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moonstruckme · 6 months

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Hi! I'd copy-and-pasted this request into my doc to write it, but now I can't find it in my inbox! I don't think it was anonymous, so if this is your request and it somehow got deleted, I'm very sorry! Thank you for requesting, apologies for the wait, and hope you like it <3

hi love!!! Congratulations on 1,000 followers!!! I absolutely adore your writing and if your requests are open I’d love it if you could right something about poly marauders with a reader who’s non-binary or gender fluid. Maybe they just got together and the reader hasn’t came out to them yet or something. Idk you get all the writing freedom, of course if you don’t want to write it’s totally fine!!! Thanks anyway 🫶💗🫶💗 xoxo

cw: marauders unknowingly misrepresent reader's pronouns+gender

poly!marauders x nb!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“Sirius, no.” Remus rubs at his temples. “I will not mar you with a tattoo gun you bought from some bloke on the street.”

“Oh, don’t be such a wuss,” Sirius complains, sitting spread out on his bed. “It'll be fun, you can all do it!”

“I’m on board,” James says from his own bed. He’s levitating his shoes about the room idly. “Hey Pads, can we draw anything we want?”

Sirius ponders this for a moment. “If you do a dick, it has to be small, and I’m putting an arrow with your name next to it.”

James’ smile fades, and he lets the shoes drop. “You’re no fun.”

“I don’t know,” you say to Remus, looking up at him from your chosen spot on the floor of their dorm. “It’s his body, I say let him cover it in shitty tattoos if that’s what he wants.”

“Yes!” Sirius hops down from his bed to throw an arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your cheek. “That’s what I’m talking about, that’s my girl!”

You’d begun to glow at his over-the-top praise, but you dim at the last bit. Sirius must feel it; he looks over at you quizzically as Remus says for the fifth time, “That’s fine, but I won’t have anything to do with it.”

“Well, it’ll…” Sirius’ eyebrows furrow as he continues to watch you. You try to bury your discontent where he can’t see it, but once he catches a whiff of melancholy he becomes a dog with a bone. The levity slowly leeches from his voice. “It’ll be more fun if you all do it…Sorry, sweetheart, is everything alright?”

You don’t want the attention, but you can’t bring yourself to lie. “I didn’t mean to distract you,” you say softly, shoulders hunching forward. “Keep going.”

“No, that’s alright.” His slender fingers squeeze at your shoulder like he can tell you need the comfort. “It’s not actually important. What’s on your mind?”

You want to tell him. You want to tell all of them, you have for weeks, but is there ever a right time? When the boys had first asked you out, it felt too abrupt to say anything, like you were making a big deal out of nothing because they didn’t even know you all that well. But now you’ve turned serious faster than you could’ve seen coming, and they feel like they do know you that well. And the longer you go without telling them, the more like you feel like you’re keeping some dirty secret.

You should have just corrected them the first time they’d gotten your pronouns wrong. Each time feels like someone’s chipping away at your heart with a toothpick, the pain lessened by your surety in their good intentions but still very much there. It’s almost worse, now, to be on the precipice of falling in love with people who you don’t feel really know you, and it’s all your own fault.

This isn’t how you’d imagined the conversation coming about, but it might be the best chance you get for a while.

“I, uh.” You clear your throat, unsure if you should move out from under Sirius’ arm for this conversation but really not wanting to. “I don’t…listen, it’s not your fault, but I don’t really like it when you call me your girl.”

Sirius lets his arm drop to look at you properly, hurt flashing across his features. You take his hand, selfish thing that you are. “I mean it, it’s really not your fault.” It’s more plea than promise. “It’s just that I don’t—I don’t really see myself as a girl. I’m sorry.”

You watch confusion take hold in Sirius’ expression before letting your eyes flit to the other boys. James looks tentatively like he’s beginning to understand, and Remus’ face is carefully controlled. He leans his elbows on his knees, looking down at you.

“What do you mean by that, honey?”

You know the endearment is meant to soften the question, but you get all tense around the middle anyway.

“Just that…” You swallow, and James offers you a small smile of encouragement. “I don’t really see myself as any gender. It’s…it’s called nonbinary, I don’t know if you might’ve heard of it before? I’m really sorry I didn’t say something sooner.”

“Hey, that’s alright.” James kicks a foot out from his bed, nudging your leg gently. “I’m really glad you told us, angel. Thank you.”

You try to return his smile, chewing your lip.

