#Transformers Equinox AU

[tfe-on-break]

aND awaAAAaay we GO

(I love this guy <3)

[nyaskitten]

Transformers: Equinox lore dump time:

This is the Shatterspark, centuries ago, a Cybertronian scientist (currently undisclosable cus IDK who, lmao) discovered a void of multiversal energy. He sought to harness the power he found, and thus he merged it with his spark. The multiversal energy almost instantly killed him, destroying his body and mind, but preserving his spark and sparkchamber. His death was so powerful that it constructed a whole new universe, the Shattered reality, where everything is all upside-down and everyone is a dark reflection of themselves. One CAN harness the power of the spark and meld it with their own... but the consequences are not worth the power...

[sanjoongie]

𝖛𝖊𝖗ä𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖓

Verändern: the German word for change, modify, vary, transform

Pairing: Fae! Yunho x Changling! Reader (f)

Genre: smut

Au: fae, changling, modern fantasy

Trope: s2l, bonded mate

Word Count: 2,358

Warnings: public sex, slight fear kink, restraints, dom! Yunho, sub! Reader, brat! Reader, oral (f), breast play, penetrative sex with no barrier, finger sucking (f), tummy bulge, gag (hand, fingers), pull out game, jerking off on stomach?

Rated: 18+ MDNI

Summary: one night, during the autumn solstice celebration, you're whisked away by a hooded man, dropping a bomb to your life. Except you kind of believe him. It wasn't the first time someone accused you of being different.

Author’s Note: @flurrys-creativity to my champion, the one who will fight for me when I cannot. My tag for you is ironic considering how much I depend on you. You may make me wanna tear my hair out but at the end of the day, who else would validate my logic? Also i really hope i didn't butcher the title *pained seonghwa emoji*. Happy belated birthday flurrs, I hope you had a good one

Branches pulled at your hair and clothes, almost as if they were trying to hold you back. You would have leaned into their help if not for the tall, Fae man dragging you through said dark and menacing forest.

“Don’t ever enter the Darkling Forest, sweet,” your mother always told you. “You’ll get trapped and never return.”

Was it a different situation if you were forced into said forest?

Rewind to perhaps a couple hours earlier, where you were celebrating the autumn equinox. You had a solo cup full of a neon green liquid that burned down your esophagus every time you chugged it. You might have gone for some beer if not for the rowdy crowd of people permanently stuck to the keg. 

Not that you were one to turn down a good time with some alcohol but you weren’t starting to feel like you shouldn’t have come to the gathering. Your social battery was already at an all-time low from your job and your family. You were starting to want to kick your past self in the but for agreeing to go to this, despite your busy schedule.

Taking another sip from your cup, your eyes skirted around the blazing bonfire near the dark edge of the forest, and your eyes settled on a figure near the edge. The shadows seem to cling to their lanky form. Unlike the rest of the people around you, bundled up in puffy jackets and fuzzy sweaters, this person had a thin cloak that fluttered in the moonlight. You saw peeks of red and gold. You weren’t one to judge someone on what they chose to wear to a party, but this seemed extremely out of whack. 

Then, the person cocked their head towards the forest and then disappeared into its depths. 

Now, you weren’t a stupid person to simply follow a stranger into the woods. You were more likely to end up on a crime documentary as the killer rather than the victim. But there was something in your chest that was pulling you to follow them. 

You threw your solo cup in a can after downing the rest of the contents, of course, and took long strides to meet the edge of the forest.

Fuck it, the party wasn’t that fun anyways. 

Bathed in the moonlight in a clearing was the person you had been following. The light from the moon seemed to only highlight his light-colored hair that had to be dyed because no one had hair that natural color. His dark eyes under his fringe, however, were solidly locked on you.

“I didn’t think you’d come. Perhaps they are right,” the man murmured to himself.

You sighed tiredly. “Look, if this is a ruse to kill me, I’ve got a knife in my bag, and I know exactly where to dump a body.”

The man smiled, sharp with amusement. “Quite the opposite, in fact. My name is Jeong Yunho.”

You rubbed your chest. You had felt a zing of something in your heart. What had that been? Heartburn from the neon drink?

“ ‘kay, well Yunho, I’m going to need you to be a hell of a lot less cryptic if you think this is gonna be a thing right now,” you said boldly.

Yunho cocked his head at you curiously. “It’s clear you were brought up amongst them, but you’re going to need to find a way to be less blunt if I bring you back.”

“You know, you may be really hot, but you’re not making a whole lot of sense right now. If you’re selling drugs, I’m not interested.” With that, you walked backward, not giving him the benefit of your back or seeing your ass, if you’re being honest.

The black bindings that ran down his left arm snaked out from his body as he stretched his arm out towards you. They raced along the sticks and leaves on the bare ground and finally wound around your ankles, anchoring you in your spot. 

“Leaving is not an option,” Yunho mused. “I’m afraid I can not let you have that much power over your life right now.”

You should have been scared. You knew that objectively. It wasn’t every day that a man controlling shadows wrapped you up in a forest. But you felt something slowly curling inside your chest as Yunho moved closer to you. You didn’t know exactly what it was, but something in you was telling you that Yunho would never hurt you.

Then the moonlight flashed against Yunho’s eyes, much like when a cat’s eyes reflected light and suddenly everything clicked together. The warnings your mother had told you every day that tied in with never going into the Darkling Forest.

“You’re one of them!” You exclaimed. “One of the Fae.”

“And so are you.”

You scoffed at the statement. “Please, if I was a fairy princess, I--”

“Do you have a habit of winding words and working around the truth, or spinning something into how you would like it to sound?” Yunho cut you off.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, but--”

“A darkness inside of you assuring you of your survival. A sharp mind that can thirst for blood?” Yunho continued, stepping closer and closer. 

“In my defense, that tree had it coming!”

“If you believe I’m Fae, then you know I can’t lie.”

Your mouth shut audibly. Well, he had you there. “Wouldn’t I know if I was a--”

“A changeling?” Yunho’s eyes glinted with mystery. “Haven’t you always felt like you didn’t belong?”

That one hit a little too close to home. “Why now?”

Yunho’s eyes flitted around to the darkness behind you. “They’re coming for you. We have no King or Queen. They’re worried you’ll claim the throne. They want you dead.”

It was your turn to cock your head curiously. “Then why are you here?”

Yunho pressed his lips together, looking at you, then looking at the ground. “You’re mine.”

“Excuse you?!” You shouted in surprise.

“Don’t you feel it? Our bond? They handfasted us as babies. We’re mates.”

Your hand rubbed your chest with an odd sense of warmth at Yunho’s words. “We’re mates?”

Yunho snatched your free hand. “We have to go.”

That’s how you found yourself currently, running through the dark forest with Yunho. You couldn't lie. It was very thrilling; your heart was beating out of your chest and your legs attempting to keep up with the long-legged man dragging you along. 

Then, something zoomed past your cheek, and you cried out. Yunho halted immediately but steadied you with two hands on your shoulders. Your free hand, not currently entangled with Yunho’s, rose to your cheek and came back red. 

“He’s here,” Yunho said, eyes flitting about behind you. 

“My killer? If I’m a Fae, shouldn’t I have cool powers like you? Let me help. Surely, two against one is bet--”

Yunho clamped a hand against your mouth and pushed you up against a tree. “Quiet. We have to blend into the shadows right now. It’s the only way he won’t find us.”

You watched as the shadows seemed to rise from the ground, encompassing the two of you in a bubble of opaque darkness. 

Who was the one pursuing you? You couldn't ask, of course, due to Yunho’s hand on your mouth. So you stuck your tongue out and ran it up and down his palm. Yunho sucked in some breath hard at your moist tongue, licking him, but he didn’t look down at you. That was annoying.

You dropped your jaw so you could draw some of the skin between your teeth. Yunho’s jaw clenched, but still no eye contact. 

You were about to push your hands onto his chest when a twig snapped in earshot. 

A man with long black hair, a red thread making a braid down one shoulder, and a bandolier criss-crossing his chest. He held two knives between his fingers, flipping them there as he stalked through the forest. Was that your pursuer, because if so, he was really fucking hot.

A low growl emitted from Yunho’s chest. You could feel it because of how close he was, pinning you up against the tree. His eyes were finally on you again, and they were burning with anger. 

You smirked against Yunho’s hand. Was he jealous?

Seconds ticked by as hours, but eventually, Yunho lowered his shadows and his hand on your mouth when the other man rushed off in another direction. 

“Don’t you ever look at another man like you want to fuck him in front of me ever again,” Yunho commanded.

You raised your eyebrows. “Or?”

Yunho’s shadows wrapped around your wrists and pinned them over your head against the tree. “I know you feel the bond. Do not play with me, Changeling.”

“Me? Play with you? But I’m just human raised, aren’t I? What’s that to a Fae grown up in.. the courts, I’m assuming? Do tell me how I’m besting you,” you purred.

This was fun. Maybe being a Changeling wasn’t half bad. 

