slump into the closest seat he could find. If he was perfectly honest… That was disturbing. He’d spent a lot of time with Ratchet, and had gone over his fair share of medical data. He was no medic, but he definitely knew that purging your tanks wasn’t supposed to look… like… that.

He’d never seen anything like that before. But maybe Ratchet had? If it was something medically significant, Ratchet would want to know what he saw. Yes, comms to Kaon were obviously not working, but Ratchet should still be reachable.

………………ERROR 638aaaaaaaa: UNABLE TO ESTABLISH LINK………….

Orion’s spark pulsed in anxiety. In all his life, he’d never had this happen. Something was wrong. He should have picked up on it immediately, as soon as Megatronus had called him. He should have especially known after that admission of love. Now that he replayed the conversation over in his processor, Megatronus had sounded afraid.

A spark-freezing scream tore him from his thoughts. That… came from the front end of the train. A tremor of fear rang through him, and he quickly got up from his seat to engage the locking mechanism on the door of his compartment. Before he could return to his seat, his audials were assaulted by the screech of brakes ripping into the tracks and the explosive groan of metal crunching against metal. He didn’t even have time to brace himself before he suddenly was airborne.

And then Orion’s entire world went black.

#spreadwardiardfics #infection AU #tfp alternative universe #maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #pre war cybertron #zombie apocolypse au #body horror #cliffhanger #megaop #megop #megorion #MLP 🤝TF #i was inspired by the mlp infection AU #fanfiction #The Rot AU

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lets-try-some-writing · 4 months

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Death and Gifts

Death has existed since time untold, but now with mortal friends, he has found himself in a bit of a pickle. Having been introduced to the concept of repayment, he now feels the need to return the kindness his friends have offered.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for everyone involved, Death pays his debts in full.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Death, or rather Orion Pax, was familiar with the concept of an exchange. Shanix was traded for resources or goods, life was traded for death, and knowledge was traded for service. He knew this, but he eventually came to a rather startling realization upon going through a series of datapads on mentality.

According to what he read, relationships were also a form of exchange. In a relationship of any sort, both parties were to give and take in equal exchange. Service was to be repaid in some way, shape, or form. Emotional care was to be provided in turn, and friends were meant to create bonds through a series of debts to one another in the form of attention, time, and service. To Orion, it was a wakeup call and prompted a severe misunderstanding.

Throughout his entire stay in the mortal plane, he had been receiving the time, attention, and service of his companions. He had been unintentionally indebting himself to them, and at this point, he was swimming in things that needed to be repaid. Ratchet gave knowledge and care freely, and that needed to be repaid as soon as possible. As did Megatron's dutiful companionship. There was much to do, and so Death prepared to repay that which was owed... in his own unique way.

Ratchet was his first and oldest companion. As such, Orion began devising ways to repay him first. Ratchet made his life easier and gave him understanding, Orion could do the same in turn. Thus, over the course of a few weeks, Death began to dig into Ratchet's history, connections, and prospects. The medical student had a few... blotches in his social life that Orion frowned upon seeing. An overenthusiastic ex, a corrupt higher up refusing Ratchet the title of doctor, and a bully who harassed his friend on the daily. Death does not usually pick favorites, but when it came to his friend and his debts, he was willing to compromise.

He spent what time he could with Ratchet, trying to return the emotional support through actions. And when he wasn't otherwise engaged, he put pieces in motion. He couldn't directly do anything, not without making his siblings upset. But setting up scenarios that would lead to death were not exactly off limits. So long as he wasn't there or forcing the death to happen, he wasn't responsible. So what if that one unfortunate ex got into a bad crash? He could have avoided it if he'd tried harder and paid attention. Why should it bother Death that a corrupt doctor overdosed on recreational drugs? The mech was living on borrowed time anyway. The bully ended up being arrested? Well isn't that unfortunate.

Ratchet did not grieve much, and Death was there with him all the way. He still had debts to repay, and Ratchet was worth so much more than being a mere Doctor. Perhaps it was a bit of bias, but Orion couldn't help but pull a few strings. Sometimes the corrupt needed to fall ill to make way for those who were far more suited to the roll. If Ratchet gave Orion a few side glances after he was suddenly promoted to the role of CMO, neither of them acknowledged it.

Ratchet: That mech... did you kill him?

Orion: I am forbidden to directly intervene in the affairs of your kind.

Ratchet: Did you cause this to happen?

Orion: You have been kind to me, you have given me much. It is a debt I will repay.

Ratchet: Orion, please, you don't need to-

Orion: You are of my chosen. Your purpose far exceeds those of the lesser.

Ratchet: You aren't like this. You don't usually have an opinion on anything, at least not like this.

Orion: It was, and it is still not permitted. But I will not allow that which was offered to go unrepaid.

His debt was nowhere near paid, but Orion had little else he could do. HIs friend was soaring high, and so in a bit of desperation, he focused on the rules to see what else he could possibly effect. Direct intervention was out of the question, but perhaps he could give a gift.

It wasn't against the rules to simply remove a block within a mech.

Death smiled when Ratchet found himself with an uncanny ability to sense death before it arrived. The doctor was able to solve cases before they reached a breaking point and determine a cause of death effortlessly, seemingly without any explanation. Ratchet chalked it up to his own skill, and Death grinned as he turned to his next set of debts.

Jazz was next, but for Death, he was hard to fully place. Jazz was an odd one, and repaying debts with him would be difficult. Jazz's situation did not allow for mecha to perish unfortunately. He was in too delicate of a position for that to happen and not harm him. But Orion could give him information. That much he could do. Jazz was an agent, a spy for the Council. Death dug through every case Jazz was involved in with fanatic determination, and once he had everything prepared, he began his work.

Cold cases were suddenly given new evidence as Death searched for the dead within the Allspark and questioned them. Information Jazz could not reach was put before him on a silver platter as mecha with the details found themselves incapacitated by unfortunate accidents. Those who hunted his friend were quickly silenced, not through supernatural means, but through blackmail Orion had from the Archives. To top if all off, Death gifted his friend an ability. When Death came to fallen, they trusted him instinctually. They knew what he was. To Jazz he gave a lesser version of the same gift, merely accentuating Jazz's already powerful charisma with a touch of the calm of the void.

Jazz noticed, but he said nothing. Death merely smiled.

Megatronus was not difficult to repay. Death merely began rigging things in his favor. Well, not necessarily rigging. But the odds tipping ever so slightly in his Champion's favor were not against the rules. Who was ever going to concern themselves with a blade sliding off Megatronus's armor and shattering instead of piercing. Bad craftsmanship had its effects after all. Who would be anything except awed when old wounds healed perfectly and Megatronus returned to the arena without issue? The Champion made all sorts of money for his sponsors. His success was theirs.

Orion's siblings watched him in wrath, further tightening his reigns. But Death would not halt. He could not gift abilities as obvious as he had to Jazz and Ratchet, but it was not out of the question to give Megatronus a more intimidating aura. All it took was for Death to touch him once every few cycles, and Megatronus would carry the stench of death wherever he walked. His foes feared him, and Orion laughed lightly as he watched their terror firsthand. It was not a gift, merely his presence having its effect. His siblings could not punish him for that.

Prima: You cannot keep doing this Thirteen. You are stepping beyond your bounds.

Death: I am following the rite.

Vector: You are not. Your influence has expanded beyond the limits set in place for all Primes. Continue down this path, and we shall be forced to step in.

Death: What must I do to gain the ability to expand?

Micronus: There is no-

Onyx: Expand. Grow.

Prima: Onyx enough!

Onyx: He has the right to know. We have known since the children of Primus walked the world. To keep him in the dark is cruel.

Death: What do you know?

Onyx: The rite forbids that I speak plainly, but continue as you are, and soon enough your reach will expand. The children of Primus are eager to believe.

Death considered the words of his peers, and ultimately he elected to follow Onyx's advice. He was Death, he was allowed to act as he saw fit, at least to a degree. He would obey the rites and rules, but if the children were in danger... well, rules were made to be broken on occasion.

Soundwave was the last on his list, largely because he was Megatronus's favorite. Death looked upon him and decided against any action, instead opting to give a simple gift to repay his debts. Soundwave stalked the halls, and Death dragged him into the shadows. It was for a brief moment, but when he released the spymaster and met his gaze back in the normal plane, Soundwave shakily got to his pedes, and Death smiled again. He enjoyed smiling. Such a silly thing, but one that held so much meaning.

"This gift I have given to repay my debts. The void now knows you, it has tasted your frame. Do not linger long within its grasp, but it welcomes you, should you wish to traverse the dark paths."

He left quietly, and Soundwave for his part shook like a leaf. The work was done, and now Death had largely repaid his debts.

However if a few particularly devoted mailmecha found themselves avoiding trouble and injury with surprising grace, then who were they to judge? Death would repay his debts, regardless of the outcome.

Megatronus, Ratchet, and Jazz were all very much aware that Orion had done something to them, but by the time they came to understand their new gifts, they opted not to ask. Whatever Orion was, he was old, and he was powerful. No longer was he a spark eater in disguise or some old monster. Rather, he had to be a Quintesson or a creation of them. There was no other explanation, not unless one wanted to begin believing in fairy tales about Primes and their power.

Death, oblivious to it all, continued merrily while quite content to have finally "made things right."

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #orion pax #megatronus #ratchet #jazz #soundwave #death's embrace au #alternate universe #pre war cybertron #slight cosmic horror I guess #idk what to label death being death

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nana-doodles · 8 months

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This picture took forever to finish, but this idea was from my good friend Laikkadventures!!! This is for you!

TFA season 4 cancellation tapes- The Jet Twins.

(The tape begins with static before cutting to two twin autobots, Jetfire and Jetstorm roaming the dark abandoned warehouse. They're speaking to each other, however the audio is distant, with only a few words being audible. Those words were: Searching. Suspect. Offline. Optimus.

The twins decide to separate in the hallway, and Jetfire goes out of view as Jetstorm continues his search. Just out of nowhere, the camera begins to move towards Jetstorm, however his back is turned so he is unaware. Once the camera is a foot away from Jetstorm, Jetstorm finally turns around just as a metal pole makes contact with the top of his head, and the screen cuts to black. The screen then cuts to Jetfire attempting to run away, but quickly being overpowered and the screen cuts to black once more. Now only audio plays, a loud buzz followed by screams is heard before the audio cuts. After a moment of silence, words appear on screen that read: inseparable.

The screen then cuts to the two twins now bolted together as purple liquid seeps from them. Words appear on screen that reads: Won't you play with them? The tape then cuts to black and ends.)

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tanema123 · 26 days

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I warned you that angst was coming!!!

This is for the prompt challenge with @katy-l1988

Carmilla has just arrived at the scene. Tears immediately started to fall from her face as she collapsed on the ground. She was too late. Too late to save them. Why.... Why has this torture befallen her!

Suddently, she felt someone aproaching. She turned around to see the angels. Anger filled her veins. She felt her body shift. Something was changing. Her hair fell as her feathers started to grow on her head. Her arms were slowly getting covered as well. She screamed in pain as her legs started to shift, making her shoes fall of her feet. Her fingers dug into the ground leaving claw marks in their wake.

None of this pain can componsate what she is feeling. As her mind slowly slipped away, the last thing she remembered was the terror in angels eyes and the flashes of her fallen daughters and husband. Carmilla Carmine has lost herself.

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boomstixx · 27 days

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EXAMPLES OF ART:

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mean-bf777 · 3 months

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Reunited AU & Human Uni: (Transformation art)

"GORIOUS TRANSFORMATION"

❗❗❗ABSOLUTE TW❗❗❗

(EXTREME AND HEAVY GORE AND BLOODS, PAINFUL AND AGONIOUS WEREWOLF TRANSFORMATION, EXTREME AND PAINFUL VIOLENCE, LOUD ANIMALISTIC SCREAMS, FLASHING LIGHTS, HORROR THEMES)

Feat: Galaxstars Weredom (Human!Weredom [Pre-triggered wolf form → Full wolf form transformation)

#among us #among us oc #oc #art #my art #humanized version #reunited au #human uni #alternate universe #gore lover #heavy gore #cw: gore #werewolf #transformation #process #original character #horror

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saritamanyalu · 1 year

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I can feel your heartbeat, human.. - Sunder

A special gift for @velvetblackjack Crosshairs is hiding from a creature who is chasing him, but he needs to be quiet or the thing will get him.

