thisavrou_log | ( october event log pt. 2 )

Entry tags:

( october event log pt. 2 )

Who: Everyone
When: October 19th into the beginning of November.
Where: The Mini Colony of the Runoff & the Moira.
What: The Moira stops to resupply at the closest planet and things get weird.
Warnings: Physical transformations, phobias - please label if needed.

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Between the Perspectives
"but in your future, the you i see is exactly the person you always wanted to be."

Supplies have been loaded onto the ship, and the captains have encouraged all crew members to explore with the added notice that this will be the last planetary stop (hopefully) until the Moira reaches the Midway Hub. While seemingly uneventful on the Moira, the mini colony has been thrumming with adventure and has offered its visitors the opportunity to explore. To those who have indulged, some experienced great changes and others discovered enlightening information about the Ingress and the very ship some have called home for over a year.

Later in the month, the Lamaria hold the closing ceremony of the Desiderium Festival (which was noted on the prior event log) . The burgundy and lime colors of the celebration slowly fade into black and vermillion, and small fires are now in place for visitors to throw their written notes into. Everyone who participates will be blessed by one of the Lamaria (they will visit the ship as well), and the MID will be able to only translate bits and pieces of what this blessing means. "Experienced loss — every story is different — and saying goodbye — not to know — understanding lies in the mingling of holding on and letting go."

☄ TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL

For some, it might be due to a touch or a look. For others, it might not be any of those things at all, and something that just happens. Either way, shortly after the blessing occurs, you will find yourself changing. Your character’s body will slowly transform into the physical likeness of another being on the Mini Colony. The effects of this change may last as short as a day or as long as a week, but each come with their own stipulations—advantages and disadvantages. This is limited to one as the blessing itself only allows for “a little understanding”. Linked below are some of the possible transformations that your character can go through. Players can choose either one of the mod-supplied suggestions or choose the form of another already living on the Moira.

☄ THE FEAR MACHINE

Paranoia writes the checks, we're dangling here like a marionette. Here we go again, the world is coming to an end. Engage the fear machine and collect the dividends.

While the festival is beautiful, and some have found enlightenment and understanding here, there are those on the mini colony who don't enjoy the festivities. In a secluded room on the fifth floor in one of the buildings in the Science District, there is one such person who finds the religious festival to be a nuisance—one who should be stopped. Thinking that disrupting the blessings and celebration will somehow "get back" at the Lamaria for impeding their work (some of those who have transformed got into the building a few years ago and destroyed this person's property). Pettiness thrives, and they create something they dub The Fear Machine. Yet, while the science is sound, the technology itself is not.

In the middle of the mini colony, the machine is set off, and bolts of transparent energy erupt and spark out around it, stretching as far as the docked ships. Since the technology wasn't created properly to sustain the energy, it doesn't spread out evenly like they had hoped. Some are hit. Some are not. Those who are will develop a sudden and overwhelming phobia that will last well into the beginning of November. The machine might be turned off and left behind, but the obsessive fear has only just begun.

( ooc; For questions, go here. This log will run into the beginning of November; any threads here can be claimed for bonus activity the following activity check as well. )

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

A. Terrifying Predator is Go (mini-colony)

While areas of the mini-colony are bright and populated at all hours, it certainly has its share of dark alleys and dim rooftops at night. See also: the kind of places the Rinzlers of the world might tend to lurk. Even when not trying to hide, Rinzler moves quietly, and more often than not, it's the enforcer's sound or the glow of his circuit lights that reveal his presence, even to an ally.

That hasn't changed. The low rumbling is similar enough, if marginally more cyclical in pattern. When you turn towards it, you can spot the usual glow, red-orange streaks and dots of light. There's something... fuzzier about the outline, though. Small? Maybe he's just far away.

Or maybe not. Anyone raising a light toward the shape will find a fluffy, tiny bonsai kitten with very unusual markings in its fur. Currently: glaring.

B. Threat Detected (anywhere, everywhere)

After Inugami, Rinzler has some experience with being reconfigured to a body not his own. This is, however, weirder. He has four legs. No disk. The automated scripts are different, a multitude of instincts urging not only eat and breathe, but hunt and smell and clean yourself. The former, he can get behind, but he'd found himself licking his own hair before conscious processing even caught up with the action.

In the end? He decides to run with it. The tug of protocol is oddly distant, and it's logical enough that this form's directives would have a better concept of its needs. Besides, Rinzler had spent his first week in a user shell ignoring the need to eat, and that had turned out—

Motion-behind-THREAT. He freezes and spins back, one paw slicing out with small needled extensions. Uselessly. The dark, twisting outline moved as fast as he had, and a quick check the other side finds it slipping behind him again. Rinzler waits, muscles coiling with tension until it starts to slide back out, then lunges for the...

[Input: pressure, instability, pain; location: unknown]. What? He stares at the wriggling threat pinned between both paws. [Retry; location: ...]

...oh. Oh. Rinzler stares, twisting his head at a sharp angle to follow the shape to its connection at his spine. Looks back at his... tail.

And promptly starts washing it. He meant to do that.

C. Threat Attempted! (anywhere, probably the colony)

It was inevitable, really. Cat instincts only go so far, and when compared to (or combined with) Rinzler's usual modus operandi, peaceful problem-solving was definitively out. Maybe he was stepped on. Or kicked. Or worse: picked up. Regardless of the reason, Rinzler is now puffed up and making angry noises at something ten times his size. It could be you, your dog, or a cannibal clown monster. No matter the enemy, Rinzler (as always) is certain of one thing.