Yunho’s eyes were getting darker. With what, you had a sneaky suspicion you knew. For within your bond, darkness crept through. Darkness of the way Yunho clearly wanted to possess you. His want seeped through the bond. And you wanted to provoke that. 

“Show me.”

Yunho’s nimble fingers ran along your jaw. “You want to cement this? In the middle of a forest, with a man pursuing to kill you?”

You couldn't help but grin. “Wouldn’t that go to show I’m Fae after all? Yes.”

That was all Yunho needed to flip the switch. His fingers dug into your jaw, holding your face in place, as he slanted his lips against yours. You found yourself kissing him back with equal ferocity, a hunger pushing you to be closer to him. 

Yunho grumbled angrily, fumbling at your unfamiliar clothes. Eventually, he managed to push up your sweater and bra above your boobs and was currently sucking on one nipple while massaging your other breast. 

You let out a low whine when his fingers tickled down your ribs, leaving your breast and moving to wriggle under your pants. Your hips bucked forward, looking for that friction that you were craving. 

Yunho grunted, pulling his hand from your pants.

“Wh-why?” You couldn't help but demand. 

“These offend me. They need to be out of the way.” Yunho slipped his thumbs on either side of your hips and yanked down both your pants and your underwear down to your knees. 

Knelt, his face level with your cunt, he spread your pussy lips and started to hearteningly lick at your clit. He had you mewling with the sensation, making your climax built with his skilled tongue. 

“Please, Yunho,” you moaned. “Put your fingers in me.”

This Fae was beyond frustrating. He left your cunt and stood up. You pouted that you weren’t going to feel those wonderful fingers inside of you. 

“I must claim you,” Yunho murmured under his breath. 

His hands moved to his pants and pulled them down under his balls. Your eyes widened in surprise and delight to see that he was long. Fully hard, he bounced against his stomach, and you licked your lips. The weight of him on your tongue would be wonderful, you thought to yourself. 

Yunho bent to scoop your legs from under your knees, effectively bending you in half, your back still against the tree, and your arms still wrapped in Yunho’s shadows above your head. It made it easy for him to slip along your wet folds to aid in pushing into you.

“Oh fuck,” You moaned loudly as Yunho’s cockhead pushed into your clenching hole.

Yunho slapped his hand over your mouth again. His eyes were hooded and looking down at you as he slid into you fully. “You are…so warm.” His lips pressed together, and he closed his eyes like he was taking in the moment. “So tight.”

You found yourself enjoying the domineering man melting for your pussy. You clenched down on him and elicited a moan from his beautiful lips. “Fuck me, Yunho,” You whispered. 

His eyes snapped open, dark and glittering. “It would be my pleasure.”

The tall, Fae man jackhammered into you, hips moving at a speed that was sure to split you apart. You made muffled noises of pleasure against Yunho’s hand. 

And when you sneakily licked his palm again, he pulled his hand away, if only to push his fingers into your mouth. The pads of his tongue pressed firmly down on your tongue, effectively silencing you in a different way. 

Yunho’s other hand pressed down on your stomach, and you found your bonded mate smiling at the bulge there. You only moaned again, sucking down eagerly on his fingers. The same hand pressed against your abdomen moved lower until his thumb began thrum against your clit. 

In no time, you were seeing stars. You screamed with Yunho’s fingers in your mouth. It was that good. Your heart felt so full, so complete. A string of gold showed that both your hearts were connected now, permanently with this action done in the Darkling Forest. 

Yunho pulled out and jerked himself off. He bent your body sideways and sent strings of come onto your bare stomach. He cried out with his orgasm, those pretty fingers of his making himself feel good. Yunho coming was a feast for the senses. 

“I’m…I come from…” Yunho panted as he came down from his climax. “My family is fertile. I can’t afford to come inside of you. I don’t want to share with you anyone.”

You grinned, still bent in half. “You do love me!”

Yunho’s ears turned pink at your claim. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours as he let go of your legs and released your wrists. “I…”

You patted Yunho’s cheek fondly. “That’s okay, if I’m a Fae, I’m sure we’ve got plenty of time for you to admit this to me. Now, are you going to tell me the name of the man trying to kill me?”

Yunho’s eyes darkened and giggled. This immortal life was about to become really fun.

[cyten0]

A Symphony of Crimson Masterpost

Figured this is gonna have quite a few chapters, so time to make it sort-able! Will update it as time goes on.

A combination of the carrion!sif au originally by @traumaboyexo, and an Au I was working on before, to add elements of AdventureQuest World's Astravia. Only needed reading is ISAT itself!

Siffrin is dead. And has been for a long time. But Something wants to live as them. Something that hungers. Something unnatural. But they want to stay with these people. And hope that they don't hurt them...

But Monsters rarely get what they want.

[Dialogue Symbol Key]

Asks are recommended! Feel free to ask away! Change and Equinox will happily deliver said asks to the party. You can also ask the Scale questions, as they have tech to talk to Change!

#Symphony!Asks is the tag I use for ask questions.

Character Ref and art: [Siffrin? and Loop] [The Scale] [A fallen star]

[Scale voice ref]

The following are links to the chapters released on tumblr, which are outdated or innacurate somewhat. The accurate version is on AO3, but these are kept as an archive of old writing choices!

[Prelude]

Act 1: Movement in Black

Ch: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18][19] [20] [21] [22] [?]

Act 2: Movement in White (Optimally read A-B, A-B)

A Side: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [8]

B Side: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Interludes and Misc moments

[End of a World]

[weylerwritingevents]

🌿Wyler Spring Fest 2024🌿

We are finally back with another wyler event - this time, in celebration of spring!

In spirit of spring, the event will revolve around change, transformation, bloom and renewal. All entries must be posted by March 20th - spring equinox.

Here are some FAQs regarding the event; for any others, feel free to shoot an ask! 💚

HOW DO I SIGN UP?

no sign up needed! this event is meant to be fun and casual. Simply create and share with the fandom!

WHAT ENTRIES ARE WELCOMED?

All kinds: fanfictions (no word limit - write as little or as much as you'd like), fanart, gifsets, moodboards, playlists, prompts and all other types of creations are considered a participance.

WHAT SHOULD I CREATE THOUGH?

Ah, NOW we're getting to the good part. This event invites you to create anything that comes to mind when you think about the themes of spring, change, transformation, and renewal - but since these themes are a bit broad, here is a list of non-mandatory prompts to help you get inspired:

Changes, transformations, bloom etc. 🍃Tyler's transformations into the hyde 🍃Wednesday and Tyler adjusting to... (their new relationship, to Tyler going to Nevermore, etc) 🍃Bodyswap 🍃 Genderswap (for example Girl!Tyler) 🍃Stories (or other creations) focused on trans characters 🍃Pollens of all sorts (sex pollens, truth pollens, go crazy!) 🍃Canon divergence

Reverse tropes (the ones we know and love... reversed) ☘️too many beds ☘️fake breakup (instead of fake relationship) ☘️divorce of convenience ☘️stuck apart ☘️love/hate at second sight ☘️fuck or... live? (instead of "we have to do it or we'll die", it's "if we do it, it'll kill us") Reversal AUs 🌵Normie barista Wednesday, Nevermore student Tyler 🌵Wednesday Galpin and Tyler Addams 🌵Power swap (Wednesday becomes a hyde while Tyler gets visions) 🌵Wednesday helps Gates while Tyler is the sacrifice 🌵Thing is Tyler's. Elvis is Wednesday's

...and any other idea that comes to mind 💚

with any entry you post, make sure to tag #wylerspringfest2024, and mention the @weylerwritingevents blog. And most importantly: have fun!!!

[ask-tf-first-contact]

Welcome!

|| this is an ask blog using the First Contact idea! I will be writing in Cybertronian for the characters, but I will provide translations in tags. if you'd rather figure it out on your own, I will provide the alphabet I'm using ||

|| this blog uses my own redesigns of the characters! and an AU of my fan continuity! you can find more at @transformers-equinox / @tfe-on-break ! you can ask me about it if you want ||

|| this ask blog will feature story. I will update as I feel up to it! ||

|| if you're off anon or on anon with a sign off, you can make a design for your character! it has to be human though! or I can design one based off vibe/details you give me! ||

|| nothing big for rules. just keep it SFW and be nice to the mod! no M!A !! also you can flirt? but they won't understand you. at least not at first ||

[revenantpoet]

Malediction

Chapter Seven - Equinox (Final Chapter!) Rating: Teen Pairing: Vashwood Summary:

In the dark depths of a living cage A celestial creature is locked tight in a curse Tucked away from the living and the dead In the hell of a god’s creation With only its own thoughts for company Escape is a dream A wish But When a god prays Who answers?

A Vashwood AU of heavenly deities, painful curses, and second chances

Aka my Vashwood Reverse Bang project, written from @molten-rainbows's lovely prompts and artwork!