“Merlin, I thought you meant you didn’t want to be our girl,” Sirius sighs, bumping your shoulder with his. “That would have been unacceptable. You can be our something-else, though, if you like.”

This is going well, you tell yourself. They’re being as kind as you’d always expected. Still, you don’t feel like they fully understand what you’re so clumsily trying to tell them.

“I get it if this changes things for you,” you say, and when you lean away from Sirius’ touch, he doesn’t chase you. “I know this is…you signed on for a girlfriend, not this.”

The gentle smile drops from James’ face. His eyebrows twitch together uncertainly. “We…what? No, we didn’t…we didn’t ‘sign on’ for anything like that. We signed on for you.”

“Darling,” Remus says, in that careful, measured voice that you can’t decide if you should be nervous about, “I don’t know a lot about this, so correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point that you’re still you? You’re just telling us how you’d like to be treated and understood, right?”

You take a second to run over his words in your head before nodding.

Everything about Remus has gone soft, from his eyes to the gentle uptilt of his mouth. “Then James is right. Nothing has changed. I mean, we can make any changes to our relationship that make you more comfortable, but nothing about how much we care for you is any different.”

“And look around you, sweetheart.” Laughter livens Sirius’ tone. “It’s not like any of us are only dating girls.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “That’s a good point,” you mumble, and he laughs, arm reclaiming its spot around your shoulders.

“Yeah, I actually do make those sometimes,” he teases. “Listen, gorgeous, I don’t think anyone here has a problem with you being whoever you are. Just tell us what you like to be called, and we will. And if there’s anything we do that you don’t like,” he adds, giving your shoulder a little squeeze, “you can tell us those things too.”

James nods, emphatic. “Exactly. We want to support you, angel. Thanks for telling us, but just keep talking to us when you can, okay?”

You have to bite down on your lip to contain the full scope of your smile. “Okay,” you promise him, overflowing with a gratitude that feels a lot like love. “Thanks. You guys are too sweet to me.”

Remus makes a pfft sound. “Dove, I cannot believe that is your standard for sweetness. You’ve set the bar far too low.”

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animelovelover123 · 7 months

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DMC Boys x Reader – Taking Your Virginity Headcanons

Parings: Dante, Reboot Dante, Vergil, Reboot Vergil, Nero, V x Reader

Synopsis/Author's Note: Headcanons for how the Devil May Cry boys would treat you if you were to offer them your first time.

Disclaimer: Some of these stories have moments that should not be replicated. Not all of these guys handle the situation the best and, if applied to real life, it can result in some hurt feelings, anger, and/or sadness. You all be safe, use your wits and gut feelings out there when you have your first time/give someone their first time.

Science Fact I Learned For This: A girl's hymen is NOT some wall/barrier that is broken through. It is a tissue that naturally has a hole in it big enough to let menstrual blood through. The whole idea of it hurting and/or bleeding the first time a girl has penetrative sex is because it may not be used to being stretched that far and can tear, not because it is punctured/broken through. There are, of course, exceptions to this but this is the general idea. Some people may have known this but in case you didn’t, you just learned something today like me! ^^

Dante

His reaction and treatment will change a bit depending on his age (aka what game time you are in) but many things will be consistent.

He always understands how much trust and courage it takes to give someone your first time and it means a lot to him that you want to choose him.

Whether he is in his late teens and gives you a shocked expression then a giddy smile as he says “Wait, really? Thanks! I’ll be sure to give you the time of your life.” or in his early 40s where he pauses for a moment to process before giving you a patient and gentle smile, saying “Of course, I’d be honoured to.”, he appreciates the gesture and does not take it for granted. Although, the older he is the more touched he is that you wanted to do this with him of all people.

This is not to say he isn’t going to make jokes and be silly about it. He takes the moment with all due respect, but he can’t help cracking jokes as that is just who he is. Secretly though, he is also trying to get you to lighten up about the idea. He knows how stressful losing your virginity can be, hell he went through it himself, and he hoped that by making light of it he could offer some levity to what he knows is going to inevitably be an awkward and uncomfortable time. If you can laugh at the mishaps instead of curling up and dying a bit inside, then his jokes have done their job.

Though not all of his jokes will land and may seem a bit insensitive at times, know that he is never laughing at you or mocking you, just trying to make you smile and relax.

When the night comes, he does what he can to make you feel secure. He locks all the doors and unplugs the phone to avoid interruptions. He offers you food and a bath before you start, and takes a shower himself. He makes preparations, like getting water, condoms, and lube, and lays them out so that you can see them and feel secure by their presence. And he will have a conversation with you beforehand.

