#magic of body transformation and all of that

[bitchface24-7]

What would it be like if Yandere Viktor, finds out that the reader is pregnant with his child after he was transformed by magic (in the beginning, when he was still creating his cult). What would happen?

MY LOVES - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: you're pregnant. You never got the chance to tell Viktor since the whole bombing of the councillor's chambers. The hexcore changed him. He left. You're going to get him back, he's yours after all. And you're his.

warnings: pregnancy, yandere tendencies (obsessive, possessive, etc.), pre-established relationship, fluff, suggestiveness, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/f

p.s. Y'all what is up with you guys and pregnancy?? The only babies I'll ever have are fictional ones with these men LMAO. Hope y'all enjoy

You're pregnant.

There's no question as to how it happened. You and Viktor had sex quite often. It wasn't at the forefront of his mind though, he'd go a week or two with his libido on the back burner until one day it'd overflow, and he'd ravish you.

For days you'd get a clingy, teasing, overwhelmingly horny Viktor. You were satisfied every time.

Viktor didn't plan on having kids, with his chronic illness and weak body. He didn't want to potentially pass down whatever he's been dealing with to his future child.

Well, when you have sex at the frequency you two were having it, accidents happen. A happy accident, but an accident nonetheless.

You were going to tell him as soon as you could, multiple pregnancy tests, a urine test, and blood test to all prove not only to yourself but your amazing partner that you were pregnant.

But then the councillor's chamber blew up, Viktor died, he came back to life with the help of the hexcore, he changed, he left. You almost had a breakdown when Jayce told you everything. But your determination outweighed your sadness.

You were going to get Viktor back, no matter what.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It didn't take long to figure out where he went. He went back to Zaun, started healing people, and made a commune for people to be safe and happy.

They call him The Herald.

He's still just Viktor to you.

He's always wanted to help others, make their lives easier. Now he has that ability. But instead of using his brain and the inventions he's created through science, he's using magic.

He truly is the perfect representation of Hextech.

And he's all yours.

You casually walk into the commune, a minute waddle to your steps due to the slight bump messing up your balance, and killing your back.

People wave to you, they smile at you, and are incredibly kind to you. You aren't sure why, but you're not complaining. You ask a few individuals where Viktor is, and they guide you to the heart of the commune, where Viktor's room resides.

You enter without any hesitantion, and the sight blows you away.

It’s Viktor. He's here, he's alive.

He’s changed.

His body is a mixture of purple flesh and bits of metal. His face has been left untouched, his hair grown out with some pieces ombréing to a blond at the bottom. His eyes a kaleidoscope of colours, but when he looks at you they're predominantly gold. Like before the accident.

His smile is warm, but small as he walks towards you. He no longer needs any assistive devices.

He's beautiful.

“Darling, you’re here. I didn't think I’d ever see you again.” His voice is a smooth purr as it rumbles out of him. You quirk an eyebrow and huff a bit, “You’re the one who left. I'm just coming back to get what's mine.”

Viktor's laugh is a small one, but genuine. His face changes slightly now, his expressiveness not as apparent as before. You'd be surprised if he hadn't changed. He did die.

But he's here now, and that's all that matters.

“I am yours, and you are mine. But I don't want to go back. What I'm doing here, it’s vital. It’s good. I'm finally able to help others.”

You smile lightly at the increasing passion in Viktor’s voice. He's hard-headed and stubborn. If he doesn't want to leave, he's not going to. But you're not certain if you can stay here. You're going to need a hospital at some point.

“Well, do you have a hidden healthcare team I don't know about?”

Viktor looks confused, “Why would I need a healthcare team? I heal everyone fully. There's no need for hospital workers here.”

“Well unless you want to deliver your baby yourself, I'm going to need a healthcare team here.”

Viktor pauses, his eyes wide as he scans over you intently. His eyes zero in on the small bump of your stomach.

His voice wavers, “You’re— you”

You calmly fill in the gaps for him, “I’m pregnant.”

Viktor's jaw drops a bit before he surges forward and kisses you passionately, his hands cupping your face. You gasp a bit and Viktor caresses your tongue with his, you wrap your arms around his tiny waist.

When the two of you pull back, your lips are puffy due to the intensity of the kiss, you're a bit out of breath, and Viktor is littering your neck with possessive hickeys.

“My lovely girl, you've come all this way to be with me, we’re having a baby. Oh my love this is great. You'll stay here. We’ll be happy. We’ll be safe. I'll never let you go now.”

He puts a hand possessively onto your stomach, cradling the bump. Your heart beats loudly into your ears. You're not sure how you feel, but the heated look Viktor gives you makes you shiver a bit.

“I’ve been wondering day in and day out if you'd ever come to me. If I'd see you again. I've been dreaming of you. Your voice, your hair, your skin, your touch. Now you're here, and growing an undeniable proof of our love. How I've missed you, how I've craved you.”