[imaginesofeverykind]

Witches Brew ~ Chapter 3

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Warnings: GORE, graphic descriptions oh bodily harm and maiming, magic described as visceral, catholic-centric monotheism demonised, 18+ minors DNI

Tags: DnD Homebrew Fusion AU, Targaryens are noblefolk, Aegon is a werewolf

Word Count: 4.6k

Chapter Song: Quagmire - Satin Puppets

Series Masterlist

Thayhelm passes almost as quickly as Melthare, the two seasonal holidays sneaking out from nowhere like an unseen strike where once you would be on top of the yearly festivals. Perhaps if Auntie had been around, she would have had a better sense of the time around her and urged you to join her in celebration of the spiritually sound holidays. You still celebrated, only barely recognizing the Autumn Equinox on account of the spiritual vestiges that roamed around the swamp in search for nothing you could provide. 

As a child Thayhelm was your favourite holiday, the spirits in the swamp came from many and took on shapes that weren’t of the prime material realm. It was as close to Fey as you could imagine without falling victim and becoming a lost and trapped soul within the cursed labyrinth of the Feywilds. The spirits often flocked to the Elder Tree, its beacon of energy attracting those roaming near like moths to candle fire. 

Dead Winter Day was fastly approaching and you’ve made a point to remember to travel out to the shrine of Ornmir and celebrate. The first Midwinter you will be alone, no Auntie to help guide you through the hymns of winter and the offering you’d need to prepare. It wasn’t as though you felt incompetent, you - like the spirits that roam during Thayhelm - felt lost.

And yet, you found yourself feeling the opposite when the moon became full and Aegon would arrive on your horribly deteriorating porch — what would Auntie think? Firstly, she would go on an admonishing rant about the state of the hut which had only worsened since her departure. What once lay a stately cottage, now groaned with wood rot and crackled from the termite infestation. ‘Look after your belongings’ You can hear her reprimand in the shrill voice of your mind, as though any of the hut felt like it belonged to you. 

Secondly, she would lecture you on your attachment that had grown toward Aegon over the months since meeting him, warning that things like this may be highly sought after but they were only a means to distract oneself from embracing full potential. ‘Magic makes us whole, not the inevitable absence of others’ She had once said, cryptic as Auntie was known to be, you could easily decipher that it was a warning to sway far from the whims of earthly attachments. 

You reluctantly and silently agreed, magic is what made you who you are. A man who barely crossed your path months ago was not something to become attached to. But, the thought flew through your mind like a sin, a flash of wickedness and betraying the memory of Auntie — she was no longer here, it wouldn’t hurt to humour the feelings of warmth or fullness that came whenever Aegon was around.. 

And that is where your mind lingered, on harmless guilty pleasure. Trivial, menial things like brewing a different potion to help him sleep better after a grueling transformation under the moon or to be more mindful of cooking meals that were less of the slop that mirrored the marshy quagmires but more familiar to him. For comfort, you told yourself when the creeping feeling of embarrassment washed over as though it was foolish for thinking like this. 

A knock at the door pulled you from spiraling further into the paralysis you found yourself in more frequently. A slight hiccup bloomed in your gut and heart, who could it be? A face flashed in your mind and it became clear who you wished it might be but the footsteps and the knock weren’t familiar to your ears. And the full moon had only passed a mere week ago. 

Appearing, from thin air, as you so often did behind the guest on the porch and it was quite the surprise. The broad and tall Holy Knight was almost unrecognizable, but that wasn’t the cause for the feelings of unease and trouble brewing within you. His holy sigil branded on the tunic beneath his shining armour and imprinted on the cloak that swayed softly in the breeze. 

“Squire boy,” you muse, teasingly. The nickname you recall Auntie used when he had visited a decade prior, he was a young man then, though now he had grown more into his features and looked regal in the armour he donned. 

He turned to regard you, a steely look in his eyes and it occurred that there was no longer the boyish charm he once had when he first visited. Time had been kind to his features but not to his mind, it seemed. Repugnant religious interference had snuffed out what gratitude and reverence he had prior as he looked down on you with the same look of contempt you get from the villagers whenever you descend into the towns. 

“Hag,” he sneers, it was clear he was not here for niceties anymore. Once a young man, now a Holy Knight. “Where is your elder?” His dark eyes watch you carefully meander around him, as if waiting for a chance to strike you down or even an excuse to do so. 

Gods, you restrain yourself from rolling your eyes, he’s become boring. 

“Gone,” shrugging lazily, you look at his greatsword, far too big to be sheathed. The pommel molded with the same sigil as his cloak and tunic. “Has the church decided to retroactively smite her for helping your master all those years ago?” You taunt, thinking that his arrival was odd enough without his dreadful aura bringing a damper to your day. 

He ignores your jape, completely, eyes scanning for any signs of life in the hut. “Gone is she? Gone where?” He accuses, as if you were hiding her away or simply being dishonest about her whereabouts. 

“Somewhere,” you shrug, “but not here.” 

“Hm,” his jaw tightens, reaching across his body to a concealed pouch and presenting a small wicker doll. “This be your handy work then, witch?” It was made with care for the craft, no amateur could bind the twigs together with an astute precision like this but it was definitely not of your own creation. The weave pattern was unfamiliar, different than what you’d seen before. Not even Auntie’s technique looked like this. 

“Afraid not dear Squire,” not even the runestone tied to the chest on the doll looked familiar. It wasn’t troubling to you however, many travelers come and go and it wasn’t the first time a witch or wizard passed through and left signs of their presence. 

“You may call me Ser Criston – and how is it that Lord Visery’s suddenly falls ill, no recovery in sight and one of our lord priests finds this?” He presses, clearly trying to milk some confession from you but your resolve remains unchanged. It was benign if anything, a wicker doll could mean anything from good tidings to something as malevolent as blood magic – which you were versed in but this was not your doing. 

Plainly it very well might be a targeted attack on the Lord of Oldtown, but the possibility of it meaning good health was higher. 

Your shoulders rose and fell in another lazy shrug. To be perfectly honest, it seemed on par for the zealots to make something out of nothing to this degree for the purpose of fear mongering. They denounce magic as devil work and try to ignore its existence but the moment it seems targeted they are suddenly believers. 

“Clearly I am an innocent, though I can sense how badly you wish to have me burnt in the city square. No evidence means no charge, even a religious fanatic as yourself can honour law. Or has your false God decided he is above law?” 

He reached forward, in an attempt to grip the hem of your cloak. But as his fingertips grazed the top of your collar bone, you had disappeared in a puff of mist, materializing behind him with a grin, tisking his behaviour. “My my, your temper has risen Squire boy. Run along back to your iron castle and false god empty handed… The Witch of the Swamp has no answers for you here.” 

“You may be proven guilty yet,” he spun around to face you, upper lip curled in a nasty sneer, “tell me this then – what bewitchment have you put on the Lord’s son Aegon? I was aware of his lustful escapades to the whorehouses and taverns yet he returns to the swamp. What vile deceit do you poison him with?”

Hah, you snort, face contorting into a grimace, “and you care oh so much about the little lordling? Feigning concern does not exempt you or the people for what lay in truth; He was a sinner long before he found me in the eyes of you zealots. But it is ever convenient to have a reason to blame for his frivolities, is it not?”

He nods, a faint smirk on his lips that waned into a contemptuous smile with nostrils flared, “count your days little hag, once the church finds you guilty of maleficium and magical interference you will burn in the square.” His broad torso had begun twisting as he made his descent down the rickety steps of the porch.

“If,” you say aloud, causing him to turn back, a smug smile spreads across your face that twists into a sinister snarl, “get out of my swamp.” 

A threat he happily obliged.

***

The winter winds that cast down from the nearby mountainous ranges brought a merciless bite, winter had come with a vengeance and it had only been steadily getting worse. You had yet to see Aegon since the incident of the Holy Knight, Criston, who had darkened the doorstep of the hut and brought with him empty threats under the guise of religious intervention. Perhaps in the beginning, your intention with Aegon had been merely a spiteful jab at the Lord of the land and his family. Even then, your intention was to never cause death even if it would be incredibly easy to do so. 

So the Lord Visery’s fell ill? That couldn’t be helped. It was in the hands of fate now whether the man lived or died. All you did was take a mere part of him, the fault should not befall you if his own wounds weren’t tended to properly because the healers were inept.

The harmonious bleating of a distant Nymphernal carries you from your thoughts, a soft reminder that while the creatures of the Swamp were friendly, you were out alone and trudging barefoot through thick marshy glades of still water. It was not quite Dead Winter Day, the midmark of winter and yet you felt a pull to the shrine of Ornmir to pay respects and present an offering. It would be the first time you would venture alone to this area of the Swamp, no longer under the guidance of Auntie who had long disappeared. 

To where? That was unclear. One morning you awoke and she had simply gone. 

Perhaps on another worldly pilgrimage, or perhaps to take her own life. The only indication you had ever known that this may happen is when she instructed you to not miss her if she were to ever leave. But you did. 

