#the presenter is a spontaneous shapeshifter in this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

space-mermaid-writing · 8 months ago

Note

You cat stephen fic was perfect!💘

I was wondering If you could write a cat tony fic where stephen accidentaly casts a spell on him cuz he was being annoying😅

I did my best to write a cat!Tony story that lives up the cat!Stephen fic. I hope you like it 🐈 (As so often, this got way longer than planned; and that's also why you had to wait so long for this...) Beta by KJ :)

Summary: Stephen looked at the pile of clothes from which a very clearly not amused cat looked back. “Well, shit…”

Tags: cat!Tony, magical shenanigans, panic attack, normal cat behavior, fluff, fun, bordering on crack, don’t take this too seriously, just the regular everyday weirdness of magic man and engineer guy

Ko-fi | Masterlist | Cat!Stephen | Read it on AO3 | Word count: 5.4k

Cat for a day

Stephen looked at the pile of clothes from which a very clearly not amused cat looked back.

“Well, shit…”

His previous anger was forgotten, replaced by mild annoyance, as always when Tony touched something he wasn’t supposed to touch.

Well, he hadn’t touched the relic per se. Not with his hands anyway. But something in his aura – or Vishanti knew what – had triggered the relic and activated it mid-argument.

It hadn’t been anything important they had been arguing about, merely another technicality. Sometimes Stephen wondered why Tony bothered coming over into the Sanctum he loved to criticize the interior of; when they almost always ended up arguing about something.

It might have something to do with the fact that they were dating; which was a recent development. Tony could always change his mind… until then Stephen would happily welcome him into the Sanctum.

Anyway, that wasn’t the point here. The point was that Tony was now standing on four legs instead of two. And he was way more furry than he should be.

Stephen did this thing where he raised his brow totally unimpressed. “That’s what you get for touching stuff you shouldn’t,” he said in his best ‘I told you so’-voice.

The cat huffed and the noise he made sounded rather hoarse; as he had yet to figure how to use his new voice. The intent of his words was clear though. At least to the sorcerer.

“Well, you did something to that globe, because I didn’t use magic and I’m pretty sure you didn’t spontaneously develop a shapeshifting talent in the past five minutes.”

The cat climbed out of the pile of fabric. More noises came out of that tiny mouth. Stephen had no idea what he said but it sounded a lot like complaining. He waited until Tony was done and stared up at him, expectantly.

Only then did Stephen move his hands for a spell. “Stand still while I get you back. And don’t yell at me when you find out you are naked. None of this is my fault.”

He performed a simple counter spell; it was standard procedure really.

It did nothing.

Stephen tried two other spells – Tony remained a cat.

Something wasn’t right here and for the first time, the sorcerer felt uneasy. Turning Tony back shouldn’t be this complicated. He didn’t like to not know what was going on.

“I need to do some research,” he hesitantly admitted.

His words seemed to trigger something in the feline. Tony suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. His chest was too tight, and everything around him too big. His little body tensed and a weird noise escaped him, some kind of wheezing from deep within his lung.

“Tony.”

The cat didn’t seem to hear him. He was shaking and looked like he was five seconds away from running off. Stephen's hand gently grabbed the feline’s neck – right at the spot where a mother carried their kittens – and he applied soft pressure.

Tony had never been a kitten, but he stilled anyway.

“Deep breaths, Tony. In…and out… in…”

The cat slowly but visibly relaxed. He was still not making a move, but his eyes were more present; not as clouded as they had been moments before.

“You with me?” Stephen asked and got a small meow in return. He let go of Tony tentatively. The cat remained pressed to the floor for a second. Then he sat up, the shaking not yet completely gone, and looked around as if embarrassed by the panic attack.

There was no one around; they were all alone.

“Let’s go to the library.” The cat nodded, then yelped when he got scooped up into Stephen's arms. “I got you,” the sorcerer soothed him.

He was careful not to touch Tony’s chest since he was pretty confident that this weak spot had been transferred to the new body.

Tony was smart enough not to wriggle. Instead, he snuggled into his arms.

Tony was actually quite a cute cat; a brown and black tabby. Funnily enough, his facial hair had been translated into the fur pattern.

Stephen turned to walk away, but then remembered something: he shouldn't keep clothes lying around randomly in the relic room. With a flick of his hand, he teleported them ahead into the library.

He himself took the path on foot so as not to expose Tony to any more magic.

Besides, it wasn't far.

Once in the library, he set Tony down next to his clothes on a couch. "I need to get some books. Make yourself comfortable. It won't take long."

He disappeared between the shelves.

Tony looked after him. Another wave of panic rose briefly, but he quickly swallowed it down.

It was fine, he told himself. Stephen would fix this.

He decided to simply not think about the fact that magic had affected his body without Tony’s consent. His mind was still the same; it was only just his body that had changed.

He let out a frustrated noise, that sounded very much like a growl.

Oh yeah, and he couldn’t talk anymore. At least not with his normal voice. Stephen seemed to understand the sentiment well enough though.

That reminded Tony of something and he searched for his phone in the pocket of his pants.

It was difficult to pull out the device if you had no thumbs. Or any fingers at all. But after a few slippery attempts, he finally managed it.

And was immediately facing the next daunting task: using the touch screen.

It took him a while to figure out that his nose worked quite okay with the tech. Tony opened the app for writing notes – he had never used it before. Normally he talked to Jarvis. That was way faster and Jarvis knew how to filter his waterfall of words.

Now writing with his nose one letter at a time was frustratingly slow. Jarvis had been alerted when Tony unlocked the phone, but probably kept his quiet to wait for what happened because he couldn't identify Tony's voice nor his fingerprints.

Tony was halfway through his explanation when the A.I. finally spoke up. “Sir, am I right in assuming that you got turned into a cat but you are still able to understand English?”

The cat looked into the camera and nodded. “Meow.”

“I need you to confirm your identity,” Jarvis nevertheless demanded the safety measure that Tony had introduced to him.

The cat typed the combination of numbers and letters into his phone. They vanished as soon as he finished.

“Identity confirmed. Do you require medical attention, Sir?”

Tony denied it and told Jarvis to put his calendar on hold for the day until his situation got sorted out.

It was inconvenient to spell everything out, but this was his only way to communicate at the moment.

By then Stephen was back with his pile of books. He noticed the cat's head peeking over the back of the couch.

“You alright there, Tony?”

“Meow?”

He took that as a ‘yes’ and sat down to open the first book.

Tony curled up but soon enough he was bored. For one, he wasn’t in the mood to relax. Plus, he had never been one for idly sitting around; not as a human being, and not as a cat either.

He stretched; first his front, then his back legs. He then yawned widely.

His new body felt more agile. Lighter. His chest still hurt, as well as his left front leg. His shoulder had never fully healed.

Nevertheless, he had no trouble jumping off the couch silently. His tail flicked.

Everything seemed taller; the furniture, the ceiling. Tony had to crane his neck up; and decided immediately that he wasn’t a fan of this fact.

If Stephen noticed he left his place, he didn’t react and Tony took that as an invitation to leave the library in order to find food. Getting accidentally transformed had kicked up his appetite and he felt hungry. Purposeful small steps led him to the kitchen. Fortunately, he had no problem operating on four legs instead of the usual two.

On his way downstairs he heard a noise and his ears perked up. The Cloak of Levitation hovered at the top of the stairs. It had no face but its collar was tilted, watching the feline with curiosity.

“Mrew.”

The cloak flew down to him to prod the cat, who tried to evade it. Tony made a disgruntled sound and fended off the fabric with his paw.

He had already noticed from Stephen’s interactions that the Cloak of Levitation showed little understanding for personal space. And apparently, it wasn’t yet quite sure what to make of this cat. If it even recognized him as Tony or perhaps thought this was a new pet.

Tony continued on his way, with the cloak following him. Tony glanced over his shoulder at it but didn’t object.

In the kitchen, he faced a new challenge: doors. More specifically, cabinet doors.

Tony jumped onto the counter and tried to get into the upper cabinet that he knew stored toast. He had to stand on his hind legs, and reach up with his whole body to try and open the cabinet door.

It turned out to be rather difficult.

He barely kept his balance and pushed his paw into the narrow gap to swing the door open. It opened a little – and fell back close immediately.

The cat huffed in annoyance.

His gaze fell on the coffee maker. He needed one of those drinks. However, the mugs were also stored in one of the upper kitchen cupboards.So he was back to the same problem there.

Suddenly he understood why cats liked to push things off counters. He was very tempted to do the same with a nearby vase; out of sheer frustration.

That was when the cloak – which so far had simply watched him; or whatever it was that it did, hovering in the middle of the room – came over to him and opened the cabinet Tony had failed to pry open.

The cat meowed a thanks.

Now, jumping up into the upper cabinets was complicated by the fact that the compartments down low were fully packed. Tony stood on his hind legs and stretched up again to analyze his options; but before he could even try to start something, the cloak had taken out the bag of toast and set it down next to Tony.

That gave Tony an idea and sure enough, after some trial and error in communication, Tony had a decent sandwich and coffee in front of him shortly afterwards.

Tony took back any quip he ever threw at the cloak; that thing was a saint.

He ate his sandwich with relish. The texture felt weird in his tiny mouth. It wasn’t really made for this kind of food. But it tasted passable enough that he wasn't bothered by it.

The Cloak of Levitation stayed at his side, fascinatedly studying him. With a corner of its fabric it petted the cat’s head, and this time Tony let it happen; only his ears flicked, irritated more by the gesture than the actual action.

He heard voices approaching. It was a conversation between two sorcerers who entered the kitchen and Tony looked up. He did know apprentices came to the Sanctum for their studies or to do whatever it was magic people did around here – so he wasn’t alarmed when he didn’t recognize their faces.

They, on the other hand, stopped right in their tracks when they saw a feline on the counter right in the middle of what seemed to be the Sorcerer Supreme’s lunch snack: open packets of cheese and ham, a glass of pickles and toast and butter.

The butter knife didn’t quite make it to the sink but was lying on the edge of the sink, turned so that the blade reached dangerously far over the edge of the counter and threatened to fall off at any moment.

They were also pretty sure coffee wasn’t supposed to be served in a cereal bowl.

Hovering next to all the chaos was the Cloak of Levitation, who did nothing to prevent the cat from eating food that wasn’t for felines.

“Hey!” One of the sorcerers shouted sharply, and that triggered something in Tony’s cat brain.

He froze for a second. Then he took what was left of the sandwich in his mouth and bolted. He jumped on the floor and zipped right through the sorcerer’s feet. They tried to catch him but Tony was way faster, dodging their grip.

He ran down the hallway and through an ajar door. The room was unoccupied by people; Tony went under the couch anyway. Only then did he stop and catch his breath.

His little heart was beating fast in his chest. It was a strange feeling: it hadn't been fear that had made him leave the kitchen. However, it still felt like a fight-or-flight reaction. He didn’t want anyone to come between him and his food.

It was very atypical of him – but then again, it was a weird day. So Tony let it slide.

He peaked from under the couch and found that no one had followed him. Not even the cloak, which was – honestly – a bummer. It had been very useful.

Tony turned around to continue his meal when he noticed a pair of eyes in the darkness back under the couch.

They glowed yellowish with an eerie intensity, piercing through the darkness. Focused on Tony they seemed to follow his every movement, every breath, every heartbeat. And they were way too large for any creature to fit under here.

The shadows clung to it like a shroud, an inky blackness that seemed to devour the faint light falling under the couch.

This wasn’t natural.

The hairs on the back of Tony's neck stood up and his instinct yelled: danger! He held back a hiss, but was ready to bunk off at the slightest sign of an attack.

The eyes didn’t come closer. They did glance at the rest of the sandwich though.