If you try to fight the conversation, he will dip into his hardly ever used mature-adult mode.

“Hey now, no hiding from this babe.” Dante chuckles lightly as he gently pulls the pillow away from your face. “I know it’s embarrassing but we gotta talk about this, at least this first time, okay?”

He needs to make some things clear, define boundaries, and try to explain what to expect. He continues to throw in jokes to lighten the mood or will otherwise smile at you sympathetically, inwardly finding your bashfulness endearing.

He takes things nice and slow, verbally asking for consent and telling you what he intends to do so as to not catch you off guard.

He also takes into account what makes you feel secure. For example, do you feel better being covered by his body, whether he kneels over you or partially lays on you? Does the pressure and closeness calm you? Then he will do that. Or, alternatively, would that freak you out and make you feel trapped? If so then he will stay sitting up or lying beside you to give you space and so you see that you can escape if you want, not that he was holding you there, but it is an unconscious thing.

If your hymen does end up tearing it is not quite as panic-inducing as it could be thanks to Dante warning you beforehand that you might feel pain and that he stays calm, acting as an anchor while you settle from the sting.

He will stop. Not pulling out or pushing forward, just sit inside you and coddle you until you are ready. And if you have any questions like “What happened?”, “Am I going to be okay?”, and “Why does it hurt so much?”, he will patiently answer them with little to no jokes as he knows this is probably the most emotionally and physically intense part of a woman losing her virginity.

If at any point you panic and tell him that you want to stop, he will stop but not retreat. He will hold his position for a moment, let you breathe, and then ask how you are feeling. Do you really want to stop, because he will, or are you just anxious? After dating you for a while, he has gotten really damn good at knowing when you are overwhelmed and just need a break.

If you do truly want to stop though, or are generally not enjoying yourself, he will stop. He won't be upset or take it personally. He knows losing your v-card is a lot to handle and sometimes, no matter how sexy and skilled your partner may be, you may just not be into it. He can relate. He will even tell you of some of his sexual misadventures if he thinks it will make you laugh.

Either way, he will want to push aside any negative emotions you are feeling as soon as possible and bring back your smile. And maybe tomorrow you two can talk about what you didn’t like and how to make things better for you in the future.

He finds you and your flustered reactions adorable. He has done this dance quite a few times and some of the sweet intimacy feelings have faded over the years, but seeing you get bashful or excited warms his heart.

And when, if everything goes well, you do cum, Dante just wants to watch you flex, twist, moan, and enjoy your first orgasm.

He isn’t picky about whether he finishes this first time around or not. He will try of course so you can feel the full extent of his desire for you. But if you are completely tuckered out, he can settle without, and maybe even make a joke about it.

As you drift down from your high Dante lays beside you with an at-peace smile, playing with your hair, basking in your happiness.

Once you are down on earth again though he is back to his talkative self. Mostly making jokes and asking if you’re hungry.

“How about we order pizza, turn on some trash TV, and cuddle the night away.”

He does not ask how he did as your clear pleasure was plenty enough for him to know he was treating you well. If you do take the time to praise or thank him though, you’ll get to see a softer version of his proud smile paired with a rare blush as he thanks you in return.

Reboot Dante

It depends if you are a random person he met at a club or his partner.

If you are random and you tell him you have never had sex before, he will want to back out. Not because he finds that gross or a turn-off, it’s more so that he himself regrets how he had his first time and doesn’t want someone else’s to be like this.

Dante probably had his first sexual experience far younger than he should have, like 13-14 yours old, with an older woman, out of a desire to act older than he actually was, his street kid lifestyle, and fuck-authority mindset. As an adult, and as he gains more stable and healthy relationships through Kat and Vergil, he is starting to realize how that negatively affects him.

He does not fully understand how it messed with him, he isn’t emotionally mature enough for that yet, but he does know that he doesn’t really want to ruin someone else’s first time if he can help it.

He can’t really articulate this though, still too attached to some toxic masculine pride traits and the aforementioned lack of emotional maturity, so he will say some things like “You sure? Don’t you want to pop your cherry with someone you love or some shit like that?”

If you are his partner, he will think the same thing but probably won’t say it out loud.

Either way, he is going to have a tough time. He knows he should be slower, gentler, and comforting but that’s not really his style, so he is out of his element.