Sunder (c) Hasbro

#sunder #Crosshairs #gift #gift for a friend #ms paint #malignal #alternative universe #transformers #humanformers #transformers aoe #digitalart #warning: blood #horror

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eemoo1o-animoo · 2 years

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Somewhere, in an alternate universe, Grelle Sutcliff wears blue

#and drinks tea #the horror #and we’ll name her grelle sutwagon #why? because that came to my head instead of another word for ‘cliff’#grelle sutcliff #grell sutcliff #black butler #kuroshitsuji #alternate universe #white butler universe?#is that a thing?#like everything’s just the opposite #THE OVERGIVER #ciel anthill lol #like the shattered glass tv trope like in transformers #shattered glass #opposite universe

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muse-of-the-multiverse · 30 days

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Verses

Main Verses

Transformers Animated

Rebecca was born in England to loving parents and had a good childhood, perhaps even a little sheltered since her parents had been protective of her, sadly when she was fourteen her parents passed away from a terminal illness and she ended up living with her cousin since she could not stay at the apartment she had lived in her whole life. However, when she turned eighteen, she discovered that her parents had left money in a savings account that had been saved up for a number of years, and because she was eighteen she was able to have access to it. So she decided to use the money to leave England and start a new life in the city of Detroit, Michigan, and ended up working alongside Professor Sumdac.

Transformers Bayverse

Transformers Cybertron

Rebecca was born in England to loving parents and had a good childhood, perhaps even a little sheltered since her parents had been protective of her, sadly when she was fourteen her parents passed away from a terminal illness and she ended up living with her cousin since she could not stay at the apartment she had lived in her whole life. However, when she turned eighteen, she discovered that her parents had left money in a savings account that had been saved up for a number of years, and because she was eighteen she was able to have access to it. So she decided to use the money to leave England and start a new life in Colorado in the United States, becoming friends with Coby, Lori and Bud.

Doctor Who

Rebecca was born in England to loving parents and had a good childhood, perhaps even a little sheltered since her parents had been protective of her, sadly when she was fourteen her parents passed away from a terminal illness and she ended up living with her cousin since she could not stay at the apartment she had lived in her whole life. However, when she turned eighteen, she discovered that her parents had left money in a savings account that had been saved up for a number of years, and because she was eighteen she was able to have access to it. So she decided to save the money to buy a nicer apartment in London and getting a job at Torchwood, thus encountering not only the Daleks and Cybermen, but The Doctor too.

Pacific Rim

Rebecca was born in England to loving parents and had a good childhood, perhaps even a little sheltered since her parents had been protective of her, sadly when she was fourteen her parents passed away from a terminal illness and she ended up living with her cousin since she could not stay at the apartment she had lived in her whole life. However, when she turned eighteen, she discovered that her parents had left money in a savings account that had been saved up for a number of years, and because she was eighteen she was able to have access to it. So she decided to save her money for now and instead enrolled in university to learn about Engineering, which led to her being able to get a job at the London Shatterdome doing repairs or maintenance on the Jaegers.

Little Shop of Horrors

Rebecca was born in England to loving parents and had a good childhood, perhaps even a little sheltered since her parents had been protective of her, sadly when she was fourteen her parents passed away from a terminal illness and she ended up living with her cousin since she could not stay at the apartment she had lived in her whole life. However, when she turned eighteen, she discovered that her parents had left money in a savings account that had been saved up for a number of years, and because she was eighteen she was able to have access to it. So she decided to use the money to leave England and start a new life in New York, however the rent in the city was becoming too expensive and had to downgrade by moving to an apartment in Skid Row and applying for the job at Mushnik's Florist Shop.

Crossover

A Crossover with another fandom.

List of AUs I'm willing to do:

Vampire AU - Where my Muse is a Vampire, this would be for a Van Helsing roleplay.

Child AU - Where my Muse is a child (no romance).

Cybertronian AU - Where my Muse is a Cybertronian instead of a human, this would be for a Transformers roleplay.

Time Lady AU - Where my Muse is a Time Lady, this would be for a Doctor Who roleplay.

#[🎵 Blue Speaks 🎵]#verses #transformers #doctor who #pacific rim #little shop of horrors #van helsing #crossover #alternative universe

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madamealtruist · 2 months

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WRITING COMMS OPEN

Hey, guys, Gwen here! With certain events having sadly reared their ugly heads, I am in dire need of some extra cash. So what am I doing? I'm opening commissions! Albeit, I'll be selling written work and not design work since I still lack any real visual artistic skills. But, my writing skills are still sharp, so I hope you'll be ready to see what I have to offer! But first I'd like to lay out a few ground rules!

I have the right to refuse any commission in violation of these rules. So, PLEASE respect and read them!

RULES

No graphic sex scenes. This includes heavy topics that I will not name at this moment.

No hate speech. Racial slurs or remarks against any groups of individuals will not be written in my stories.

If you want to have your story have gore, please tell me the amount of it you want in it. I cannot stress this enough, as I want to ensure you are comfortable with your results.

Payment will be made via PayPal.

I'm new to commissions, so please bear with me if I make errors.

WHAT I'LL WRITE

Fantasy/Science Fiction/Science Fantasy

Horror/Slasher

Action/Adventure

AUs that differ from existing material/reinventions of existing material

WHAT I WON'T WRITE

Porn/Fetish

Nonfiction Drama

AUs/Fanfiction that makes little to no change from existing material

Assistance with Homework Assignments

Alright, with the ground rules all settled, let's move on to prices. Keep in mind, that I will be using flat prices, so don't worry about having to pay per hour. Moreover, I'll be offering typical story writing, so if you want me to write a short story, or help out with a longer series, I can do that. I'm also offering special assistance sessions for writers who have ideas in mind but might need a helping hand in fleshing out said ideas for their stories.

BASE STORY OPTIONS

Small Work (Less than 1,000 words): 30 USD

Large Work (Over 1,000 words): 45 USD

Longer Projects: 25 USD per chapter

SPECIAL ASSISTANCE SESSIONS

Character Creation: 20 USD

Worldbuilding: 50 USD

Plot Assistance: 35 USD

EXAMPLES

SHORTER WORK

LONGER WORK

CHARACTER CREATION

WORLDBUILDING

If you've read this far, congratulations! You're ready to begin! Now, if you'd like any examples of my writing, feel free to ask me over at my Discord (thegrimoiresvoice) and we'll be in business. I look forward to working with you all and hope to see you soon!

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bamsara · 10 months

Note

Have you seen cannon Eclipse yet?? Will Ruin be effecting how you portray them in SL?

(Ruin spoilers) Long post!!! Sorry I rambled klsdhglksd plus I pulled out some of my older art so it's a bit of a ramble post about Eclipse and how I write/draw them / the duality of man (robot) / and SL's AU universe

Most likely not since a fully-booted-up Eclipse in SL wouldn't be too terribly different from what I could work with coming from Ruin. I've already made several art pieces and writing drafts about the 'scary looking but sweet' Eclipse type more than the murder murder murder scary kill kind having to do with the virus's invovlement, so I think this developement is actaully pretty steller for me

Not to say my Eclipse won't be a bit more intense than what was shown in the DLC, but I think it still works out

I mean Look at my doodles and writings of Post-Solar Lunacy Eclipse and how they act: you've got your spooky behavior that comes from Five Nights At Freddy's being a horror game + based off of the DCA's behavior + general alternate universe junk :

and then your silly goofy:

I've always adored the Duelity of Man (Robot)

So basically: Ruin DLC will probably not affect how I write Eclipse at all because from the short few lines we got from them kinda already alligns with how I see Eclipse behaving, at least Post - Solar Lunacy. Sweet boy.

Eclipse's dialect is a bit different in the ruin dlc then how I've had it planned but I think that's okay too, considering how I had their dialect/manner of speaking pretty down similar to how Sun & Moon were speaking in the DLC at least (the short sentences, phrases, occasionally long ones) although this is kinda just a writing flow choice / au character interpretation thing that's a personal preference, since I personally have Moon less verbal than Sun and Sun a lot more talkative in my fics than even the og Sun in Security breach.

Appearance wise? Nothing really changes! The hat and sunrays combo can switch inbetween having a hat or just having sunrays (like how arcade game Eclipse just has sunrays, but character model Eclipse has Moon's hat) and it really just depends on the scene and/or if the DCA was already wearing the nightcap as Eclipse makes an appearance.

I'm keeping the four-arms deal. Best thing the fandom came up with and love it when they do that for characters. Insert 'i just think its neat' image here.

Solar Lunacy has been and still is a AU universe so like said before, some aspects of canon are choosy to whatever I think makes a good entertainment story and all, so not too worried about sticking to canon all that much. Yippie for transformative and creative expression!

THAT BEING SAID, I absolutely fucking adore the glimpse of personality we got from the few scenes of canon Eclipse in the Ruin DLC and it fits an idea of character in my head for them, so I won't really need to divert from the original draft too much for Eclipse!

I'm really happy ahh!!!!

#Solar Lunacy #writings #<< for reference #doodles #ruin spoilers

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sweeneydino · 8 months

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Welcome to my humble abode.

🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈 lgbtq+ safe space.

Surprise.

Ignore the soda cans and crumbled pieces of paper, never really got the chance to clean that up.

I am proud to announce a master post that I will likely never use!

Yes, I know, very useful.

It will collect dust just like all of my other projects and dreams.

Archive of Our Own (AO3) Fanfics

Lime meets emerald

Spikeangelo

Comics

Weapons of Hamato [1]

Alternate Universe Shenanigans

Spikeangelo AU!

Au idea | Titan

Spikeangelo Asks!

Transporters don't act like they do in Space Heroes Leo! (TSHL) [CW: BODY HORROR]

Au Idea

Mold

Weapons of Hamato

Au Idea

New Friend [Part 1]

The Good Father

Au Idea | Rat Dads in New York

Grown Up Don

Future Menace

Past Remembrance / PT.2

Paper Scales/ Little Dragons [CW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH]

LITTLE DRAGONS

Au idea | Explored

Splintering | Father's Day | Forgive me

Himbo | Uncle Mike

New Years | January 1st

DANGER | Forms of a Monster | Trouble

Tot adventures

Actual fucking dragons | Dai | Mura & Aoi | Akai | COLORS

Fanart: 🧡 🧡 💜

A FANFIC BY @/SHYADRI ON TUMBLR AGAIN THANK YOU SMH CHECK THEM OUT PLEASE 🙏 IDK IF I SHOULD @ THEM HERE SO PLEASE LOOK THEM UP THANK YOU

Collection of other Free-to-use AUS [CW:BLOOD/GORE]

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Honestly, a lot of my stuff is free to use. Just credit me is all I ask 😌

Animations

Shelldon's Daisy

Where is the pizza, Casey?

Give Splinter a break man

TAP

Sunrise Duo, but with a little red

Mystic Bab

Posers

Side Blogs

Mostly Sanic stuff with gay hedgehogs @lintandsteal

Stuff I scraped out of the bottom of my toilet @trashinyourpockets

A fair warning that although I draw A LOT fluff and baby turtles, I also draw(and sometimes write) whump, a lot of angst and gore/extremly violent art(those will be properly tagged in their own post).

My joy in drawing cute stuff must be counterbalanced.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #art #crossover #tmnt crossover #tmnt 2012 #main post #master post #links

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lets-try-some-writing · 3 months

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The Rot: Patient Zero

An infection is spreading across all of Cybertron and not a spark knows what is going on. Ratchet has been called upon to inspect patient zero to try and find the cause of all this. It ends as well as one might expect.

This is a little gift for my dear friend @spreadwardiard and their fantastic fic The Rot.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Where is the patient?” The datapad in Ratchet’s servo cracked as he clutched it a little too tightly. He cursed softly and strode forward with greater speed, First Aid scurrying alongside him.

“We have found several infected patients, but the one we are going to is in the far room, the most secure part of the facility.” First Aid supplied with a hint of worry in his voice. Ratchet hummed and looked over the datapad again.

Hundreds of reports of a strange virus infecting the lower levels had begun to spread like a wildfire. Every few kliks there was another ping and yet another designation added to the growing list of those infected with the virus. This was an outbreak, and it was growing worse at rapid speed. Ratchet had already given the order to close off the upper regions of Iacon, but the middle and lower levels were being overtaken by whatever this was.

They needed to understand it and find a cure fast. There had been no casualties yet, but Ratchet had seen the Rust Plague. He knew how quickly something so simple as a mere respiratory malfunction could turn deadly.