Cautiously, Tony stepped to the sandwich, not taking his eyes off whatever it was that lurked in the shadows. He pulled the top part of the bread off and pushed it towards the creature; the yellow eyes watching the movement. Then it opened its mouth and for a moment Tony saw sharp teeth and a long tongue.

Then the bread was gone and Tony heard a satisfied noise. The yellow eyes close and don’t open again. They were gone.

The shadows were still present.

Tony took the leftover sandwich and moved out from under the couch back into the light. The feeling of imminent danger was gone but he wasn’t taking any chances.

_______________________

It was already dark outside when Stephen leaned back and rolled his neck and shoulders. The research had taken him longer than anticipated, mostly because he was diligent and thorough.

“Tony,” he called over to the couch.

He got no reaction.

Maybe he had fallen asleep. Yet, when Stephen thought about it, he had never seen Tony be quiet for so long. Normally he was always talking, mumbling to himself, and sharing his thoughts half-aloud.

The sorcerer stood up and stepped around the couch. He saw the reason why it was so peaceful: the couch was empty; there was no cat in sight.

Stephen looked around. “Tony?”

Still, no answer.

“I swear to the Vishanti, if he walked through the wrong door and fell into a black hole, I will call pest control to get him out.”

He left the library and reached out mentally to the Sanctum to figure out where Tony was. He felt several presences in the building – not surprising, as apprentices often studied here. But all of them were gathered in groups; he couldn’t make out a single figure alone.

Worry spread through Stephen and he set off to search for Tony.

“Tony?”

_______________________

“Meow mreew.” [“Anyway, it has a base plate of pre-famulated amulite surmounted by a malleable logarithmic casing in such a way that the two spurving bearings were in a direct line with the panametric fan.”]

Tony elegantly dodged the hand that wanted to pet him. He didn’t want to be touched by someone he barely knew for an hour.

“I’m pretty sure it’s from another dimension,” one of the apprentices said about the cat that they had found in the Sanctum. “Maybe it came with Master Reese. He recently went to Ektra’vall. This cat is way too smart to be a regular feline.”

Tony turned his head towards the young man, who stared at him.

“He just winked at me!”

Tony laughed, which came out as some weird purring noise.

He had found this group of young wizards and their books in one of the study rooms. They probably should be doing some homework or whatever task they had been assigned. But as soon as they spotted the unfamiliar cat they had coaxed it onto the table.

Tony liked the attention, thrived under it even. He had lectured them about turbo encabulators; not that they understood a word he meowed. Still, they were delighted by the chatty cat and talked to him. The result was two different conversations going on.

At one point, one of the apprentices conjured a packet of string cheese out of thin air and fed it to the cat. Tony was pretty sure that Wong would get an aneurysm if he saw the food right next to the ancient-looking books – but that wasn’t Tony’s problem.

He was just a cat. It was liberating. There was no pressure; nobody knew it was him. There weren’t any expectations.

Tony humored the wizard kid who used a pen as bait for him to play. He pounced at the end of the pen with his paw. Being a cat helped his mind to stop running a mile a minute.

His ears perked up when he heard the door open and he spotted a speck of blue. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Shouldn’t you work on your evocation studies?”

The apprentices hadn’t noticed the Sorcerer Supreme approaching and his voice caught them by surprise. They winced and turned towards him to bow respectfully.

“We are working on it,” the boy that had fed Tony pointed at the scripts. It didn’t help their case that a) he still had the string cheese in his hands and b) the tabby cat was sitting on one of the books, washing its face by licking its paw and preening his face.

The feline seemed unperturbed, like a regular cat. But Tony couldn’t fool Stephen.

“Really?” Stephen raised his eyebrow. “Because it rather looks like you all got distracted by Tony.”

The apprentices exchanged glances, throwing their attention at that piece of information.

“The cat’s name is Tony?”

“Is that short for Plutonium?”

“Will he stay longer at the Sanctum?”

They were all talking excitedly to each other.

Stephen tilted his head. His eyes met Tony’s, who looked way too smug. He was clearly enjoying the situation. Well, at least one of them had fun.

“The cat will not stay. Go back to your studies. I expect them by tonight.”

“Master Doctor Strange, it is already night.”

Huh, Stephen hadn’t noticed.

“Then you better hurry up. Tony, come with me. I have a few spells for you.”

Tony yawned before jumping off the table to follow the sorcerer, while one of the apprentices gasped quietly. “Dude, Plutonium is totally the Sorcerer Supreme’s new familiar pet.”

Tony turned back to him and made a displeased sound. He was no pet of anyone.

Holding his head and tail high, he walked at Stephen’s side. The tall sorcerer made big steps and Tony had to hurry to keep up.

He didn’t like that.

From this new perspective, Stephen was freakishly tall.

“Good to see you’re still a menace bothering people.” There was a smile on Stephen’s lips.

“Mrew miaow.” [“It’s called being bored. It’s not like there’s anything better to do around here.”]

Back in the library, the pile of books on Stephen's desk seemed to have grown even more. Tony jumped onto it. An easy task; he had perfect control of his body by now.

From the higher ground, he looked expectantly at the sorcerer.

“I did some research on the relic. Although it is stored in the Sanctum Sanctorum, it is occasionally used for teaching purposes in Kamar-Taj to demonstrate the fusion of different types of magic from several dimensions. Therefore it’s not surprising that it showed unprompted activity … anyway, you should be back to normal in no time.”

Stephen called upon his magic and used it to draw glowing lines into the air. It was a delicate pattern that formed into a sphere. When it was finished, Stephen let it fly over the cat and with a snap of his fingers it burst into golden sparks that rained down onto the feline.

Tony looked at it in awe. It was beautiful. He lifted his paw to catch a sparkle. It felt cool and melted into his fur, like a snowflake.

He still was a cat afterwards. Judging by Stephen's face, this was not the desired result. He looked distraught and tired. But it was gone in a second; then the determination was back.

“Maybe if I adjust the parameter.” The sorcerer reopened a book. “When you consider the magical volume... and that the relic may have stored traces of extradimensional magic…" Stephen mumbled further explanations to himself.

Tony didn’t even understand half of it. He watched and waited.

Stephen tried a new spell. And then another.

Sighing, he dropped into the chair and ran his hand through his hair, avoiding looking at the cat.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured. He wasn’t used to failure. “I will fix this. I promise.”

The ball of fur jumped onto his lap, letting out a high-pitched “Chirrup” to get his attention. Warm feline eyes met Stephen’s.

The sorcerer raised his hand to Tony and the cat headbutted it, prompting him to scratch the cat behind his ears. Contented, Tony leaned into the touch. He was purring soothingly as if he wanted to reassure Stephen everything was fine.

The sorcerer would have smiled at that sight if he wasn't so worried and disappointed in himself. He couldn’t let Tony down.

“I will go over everything one more time. Maybe I missed something.” That would be a first. Stephen was very accurate regarding research. He turned back to the books. Tony stayed on his lap, curled up.

_______________________

Stephen browsed every single script on the table but couldn’t find any mistakes. One of the spells should have worked.

He concluded that he needed more books. The answer was somewhere in the library. It always was.

Stephen stifled a yawn. Hours spent pouring over dense volumes had taken their toll, leaving his mind heavy and his eyes strained. His concentration had waned, and the words on the page blurred before his weary gaze.

But he had to pull through, for Tony’s sake.

Tony wasn’t a fan of magic. Understandably so. He had told Stephen about his encounter with the witch. Or at least parts of it.

Stephen was pretty sure he had downplayed it. From what he had heard, Stephen was still furious about the violation. What the witch had done to Tony was basically torture.

Tony only tolerated some magic because he liked Stephen. They took their relationship slow, step by step.

But now Stephen had screwed up and he wouldn’t be surprised if Tony hated him after this. Or at least wanted to take a break from the sorcerer and magic in general.

Stephen's eyes were unfocused in the distance, his thoughts drifting off. He didn’t realize it until something gently touched his beard.

When he looked down, he noticed Tony was watching him.

“Sorry,” Stephen muttered. “Go back to sleep.” He rolled his shoulders. The tension from the responsibility had settled in a knot between his shoulder blades that ached intensely. But it was no use; he had to pull himself together.

Tony tilted his head and then – as he came to a decision – he shook it. “Meow.”

“Not yet. But I’ll find the right spell.”

Apparently, that was not what Tony meant. He jumped off his lap and pawed at Stephen’s pants, motioning him to follow, meowing loudly.

"What is it?" Alarmed by the cat's sudden stubbornness, he followed him to the couch, where the engineer's clothes were still lying.

The cat hopped onto the cushions and patted them with his paw.

Stephen frowned, not sure if he understood correctly. “You want me to sit on it?”

“Mrew.”

“Why?”

Tony just stared at him and waited.

Stephen was too tired to argue and with a sigh he gave in. Tony was back in his lap as soon as the sorcerer sat down. He circled once to find a good spot before he moved into a perfect loaf, purring again.

Stephen petted the soft fur. “Now what?” he asked.

Tony blinked up at him with one eye.

“You want me to take a break?”

“Brrep.”

Stephen sighed again – this time because his body relaxed a bit. “Fine. Five minutes.”

It didn’t take a whole five minutes until the sorcerer's breathing became deep and even. His fingers moved slower and slower in Tony's fur until they finally stopped altogether; Stephen had fallen asleep.

Happy with that result, Tony closed his eyes as well.

_______________________

There was a noise on the other side of the couch that alerted Tony. He hadn’t heard anyone come in and decided to investigate.

He climbed onto the armrest and stared at the table Stephen had occupied. What he saw should have surprised him, but somehow it didn’t.

A ghost version of Stephen hovered in the air – cross-legged - browsing the books. The books seemed to be regular books and not ghost books; at least they weren’t transparent.

Ghost-Stephen turned a page and that had to be the noise that Tony had heard.

Tony knew about astral projecting; he had seen it before when Stephen's body looked like he had fallen asleep meditating. But he had never caught a glimpse of the sorcerer’s astral ghost version.

“Mreewp.” [“You know that’s called cheating.”]

Ghost-Stephen looked up, surprised, when he saw that Tony was addressing him. “You can see me?”

“Mroow.” [“I’m looking at you, ain’t I?”]

“Huh.” Stephen put his book down and floated over to the feline. “That’s interesting. We assumed cats to be able to perceive several planes, but we never had proof.”

“Groow mrem.” [“That’s great for you. Can we go back and focus on the problem at hand: getting me back?”]

“Yes, pardon.”

“Thank you, I-…” Tony stopped mid-sentence, staring at Stephen in that weird non-blinking way. “You understand what I’m saying?”

Stephen paused as well, realizing that – yes, he did. “It appears so. It must be because I’m currently in the astral dimension.”

“You mean ghost town?” Unimpressed, Tony jumped onto the floor and then walked over to the table with the books. There he first got on the chair and then onto the table. Truth be told, he was relieved to finally have a normal conversation. One where both sides knew what the other said.

“You’re still cheating on the taking a break part,” he remarked.

“Are you complaining I’m trying to find a solution to your problem?” Stephen floats around the table. He reached out to pet Tony and the cat leaned in the surprisingly solid touch.

“I didn’t say that,” he murmured. “Just pointing out a fact.”

“Mhm.” The sorcerer didn’t sound convinced. He continued to give back scratches all the way to that sweet spot right before the tail.

The cat got low but stretched his butt upwards. Purring louder than ever, he then flopped onto the side and was about to stick his belly out at Stephen when he realized what he was doing. Scowling, he pulled himself back up, ignoring Stephen's smug smile.

“That’s definitely some kind of cheating.”

“We had a lot of cats on the farm I grew up on.”

Stephen rarely talked about his childhood. Tony mostly knew the basics. Therefore he absorbed these kinds of snippets of information, adding them together like a big puzzle. There were still many gaps.

“More volunteers for your Hogwarts transmutation class?” He tried to dig deeper.