Hidden behind the thick shield of clouds, the sun sat at her highest though her warmth nigh be felt from down below where you silently yearned for it. Though you trudged triumphantly, mud and clag squishing up between your toes and sticking to the bottom of your dress where the rips and tethers sat. The hunting song of the Stymphalian echoes through the treetops, no doubt as it prepares to descend on its prey, you were just a girl when nursing the small bird back to health, now you could only imagine the monstrous size it got to. 

A local superstition cited, to hear the hunting song of the Stymphalian was a bad omen, and despite never feeding into the poppycock drivel of townsfolk, there must have been some merit to this superstition. The overgrown path that many years ago was used as a trade route between two of the smaller towns now lay abandoned and its only purpose served as the spiritual shrine of Ornmir. 

Only the shrine had been destroyed. By what or who was unknown. 

Perhaps the townsfolk are right, the only thought you had upon setting eyes on the blighted site. But now, it seemed, you finally had an answer for why Ornmir had grown aggressive. Only a person with intent can wrought this much destruction on a stone and wood shrine, but that hardly narrowed down the culprit. 

That afternoon you spent silently restoring the shrine back to its original form, proving to be more difficult than initially thought but your resolve strengthened despite it. Blood Magic came easy. Green Magic, even easier. Mending spiritual monuments to appease a now wrathful spirit? Harder than one would think. 

When you finished and bowed your head, the sun began waning and with it; her light. With darkness approaching it was wise for you to return to the hut, yet your feet carried you elsewhere. An unseen feeling tugging at you in the form of soft incomprehensible whispers. You weren’t being bewitched that was clear, you could still control yourself but the feeling was one that couldn’t be shaken.

In the distance, another hunting call from the Stymphalian cawed tauntingly.

Urgently, you walk through the swamp, a feeling of light distress that felt foreign as though it weren’t your own. The thrumming drone of the tree drowned out your own heartbeat and singled in on an anomaly, as you drew near it became clearer what– who the anomaly was. 

“Aegon?” You whisper softly, a hand bracing the trunk of a tree as your eyes cast downward on the man in a curled up position. Hardly recognisable and it wasn’t on account of the muck that covered him from head to toe or his ripped clothes. His torso was grotesquely hunched, spine malformed and breaching through the skin similarly to his limbs that disproportionately elongated, causing the skin to tear. 

His eyes, though, remain the same as they look up at you, beading with tears. You drop to your knees and understand immediately what’s happened, and partially blame yourself for not warning him that this would happen some way or another. This soon though? Was what caught you off guard. 

You place a gentle hand on his arm, “this will be greatly uncomfortable, I apologise.” A string of words fall from your lips in a hiss that echoed in a whirlwind, coming from every angle and direction that encased the both of you until shrouded and the surroundings melt from the deep swamp. He cries out in pain but the strain on his vocal chords doubled over each other creating a monstrous yawp that sounded anything but human. 

The swamp seemingly disintegrates from the power of your unwavering muttering, a black void filling its place for a brief time before the inside of your hut melts into the view. Your head spins for a short second, a stabbing pain following in your chest but that did not concern you nearly as much as Aegon. 

“What is happening to me?” He bleats, voice strained through his gritted teeth which were more jagged and fiendish than human. His body trembled incessantly though he tried to suppress it by hugging himself, looking to you for an answer. It almost felt cruel to tell him, on top of monthly transformations and mood swings, that there was yet another caveat for this curse. 

“Let me help first, I’ll take away your pain.” You promise quietly, rushing over to the cabinet collecting jars of phoenix ashes, slime mucus, hydra scales. All of them became a blur as you quickly swiped them into your arms and collected the mortar and pestle. “This… this is highly unusual to occur so early.” You murmur quietly, shakily pouring ingredients into the mortar. 

He groans aggressively, chest rising and falling with each of his staggered breaths as if he were urging you to hurry up. You unclasp the obsidian dagger attached to your belt and another set of ornate tools, similar to that of pliers and look on the writhing man with sorrow, “my apologies for this, it will help I promise.” With a gentle touch you hold his hand and stretch his malformed fingers, black claws poke out of the ends where his nails would otherwise be.

Your lower lip is sucked between your teeth in a deep concentration when you settle the pliers on one claw. “What are you–” he barely pants out when you rip the nail from his finger with a brutal force, he screams out in agony and the immediate response is for him to retaliate but he can only writhe further in pain. Bones cracking harder, bellows becoming breathier. 

Adding the nail to the paste marked that it was nearing ready for consumption. You had only ever seen this type of healing solution made once, and the very process of it left a scar embedded into the recess of your memory. Sparing Aegon a glance, you look at him cautiously, “I advise you to look away, this is unsightly but necessary.” 

Though you do not keep a gaze on him to confirm if he watches on or not, bringing the obsidian blade to your throat and in a swift motion, slit through your throat and lean forward over the paste. The gurgling sounds made the process appear far more worse than it was, as you recall Auntie doing something similar when tasked with healing a Holy Knight who visited after losing his fighting arm in battle while you were tasked with distracting the young Squire accompanying him. Needless to say, you were unsuccessful. Auntie’s gurgled grunts and waterfall of blood forever etched into your mind, a reminder that the magic you do was part of you.

Once the mortar is filled, thick with the crimson viscous of your own blood, you place a hand over the self-inflicted wound and mutter to yourself, still gurgling through the iron tang sitting in your mouth. A witches body could handle damage tenfold so long as it were for ritual, protection or magic, as it was a vessel for said magic, every aspect of it. Torso drenched and sticky now remain the only indicator of the injury placed on yourself, not even a scar remained in its place. 

Finally, mixing everything together, you smear the repugnant salve on the back of a dreamlily leaf and bring it to his lips. Though you could not blame his apprehension after witnessing the obscene display before him for not wanting to ingest the mixture you held. “Trust me, it will help.”

He was fearful, ever so slightly and his nod was almost so non-existent you nearly missed it. With a gentle hand, you begin to slowly feed it through his lips. Your other hand, despite besmirched with blood, ran softly through his once pristine silver hair to help soothe him, just as Auntie often would to help lull you after night terrors or when you fell ill. It was unusually maternal of her but it was the only way to get you to settle.

There was rescinding silence as his groans of pain ceased, one could almost mistake it as if he had passed away, but his tearful eyes with blood vessels burst highlighting the violet within them were open and looking around the hut. Physically he may be present and well, but mentally and spiritually the paste had sent him elsewhere, to a realm of existence that exceeded physical barriers like pain. The husk of his body remained, vulnerable to anything including yourself which is why you set off around the hut to cast protective wards, sparing him several glances as you did so. 

***

A vast void thrumming with echoes of magic assaulted your senses. It was jarring. Everywhere you looked there was nothing. Inside the centre of a dying star. Within the core of the prime realm. Imbedded inside the darkest pit of the underdark. Neither of those were quite right, no, the airy feeling as though you were made from gas indicated otherwise. Dreamlike as the sensation was, it was anything but. You were trapped deep within your mind, a hidden pocket dimension tucked away and concealed by magic that was not your own. 

“Auntie?” Your voice carried on, repeating for what seemed like leagues ahead of where you stood into the bottomless and endless void. The sound of magic rippled and cracked, like vines being snapped, the volume of it causing you to cringe and cover your ears. Is this what being consumed by magic felt like? At its very core, is this where your magic lie within?

Though no answer to your thoughts or calls. Just you and the Void. It was surreal, a surge of fear shot through you like a jolt of electricity. Am I stuck like this? The sensation, the oppression of it all felt overwhelming. Am I dead? You begin to think and wonder if during your slumber Aegon or someone else ended your life—

“Bramble.” 

The softest whisper, distorted through the shadowy abyss. Though it bounced all around and was difficult to pinpoint the direction of its origin. Left? Right? Up? Down? Perhaps there was one God after all, and this was the eternal punishment for blasphemy and devil craft.

”Bramble.”

Much clearer was the voice now, to the right, you affirm and feel yourself move though you do not appear to walk, merely you just are heading right. And though the void felt all encompassing all at once, there was loneliness stowing away within — the voice was not an indication that someone was close.

”Bramble.”

It was right behind you now, like a vacuum of space and time that pulled and ripped you from the chasm of oblivion. Blinding light searing deep into your eyes along with the acrid smell of familiarity binding you to the prime realm once again. Eyes of an angel come to vision, a battle beaten face of someone who must be of celestial ancestry but the unmistakable violet colour of the eyes say otherwise. 

The voice pulling you from limbo belonging to the very creature before you. No longer the monstrous amalgamation of man and beast, but a light at the end of a cavern, ascending you from the deepest crevasse within your mind. His very being a beacon of hope coiled within the remnants of a broken man, and you begin to think for the first time that fate has intertwined the two of you somehow for this feeling to be so pure. 

His face is close, commanding your field of view but even without him doing so you could tell very clearly that the void was no more and you had returned to the present realm. 

”You ‘lright then?” He says before leaning back into the bed, his expression one that could be either concern or inconvenience it was hard to tell. The dark circles under his eyes looked as bad as the ones you felt under your own eyes. Sleep clearly evading you both. 