He can take it.

Help might be a good idea. Or at least de-escalation?

D. Up, Up, and... Somewhere? (Moira, ventilation shafts)

The ventilation shafts had seemed like the perfect option, at first. He'd mapped out all the ones he could fit into before, and as disadvantageous as his current size might be for combat, it would at least let him scout out the rest. Or even access new areas of the ship. But somehow in the transition between narrow crawlspaces and expansive hallways, the air ducts started to look... different.

He isn't lost. And even if he were, Rinzler is confident he'll figure it out sooner or later. Anyone else in the crawlspace will spot the faint glow of his markings, and a faint rumbling can be heard in the hallway underneath—followed, intermittently, but the skittering of claws on metal. Or a thump. The vertical gaps are a lot harder to cross when you're about one pound of fur and bones, and once he drops into the walls, it's much harder to get back up.

Not that he'd admit to being stuck either.

E. Unintended Consequences (anywhere)

By a couple days in, Rinzler's getting used to this form. The biology is irritating. Digestion is still terrible, and maintenance requires more time than he'd prefer. Still, it's manageable. Better than the user body. At least, until he feels a prickling in his throat forcing him to arch, retch, and spit out a blob of sticky, fluid-covered... hair.

What.

Ever seen a cat stare at its own hairball in rigid shock? No? Enjoy.

[[ooc: As always, prose or spam is fine. Also, feel free to wildcard! Rinzler can be found batting at his MID, failing to fly a transporter, falling asleep on your keyboard, or much, much more.]]

[A. AND THEY WILL BURY IT WITH ME [SLIGHT BODY HORROR, GORY THEMES, BLOOD]]

It's been... a strange festival, but that's life out in space. He left his (surprisingly heartfelt; good thing they were on fire) notes for his fallen comrades, and figured that'd be that, but the concept of the blessing took him by surprise. Not that he denied it. It seemed harmless enough. After all, he did participate in the festival and everything. What's wrong with a little bit of taking in local customs? And with all that fame of his, it was better he just did it and got it over with. And it seemed like a lot of nothing.

Until now.

At first, it feels like he's just turning into smoke again, an annoyance that he's been working on both getting used to and using for his own purposes. It becomes pretty obvious after a while, though, that that isn't what's happening. Everything goes from just feeling strange to actually burning. His eyes, his skin, his insides. Not something he can't handle; he's gone through plenty of torture just fine. But it's so wrong.

Something's happening to him. His eyes are... filling up with something? His flesh feels... drained? And his teeth just feel like they're about to fall out. It's all he can do to keep himself from trying to claw his skin off or something. And then... blood in his mouth. His teeth are too long, too sharp. They've cut him, they've cut him, what the hell is this? He needs more of that, for sure. He needs-- what?

When his body finally stops feeling like it's fighting itself, when his mind suddenly stops racing, he stands up straight. Instincts battle logic as he sniffs the air. Whatever he'd been feeling before, it's now replaced by an extreme urgency. Hunger. Thirst. The blood in his mouth is only a taste, and he needs more.

His head snaps to attention when he sees movement in his peripheral vision. Bright red eyes stare at whatever (blood-filled) creature might have the misfortune to be nearby. His mouth opens, revealing razor-sharp fangs, and he lunges at his would-be victim.

Think fast.

[B. GALLONS OF THE STUFF [BLOOD AND STUFF]]

So, Liquid's developed an insatiable thirst for blood. That became obvious when he pounced on an unsuspecting person, sunk his brand-spanking-new fangs into their neck, and went to town.

He doesn't regret a thing. Hey, at least he didn't kill them. Not that he would have minded so much, but he didn't need that kind of attention. Especially now that he's become, well, a freaking vampire. Some blessing.

Still, one feeding doesn't feel like enough, but now that he's got a better sense of control, he can sneak up on his next victim instead. Care to join him? Care to put a stop to it? Hell, maybe he's out looking for you.

[C. I JUST LOOK 'EM IN THE EYE AND TELL 'EM I WAS RAISED BY BATS]

The new transformation doesn't seem to have come with the smoke problem he'd been having before... which is actually kind of annoying because the whole point was to practice, and if he can't practice, then whenever he goes back to normal he's going to have to work on it again, and what if his body decides to forget all he's worked for, huh? That'd be a ton of effort, wasted.

Not like he can do anything about it now, though. And just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't mean it won't happen, right? So, after a quick glance to see if anyone's watching, he decides to give it a try. He closes his eyes, concentrates, wills his body to become smoke...

and he finds he's shrunk. Into a bat, actually. At first, it was more like two bats, but quickly ran into one. He's really got to work on that. At least flying seems to be an innate ability.

"...I meant to do that."

[D. WILDCARD]

[soooo, liquid has become a space vampire. find him wandering around anywhere, doing space vampire things. and as always, you can plot with me here or @

agentkaz!]

[ Adrien was half asleep.

Actually he was mostly asleep and still getting used to the idea that he had a private bathroom. Currently, he was so exhausted that he was running on automatic pilot and had exited his room to head to the communal bathroom.

...

That didn't exist.

Because he was now housed on Moro, not Nomo.