Stephen was quick to correct him. “You did not transmute. You shapeshifted.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Everything but the result. It’s a completely different course of action. You see, with shapeshifting a person shifts into a different living being. In most cases into a different species; although not always. While during a transmutation it changes the substance – regardless if it’s a living being or a objec-…” Stephen paused. His face told Tony an idea had struck him.

And he was right.

“Metamorphosis… I haven’t thought about metamorphosis. Normally, it wouldn’t be relevant, but since the source of magic lies in a relic, it’s actually quite possible.” He floated over to the shelves, looking for a specific book.

Tony stayed on the table, watching him. “Do you know how to reverse it?”

“Oh yes, it’s rather easy – if you know what you’re looking for. Ah, there it is…” Stephen thumbed through the book until he found what he was looking for. "Metamorphosis explains how you were able to have such good control over your new form straight away. Without any familiarization phase. And why there are some striking matching features between your forms.” Especially the facial hair and eye color.

Stephen returned to the desk.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I was ready five hours ago.”

Stephen’s face fell, sobered up, and the guilt was back. He mumbled another apology.

Tony felt awful for mentioning it; being a cat hadn’t been that bad. Even if it hadn't been voluntary.

Ghost-Stephen disappeared into thin air and a second later human-Stephen stood up. Some magic was safer to perform when he was on this plane.

He stepped to the cat, who was waiting for yet another attempt. Only this time, he actually felt something.

The magic wrapping around him was bright and he had to close his eyes for a second. It felt like he was stretching after sitting in the same pose for a long time. His joints were cracking like he had slept uncomfortably.

It didn’t hurt, rather it felt right.

Then it was gone and Tony opened his eyes. He was still sitting on the table, but now as a human again. The air suddenly felt more chilly.

Oh yeah, his clothes were still on the couch.

And Tony was naked as on the day he was born.

He noticed the dark blush spreading on Stephen’s face. They hadn’t reached that stage of their relationship yet, but Tony didn’t mind showing off. Plus, it was nice to know that his body still got that kind of reaction.

Stephen realized he was staring and cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “You should…” He trailed off, vaguely gesturing towards the pile of clothes.

Tony slid off the table. “Don’t play coy. This is what you get.”

His words made Stephen blush even more. Tony hadn’t taken his partner to be this shy. Somehow it was endearing.

He grabbed his pants. “Well, it’s good to be back.” He pulled his pants over his butt, when suddenly there was something in the way. Confused, he turned his head – and found a cat tail attached to him. Human-sized, very fluffy and in black and brown.

It twitched, nervously.

“Stephen…” He looked at the sorcerer, demanding answers.

“There might have been a slight mishap.” Stephen’s voice was hoarse and not in the slightest apologetic. He was back to watching Tony. Watching the top of his head in particular, Tony noticed.

With one hand still holding his pants in place, Tony reached up. He flinched when he touched fluffy ears. Feline ears.

Stephen licked his lips. He wasn’t blushing because he was shy. It was because he was very much turned on by the unexpected turn of events. But he didn’t dare to say anything since he wasn’t sure how Tony would react to yet another magic-caused alteration.

Only when he heard a chuckle escaping Tony’s lips, did the tension leave him.

Tony found the situation absurd. He had had a long day and honestly, he was just glad to have his thumbs back. “I hope you have some alternative clothes for me. Otherwise, I have to go naked from the waist down and possibly traumatize Wong for life.”

___________

Tony's secret code to identify himself to Jarvis: -y0u kn0w wh0 1 am-

#IronStrange #Tony Stark #Cat Tony Stark #Stephen Strange #Doctor Strange #marvel #mcu #strangeiron #stephen strange x tony stark #cat for a day

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foxgirlpuddle · 1 year ago

Text

Hmm

Revised intro post thingy

Hello Tumblr! I'm Thera!~

I'm a 19 year old transfem polyamorous lesbian disaster that currently has 3 girlfriend/wives and they're all fucking amazing and despite not being with any of them for a super long period of time we cannot currently envision an even remotely happy existence without them!

My hobbies include video games, random crappy stuff on the internet, reading fantasy stuff, and chatting with cool entities online(and also being horny as all bleeding hells online)!

If I had the option between a button that instantly turned me into a girl and one that gave me freeform shapeshifting to my own overpowered desired specifications I'd pick the latter and then start with the basis of normal human girl and then slowly mutate into an eldritch monstrosity that's nonetheless cute and cuddly(the tendrils are for cuddles and lewd stuff too admittedly) and feminine!

Shapeshifting eldritch monstrosity is gender

So is soft cute foxgirl

Anyways! I'm rambling!

Words o words where art thou words!~

I'm loaded with social anxiety and stuff but i do like making new friends!

Feel free to DM me if you want, I'm bad at conversations alot of the time but I'll try!

I still don't comprehend alot of Tumblr but i have a slightly better comprehension now

This blog has 0 theme to it, i look at whatever and reblog random stuff i like

Be warned that I'm a very horny individual and my blog will reflect that

Also

Bigots and the like begone from this place, your foul ilk are not welcome here!~

Welp that's my 2nd version of a self introduction post, slightly better than the first I think?

Hello to whoever reads this!

We wish a nice day upon any who read this~

Edited in addition

Our brain spontaneously split us into 2 heavily blended together cognizant entities that are almost always both present in some capacity if we aren't currently so blended together as to not bother distinguishing (this is surprisingly not actually that common) or if one of us is too focused for there to be spare mental energy to have the other present

A subby cuddly foxgirl

And a Dominant Dragon Anthro who just loves reducing cute girls into molten puddles~

I swear Dragon can't go 10 minutes of interaction without trying to tease someone 🤭

This is a weird but fun thing going on with our brain

Anyways uh

Yeah

That's that

Bye everyone!

We hope you all have nice times!

Even the assholes out there!

Though we hope they learn and grow as individuals

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thatndginger · 1 year ago

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Hi! :D Shapeshifting is so cool, can you tell me more about how it works in your wip?

Can I tell you more about the concept that’s been haunting my every waking moment (and some dreams) for like 8 years? Absolutely! It goes under the cut, though, because I can’t possibly be normal or concise about this lol

Broadly, shapeshifters are split into two categories: human-orgin and animal-origin. Human-origin shapeshifters are those like werewolves, were-animals, naguals, or erichtu. Animal-origin shapeshifters are those like selkies, huli jings/kitsune, or swan-wives. They all operate on the same ‘rules’, but can go by various names depending on culture or region. I use ‘shapeshifter’ as a catch-all, but in-universe they can be called all manner of things. In the scientific community, the term ‘metamorph’ is used in relation to shapeshifters.

Animal-origin shapeshifters are much more rare than human-origins, and tend to shy away from human settlements and societies. All shapeshifters have been vilified at some point, but animal-origins tend to be seen as more savage and strange, because they can only pretend to be human. On the flip side human-origins are seen as sneaky and unpredictable because of their animalistic traits and instincts

The magic behind shapeshifter is very poorly understood, in large part due to laws about human experimentation, and as such there is a lot of misinformation about it. One of the few things most scholars can agree on is that each shapeshifter is only capable of transforming into one animal species. Stories of a single shifter holding multiple forms are baseless stories. Within human-origin shapeshifters there is a further split between ‘born’ and ‘turned’ metamorphs. Born metamorphs are, obviously, born from shapeshifter parents, and thus inherit their genetic magical markers. Turned shapeshifters have been bitten by a shifter and undergone a painful, dangerous transformation. There isn’t a hard-and-fast rule about born shapeshifters inheriting their parents' animal forms - ie a werewolf having a werewolf child - but there is a much higher probability if both parents have the same animal form. There have been stories of some shapeshifters spontaneously presenting as such even if both parents are normal humans, but that is usually chocked up to latent genetics that have been triggered by exposure to specific magical influences.

Most human-origin shifters have an animal form that is some sort of predator species. It’s been theorized that this is due to whatever magic creates shapeshifters leaning towards an ‘evolutionary advantage’ and thus selecting for strength, ferocity, or some other trait that is predominantly seen in predator species. Still, there are enough accounts of shifters with non-predator forms that no one can claim all shifters have a predator form.

In terms of how shifters change their forms, this is something that falls under the “we can guess, but we can’t know for sure” category. It’s known that shifting is a general painful process, and requires a great deal of energy from the shapeshifter. Frequent repetition can ease the pain, and make it easier for a metamorph to ‘trigger’ their transformation process, but nothing can be done to circumvent the energy cost of changing one’s entire physical makeup. There has been a great deal of discussion about the fact that whatever articles of clothing or accessories a shifter may have been wearing in human form ‘disappear’ when they shift, only to ‘reappear’ when the shifter returns to human form, but no one can say for sure. A phone that ‘disappears’ will cease to function entirely, as well as any technology that could be used to trace where these items go.

The last note I will hit on is that there is no consensus of how much control a metamorph has over their transformation. Some assert that a shifter has perfect control, while others say the shifter has no control at all. The generally accepted theory is that control is a sliding scale, or bell curve. Some metamorphs have more control than others, while some have less. Most shifters exist somewhere in the middle, where they can trigger their transformations at will, but may also have their transformations triggered via intense emotions or unconscious responses to certain stimuli.

#wip: shapeshifter #why did I write this like I'm writing a research paper?#k's past as a Good Student shows up randomly and in weird ways

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sevenciircles · 2 years ago

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some lilith headcanons/facts before i officially add her

around other people, she's very formal and reserved. she is a dominant figure, intimidating, and completely in control of her emotions. she's very seductive and almost kind of a tease. she's elegant.

however around lucifer the two are lovey dovey/ultimate cheesey lovers. she's making puns, pulling him into spontaneous dances, and overall being a lot more cheerful. she's still elegant and refined, but not as emotionless/proper as she presents herself to the public.

lilith is a very supportive mother. she adores charlie with all her heart. that's her little blossom. she's very protective of her. however, she also is a busy queen of Hell in addition to her singing/cabaret career. so she can't exactly spend all the time in the world with her, as much as she'd like to.

treats her friends very well, she's a good friend. her icy persona melts somewhat, not to extent of her around lucifer, but it does.

is a huge, huge, huge switch.

a fan of musicals, of course.

can and will try and distract lucifer from work with teases.

she's incredibly powerful, don't test her. she likes using her wiles/wits to overcome things, but if someone forces her hand...oh well.

has some form of pity towards the sinners. she knows what it was like, if many, many eons ago. not enough to do anything, but enough to lament and support charlie's idea.

speaking of charlie's idea, she supports it on the down low. She has an eternal grudge against heaven, but the hotel makes her daughter happy so why not?

the second most powerful being in Hell behind Lucifer.

ADORES Vaggie. She will try and arrange one on one tea dates or lunches so she can get to know her future daughter in law. lilith loves her attitude, and trusts her enough to keep charlie safe.

cannot stand the exterminations. if only because she has to see Adam.

she can shapeshift and change her appearance beyond the typical demon form transformation.

LOVES TO DANCE AND SING

always seen in heels in public.

#i have died every day waiting for you ~ lilith #pineapple pipes ~ ooc

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schrodingersauthorii · 4 years ago

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In honor of Salvage Ch. 18, I have prepared the first chapter of my Phoenix Salvage AU. @muffinlance , there’s one scene that’s 100% an improvement in my overall writing structure I pulled from you, and I bet NOBODY can tell which one it is.

—————————

The young soldier must have somehow heard the blade coming. He didn’t have time to cry out, but the panic stains his face. Not quite the easy death Hakoda wanted, but unavoidable, and still far kinder than leaving him to the sea.

Two years of fighting had left many too-young Fire Nation soldiers dead on this deck, but this was different than a battle. Different even than a mercy kill, back when they thought maybe Fire Nation prisoners would simply accept a fate other than death.

The soldier wouldn’t have left them any choice in the end. But he hadn’t forced their hands. Not yet.