He kisses you once more, the passion almost overwhelming. His hands are warm, almost too warm. It feels like he's marking you, branding you. Your cheeks, down the sides of your neck, your waist, your hips. Each touch is electric, warm, and makes your head dizzy. It isn't until Viktor pulls away and smirks at you do you realize it wasn't metaphorical. He's literally branded you.

A kaleidoscope of colours merges beautifully with your skin, enhancing your cheekbones, the delicate lines of your neck, your collar bones, the dip of your waist, the flesh of your hips.

You’re undeniably Viktor’s. His marks are all over you. His hickeys, his brands, his seed growing in your womb.

You're his in every possible way. In mind, body, and soul.

And he is yours.

Viktor might’ve changed a bit, but he's still the same man you fell in love with all those years ago, and that's all that matters.

(except he changes once more when Jayce kills him. Will you stay with the Machine Herald, or had this final transformation pushed you two to the brink of collapse? You don't know this will happen, so you're content in your happy little bubble; for now.)

The amount of yandere asks I have for Viktor, y'all are thirsty for this man. Me too y'all so I'm not judging. A possessive obsessive Viktor is a wet dream ngl

[patchworkcuddlebug]

notes

DONT SUBMIT THIS. this is just where im gonna write down observations and hypothosises hypotheses about the artifact this isnt a formal report. keep this pages seperate from anything you submit to the class

i found it at a non-magical thrift shop. its a single ribbon that was in the toy section, but its too big for a stuffed animal, and it was on a shelf too high for kids to reach anyway. its a simple red colour and you can tell from the wear/bends in the fabric that its meant to be worn in a bow

its SO cursed. i could sense it as soon as i was through the door. something doesnt get that powerful accidentally, unless a witch older than the professors have been using it for over a century. i think it was intentionally enchanted and left for some human sucker

ill read up on class protocol and start experimenting tomorrow

day 1

i scheduled some time in a mannequin room. i double checked everything, the falsified humanity in the mannequin, lack of external contamination, everything seemed fine. after 3 hours of the bow on its wrist, and then its hair, i cant find any registerable enhancements or curses.

my current hypothesis is that there isnt any effect on the wearer. its a false positive enchantement, where all of its energy is going towards appearing powerful instead of actually doing anything

which is a relief cuz according to protocol i can wear it now ehehehe. i was really hoping its be benign because its a really cute ribbon? i was kinda distracted by the magic part but its really nice! it has a fun retro vibe, i love how the colour is just a little faded too. should i wear more ponytails?

day 2

started out by just wearing it on my wrist. i know it probably doesnt make too much of a difference as long as im wearing it at all, but i dunno if it really is cursed i at least dont want it to start by my brain

i dont think there were any effects? maybe its cuz i kept fiddling with it all day so it may have interrupted the connection? most cursed artifacts need a physical connection and if this is an accessory it could be designed for long-term contact. so i guess as long as i take it off every once in a while ill be fine? im still sticking with the false positive hypothesis, just being precautious

i guess i could just talk about my day in case there are symptoms in retrospect? i cant really think of anything negative though. i did a great job focusing in class and i feel like i was really productive. i made some good progress on my term paper and i took really solid notes

i guess i kinda zoned out between classes? it wasnt when i was talking with friends or anything just doing menial stuff like walking around. i wasnt daydreaming or anything it was just like my brain kinda shut off and my body moved on its own. i dont think thats a thing, im probably just on edge and noticing a habit for the first time. nothing to worry about

Day 3

alright. i wore it in my hair today. so far so good?

i experienced the following things that may be symptoms: minor stiffness in the muscles, a greater inclination to formality, and a strange feeling in the wrist (specifically the same one i wore the ribbon on yesterday). the feeling is hard to pin down, its a strange floaty stiffness underneath the skin. it isn't unpleasant, but the asymmetry isnt welcome.

i feel like this is definitely an effect of my wearing it closer to my head, like i suspected the other day. i dont think its enough to warrent taking it off yet. its a very nice ribbon.

Day 4.

I am turning into a doll.

I shouldn't have kept wearing it. I should've taken yesterday as a warning. Now I feel that emptiness spreading and it's spreading way too fast. There's also the... physical transformation.

My left wrist is starting to... it's hard to explain. I can feel the changes happening. There's still skin over my wrist joint but it feels like it's not natural. It's still literally human skin, but it feels as if there's a glove that's growing thinner by the hour. I think before the day is over it'll waste away completely as it slowly corrupts the rest of my hand.

The mental transformation is much more worrying. In the grand scheme of things my behaviour is mostly unchanged. I'm just more... aware of it now. Typically, I naturally slouch, and I've been made more self-aware of this habit to the extent that I need to manually initiate it rather than falling into it unconsciously. It's the same with whenever I notice my attention drifting during lectures, or notice that I'm walking too loosely, or speaking too casually. It may just be that heightened awareness is an aspect of dollhood, or... it's more noticable because it's out of place for a doll to act in such a way. Regardless, I do not feel forced to defy this inclinations yet.

I don't want to write the same way I did before. Looking at how I did before feels... wrong. Inappropriate. i can try and force something more casual but i have to force it, it feels like trying to speak a second language youve only. Excuse me. That you've only just started learning. I want to go back and fix that but I feel like it would undermine my point. It just doesn't feel right, there's something viscerally discomforting about doing that.