“Yeah,” You softly utter, clearing the collating gunk from the bottom of your throat with a cough. The windows displayed a distinctly dark bog from the outside though it was difficult to tell if only a few hours passed or if a whole day had passed. “You’re back to normal,” it felt less like a comforting observation and more like a jipe considering he would never be back to normal. But, you supposed this was to be his new normal. 

He laughs dryly, wincing while shuffling to a spot of more comfort, seemingly like he read your mind and was inclined to agree with you. “Your eyes… did this strange thing. Like there was light trapped inside you, wanting to get out… I thought for a moment divine intervention happened and your soul was being exercised.” 

A laugh escapes your lips, “piety does not suit you very well.” Your eyes graze along his body, inspecting for any signs remaining of his partial transformation. The clothes that lay on him were barely holding together, his torso might as well be laid bare and his pantaloons left nothing to the imagination. Your scrutinizing gaze must have made him uncomfortable as he seemed to flush red with embarrassment and cover himself with the thin blanket. 

Sighing, you stand up, his gaze following you carefully and curiously. He did this often, everytime he would arrive for the full moon and the two days that followed he did a lot of watching. At first you thought you disliked the constant eyes, peering over your shoulders or beneath the kitchen table but the longer he did it, the less it felt like surveillance and more just curiosity. 

You return to him with two identical bottles in hand, wax sealing the corks at the opening to prevent them leaking but also to prolong the viscous liquids effects. “Take these back with you when you go, it’ll help,” placing them on the table, your fingers linger over them for a moment, “do you know what happened… yesterday?” 

His head falls back against the pillow, staring up at the various dried herbs dangling from the ceiling, “I have an idea… I was transforming, wasn’t I? Is that — that’s not normal, is it?” His eyes dart around the hut, craning his neck to watch you by the hearth heating up a cauldron. 

“Somewhat,” you answer quietly, the heat from the fire encasing you in a warm caress before abandoning it to return to Aegon’s bedside, a hot cloth in hand. “To suffer under the curse of the Lycan is to surrender body and soul to the beast. The moon commands you yes… but there is a beast within you, and if controlled properly can extend to hybrid forms that don’t require the full moon's command.”  

“But… I didn’t have control,” his eyebrows crease together, “I was… I was angry. My mother… she —,” he stopped himself, the look that fell from the frown pressed into his lips to the creases on his forehead indicated it wasn’t something he wished to speak about, and it wasn’t something you wished to press him on so you nod silently. 

With the steaming cloth in your hand, you softly begin to pat away at his forehead, gently removing the dried up flecks of blood after the day prior’s harrowing ordeal. “A beast is quick to anger,” the saying was something you recall Auntie musing about once, though in reference to the ever grumpy crocodile that frequented its favourite sunspot by the elder tree. 

“Don’t let Aemond hear you say that, he may show offense,” Aegon tiredly jested, a smile tugging at his cracked lips.

”I fear if he had been stuck with this burden then perhaps Oldtown would end in ruin,” the thought had occurred many times since that woeful night, “alas, infant lycanthropes tend to show signs of hybrid transformations after an entire seasonal rotation. It was not something I anticipated happening so soon… it will get easier over time and less painful.” 

“How do you know?”

”Because that is what I do, I gather ingredients, cast spells and know things.” You smile at him, hand absently caressing his cheek above the steaming cloth and begin to wonder what it would’ve been like if fate entwined the two of you earlier than the blightful event that brought your lives together. 

—— Taglist ——

(Lemme know if you wanna be tagged!)

@karlachs-soldier @serving-targaryen-realness @deltamoon666 @bogbutteronmycroissant

[tsspromptmonth]

Next order, a herbal tea with starfruit, loganberry and kiwi sirup, heavy cream and chocolate shavings.

Which translates to a magic au with Janus/Logan/Remus, fluff and mutual pining

Comments from:

Injury, https://archiveofourown.org/works/60217420

A Time of Gods (And Men!), https://archiveofourown.org/works/60271312

The Eagle and The Owl, https://archiveofourown.org/works/60248794

As Above, So Below, https://archiveofourown.org/works/60250324

Hop, Skip and a Skitter, https://archiveofourown.org/works/60306901

The Sunshine After it Rains, https://archiveofourown.org/works/60360706

Striking Fear, https://archiveofourown.org/works/60257296

No strings attached, https://archiveofourown.org/works/60299038

plenty of fish in the sea, https://archiveofourown.org/works/60249565/chapters/153747844

Allies and enemies, https://archiveofourown.org/works/60323167

Order up!

Equinox by The Lighthouse Chronicles

[kitsunegeddon]

THE PROMPTS ARE HERE!

Found Family

Gods/ Godhood au

Body Modifications/ Transformations

Time/Dimensional Travel

Setting Things on Fire

We got 58 votes this time, where y'all coming from?

Reminder that these prompts are OPTIONAL, if they don't work for you feel free to do something else! Pipe foxes, kitsune, nogitsune, etc, are all also welcome!

Feel free to join the server if you want to meet other fox enthusiasts, maybe get weekly reminders, and just hang out.

Happy creating! See y'all on the equinox~

[tfe-on-break]

funky guy!!

[thelastspeecher]

bluefrostyy replied to your post: “Btw the latest AU idea is "what if Stan was a...”

I need infoooo why is stan a horse? He and angie transform? Why

​essentially, in this AU (which I am officially dubbing the Horse Boy Stan AU bc I find that funny), the McGuckets are sort of werehorses.

(that's what Stan dubs them, bc Stan asks them what they call themselves, and they just sort of shrug)

but instead of full moons, they transform the day before, day of, and day after equinoxes and solstices. they are forced into horse form dawn of the day before, and can return to human at dusk the day after. so for essentially three straight days, they're stuck in horse form. outside of this time, they are able to switch between horse and human form at will. once they get some practice with it, of course!

they are werehorses because, generations ago, when the McGuckets still lived in Ireland, a McGucket successfully rode a kelpie without being bucked off or drowned. this won the kelpie over, who married the McGucket and granted the McGucket bloodline a "gift": the ability to transform into horses. they're forced into horse form around equinoxes and solstices bc during those times, the barrier between the mortal realm and the fae realm is thin, and magic is stronger.

Stan can transform bc he rides a McGucket and doesn't get bucked off. during his homeless days, his car breaks down while he's being chased by the cops. he leaves the car and runs on foot, eventually coming across the McGucket horse ranch.

(the McGuckets have a horse ranch instead of a farm, bc, well, they have a connection with horses.)

at the ranch, he sees a horse just sort of chilling, not in a paddock, and watching him without any fear, just curiosity. I tend to headcanon that Stan is afraid of horses, but in this moment, he's more afraid of bullets than horses. so he climbs on the horse and manages to get it to take him to a nearby forest, where he waits out the cops. then he rides the horse back to his car. the horse, who was constantly trying to buck Stan off and even trying to bite him, to no avail, slams its hooves on the hood of the car and then kicks it for good measure before running away.

a few hours later, at dusk, Stan turns into a horse himself. because the horse wasn't a regular horse, it was Angie McGucket, who was just chilling in horse form as she is wont to do.

[forthedancingandthethriving]

Equinox's Journey

The game that Root ended up falling into in the Small Town Hero AU. It's the developers copy, and she was hastily added in the newest patch for all servers.

It would follow the story as Hilde(F)/Xavier(M)/Arun(NB) as they traverse the lands in the hope of ending the fued between Kaiah and Mar. Root came in the newest update after the protagonist was expelled from the Espi Empire after trying to reveal its corruption.

It's a game similar in style to Genshin Impact, but.. better.

Hilde/Xavier/Arun

The protagonist of Equinox's Journey. The protagonist is choosable and customizable, but the creator's version (the one Root fell into) is coded to have all three. Their standard looks are brown hair, blue eyes, and a standard mage's outfit.

Hilde is the female protagonist.

Xavier is the male protagonist.

Arun is the gender neutral protagonist.

The protagonist was originally the Celestial Mage of the Espi Empire, keeping it safe from Kaiah and Mar. However, after stumbling upon the emperor plotting with cultists to allow monsters to invade, the protagonist rebelled. They were banished following this, though the people who believe them (other playable characters) come with.

In the new update, called 'The Dragon that Faces the Earth and Sea', follows the protagonist as they head to Shorefront to meet the 'Dragon' that can go against the minions of Kaiah and Mar without being hurt.

Ardi

Ozymandias's opposite in this world. He's a giant snake made of rocks, known for causing earthquakes and splitting the ear from his mere presence. He's Kaiah's favorite creation, and often clashes against Ersa.

Ersa

Leto's opposite in this world. She's a giant sea shake made of water and seaweed, known for causing typhoons and giant whirlpools with a flick of her tail. She's Mar's favorite creation and often clashes against Ardi.

The Dragon that Faces the Earth and Sea

The update follows the protagonist as they make their way to Shorefront and get to witness the 'Dragon of Shorefront' in action. It's a beautiful dragon that oddly has no wings. It's scales are a pristine white. Soft white horns twister and curled, almost like the branches of a grand tree, and around the smaller branches were pure white vines. The creature's claws were long and sharp, yet scuffed and dull.