Out the door he came, eyes mostly closed and feet bare, his only coherent thought process was bathroom, which was also how he initially came to miss the small furry body standing off to the side, staring in horror at something. The something that the bare ball of his foot just landed on.

With a wet ... squish.

The sort of squish that curls up between the toes, splattering on the instep.

The doctor paused in place, his mind now considering the fact that he needed to wake up, just a shade more. He slowly lifted his foot and looked down at the appendage, as if it had personally offended him.. ]

Wha?

i. walkin' through the streets of the colony in the rain

After their too-long dalliance in the insects' city, Daryl hasn't been keen on making more stops in unfamiliar places-- but the Moira is gonna get real claustrophobic real fast once they get on their way, so eventually he figures he'd better enjoy solid ground while he's got it.

The festival is strange, but there's something touching about it, and he writes his messages for his own reasons. He can't quite dodge the blessing, though he'd rather. It leaves him feeling unsettled, annoyed-- something that doesn't fade as quickly as it ought to.

Without knowing why, he stays in the city, drifting through the streets, restless. Again and again he seeks out quiet places-- deserted alleys, dark sidestreets-- before getting spooked by nothing, heading back into the crowds. Except he hates the crowds, which means before long he's shouldering his way past and glaring at strangers.

"The hell are you lookin' at?"

ii. his hair was perfect

Eventually he does head back to the ship, at least for a while. His mood hasn't improved in the least, though; he stalks through the corridors like he wants a fight, though he couldn't say why. Looking a little more ragged than usual-- maybe he just forgot to shave (for three years?)-- he's not making any effort to hide his simmering, sourceless agitation. Cutting in line in the mess, shouldering first through doors, literally growling under his breath.

That's probably fine, though, right? Probably.

iii. hear him howling around your kitchen door

The next time he leaves the ship, snarling something about needing some goddamn space, he doesn't come back.

He's on his own when it hits him, a wave of aggression that melts into terror-- he's alone, hopelessly so, more miles than he can count from home. It stops him in his tracks before the physical pain cripples him, bones stretching out beneath his skin, his jaws lengthening, his already-unkempt hair bristling down across his back.

It leaves him disoriented, an errant Erant lost in the Colony's winding streets, skulking about like a feral dog, his MID ignored, his uniform hanging in tatters.

a. i’m almost a human being (mini-colony)
[Changing forms is nothing new to Zam. Changing forms without meaning to? That’s new.

He’s on his way back to the Moira from one of the colony’s transport depots when it happens: the feeling of flesh and bone subtly shifting, so familiar it’s almost mundane -- except he’s not the one controlling it.

He doesn’t have a means of seeing his own reflection, but the form he’s forced into is one he recognizes without having to see it. Its his female form, except… not. There’s something different about it, but he’s too busy trying to change back to work out the details.

Anybody who runs into Zam at the transport depot will find them in their usual female form, with a few alterations. They look older for one, more like a woman approaching her 40s than the young face they normally wear. There are also a couple of faded scars that weren’t there before, a thin one stretching from just above their left brow down towards their right eye, and another nicking their bottom lip. As for their expression, there’s no disguising the look of shock and frustration on their face as they try, futilely, to change it back to its previous form.]

b. to hell with they, i’m almost me (transporter, cargo bay)
[Zam’s on pins and needles by the time they arrive back on the Moira via transporter. They’ve spent the entire trip over trying to change back to their male form but it’s like they’ve forgotten how. Flesh and bone remain stubbornly in a single, set configuration no matter what they try and it’s becoming harder to fight the panic pressing in. Changing has always come as naturally to them as breathing. They’re a Clawdite -- it’s what they do. Except not now. Maybe not anymore at all.

No, that’s ridiculous. They can’t actually be stuck like this. Even if they can’t change between human variations for whatever reason, they still have their natural form to fall back on. Maybe all they need is a reset. They wait for the transporter to empty of other passengers. Once they’re sure they’re alone, they take a deep breath and let go of their human form…

Except nothing happens. Skin doesn’t change to scales, facial features don’t shift.

They’ve lost their natural form.

The open door of an overhead compartment in the transporter slams down with an almighty bang, loud enough for anyone in the cargo bay outside to hear it.]

Edited 2016-10-20 15:37 (UTC)

[Of all the unpleasant discovers Asriel's made this month, waking up as a human was probably the easiest to deal with. The change of temperature was a lot more noticeable when you're missing fur, but Asriel was still able to go about his business. "Business" meaning don't leave the ship, stay inside the Moira where it's safe and never leave again.

The thump in the wall as he walks past grabs his attention.]

... Hello?

[Asriel leans closer to see if he can hear anything. Something about this situation feels kind of familiar.]

While Liquid's been transformed into something supernatural, Mettaton's getting used to being someone rather ordinary. To him, being human was exciting enough to wander the Moira for, and to forget the sad things that tended to overrun his thoughts these days.

This was great, he was warm, he could feel, and if he put his hand to his chest, why...he even had a heartbeat! In fact, he was so excited that it was beating fast, as if he had just taken a run. It's not his fault, this had been his dream for so long, nothing could ruin it! He was human! HUMAN!!

The unfortunate part of being a regular old human, however, is that he can't sense that someone is following him with ill intent. Even if he felt the prickle of displaced air, of something not right, he ignored it. Because he was still experiencing a little bit of sensory overload, and it was making him giddy.

And a sitting duck.