I'm very hesitant to reach out about this. Beyond a fear of social repercussion inherent to admitting that a witch is becoming a doll, I'm worried that there will be a serious academic punishment attached to being this callous with a cursed artifact. I'll need to find a student I can trust to reverse this.

Day Five.

Things are getting dire. This I can feel the changes getting harder to resist.

Physically, the transformation has already converted my entire left arm. My wrist, elbow, and most of its my left hand have been changed into a hollow plastic, only movable with exposed joints. This one exp I expected it to feel more harrowing, for the creeping conversion to feel more tangibly uncomfortable, but so far it is... pleasant. Being emptied out always seemed so unwelcome when the older witches described it, but it feels nice to not have the constant pulsing of blood or the strain of muscles. This one likes the noise it makes when it taps agains

I. Me. I do. Me me human person witch.

This is what I mean. It feels like I have to be vigilant to talk like a person, and a single moment's broken concentration is all it takes to give in and become complacent to dollhood.

I need to intentionally break my posture to slouch. This one c I cannot stop my footsteps from being dainty and gentle. During lectures when the professor asks for input from the class, it takes deliberate effort to avoid participation, because good dolls always do as they are told.

I didn't write that. I swear to the stars I didn't write that. It was thinking about what to write next and that thought just... naturally injected itself. Perhaps this one needs to. Perhaps I need to resort to desperate measures and remove the bow. But I... really don't want to. It makes this one look so pretty, like a good doll.

No, no, I'm not a good doll, I don't WANT to be a good doll. I feel like I'm going insane. My humanity is draining by the second and soon there's be nothing left but empty pliability and polite docility. That is a bad thing. I am not excited for that. This one needs to put more effort into finding a witch to break this curse. It wishes it could skip its lectures, but good dolls do as they're t

I. Am. Going to bed.

Day Six.

This one's friends have finally noticed. This one accidentally called one of them "miss" when answering a question, and then the entire secret quickly unravelled. This one needed to use a sweater to hide the transformation reaching its shoulders, and there's a distinctly inhuman texture to this one's face, so it was easy for them to unravel once I gave them reason to be suspicious.

They offered to be the ones to conduct the search for the cure, on the only condition that this one take care of some menial chores to help free time in their schedules. This one feels... a little conflicted. On one hand, it is excited to be closer to its humanity! It cannot wait to feel blood spill through its body, and escape that terrifying feeling of having its brain shut off so it feels nothing but a fluttering emptiness.

This one. Just said "Awawa". Out loud.

It does not want this to progress further. Yes, it feels... very nice to be a doll. But that enjoyment has to be the work of the curse. This one needs to return to its study, it cannot afford to fall behind in the academic arms race. Being a human means having expectations to fulfill, something dolls are too simple and too docile to understand.

This one. Did it. Again.

This is a vacation. Nothing more. It will indulge in its urges to be obedient when doing chores for its friends and then return to developing its magic talent to the greatest degree the curse will allow.

Day Five Hundred and Twelve.

This one was rather surprised to find its notes from before it became. They were tucked away in its closet, with other sentimental items such as certain childhood keepsakes and its government identification. This one figured it would be fun to return to journaling as a hobby.

As can likely be surmised, this one remains a doll. The search for a cure was fruitless and fizzled out naturally due to a lack of investment, both from this one and from Miss. Speaking of, Miss is one of its friends from university, although the word "friend" feels like a shallow means of explaining a doll's relationship with its witch. Its other friends still keep contact and meet up for tea, which this one greatly enjoys catering for.

It feels very silly looking back at this one's humanity, especially given the apprehension it felt towards becoming. In retrospect, the situation being forced upon this one was likely the only way it would have become without years of soul-searching introspection, so it is very thankful to have happened upon such a gift so long ago. Perhaps part of its enchantment was to find the right host?

Part of this one misses that ribbon. It was such a nice colour... but this one feels confident in the decision to return it to the same thrift store it was once found in. It feels excited for the next lucky doll to feel the same joys that this one did. The exhilaration of feeling your body become lighter and more rigid, the stillness slowly overtaking your mind with greater and greater intensity, and of course the pleasure of following one's purpose. Awawawa...

It is late, and good dolls need rest. This one is excited to spend tomorrow night writing about all the joys of serving Miss.

[penumbra-mayhem]

The Fall of an Alpha (ch. 1)

David had never really known grief before…He'd begun to think that maybe death just didn't affect him that way. He thought maybe he just wasn't built to grieve.

(TW: death, car accident, grief)

———————————————

Sept 3. 2017, 11:04 pm

Between the raging storm outside and the blaring tv in front of them, they barely heard the knock at the door. It was only on the second attempt did they notice, and even then it could have easily been dismissed as thunder.

Milo gave David and Asher confused glances. “You guys expecting anyone?”

David shook his head. Asher shrugged; he paused the game and tossed his controller behind him as he said, “I’ll get it.”