One of the men murmured a prayer, a simple benediction for the journey to the next life. This wasn’t the clean up after a battle, and there might not Fire elders speaking rites for the kid somewhere across the sea. The soldier might only have what they give him, and they're pragmatic people- not cruel.

The Fire Nation burns their dead. That would be kindest, but if they could safely build a pyre, then they could have safely kept a firebending prisoner. The young soldier have a sea burial.

The corpse vetoed this. Violently.

Akake and Tuluk yelped, dropping the suddenly burning body onto the wooden deck.

Fire shouldn’t be green and purple, Hakoda barely had to think, and the fire disappeared. He blinked the sparks out of his eyes, and the deck was as clear. No fire, purple-green or otherwise. Just a vaguely soldier shaped mound of ash.

Hakoda reached down to touch it: barely warm, and not so much as a soot mark beneath it.

Something stirred. Something tiny. Hakoda grabbed it without giving himself time to think about it. Whatever it was squirmed frantically in his hand.

Hakoda looked down, expecting- something. A still beating heart, perhaps. A reptile or worm, at the very least. Something repulsive and macabre. But a tiny, down-feathered bird trembled in his hand. He brushed ash off of soft, orange wings. Even filthy, the fledgling glowed like sunrise.

“It’s a bird,” Hakoda said, dumbfounded.

“A bird,” Tuluk repeated.

The bird cheeped in distress. Hakoda started to pet it, but it nearly fell to the deck in its effort to escape his hand. He quickly cupped it with both hands instead. The bird pecked at his fingers.

The entire deck stared in stunned silence. What were they supposed to do with a bird?

————————

Tolko presented a box hastily stuffed with hay from the albatross-pidgeon coop. Hakoda carefully dropped the chick inside. It burrowed down into the loose “nest,” still cheeping incessantly.

“He’s so cute,” Tolko gasped. “What are we going to do with him?”

Tolko stared at the bird with love already in his eyes. The bird stared back with… suspicion. At the very least.

Hakoda’s temples begun a warning throb.

“Ask Kustaa if he can… find anything,” he finally said.

Tolko cooed at the bird as he walked away.

Hakoda felt a dreadful portent hum in his bones: this would not end well, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

------

“What is that?” Kustaa asked.

“A bird,” Tolko said. And held the chick up to Kustaa’s face, as if not seeing the puffball was the problem.

“Which might also be a Fire Nation soldier. The Chief wants to know if you can find anything.”

“A soldier.”

“Yeah. He was drifting past, we fished him out, but he was. You know. A Fire Nation soldier. And he said he was a firebender. So.”

“So what?”

“He kind of...died. And spontaneously combusted. The bird was in the ashes. See?”

Tolko brushed the bird’s head and held up a sooty finger. The chick couldn’t really floof in anger- it was already at maximum floof- but it gave its best impression of outrage anyway. Tolko hastily placed it on the table before it could tumble out of his hand.

“This is a bird,” Kustaa said. “I’m a healer, not an ornithologist. Or a shaman. All I’m qualified to say whether or not YOU have brain rot.”

“Umm…” Tolko mumbled.

“Any headaches? Blurred vision? Acute pain in your arms or legs? Motor difficulties?” Kustaa asked as he prodded Tolko’s arms.

“No?”

“Then we’ll work with the assumption that Spirits were involved, not Swamp Fever. Hopefully, a minor Spirit.”

Kustaa leaned down in front of the bird.

“Can you understand us: peck two times, then three.”

Low and behold, the bird did… then stared at them and pecked a deliberate pattern of some sort.

“I don’t understand that,” Kustaa said.

A storm of outraged peeping.

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Are you a Spirit, one peck for yes, two pecks for no.”

Two pecks, and more outraged peeping.

“...Are you a bird?”

In hindsight, it was incredibly bold of them to assume Zuko knew more than they did about anything.

--------

Tuluk entered Hakoda’s office after a single knock, and Hakoda’s temples immediately resumed pounding.

“Apparently, the bird insists he is the soldier, and NOT a Spirit,” Tuluk said.

Hakoda pinched the bridge of his nose. And resolved to make an offering soon. There were stories about shapeshifting Spirits who forgot they weren’t human.

“Keep an eye on him,” Hakoda said. “We’ll head to the nearest port and find an Earth Sage. This is exactly the kind of trouble we don’t need.”

Tuluk nodded grimly.

A thought struck Hakoda. “How did…?”

Tuluk sighed. “Lots of questions. Lots of patience. Kustaa is positively charmed with the little menace.”

“He’s a bird.”

“A mean one,” Tuluk agreed. “But he’s warmed to Kustaa and Tolko, for stars knows why.”

Hakoda didn’t like the idea of a Spirit getting… attached to his crew, but he liked the idea of an upset Spirit on his ship even less.

“Keep an eye on them, please,” Hakoda said.

Tuluk nodded, understanding in his eyes.

“I’ll do my best, but that’s a conversation you need to have with Kustaa and Tolko. Probably the rest of the crew, too.”

Hakoda’s headache sharpened with knife-like intensity. Tuluk eyed him with concern.

“Chief. Nobody will blame you if you need a drink before that. Kustaa’s almost ordered a shipwide medicinal order.”

Hakoda sighed.

“After,” he promised. And didn’t clarify after what.

—————————-

Their youngest crewman tucked the surly creature into his parka, from where it eyed everyone and everything with deep suspicion. Tolko kept up a mostly one-sided commentary, which the soldier-bird seemed surprisingly engaged with.

“Do you know his name?” Punuk asked as Tolko showed the bird their snack break offerings.

“No,” Tolko said through a mouthful of salted fish. “It’s the character for ‘righteous rule,’ but we couldn’t figure out the pronunciation. So Birdie it is.”

“Birdie” cheeped aggressively enough to attract the other crewmen’s attention for the first time in hours. There was still work to be done, and his constant noise quickly faded into the background.

“That’s terrible. How about… Sparky? Ember?”

“Blaze.”

“Inferno.”

“Red.”

“You can’t call him red, he’s pink.”

“He’s definitely more orange than pink.”

“Orange still isn’t red.”

Ragnalok tossed an empty water skin at the pair.

“Stop torturing the poor guy. He already died once today.”

The trio went quiet.

“Way too soon, man,” Panuk said.

Birdie was… worryingly quiet for several hours after that.

-------

Tolko roused in the middle of the night, awakened by a faint stirring of downy feathers and soft cooing. Birdy was awake. Tolko couldn’t see it, but dawn must be on the horizon.

Birds liked dawn. So did firebenders, presumably. It was early, but Tolko wasn’t tired-tired, so…

Tolko scooped Birdy up in one hand and slid out of his hammock. “We’ll go top deck,” he whispered as he tucked Birdy into his collar.

Birdy cheeped in a maybe grumpy, maybe affirmative way. But it was soft, so Tolko didn’t think he was upset. Birdy was very, very good at communicating when he was upset, bird or not.

It still seemed uncharacteristic. And Birdy was slumping on Tolko’s shoulder in a way he hadn’t yesterday.

Tolko scooped Birdy back into his hand, and Birdy just… cheeped quietly. Cheeped once and fell silent.

Okay. It was early: Birdy might just be tired. It was a Thing, that birds got sleepy when it was dark- even if it wasn’t actually night. They’d go topdeck and watch the sunrise, and if Birdie still seemed off he’d come back and wake Kustaa.

Tolko climbed the last stair just as the sun broke free of the horizon. Birdie chirped softly again, and Tolko held him out into the light.

“It’s beautiful,” Tolko said.

And Birdie once again caught fire on the Spirits damned deck.

#avatar the last airbender #fanfic #phoenix salvage

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lilchibi-chan · 4 years ago

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hey hon. dorky request but... may i ask for bakugou headcanons of him and a gf who can change to and from a wolf?

Of course!! I love this idea and I don’t find it dorky at all 🌸

Bakugou x Shapeshifting GF

In a world full of quirks, at first glance, you look like you’re part of the very little population that doesn’t possess one, but in reality, you can turn into a beautiful and very powerful wolf.

Sometimes your power can get out of control with your emotions and different parts of your body will change or you just go full on wolf. This sometimes makes you think you may be hard to love, but Bakugou assures and reassures that there is nothing wrong with you and you’re allowed to feel how you feel. He also thinks it’s quite cute if you spontaneously pop a tail or furry ears come out or your hands turn into paws.

Today, you have to present oral essays in front of class and you were completely nervous. Stomach tied in knots, sweaty palms, the whole nine yards.

Public speaking wasn’t your strong suit and something you always dreaded, but Bakugou always got you through it.

Once you got in front of the class, you faced the blackboard and took a deep breath. You turn around again, so that you can start reciting your essay. You look for Bakugou and try to keep your eyes on him, just like he always told you to whenever you were nervous.

You start reading and it’s going great. Your nerves fade faster and faster and you feel like you actually won’t choke on your words for once.

You look back down at your paper to look at and memorize the next paragraph and once you look back up, you lose Bakugou in the crowd.

It was like he vanished out of nowhere.

You try not to panic, but no dice.

You keep your eyes on your paper and try to keep your emotions at bay, but you soon feel wolf ears pop.

You hear a couple giggles in the crowd which only makes things worse.

Your hands get sweaty and your voice starts to shake.

Bakugou watches as your nerves take over and he tries to think of a way to help you.

He gets up out of his seat and starts making his way to the front of the classroom, determined to get to you.

“Bakugou, please take your seat,” you hear Mr. Aizawa say

“No,” he says causing Aizawa to stand up from his seat

“Bakugou, I won’t say it again,” he says starting to power up

“And I told you no, she needs me and she’s gonna finish reading this essay whether I’m in front of her, beside her, whatever”

Bakugou’s words cause you to blush and you gain enough confidence back to finish your essay.

You’re about to start when Bakugou cups your face.

“Just focus on me,” he says looking into your eyes and then kisses your forehead

He turns to the desk behind him in the very front of the classroom

“Move it losers or I’ll blast you into next week!” he says to the two people who were sitting at the desk.

They both move reluctantly, annoyed at Bakugou’s temper.

He sits down, arms crossed and feet on the table with a pleased smile on his face.

You finish reading your essay aloud.

“Thank you Y/N” Aizawa says after you finish,“you may take your seat and Bakugou go back to your seat as well”

“Thank you, Mr. Aizawa,” you say bowing and then walking back to your seat with Bakugou

You both sit down and the next student gets up to present.

“Thank you, Katsuki,” you whisper and then kiss him on the cheek

“Yeah it was nothin,” he says with a cocky smile, causing you to laugh

“Look, I’m always gonna be there when you need me, so don’t worry about it alright,” he whispers

You softly smile and pay attention to the person in front of the class.

I hope enjoyed this and I’m so sorry about it being late 🥺

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero headcanons #my hero headcanons #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou headcanons #bakugou headcanons #katsuki bakugou fluff #bakugou fluff #katsuki Bakugou comfort #bakugou comfort #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou simp #come get yall juice

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maxwell-grant · 4 years ago

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So that ask about a Doc Savage/The Shadow crossover (which as an aside, I agree that Doc is probably the worst of the archetype he is functionally the Ur-Example of that isn’t an intentional deconstruction focusing on his worst eugenicist/borderline-fascist aspects to create a villain) has me thinking: what exactly would be the boundaries for a good, well-written crossover between the Shadow and different genres or eras of what we all collectively call pulp? Could someone do a crossover between the Shadow and Indiana Jones that didn’t rely on one or the other being little more than a glorified cameo in a small portion of what was essentially the other’s story, or reducing the former to his lamest two-dimensional “gun-toting homicidal maniac” interpretations? Could the Shadow ever functionally exist in a universe shared with a space opera setting like the Lensman series? It seems like one could theoretically do a crossover between the Shadow and a character of the same era like Nero Wolfe or Sam Spade, but would it strain credulity to attempt it with characters from an updated form of the private detective archetype like Thomas Magnum’s Hawaiian noir or Rick Deckard’s cyberpunk dystopia? Obviously not expecting answers to each of these hypotheticals specifically, just as examples of the kind of thing I’m wondering now.

