BODY HORROR/TRANSFORMATION MEME

[darkslayer]

For whatever reason, you're changing. Maybe you just drank a goofy potion and became an animal. Maybe you were put under a curse and need to find a way to reverse it, otherwise you'll be trapped as a monster forever. Maybe you've always been this way, or maybe you want to play out the whole shebang of slow, torturous transformation/body horror. This meme can be as dark or as light-hearted as you prefer.

THERE'S NO PROMPTS BECAUSE I'M A LAZY SHIT BUT: Please specify in the comments if you'd prefer to avoid body horror content! Also try to avoid leaving your comments blank and toss out some ideas or potential scenarios you'd like to work with.

Comments

Ratonhnhaké:ton (Connor) | Assassin's Creed III

[lifescratched]

[Werewolf/bear/eagle transformations, partial or otherwise, all sound like interesting ideas, or even combinations of the three. Think of it as ToKW AU spirit powers taken to an extreme -- for all intents and purposes Connor is almost a skinwalker in ToKW-verse anyway.]

[shutupandgetintheanimus]

[It didn't take Desmond long to realize something was very, very wrong. Kind of obvious when you woke up in the middle of the night unable to sleep on your back anymore because of the unbearable, sharp shooting pains that made his shoulder blades feel like they'd both been stabbed through with hidden blades. It doesn't want to go away, either. Or the obnoxious itch that's at the back of his neck, his shoulders, his entire back.

He groaned and rolled out of bed, reeling from fever. Fuck. His first thought was Connor, sleeping in the room down the hallway or....or hell, roaming around outside as a wolf or something. He hoped it was the former. God it fucking hurt. Desmond staggered out of his room and used the wall to keep himself from falling over. He needed help. Whatever was happening to him, it wasn't good. Not even remotely close to being good.]

[packalpha]

[Luckily for Desmond it is the former, and he's sleeping in the next room. Ratonhnhaké:ton's powers take a toll on his body if overused, and he still has some regard left for his own wellbeing to realise it could become an issue, which means getting what rest he can is vital.

He doesn't stir at Desmond's stumbling around in the hallway -- at least not yet.]

[shutupandgetintheanimus]

[Desmond rests his head against the door, the coolness of it feeling like heaven against his hot forehead. Finally he musters the willpower to knock at the door, the hand immediately snaking up to his neck to scratch at an especially infuriating itch. From the raised bumps, it feels like hives. Maybe he ate something off. But that doesn't explain the cramped painful feeling in his back.]

...Ra... d-- fuck. [he cringes. His fever is pounding in his head, killing any chance he might have had at remembering the pronunciation he'd been given, defaulting to the nickname.] Connor...you awake?

[packalpha]

[There's silence for a few moments on the other side of the door, then the sound of movement. Then finally, Ratonhnhaké:ton opens the door, glowing electric blue eyes surveying Desmond.]

...What is it?

[If there's anything like interest in the question, it doesn't register in his tone of voice or expression. Gaining his spirit powers has changed him in many ways, few of them good, and he finds that he has less concern for other people than he once did.]

[shutupandgetintheanimus]

[Desmond looks a mess. He's gleaming with sweat, the neck and chest of his T-shirt damp from it. His eyes are wavering gold, like he's in and out of Eagle Vision. He cringes as the skin of his back tightens, swollen. There's a weight there, and he can only think of one thing.]

I think... My back. Must've cut myself. I'm pretty sure it's infected...

[packalpha]

[Ratonhnhaké:ton studies him carefully for a few more moments. He really does look a mess. And aside from the sweat, there's a strange scent about him, one that seems out of place...]

Turn around, and I will look at it.

[shutupandgetintheanimus]

[He obliges without a second thought, using the door frame to steady himself as he turns around. His back does look swollen. Both shoulderblades are obscured by oval-shaped lumps that trail all the way down to the small of his back. It's subtle, for now, but enough to be noticeable. The back of his shirt is damp with sweat, and the scent is even stronger here.]

Knew I shouldn't have taken that Leap... [He groans and tries to wipe the sweat from his forehead. It's starting to get into his eyes.]

[packalpha]

It is not a wound, nor an infection. [Usually he's reluctant to touch others, but Ratonhnhaké:ton makes the exception just this once, reaching to brush his fingers over one of the lumps.]

...Something is growing here.

[shutupandgetintheanimus]

[Oh, good. Desmond closes his eyes and relaxes. Then the touch, and those words. The stimulation of fingers makes him stiffen--it's his imagination. Nothing just...moved... That would be...

He swallows down the wave of nausea that just roiled his stomach. A parasite? Some kind of insect? Ugh, that just made it worse. That, and the smell of wet feathers, which even he can smell now.]

...Get it out. [He's trying to keep a lid on his panic, he really is.]

[packalpha]

Would that be wise?