Milo stretched out in the newly available couch space, calling out, “Could you get more chips while you’re up? We’re almost out.”

“Get them yourself!” Asher retorted as he padded down the hallway, “Unless you’re too short to reach!”

“Oh fuck right off!”

Asher chuckled as he reached the front door. He didn’t bother looking through the peephole before answering, but as soon as he saw who it was, he wished he had. It would’ve given him a moment to steel himself.

An officer was standing in the hallway, her dripping face starkly grim. Asher recognized her as a shifter from a neighboring pack.

“Evening. Beta David Shaw lives here, yes?” she asked.

Asher tightened his grip on the door handle. “Uh...yeah, he’s um my roommate.”

“Is he here now?”

“Can I uh, ask what this is about?” Asher replied, his voice cracking slightly.

“There’s been an accident.”

It felt like the ground gave out from underneath him. Like a blast of thunder had gone off in his chest.

“Hey, Ash, who is it?” David called from the living room.

Asher ignored him. “Gabe?” he whispered, eyes wide.

She gave him small nod.

“Is he…just tell me, is he dead?”

She shifted her weight uneasily before nodding. “Yes.”

“Come in.”

He moved aside to let her in, closing the door behind them. “He’s uh, he’s in the…um...follow me,” Asher said breathlessly. His feet were like bricks as he led the officer down the hallway.

Milo and David looked up to see a very pale Asher hurry across the living room and practically cower in the corner.

“Who was…” the words died in David’s mouth as he and Milo looked over at the officer standing in the doorway to the living room, rainwater trickling down her coat and pooling at her feet.

David stood, an edge of authority in his voice as he spoke, “Officer. What can I do for you?”

“Beta Shaw, please, have a seat,” she replied.

He stayed standing. “What’s going on?”

“David…” Asher pleaded.

David’s eyes shot over and met Asher’s—they were already red and glassy. He lowered himself back onto the couch, then looked over at the officer as dread climbed into his chest.

She stepped forward, her voice stern but not unkind, “Beta Shaw. About forty-five minutes ago, Alpha Gabriel Shaw was in a car accident. He died on the scene.”

David had never really known grief before. Sure, his mom had died, but he had been too young to really know what was going on. A few distant relatives and pets had died over the years, too, but none of that had seemed to really affect him. The deaths of his grandparents had been sad, but not debilitatingly so. He'd begun to think that maybe death just didn't affect him that way. He thought maybe he just wasn't built to grieve.

It was instantaneous. It felt like shifting—a full and all-encompassing transformation. Grief ran like magic through his bones, warping his core and leaving him unrecognizable. Those in the room felt it—Asher especially. He almost reached out, almost said something, but David was already talking, his voice cavernous:

"Thank you, officer, for informing me of the situation. Where is his body now?"

The officer blinked in surprise, but quickly composed herself. "The coroner has taken him to the nearest morgue."

"I assume they'll want me there to confirm his identity?"

"Yes, but you don't have to go imme—"

"Can you take me?"

She furrowed her brow. "Yes, sir."

David moved to grab his coat.

Milo shot up. “David, wai—”

“Stay here, both of you. Don’t tell anyone what’s happened. I’ll call for an emergency meeting tomorrow morning,” David commanded, “I want to avoid as much panic as possible.”

And with that, he left, pushing through the doorway and into the hall. The officer took a deep breath before following.

Milo sank back down. The two heard the front door open and shut.

For a minute, they didn’t speak. The storm swelled outside, rattling the windows of the apartment. The pause music on the tv played over and over at a low volume.

Staring blankly at the wall opposite him, Milo mumbled, “We’ve gotta tell Tank.”

“We can’t. You heard David,” Asher croaked from his corner.

“David’s not in his right mind,” Milo retorted, his eyes beginning to burn, “Gabe is like a father to Tank.”

“…was,” Asher whispered.

Milo locked eyes with him, silently pleading.

"I...I'm going to the bathroom," Asher replied before hurrying down the hallway. He couldn't say yes, but he wasn't going to stop him. Especially when Milo was right. They needed to tell Tank before they heard it from anyone else or, god forbid, at the pack meeting.

Asher closed the bathroom and leaned his weight against it as sobs tore through his body, robbing him of everything—sound, breath, strength. He slid down the length of the door to the floor in a silent, heaving heap as his mind spun.

He gave himself five minutes.

———————————————

Milo pulled out his phone, groaning in frustration as he struggled to read his screen, tears flooding his vision. He wiped his eyes with one hand as he pulled up Tank’s contact with the other.

Tank was somewhere loud; he could hear it through the phone.

“Miles, what’s up?” Tank all but shouted.

“I need you to come to Ash and David's,” Milo rasped.

“What? Wait-wait, gimme a sec,” Tank said. He could hear them pushing through a crowd, then the sound of a door opening and slamming shut, followed by the shush of rain. They must have moved outside.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?” Tank asked.

“No I just…I need you here. Now.”

He could hear the panic in their voice. “...I can be there in twenty—no, fifteen.”