Edited (i keyworded my icon afterwards whoops.) 2016-10-20 04:18 (UTC)

ｈａｉｒｂａｃｋ，ｃｏｌｌａｒｕｐ，ｊｅｔｂｌａｃｋ，ｓｏｃｏｏｌ！
[It takes little time, from the quiet end of the ceremony--something he'd attended quietly and with little fanfare, a moment of private grief that only ever seems to grow--for Anakin to realize that something has become very, very wrong.

The onset, in comparison, feels like it takes a lifetime when the pain itself is slow, bringing with it a transition of his vision to one clouded in subtle shades of red. The change is quick and yet it isn't at all; it happens too quickly to notice the subtle changes as anything more than dull aches brought on by the onset of vividly recollected grief. The dull ache in his teeth is written off as a result of grinding them too harshly in emotional restraint, the red in his vision a result of tears, and the hunger, initially, a simple result of never quite training himself to take as good care of his own body as he should (beyond, of course, working it too hard).

In fact, he doesn't notice any side-effects at all until, half-way back to the ship, he bumps into another person ~~(maybe you?)~~ and bites hard into the soft inside of his mouth, drawing blood. The piercing of his now-fangs is unmistakeable...and so is that sudden, raging hunger.

There's a gasp of surprise and a lisped (what?) apology, but even in that, he can't stop that possible interrupting stare that results in an eye twitching in time with the near-invisible pulse of the artery in the neck of whatever humanoid he's just run into, (or the sudden jolt back to reality if the scent of blood isn't reasonably present).]

ｓｐａｒｋｌｅｌｉｋｅＢｏｗｉｅｉｎｔｈｅｍｏｒｎｉｎｇｓｕｎ．
[Sunlight will be better, he thinks. Despite a vast and consuming dislike of sand, the presence of warm, natural light has always helped him think. He finds a quiet streetside cafe and decides to wait. Which would be thoroughly more pleasant if the sun, reaching occasionally from behind the clouds, didn't seem to directly blind him each time he opens his eyes. Lore aside, his skin doesn't seem to burn with the same contact (in fact, the shielding that protects it almost seems to glimmer, and glancing at that hurts even more), but it sure is difficult to carry on a conversation when distracted like this.]

I'm sorry, what?

[The hunger has abated for a time. Slightly. It gnaws, it always gnaws, but his attention is wholly focused on blinking to keep his eyes open. And he'd thought the prospect of living in a suit for the rest of his life sounded bad?]

ｐｌａｙｉｔｒｉｇｈｔａｎｄｄｒｉｖｅａＶｏｌｖｏｃａｒ．
[WILDCARD: If you'd like anything else Sangui-related: fights in hotel bars, competitive sparkling, necking, here is your chance to do so! Hit me up!]

Ｍａｍａ，Ｉｓａｗｔｈｅｓｔａｒｓｔｏｎｉｇｈｔ．
[Ridiculous hungers abated, Anakin is full ready to get back to the Moira before this seemingly-temporarily-onset vampirism decided undead is a look he should sport permanently. Our "fearless" transport pilot is locked-and-loaded with the craft, rising up into the mini-colony's atmosphere with a smile (and no small amount of exhaustion). The craft checks out fine, safety procedures are in place as usual, this should take no time at all.

Everything is fine. Until, of course, it isn't. Rising from the atmosphere brings the craft into starlight, and Anakin's heart stops. Even with the Moira within reach, the yawning of space around the craft stretches for a literal eternity. He lets out a shuddering breath: he's done this hundreds of times, whether here or back home, this sort of transportation is offensively simple in its routine. But fingers shake, and as a result, so do the transport's controls.

He's never been able to understand anyone's fear of the galaxy around them before. And yet, here he is, frozen in place and haunted by the vastness and utter nothing that surrounds in that dark sea of distant stars. The pilot lets out a whimper.

But there's nothing to see here, right?]

ｔｈｅｄｅａｔｈ，ｔｈｅｌｉｆｅ，ａｎｄａｌｌｕｎｓｅｅｎｃａｍｅｉｎｔｏｓｉｇｈｔ．
[WILDCARD: In terms of Anakin's phobia, he's been struck with astrophobia, which is the fear of stars/celestial space. He will not be pleasant around anywhere he can see them: in a transport, the observation deck, or up in navigation. I would never thoroughly encourge meetings in any or all of these places, that would just be cruel. WINK. WINK.]

[Around the Moira]

[The shift from fuzzy goat monster to human is a jarring one - no fur, smaller ears. He's a good foot shorter than he normally would be, the white fur covering the top of his head now blonde hair that's still messy from just waking up.

This should be alarming. This should be really alarming. Monsters just don't turn into humans? But it's pretty clear this isn't his body, and he wonders if maybe that shop he visited just ended up swapping out his body somehow. A feeling of dread washes over him, thinking about having to visit that place again.

But as for right now? He's cold. And when he can't seem to warm up right away, he starts to wander the Moira still in his PJs looking for a good heat source. Maybe a hot drink? That sounds really nice.

But still not yet awake, Asriel doesn't make it very far. As soon as he reaches the lounge, he ends up dozing off on a nearby couch. If someone's already sitting there, there's now a small boy falling asleep on you while muttering.]

Cold...

[Colony]

[Well at some point he had to come back out here, didn't he? He doesn't want to be here though. Even as a human, this place terrifies him and he knows it's a long walk from the Moira to that Pay for Exchange building. What would he even do if they did have his body and refused to give it back?