I will be going through some of your hypotheticals though, you clearly gave a lot of thought to this and it's only fair I respond in turn. I am always eager to respond anyone who wants to ask specifics about writing The Shadow, because much of what I strive to do through this blog is to just inform people about the many, many things that made The Shadow great, the things that have been neglected, and to provide paths anyone who wishes to write the character may take. I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to write The Shadow someday, but the least I can do is spread knowledge as I work my way there. I'd like to think I've done allright so far.

It's a fairly big question though so we're gonna through it by pieces...

...not THAT way

what exactly would be the boundaries for a good, well-written crossover between the Shadow and different genres or eras of what we all collectively call pulp?

Part of the reason why I did a post yesterday on The Shadow's influences is because looking at them, looking at a character's influences and history, I think are always essential to the prospect of tackling them. And in that regard, The Shadow doesn't actually have much, if any, boundaries stopping him from crossing over with just about anything. The most that's stopping the pulp heroes currently is, besides legal issues, their time periods and obscurity, but The Shadow is the most famous of them all, and a lot of stories have already worked with the idea that he's immortal (which I have my misgivings with, but for better or worse is clearly not going anywhere, and it's not a unworkable concept).

Right from the start, The Shadow was designed to be a long-running, versatile character that could partake in whatever adventures they felt like telling, and part of this is due not just to an incredibly strong personality not afforded to most pulp heroes or characters in general, even those who tried imitating him, but also the fact that he often takes a narrative backseat to the agents and proxy heroes, which means he doesn't have to carry a narrative by his own (and is in fact best suited not to), can blend in to just about anyone's story, and still stand out and be the center of sprawling mysteries. Actually, I'm gonna let Walter Gibson answer this one for you:

While his major missions were to stamp out mobs or smash spy rings, he often tabled such routines in order to find a missing heir, uncover buried treasure, banish a ghost from a haunted house or oust a dictator from a mythical republic.

There was no limitation to the story themes as long as they came within the standards of credibility--which proved easy, since The Shadow was such an incredible character in his own right that almost anything he encountered was accepted by his ardent followers.

Widespread surveys taken while the magazine was appearing monthly showed that a large majority of newsstands sold nearly all their copies within the first two weeks of issue. While other character magazines might show an early flurry, their sales were either spread evenly over the entire period or gained their impetus about the middle of the mouth and sometimes not until the third or even the fourth week.

From the writing standpoint, this made it advisable to adhere more closely to the Cranston guise and to emphasize the parts played by The Shadow's well-established agents, since regular readers evidently liked them. Also, it meant "keeping ahead" of those regulars, with new surprises, double twists in "whodunit" plots, and most exacting of all a succession of villains who necessarily grew mightier and more monstrous as The Shadow disposed of their predecessors.

Always, his traits and purposes were defined through the observations and reactions of persons with whom he came in contact, which meant that the reader formed his opinion from theirs.

This gave The Shadow a marked advantage over mystery characters forced to maintain fixed patterns and made it easy to write about him. There was never need for lengthy debate regarding what The Shadow should do next, or what course he should follow to keep in character. He could meet any exigency on the spur of the moment, and if he suddenly acted in a manner opposed to his usual custom, it could always be explained later.

The Shadow’s very versatility opened a vast vista of story prospects from the start of the series onward. In the earlier stories, he was described as a “phantom,” an “avenger,”, and a “superman,” so he could play any such parts and still be quite in character. In fact, all three of those terms were borrowed by other writers to serve as titles for other characters.

Almost any situation involving crime could be adapted to The Shadow’s purposes

The final rule was this: put The Shadow anywhere, in any locale, among friends or associates, even in a place of absolute security, and almost immediately crime, menace or mystery would begin to swirl about him, either threatening him personally or gathering him in its vortex to carry him off to fields where antagonists awaited.

That was his forte throughout all his adventures. Always, his escapes were worked out beforehand, so that they would never exceed the bounds of plausibility when detailed in narrative form. And that was the great secret of The Shadow.”

In some regards, The Shadow is a mirror. He presents himself to people the way that's best suited to them, the way they'd like him to be, the way he needs to be to affect them. They want money, he has it. They want honor, glory and purpose, he gives them that. They want to fight and turn around social systems for the better, he funds their dreams. Gangsters want the underworld's greatest hitman on their side, he becomes that and lets it be their doom. The story calls for a rich aristocrat who can rub elbows with politicians and kings and presidents, he can do that as long as it suits him. Kent Allard can be a world famous celebrity in one story and a disfigured, broke and faceless nobody in the next. You want a kind janitor with unexpected fighting skill to spy on police and assist the homeless, he has a little someone named Fritz for the occasion. You want an evil monster to be defeated, bring out Ying Ko. Hell, James Patterson's upcoming Shadow novel, which by all reviews seems to be pretty lousy, apparently features The Shadow transforming into a cat. Why? Screw you, that's why! But you'd never see James Bond or Batman spontaneously transforming into a cat without outside interference. He's The Shadow, he's got a face for everything.

(Okay to be clear I don't actually want the Shadow to literally transform into animals, at least not without a good explanation which the book clearly doesn't provide, but I do think it illustrates my point about how generally weird he is)

He is a shapeshifter who can be just about any character in any given narrative who only reveals himself when it's time to materialize into a cloaked terror or a familiar face (whether it's Cranston or Allard or Arnaud and so on). War stories, romance stories, sci-fi stories, globetrotting stories, parody stories, he's done all of them and then some. He doesn't need to be the protagonist of a story, he doesn't need to be invincible, and he doesn't really have any set rules regarding powerset. Gibson stressed credibility a lot, but for over 70 years now, that's clearly gone by the window of the character's writing. By design, he was always meant to be able to smoothly integrate into any existing narrative. Frankly, the only thing that's really holding him back (or saving him, depending on how you look at it) is the fact that he's not public domain (yet).

I think for a start, it's not so much boundaries, because in make believe land boundaries are just things to be overcome on the way to telling a story, so much as it's a good working knowledge of the character and of how far you are willing to stretch your storytelling limitations to include him, because he can account for just about all of them. Now, obviously there's stuff that works for the character better than others, a lot of Shadow fans don't like it when they take the character too much into fantasy, there's debates on how superpowered should he be if at all, and so forth. I have my own preferences, but one of the bigger tests of long-running characters is how can they succeed and thrive when placed outside of their element, and The Shadow can do that.

Could someone do a crossover between the Shadow and Indiana Jones that didn’t rely on one or the other being little more than a glorified cameo in a small portion of what was essentially the other’s story, or reducing the former to his lamest two-dimensional “gun-toting homicidal maniac” interpretations?

would it strain credulity to attempt it with characters from an updated form of the private detective archetype like Thomas Magnum’s Hawaiian noir

Well regarding the first question, the latter portion I think is very easy to do. Just, don't write him like that. Just be aware of why that's a mischaracterization, why the character doesn't need that to work, why he works better without it, and so on. It shouldn't be that hard.

Regarding Indiana Jones and Thomas Magnum, I think these two actually lend themselves very easily to crossovers with The Shadow. On Indy's case, he already is a Pulp Hero operating in the same time period, who's got a heavily contrasting niche and personality to build a fun dynamic around. Indy is more story-driven, in the sense that the Indiana Jones moves are all centered around his experiences and point of view and growth as a person, compared to The Shadow's stories, which are not really about "his" story as much as they are about the stories of the people he comes in contact with. Indy is a blockbuster superstar while The Shadow lurks and slithers through the edges and cracks of a story until it's time to strike. But if anything that just makes even more of a case as to why they could team up without issue, since there's a further built-in complimentary contrast to work with.

I have never watched Magnum P.I so there's definitely stuff I might be missing, but looking him up, past the necessary explanation as to why The Shadow's hanging around the 80s, it wouldn't strain credulity at all for the two to team up. The Shadow has had Caribbean/beach-themed adventures and one unrecorded adventure in Honolulu, he has a beach bum secret identity called Portuguese Joe that he could use for this occasion, and Magnum seems like exactly the kind of character who could star as the proxy hero of a Shadow novel. He's lively and friendly and can look after himself, he has a job that leads him to trouble and puts him on contact with criminals as well as victims, he's got secrets and a dark past and a laundry list of character flaws, he's perfectly capable of carrying a story by himself but can be out of his depth in the schemes that he gets caught up in.

Could the Shadow ever functionally exist in a universe shared with a space opera setting like the Lensman series? Or Rick Deckard’s cyberpunk dystopia?

I'm going to tackle parts of this question more throughly when I answer one in my query that's asking me "How would you do The Shadow in modern day?", which I still haven't gotten around to answering because it's a tricky one. I won't go into the specifics for the two examples you listed because I've never read the Lensman books and googling about them hasn't helped much very much, and Deckard's a fairly standard P.I character mostly elevated by the movie he's in, there's not really much to discuss regarding him specifically interacting with The Shadow. The question you're asking me here seems to generally be: Could The Shadow functionally exist in settings so radically apart from the 30s Depression era he was made for?

My answer for this is a maybe leaning towards yes. Starting with the fact that the concept of The Shadow is more suited for allegorical fantasy along the lines of space operas and cyberpunk, than the gritty realism he's been saddled with for decades, which I'll get into another time. For some reason, a lot of people seem to harp on about how the Shadow's costume is impractical and unworkable for modern times, and said James Patterson novel mentioned above ditched it all together, which as you can guess was a massively unpopular decision. Matt Wagner talked once about how cities don't have shadows and men wearing hats anymore and that's part of why you can't have The Shadow in modern times (as if The Shadow was always supposed to be dressing like an average guy, and not cowboy Dracula). But nobody seems to have a problem with characters dressing up exactly like The Shadow showing up all the time in dystopian future cities with fashion senses where they stick out like a sore thumb (and really, they should stick out, otherwise what's the point of being all weird and dark and mysterious?)

Although The Shadow is specifically suited for urban settings, is conceptually rooted in 1930s America, and there are important facets of his characterization related to history like the Great War, there are not the be-all end-all of The Shadow. It's part of the character. Other parts integral to the character are, as mentioned above, the versatility and metamorphous nature he was always intended to have. His nature as a character who exists to thrive in narratives not about him and not centered around him. His roots on Dracula and King Arthur and Oz and Lupin which are concepts that have had so, so many drastical revisions and turnabouts that still stuck to the basic principles of the icon.

Besides, The Shadow's already been there. He's already been to space, he's already been in alternate dimensions, he's already reawakened in modern/future times several times now (when he doesn't just live to them unchanged). He's been a cyborg twice, and between those, El Sombra, Vendata, X-9, the Shadow-referencing robot henchmen from Bob Morane and Yu-Gi-Oh's Jinzo referencing the movie's bridge scene, it's enough to constitute a weird pattern of The Shadow and Shadow-adjacent characters turning into robots. Perhaps one positive side effect of The Shadow's decades-long submersion in fantasy is that it's opened the character for just about anything, and I think this could be a good thing if it was married to an adherence to the things that made him such a juggernaut of an icon in the 30s and 40s.

Really, The Shadow partially works on Predator rules. And by that I mean, the big secret of the Predator that filmmakers don't seem to get is that the best way to make a Predator film is to just put the Predator somewhere he's not supposed to be, and let that play out. Because the Predator is, by design, a trespasser who invades narratives and turns the power dynamics around, and that works for any narrative you put it into.