[It would be extremely painful, not to mention dangerous, since they don't know what they're dealing with. He seems to be seriously considering it, though, glancing back to where his hidden blade bracers have been left beside the bed.]

Edward Kenway | Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag

[jackdaws]

[MERMAN EDWARD YEAH. Can be a transformation (Precursor artefacts are fucked up and Edward has a habit of fucking with them...) or a complete AU, if you prefer. He'd have the tail of a tiger shark, as well as small gills on his neck.]

Simon Blackquill | Ace Attorney: Dual Destinies

[shacklebreaker]

[Shamelessly lifting from Ryslig's interpretation of harpies, Blackquill would transform into a harpy with black hawk-eagle plumage and wings. Willing to play around with the body horror transformation stuff, or he can already be fully transformed.]

Malik al-Sayf | Assassin's Creed

[swordking]

[raven!harpy transformation! And he's doing his damnedest to hide it. He can hide the physical signs easily enough for now, but there's no hiding his irritability or his occasional twinges in pain.]

Malik al-Sayf | Assassin's Creed

[notonetorun]

[If there's one thing Altaïr has always been able to know, Al Mualim aside, is when someone is lying to him. And right now, Malik was lying to everyone.

He didn't know why, or what he was trying to hide, but he intended to find out.

Whether he'd have to follow Malik around like a target, or he could coach it out of Malik would have to be seen. For now, it was seemingly business as usual in Masyaf as Altaïr went to meet Malik.]

Malik.

[swordking]

[Malik is seated behind his desk, a glove covering his remaining hand as he goes over his maps, fixing the shoreline of Cyprus, adjusting this and that. It helps him ignore the ache in his bones and the dull throbbing in his feet and back.]

Altair. [He glances up at Altair and looks away again.] You're here early this morning. Usually you sleep like a rock...or at least appear to.

[notonetorun]

The same could be said for you, my friend.

[He approaches Malik's desk.] You've been up earlier and earlier, I've heard.

[swordking]

One does tend to get more done when they rise an hour before dawn, instead of midmorning. [If only that were the truth. Malik had slept perhaps ten hours in three days, the dark circles under his eyes obvious. The pain kept him awake for long periods of time, and woke him continuously, robbing him of much-needed rest.]

Did you need something? Updates on the recently unemployed Crusaders? Summaries of the recruits' progress, perhaps?

[The sooner he could get Altair out of his hair, the sooner he could relieve his shoulders of their uncomfortable position of being pressed against his chair.]

[notonetorun]

[If Malik thought he had Altaïr fooled, the he either insulted him, or was really that desperate. Subtlety would have no room here, it seemed.]

I'll take the summaries of the recruits' progress, and what's been bothering you these past few days.

[swordking]

[He fell silent. After handing over the proper papers he remained seated, shifting a bit to ease the ache in his shoulder.]

...I would rather not discuss it, Altair. It is my burden alone.

[notonetorun]

There's no such thing for any of us, brother. [He got closer to the desk, his expression growing concerned and maybe a little pleading.]

Please... Let me help you.

[swordking]

[Malik sighed. Altair wasn't going anywhere. That much was obvious. Even if he did resolve to kill him, it might be a mercy compared to this. He braced himself on the desk and pushed his chair back.

There was a reason he couldn't wear his boots anymore. And that reason was the state of his feet. They had progressed well past anything resembling human, gray skin covered in black scales, the toenails lengthened into sharp black claws.]

You cannot help me with something such as this, Altair. [His tone is soft and even, but even he won't look at what his feet have become.] No one can.

[notonetorun]

[Well... Malik was right. He couldn't help with that. He stood there, eyes wide in shock and mouth agape.]

How... When... Oh, Malik.

[Needless to say, he understood completely why Malik wanted to keep that hidden. He got closer to the man, putting his hand on Malik's in an attempt of being somehow reassuring, even if he had no idea how to deal with this.]

Are you still changing anywhere else?

[swordking]

[Malik jerked his hand away from Altair's.]

...I don't know if this is a disease or a deformity. Until I do, you should keep your distance.

[He leaned forward slightly in his chair, the discomfort too much to continue sitting like that.] And yes. I am. In a manner of speaking...

The Boss | Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater

[frozenwhite]

[Horrible AU idea: what if Peace Walker was actually a cybernetic mishmash of The Boss's brain shoved into an artificial body/whatever was left of her real body salvaged from Russia?

The cyborg body would be identical to her real body down to the last detail, with some early nanomachine technology bullshit to make her compliant to being Strangelove's cyborg waifu following nuclear strike orders. She'd pilot the larger Basilisk machine the same way a regular Metal Gear can be piloted, except via hooking up to the Mammal Pod instead of a standard cockpit.

Like Peace Walker, she'd suffer from "amnesia" about the ultimate outcome of Operation Snake Eater.]