Maybe he needs to bring someone with him, but they'll copy them too. He knows they will.]

... It's okay, I just gotta make it there and back. I'm not scared, there's nothing I gotta be scared about-

[As soon as Asriel hears someone approaching, he spins around with a yelp. It doesn't make a difference whether they're there to hurt him or not, he's still on edge from his last visit out here.]

Ah! S-sorry!

>> TRANSFORM AND SCREAM A LOT | mini-colony
[He's used to transforming. It's part of his species' general abilities, after all. He's been doing it since he could remember. Since he was "born". But this is different. One moment he's driving, and the next, his frame is abruptly shifting without him telling it to. Twisting and warping and--]

[Okay, he does screech a little. Can you blame him? He's lucky he survives, honestly, at the rate of speed he was going.]

[But, despite this, the figure that rolls to a stop across the colony ground is... human. Lanky and young, and occasionally splotched in blue and red tattoos of Autobot sigils and a Kanji or two. Blue eyes a shade too electric. But human.]

[And suddenly, abruptly terrified. Staring down at rapidly bruising fingers and just yelling.]

[Please help him.]

>> HOW DO I HUMAN | everywhere
[Once he figures out he isn't dying, or cursed or in mortal peril, he's going to try and figure out what to do with himself. He's wandering around wherever he can, wrapped up in a towel, or a blanket. If only because it's cold. With his little red dragon whirling around his head in motherly concern.]

[And yes, the blanket is the only thing on his body right now.]

[He can be found wandering the streets of the mini colony, looking for someone familiar. Because how does he function like this? What is he supposed to do? Or, later, poking his head into the corridors of the Moira, wondering if he's going to find a friend -- or if he's even allowed back in the room he's sharing with Riptide.]

[... Does he need to refuel like this? Why is it so cold?]

>> WILDCARD | anywhere!
[Want to run into this noodle-shaped teenager somewhere else? Hit me up!]

[Mettaton should prooooobably recognize Asriel, human or not. However, he doesn't, and it's not terribly important when faced with the amazing fact that he is also a human.

Being human doesn't take away his sympathetic nature, however, and so when he happens upon this small blond child he has never seen before, his first instinct is to walk forward, his boots clacking with a distinctly different sound--they weren't metal anymore!]

Oh sweetie, come here!! The best cure for a chill is obviously a hug!!

[Though there's no metal reverb in his tone, the voice should ring familiar. So should the general looks, although Mettaton is now soft, dark-skinned, and...well, he has a few scuffs, cuts, and bruises, not the least of which is a deep scratch on his left cheek, but he doesn't seem bothered!

He's totally focused on Asriel.]

ｃｏｍｅａｓｙｏｕａｒｅ，ａｓｙｏｕｗｅｒｅ．．．
[Mere hours after signing an absurd contract (followed for now as it seemingly suits him and the purpose of getting out of this backward realm and back where he rightly belongs), Loki finds himself land-side on the colony, time spent wandering (though not quite aimlessly as much as "curiously"). Despite having clearly heard them, he thinks little of this "blessing," and less so of its terms. Why should he think anything of it?

Well, because it works like this: within several steps from the transport, Loki's Asgardian "veneer", as it were, wears off. He thinks it, at first, a trick of the light, poor vision brought on my some side-effect of that wretched machine (that has left him bootless, to unending agitation) or exhaustion he can no longer outrun. Then, perhaps a cruel trick of someone else here, but he knows well (~~he assumes~~) there is no one to do such a thing.

No. As he reflects, confused, as his hands outstretched before him, he sees them in the way he'd never once wanted to: as they really are. This is Loki in his truest form: blue-skinned, red-eyed, and lost.

He needs to find somewhere to hide. And quickly. (And perhaps he's simply not quick enough).]

ｔｈｅｃｈｏｉｃｅｉｓｙｏｕｒｓ，ｄｏｎ＇ｔｂｅｌａｔｅ．．．
[Loki has discovered very quickly that he does not like this ship. If it isn't missing possessions, or haunting visions he'd like to bleach straight out of his mind, it's this: some parts of the ship are still made of glass, effective intermittent mirrors in public spaces, or windows with the barest hint of reflection that make his skin crawl.

He's already seen himself in ways he'd never wanted and could never rationally desire now, not alone and certainly not where it's open and bare to all around him. But this...this is different. His heritage can be bitten down on and swallowed bitterly, cringed around and denied when he can no longer see it.

But what if he does?

He stares angrily at the corridor ahead, and most particularly at its walls that reflect the overhead lighting. If the light can easily reflect off that glass and polished steel, what else is he to see?

What anyone who runs into him will see is a strange sight of a man arrested in the dead-center of the hallway whose short, shallow breaths give more away than he seems to notice.]

ａｓＩｗａｎｔｙｏｕｔｏｂｅ．
[WILDCARD: Hit me up with anything else you could possibly want from an angry born-to-be-King who sneers and insults a lot more than he ought. Drag him along on an adventure, if you're so inclined. He'll throw fits: fun for the whole family.]

Mmmnn...

[Asriel doesn't move from his curled up position on the couch, but the voice is familiar, even if it is a little different. The boy yawns, trying to rub the blurriness out of his eyes as he glances up at the tall figure approaching.]

... Mettaton?

[He hasn't recognized Mettaton's change of appearance just yet.]