Once the monster is defeated, the protagonist introduces themselves the dragon, who transforms and reveals herself to be called Root Mallory. She's very reluctant to help out the protagonist, and a lot of it is trying to convince her. During this, Root's inability to remember her past comes to light, and the protagonist (and fandom) believe her to be a Beyonder, someone who came from another world.

However, she and the protagonist eventually uncover a plot from a noble, and it gives Root the amount of trust she needs to agree to leave Shorefront and come.

The protagonist places a spell so that Shorefront is protected from the monsters, and the party sets off. But not before being met by a Wandering Arcanist and a Wandering Merchant, both in cloaks. The Wandering Arcanist warns the protagonist that they may have more things to worry about in the future. More pressing than the Espi Empire and Kaiah and Mar.

After that, they vanish. There are some people who comment that Root looks pretty seemingly similar to SMG4!Root, but their concerns are drowned out. After all, the update is great!

(But the developers don't even know who the hell the Wandering Arcanist and the Wandering Merchant are meant to be.. they don't even have models about them..! Oh, well. At least people like the update.

[queenofcarrots]

After they defeat Palpatine and escape from Exegol together, Rey and Ben make their way to Dagobah. When Rey leaves Ben there to check in with the Resistance, something goes terribly wrong. Will their love survive?

✨Death and Reincarnation 💖Love conquers all 🔥Ben's a planet but they find a way

A Canon-Divergent Swamp Thing AU in which Ben becomes Dagobah and then he and Rey have sex aka PLANETLO

[imarvelatstars]

A Little More Alive

Pairings: Daiyu Veteran Tai x gn!Reader

Content: werewolf reader, medieval/fantasy au, clones speak mando'a māori (translations at the end), some violence, vaguely halloween themed

Word Count: 5.6k

originally posted sept. 26th, 2023

[ao3 link]

The people in this town are a fearful lot - superstitious, suspicious of everything and everyone around them. They fear the woods more than anything. There is some sense in this fear, after all there are things that lurk in the shadows there that no human ought to comprehend. But the woods are not evil. They bring life to everything they touch, shelter for those in need, food for all, and the forest floor is often dappled with puddles, creeks, and ponds.

To you, it's home. Cool in the summers, pleasant and abundant in the spring and autumn, but the winters are hard. You tend to spend your winters in town instead because here there are fires, hearths decorated with cast iron pots that overflow with stews and warm, hearty meals that fill your belly and leave you satisfied. It's not so bad here. But it is lonely.

There is no family to stay with, no parent to hold you on chilly nights and now siblings to offer their comfort when you fall to your lowest, and there is no one to tell your secrets to. The townsfolk are wary of you, but friendly enough when they need to be, when they want something from you.

"Stranger, I need a hare for my family." "I need a deer for the equinox feast." "Get me the best fowl you can find, hunter, and I'll make it worth your while."

Not all of them are greedy, but most of them are. Not him, though. He's not like the others. The chill of the autumn and winter months lingers in their eyes year round, but his eyes are warm. They remind you of the undergrowth in the forest. The frogs and their tadpoles bathing in the mud, the squirrels and birds that build their homes in the tree trunks, the color of the leaves as they turn and fall. The hearth in midwinter, when the fire is sparking and the wood turns to embers, and the bread bakes in the oven and cracks and steams in your hands. He's kind, this man who sits in the dirt everyday and asks for the things he cannot afford.

You wonder if a man like him, with kindness in his bones, would still be so if he knew your secret. If he knew who it was that left him scraps in the dark of the night. You hope he isn't like the others in this regard, but you're too afraid to ever try and find out. For now, your secret is safe and your friend is, too.

This night is the first that's been properly cold. The weather has been fickle this week, hot one day and cool the next, but never dipping too low. Tonight, however, it's caught everyone by surprise. Some families haven't gathered enough firewood yet, so their chimneys aren't smoking. The few stragglers still out after dark are shivering in their boots, too cold to notice the shadow darting by or the coat of wolf fur around your shoulders.

You make into the forest and strip off your clothes, fold them neatly and tuck them into a hollow in a fallen trunk, then you lay out the fur on the moss and curl up on top of it, waiting. It takes a moment for you to relax, but once you do, you feel something stir deep in your stomach. You've waited too long to transform, put it off for too many days. It's going to be painful this time.

And it is. Your bones creak and snap before reknitting themselves into a wolf's skeleton, this is how it always is, but it hurts so much more than it has in ages. Your joints are sore and your gums hurt where your teeth have transformed into canines, your spine aches right where your tail sprouts out, and your muscles are on fire. But finally, it's over and you feel like yourself again.

The moon is only half full and doesn't illuminate the earth enough for human eyes, but for your eyes it's perfect. You can hear everything, every twitch of a whisker, every twig snapped underfoot, every heartbeat going pitter patter, and you can see the glassy, frightened eyes of little critters hiding beneath overgrown ferns.

You hunt. There is an old hare whose mate died earlier this month. HIs sorrow is so strong that you can smell it and it makes him slow. It's better to take his life than the life of the mother around the bend; she guards five tiny little hearts going pitter patter and that is a line you cannot, will not cross. You thank the old hare for his life and the life he will now be able to give to others, and then you move on. His body rests by the tree trunk that holds your clothes. Soon he's joined by a pair of chipmunks, a squirrel, another hare, and a bird whose wing never healed right. Most of your finds will go to those in town - the single mother making stew for her children, the angry old grandfather who lives in the smithy and yells at everyone, the young widower and his baby girl - but you always save something.

The chipmunks and bird are dropped off first, then the squirrel, then one of the hares.

"There you are," he rumbles, the tiny fire he's built illuminating the dimples in his cheeks when he turns to look at you. "Was wondering where you'd gone off to."

Your paws pad lightly on freshly fallen leaves, and the hare falls at the man's feet. You nudge it lightly with your nose before sitting back on your hind legs.

"For me, hm?"

You pant. It's your way of saying "yes, of course".

"That's very generous for an old veteran."

If you were human, you'd roll your eyes. As a wolf, you settle for a moody huff and leave it at that. He often says things like this when you come visit him, that he's old and not worth your time, that a handsome young wolf like yourself ought to be spending time with its pack instead of visiting him. He speaks sometimes of days long past when he was younger and stronger, a soldier in the Emperor's legion, but never enough for you to grasp what happened to him or why he's now a pauper who can only beg for scraps.

But you can sense things in this form that your human form can't. All your senses are more finely attuned, sharper, clearer. You can smell the pain he hides. It's stronger when it's cold. Perhaps the weather makes it worse. Whatever it is, it's in his leg. It seems to radiate from his ankle, up his shin, and into his thigh.

"You must be hungry after all that hunting," he says as he pokes at the fire. The tray he uses to collect coins and food from the locals is balanced above it. He then pats the space beside him. "Stay. We'll share."

A wolf's face cannot flush with heat or embarrassment the way that a human's can, but the quickened beating of the heart is the same, the rush of hormones in the blood. Do you panic, do you stay, do you go? You want to stay. You like him. He's the safest thing you have beyond the forest. But he's no fool. He must know you're no ordinary wolf. Wild wolves aren't like you, they aren't nearly as friendly and nowhere near as considerate. And he speaks to you like you understand him, like he can hear the very human thoughts running through your head.

"Stay, wuruhi. I won't bite." His tone is soft and his mouth is smiling. He probably thinks he's funny.

"I shouldn't be seen with you," you say, but it comes out more like "rrrrrgh oooowa". It could be dangerous for him if you linger. But then you pause, trace your eyes over his profile as the fire illuminates it, you see the creases by his eyes and the gray in his beard. You wonder if he's as lonely as you are here. You wonder if it wouldn't be so bad to stay for a bit, just this once.

You huff again, somewhere between irritated and resigned, and walk around the edge of the fire to come to his other side. You have to be gentle, you don't want to jostle him too much and make him hurt more, but finally you find a comfortable position and rest your chin on his thigh. The pain still radiates through his sinew and bone, but you sense his body react to your warmth almost immediately. Hopefully this will help.

The night is soon filled with the smell of cooked rabbit. He feeds you for the first time since this unofficial partnership began. He's hesitant at first, and wisely so, but he doesn't need to be afraid of you. You'd never do a thing to hurt him.

It's easy to drift to sleep then with your belly mostly full and the fire warming your paws and nose. His body is soft and comfortable, like something you've been longing for all this time but never even knew was possible to have. His hand is broad and warm when it settles atop your head just between your ears, and you find yourself thinking that this is... nice. Better than the forest and better than the tavern full of raucous drunkards.

Everything is warm when you wake up, almost stiflingly so. Your entire torso is nearly overheated, although your limbs and nose are a little cooler than that. Your first thought is that you added too many layers when you went to bed last night, but then you properly open your eyes and see that you're outside. It's startling for a moment, but not entirely unexpected. You've fallen asleep outside after more arduous transformations before. But that doesn't seem right. You don't remember falling asleep in the forest, and you realize now that you're not even in the forest, you're...