If he has advance warning, as in you are his partner and told him at some point that you were a virgin, and the time grows close, he will awkwardly go to Kat for advice. And, if he really loved you (and he was a bit drunk), he may just work up the nerve to ask his brother how to be a gentleman for you.

No matter what though, he is kind of awkward about it.

He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it because that is stupid, cheesy, and would put more pressure on you both to perform well. This helps in the beginning, making it so the lead-up of kisses, gropes, and rubbings are casual and playful.

As soon as you start to grow nervous and hesitant though, the switch is flipped and Dante is not the same. He will do his damnedest to keep up the cool and confident aura on the outside, but the nerves on the inside will leak out eventually.

He spends the whole time flipping between holding himself back, worrying about how he is doing, and agitation. He is so strung up that he honestly cannot really enjoy it, especially not in a sexually satisfying way. But he at least understands that this is not about him or his pleasure.

This first time, and probably the next handful of goes, it is about you. That does not stop him from jerking off later to get it out of his system and to make sure he doesn’t lose control on you.

He does, however, gain some satisfaction if you are able to enjoy yourself. Even if he is not able to be sexually gratified due to preferring rougher sex and not being able to have that with you this first time, to see you cum and be overall pleased by the end makes it worth all the struggle he went through.

On the other hand, if you are dissatisfied or request to stop in the middle, he is upset. He isn’t angry with you, he is angry at himself for fucking up so bad, though he can’t communicate this properly in the moment so it may come off badly.

If things go that wrong, he may just want to split up for the night.

If you are someone he just met that night at a club, he will send you home. He won’t be a total ass and just kick you out. He will at least walk you home or somewhere where you can make the rest of the trip yourself/with friends safely, but he can’t stand the awkwardness and emotions of having you stay the night after that.

If you are his partner, he will suggest that he just leave, even if you are at his place/in his room. You can convince him to stay, though he doesn’t have the heart to simply cuddle after he, as far as he is concerned, ruined things, so you would have to do something else like watch a movie to get your minds off of it.

If applicable, you can try to assure him all you want that he did nothing wrong and it was your own nerves/insecurities, and Dante may say he understands, but it is easy to tell that he 100% blames himself.

This guilt is even worse if your hymen ends up tearing because holly shit. He knows it can happen to some women, but he is not properly educated on this stuff and he has never seen it. To him, a bit of blood, even during sex, was not unheard of and never really bothered him. But if you start to cry, scream, and/or panic, he freaks out. He pulls out of you right away and starts asking what's wrong, even if somewhere in his racing mind he knows what is wrong. You can convince him to continue but he is rattled after that.

Post sex, assuming everything went well, he will be on edge. He is used to long nights of multiple rounds of foreplay and sex, sometimes with multiple people. So, going just one round, which possibly didn’t bring him to orgasm, at least not a fully satisfying one, left him with a lot of pent-up energy.

Depending on how wound up he is, he may try to gently encourage you to keep going by lavishing your neck in kisses, licks, and little bites, and grinding against you. But if you make it clear that you are done, he will back off.

He will cuddle you until you fall asleep, then probably slip off to a shower to finish himself. He will come back though and fall asleep wrapped around you, finding himself oddly satisfied. Not sexually satisfied, nor satisfied in the idea that he got to take a virgin. Instead, it was a satisfaction in making you happy for your first time, something he secretly wishes he was with his own, and you having chosen to share it with him.

Vergil

Vergil is maybe not be the best pick to have your first time with. He is proud, straightforward, and is also lacking in tact. This can make him come off as cold, unsympathetic, or even cruel.

He does care about you and does not want to hurt you, physically or emotionally, but he can’t communicate this well and his usual way of telling people there is no need to worry is by asserting that they are foolish and are wasting their breath on needless indecision.

This is first seen when you let slip that you are a virgin. He blatantly asks why you are telling him this.

“I care for you; you care for me. At some point we may consummate our bond through physical means. What does it matter how much experience either of us have in such things?”

If he were to articulate his thoughts and feelings better, he would further explain that he does not see sex as anything that special or as a requirement in a relationship. It is simply another, more primal and physically gratifying, way to express affection and trust. And to eventually create spawn but that comes further down the line.

He may need to have someone, whether it be you or his brother or even a mutual acquaintance like Lady, explain to him how emotionally taxing it can be for someone to have their first time. He will take note of it and be more conscious of your possibly complicated emotions on this, but his actions won’t really change.

He does not press you for it; he just waits until the moment feels right and then whisks you away to his bedroom.