“No! Don’t speed. Please, Tank, drive slowly. It’s late, it’s raining, it’s not—” Milo held his phone away from his mouth for a second as a sob slipped out, “It’s not safe.”

Tank must’ve heard it. Their words shot out of their mouth as they strode into the rain, “Is David there? Ash? I swear, Miles, if you’re hurt and not telling me—”

“Tank, please,” Milo begged.

“Okay! Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

“…we’ll leave the door unlocked. Drive slow.”

Once they hung up, Milo put his phone on the coffee table. He bit his clenched fist as tears pooled in his eyes and his chest convulsed.

————————————————

Everything was happening too quickly; David couldn’t keep up. One minute he was getting into his car, ready to follow the cruiser in front of him to the morgue. The next, he was looking down at a shrouded body, being asked if he was ready.

Ready? Fuck no, he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for any of this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Gabe wasn’t supposed to die suddenly, in his prime, leaving his 24 year old son to pick up the pieces. Leaving him an orphan.

Orphan.

The word made a desert of his mouth. He was alone. Entirely. His last safety net. His last pillar of support. His last corner to hide in. Gone.

David was bare, flayed open for the world to see. He’d never felt so exposed, and it made him panic. But there was no time to panic. He was still the Pack Beta. He still had a job to do. And for as long as he could, he’d throw himself into it, fully. So David chiseled a hard look onto his face and nodded.

The sheet was pulled back.

Everyone always said David looked like his dad. He took so much pride in that comparison. But in that moment, he saw no resemblance. He didn’t have an out-of-body experience, seeing himself on the table. He didn’t spiral at the sudden realization of his own mortality spurred by the likeness of his dead father.

Because that wasn’t Alpha Gabriel Shaw, revered Founder of the Shaw Pack.

That wasn’t Gabe, loyal friend and loving father.

The body before David was just a man, battered and broken beyond repair. It felt wrong to claim this husk as his father, felt like a lie.

But David had a job to do.

“Yes, that’s him.”

————————————————

When sound returned to his body and his sobs were no longer silent, Asher muzzled them with a frantic hand. He couldn’t let Milo hear. He had to be there for him. Once his self-allotted time was up, Asher rose on shaky legs. He pressed a washcloth to his face. He straightened his clothes. He smiled.

Leaving the bathroom, Asher went down the hallway into the kitchen and began to heat some water. He pulled down mugs. He got out tea. He waited. He poured the water. He wiped his tears. He smiled.

The mugs clinked in his hand as he carried them into the living room. He set them on the coffee table. He placed one tea bag in each. He sat next to Milo. He smiled.

“You get ahold of Tank?”

“Yeah,” Milo croaked, “They’re coming over.”

“Good. That’s good.”

He smiled.

————————————————

After ten minutes, Milo’s phone began to buzz.

Asher removed his arm from around Milo’s shaking shoulders and grabbed the phone off the coffee table, handing it to him. Milo cleared his throat before answering.

“Tank?”

“Is he dead?!?”

Milo could hear the storm on their end, along with cars rushing past them. Were they still driving? He prayed to whoever or whatever would listen that they'd at least pulled over.

“Wh-what?” Milo stammered.

“I saw his fucking car, Milo! Smashed up in the middle of the fucking intersection!! Is Gabe fucking dead?!?”

Asher gaped at Milo; Tank wasn't on speakerphone, but they were shouting loud enough for him to hear.

“ANSWER ME MILO!”

Milo glanced at Asher, who was vehemently shaking his head no. Not now. Not this way. Wait.

“…yes, he’s dead—”

“And David?!”

“David wasn’t in the car. But Tank, I need you t—” Milo was cut off as the line went dead, “Tank? Tank?!?”

Asher grabbed Milo's arm.

“They-they hung up," Milo whimpered, "At least I think they did. I hope they did…oh god." He called Tank again. It went to voicemail.

"Fuck!" he yelled, throwing his phone across the room.

Asher rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, scrubbing away the hot tears before they fell but no doubt turning the lighter patches of his skin a blotchy red. He put his arm back around Milo as he fished out his own phone from his pocket and called Tank.

Voicemail.

He hung up and tried again.

Voicemail.

Milo growled and stood up abruptly. He grabbed his coat and moved towards his phone.

“Wh-where’re you going?” Asher stammered.

“To Tank’s place,” Milo replied, picking up his phone, “You stay, in case they come here.”

“Milo, it’s still really bad out there, maybe you should wai—”

“I’ll have to call one of Colm’s old coworkers, find out where the crash was.”

“What? Milo—”

“I need to drive by it. Maybe Tank’s still there. Or maybe,” Milo’s breath caught in his throat, “maybe they crashed too. I don’t know. So I’ll drive by there on my way to Tank’s. I’ll text you when I get there.”

Milo was out the door before Asher could speak. Alone, he crumbled, sobs overtaking him once more.

[lagt-duck]

Day 27 of Monkey May

MAGIC!!!