“We believe this is patient zero, correct?” Ratchet inquired as he passed by several holding cells where infected individuals were pacing mindlessly. Looking over them briefly, they seemed… lost. Their optics were hazy and their movements disjointed. Most were mumbling about nonsense, but there was a common theme that left a worrying fear nagging at the back of Ratchet’s mind.

“Hungry… need… energon.” Ratchet grimaced slightly as he passed by a particularly delirious patient. The mech was leaking oral fluids, seemingly without any care whatsoever. His frame seemed gaunt, almost emaciated. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Yes, the patient we are going to meet is indeed the one we believe to be the original carrier of the virus. He was at a bar at the time and the infection has spread from that location since. And while we do have enforcers down there trying to keep things in order-” First Aid fidgeted and stepped back hastily as one patient flew against the bars separating him from the hall. The patient’s face was the embodiment of madness, and his expression was lopsided, almost as though he’d had a spark attack and was still recovering.

“What do we know so far? What are the symptoms?” The mech gurgled worryingly as Ratchet grabbed First Aid by the arm and pushed on. First Aid stumbled for a moment before replying. Ratchet took care to not look at any of the patients in the optic directly. He hated keeping patients behind bars, but they were too dangerous to be interacted with.

“Severe hunger, madness, disorientation, mobility loss, and in the most severe cases, plating loss. It seems to be a degenerative virus that weakens the frame over time.” Ratchet nodded and passed First Aid the datapad as they approached a door. It was thick, black proof based on the structure of it. A wise place to keep patient zero.

“Give me a hazmat suit. I am not going in there just to catch whatever this is.” First Aid was quick to follow the given order and collected a suit from the nearby lockers. Within a klik, his apprentice was back by his side with the materials. Ratchet always hated the suites, but they were useful despite their appearance.

Neon green boots and leg coverings slid on first, kept in place by straps that were fitted over his shoulders. They dug into his seams, but with the covers coming up to his mid waist, there would be no risk of fluid getting near his exposed cabling or plating. Next came the gown with First Aid had to get a stool to help Ratchet get into. The thing was also disgustingly bright green and it fell over his helm without issue. Getting his arms into the sleeves was a nightmare with his arm guards, but he managed.

Gloves were strapped onto his wrists with tight bindings and the cuffs of his sleeves were tucked into the gloves just to be safe. As if he didn’t look ridiculous enough, the helm piece of the whole suit was quickly put into place. It was a relatively simple design. A draping helm cover fell down from his helm to his shoulders, held in place by straps under his chin. Then to top it all off, a cone shaped, almost beak like visor was slipped into place and locked on. The thing was almost entirely air tight, but there was plenty of room around his intake and optics so that he could run his air filtration systems without issue.

He looked like a hot mess, but he was ready. The bright purple mark of the medic stood proudly on his chest as he gestured for First Aid to step away and made his way through the door into patient zero’s containment chamber.

“You are… Springstep, correct?” Ratchet called out, his voice coming out somewhat staticy through the communicator built into his mask. The mech in front of him had his arms bound behind his back, a safety measure to ensure he didn’t hurt himself or any staff. If they were doing things properly or if they had more time, the mech would have been given better accommodations.

As it was, patient zero was simply too dangerous to be handled properly.

“Yes? You are… a doctor?” The mech questioned, his optics hazy and uncertain as he looked Ratchet up and down. Ratchet made a noise of affirmation and edged closer to examine the mech.

“I am. My designation is Ratchet.” Cautiously Ratchet shuffled forward until he was about a foot away from the mech. Springstep looked terrible just from a quick physical glance over. His complexion was awful, his facial protoform sunken in enough that it seemed as though it was stretched too thin. His frame was boney, his hips jutting out awkwardly almost as if he hadn’t had a decent fueling in stellar cycles.

According to his files, he had been perfectly healthy up until about three cycles ago. Such rapid loss of mass was highly concerning. Perhaps it was a parasite? That would account for the lack of nutrients in the patient. However, it did not rationalize why the virus was spreading so rapidly.

“Tell me how you are feeling and when your symptoms began to show themselves.” Ratchet ordered as he dutifully began running scans from a safe distance. Springstep was startlingly low on fuel. His systems were resorting to consumption of excess mass in order to keep functioning. There was no way a mech who was perfectly healthy mere cycles prior should have been suffering from third degree energon deficiency.

“Rotted… broken… my insides burn… my processor… all foggy… started down at the docks.” Springstep attempted to speak, but his glyphs were broken and disjointed. Ratchet grimaced beneath his mask. This mech wasn’t going to make it. Such severe speech impediments combined with his frame’s state did not speak positively of his chances of survival.

“Where by the docks did you encounter this virus? Do you know?” Ratchet continued his line of questioning even as he began sending pings back to the other medics outside.

[[Lock down the lower levels entirely. Priority individuals and essential workers are to be moved to the upper levels and secured immediately. Begin administration of hazmat suit instruction to all medical personnel. Not a spark is to be seen without a suit from this point onward.]]

“Don’t… know…” Springstep trailed off and Ratchet frowned. This was just like the Rust Plague, and yet so much worse all at the same time. The virus was spreading just as fast, but the effects were worse, or rather more intense. The rust killed a mech slowly through corroding their insides. Whatever this was worked at an accelerated rate and with incredible efficiency. It hadn’t even been three cycles and already patient zero was going to drop dead.

A lockdown was the bare minimum.

“Thank you Springstep. I will have one of my associates administer a sedative to help ease the pain-” Ratchet trailed off as Springstep lurched forward, his frame heaving as he purged green goo onto the ground. Springstep’s optics widened and cycled rapidly as he struggled. Ratchet knew that look, it was a sign of madness, the swift clarity before death that faded away into insanity.

He didn’t hesitate to turn around and run.

Time seemed to slow as he crashed into the door, hurriedly trying to punch in the code to exit as Springstep growled like a wild animal and snapped his restraints. Energon rushed from the mech’s wounds, but he was rapid as he skidded forward, no intelligence remaining in his gaze.

“STAY BACK!” Ratchet lifted an arm just in time for Springstep to collide with him. The mech’s jaw clamped down tight on his arm, denta digging deep and tearing through protective plastic sheeting. Ratchet winced as pinpricks of pain shot up his arm from where Springstep’s denta had dug into him. But he did not waste another moment in kicking Springstep to the ground and rushing through the door as it opened.

He couldn’t use his servos to hurt a patient, but no one said anything about his pedes.

“Sir! Are you alright!?” First Aid hurried forward, a welder in his servo. He was quick to begin welding the minor cut closed, and Ratchet allowed it. Once his apprentice was done, Ratchet sighed and pulled off his mask.

“I will be fine, but this is far worse than I thought. My orders still stand, but I want every sparkling in upper Iacon put in stasis for the time being. They won’t last more than thirty kliks under this virus.” First Aid nodded and began taking notes, but Ratchet did not wait around. His frame suddenly ached with exhaustion which he chalked up to having to beat a patient into the ground on short notice. It had been a long cycle of handling the situation. He needed rest. There wasn’t much he could do until his orders were implemented anyway.

[[This is a direct order from the CMO of Cybertron. The situation has been deemed a medical emergency for all of Cybertron. From now until the situation is dealt with, medical orders take precedence over all others. Comply or be removed from major cities effective immediately.]]

He groaned as his message was sent out to every mech of importance in Iacon. His helm pounded and he found he didn’t have the will to make the long march back to his hab. He had a work office nearby. He would stop by there and take a nap as he’d done plenty of times before.

“By the Allspark, this is bad.” He murmured as he arrived at his office and stepped inside. He hadn’t even bothered to remove the suit. His limbs felt like lead and his helm pounded so much that he could hardly see straight. This wasn’t good.

The bite on his arm burned and his very frame felt as though it were struggling to keep functioning. He hardly had enough time to close the door behind him before he fell to the ground, spark deep exhaustion pulling at him along with bursts of pain he couldn’t fight.

His optics flickered and he weakly tried to move, to do anything. His limbs would not obey him, and as he lay on the hard ground heaving, he wanted to curse. He should have known better than to march off as soon as he’d interacted with a patient. At the time he had just been so very- -tired.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #ratchet #first aid #infection au #zombie apocolypse au #The Rot au #pre war cybertron #alternate universe #body horror #legit an fantastic au that I am 100% on board with #I love it #transformers fanfic

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nana-doodles · 7 months

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A new threat is among you all within my twisted transformers Animated AU! However this one is original...

Meet Obsession, a way for Optimus Prime to reach the real world! Obsession was once a man in a mascot costume now turned into a mindless zombie infected by the corruption who does Prime's bidding from beyond the TV world!

He mainly roams around the mall late in the night after closing hours.

How he hunts is by merely shuffling around looking for any victims he could drag back to Optimus. He's not too quiet as his wet and squishy footsteps are very much... Audible, but don't be fooled. He can set traps to get you stuck, injured, or that can make noise, thus honing him in on your location.

You can avoid him by not triggering his traps, and just don't walk near him if you see him shuffling, he is MUCH quicker than you think he is...

Some say if you look close enough at the mask, you can see the face of the poor man...

Now for the tape...

TFA season 4 cancellation tapes- Obsession

(this tape isn't a tape made by the animators warning the others, rather this time, it's a journal entry. The way it sounds was as if it was made in private. This tape was found at the crime scene of (redacted) at the (redacted) mall. Not much is known about the victim (or at least what's left of him), he's male, 21 years old, and was found wearing a staff shirt for the channel, Nostalgia TV, it's unknown what he was doing in the mall this late, but it's clear what happened to him..)

(The audio tape begins: Dude I just saw the freaking mascot in the mall!!! Its midnight... The mall closed hours ago, and the whole transformers meet and greet event ended as well!... Shouldn't he be at ho- Wait... What is that black liquid leaking from the crevices in his suit?... Wait... That's not the mascot... Who on earth is that... He's coming towards me... Oh sh- (tape cuts and ends.)

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inhuman-obey-me · 10 months

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True Forms: Sides + New Characters

Once upon a time, long, long ago, we wrote some true demon forms for the demon brothers. And we had so much fun with it that we've returned with a follow-up! Now featuring not only demons but also some angels, a reaper, and one immortal "human" sorcerer.

No in-between forms for MC's sake this time though -- we die like men being driven mad by unspeakable, incomprehensible horrors.

Like before, content warning for unsettling, eldritch descriptions and body horror.

DIAVOLO

The Crown Prince of the Devildom doesn't often go into this true form -- it's incredibly dangerous, and if you see it, you might as well already be in your grave.

The first thing that hits you is the scent of sulfur and burning, so strong that you feel like you're choking on it, suffocating even though there's no smoke to be seen.

There is, however, plenty to be seen of him, as his form is utterly massive -- every direction you look, he seems to stretch infinitely around you, no end in sight to his immense presence.

To his sides, sparks and flashes of gold and darkness alternately flicker off of black flame wings as they languidly float back and forth behind him, singeing the very air they occupy.

The rest of his body mostly transforms into that of a dragon, much like the ornament you normally see upon his chest, covered in brilliant triangular golden scales except for the glowing red orb at his center.

The orb pulses like a heartbeat, and in it, you see yourself -- no, rather, you see a distortion of yourself, all the corruption and cruelty that hides in your very core laid bare before your eyes.

Meanwhile, fire roars everywhere, filling every open space around him and spiraling into a grand crown upon his head.

Despite the noise of the flames, however, his commanding voice can be heard clearly, a low rumble like the roar of a dragon yet distinctly regal and elegant in its tone.

On his chest, the black marks you see in his more humanoid demon form expand and twist outward, hypnotizing you as they wrap like vines around your body.

You hardly even notice as they capture you in a world of complete darkness -- darkness that overtakes not just your senses, but your mind, your soul, your whole existence, like a fire that burns away everything until there's nothing left in you but the abyss, all else turned to ash.

BARBATOS

To witness the true form of the ever loyal and capable steward to the Crown Prince of the Devildom, your fate is already sealed -- one of demise and ruin.

His body shifts and stretches, and stretches, and s t r e t c h e s -- you cannot see where, or if, he ever ends -- like time itself.

His body resembles that of a dragon -- though not the same of his master, but those creatures known across the human world as the lóng, the ryū, the druk, the nāga.

His face blurs, rots, melts -- bits of bone showing through flesh and one eye now just an orb of empty, everlasting black.

The spindly, web-like horns that grace his head grow thicker and longer, the talon-like ends even sharper than before.

Whiskers sprout from his face that are slick and forked at the ends, like his more humanoid-demon form tail, an electric buzz sparking at the end of them.