If you show hesitation, he will push you to make up your mind. Again, he is not intending to make you feel pressured or like he does not care. He wants you to make a decision and follow through with it.

Do you want to stop here? Then say so clearly so you both do not waste time fanning the flames of passion just to snuff them out at their hottest moment and regret it after.

Do you want this now? Do you want him now? Then take him. Don’t concern yourself with the trivial restrictions of human societal limitation or personal doubt on how one of your gender, situation, or age should act. Grab hold of the moment by the reins, charge forward, and take what you both desire.

Vergil is not overly gentle with you, even if it is your first time. What point is there in treating you like you are made of glass when it will not properly prepare you for truly passionate lovemaking?

Besides, considering he has inhuman speed and power, can transform into a demon, and has an innate desire to breed, he is showing restraint.

If you start to panic and ask him to wait, that it’s too much, slow down, or something to that extent he will scoff. He’ll assert that you are fine and that there is no need to worry. Despite his verbal dismissal, he will stop or slow down as you requested and give you space to adjust.

If he does end up tearing your hymen, he is considerate enough to stop for a moment but will soon get back into it. In his mind, if you dwell on the pain it will only make it worse.

Besides, he believes you to be an intelligent woman so you should be well aware of what dangers lie in being penetrated for the first time. If you don’t, well you are more naïve than he thought.

Similarly to before though, despite what he says he will indeed halt his movements if you believe it would be better or you fall into distress. And while you come to terms with the pain, he reassures you of your strength in ways that may seem a bit harsh, but he means it to be motivating.

“This hurdle is nothing you can’t handle.”

“Do not falter at this small inconvenience.”

“This pain you feel is nothing in comparison to what you have conquered before.”

And when you do push past this, his lips quirk up into a proud smile. He does not praise you out loud though. Instead, he rewards you by lavishing attention on one of your multiple sensitive spots he has already identified and memorized for later use.

He will finish. It doesn’t matter if it is alongside you or if he has to keep pistoning into you while you tremble and whimper in overstimulation.

He claims that it is the price to pay when you have relations with someone. If either participant is left unsatisfied then it is a failure on both ends, the satisfied being a dishonourable thief and the unsatisfied being too weak to fight for what is owed to them.

Secretly though, Vergil was also quickly getting hooked on the sensation of you clinging to him, inside and out, and so he could not stop himself.

If he senses any dissatisfaction from you, he takes it as a personal insult. He will dive back in, no matter your flustered reaction or lack of energy. His ability to pleasure you shall not be questioned so if it takes an hour of pounding into you or burying his face into your core then so be it. Neither of you will rest until you are completely satisfied or your mind and body are numb from pleasure.

When all is said and done, he is quiet. It may seem like he is unhappy or uninterested, but in reality, his mind and body are still buzzing and he is struggling more than he ever has in his life to relax and focus.

Once he does find some clarity he gets up without a word and lifts you into his arms. He is able to hide how weak his legs are at the moment as he carries you to the bath so you may cleanse yourself and relax your muscles in the hot water.

He has no intention of joining you as he would rather address the inconvenient consequences of lovemaking. Condoms need to be thrown away or packed up. The bed sheets need to be removed and thrown in the wash, and then new ones dug out to replace them. Sleeping attire needed to be gathered.

He explains this to you matter-of-factly. But if you look up at him with those pleading, hopeful, beautiful eyes and ask him to stay, he can’t find it in himself to refuse you.

Reboot Vergil

When you first tell him you are a virgin as he briskly types away at his laptop, he initially responds with the same level of interest as if you just told him your favourite colour. Firstly, he is busy with work, as he always is. Secondly, being around Dante has desensitized Vergil so much that any mention of sex and its many facets would pass through his head like a gentle breeze while he keeps his focus on what he is doing.

It could take minutes, it could take hours, but eventually it will click. It hits Vergil like a truck when he realizes what you, his girlfriend, were trying to insinuate when you told him you were a virgin.

He feels stupid.

He feels excited.

And he feels a rush of pride and superiority at the implication that you want him to take your virginity. Out of all the people you have met before, or would ever meet, it was he who won your heart and would be gifted the treasure of taking your innocence.

He casually and calmly brings up the topic again the next time he sees you just to clarify. And when you do, his heart is sent racing while his mind starts formulating the perfect plan.

Thoughts of you quickly take over his mind. He can still focus on work when he needs to, but if he finds himself stuck with a particularly tedious or uninvolved task, such as watching security footage or waiting for his specially made virus to copy and send him all of the data in a company’s database, his mind wanders. And though his thoughts had occasionally drifted to you before, now that he knows what is to come in your relationship, you are all he can think about. This results in him planning a date for your first time together rather than letting it happen naturally.