Aka

When the eldritch shapeshifting god is also a silly lil monkey

As always the challenge belongs to @vorpaldoodles

[1001aus]

Phantom is a member of JLA when everyone finds out that the Bats have contingency plans against everyone else.

While everyone else is shouting about trust and betrayal, Danny can't help but be relieved. He's seen his bad future, after all. Dan is reformed now, but that doesn't retroactively save the timeline he wiped out.

Danny only has one issue with the contingencies for him: Batman mistakenly believes that his intangibility works the same as Martian density shifting.

It doesn't. In fact, they're very different powers. Intangibility is more of a phase shift where he turns his physical form into energy.

This means that none of the contingencies in his file will work because they don't accurately account for one of his basic powers.

(The shouting actually gets derailed for a bit when he brings it up. All the scientists are a bit horrified about the implied energy conversions happening whenever he uses this "basic" power. As a halfa with an actual physical form, Danny should be giving off enough energy to blow up the planet whenever he transforms.)

[bonkalore]

Some good ol' monster transformation angst! Shockingly, I don't have a lot TF sequences done, but that's mostly bc they're hard to draw and tedious lol

Anyway, Danny boy had gradual bouts of TFs before fully getting to see what it is exactly he's turning into. Hoagie also having some PTSD having to see this go down when he also has dealt with unwilling TF bc he was human before... Fun stuff for both parties.

[tumblingxelian]

Fox Miraculous - Reimagined:

This is inspired by the fact its "illusions" cannot be seen by cameras. Rather than this being a weakness, its a reflection of the fact most users do not understand the fox.

Name: Trixx Animal: Vulpes Era: Caveasphaera Domain: Mirage and Manifestation Kindred: Horse (Action & Migration) & Butterfly (Transmission & transformation)

Mirage: The Fox is often mistaken for creating illusions, but this is not so, in truth it creates what can be described as hallucinations within a certain range, altering the perspective of those within it to match the imagined perceptions of the user.

Manifestation: The power to manifest one's innermost thoughts, an image, ideas, or more via the Fox can also be applied on others. Just as the Turtles Shield can encase the user or a foe, so two an the Fox manifest a mirage based on the perceptions of someone other than the Holder.

Some Mages Thousands of Years ago: ... and this one lets the handler place hallucinations in someone else's mind, or even externalize their targets thoughts, manifesting them as a sort of shared mirage. Useful for trickery and interrogation.

Trixx, who just got here: Yeah that sounds about right.

(Maybe) Lila/Alya thousands of years later: So what you’re saying is I can use this to make people see the world as I do. That I am essentially eroding the barrier between my perception of the world and theirs, imposing my thoughts, feelings and visions upon the target. Which could allow me to steadily warp and erode their sense of self and view of the world until its either the same as mine, or simply whatever I sculpted them into. Essentially allowing me to steadily overwrite an entire personality and perception of reality? With all it costs me being the risk of my own slower erosion of self as all those around me join together in a panopticon like hivemind?

Trixx & Some Mages Thousands of Years ago:

Note: One can try and reshape people over time, but one cannot always predict the results. So it could go really, really badly.

[witchofthesouls]

Hey, for the other!tfp trio….let's assume that the team remained on really close contact despite the distance after the war (RID 2015 who knows you? Certainly not me). I wanna see a really touching reunion between the bots and their protegees, but here's the twist:

They return to their kids, only to find out that these three are no longer kids, but young adults (maybe late teens for Raf, because our future little Dragon always will be the youngest of the trio) and are no longer humans (cause they have fully embraced their other heritage)

This time-lapse could be explained by either A) the bots spending a bit longer on Cybertron and losing the human sense of time or B) The kids deciding to make a joint trip to elsewhere/the other side after the end of the war, where time doesn't move the same as in the human plane (they went as kids, but elsewhere spit them as grow ups even though this change doesn't make sense to the bots.... because they are seeing things from a human sense of time); now, when exactly these three got lost and then reborn, that's privy to them alone.... I prefer the B) option if you ask me....

Regardless, I think that these three would remain tightly nit, as tight as possible (they could be on the other extreme of the planet or any other plane, and yet they would return to each other...eventually). Cause after all the went through, separation is not an option for them

Reactions and talks/explanations are meant to happen in response to this..... and what roles June, the Esquivels and the Nakadais families had to play in all this

Ohhh, this is interesting. I hinted or understated in some pieces that time can get weird in Elsewhere as a call to the folktales and myths of humans stepping into an otherworldly space to spend a few hours there, and then stepping back to their world to find out decades had passed.

Perhaps it's their heritage, singing in their bone marrow and igniting from the Matrix's influence, June's own presence (haunting and hungry, no matter how muted or how well she hides her own teeth), or a strange combination. Perhaps it's the experiences they shared, forged in fire and blood as Earth's own chaotic nature. But these three are bonded. Intertwined with each other, even across the world.

Distance means both little and much to them now. They ventured onto foreign, alien planets and spaceships, traveled to lands across the world in the blink of an eye, and went on the run from a manhunt.