The scales along his body are black and teal, that familiar lightning pattern reflected in some while you catch glimpses of other universes as they gleam.

It is then that you notice you are slowly being buried in sand -- it cascades off his body, from the ridges in his back and gaps between those captivating scales.

Time itself seem to distort around him as he swims in the air, the very fabric of space rippling and warping against his form.

When he opens his mouth to roar, all that can be seen is a void of space inside, an all-consuming black hole.

There is an awfully maddening absence of sound, the very weight of silence seemingly suffocating and crushing you as you try to gasp for air.

The longer you stare into his face, his form -- the more you get lost and trapped across universes, seeing every branch of time lay itself out before you, over and over and over and over...

Your soul will be trapped forever in that endlessness, true death never taking hold as no reaper can ever reach you to claim it.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Every ghost story about haunted suits of armor originates from the true form of Mephistopheles.

In this form, he truly represents his noble heritage as proud knights tasked with defending the royal family -- grand, intimidating, gallant.

From afar, he seems exactly like those stories, an empty suit of golden armor with eerie peridot green lights glowing as eyes through the helm.

Atop this helm, a showy plume of magenta feathers swoops in a proud arc, and from his back, a grand set of opalescent, translucent feathered wings stretches impossibly wide.

Each flap of these wings creates torrential whirlwinds, tornadoes that tear destructively through entire cities in their path, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake.

Up close, however, it becomes clear that the armor is hollow because he is the armor -- though he usually keeps most of them closed for protection, eyes of green and magenta can emerge all over the gleaming metal plates.

Also dotting the plates are various gems and precious crystals, embedded throughout as if daring someone to come close enough to try to steal them, tempt them as demons so notoriously do.

Every movement, too, deafens with the cacophony of jewels crashing against coins, ringing out for miles and miles around him.

Looking upon this form always makes you feel slightly off, as though he's not standing quite straight, which in turn makes you feel slanted as if constantly slipping down sideways.

However, it's best not to look at all, as gazing upon him melts your flesh away to pools of thick, smooth black ink which indeed would make you slip and fall.

Before one would fully melt away, he opens up to consume any potential wearer of the armor, crushing them inside and using their bones to reinforce the strength of the metal.

Because of this, streaks of ink are always running down the seams where the armor opens, dripping endlessly in deep pools everywhere he goes.

LUKE

Before Luke descends as an angel, a soft smell of grassy sunlight fills the air, and you feel a gentle breeze pick up alongside you.

The sound of bells chimes softly as if rung by this breeze, though no bells can be seen.

Slowly, bursts of tiny stars shimmer into view as if creating a veil from which the angelic child steps forth.

Once he has appeared, the stars gather in small clusters, dancing around him as if engaged in a waltz.

Being a lower-ranking angel still, his form is generally humanoid and looks much like the Luke you know and love.

However, his shape looks more unstable at the edges, buzzing and shaking like a Chihuahua.

Though most of him is covered up by his Celestial garb, you notice eyes peeking out from between the folds, gazing up at you unblinkingly, staring right into your soul.

The eyes on his face, on the other hand, remain peacefully closed, as though you're looking upon a child asleep.

As he delivers his message, the scent of wheat and honey drifts from him, filling the air around you.

Although this form does no harm to you to look upon, you get the distinct feeling that you would fall into endless despair if you were to fail him.

Michael likes to send him to would-be runaways for this reason.

RAPHAEL

Though he may be the youngest of the seraphs, his form is no less grand and imposing.

You hear him before you see him -- the melody of a flute, a tintinnabulation, mixed with an enchanting voice singing words in a tongue you cannot comprehend.

Six large wings surround him, feathers light grey with the same iridescent sheen found on those of homing pigeons, spanning far and wide.

Where his face might be instead are twisting golden rings filled with eyes, swirling in a mesmerizing pattern that captivates you.

His arms, too, are made of a stack of metallic rings that mirrors armor, though no flesh resides within them, and interlock with the shapes of diamonds and spades.

Various chimes hang off like tassels at various points along those metallic arms, ringing endlessly.

In place of his torso is an opalescent crystal ribcage, though there are no organs for it to protect.

A number of spears, pointing downward and outward, fan around his bottom half, with needles circling golden thread around the spear "boning" -- making his bottom half resemble a cage hoop skirt.

Above the swirling rings of his face rests a halo, made up of floating spear tips, sharp and deadly.

And behind him, around him, are more rings that are linked in circles like an atom, so numerous that they are reminiscent of chainmail, all while swirling at dizzying speeds.

Surreal light emits from every element of his form -- every ring, every feather, every pointed end -- giving him an unsettling and ethereal glow.

Anger him in this form, and the mix of melodies becomes mind-numbingly discordant and cacophonous while numerous spears glisten with their sharp ends pointed towards you, ready to strike.

SIMEON

When Simeon was a seraph, his form shared a number of features with that of Raphael's: twisting golden rings for a face, an iridescent crystal ribcage, the stacks of rings for arms, and that surreal, unsettling light emitting from every element.

However, his form differed greatly as well -- his halo was actually an ouroboros, dotted with eyes peering into your very soul and lined with large, long spikes.

His six wings were not made of feathers but of fire, their flames a striking and dangerous blue -- four flanking his back, while the other two surrounded his head of twisting rings, protecting his face with their chaste embers.

His "legs" were composed of crystal shards, slowly twisting and catching the light to create a constant prismatic display.

Past the faint crackling of flames and metallic sonority, you could hear a soft and distant harp that lulled the senses.

His seraph form somehow evoked both a sense of serenity and a gnawing, unnerving sense of dread.

Since his demotion to archangel, however, his form is a bit different -- more telluric, more humanoid, with wings more traditionally white and feathery at his back.

The delicate music of the harp that used to accompany him is gone, now replaced by the brash announcement of trumpets.

His more exquisitely airy elements have become more earthen, those radiant crystal pieces composed now of jagged rock and gleaming metal instead.

So too do fragments of steel float around and over his right side, resting upon his shoulders like a cape flowing gracefully from shining pauldrons.

Drifting idly just past his fingertips, a sword rests across his form, long and thin, both a tool and yet inherently part of him, dancing easily at his command and always ready to strike.

Each metallic sliver is dotted with eyes, peering and watching over you, at once benevolent and yet you can feel them -- watching you, judging you, sharply observing every move you make.

Another eye watches as well, from above, gazing serenely from the center of a spinning seven-pointed star which serves as his head.

There are no other facial features to speak of, but the look in that single blue orb expresses all there is to understand.

Though his voice rings clear in your mind with any message he may have from above, you can see your fate clearly from the moment your eyes connect with his gaze.

THIRTEEN

As a reaper, there is no question of death's approach when Thirteen transforms into her true form.

You become aware of long, low bells in the distance -- for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

From the moment you hear that very first clang, you cannot move, an icy chill washing over you and leaving you frozen in place.

However, it is not fear that you feel, but instead an odd sense of peace that overtakes your mind and makes the world around seem distant and hazy.

All light fades from view except the eerie blue flame of the candle she carries in one hand, along with the vivid green fire that takes the place of one eye.

Through the flickering light, you can see where bones replace flesh -- a half jaw, a sharp cheekbone, a partially exposed ribcage.

Her other eye seems to become more reptilian in nature, scales surrounding her brow bone and the hollows of her cheeks, jagged and harsh.

Her teeth are sharp and large, the exposed jaw making it appear as if they are locked in a menacing grin.

Gauze wraps around her neck, dark ichor seeming to seep through it and drip onto her chest and into the hollow of her ribs.

She floats towards you, no legs to be seen as she rolls atop mist and fog that sprawls ever outward, reaching the edges of your vision.

Within that mist you catch a glimpse of fluttering iridescence -- butterflies, their wings part black and shining with opalescent darkness.

No longer does she wear the tattered black robes so often thought as the reaper's uniform -- instead, long pieces of black chiffon, tulle, and mesh twist around her form, giving the illusion of a cloak.

Long, sharp claws wrap around her scythe, its blade broad and keen -- but it shimmers in the light, its form malleable and able to transform into whatever the reaper so desires.

However she decides to capture your soul, the last thing reflected in your eyes will be the blue flame of the candle extinguished, its wax melted away with the end of your life.

SOLOMON

Hello, my adorable apprentice

What's wrong? Don't you recognize me?

It's me, Skeletiano Solomon

The true form of an immortal human sorcerer is...

Yeah this seems right

Right?

416 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 8 months

Text

Stargazer, Moonweaver, Net

Hey, you. Yes, you. Have you ever wondered, hey, what would it look like if @five-rivers, @jackdaw-sprite, @seaglass-skies, @datawyrms, and @akela-nakamura all worked together on a fic for Phantasy Phest? No? Too specific? Well, if you had, it would look exactly like this fic here.

AO3 link

Tags: Lost Time, The portal accident, Phantasy Phest 2023, Alternate Universe - Modern Fantasy, Fairies, Blood Drinking, Moths, Clockwork has low opinions of the Fenton Parents, Transformation, Body Horror, Danny gets to say Fuck

Word Count: 11,197

Fic continues after cut.

"Ohno. Oh, no, no no nooooooo."

The stars were bright tonight.

Danny could even see them from where he was at the edge of a large clearing, where the trees stopped to wreathe the base of a hill.

Unusually, Danny didn't care.

"Nooooo," he said again under his breath.

Danny pushed at the net again. It reeked of garlic and sage the same way his parents’ nets always did, and the cord was rough and knobbly between his fingers. They must have woven this one with something extra.

He needed to get out. But with his flashlight fallen somewhere he could barely see the net or where it might end.

His flashlight. Where was his flashlight? Danny crouched, and began to grope at the ground around him. It couldn't have rolled too far, right?

The net folded up into his face, scratchy and unexpected. Danny flinched back but kept going, moving his hands in a circle. They met dead leaves and earth, and more than once he touched slimy and wet things he hoped were slugs.

He didn't find anything that felt like a flashlight.

"Heck," said Danny.

He sat down on the ground. The damp seeped into his pants but at this point that was a distant concern.

Maybe he could just find the edge of the net. It was a net. It had an edge. And his parents weren't always great at traps.

Danny pulled the net hand over hand in one direction and stopped when he felt something thicker cross over an arm.

He groped at it. It felt like the edge. Or an edge. One side didn't have all the net stuff. With mounting relief he followed it with his fingers–and discovered that it was attached to an opening only about large enough to slip a hand through.

There wasn't a tie that he could feel.

He couldn't find any other holes in it.

The relief withered. He was caught, alone, in the dead of night, in one of his parents' stupid monster catching nets. Without a flashlight.

And his parents, at best, might find him in the morning.

"Heck," said Danny, again.

Then he remembered he was alone, deep in the woods in the middle of the night, and no one would hear him.

"Fuck."

If only, Danny thought a while later, he'd brought his pocket knife. Or literally any knife. Something sharp to cut through the ropes.

None of the rocks he could reach had worked, though that was probably a little because he still couldn't see much of anything. It was really hard to wear through rope when you were doing it with a rock, blind. And through a net.

He was cold. His butt was colder from sitting in the leaves earlier. He kind of wanted to do it again, as a measure of his suffering. He wanted to be home, dry, and warm even more.

Maybe he could just wait for morning. Maybe his parents would know the trap had gone off, and come to check it. Maybe they'd check it anyway. They were the town crackpots for a reason. They didn't just believe in fictional creatures, they did so enthusiastically and with the kind of prejudice that made them set net traps in the woods. For one of their own innocent children to get caught in when he was only trying to stargaze on a clear night before school started in a few weeks. See some constellations, spot a few meteors, maybe a handful of planets, that kind of thing.

Never mind that he’d maybe snuck out. Because he knew they’d freak out about him going into the woods alone. Because they believed in faeries.

Gosh, he hoped this didn't get back to Dash.

At least the stars were bright tonight.

He sighed and looked up, eyes automatically picking out familiar constellations. The Big Dipper was easiest, although finding the rest of Ursa Major was less familiar. All seven stars of Ursa Minor were easily visible, which again highlighted how good the seeing was. Then there were the other circumpolars. Draco, Cepheus, Cassiopeia… He could see the V of Andromeda, where it blended with Pegasus, and he could almost convince himself that–

An owl - he thought it was an owl - hooted somewhere nearby. He jumped, which had the side effect of reminding him that, yes, he was still in a net. He rubbed his shoulders and neck where they’d been rammed into the net. Straining against rope shouldn’t have felt like running into a wall, but he supposed he did have his weight on the bottom of it.

But he soon had other things to worry about than his parents’ irrational net design.