He will make an event out of it. You two will spend the whole day together, or longer if he has the free time to whisk you away to a vacation, where he gives you his undivided attention and affection. And at the end of the day, he will take you to a luxury suit he booked both because he wanted to keep the dreamlike feeling of the day going and because he did not want to spoil your first time by having you somewhere dark, cold, and crawling with people demanding his attention like The Order headquarters.

He won't throw you down on the bed the moment you step through the door though, no. He will want to spend some time lounging in the suit with you, maybe drinking a bit, eating, talking, all with soft music playing from somewhere. And sprinkled throughout will be tantalizing touches and eye contact to build anticipation.

You two could be talking on the couch and his hand will slide onto your leg, hold still or give a couple of squeezes until he knows you have noticed, then run up and down your leg. Maybe he’ll pull you into a slow dance where you are either forced to look at one another, faces so close your warm breaths mingle together, or you are pressed together so close that you can feel each other's heartbeats. Or he will simply watch you lovingly, not saying a word, until you notice his lack of response and turn to him. He’ll hold your gaze for an agonizing few seconds, then his smile will twist into a grin, his tongue will peak out to lick at his lips as he looks down at yours, or he will bite his bottom lip while raking his eyes over your body. Then he’ll suddenly return to the conversation like nothing happened while secretly reveling in how frazzled he made you without speaking a word or touching you.

He will give you, through just trying to have a good time and directly offering, alcohol and medication beforehand. Nothing that could impair you, only enough to dull the possible pain. He will respect your decision if you decline, but he will have still bought numbing lubricant.

When it comes to actually doing it, he is more of a sensual lover so he is used to a slower and gentler experience.

He is intent on being in control, as he always wants to be, so he will insist that you don’t have to do anything but lay back and enjoy yourself while he takes care of everything.

For example, he will gracefully peel away your clothes and soon after strip himself for you so that you can both bear yourself to each other without any more barriers. This way he can: feel the trust you have in him, and he can show you that it is well placed; enjoy the slow, tantalizing reveal of your body; and get to feel the boost of pride at how you marvel at his body, which you have not yet seen due to his inclination to wear full pants and his coat or long sleeve shirts.

If you start to fuss for whatever reason he will hush and shush you in that gentle, soothing way. With a hand lightly caressing your face, an expression of mature reassurance, and voice in a soft whisper, he’ll say things like “shh, it's alright. I’ve got you; I won't let anything bad happen to you as long as you are here in my arms” and “hush darling, none of that self-doubt, you are doing perfectly”.

This is also his approach to if your hymen tears. The pain will be less severe due to one, or multiple, of the ways he has numbed you and that area, but he knows there is always a chance that the pain will be too great to fully abolish. So as you cry he will hold you, caress you, and assure you that you are fine. Nothing is wrong, this is natural, and that it will be well worth it. You just have to trust in him and his promise to take care of you.

If you demand to stop or are unsatisfied somehow, he will pointedly ask you what he did wrong. He will keep up a calm, patient, in-control demeanour as he fishes for information and reasons, but on the inside he is furious.

He had worked so hard, done so much research, meticulously guided the experience, and yet you are unhappy? Where did he go wrong? Why is he such a failure to the one woman he truly loves? Of all the ways he could have screwed up in his life, this was the most precious and delicate of moments and by ruining it he may have left a permanent scar in your relationship. It is a guilt and self-anger that will hang over him for years. Perhaps even to the end of his days.

Assuming everything goes perfectly, as he is sure it will, he has a plan for after everything is done. He will whisk you away to a bath, or the private hot tub he made sure came with the suit he booked, and feed you food and drinks to lavish you in luxury.

And he will still do that if you want. But when the moment finally comes and you are snuggled up against his heaving chest, hair tousled, clinging to him, eyes closed in exhaustion, and expression that of a gentle, pleased, and at peace smile… all of his plans and train of thought disappear. All he sees, and all he needs, in this moment is to hold you.

Nero

You being a virgin was both a good and bad thing.

On the positive side, Nero felt honoured that you are considering giving your virginity to him and it makes him more secure in telling you that he will be giving you the same.