The first movie is all about setting you up for a jungle action movie with Schwarzenegger's Sexual Tyrannosaurus Crew as the biggest baddest death squad around, only for the Predator to appear, turn the tables on these shitheads and pick them off one by one until Arnie scrapes a victory by beating it at it's own game. The 2nd movie is about a drug war between cops and gangs in L.A, until the Predator shows up and suddenly he's the big problem again that's gotta be put down. All the other movies fail because they try to be "about" the Predator, but the Predator doesn't work that way. He's a ugly motherfucker who's here to fight and kill things in cool ways for the sake of it's warrior game, who already has a specific structure to how his story's meant to play out, and that's all he needs to be. What you do is just take that character, take the structure he carries around, and throw it somewhere that works by different rules, and let the contrast play out the story.

Obviously there's a lot more to The Shadow than this, I write a billion essays on the guy after all, but much of what makes The Shadow work, much of what made The Shadow such an icon at the decade of his debut and such an interesting character to revolve any kinds of stories around, was because of the great contrast he posed to everything surrounding him, and the ways he can both be at the forefront as well as the backseat of any story.

Going back to what Gibson said:

Almost any situation involving crime could be adapted to The Shadow’s purposes. He could meet any exigency on the spur of the moment, and if he suddenly acted in a manner opposed to his usual custom, it could always be explained later.

The Shadow was such an incredible character in his own right that almost anything he encountered was accepted by his ardent followers.

advisable to emphasize the parts played by The Shadow's well-established agents, since regular readers evidently liked them.

The keyword here isn't that the Shadow should be realistic, frankly that's always been a lost cause. He was never really that realistic, and it's unfair to expect writers to keep pace with Gibson who had lifelong experience with the in and outs of magic and daring escapes and whatnot. The keywords I want to stress here is "accepted by his ardent followers".

Make a good explanation, an explanation that fits the character, an explanation that works, and the rest will follow. And if you can't, make us like the character. Make us accept that he can do and be all these things. Give us something to be invested in. And if that can't be The Shadow himself because he has to stay at arms length constantly to be mysterious, Gibson cracked the code almost a century ago through the agents. Make us invested in them, and through them, we will become invested in The Shadow.

The pulp Shadow would get tired, get injured, need rescuing, need to stop and rest and catch his breath, would need to think and plan and make split decisions on the spot and sometimes would make the wrong ones only to reverse them in the nick of time, and it made the fact that he was achieving all these things all the more impressive. The pulp Shadow was a creature of fantasy grounded in the history of the world he was a part of.

If you can make people care about The Shadow, be truly, genuinely invested in him and his world and the people he comes in contact with, be as invested in those as audiences were back then, you can and maybe should put him anywhere, doing anything, as long as you know what you're doing. As long as you understand what makes The Shadow tick, what makes him work and what doesn't, and whatnot.

Which is a lot of words for "do whatever you want, just don't fuck it up"

#replies tag #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #the shadow #lamont cranston #kent allard #the predator #indiana jones #thomas magnum

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varsitycult · 4 years ago

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Shapeshifting: Solaris and True Alienation

In Stanislaw Lem’s 1961 novel of the same name, Solaris is an alien planet that “materializes physical simulacra”— any members aboard the space station slowly circling the planet will begin to have interactions with figures from their pasts, those figures that left the greatest impact on their psyches. The ocean itself manifests many forms that fall under different categorization, such as mimoids, symmetriads, etc., which arise mostly as singular architectural feats and ever-evolving foamy, stretchy-then-solid, growing-and-shrinking structures that can be many miles in dimension; those that study these phenomena are called solaricists. The study of Solaris developed from a more esoteric theorization of what the ocean actually “is”:

“For some time one popular view, eagerly disseminated by the press, was that the thinking ocean covering the whole of Solaris was a gigantic brain more advanced by millions of years than our own civilization, that it was some kind of “cosmic yogi,” a sage, omniscience incarnate, which had long ago grasped the futility of all action and for this reason was simply maintaining a categorical silence towards us.” (Lem)

This evolved into a decidedly scientific investigation of how Solaris ‘works,’but no matter how many studies were done and how much a desire for First Contact might’ve been present aboard, the ocean didn't attempt to reveal anything about itself — to the crew, it seemingly only sought to essentially conduct psychological experiments on them by creating “empty” doppelgängers of critical figures from their pasts who cannot die.

The book centers around Kris Kelvin, an at times neurotic, at times deeply detached psychologist. In his youth, he knew and was in a relationship with a young woman named Harey, who ultimately ended up killing herself after Kris ended their relationship and implied she was weak. Once Kris begins seeing, speaking and interacting with the simulacra of Harey, he questions his own sanity, and conducts experiments to prove to himself that he is sane — and when in the lab, realizes the other crew members have done the same. We never learn the details of the other crews simulacras beyond an interaction in the beginning of Kris’ stay, and fleeting glimpses of identifiers — but it is implied that they’re haunting enough to drive the crew to madness and suicide, such as in the case of Gibarian, a former professor of Kris’ and fellow crew member who committed suicide right before Kris arrived on the station.

Harey is Kris’ appointed simulacra, or shapeshifter, if you will. What is a shapeshifter? Basically an entity with the ability to change into a different shape or form; It can be the act of a human turning into an animal (commonly seen in creatures such as werewolves, vampires and the like); an animal shapeshifting into a person; a person into a plant or object; and on, including gods turning into clouds, gods turning other gods into any myriad of animals or objects, etc. Shapeshifting is key in shamanic practice and totemism, and entails transformation into a different f o r m, precipitated by an altered state of consciousness within the shaman, aided by substances, rhythmic driving, and the like:

“[S]hamanism and hypnosis … use … the same dissociative state of consciousness, which in shamanism is referred to as the shamanic journey, or ecstatic flight, and in hypnosis is called the hypnotic trance, or simply trance. Neurophysiological and empirical evidence support the view that the shamanic journey achieved without the use of hallucinogenic substances, that is, with the aid of musical instrumentation, chanting, and similar phenomena, elicits the same EEG profile as the hypnotic trance state. In addition, experiential phenomena characteristic of the shaman’s ecstatic flight, such as shapeshifting, contact with imaginal agents, and the like, can likewise be achieved in hypnotic trance” (Walter).

  For this entry, shapeshifting is one conscious entity shifting into another entity who is, by necessity, conscious to some degree. We find shapeshifters from stories that span the world and millennia — such as the character of Merlin from Arthurian Legend:

“In the Arthurian cycle, the wizard Merlin enchanted Uther Pendragon, making him look like the husband of Igraine so that she would gladly sleep with him. Merlin knew through augury that this mating would conceive the child who would later become King Arthur. One tool for accomplishing such shapeshifting was the spell known as fith-fath, used to transform one object into another and also to confer invisibility.” (472, Walter)

(I just really enjoy the word fith-fath)

In the Cherokee tradition, there’s the story of the “Stone Coat,” a monster covered with scaly armor from head to toe who could take human form; Stone Coat ate the livers of his victims while in the shape of an old woman, after puncturing their skulls with a crooked finger (136, Young). Stone Coat took the form of an orphan, who then ate other children’s livers, and was subsequently banned from town. Knowing Stone Coat is approaching, 7 menstruating women lay along the path in wait — he vomits blood crossing them, and, knowing he is dying, asks the people to build a fire and burn him. As he burned, he sang songs, songs that eventually became traditional Cherokee songs; “His death, he said, would unleash disease in the world, but the songs he taught them would cure it.”

In the case of Old Norse, with regards to Berserkers, shapeshifting more closely approximates a shared state of consciousness generated among animal cultists, leading to murder and rape under the influence of rage:

“It is proposed by some authors that the berserkers drew their power from the bear and were devoted to the bear cult, which was once widespread across the northern hemisphere … To "go berserk" was to "hamask", which translates as "change form", in this case, as with the sense "enter a state of wild fury.”

In Asia, the kitsune (🇯🇵), huli jing (🇨🇳), or kumiho (🇰🇷) are mythical foxes with 9 tails, that are at least 1,000-years old and have attained the boon of shapeshifting. These creatures are known for turning into young women who eat the hearts or livers of young men. In Korea, the kumiho is always malignant, while the Japanese and Chinese variants are morally ambiguous. Across cultures, if a kitsune can last 1,000 days without killing or eating a human, they can become fully human.

There are myriad reasons why Solaris is a unique shapeshifter experience, considering shapeshifting so often relies on either mythical entities with mythical powers, or altered states. With Solaris, we have an “entity” who can never be perceived directly, and we never learn how Solaris does what it does — Lem intentionally chose an ocean as to avoid personification and thus satisfaction of “First Contact.” Solaris creates an experience of True Alienation — because Solaris can “[see] into the deepest recesses of human minds and then [bring] their dreams to life,” but the observer knows that wish-fulfillment is impossible, making the experience of Solaris a deeply disturbing one which highlights the limits of our physical systems and of our human comprehension.

We never come to understand the intent of the manifestations that haunt the crew observing Solaris, though later in the book, Kris ventures out onto the planet itself for the first time ever, after Harey has finally died indefinitely of her own accord; This experience changes his perception of the planet itself, realizing it is actually slightly timid, if not a bit naive, observing and reacting to new information, interacting momentarily with Kris’ hand. In the absence of understanding, there was forgiveness of the planet itself, and the psychological torment endured by Kris and the simulacras.

Often, whether in literature about shamanic rituals or on galaxy-🧠 backwater forums, you will find discussion of shapeshifting paired with possession. Shapeshifting and possession are parallel phenomena, though possession is internal. Harey is both real and not real simultaneously; Harey knows she is and knows she isn’t; and Harey can never be far away from Kris, at least in the beginning. If Kris is not visible to Harey, she will enter a fugue state until she is reunited with Kris again, at times causing herself fatal physical harm to remove obstacles to him — this possession “reveals” Harey to truly be Solaris itself, her body receiving a hard reset via near-death experiences.

In the beginning of the novel, Harey has a truly amnesiac response to notions of “the past” — she quickly creates an excuse for her behavior or her origins whenever she materializes on the station. As time goes on, Harey noticeably becomes perturbed by her inability to know herself and comes to realize that she is not “Harey”at all. As opposed to following the natural progression of a developing consciousness, arguably going from tabula rasa “nothing” to “something,” Harey goes from believing she is “something” to knowing she is “nothing,” a figment created by the parsed memories of another living being, in a way mirroring terrestrial Harey’s timeline.

Solaris functions as the embodiment of what Rudolf Otto called the Mysterium Tremendum et Fascinans; the numinous, the unknown. Under electron microscope examination, blood samples from simulacras are devoid of electrons, instead being composed of neutrinos, and a specialized machine is ultimately needed to kill Harey at the end of the book because of this. Nothing like Solaris has ever been seen before, let alone conceived of by human minds, and when 106 members of the space station die in one freak accident while exploring a spontaneous formation on Solaris long before Kris ever arrives, humans subject it to nukes in “retaliation”. Humans had a stronger desire to destroy the unknown than to allow the unknown to exist at all. But Solaris was seemingly unscathed, and afterwards, public interest in Solaris waned, and the simulacras began to appear onboard the station.

What makes the unknown of Solaris more exaggerated is its observation, even experimentation, on the crew. It is always learning about You — You cannot learn about It. And we can never know if it is learning from its experimenting, if its experimenting is leading to something, some conclusion, at all. It becomes a true black mirror, reflecting back at the crew that which has psychically harmed or affected them the most to try to understand that hurt, because hurt sticks the most :’ ).

Very often in shapeshifter stories, the concluding action is to kill the shapeshifter because it is deemed malevolent. Shapeshifting is obscure, it is dark, and it is unknowable except to those shapeshifters with access to it. Shapeshifting physicalizes the Shadow, and conceptualizes the existential chicken-and-egg of knowing decay, death and rebirth are inevitable, just maybe not in the ways we’d hoped — bask in the Shadow and temper the compulsion to kill the darkness.

Bibliography:

Lem, Stanisław. “Solaris,” Walker, 1964.