>> PRE-TRANSFORMATION | mini-colony
[Reinhardt has been unusually solemn about this whole ceremony. Maybe it's out of a desire to treat it with respect. Or maybe it's just that serious an occasion. Whatever the reason, he stands quietly during most of the festival, off to one side, two notes in particular in hand.]

[When offered the chance, he bows his head slightly, before setting the papers to burn.]

Thank you. For the chance to speak.

[He doesn't know if the person offering up the fire can understand him, but that won't keep him from thanking them, all the same. Who knows if Ana or Jack could really hear him, or read the messages? But it's some vague form of closure.]

[And the big man is grateful.]

>> HIM BIG DRAGON | mini colony
[... but pretty shortly thereafter, the somber, serious Crusader is gone. In his place is a giant monster made of stone. Missing one eye, pitted with cracks and scars, filled in with pale crystal. Crouched atop some building, fanning massive stone wings. It looks, oddly enough, like a dragon.]

[And oh boy, is it ever thrilled to exist.]

[It won't go in for any destruction, though. Just flying in huge, spiraling circles over the colony. Or lumbering through the streets with as much caution as possible.]

[Eventually, however, the giant that was Reinhardt is going to need to eat something. Which poses a problem. What does a creature like this even eat? Surely it can't be flesh... the thought is suddenly unappetizing. But what?]

>> WILDCARD | mini-colony still
[Anything else you want with the Great Stone Dragon?]

...Asriel?

[Well...that's different. Mettaton blinks a few times. How did he not notice? Was he really that far up his own ass?

...Yes. Yep, 100%, he's almost back to his normal, self-absorbed self at this point, because HOW GREAT IS HE NOW? IN THE FLESH?!?!

Still, he skips forward--as much as one can skip in high heels--and sits himself on the couch, hugging Asriel without warning and pushing his face into the boy's fluffy blond locks. It might have come off creepy if they weren't friends.

Hell. Maybe it's still creepy. Let him have this, he's never experienced the sense of touch, and not even a child's clammy skin is gonna push him away.]

Yes! Yes, it's me, and it's you!!

[Well that is one way to wake him up. Asriel squirms in surprise before settling down in Mettaton's arms, with the former robot's face nuzzled against his head. It wasn't really all that weird - it's the same show of affection that Asriel would give Chara or Frisk.

What was weird was the sudden warmth radiating off of Mettaton, skin and actual body heat instead of metal. Asriel can't help himself, and he finds himself curling up against Mettaton to soak in that warmth. He's hoping Mettaton doesn't mind ~~or notices~~.]

Yeah, it's me! You turned into a human too?

[Mettaton hardly minds at all. As long as he can feel Asriel, that's all he cares about.

It's the best...being able to feel the warmth of someone else. Instead of just gauging their weight against you and taking comfort just from the fact that you know they are close and touching you.

He doesn't answer for a moment, too lost in the hug and how happy he is to be this way.]

Mm...mmhm, I did. I don't know how this could have happened, but it's such a gift, I love it!

[Asriel isn't as much as a fan of suddenly being a human, but Mettaton does look really happy. Asriel decides not to bring up that maybe their original bodies were taken by that Pay for Exchange company.

Best to stay positive. It wasn't like being human was a bad thing. Just different.]

It feels kind of weird... you're really warmth though. I'm still getting used to not having any fur so everything feels kind of cold right now.

Edited 2016-10-20 05:12 (UTC)

Oh...Oh, I'm sorry that you're cold, but if you want, you're free to share my warmth! There's plenty to spare!!!

[That much is true; Mettaton's been on a glorified adrenaline rush since he found out he was human. He's definitely warm. It's pleasant, though he's starting to get a little worn out, so maybe it's better that he found Asriel like this.

He can sort of wind down from his own hyperactive glee.]

At least something interesting came out of this. I...I think I'm actually happy!!

[Pharah has seen him at the party, and had later seen the large dragon flying around the city, but she hadn't made the connection. Instead, she had been preoccupied with her own transformation which, while not nearly as physically altering as Reinhardt's had been, was enough to throw her off her game. The Maleficus weren't an overly popular species, for reasons Pharah hasn't yet figured out, and she had been forced to make herself scarce among the locals.]

[On top of that, as Reinhardt would soon find out, she had a peculiar ability. When she finally base yet back to the shop and settled down to sleep, she no sooner had closed her eyes and drifted off when she awoke to find herself - fully dressed and, as far as she could discern, fully cogent - in an odd sort of smokey reality. Things started to coalese abs she watched curiously as a scene came into being before her very eyes ...]

A. Goodnight, Beauties

Mettaton still didn't wander very much, not even when it came to that strange festival. He didn't warrant an invite since he was being antisocial. Apparently he did warrant a special privilege though. He doesn't realize it for a while though. He's using some free time to watch the stars forlornly on the observation deck, a hand pressed to the glass, when suddenly he feels a spell of dizziness.

A malfunction? That wouldn't be new, so he just takes a knee, closing his eye and taking a calming breath. It'll pass. It always passes. But this time...it doesn't. So he takes a seat on the floor properly this time and glances down at his SOUL. It's blurry in his vision. Why does he feel so weak? It's not discharged, there's no flicker.

...For the first time in his life, Mettaton doesn't deactivate. He falls asleep.