Miko keeps the Apex Armor and takes it back to Japan. At the right moments and when the urge gets too much to bear, she steps into the sea and goes farther than any of her relatives could go, even the ones that can hold their breath for 20 minutes.

She hasn't been the most filial of daughters, but she is her parent's child. Her sea-blooded mother stole back a human that survived and thrived from Elsewhere and claimed that man as a spouse. Bloodlust and wet works are no distant strangers to her. She's inexperienced but a willing learner. She already cut her teeth on foreign flesh.

Down in the dark depths where there's no difference between going up to the sun and going towards the abyss, but where her steps tread, she meets someone with pearly, iridescent scales across a long, serpentine body and a face so much like her own (and her mother's and her grandfather's and her-) with large, dark eyes with an amber ring.

After meeting the yokai that birthed her lineage centuries ago, Miko finds her way back to the Americas. A blessing and a warning kept in her heart.

(One day, Miko will understand what her sea-blooded mother meant when she told her that her father was a 'good Man.'

Raf's deep fascination (admiration, obsession) with space exploration and technology is taken in stride among the Esquivels. He doesn't raise any suspicion among them because that's how they all are.

He absorbs whatever he can, consuming the hard-earned lessons under Ratchet's care and oft-handed commentary. The Esquivels hunger and Raf is no different as he swallows how Cybertronian theory and application and attempts to further bridge between human and alien equipment.

Raf had found his teeth and his siblings recognized it as their baby brother doesn't disappear on them nor shrink away from their more vicious arguments.

(They are a family whose flesh descended from fire tempered by earth. Raging passion and violent temptations. Wicked protection and immense wrath. Voracious, cruel, and beastly, yet so very kind and vigilant.)

Mama kissed her youngest boy (because Raf will always be her baby boy) on his head and told him to be careful, praying for his safety as he went with Jack.

That protection will save them on a summer trip when Jack retraces his steps to all the places he once called home.

Ever since his mission to Cybertron, Jack dreams of strange, wistful things. An unquenchable thirst, an itch in his bones... he feels bereft for some reason.

He misses Arcee. He misses all of them. But for some reason, Jack still dreams of the timelessness of Cybertron. There's still something that calls to him in that eerie stillness. Not the desolate ruins of alien cities, although they quietly sing between hope and despair, but it's the outskirts that wait with bated breath.

In the summer after graduation, he takes his new-used car and travels across the mainland United States. The windows are down as the radio blares, wind ruffles his hair as Raf laughs and tries to figure out maps since some locations are so off-beat that the GPS can't confirm the coordinates.

Deep in the bones of a decrepit old house he once called a home in his long-distant childhood because June and Jack moved repeatedly, hopping from place to place without rhyme or reason... there are the echoes of a wailing scream buried within it.

A living corpse for a copse of trees that guard the area.

(A mother will tell her son what exactly brews in their powerful blood and what she has done to ensure he grew up safe to make a choice.)

Elsewhere exists in so many ways, shapes, and forms. At one point, the legends and myths had once walked upon Earth and left their marks. Something happened in the unwritten, unspoken past that corralled those legends away.

The trio will venture through the many portals and gateways and have many more adventures as they realize there are far more Cybertronian relics on Earth...

Mermaid queens and Seelie emperors, dignitaries of unearthly shapes painted in enamel and precious jewels, sharp animals with sharper intelligence that speak in prose, the faint imprints in slumbering environments, and empty, the lingering remains of humanity's role among such great and terrible things.

(Humanity was (is) great and terrible themselves.)

(Miko's father is a 'good Man,' and that means something different to such beings.)

"Long ago, Man made peace with Magic." "Long ago, it was decreed that Man would stay."

Time isn't linear in Elsewhere which incorporates so much that a single or several maps would be useless. Time flows in so many directions that it's a constant battle to recognize and travel to and from their own particular section of a river.

Perhaps it's his heritage or a minor blessing from the Matrix, but Jack is more sensitive to flow and can locate the best spots for them to get back to their Earth. To the same week, month, or year they ventured away.

Miko explores her own bloodthirst and prey drive. The singing, thrumming chant in her blood and how the Apex Armor responds to it.

Raf hones his own instinct on his particular guidance to find portals and lucky happenstances. Between him and Jack's instincts for 'shiny' things, little can escape them.

In some worlds, they grow older. Aging and bulking, exploring how to reshape themselves and all sorts of careers. In others, they seem immortal compared to the rapid change around them in a species whose lifespan is a single human year.

"We could be gods here," says a man with a firestorm trapped in his bones and has become a dragon. Not a Dragon because he searches the stars for a mech he once called brother. "Are we not gods already?" The not-man made of shadows and feathers replies. He still dreams of a far-distant metal planet and realizes that it whispered to him back then. "Does it matter," laughs a woman encased in armor that's more like a second skin, tendrils sweeping upon the floor like the gentle motion of a calm tide upon the beach. Pink for her lost girlhood and passion, a warning and a sign from her many great-grandmother. Green as the metal she once called her kin.

When humans are pulled Elsewhere. Three things usually happen: they break there, they struggle or thrive, or they break at home.