The weary veteran is snoring behind you. The sun has crested above the trees and hilltops and distant mountains. It's daytime and the moon is gone, and you're still a wolf, but you're out in the open. Exposed. Visible. Vulnerable. His little camp is just on the edge of town by the main path that leads to other towns and kingdoms beyond this one. Anyone could see, anyone could ask.

You wriggle up and out of his arms in an instant, tail tucked between your legs as you start to panic. You're so disoriented from your heavy sleep that for a moment, you can't remember where your things are. Your clothes, your shoes. The things that make you human. Where are they? What if someone sees you? What if they know, somehow, just what you are? What if, what if, what if-?

The leaves and dirt scrape and shift behind you, and you turn on your heels, teeth bared and ears pinned back, ready to fight, only to see him. The veteran. His bark brown eyes and ember sparked freckles. His hands are raised and he's withdrawn into the little fence he'd fallen asleep against.

"Easy, wuruhi, easy. 's just me."

Your mouth snaps shut and your ears prick forward a bit. You'd never hurt him. Never. It hurts to think that you've scared him, but you don't have time for this, you have to get out of there before someone sees.

He tilts his head to the side just slightly, likely eyeing the fur that's raised along the ridge of your spine and tail. "What's got you worked up? Hm?"

A rooster crows just inside town. A sharp breeze whistles between the houses and barns. The nearest house creaks when its front door opens. You turn to run and you don't look back.

You make it back to the tavern and you don't leave until hours later, not until your heartbeat has evened out and the adrenaline has stopped pumping through your veins and you stop hearing voices clamoring to chase you out of town.

That was too close. You let your guard down. You can't afford to do that again. As much as you don't like some of the people here, this town gives you a purpose to focus your time on, people to interact with and casual friendships to make, the money you need for clothes and finer, pretty things that you aren't able to craft.

You sigh as you press your forehead to the door of your room.

You can't let yourself close to him like that again. It's not safe for you and you can only imagine what might happen to him if he were seen interacting with a creature like you...

Monsters. Beasts. Demons. These are the words the folk in the tavern use when they tell stories late into the evening and the days grow shorter. "Beware the wolf that roams these woods" is the warning bestowed to travelers. "He'll tear your throat from your chest and feast on your heart." They laugh and shiver and drink from their tankards, and then one will nudge another and say, "and avoid that old beggar on the road."

Those stories hurt more than the ones they tell about your kind. You know the truth of living a life half between wolf and human. You were never cursed by a witch, never damned by the devil, nor abandoned by your mother for being the foul offspring she never wanted. You were simply born like this and your family was lost long ago to hunters and soldiers, fearful townsfolk like these who start at every shadow. But the things they say about the man with the gentle eyes and tired smile makes your blood boil.

They don't know what they're saying, who they're speaking in the presence of. They don't know that he's yours to protect, or even that he's worth protecting. All they know is their simple, pathetic existences and crass jokes made into beer foam and hissed between moldy teeth. They're fools.

But some good still comes from their mockery. It reminds you that the "old" beggar is still alone, probably wondering what happened to the wolf who fell asleep warming his injured leg. And he's probably hungry. It's been several days since you brought him something.

You eye the credits you've most recently earned and count them up, then catch a glimpse out the window. Sunset isn't for a few more hours; you still have time and opposable thumbs.

Hardly an hour later, you've purchased a bundle of potatoes, turnips, apples, and old bread, and are marching out to the edge of town. It's nerve-wracking, this decision to finally interact with him as a human, and you're half convinced he'll see right through you. He won't, of course, he has no reason to even suspect you, but you're nervous all the same. Your stomach's all knotted up and your heart's in your throat. So many "what-ifs", so many worries and anxieties, so many unknowns, and it's stupid really because he's always been kind and gentle, never been a threat to you. Why do you even care so much about how he might react?

"Hello," you say when you finally see him. It's about all you can say, but it's embarrassing that it's all you can muster for your very first conversation.

He doesn't start - must have heard you coming - but he does look curiously at you. As if he can't figure you out. Or maybe he thinks you look familiar. You really, really hope that isn't it.

His response is halting and unsure. He nods at you. "Hello."

Your arm shoots out of its own accord and the bundle swings wildly in the air. "I thought you might be hungry."

His eyes flicker, sizing up the bundle, sizing up you, curious, searching, questioning, but... grateful. It's not easy to miss the way his shoulders relax and slope just a bit. "Thank you. That's very kind."

Your body switches to moving on instinct and you soon find yourself on a knee, just across from the spot where you'd fallen asleep with him before. The bundle is handed over and the new rabbit skin gloves that cover his knuckles catch your eye. Roughly sewn, some fur missing in spots where his knife or your teeth must have caught, but clearly made by his own hands. It strikes you as oddly sentimental despite being the smartest, most logical thing he could have done. He didn't make them because the hare came from you, he made them because he was cold and winter is coming, you know this, but still. He preserved your little tooth marks. He keeps them close to him. It may mean nothing to him, but you find that it means everything to you.

So you return to him once night falls and the moon is out, against your better judgement. You can't help it. You want to see him again, you want to see if he enjoyed the food, if your human presence is something he wouldn't mind sitting with again.

"How is it?" you ask when you come trotting out of the woods, but it's muffled by the critter in your jaws and comes out something like, "ghghghgh ooofgh".

He smiles when he sees you. "There you are, little one." He scratches you behind the ears before you've even dropped it for him and it's so embarrassing, but your tail starts wagging. Like any number of the stray dogs that enjoy attention from the townsfolk, even from you. "'s good t' see you again," he chuckles.

Your nose nudges the sack of food from earlier, played off to look as if you're curious or seeking out an interesting smell.

"You smell that, huh? It's from a friend."

I know. But it makes you feel good to hear it.

"It'll make a good meal for us, eh?"

And it's then that you wonder when you went so soft for a man you hardly know. He cooks for you and tells you stories while you lounge at his feet. He tells you about his big brother, Appo, and his commander, Rex. He tells you about the blade he took to his shin and the cannon explosion that sent shrapnel into his knee. Most importantly, he tells you his name and it's something you immediately tuck inside your heart.

It suits him, this single syllable.

"It means 'the coast' or 'the tide'. It was my father's tongue." He seems distant when he explains this, like he's no longer here with you. "He was from a land far, far away from here. An island kingdom. Full of warriors and great chiefs."

You rest your head on his knee and exhale softly through your nose. "Tell me more," you whine. It's a tricky translation.

He doesn't seem to understand you because he shifts and runs his palm over the scruff at your neck. "I know several tongues, but I don't know yours. Don't even know your name." He smiles, Tai smiles, and scratches your shoulder. "Don't suppose you'd ever tell me, would you?"

"I'm a wolf," you grumble, something like "ooowa woogh", which only makes him laugh.

"Perhaps one day, wuruhi iti."

He does eventually learn your name, though he doesn't know it belongs to the wolf that visits him most nights. There are moments when it seems he might, when he looks at you for a little too long in either form and you think your cover is blown, but it never is. He remains steadfast long into winter and you remain his, loathe to admit it though you are.

And then the worst happens. The shadows become too dark and too long, and the townsfolk become too afraid tucked away in their timber and stone homes, huddled around their hearths. Maybe you became too at home in the warmth of Tai's fire and you let yourself get lazy when it came to covering your tracks. But one day the people present arms and they come for the wolf they've heard tale of on the darkest nights.

You don't realize what's happening at first. You think maybe you've missed out on another festival with all your distractions of late, so you follow the crowd to the fence at the edge of town.

"Find the wolf!" someone shouts, and your blood runs cold. Several silver blades are brandished in the air.

"Get up, old man!" "Tell us where the wolf is!" "Give up the monster!"

Tai. Oh God, they know. How could they know? You were so careful. Had you really become so careless?

He struggles to his feet with a grunt and leans heavy on the fence. His eyes are tired in the light of their torches, weary and unsure. "What is this?"

The mayor steps forward. "Where is the wolf, old man?"

This the moment you've been dreading. He's sure to give you up, any human would. To them, you're just another monster that stalks their dreams and lingers at the forest's edge. You were foolish to ever think otherwise, even for him.

But when you turn to leave, he speaks. "What wolf?"

You pause, back still turned, too afraid to see his face, too afraid to hope.

"The werewolf. Your hellhound."

Tai scoffs. "I have no such thing." You turn.

"Liar!" One of the local women scrambles through the crowd then, her torch burning brightly as she brandishes a pitchfork in her other hand. "I saw you! You were talking to it, casting spells into the fire!"

"I am no witch, nor am I warlock or any other caster of spells. I'm simply a man."

"Are you lying to cover for the creature?" asks the mayor, now getting so close that his spittle catches on Tai's beard. "Or are you one of them? A demon sent to damn us?"