The bad part is that neither of you knew what the hell you were doing or how to go about things. And in a town run by an old-fashioned religious group that implored their people to wear hoods and full-length clothes, you can bet that they are not about premarital sex so there were not exactly resources on teaching this sort of thing to people his age. Even Nero’s family (as far as he knew pre-DMC4) couldn’t really help since the only ones left were his brother and sister who had not done anything of the sort themselves.

Thank Sparda they were at least willing to help a little. They were both unsure about the idea, being super committed to their religion. Credo in particular would pull Nero aside and try to dissuade him, but he knew that his little brother was a spitfire who would not listen and did not follow the Order’s morals as closely as he wished he did.

Both Kyrie and Credo, knowing that this was going to happen eventually no matter what, did at least go out of their way to covertly gather materials like condoms, lubricant, and maybe some debaucherous books that had been confiscated by the Order as that was the closest to experience any of them could get.

Nero is impatient in getting to experience this with you. He was a healthy young man and he could not help his urges. He had the self-control to not push you into doing things you were not comfortable with, but that did not mean he didn’t push you a bit.

It wasn’t like he was trying to convince you or badger you into it, it was more so that he got ahead of himself sometimes. It’s just that when he would have you close, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you were. You fit in his arms so perfectly. You were so warm, so soft, so squeezable.

Often, he wouldn’t even realize what he was doing.

“What? Oh, sorry. My bad.” He says with a flustered look as he yanks his hand back after you pull away from the kiss to tell him he was grabbing your butt in a public park.

These urges would not stop when you left. Though he would never tell you, out of embarrassment and a sense of guilt for doing it, but he masturbated to thoughts of you regularly. It began before you two even started dating and were in the bashful flirting stage. He didn’t even mean for it to happen the first few times. He tried to keep you out of his thoughts in those moments out of respect but when he was lost in the moment, his mind foggy and his mental filter was down, while searching his mind for thoughts that could energize him to chase that finish line you inevitable popped up, and that’s often what got him. And this habit only increased the closer you two got and the more he had to wait to have you.

When the moment finally came, you two got to have the house to yourselves for the night and you were giving those signs, Nero was almost too excited. His heart was beating faster than normal and his hands were a bit clammy the whole time in anticipation.

He does his best to act confident and in control, as is his usual MO, but you can occasionally catch slipups where he fumbles and curses a bit under his breath. His excitement also gets the better of him sometimes where he suddenly and unconsciously goes a bit faster or a bit rougher than maybe he should. He will stop and slow down if you ask, but it will definitely happen a few times. He can’t help it, he is just so happy, so excited, and you feel so damn good.

There is a good chance that he will tear your hymen in all of his excitement.

Nero is a bit lost in the sensation of finally feeling you surround him that he does not fully register you’re discomfort until you start telling him to stop.

“Fuck. What is it?” Nero grumbles as he feels you trying to push him away. His shallow thrusts stutter to a stop and he fights to hold his position, a primal part of him demanding that he keep grinding into you.

“It hurts.” The moment you say that Nero pops up onto outstretched arms.

“What?” When he sees the distress in your expression and pulls out enough to see blood coming from you, he starts to panic. “Holy shit, what happened? Are you okay? Fuck, shit, wait.”

His panicking causes you to panic which makes him more panicked and this spirals. He pulls out fully and tries to assure you that “I can fix this, just relax”, but that’s an impossibility at this point. He does not understand what is happening or how to deal with it. He races to grab you a towel and maybe pain medication? A hot water bottle? What does he do?

In the end, he calls Kyrie for help. She doesn’t really know much more than you two about sex but she is able to stay calm and relax you two enough to talk about things and maybe call a doctor. She will even take the bullet and call the doctor herself claiming she is the one who tried to have sex just to save you the embarrassment if you can’t bring yourself to do it.

In short, it is an absolute mess and makes things awkward between you two for a bit. He will avoid getting too touchy or intimate with you for a little bit out of guilt. You can even catch him mumbling apologies at seemingly random times because he thinks back to what he did and feels the need to.

When you two do finally have a proper, satisfying experience, whether it be after getting over the first mishap or if the first time went well because your hymen was already open enough for him, Nero feels a sense of giddiness.

He was not used to this post-coital bliss, instead often having post-nut clarity and maybe feeling a bit bad about it, so it kind of catches him off guard. He curls around you and nuzzles into your hair with a pleased smile. He peppers you with occasional kisses, tells you how good it felt, and asks you if you liked it too.

He is awash with renewed energy and can't seem to settle down. He will need something to calm down like a bath, food, music, or even a little game. And the whole time he can’t keep his hands off of you. Not so much for sexual reasons, though there was a tiny bit of that, but just out of the need to be close in this moment and show you affection.