It's brief, of course, but long enough that his form does shrink a little into itself, undergoing some shifts. He sleeps through it all, flopping onto his side.

Another first: Mettaton snores, and it's not exactly the most attractive sound in the world. It'll likely draw attention. Perhaps you wish to rouse him? Please, save the ship from this cacophony.

B. DOES METTATON IS HUMAN?

When Mettaton finally wakes up, it's not in the most attractive manner. He feels...heavy. In a different way than he's ever experienced. And flat, very flat. He can't remember ever having laid on his side like this without his pauldrons making it difficult...

He's overcome by a very strange sensation all of a sudden, an urge to stretch out and a welling desire to take a deep breath and then...let it out.

Mettaton has never actually yawned, or stretched. It's very weird. As is the distinct sensation that he's uncomfortable with the temperature of the floor. He blinks tiredly, raising a hand to rub at his eye.

It's soft and warm.

The robot freezes for a moment, then braces an arm against the floor, pushing himself upright. Again, that strange sense of dizziness takes hold, and he throws his hand forward to steady himself against the window he'd passed out near.

Skin. Oh god that's skin. That's definitely...

Mettaton is extremely aware of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, and the beating of his own heart.

"I'm..." is all he manages, pushing himself to his feet for real this time. His arms and legs ache, as does his back. Even in the faint reflection of himself, he sees not a robot, but a human. A human.

"A HUMAN!!!" he exclaims, and then he's touching himself all over, laughing excitedly. "I'M HUMAN!! HOW--WHEN?!"

Yeah. Someone tell the crazy guy to quit screaming to himself, perhaps?

Oh...there he goes. Clad in a crop top with no sleeves, some basic pants, and his signature pink boots, Mettaton runs from one side of the deck to the other. He's ecstatic!!!

He's human!

C. What Comes Up...Must Fall Down

Eventually, Mettaton comes to realize that he's not infallible this way, and that he does get tired. So after a few round trips through the Moira, seeing people and experiencing things in a new way--including the garden, of course--he's starting to wear down, and as his euphoria wears off, he realizes that his face really hurts, as do his arms. Reaching a hand up, he touches his left cheek, then winces.

"Ow."

He glances at his fingers. That's...that's definitely blood. He glances at his arm, frowning. Yeah, he's pretty cut up actually. Where had those come from? Well, no matter. He tries to find someone, anyone who can help him. He's never been injured this way before, and it's a little worrying.

"Excuse me--yes, you! Could you help me? I was wondering if you know what to do about these!!"

At which point, he holds up his right arm, which definitely looks pretty bad. Not that he has to, the cuts on his face should be enough. It's surprising that he wasn't deterred before, unless whoever he hails happens to know that pain doesn't bug him that much.

D. No One Give This Boy A Cinnabon

Mettaton is eventually patched up, a big square bandage on the left side of his face and both his left upper arm and right forearm securely bandaged. He's still not sure where he acquired such injuries, but once they were tended to, he came across a very different problem.

Hunger. That was definitely a new experience, and he wasn't prepared for that gnawing emptiness and the need to sate his appetite. Asking around once again proved useful, and he finds himself in the galley, making himself a simple meal. He considers spaghetti, but...that makes him upset, so he just boils noodles and has those. He figures he ought to start simple anyway, since this is his first meal.

...As it turned out, it wasn't going to be his last, because although the spaghetti noodles were plain, but filling. And being able to taste them is an experience in and of itself. He wants to experience more! So, he tries the first prepackaged thing he can find; a doughnut.

This was a mistake, but not one he regretted in the least.

From outside, there's a lot of rustling and crackling heard over the next few minutes, punctuated by pleasurable noises. Anyone who peeks their head in will find Mettaton sitting on the floor, stuffing his face with whatever he could find--potato chips, doughnuts, candy...

If it was premade, bad for you, and tasted good, then he was eating it.

Somebody should stop him before he makes bad decisions, but until they do, he's just going to keep enjoying his sensual overload.

E. Wildcard

[Got an idea that doesn't fit any of the premade prompts? Want me to make you a specific starter? Just reply with whatever you want here, PM me, or hit me up on my plurk @

Grimmkitty!

Edited 2016-10-20 06:01 (UTC)

[There's no wool over Jimmy's eyes. If someone's going to deceive him it's only cause he was taking their word for it from the start. These captains say he's far from home up in the stars, fine, but he's going to take a look around for himself. The colony is nothing like he's known. There are too many people that don't look like most people and they aren't being bothered by those that do. Those that are different get treated different. It's just always how its been.

He walks for miles. He's not overwhelmed, hell no, but he's a little bit and he figures that it's smarter to go back to the ship.]

You alright, kid?

[Jimmy's brows scrunch, a hand lifted defensively.]

Lost or somethin'?

[this is a lot like that scary gif where you're on the street after dark and you see the lady at the street corner and then she's rushing at you, arms flapping. You know the one.

Except this time it's Badou who's flapping away from teeth, screaming:]

MOTHERFUCKER YOU'RE NOT GETTIN' YOUR TEETH IN THIS ASS! GET BEHIND ME, SATAN!

this part is closed

a. to mercy (cw: body horror)
[76 didn’t even go to that stupid festival.

Not that he knows what’s causing whatever this is—he’s generally a little unstable on a good day, and the last thing he expects is this, crawling out of his own skin and changing somehow. It’s slow enough at first that he doesn’t notice, but as soon as he does, all of the work he’s put into convincing himself that the Moira is real goes out the window because this has to be a hallucination.