(Seriously, why was there enough room to stand up in this net? What were they even trying to catch? At first, he’d thought he could just walk away, back to town, even inside the net, but it was tied to something. Maybe one of the trees?)

Sounds started to rise up from all around the clearing. First the high-pitched chirr of crickets, then croaking, buzzing, and chirping. Small noises, from small things.

But with those small noises, Danny started to notice rustling and creaking and– Was that a dog howling or a wolf? Were there even any wolves here? He remembered a unit in science last year where the teacher talked about wolves going extinct in some states.

The stars were bright tonight. The woods around him? Not so much.

“People spend nights outside all the time,” he said out loud. The word probably would have been more impactful if they weren’t whispered. “All the time. People go camping and hiking and stuff for fun.” Never mind that they were usually more prepared to do so than Danny currently was. And that most of the time, they could decide to just leave and go home or get a hotel room if camping got to be too much for them. He continued, more loudly, “I just have to wait for morning. They’ll find me in the morning. And– and if they don’t, I’ll be able to see. I’ll be able to get myself out. I’ll be fine.”

If nothing ate him first.

No. No. That was– What out here could even eat him, anyway? Wolves, yeah, okay, but were there wolves? Still unclear. Bears? If there weren’t wolves, he doubted there were bears. He’d never heard of any bears out here, anyway. What else could eat a human who wasn’t, well, already dead? Cougars? That one school, a couple districts over, had a cougar for a mascot, didn’t they? That didn’t really mean anything, though. What else, what else… Feral pigs? Those were supposed to be invasive around here, weren’t they? Danny had kind of laughed at the idea of it in class, but, here, now, in the dark, was a different story.

He was pretty sure anything else was too small. So. Three things out of how many animals? Thousands? Yeah. Yeah, the odds of those three specific animals showing up to bother him were low. Yes. Nothing wrong with the math there. No siree.

(And the stuff his parents were worried about, the stuff they’d set this trap for, that stuff didn’t exist at all, so he didn’t have to worry about it. There were no werewolves, no chimerae, no hobgoblins, and definitely no fairies. Wasn’t even worth thinking about.)

A branch snapped. Then another.

He’d thought the owl was close, but this sounded closer. And those didn’t sound like small branches.

A deer? There definitely were deer here. Sam talked about deer resistant and repellent garden plants, sometimes. Deer could get big. Like, reindeer were huge, right?

It was dark under the trees, but by starlight alone Danny could still perceive a shadow moving among other shadows. Something tall. Something not shaped anything like a deer.

The shadow came closer.

Danny held his breath and shrunk down against the nearest tree. He couldn’t fight a bear. Not even when he wasn’t caught in a net.

"Hello."

"Hi," said Danny back, on autopilot.

Danny continued staring at the shadow for several more tense moments before it occurred to him that it had talked.

"Wait, you can talk?" Danny asked.

"It would appear so," said the shadow, and did not move. Now that Danny was looking and thinking rather than just freaking out, the shadow looked, well, pretty humanoid. Tall, sure, and wearing a long coat with a hood - or maybe a dress? And that could be long hair. Significantly less weird in the middle of the summer than a coat - but humanoid.

Human, he should say. Outside of, like, parrots, there weren’t a lot of other things that could talk. No matter what his parents said.

"Um. I'm a little stuck," said Danny.

"Really?" The shadow did not sound surprised.

"Can you, I don't know, cut the net loose? Please?"

The shadow hummed. "I think the more interesting question is why you're stuck in the first place. One does not frequently encounter those such as yourself in the woods so late at night."

Oh, wow. Danny could empathize with the curiosity. He really could. This was a weird situation to come across, and whoever this was, they must be just as confused as Danny. But he also really didn’t want to explain anything about this to a stranger. And he would really rather be out while talking to what was, yet again, a complete stranger.

… Humans were pretty dangerous themselves, come to think of it.

“Yeah, I guess not.” He swallowed. “Why are you out here, anyway?” Maybe he was being rude, but the shadow had asked first.

The shadow shifted, looking up. Starlight limned pale skin and a sharp, straight nose in shades of gray. “The stars. The sun is too bright during the day. It is easier to see them at night.”

“Oh,” said Danny. Maybe, hopefully, not a murderer, then. Just another person out stargazing. A weird person but… Danny didn’t exactly have room to talk. “Yeah. Me, too. Since the moon isn’t up and all. I just, uh, ran into this. Trap. Thing.” He tugged at the net. “And now I can’t get out.”

The shadow’s head tipped back down. “Can’t you?”

“I really can’t. I can’t even figure out how it’s tied on. Do you, like, have a flashlight or something?”

“I do not.”

“Not even, like, one on your phone?”

“No.” The shadow leaned forward, and might have held out a hand, but if they did, they didn’t touch anything that Danny could feel. “What a curious and terrible thing,” murmured the shadow. “What cruelty and carelessness, to leave it to trap the unwary.”

Danny winced. Yeah. Yeah, okay, it kind of was, and it was probably a small miracle that no one else had ever gotten trapped in one of these things.

That Danny knew of.

He pushed the thought of his parents absent-mindedly forgetting to check one of these traps, or only checking them once a week, out of his mind. His parents were crazy and kind of forgetful and… well, the point was, he would have heard if something had… happened.

They wouldn’t do that, anyway.

“Yeah. But, um. Even without the flashlight, please, help? Just, maybe if you could untie me, or if you have…” Did he really want this guy to have a knife? Not really. Still. “Something to cut with, maybe?”

“I cannot cut the net in which you find yourself.” The shadow shifted again. “However, I will stay with you until you are free.”

“Maybe if you tried some of the knots, you could get me out, though,” pointed out Danny.

“I have encountered ropes like this in the past. They do not agree with my skin.”

“What, like, you're allergic?” asked Danny.

“Something like that.”

Just his luck. He was found, but the person to find him was… incredibly strange. And not very useful. And had possibly run into his parents’ nets before and had a reaction to them.

“Okay. But maybe you could call for help? I mean, I know you said you don’t have a phone, but you could go get someone who can get me out?”

“Child,” said the shadow, with a touch of amusement, “there are things in these woods that would eat you whole. I am equipped to deal with them. You are not. It would be irresponsible of me to leave you while they wander.” They settled themselves nearby. “Besides, I can see the stars here as well as I could elsewhere in these woods.”

“Eat me?” squeaked Danny. He'd thought about bears earlier, but not, like, out loud. Talking about them out loud was different. He cleared his throat. “You mean like bears?”

“In some respects,” said the shadow, still amused.

"Okay, um." Danny really did not like confirmation that there were bears around. He could have gone without knowing that. Except he probably should know. Considering he was in a net.

The net.

Which the stranger somehow thought he'd be able to escape on his own?

"Hey, um. I have been trying to get out for a while," said Danny. "It hasn't been working. You're sure you can't do anything to help?"

"There is more than one kind of trap here."

Danny blinked.

Crap. That would be just like his parents, wouldn’t it? They couldn’t leave it at just one stupid trap in a public space, they have more. “Where?”

“You will not be able to see it from your perspective, but I have no doubt it would close were I to attempt to free you.”

“Great,” said Danny. He took in a shuddering breath. “Great. And you, what, think I’ll be able to avoid it on my own? When I can’t even see it? Or is this a ‘wait until morning’ thing?”

“You will, at least, be less liable to be eaten by wild animals at that point. And more able to untie knots with the light of day.”

Okay, yeah. Danny had been thinking both of those things as well, but with someone here, he’d hoped…

He rubbed his eyes, tiredly, and, to his absolute horror, his stomach rumbled.

“Are you hungry?” asked the shadow, as if Danny wasn’t already embarrassed enough.

Danny mumbled something indistinct. He had eaten. Just… The main course had… Well, some things were better left unsaid. The salad (courtesy of Jazz) had been okay, and so had the carrots. He’d felt full right after dinner. He had.

But, yeah. He was hungry. Dinner had been hours and hours ago at this point.

“I have food enough to share.”

“Uh,” said Danny. “Okay?”

Something moved under his nose, and he flinched. He hadn’t seen the shadow move.

“Um, I’m not sure I can…” He tried to wedge his fingers into one of the holes of the net. He’d lost track of the opening.

“They are small. They will fit. Hold out your hands.”

Danny, only a little skeptical, held out his hands. As promised, several round, slightly damp things, like largeish marbles, were dropped into them through the holes in the net.

“What are these?”

“Star jelly.”

“Like, from starfruit or something?” asked Danny, interested. He squished one between his fingers. It was springy, like a gummy. But still. Damp.

“Or something,” said the stranger.

“Why is it damp?”

“It hasn’t dried.”

Well. That was almost no information at all.

“But it’s edible?”

“I enjoy them regularly.”

Danny huffed slightly. This guy was weird. Again, that was the pot calling the kettle black, but Danny didn’t go around offering weird food to strangers.

No, he went around getting trapped in nets.

And he was hungry.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t eaten weirder things. His parents could be creative.

Maybe he wasn’t supposed to accept food from strangers, but… This guy was his getting caught in a net buddy. And he had to admit, he was pretty mad at his parents right now. It’d serve them right, that Danny was eating someone else’s food.

Did that make sense? Maybe not. But it wasn’t like any of the stuff Sam or Jazz did made any sense, either.

Plus, it had ‘star’ in the name. He basically had to try out at least one.

He squished the smallest between his fingers one last time, then popped it in his mouth.

He chewed.

There was no burst of flavor. It tasted… pretty bland, actually. All the way through. But the texture was okay. Mostly. It was at least better than what had happened to the chicken fated for dinner.

So. Probably not poison.

(Although why anyone would bother to poison him when he was quite literally trapped in a net was beyond him.)

“I also have a variety of mushrooms.”

Who was this guy? The last hippie in Amity Park? A revolutionary war survivor?

“Do you have hardtack, too?” asked Danny, unable to help himself.

“I have biscuits.”

Oh thank goodness. Normal food.

“Can I have one?”

Something distinctly cracker-like was placed in his hand.

Danny didn’t even bother snarking, he just ate it. The texture was flaky, the flavor nutty and buttery and just salty enough to coat the whole of his tongue with flavor. He crunched into it again and the layers almost shattered between his teeth, then melted in his mouth like butter in a hot pan.

Danny swallowed. He’d never had a cracker that good.

“Can I have another?” he asked. Then, as more fell into his hands, “Where did you even get these? They’re great.”

“I baked them myself.”

Well. That explained why he didn’t have a phone. He was a hippie of some variety. Danny didn’t comment aloud, though, too busy plowing his way through another cracker. He spent a little while chewing in blissful silence before he could swallow.

“They’re great,” Danny repeated, and had another one. And another.

“Ah,” said the shadow, “I believe that was the first proper shooting star of the night.”

“What?” said Danny, looking up from his impromptu meal. He licked his fingers, then stretched out the net, the better to see through it. “Really? Where?”

“From the neighborhood of Cassiopeia, crossing her and going north.” A pointed finger stood out in silhouette against the slightly brighter sky, tracing an imaginary line.

Danny sighed. “I can’t believe I missed it.” The Perseid meteor shower was, after all, one of the main reasons he risked sneaking out.

“Many meteor showers reach their peak shortly before dawn,” said the shadow. “As we will be here for some time yet, I believe you will have the opportunity to see many more.”

“But the first one…” Danny said, trailing off.

“The first from our perspective. This shower has been going on for some time. For someone to our east, perhaps it is, instead, the last.”

Danny grumbled.

First the net and now this…

Something golden green streaked across the sky and he perked up. That one had been nice. A breath later, a smaller, shorter one flashed at the edge of his vision, a tiny needle of light.

“See? There will be more for you to wish on.”

“That’s really not why I wanted to see them,” said Danny, wrinkling his nose. Wishing was, well. It was the sort of thing little kids did. It wasn’t scientific. It was the kind of thing his parents strictly forbade.

“It isn’t?”

“I…they’re cool. And it’s nice. Or it would be, if it weren’t for this net.”

“What would it hurt to make a wish?”

Danny sighed. It wasn’t like they were wrong. This situation was stupid and illogical. So.

“I wish I could get out of this stupid net. Before my parents find out about any of this.”

The stranger hummed in interest. “They don’t know?”

“They sure know about the net,” griped Danny. He didn’t take his eyes off the sky, but he did tug on the ropes to make his point. The rope was homemade, twisted with nonstandard fibers along with more common silk and hemp, rubbed with garlic and sage. It was distinctive. It was familiar. It was something he'd probably tripped on a dozen times when it was left half-finished on the living-room floor. “But it's not like I told them I was sneaking out. Like, who's going to tell their parents they're breaking rules?”