"How many times have we done this?" A boy that's not really a boy, who shall become a dragon in so many lifetimes, asks his companions. (Raf keeps his sister's warning close to his heart as she once died in a foreign, strange desert and was resurrected in her own pyre to devour the city that enslaved her and so many countless others. Pilar has become a Dragon and that legacy between mortal and divine shall be her epitaph in a battlefield far sooner than later.)

Ratchet returns. Some things change, while some remain the same.

Jack tastes the grief and repressed anger upon the medic and leaves him be. Raf remembers Ratchet parked in the garbage and keeps the old medic busy between lessons and searches. Miko digs into the festering tangle of emotions, lapping into those wounds as she uses the Apex Armor on the training mats to absorb those fighting skills and grills for information about Cybertron and the rest of Team Prime.

She cares, she really does, but the boys' avoidance of Ratchet's issues won't help anyone, especially if (or when) the medic leaves the planet with no way to contact again.

Ratchet went Elsewhere twice. The first time was a rough pill to swallow as Team Prime never realized its existence. He wondered where the trio had scavenged a considerable amount of Energon crystals and the resources to guard the new base with all the newly acquired. He stiffly apologized to them because he had thrown hurtful words over their travels, calling them "superstitious" and "better than that" and "this is why you never applied yourselves" was the least of the insults. The second time, he realized just how much and fast humans age as he counted each tick on his chronometer as they ventured across new continents and strange seas. Those years and crippling injuries and strange bodies melt away from the trio as they return back to their native Earth and their baseline human form.

June visits them. Ratchet never thought to ask how she found them in Nevada when Agent Fowler would have never told a civilian about them. No one questioned how she managed to bypass all the security with her car.

He tallies all the strange, eerie signs as she leaves hints to solve their challenges, how she seems to appear when food is low and they're too busy to bring anything more substantial than a simple run to the nearest fast food joint or a quick foraging session, how all the security in the world, both Cybertron's and Earth's, cannot track her.

"I am what I need or want to be." The one called June Darby demurely answers.

The only family member of Raf's that Ratchet will officially meet is Pilar whose bones are filled to the brim with rituals, survival tips with monsters, gods, and hostile environments, and formal protocols in so many kingdoms, both dead and alive. She grieves as well. She had given up the Dragon to return home but her memories are bursting full of laughter and people and color when the crumbling ruins the new Team explores are long empty of an extinct people or a fallen kingdom.

"Sometimes I think I carved out parts of my heart and left it there. All I have left are the memories as I'm the only one that remembers the campfire songs and the lessons of all those who helped me."

Ratchet will never meet the Nakadai family face-to-face, but he gets a hint of what they are with all the messages and packages they send their only child. Izumi sends pointers on how to prepare certain sea creatures and how to differentiate the signs of an underwater portal in treacherous waters. Her husband will leave cryptid messages and strange, gold pieces. Sometimes he sends coordinates for Miko to dig up a weapons cache or an informant to cultivate.

Of course, things change when the not-quite-human trio spirit back a Primal Artifact of Quintus Prime...

[relaxtimestwo]

Dan Heng Δ Witch Hat Atelier AU ⋆｡˚ ⋆

This is part of a Witch Hat Atelier AU concept I've been cooking up.

Hear me out!

The Astral Express is a moving atelier on rails run by the two witches Himeko and Welt and its watchful eye Pom-pom. The atelier has four apprentices- Dan Heng, March 7th and the twins, Stelle and Caelus.

The pointed cap and cloak designs are based on Pom-pom's outfit in-game, and also the "Welcome" profile pictures.

Hopefully I can develop this concept more when I have time next week!

edit- changed the "armband" colour to black for better contrast (it was bothering me but I couldn't understand why lol)

( ´ ▽ ` )ｏ♡ Witch hat atelier is one of my favourite manga of all time. Shirahama Kamome's artwork is god tier and the magic system and worldbuilding in it is so interesting! I highly recommend it!

➷ "Welcome" profile pic for Dan Heng in-game

➷ rough sketch for Dan Heng's full body design

[cryptid-cuisine]

god i need to be an anthro so bad

[happy10thousandyears]

I love freaky non romantic dynamics it’s crazy !!!!! When one party is a freak and the other party is normal but tolerants the first guys freakishness

[thedragonagelesbian]

time magic is right there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! do something horrific with it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[summerhighlandfalls]

Reading this is making me want to draw my wizard oc cloud in the WHA universe but also he would constantly be breaking the rules lmao

[dravidssideblog]

Evil fucked-up perma-TF monster that irreversibly transforms you into a regular human

[itsalwaysdark]

i wish there was a way for me to likeee. semi change this one thingin this one mod. but 1 im not a modder 2 i feel like thats disrespectful. i just want sort of an inbetween between the game and this mod but that is not a thing that exist... sigh

[punmonster]

concept: witches that instead of dying to the elements that were used to prove their nature, become a part of it, transform to survive it, embrace it as a source of strength

witches made of soot and flame

witches that grow tentacles and trick little mermaids

the list goes on