Walter, Mariko, and Eva Jane Neumann. “Shamanism: An Encyclopedia of World Beliefs, Practices, and Culture,” ABC-CLIO, 2004.

Young, William A. “Quest for Harmony: Native American Spiritual Traditions,” Hackett Pub. Co., 2006.

& Wikipedia lul

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sanguinechaos · 4 years ago

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Okay finally Freyr has a reference. Okay half of a reference, theres a slightly more naked one half where you can actually see his tattoos in progress. Only took me like 90 million years.

Name Freyr, doesn't have a last name but his fake ID says Sinner. Age Indeterminate age. Probably around 3000 to 3500. Lost count after the first few centuries really. Height 6'5''/198cm normally/7'2''/219cm with peets/9'2''/280cm in full demon form. Gender/Pronouns Can shapeshift, but most commonly presents as cis male (he/him). Sexuality Anything as long as it has a pulse.

Profile

❖ You know, he's a bitch.

❖ Can use magic and quite skilled at it but not going to resort to it for problems a good old shotgun can fix. Prefers an AA-12 as far as models go.

❖ At least trying to make sure the universe doesn't blow up.

❖ Immortal and not very pleased with it. To clarify: has an absurdly high regenerative factor and can shrug off most wounds like it's nothing. Considerably more reckless because of it. While seemingly mortal wounds won't incapacitate him, they're not enjoyable. Also that shit's really not very fun in case you get tortured.

❖ Parts of his body that are severed from the "main mass", so to say, demonstrate the opposite effect, instead going trough rapid spontaneous degeneration. It's impossible to profile his blood type or DNA signature due to this, since his cells also spontaneously combust when removed. Someone once thought it would be easy to harvest organs from him ad infinitum since he just grows them back, but didn't take that into account. Can't drain his blood for transfusions either, all you're gonna get is the equivalent of contaminated plasma.

❖ His blood cells contain scintillions, which make his blood glow blue/cyan due to a luciferase-catalysed oxidation of luciferin. Since his cells decompose outside of his body, the blood loses it's bioluminescent properties and reverts back to a dark red after a short while.

❖ It's all fun and games until you have a brush with the inevitability of losing someone or something you love. Life is fleeting, everybody dies, and the older you get the more you understand that. It's why he prefers not to get attached to any one person or place, instead treating his life like an endless stream of strangers and indulging in seemingly playful nihilism. He WANTS things to matter to him, like they did in the past, so pushing people away is more of a defense mechanism than anything. Is love worth it if the loss of it will plague you for eternity? History is marred in the rise and fall of empires that thought they would last forever, and nothing is sacred to the sands of time. Sometimes all it takes is a couple hundred years, or even less, just one disaster, to come back to ruins of some place you might have once called home. Time is, unfortunately, an arrow, it might not fly by at the same speed everywhere, but it doesn't go backwards. You know can't go home. Because it's not there anymore.

❖ Pain is a temporary emotion but Doom is Eternal.

#freyr #oc #dino draws #absolute bitch of a man #happyfaec #he not only blep #but also slurp #demon #original character #referece sheet

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asocier · 4 years ago

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more angel lore: abilities edition ( part 1 of ? )

i dont think i’ve ever really talked about what angel leah can and can’t do as an angel, so here’s a post to fix that! i think something important to remember that while she’s an angel in this verse, leah’s far from op because she’s flawed, inexperienced, and kind of dumb jlasldkas so she’s not really the all-powerful being a lot of media make angels out to be. still, she has some abilities that make her stronger than a human ( but still far weaker than most other beings ):

object creation and manipulation: leah can will objects into creation from thin air and manipulate them ( e.g. moving a cup towards her so she doesn’t have to get up; snap her fingers and your laundry is folded ). sometimes object creation is unreliable if it’s a larger item, but small things are easy for her to create.

altering appearance: distinct from shapeshifting -- leah can’t change her physical form to be that of another being or thing, but what she can do is change her outward appearance at will. this includes cosmetic changes ( e.g. hair or eye color, eye shape, height, ect ) and spontaneous wardrobe changes.

flight: she purposely avoids showing off her wings on account of how much she dislikes them, but even without them visibly present, she possess the ability to float. with her wings, leah is able to fly to much greater heights and distances, which can help her travel to different locations on earth and between different realms.

healing: very unreliable, but possible. with enough focus, leah’s able to heal wounds, or, if they’re very severe, slow bleeding until proper first aid can be administered. not recommended to rely on her to save your life because she’s so inexperienced that there’s no telling how well her powers can work.

high tolerance: given how she’s not human, alcohol and drugs don’t affect her the same way as it would a person her size. they have little to no affect, actually, but she still chooses to have a drink now and then for the fun of social drinking. pain is something she can also tolerate fairly well, though it’s still unpleasant for her if it’s to a high and uncontrolled degree. still, physical pain does less damage to her than it would a human, so her limits extend much further than for a mortal.

immortality: of course, death does not affect an angel the same way as it would a human. that isn’t to say there’s no way to kill an angel, but it’s significantly more difficult to. death by the hand of an archangel as punishment is something leah is acutely aware of, especially since she knows her creation threatens what her superiors try so hard to uphold. her existence is at the hands her superiors, but it’s perhaps more likely that she falls from heaven than be obliterated from existence.

#( verse ) angel #( leah ) headcanon;

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xpeter-parkour · 4 years ago

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Lions & Spiders & Bears, Oh My!

Gods of New York // Peter Parker a.k.a. Spider-Man :: God of Animals

{Calling} Okay. This was a little ridiculous. Peter had always been an animal lover, but good God. Now the wallcrawler can't escape them. Alright, he'll admit, it's kinda nice having friends wherever he goes. But he really needs to learn how to stop accidentally petnapping those animals that already belong to someone…

{Animals Aura & Powers}

Animal attraction: Like Snow White or Giselle Peter can attract animals to him via song. Unlike Snow White or Giselle he currently has no control over this and just attracts animals to him 24/7.

Zoolingualism: Peter can talk to animals. He can do this both vocally or telepathically, sharing a mind link with any animal within his aura. The mind link extends outside of his aura with those animals he has a bond with. The mind link also lets him see through the eyes of animals, usually only within his aura, unless he shares a strong bond with them.

Knack with Animals: Animals tend to want to do what Peter wants them to do. He can't exert his will over an animal, but he'd have better luck talking an ornery animal into doing something than anyone else.

Animal Soul: Peter can shapeshift into animals. Though, this starts off as him waking up with/spontaneously acquiring random body parts from animals until he can get the hang of how to wilfully shift into an animal form of his choosing (he keeps his Spider enhancements while shapeshifted).

Healing Touch: Peter can heal animals. He does a much better job of it if he knows the animal's anatomy, so he's in the process of scouring libraries for animal anatomy books.

Pack Mentality: The more animals Peter is around the better he feels/stronger he is. Those animals he spends the most time with he will become influential, Peter taking on some of their predominant traits.

{Appearance} It varies as he usually has some random bit of animal on him somewhere (wings, paws, a tail, armour plating, etc). One consistent feature are the antlers that rise from his skull. The type of antlers change from day-to-day, but they are always present. His skin (when not mottled with various animal patterns) has gone a dark brown like damp soil and is streaked with verdant green. His godhood refuses to be denied, overwhelming the nanites of the Iron Spider leaving him some in between of Peter and Spider-Man, not quite either.

#bnyc gods #1100: gods of new york #Spider-Man; God of Animals

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book-of-curse · 4 years ago

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The Twin Peaks Guide to the Occult [3]

The Summoning of Spirits

Summoning is such a quintessential part of magick practice. This has been the case historically as well as currently. What is summoning? It is a particularly involved way of communicating with the self, and of picking and choosing aspects of our memory and personality that we then give animation to. We create a spirit within ourselves with these dimensions. The mind is incredible - particularly in its ability to model and to imagine. We are limited only by the boundaries of our imagination and memory.

Below is a method to summon entities. It is particularly easy to give animation to elements of our memory that we have a defined stereotype of. The characters of a show, people we know in person and have a long relationship with - drawing on our internal stereotypes of people we have a strong “sense” of is one of the easiest ways to develop an animate point of consciousness within our mind’s eye that can be talked to and influence our behavior in a way that feels abstracted from our main sense of self.

This can be used for many things. Gaining perspective. Modeling character interactions in a work of art - imagining and then modeling what will happen next in a story you are writing. The abstracted nature of these animate characters we can create in our mind lends themselves to spontaneous psychological effects and moments of inspiration - things that feel somewhat outside of our control. This adds variability to our thoughts. It’s also just a fun practice and it is interesting to play around with the mind and what it can do.

A Consideration of Character

The interactions between the various parties in Twin Peaks in addition to the general social context of the town serves as one of the main points of interest in this show. Twin Peaks presents a compelling and immersive community of characters. Understanding and analyzing their motivations is a good place to learn the general logic behind the idea of entity contact or summoning spirits.

For this summoning ritual, the only materials needed are your imagination and a quiet space. Enter your mental space that you set aside for considerations related to Twin Peaks and, perhaps, your studies of the occult more broadly. Model all of your senses in this space; attempt to immerse yourself as vividly as you can in your internal reality. This is now your entire reality; repeat this idea to yourself as you disavow information offered to you from your circumstances outside of your mind’s eye. Let go of daily life concerns, unpleasant physical sensations, and so on. All there is, is the internal world.

There are two main divisions in types of spirit work. Perceiving the other consciousness outside of yourself (evocation or summoning), and perceiving yourself as becoming this new consciousness (invocation or possession).

A third type involves hallucinating the other consciousness. A study of imposition (learning to consciously create hallucinations), which is outside of the scope of this post, can be used to provoke this third type. It is similar to the other two types but with a slightly different focus. A fourth type involves altered states such as dreams or the use of entheogens. A fifth type uses a ritual or other external cue. These latter three types are all different ways to obtain one of the former two types of entity experiences.

It is furthermore possible to integrate or transform the resulting abstracted consciousness into the self to change the self in the direction of that integrated consciousness. By being forced into direct contact with the consciousness as it integrates, the main self decides its own answer to the internal conflicts encountered by that consciousness.

External places and ideas have a type of consciousness to them, although it is experienced slightly different by the magick practitioner. This is likely due to the way the mind remembers information. It remembers information along certain axes. We have a division in our place vs. our person memory and the way we handle perception related to these two things.

Some people find it easier to shapeshift into a new consciousness. Other people find it easier to animate a consciousness that feels separate from themselves. Repeated attempts to access and animate the same concept/character increase the elaboration and complexity of the resulting spirit/animated and abstracted aspect of the self.

While in your internal space, visualize the character you wish to model. Imagine their appearance, their mannerisms. From there, it becomes a matter of modeling their mind. Focus on your internal stereotype of that person, focus on your sense of that other person, your feeling when you think of that person.

Route 1:

Draw your sense of that person into yourself. You become that person. Everything you do is checked between your logic vs. that other person’s. Everything in this trance state is done in the shape of that other person. All of your thoughts are this other person. After 10-15 minutes, more or less if you want, you can stop.

Route 2:

Imagine that other person separate from you, either in your mind’s eye or outside of yourself in your physical location. Have a conversation with that person. Model what they would say. After 10-15 minutes, stop for the day. At first, it will feel awkward and as though you are talking to yourself via a puppet, but after enough times it will become more natural and automatic, and you may find yourself slipping into that alternate perspective or hearing its internal logic comment on what you do throughout the day. Don’t forget to regularly remind yourself of the division between yourself and this part of your memory/personality/perception.

If you want to reintegrate with this abstracted sense of self, reverse the process. Take the feeling of that self and integrate it with your main sense of self. Visualize a picture, something symbolic, maybe of colors mixing to become a new color. Blue and red becoming purple. Keep reminding yourself that the only voice you hear inside your head is yours, and this is your thought process. It will quickly integrate into your main sense of self.