The shadow hummed again. "That is true."

Danny was distracted from replying or continuing by a pale, oddly oblong blur to the north. It stayed in place, even as colorful shooting stars passed it by.

"Is that–?" gasped Danny. He leaned forward against the tension in the ropes and a similar, less tangible ache in his chest, as if he could get closer to the sky.

The oblong blur widened into several similar streaks, like thumbprints on glass. Green, pink, and purple began to seep into them.

"There must have been a solar storm I didn't know about," said Danny as meteors shot through the undulating curtain of the Aurora. Delight was dancing in his stomach and thrumming along his limbs at the sight. "We hardly ever get the Aurora this far south."

"It is an auspicious night for stargazing, then," said the shadow, "and one I am indeed glad to share, despite the circumstances."

The thing was, they were right. Despite the net, stargazing with someone who liked it as much as he did was nice. It was really nice, despite the net. Nice enough to wish, quite sincerely, and on a meteor that fell across the sky in that very moment, that they could do it again. It probably would have been nice even without the Perseids and the Aurora, but with them he was practically giddy.

Briefly, Danny imagined how this meeting might have gone sans net.

Okay. Honestly, Danny probably would have run for it. Weird adult in the middle of the night, after all. He had briefly wondered if the guy was an axe murderer.

He rolled his shoulders. His back was starting to get sore - probably a combination of the net and how long he'd been looking up, but he didn't want to take his eyes off the light show even for a second.

"My name's Danny, by the way." They were kind of sort of friends now. Stargazing buddies. Net buddies, even. Danny couldn't refer to the as 'the shadow' or as 'the guy who sat with me all night the time I was trapped in one of my parents' nets' forever, and he doubted the shadow wanted to keep mentally referring to him as 'that weirdo kid who got stuck in a net' for eternity, either.

"I am honored that you would trust me with your name," said the shadow, tone strangely formal.

"Uh, you're welcome?" Danny said.

"I go by Clockwork."

Wow. This guy really was strange, huh? Was that his legal name? Just a nickname? A screen name? Had he changed his legal name to that?

"Nice to meet you, Clockwork," said Danny, for lack of a better response.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, as well."

Pleased to make your acquaintance. Well. Danny's parents were eccentric too (see also: net. see also also: believing said net was going to catch faeries and demons.) and he was now almost eighty percent sure this guy wasn't an axe murderer.

Danny shifted under the net. He could try and shake hands, but the excitement and delight hadn't faded much at all and it was hard to focus on formalities when so much of him was full of so much energy.

Wait.

That was weird, wasn't it? Danny frowned. Should he have taken random food from a stranger? Clockwork had mushrooms, too. Had the star jelly been not just edible but an edible?

Was he high right now?

"Clockwork," Danny began, and the Aurora bloomed across the sky. The moment filled with shared murmurs of admiration, and by the time it died the thought had passed.

Even if the energy hadn't.

He flexed his fingers. Maybe he’d run through some kind of itchy plant? That might explain the tingle on his skin.

There was a hollow, almost melodic popping noise from the vicinity of the shadow. The vicinity of Clockwork, he corrected himself.

“You should try to stay hydrated,” said Clockwork.

A scent both floral and salty wafted up to Danny’s nose. The green glimmer of the Aurora reflected off the glassy lip of a bottle. “Is– Is that alcohol?” asked Danny. “Are you offering me alcohol? Wine?”

“I am not,” said Clockwork. “This is far more nourishing.”

“‘This’ being what, exactly?” asked Danny, still vaguely suspicious.

“It is mostly sugar and water. Fruit juice, salt, nectar, among other things. As you would call them, electrolytes. You have exerted yourself. It has not been purposefully fermented.”

This guy and his weird food. Still, that didn’t seem…bad, exactly. Danny was thirsty, and he liked gatorade, and that was kind of similar, right? And he was curious.

The crackers had been good. And even the star jelly had been edible.

It took some experimentation to hold the bottle firmly through the net. The body of it was too large to fit through any of the holes. But the mouth and neck of the bottle could go through, and Clockwork seemed content to hold it until Danny figured it out.

The liquid inside was thicker than he had expected. Sweeter and saltier, too. The flavor was… interesting. A little sour, a little bitter, a little… savory? It definitely tasted like flowers smelled. Only, it also tasted like something else? A lot of something elses.

He pulled the bottle back and licked his lips thoughtfully. He… didn’t hate it. It sure wasn’t something he’d just drink on his own, though. On the other hand, taking that sip had made him realize how thirsty he actually was. Which was very thirsty. He must have gotten more dried out than he’d thought, first walking here and then fighting the net for who knew how long.

He took another sip, trying to focus on the flavors he hadn’t quite been able to name.

And another.

Something in him settled as he drank. He hadn’t realized how nervous he’d been. Was it nervousness? He’d thought it was excitement. Delight. Something positive. But now it was settling into something softer. Calmer. And yet the sky was no less compelling.

Maybe it was a different sort of happiness, now that the unexpected relief and delight of a fellow stargazer out here had calmed his nerves. Maybe he hadn’t managed to calm down until now, and the drink was finally letting him?

Regardless, his limbs weren't so tense anymore, and breaths he hadn’t realized had become so short were drawing long and even now, and that was a relief.

He alternated sips with looking up at the stars. The Aurora undulated slowly, and was periodically pierced by meteors. The stars behind the curtains of light were harder to see, but he could still pick out his favorites coming and going, first hidden, then not. The motion of the lights almost made them seem as if they were moving. It was hypnotizing.

He tilted the bottle back once more, and made a disappointed sound deep in his throat when he realized it was empty. Huh. He must have liked it alright after all. That wasn’t a small bottle. In fact, it was bigger than he’d originally thought when Clockwork had first given it to him.

… He hoped this didn’t make him have to pee. He was in the woods, but standing next to, um. Well. An impromptu bathroom. Until dawn, at least. Would make the net thing much worse.

“Done already?” asked Clockwork.

“I guess I was thirstier than I thought.”

“You had been exerting yourself for some time.” Clockwork plucked the bottle out of Danny’s hands. “But I believe that you will soon see the fruits of your exertions.”

Danny sighed and leaned more deeply against the tree he was attached to. Subtly, he rubbed his back against the bark. The soreness was getting worse. “Not unless you see a rescue party.”

Clockwork hummed. “I do not. But perhaps you will not need one. The weave of the net seems looser, now. Can your hands fit through?”

Danny tested it. His hand fit through one of the holes easily. And another. It was the same with the third he tried.

“What,” he said.

“It is progress, is it not?”

“I don’t know how,” Danny said. “It’s not like Mom and Dad don’t tie these things at every connection. I didn’t think they could slide.”

“And yet your hands can fit through.”

“Yeah. I just wish I knew how that happened.”

“Dawn will come,” said Clockwork. “You will be able to see it then. Perhaps you worked them loose with your straining.”

“I guess,” said Danny, still wondering.

“And with dawn, you will be free, one way or another. For now, shall we focus on this spectacular sky?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.

He’d never seen a night sky like this before, after all. Even if he was stuck under a net, he had a …not a friend. But a fellow stargazer who was just as appreciative. And he was full, and no longer thirsty, and even the cold of the wet earth beneath him wasn’t as cutting with Clockwork’s company.

He settled in again to watch the lightshow, and worried at the cords of the net as he did. It wasn’t like he couldn’t do both, after all.

The stars flashed. The sky spun. Clockwork and Danny both exclaimed and pointed at particularly impressive meteors. Clockwork noted the visible planets and occasionally pointed out asterisms Danny had never heard of before. The Veil, the Key, the Mistletoe, the Dancing Maidens, the Hive, the Moth. He half suspected Clockwork was just making them, and the stories that went with them, up to entertain Danny. But, then, Danny was entertained. He couldn’t complain. Even when Clockwork tried to get away with calling Libra The Balance, Danny found his objections were more laughter than indignation.

The eastern horizon began to blush pale. Danny found himself almost disappointed at the sight, even if he’d be able to get out of the net soon. And really see Clockwork. After stargazing for hours together, it felt odd that he still didn’t know what the man looked like even though his voice was becoming as familiar as a friend’s.

He rubbed one of the net cords between his fingers. Was it just him, or did it seem… scratchier? Thicker?

He stroked the skin on his palms. Did he have rope burn, maybe? He had been pulling on the cords for hours. And who knew what his parents had soaked the nets in after they’d been woven? Danny sure tried not to.

More importantly, before too much longer the sun would drown out the meteors and the Aurora both. He wanted to press this sight into his mind to keep forever and ever. And not just the sight, but the feeling of… He couldn’t put a name to it, to what he felt, sitting here with Clockwork

It just felt important.

A meteor fell. He wished it would last. Another meteor, brighter. He wished that even after Clockwork inevitably found out who Danny’s parents were and what they were like in person, he would still want to be ‘acquaintances.’ Friends. Whatever. He was weird enough. Probably. Like Sam and Tucker.

He wished–

A huge fireball bloomed directly overhead, a celestial arrow angling down, north, wreathed in blinding green. It took Danny’s breath away.

He wished he could do this again. He wished he could cast off the shadow of his parents’ weird fae traps and property damage and hatred of creatures that didn’t even exist. He wished he could have the space and time to figure out who he was and who he could be, whether that was an astronaut, an astronomer, a screw up, whatever Jazz was trying to convince him to be that week, or, heck, even someone just as strange as his parents and Clockwork. He wished he could be himself, could just shed the image of what they and almost everyone else seemed to see in him.

Also, the net.

Some of the net fell heavily around Danny’s shoulders, then slid off them. He didn’t look down, still entranced by the after-image. Then pain, white hot and as sharp as a knife, drove into his temples and back. It took his breath away.

He dropped to his hands and knees, gasping for air and squeezing his eyes so tightly that tears began to slip out. What had happened? What was wrong with him? He hissed out a shaky breath that was dangerously close to a sob as the pain redoubled, strengthening and strengthening again until static pulsed in the dark of his shut eyes.

It felt as though his head were splitting open.

The pain lanced down his back and he revised the thought. It felt as though he were splitting open.

And then his face came apart.

And then there were only scattered fragments. Scratching. Growing. Stretching. The feeling of fingers on earth. The feeling fingers of earth. Unfolding. Squeezing. Balance; a knife’s edge.

A great and overwhelming sense of space.

Like a leaf before a storm, Danny trembled.

Eventually, it ebbed.

He was clinging to the ground with all his might, which wasn’t much; the whatever-it-was had left him weak. His limbs felt like jelly and seemed half as cooperative. He was gasping for air, each breath harsh enough to sting his throat. There was a blanket over him and he had the halfway-delirious thought that if Clockwork had a blanket he’d have appreciated it sooner than this.

He couldn’t feel the net.

Had Clockwork gotten him out once it got light enough out? It seemed much brighter now, even if the thought of opening his eyes made Danny wince.

There was a painful, high-pitched chirr sound in the background. It hurt Danny’s ears and made him wonder if there was an injured animal nearby.

Something pressed down gently on the back of his neck, where the fuzzy, fluffy edge of the blanket rested. It removed itself, then returned at the top of his head, whereupon it slid down to the top of his back.

Oh. Oh. He was being petted. Comforted. That must be someone’s hand. Clockwork’s?

It felt… unusually satisfying. Especially when they fluffed the ruff of the blanket which Danny was strangely aware of.

Very gradually, the tension in his body began to ease, and he was able to start cataloging the parts of his body that hurt, which was all of them. But there were a few that hurt more. His eyes. His ears. His temples and the sides of his head. His entire back. His shoulders, neck, ears, and large parts of his spine felt like every hair on them had been individually plucked out and then sandpapered. Speaking of his spine, that felt as if it had been stretched, pulled to bits. And his back still felt like it had been stabbed. Multiple times. Especially around his shoulder blades and at the base of his spine.

Other than that, he was just sore, everywhere.

The quality of the chirr sound he’d been hearing started to change, morphing into a sort of purr. One that rose and fell in time with the hand petting Danny.

Huh.

His hand flexed on the ground. Something was… There was something very off here, beyond the pain, but that was getting better, and he was starting to feel almost… comfortable.

His weight shifted again, and the ground shifted under it.

It was warm.

It was…damp? Wet. There was something wet under his hands. Carefully, worried that it would move again, Danny took one hand off the ground and brought it to his face to sniff.

It smelled good. It smelled wonderful, salty and hearty and just a little bit like chicken soup.