It should occur to him that losing his composure is exactly what this probably-Talon simulation wants—for him to break down and seek out the (definitely also part of the simulation) ex-Overwatch agents, chasing the familiar and letting important intel slip in the process. But despite all of his military training and all the duress he’s able to withstand on a normal basis (to say nothing of his sheer stubbornness and commitment to his six-year charade), what’s happening to him is something for which he has no frame of reference. He’s panicking despite every effort not to, and Angela is the first person to come to mind, an involuntary reflex—an automatic hindbrain response that has no regard for who he is now and what he’s trying to hide. She’s his doctor. She’ll know what to do.

It’s that half-coherent thought that has him all but clawing his way into Medbay, straining against his body armor, even though the more rational part of him is screaming that if he does this, if he lets her this close, he’s going to be compromised. Unfortunately, the situation isn’t exactly allowing him to be rational.]

Doctor Ziegler.

[His voice is low, rough as usual, but hopefully loud enough to get her attention if she’s here (of course she’s here—he knows her too well). 76 manages not to call her Angela, at least. Small victories.]

b. + genji
[He doesn’t leave the medbay immediately post-transformation, though he knows if he were smart, he’d get out as soon as possible. There’s no accounting for exhaustion, however, and to say he’s shellshocked by the experience is probably an understatement. He isn’t going anywhere for a few long moments, even if he desperately wants to.

76 doesn’t say anything to Angela, just watches her intently, perhaps to the point where it’s uncomfortable. By the time they got his mask off, he’d been unrecognizable, but he still feels exposed, like something’s going to occur to her as he sits in the medbay in silence, blowing everything wide open.

It’s awkward. It’s really awkward and terrible and BOY WOULDN’T IT BE THAT MUCH WORSE IF SOMEONE WALKED IN HERE RIGHT NOW.]

this part is open - dogsong.mp3

[Once the initial shock wears off (sort of, 76 isn’t sure it’s going to wear off), the whole thing is mostly embarassing. He tries to stay away from people as a rule, but now it’s basically all he wants to do—though he knows he can’t possibly be that lucky.

76 ends up slinking around the Moira and the mini colony when the spaceship proves to be too stifling. Still, it’s hard to be discreet when you’re suddenly an overly-large space werewolf on a ship that is entirely too small, at least where going unnoticed is concerned.

The other unfortunate thing is his temper, which is already kind of terrible, but seems to have been kicked into overdrive by stress or something else, maybe. Suffice to say that running across him either on the ship or otherwise might not be a pleasant experience, depending on how he’s approached.

He is, however, pretty hard to miss.]

wildcard

((I’ll do whatever you want! 76 is lurking around the mini colony and the Moira. He’s a space werewolf who didn’t get the memo that it’s good to stick around the other space werewolves. He is Ready for a Fight. Hit me up on plurk at whitticus if you want to hash something out!))

upside down and inside out (open to all)

[Ronan, being the opposite of a friendly and inviting person, has managed to avoid any so-called blessings by evading every colonist who looked like they might even consider approaching him. He's landed in Section 25, instead: A park unbound by gravity, behaving like almost as much of a dream thing as his beloved Cabeswater back home. Water and flower petals float toward the sky. Reality bends in a way that Ronan finds nostalgic. Out of anything he's seen since he arrived only days ago, this is the closest to his natural habitat.

Still barefoot after the unexplained loss of his combat boots, Ronan walks along the path while his pet raven Chainsaw flies in a disoriented pattern a few feet overhead. She can't quite seem to gather her bearings, but she doesn't seem particularly distressed about it. If a raven can possibly look like she's playing around, that's Chainsaw in the moment. And even Ronan almost looks like he's smiling while he watches her.]

in a nightmare (maleficus only)

[The dream is a forest in autumn. The leaves of the surrounding trees are on fire with fall colors, impossibly brilliant hues of red and orange and gold. They look as if the sun is shining directly onto them, but the sun is nowhere to be seen, the sky darkening into dusk. The effect is uneasy, the way the foreground looks too bright when there are storm clouds lurking in the distance.

Ronan stands in the center of a small clearing, gazing into a pool of water lapping at his bare feet. His brow is drawn in deep concentration, eyes fixed on the water as if he sees something in there. Whatever it is he's looking at, it isn't visible to his guest. Getting closer to the water only reveals it to be an opaque, impossible blackness.

So busy with his work, Ronan doesn't notice he has company just yet.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 83

( october event log pt. 2 )

Rinzler | Bonsai cat | Open!

Liquid Snake | IS NOW A SPACE VAMPIRE | ota | body horror, blood, gore

Unintended Consequences

daryl dixon ][ space werewolf ota <3

Zam Wesell | Force-sensitive human lmao | OTA

D

B. (A+ lyric choice, btw)

Anakin Skywalker | (Temporary Walking Sparkler with Fangs) | cw: blood/gore, mild body horror

Asriel Dreemurr | Just a normal human | ota

Sideswipe | human | ota

A.

Loki Laufeyson | (Once a Jotun, Always a Jotun) | cw: ...Loki

no subject

Reinhardt | ROCK DRAGON Stalapidis | ota

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Wildcard - dreamland

Mettaton | HUMAN OMG???

colony

A

76 | awoo

Ronan Lynch ☘ Unchanged