How can they say such things? How can they even dare to think them? Do they not see? Can they not comprehend? Have they no fear? If he were really the wolf, shouldn't they be afraid of his wrath? Or has their stupidity outweighed their senses?

To his credit, Tai doesn't rise to his bait. "You'd like that. Wouldn't you?" He smiles, but his dimples lack their usual depth and his eyes are cold for the first time. Cold like freshly dug earth over a grave. "I'm as human as you are, Lord Mayor. And even if I knew where your so-called beast was, I wouldn't say."

He's a better man than you are. Because you are seconds away from ripping this town apart.

"You'll tell us."

He just blinks. It's not a verbal refusal, but it's as clear as day. Their search ends with him.

But stories like this never end there, do they? You've heard of them from other wolves, ones less fortunate than you. Humans, when pushed to the limits of their wildest fears, are more monstruous than any wolf you've ever known. You know bloodlust when you see it, you know it because you feel it now, bubbling and broiling inside you as you fight with everything you have not to let it consume you. You know this town is dying of thirst and they will see red tonight, whether it's your blood or someone else's.

You run. You're not even out of sight, you're simply tucked under the roofing of the nearest dwelling. You pull your clothes off with enough force to tear them and you don't even bother with your undergarments, you just throw the wolf fur onto the ground and curl up on top. You gaze up at the sky where it begins to turn from pale blue to midnight black, and you summon yourself. It's all a rush of adrenaline and blood in your ears and fur melding with skin, senses coming into focus, limbs shortening, growing, folding, until you are one with yourself again, and then you howl.

There's no need to translate it, they all know what it means: death. You skirt around the edge of the crowd with your teeth bared, snarling, snapping at anyone who dares to step too close, and you barrel right into the mayor, knock him down so that he tumbles into the fence and takes it with him. The torch goes flying, the silver blade in his hand drops, and he screams.

You never liked him anyway. Too greedy and conniving to care much for the people of this town. His life won't be missed by many.

When you've had your fill, you saunter off of his body and begin to pace the gap between Tai and the others. Most of them are horrified, too shocked to even move, let alone try and fight you. Good. There are a few here that you've come to like during your stay and you'd hate to kill them. But you will. As a wolf, your life centers around your pack. The pack is yours to protect with your life, and this is the promise you have sealed with the blood of a human. There is no going back.

"Let him go." They don't understand you exactly, but they get the idea. Tai is off limits.

It takes a while for them to back down. They could perhaps overpower you, but you think the sight of their leader bleeding out has put them off attempting anything more without him. The torches become distant dots of light as the people retreat to their homes. Doors and shutters slam shut, the whole town goes quiet, and the sun falls below the horizon. The only light left is that of the stars and the embers of Tai's fire.

You pounce on him the moment you deem it safe. He yelps a little at first, startled and very probably afraid of you, but you don't care. Better afraid than dead. All that matters is seeing if he's safe. Your tongue is darting out across his skin, your nose sniffing under his tunic and his beard. Is he safe, is he safe, is he hurt. It's all you can think. Even if he hates you now. Even if this was all for nothing because you took a life for him and by human standards, that should disgust him. Even if you never see him again after this night, all you need to know is if he will survive.

He starts saying words. They sound so foreign to you that you think at first he's saying his father's tongue, the language he sometimes mumbles in or uses to call to you. But no, it's your name. Your real name. The one you gave him as a human. The one he isn't supposed to know is yours.

His hands come to gently cup your cheeks. You're still a wolf, yet he holds you now as if you were as human as he is.

"Is that you, wuruhi iti?"

What do you do? What do you say? "I killed someone for you. I'd die for you. You're mine, do you understand?"

Tai says your name again and the entire world stops. You whine. This is so much more painful than you thought it would be, this not knowing.

"It is, isn't it?"

Your tongue lolls out a bit when you whimper. "Yes, yes! It's me!" You want to howl it from the mountaintops, but you settle for licking his nose and panting.

He smiles. His cheeks dimple, and his eyes are the same type of warmth you find in the fires he's been lighting for you for the last few months, sparking the kind of embers you didn't even know you were capable of. He's warm again, not cold like the steel of a wolf killer's blade, but cozy like the forest floor after a day in the sun, soft like the hide of a hare. Home like the forest has always been.

"How did you know?" you ask later under the light of the full moon, your wolf fur laid across the back of the stolen cart and your head tucked under his arm.

The town is long gone, so far behind you that it is little more than a bad memory, though you hope none of them gets a wild hair and decides to come after you. As far as you're concerned, this cart and the goods you stole from the mayor's house are yours and Tai's now. The horse, too. If anyone is foolish enough to try and steal from you, then their fate is on their own head.

He grunts. He keeps falling asleep on you, even though he's trying hard to stay awake. "Know what?"

You butt him in the cheek with your nose. "That it was me."

"Oh." Tai laughs. "It was your eyes. I'd know them anywhere."

Now that you're human, you can feel it when your entire body flushes. What a silly reaction to such a simple statement, but you can't help it. He's been so gentle with you since you transformed, never touching anywhere that might be inappropriate or too presumptuous, never lingering for too long, but always comforting, always there.

"Really?"

"You're different, ipo. Special."

A lifetime of hearing otherwise from other humans has you feeling utterly speechless and a little breathless at his admittance. "How so?"

He hums as he tilts his head back to watch the stars. "You took care of me. Still not sure why you did, but I'm grateful all the same." His arm tightens around your shoulders. "And then you came to me as a human and you looked at me, and I just knew. Couldn't bear to lose you after that."

Your throat is threatening to close on you, your eyes are misty. "Tai..."

"Something about you made me feel a little more alive and far less alone. Thank you."

There's something growing in your throat now, something beyond the tears or the awkward tightness they cause, something you've been hesitant to name but never hesitant to act on. Something you've known for some time but never dared to voice.

"Tai, I don't regret what I did." He looks as if he wants to say something when you pause, but he holds it for a moment, waits for you to continue first. "For those like me, other wolves..." And he doesn't cringe, doesn't shy away from the word. He stays. "It's a promise that you're part of my pack. I, I know that this is not exactly normal for you, and I wouldn't want you to stay with me if you didn't wish to, if perhaps you were afraid of me-"

"I'm not."

Your belly feels warm with this knowledge.

You may as well say it. With the stars in his eyes and the moon highlighting the swell of his nose like some majestic carving in a noble family's manor, he doesn't look like the haggard veteran you've always known him as. You see something beautiful. But then, he's always been sort of beautiful to you.

"I care about you. I'd kill for you, I'd do it all again, I swear, just to keep you safe. And if you don't feel the same, I would understand, but Tai." Why is it so hard to say? Just spit it out! "I think that I love you. And I would like to stay with you, however you'll have me."

You wonder momentarily if that sheen in his eyes is just the reflection of the moon.

"Wuruhi iti." His fingers are shaking when they trace your browline. "I'm an old man trying to make his way in this wide world. Why would you stay with me?"

You smile. "I happen to like you, old man. And you're not so old as you seem."

"Perhaps not, but there are others you might spend your time on. Younger humans, less damaged. Other wolves."

"I will go if you ask me to."

But please don't. Such a request would break your heart.

Finally, he shakes his head and your lungs surge with relief. "I could never. I'm too selfish." He slips something into your palm then, and presses your fist to his lips before settling it on your breastbone.

"What's this?"

He rumbles a bit while he tries to find the words. Is he suddenly feeling bashful? "Token of my gratitude."

The moonlight reveals a small piece of wood, sanded and carved so intricately that you can only make out all the details through touch. There are all sorts of whirling spirals and delicate lines latticing the wood, so many that at first you don't realize there's something more to the design. Then you raise it a little higher and squint, and you see the shape of a wolf's head come into focus.

"It's beautiful."

"Whakairo. Another piece of my father and the land he came from. These carvings were the ways which our ancestors would tell stories. This one is ours." He brushes his thumb over one section of the wood. "Our fire." Then to another section. "The hares and the turnips. And you."

Every inch of your body is about to burst from beneath your skin. How are you so fortunate to have met this strange, wonderful man? But - "Where are you?"

His hands closes around the wood. "I'm here." Then he reaches, slowly, waiting until you nod to move any further, and taps his fingers on your collarbone. "And here. If you'll have me."

You will always have him, and he will always have you.

māori translations:

wuruhi - wolf wuruhi iti - little wolf ipo - beloved, sweetheart whakairo - carving (the wh- is pronounced like f-)

[tasteful-robot-loving]

i love this tiny creature and his parents but bee’s an uncle now i guess

-

Equinox yawns and Starscream expression breaks into something soft. The sparkling is so small, but his bright yellow optics seem to take up his entire face.

“You sure love this kid,” Bumblebee says, kneeling by the sparkling’s side. “It’s a good look on you.”

“How could I not? He’s perfect,” Starscream softly coos.

Bumblebee nods. He watches the way Starscream reaches over to tap Equinox’s nose. The little sparkling makes a small noise and wraps his servos around Starscream’s digit.

“He’s the best thing I’ve ever made,” Starscream says fondly after another moment.