He licked it.

“There we are,” said Clockwork, softly. “Take as much as you need.”

Danny needed a lot, right now. His throat was raw, and he was thirsty and suddenly starving, and beyond that the pain that was still leaving echoes through his body. This was warmth and comfort and he wanted both.

He lowered his head and began to lap directly from the source, and warmth and comfort steadily filled him like the morning sun.

He pulled back, not exactly satiated, but needing something else, something different, now. He made a soft, pleading sound, more like a chirp or a keen than anything human. He didn’t understand what was going on, but part of him trusted he would be cared for. Loved. He’d already been given so much he didn’t know he needed…

Another plea escaped his throat. It blended with the softening chirr, fitting with it far better than Danny felt it should.

Something soft and sweet-smelling tickled his cheeks, and Danny dove in, his tongue coming out to search for what he knew was there.

Sweet.

Sweet, but not in the way of candy or even sugar. This was softer, perfumed, more reminiscent of honey but lacking that sharp note.

He wanted more.

As he pushed his face deeper into the… container… something touched his… Touched… What? It was touching his… not his head, but something over it, something attached, something he could feel, and now that he could feel it, was thinking about it, whatever it was, he could feel its movements, as even the sigh-soft breeze pushed it around.

It– No, they were something fine. Something soft and delicate. Something light and flexible and oh so very sensitive.

The hand, Clockwork’s hand, stroked down his back again, and Danny realized he could feel the fluff of the blanket the same way he’d been able to feel the things on his head. And it trailed past that, to his horribly sore back, and down, all the way down, past where his back should end.

Down, to where Danny could feel something laying across a foot. Down, to where he could feel a hard object under him.

Something twitched, and the thing across his foot fell away. The hard something vanished, too, replaced with the soft ground he found himself on.

Danny chirred, confused.

Oh. He had been the one making that sound all along. But. That wasn’t a sound he could make. It wasn’t.

He had to see what was going on.

Opening his eyes was, perhaps, the single hardest thing he had ever done. It wasn’t that they were stuck closed or anything, they were just so heavy, and a large part of him just didn’t want to know, wanted to stay half asleep, wanted to keep being held and petted.

Red. A deep, rich red puddled around him on the strange, soft ground. And the ground was uneven, and covered with small ridges and creases where it didn’t vanish beneath the red. Which was welling up from the ground like a spring.

Danny was wrist-deep in it.

A short distance from his face lay the biggest flower Danny had ever seen. It was bigger than his head, its pale petals stained liberally with the red. Handprints. The red stains were in the shape of handprints. Danny’s handprints.

The red looked– Well, it looked a lot like– Like a scene from a horror movie– But it was coming from the ground, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be blood.

Danny had been drinking this. What had he been thinking?

“Are you feeling better?” asked Clockwork.

Danny looked around for him. Then, he looked up.

The very first thing he noticed was that there were still stars in the sky. It was still dark, the Aurora was still bright. The meteors were still falling.

Why could he see?

Why could he see so much more? He’d only ever seen the stars like this in long-exposure photographs. The light pollution was way too strong this close to the city.

There were other, closer things. The leaves on the trees were green, but they weren’t just green. Their veins seemed to glow with soft pinks and blues. He could see insects and birds, too, all of them strangely bright to his eyes, like they had swallowed stars.

Then, there was Clockwork. It had to be Clockwork. There wasn’t anything or anyone else it could be.

“I will interpret that as a yes,” said Clockwork, smiling down at him with love clear in all six eyes.

He had the nose Danny had seen before, yes, and long, silk-white hair, but everything else was so far beyond what Danny had imagined that it was hard to even comprehend.

And yet it suited him perfectly.

His skin was blue, like summer twilight, warm and rich.

His face glowed in the same soft, steady way as the birds, and set in it, his eyes were a kindly red. There were four on his right side but his left had only two; a deep black scar tore its way down most of his face and left two empty sockets in its wake. It was interrupted only by his primary eye on that side, and Danny felt tender relief that the old wound hadn’t taken that one, too.

White filaments made up a thick ruff around the collar of his– No, that wasn't a cloak, those were wings. Huge, dramatic, moth-like wings, layered over one another. There had to be dozens of them, all the way down his back. They were as dark and starry as the sky on the outside, but some were turned towards Danny to show the luminous, moon-pale undersides.

Below that–below that, Danny couldn’t see. The ground he was on was too high, and Clockwork too large. The ground–

He wasn’t on the ground.

Finally, like disjointed pieces of a puzzle, the details became whole. The uneven place where he lay, with its softness and whorls of ridges and creases. The warmth of it, and the placement.

The–the blood.

He was on Clockwork’s upturned hand.

Forget the rest of it. When, and how, did Clockwork get so big?

Danny chirred a question. Wordless, overwhelmed and wondering.

(And why was Clockwork bleeding?)

“You are safe, little one. My little one.”

Danny chirred again, a little cross. That didn’t answer anything.

Clockwork only smiled, and then there was a gentle rocking motion as they moved. Like clouds, the trees in the distance slid sideways with deceptive speed.

Danny settled, feeling sleepy, slow, and stupid, but still safe. Like he should be able to make this all make sense, like this should make sense, if he was just a little more awake and aware, but that it didn’t matter if he couldn’t, because he would be protected.

And then, Clockwork tilted, and his hand jostled, and though he didn’t become more visible, they were suddenly surrounded by great spikes of grass and flowers, stories tall. Some of them drooped, heavy with seeds or droplets of dew. They hung huge and heavy from the stalks, like fruit ripe to bursting.

Danny blinked. Frowned. Blinked again.

There was something, an idea, that made sense. But it hung just out of reach, blurry, and every time he reached for it, the thought passed through his mental fingers like the morning mist.

It was, it should have been, obvious.

Clockwork would know. Danny chirred his question again.

“It will come to you,” Clockwork said. ”Give it time.”

Clockwork cleaned him off gently with a huge, damp cloth, taking special care with his ruff, antennae, and wings. He mopped up the blood pooling beneath Danny as well, with a reassurance that Danny was welcome to more if he needed it. With another hand, he laid another huge flower down next to him. The stem where Clockwork had held it glowed briefly, before it faded into the relative dark of early morning, leaving the flower with the same odd coloration as the tree leaves earlier.

Dawn was still hours off. He wasn’t in the net.

Danny looked up.

He’d wondered what it would be like to stargaze with Clockwork without the net. Apparently, the answer was wonderful.

The stars were still so beautiful. More beautiful, now. There was such an incredible array of color and brightness in the sky, like a living painting. There was scarcely any black left in it.

Danny blinked, slow. He rubbed his face with his hands, lingering over his ears - which felt long and soft, like a cat’s or a rabbit’s, he must really be sleepy - and the long fluffy things that had sprouted from his head. They twitched under his fingers.

He looked up at Clockwork, still hoping for an answer and… Clockwork had things growing from his head, too, now that he looked. He’d mistaken them for hair, before, but while Clockwork certainly had plenty of that, braided, beaded, and beribboned, that wasn’t all he had.

They were antennae. Four of them. White, fluffy, and softly glowing. They were much longer, compared to Clockwork’s body, than Danny’s were compared to his. Danny raised his hands to feel his again. He had two. And, maybe, behind each, a ticklish little nub.

It felt…right, that they should both have antennae, though. Satisfying. Comforting, like a hug. Like the stroking had been, and the blood.

What else did Danny and Clockwork share, now?

Danny’s eyes trailed carefully over Clockwork’s face.

Danny was pretty sure he only had two eyes, but he touched his face again, just to make sure. Then his ears… Clockwork had big, long ears, too, the edges of them soft with white fur. Just like his ruff. Danny’s ruff was black shot with silver and… it was growing from his skin. It wasn’t part of a blanket, which meant…

He twisted his head to check.

There was no blanket. Danny had wings. They were wrinkled and slightly damp, but they were wings, just like Clockwork’s, although he didn’t have nearly as many. Two sets, to Clockwork’s uncountably many.

He also had a tail. And only two arms, to Clockwork’s four. Somehow, in the moment, this seemed less important than the wings.

His eyes kept returning to his wings.

The outsides looked just like the darker parts of the sky did now, streaked with meteor silver and edged with Auroral green. The insides were the same vivid colors as the Aurora itself. Pinks, purples, blues, and greens all dancing together.

They were beautiful. He definitely, definitely should not have them.

He wanted them.

He shouldn’t want them.

He did.

He drew them close to his body and looked up.

There was a huff of fond laughter. “Remember to fan them out, my little fledgeling. We want them to dry well.”

Oh. Right. Danny unfolded his wings again, a little embarrassed he’d forgotten.

And then he returned his attention to the stars. He was determined to enjoy this for however much longer this might last. Maybe this would all make sense in the morning. Maybe all of this would be taken away from him. Either way, neither was true now.

Now, Danny was here with Clockwork, looking up.

Now, the sky was vast and beautiful.

Later, his eyes started to feel heavy again. He pulled the flower close, and began to absent-mindedly chew on the petals in an attempt to stay awake. He didn’t want to miss anything else.

Despite his efforts, his eyes began to droop. His head kept falling into his neck fluff, and the flower tumbled from his hands.

Clockwork plucked it from where it fell, and replaced it with a blanket, just Danny’s size.

“Some inevitabilities we must fight,” said Clockwork, “but this isn’t one of them, my dear child.”

For another few moments, he kept his eyes stubbornly on the sky. Another pair of meteors fell, and he wished, perhaps selfishly, that this could last forever.

But, he admitted to himself with a sigh, he was very tired.

Danny curled up in Clockwork’s hand, tucking his head under the wings he was careful to keep fanned, and his tail around his head.

“Rest, my little one,” said Clockwork’s voice, already distant. “We can talk more when you are rested.”

And Danny did.

Dawn.

The kiss of the sun on the horizon. The beginning of a new day. The banishment of all things of the night.

Danny jackknifed straight up as if its fire had been poured directly into his veins, heart pounding. He woke just in time to see his new wings, his beautiful, terrible, fully spread wings evaporate like the morning dew.

The antennae, the tail, and the fur that had grown around his neck and shoulders and down his spine stayed.

More concerningly from Danny’s perspective, his perspective didn’t change. He stayed small, just the right size to fit snugly in the palm of Clockwork’s hand.

Clockwork’s wings stayed. So did his extra eyes, his antennae, his skin color, and everything.

This wasn’t a dream.

Or there really had been drugs in the food Clockwork gave him.

Why, oh why, was that the best case scenario right now? Why was the best possible answer to the question of what was happening that he was just really really high?

Because if he was just drugged, that meant he was only normal human stupid. People took stupid drugs accidentally and on purpose all the time. But if it wasn’t drugs, if this was real… That meant he’d somehow wandered into a world where his parents were right, had always been right, and he was probably about to get eaten.

“I would not, and will not, eat you,” said Clockwork. “I never would.”

“I don’t know what you would or wouldn’t do!” hissed Danny, pulling on his hair. “You turned me into some kind of– of moth boy.”

“You would have turned regardless, trapped so thoroughly and so long on a faerie door on a night like that. I simply made sure that it was kinder.”

“Kinder than what?”

“Any number of things. Any number of fates. They do not give much more mind to cruelty than your parents.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It was their trap you fell into, dear one. Without their actions, you could be human, still; safe and warm at home. Though,” and here Clockwork smiled so gently that Danny couldn’t help but be comforted despite himself. “You are safe, and you are warm. And you could be home as well.”

Danny hunched his shoulders. “What,” he squeaked, “is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that as you are, you would be in danger with those who made the net that trapped you. I mean that you would be welcome in my home, and cared for, and safe. You are not the first lost and lonely child I have found. Nor the first with parents who should have protected them, and did not.”

“You’ve kidnapped other kids?”

“I have adopted other children. Other children, who were not cared for as they should have been, not loved as they deserved. As you deserve.”

“My parents love me just fine,” Danny snapped.

“I see,” said Clockwork, and he seemed sad. “And your presence here in the night? Alone, without even a light to see by?”

“I snuck out. And I brought a flashlight with me.”

“Alone,” said Clockwork.

“I thought the woods were safe.”

“Why? Did your parents tell you they were?” asked Clockwork, eyes narrowed and nose flaring.

“No! No, they said they were full of monsters.”

“So they didn’t teach you we could be dangerous?”

“No, I–I didn’t believe them.”

“My child, humans can be dangerous. Even to other humans. Surely, you know–”

“I know that,” interrupted Danny. “I didn’t think you existed.”