Don’t forget to come up with a cue that signals the beginning of a summoning/possession session and a cue that signals the end of it. Clean compartmentalization of behaviors and mental states is essential for a particularly vivid psychological experience.

Bob, Leland, and Mr. Robertson

Leland is one of the most compelling characters of the show. We see aspects of his psychology expressed indirectly in the events of the show. Leland, as Bob, is a character that affected the lives of not only his daughter, but of his co-workers and the people he engaged in criminal activity with. The various moves he makes to cover his second life are found peppered throughout the show; 25 years after the events of his daughter’s death and his subsequent suicide, his attempts to cover-up Bob are still being discovered - like with his attempt to hide his daughter’s journal entries in the police station that is only discovered in the third season.

Leland is one of the most interesting characters from this show to model, least of which being the wealth of information the show contains on his character. Leland is implied to have been a user of cocaine, and that fire was his metaphor for the high of cocaine. “Fire, walk with me.” Leland’s relationship with Mr. Robertson from his childhood is left mostly in the shadows; was it a sexual relationship? Did he witness Mr. Robertson kill someone? In either case, the psychological impact of Mr. Robertson on Leland’s childhood changed him as a person, leading to his possession by Bob in the show. It is a wonderful metaphor for the process of introjection itself, and how traumatic experiences and individuals can seem to haunt us for the rest of our lives. Not only did Leland find himself personally haunted by his experience with Mr. Robertson, but the way it affected Leland as a father to Laura affected her as well. Bob is a terrific metaphor for the psychological affects of these cycles of inherited trauma.

The Duality of Leland Palmer and Laura Palmer

Laura and Leland were similar and opposites in many interesting ways. There is an important contrast between the two that is worth considering. Laura and Leland both had difficult upbringings; Leland’s implied traumatic past and the implied trauma Laura witnessed from living in Leland’s household with its particular demands (his involvement in organized crime and drugs, and so on.) At the same time, it’s heavily implied that this makes them similar in some ways. Leland has a difficult time controlling his behavior, up to the point that Ben Horne calls for his murder (it is implied that Bob’s possession of Leland and his subsequent suicide may have been a metaphor for the psychological effects of Leland dodging Bob Horne’s hit) because he’s attracting too much attention. Leland was a man who could call a hit or kill a prostitute for fun, and it was implied he regularly practiced both things. Laura was not this sort of person at all and wanted to bring him down after discovering these things, making them opposites in a sense; however, this was Laura’s own approach to death, and it could be said this was how Bob manifested in Laura. Death by prison isn’t much better than death by hitman.

#witchcraft #witch #occult #twin peaks #pop culture magick #evocation #invocation #spirits #spirit work #fictives #otherkin #summoning #possession #mediums #mediumship #hedgewitch

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zirable · 5 years ago

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character study 03 .

envy’s mbti type : ESTP .

dominant extroverted sensing ( se ) - this homunculus’ defining traits are their spontaneity and lust for extreme measures, especially in the form of cruelty and violence. for the most part, envy is a doer—a short-term, “ present-minded ” individual. they’re observant, quick on their feet, and conjure most of their plans on a whim, and this is why father’s tasks for them are often “ in the field ” ( e.g. assassination, spying, instigating, etc. ). their shapeshifting abilities enhance such traits, as they are able to impersonate countless people and creatures without much thought or effort. however, this is also why when it comes to more elaborate strategies, they look to lust on what to do. envy has a tendency to be impulsive and may not always consider the future implications of their actions, and this shows in their appearances after lust’s death.

auxiliary introverted thinking ( ti ) - envy has a penchant for piecing together immediate environmental cues and acting accordingly with that information. this allows them to be useful during stealth missions, in spite of their outbursts and moments of brashness. envy also constantly demeans humans for their aversion to “ hard logic ”, asserting that they constantly allow their emotions to cloud their better judgments. for example, when interrogating dr. marcoh, envy is unable to empathize with him, instead stating that it’d make the most objective sense to sacrifice a singular village if it meant salvaging the rest of amestris.

tertiary extroverted feeling ( fe ) - envy’s emotional world is almost entirely externalized. they won’t hesitate to toy with other people’s emotions, if it means saving their own skin ( e.g. convincing may chang to inadvertently grant them their freedom ) or deriving extra pleasure from torturing their victims ( e.g. shapeshifting into their loved ones when killing them ). additionally, it's difficult for envy to exercise control over their own emotions or verbalize them appropriately. time and time again, they are depicted to be sensitive to criticism, such as threatening to kill greed after he calls them ugly, and are also prone to childish tantrums in the event of failure or not getting what they want. as an extension of this, their underlying desire in life is to foster genuine emotional connections with others, but their expression of such is twisted—cruel, dishonest, and jealous. this is partly why they go to extreme measures to make people suffer; they have what they do not.

inferior introverted intuition ( ni ) - envy isn’t visibly shown as introspective, as they prefer to live in the moment and be physically stimulated. however, it can be implied that they understand “ the big picture of things ” to some extent, which is mainly shown in their deep-seated jealousy of humans. envy understands that, despite their differences, one universal commonality that humans share is their reliance on emotional support. this is something that they want but know they cannot have, and this becomes their long-standing rationale for their disdain toward humans. envy’s lack of introspection is also evident after lust’s passing. the long-term schemes that envy plans on their own thereafter usually fail or are flawed in some way, which is ultimately what leads to their demise. envy has a hard time realizing the consequences of their actions, partly due to their present-oriented nature but also partly due to their hubris. the most prominent example of this is when envy gloated about killing maes hughes in front of roy mustang; they completely underestimated both mustang’s abilities and resolve.

#me: :(#me thinking about mbti: :)#❪ a history composed in dry blood / annihilation is all i have to my name ❫ CHARACTER STUDY .#long post //

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corinthbayrpg · 5 years ago

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NAME. Nikolai Jordahl AGE & BIRTH DATE. 212 & December 21st, 1807 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He / Him SPECIES. Vampire OCCUPATION. Owner of Void Nightclub FACE CLAIM. Herman Tømmeraas

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: parental neglect, abuse ) To be born in the year 1807 was no small feat, made even less so when one was born the third son and fifth child to parents who envisioned a prosperous future. For a small farming town in the hills of Norway, the Jordahl family made stride to ensure that they remained one of the more wealthy clans, though it was hardly a feat when one’s closest neighbor happened to be a few hundred feet away. It was on their farm that they grew various types of berries, raised animals from swine to deer, and tended to whichever product happened to be in high demand. It seemed as if the Jordahl family had an easy life, aside from the various tasks that demanded attention from the moment the sun rose to no sooner than it setting.

That is, everyone in the family aside from Nikolai Jordahl. Born prematurely in the middle of winter, he was not expected to make it through the first night, let alone the extent of the season’s days. His father had easily written him off the very moment he had seen him, and his siblings were no more excited to play with him than they would be a lame born deer. If it weren’t for the luck of the Gods, he may have very well frozen in the middle of the night, despite the blankets wrapped tightly around him while his mother held him close to her heart. He eventually, despite all odds being against him, made it through the winter days, and then some. But the distaste from his father hardly eased up as he grew older and older.

Nikolai was nothing to boast about. During his childhood years, he was small, lanky and appeared no more able to work the days on a farm than a blind man. He was quickly written off as a disgrace to the family name, and would surely be just another mouth to feed than an heir to the legacy his father had created. It was this utter abandonment from his father that had the boy spending more days in the forest just outside of their farm than he did tending to the animals or crops. Those were duties bestowed upon his brothers, the ones who were capable of handling the manual labor without fear of getting their hands dirty or knees scraped up. Nikolai held no fear of it either, he simply was passed over as being incapable.

If it weren’t for his increasingly good looks and ability to take orders, his father surely would have taken him far away from the family home and dropped him off to fend for himself. Instead, it was his father’s wishes that he would marry into another plentiful family, that Nikolai would be the tether that would put both families much higher in the food chain. But there was one small aspect that his father was not privy to --- Nikolai liked women about as much as he enjoyed tending to his family’s farm. It was a secret that he swallowed every morning, pushed away with little care to bring it up to a single soul in fear of what his father would do to him. With a back already littered with scars, arms covered in various burns, and a pinky finger that had never quite healed right, Nikolai would never again go against his father’s wishes. And so he would be set to marry as soon as the summer days were upon them.

Lucky for Nikolai, he would be nowhere to be found when the sun finally blessed them with warm days. For in the beginning of spring, when he was determined to pack what little items he held dear and run away from his family for good, he met a man that would do just that. It was in the depths of the forest, down at his favorite spot, that another boy, who appeared not much older than himself, found him. There was something different about him, and not simply because of the accent laced to his words, but something that drew Nikolai in like a moth to a flame. He was captivated by the other, who spoke of distant lands and the ability to go where he pleased when he pleased. Soon enough, conversations in the day turned to sneaking out in the middle of the night turned to a whole new world being opened up to the young farm boy.

Eventually, when talk changed from simple tidings to the true nature of what the other boy was, Nikolai hardly shied away from what had previously been unknown to him. Vampires, werewolves, witches --- those had been nothing more than bedtime stories to keep little boys and girls from doing anything bad. Disrespect your mother, a vampire will show up in your room in the middle of the night. Stray too far from home, and a werewolf will surely get you. These were stories that Nikolai had heard since he was nothing more than a baby, and these were stories that had never truly frightened him --- not when the real monster took form as his own father.

It was then, after the truth had been set forth between him, that Jamie laid out the real promise that had been nestling on the tip of his tongue. The chance to run away, to get as far away from the hills of Norway as they could go. It was an opportunity that Nikolai simply couldn’t pass up. So with no farewells to the family that had raised him, and belittled him from his youngest years, Nikolai left behind the life that had never truly felt like his, and started to travel the world with the one person who meant it to him. But that was not all that Jamie had given him --- for when they decided to leave together, he offered him one more opportunity; to be like him. It was a decision that Nikolai only needed a singular night to consider, the prospect of being more powerful than he had ever before needing little thought before he was graciously accepting.

But all good things were never meant to last, and eventually, when they had made it through most of Europe, the prospect of settling down was presented. To find a quaint town and make a home for themselves. The idea, however, had never been one that Nikolai had considered over the months. With his new found gift and the ability to do what he wanted when he wanted was simply far too monumental than finding a nice home to call their own. Besides, what would be next for them, they adopt some stray feline, start a flower garden in the backyard? The simple, quaint life was no longer something that Nikolai wanted. He wanted adventure, spontaneity, the ability to do whatever it was his heart desired. And so, with an unbeating heart that felt as if it were going to break, the pair of them parted ways.

The following months turned to years turned to a century, all the while Nikolai traveling and growing with the world around him. He spent months frolicking across Europe, before making his way to Africa, and then over to South America. The world was his for the taking, and Nikolai wanted to experience it all. He had his fair share of run-ins with hunters, shapeshifters, species that he had never even known existed; and each time made him feel more alive than he had ever before. He tasted everything there was for him to taste, or those that were not simply considered rumors within the supernatural world, and he did so with glee written upon his features. He had been born a simple boy, with no hope for the future than tending to a farm and marrying some pretty girl, but now he was a vampire that was capable of doing as he pleased, with little to stop him in his quest to experience everything.

It was a pull, however, that summoned him one day. A tingling in the very marrow of his bones, one that he had never felt before, that called him to a place that had never been on his map to visit. He’d never heard of the city’s name before, hadn’t recalled ever seeing it in a history book or hearing of it in tall tale stories. For all it was worth, the city was a mystery to Nikolai, which gave him even more reason to seek it out, to experience what it could offer and further understand why he felt such a great need to go to it.

PERSONALITY

+ adventurous, spontaneous, personable - reckless, chaotic, reactive

PLAYED BY MAL. PST. She/Her.

#mal

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