Clockwork frowned. “Your parents set cruel traps for the unwary.”

“Because they are crazy. Were crazy?” Danny moaned, burying his head in his hands. He resisted the urge to start preening his antennae and fluff. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“Their cruelty is the same,” said Clockwork, “Regardless of whether you believed the target existed. And they let you go hungry.”

“That wasn’t their fault. They made dinner. It just… didn’t work out.”

“Then whose fault was it?” asked Clockwork. “Yours? Your sister’s? As parents, they should provide for you, not leave you to fend for yourself.”

“They didn’t leave us to fend for ourselves,” scoffed Danny, crossing his arms.

“What do you call them leaving to go test what was left of that chicken?”

“That was– Okay, but what happened to the chicken was really weird–”

“It was not the first time, or the only time, that they abandoned you in favor of crafting their weapons and traps.”

Danny shook his head. “They love us. They love me.”

“Sometimes, that is not enough.”

“Sometimes it is. Of course it is. They love me. They love me enough to–” Danny swallowed, fighting down grief and horror. “I’m not leaving them. Or Jazz.”

Swallowing hadn’t helped. It had only shoved the churning knot of emotion down into his chest where it could reach awful vines around his heart and squeeze.

His hands were shaking.

God, what would Jazz do if he randomly disappeared? They annoyed the heck out of each other, and Jazz definitely held some of the things she did for him over his head for guilt trips, but he didn’t doubt she loved him. He didn’t doubt she would be frantic if he vanished.

He chirred again, mournfully, and only looked up again at Clockwork’s light touch.

“If love is enough,” said Clockwork, softly, ”then shouldn’t it be enough that I love you?”

“I–I don’t know,” said Danny.

Because the thing was, he didn’t doubt that Clockwork loved him. Nor that Clockwork would nurture and protect him, as he already had. It was easy, terribly easy, to imagine snuggling under Clockwork’s wings or into his ruff and trusting that he would be safe.

Danny pinched his eyes shut. “I’m going back.”

“As you are? Knowing how they would treat those they consider monsters?”

“Yes. They’re my parents. They love me.”

“Through this forest, and all of its dangers?”

“Yes.”

“Through all the hazards of that human city?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing I can do will dissuade you?”

“No.” Although, Danny reflected, Clockwork could certainly stop him physically. All he would have to do was hold him. But Danny would fight him. He’d fight, and he’d never stop fighting, and trying to get back home, no matter what. No matter how much Clockwork seemed to care for him, or how gentle and kind he was.

Clockwork sighed. “Then I have no choice. I will let you return.”

“You– You will?” asked Danny, suspiciously. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Yes. But I would not have you killed out of hand, my child, as would certainly happen if you were to return as you are now. First, let me show you how to change.”

“I don’t want to change anymore,” said Danny. “I don’t. I don’t.” The fear was a beating heart inside of him, the idea of more change, unknown and untraveled.

“Perhaps I should say, change back.”

“I can be human again?” A needle of hope lanced through his chest. But would he ever see Clockwork again?

“Not precisely,” said Clockwork, before Danny could dwell. “No more than you are now. But it was the doorway that changed you, and doorways are of the between rather than here or there. Thus, you are of both sides of the door, not just one. You are still half human.”

Danny sat down. “I am?” he asked, voice wavering. He wasn’t going to cry. Not now.

“Yes,” said Clockwork. “You are half human… and half faerie. Half of their house, and half of mine, tied by blood, if not birth.”

Danny remembered. He remembered drinking Clockwork’s blood (again, what had he been thinking?) and how good it had tasted.

He hoped that wasn’t going to be, like, a recurring thing.

“So, what do I do?” he asked.

“First,” said Clockwork, “you ought to take off your clothing, so it doesn’t tear.”

“So it doesn’t…?” Danny looked down at himself. Maybe he should have realized earlier, but he wasn’t wearing the clothes he’d put on yesterday. Which made sense. At his current size, they would have been far too big. Instead, he was wearing simple white layered robes that had openings in the back for his wings and tail.

“I will have to get you something enchanted to change sizes, or to come when you transform, should you choose to remain and change often,” continued Clockwork. “But I was able to make these on short notice, and they were suitable for the night.”

“You made these?” asked Danny, oddly touched. He was supposed to be mad at Clockwork. He was supposed to be afraid of him. But both of those feelings just ran out of his hands like water out of a fist.

“I did,” said Clockwork.

“What happened to my clothes?”

Clockwork shifted one of his wings, showing what was beneath it. Silver buckles and pocket watches shone brightly against dark silk and leather. Other things, like bottles, herbs, and what looked like a small spyglass hung from belts or were secreted in pockets. Danny’s ratty jeans and t-shirt stood out like a sore thumb.

“Oh,” said Danny. “Okay. Um.” His hands curled around the edge of the tunic-like top portion of the robes. “Don’t look.”

Clockwork closed his eyes.

“Now what?” asked Danny, who very much was not enjoying being naked in the open like this.

“We are creatures of the night sky,” said Clockwork, eyes still shut. “We are of the Stars and the Moon.”

“The moon is up during the day, too. It’s up right now.”

“So it is,” agreed Clockwork. “But so is the Sun that drowns out the Stars.”

“The sun is also a star.”

“So it is. But it is not like other Stars.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It is not like other stars to us, or to humans. It is the light by which so many see. It is what divides day from night. It is, you see, what has clipped your wings.” Danny shifted slightly, the missing weight of his wings both foreign and familiar.

(There was so much to unpack. He hadn’t any time.)

“Why is it different?”

“Its proximity, perhaps. We can discuss it at a later time, if you wish. I would enjoy such a conversation.”

Danny hadn’t really thought about there being a ‘later’ with Clockwork, but… The thought of never seeing Clockwork again made his heart squeeze painfully, so he shoved it away.

“In any case,” continued Clockwork, “for those like yourself to change, you reach for one or the other. For the day or the night. The light or the dark. The Moon or the Sun. However you would like to think about it. You give precedence within yourself to one or the other.”

“Is it harder when they’re close to one another in the sky, like now?” Danny asked.

Clockwork smiled, though he kept his eyes shut. “As I do not transform that way, I do not know myself. My other children may have more comparable experiences, and we all are more comfortable under the phase we were born under.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be running into your children any time soon,” said Danny. Seeing them would, after all, mean that Clockwork had succeeded in kidnapping Danny, too. Even if it meant that he’d see Clockwork again…

“Even so. You will be able to see for yourself before long. Reach out, now. Can you feel them?”

Clockwork had a lot of confidence in Danny being able to figure this out quickly, huh.

(Despite still being mad at Clockwork - he was mad, he was - Danny didn’t want to disappoint him.)

Reach out… to something inside himself. Which was also outside himself? He wasn’t entirely clear on how literal the connection to the moon and sun was. But… Right. Okay. He could do this. He didn’t want to be a little gremlin moth thing that Clockwork - or, heck, an average bird - could carry off at a moment’s notice.

He closed his eyes.

Day and night. Light and Dark. Moon and sun. This was the kind of Yin and Yang stuff Sam sometimes got into. Balance and changing balance.

If he was reaching for the sun - for the Sun, the idea of the Sun - he should reach for heat, shouldn’t he? Heat and life and truth.

He could feel it, on his skin, warming him, cutting through the coolness of the morning. He imagined that warmth sinking through him, filling him up.

But there was warmth inside him, too. It built in his chest and left his lungs with every breath. It churned in his heart and coursed through his veins like the blood that helped to carry it. It was easy to take that, and imagine light to accompany it, centered at his heart. To imagine it reaching out as the sunlight reached in. He imagined it growing, brightening, pushing out against the inside of his skin, chasing away the dark, chasing away the moonlight and starlight and Aurora. Gold, chasing out black and silver.

Except… not entirely.

The sun was also a star, and all moonlight had once been sunlight. They mixed at the edges, blending comfortably, linked inexorably.

(There was magic he would be able to touch through this link that few others could. He understood this instinctively - but he was not yet ready for it, and the feeling was pushed away, put aside for a later, more appropriate day.)

This was the Sun, a tiny spark of it held within himself.

(There was the Moon, dark but no less itself, no less present and pulling for its invisibility during the day.)

And… the balance shifted.

He wouldn’t be able to explain what it felt like, to fall back into his skin. Not now. Not today.

Maybe not even if he lived a hundred years.

(Maybe he would, something whispered in his ear. Who knew how long moth-things lived?)

But he found himself at his proper human teenager size, cradled in Clockwork’s arms, no fluff or tail in sight.

Still naked, though.

He snatched his clothes from Clockwork, and, blushing furiously, ran behind a tree to change.

It was strange, walking next to Clockwork. The… Danny wasn’t actually sure what Clockwork was. Mothman? Moth monster? Anyway, Clockwork was still way taller than him, and the way his ruff and wings made him seem bulkier made Danny feel a little bit better about initially mistaking him for a bear.

The walk itself was still weird and awkward. Danny kept drifting closer to Clockwork, and then when Clockwork’s wings ruffled out towards him, as if to part or turn back to let him shelter under them, he flinched away, walking as far apart as the trees would allow.

Danny wondered if one of the things Clockwork had given him to eat had been some kind of… family love potion, and if it would ever wear off. Despite no longer having any fur, his skin still itched for Clockwork to touch him, pet him, hold him.

Although, for that to be perfect, he’d need to change back. Shrink back down until Clockwork could hold him securely in one hand and pet him, head to tail, with the other.

Which– No. No. He was never going to turn back into a moth. He wasn’t going to think about it. He wasn’t ever going to have antennae, or wings, or a tail ever again.

… Clockwork had a tail. A long one, longer than Danny’s had been, compared to his body. It trailed on the ground like the train of a dress, and both the left and right side of it was completely lined with moth wings, as opposed to Danny’s where there were only wings next to the little bulb at the end. Which Clockwork also had. It flickered with light, like a lightning-bug’s tail.

Danny wondered if his tail would do that, too, under the right circumstances.

Not that it mattered. Again, weird fairy door magic or whatever, he was going to be human from now on. Yep.

(Wow, the more he thought that, the less convincing he got. That was sad, actually.)

They reached the edge of the forest. Amity Park seemed to sparkle in the light. Too bright. Too artificial. Unreal, after the events of the night.

“Here is where we part, for now,” said Clockwork. “If you need me, you will be able to find me.” Could he say anything that didn’t sound ominous and weighty?

“Right,” said Danny. He hesitated, then, impulsively, hugged Clockwork. He shouldn’t have. Clockwork was exactly the kind of monster his parents had always warned him about, and was an admitted serial kidnapper who had spied on his family and turned him into a moth.

But he couldn’t imagine leaving without hugging Clockwork. Just once.

Clockwork hugged him back, with all four arms and what had to be a dozen wings. It was the best hug he’d ever had - even if it was also the most terrifying.

Then, Clockwork leaned down so that his lips were next to Danny’s ear. He whispered to him a simple handful of words. Most of them were familiar. His name. His full name, the one on his birth certificate, the one his parents and sister used when they were really upset with him. But… one of them he hadn’t heard before. Not once. Not ever.

It was still his name.

He knew this with the same surety as he knew the rest of his name. He also knew it hadn’t been his name before last night.

It was his name… because it was Clockwork’s. It was a family name, belonging to him as indelibly and as truly as the name ‘Fenton,’ one that bound him not only to Clockwork, but to the rest of Clockwork’s kin.

It did more than that, too. When Clockwork spoke his name, his true, full name, it was as if every molecule in his body had been magnetized and his name was a magnet. He was held still by it, at perfect attention. Whatever Clockwork wanted to say, whatever he wanted to do, Danny had no choice but compliance.

Not that, in the moment, he wanted another choice.

“Follow your conscience, my dear, sweet child,” said Clockwork. “I want that for you, always. But when you do, please… Have a care for yourself, too. Do not needlessly throw yourself into deadly danger.”

Danny, pinned to Clockwork’s chest, nodded.

Clockwork, with palpable reluctance, released him, hands tracing along his cheeks before falling away. “Be safe, Danny.”

Danny nodded again, and stepped backwards, out of the trees and into the sunlight. He didn’t know why he felt so sad, all of a sudden. He was going home. He’d avoided being permanently kidnapped or eaten. He was fine.

He turned away.

He was going home.

Stay tuned for the sequel. :)

#danny phantom #Lost Time #The portal accident #Phantasy Phest 2023 #Clockwork has low opinions of the Fenton Parents #Body Horror #Danny gets to say Fuck #tw: blood drinking #tw: moths

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