And when you two do finally fall asleep, you are unable to escape his vine like embrace until the next morning.

V can, and will, play the long game with you. That is to say, he will spend weeks, possibly months, preparing you for the main course.

When you tell him you are a virgin and hint, through words or actions, that you are considering having your first time with him, his plan is set into motion.

He has no intention of simply waiting for the right time and then trying to take you all the way in one go. Instead, he builds up to it over multiple days.

He will start with kissing you a bit longer than the usual pecks or goodnight kisses you are used to. Once you get comfortable with that, will move to the next step.

He won't simply release you after a kiss, instead encouraging you to give him 1, 2, or however many you are willing to, more. As you pull away, he will chase your lips or gently pull you back to him by cupping your cheek or threading his fingers through your hair to hold your head. Once you are receptive to that he will proceed to the next step.

As you two kiss, or even just hold each other with the right mood set, V’s usually stationary hands start to wander. At first, he’ll avoid your more private areas and stick to rubbing your back, shoulders, and arms. Then he will start caressing them. Then he will move to more sensitive areas, like your legs, hips, and neck. Then, he will start gliding his hand over your rear, chest, and lower stomach just above the most sacred of areas. He may even try to hold his hand there if you will let him. He won't grope and grab, just hold and maybe caress those spots to let you grow comfortable with him touching you there. And once you are comfortable with that, he will take things further.

So on and so forth. And between every attempt and step, there is a break of hours, a day, or more.

He knows that committing to something like making love for the first time can be overwhelming with all of the new experiences, sensations, and emotions that come with it. So, instead of compressing all of it into an evening, he will separate these to make the ascension into full-blown passion as unjarring and natural as possible.

Even when you two do get into a bed and start touching under your clothes, V still takes things agonizingly slowly.

The first time you cum because of him had you sitting in his lap with your clothes still on and his hands down your pants. With one arm supporting your back to keep you in a semi-laying position while he held you up, and his face pressed into your hair, so you are not embarrassed by his staring and he can whisper into your ear, he pleasures you with just his hand, showering you with praise and offering reminders.

“You feel wonderful my dear.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“You are doing so well.”

“Please don’t hold your breath, let yourself breath and allow me the pleasure of listening to your sweet voice.”

“Move, flex, twitch, cry out, close your eyes, do whatever it is you desire. I will be here with you no matter what to take care of you. To guide you. To love you.”

“Focus on my fingers and how they glide betwixt your flower petals, how they spread your slick until it coats you completely, how they circle your bud, how they slide in easily as if they were made to bring you to ecstasy.”

He will get you to finish like this, held on his lap and in his arms, without pushing you to reveal your body to him. And this is where the sexual escapade will end for the night. V can see that you are tired out by this first sexual interaction, whether you see it as losing your virginity or not, and he simply wants to enjoy caring for you and soaking up the warmth radiating from you in your afterglow.

What’s that? You’ve noticed that V is still hard and did not actually cum? “Do not worry yourself over such things my songbird.” He assures you as he lays you down on the bed and begins stroking your hair. “Though I truly appreciate your attention to me despite you being the star of this moment, I must confess that not even reaching a physical climax can outmatch the pleasure I feel in seeing your ecstasy, so there is no need for you to overexert yourself on me when you have already satisfied my heart and soul.”

This also continues for a while, where he will bring you to completion through his hands, mouth, or some other means without asking for anything in return. Though, if you ask him if you can touch him, he will gladly welcome it. But your pleasure is paramount and whether he reaches his own orgasm or not is irrelevant.

It goes without saying that if, at any stage, you ask for things to slow down or stop, V will without hesitation. However, one slightly negative effect is that he tends to take even things like “slow down” and “wait” as hard stops, pulling away and ending the moment there. You may have to stop him from just giving up right away. He finds it unexpected but endearing and arousing when you ask him to continue.

When he does, finally, go all the way, things are just as slow, sensual, and focused on your experience as everything leading up to this.

Having your hymen torn by V is extremely unlikely considering how carefully he had trained and molded your body for this moment. But, hypothetically, if this were to happen he would be frustrated.

He does not blame it on you in the slightest, nor does he show any sort of negative emotion outwardly. He pulls out and showers you in affirmations and comfort in any way he can with a gentle, sympathetic smile. On the inside though he is fuming.

He had been so careful, worked so hard to avoid this, and done everything he could to prepare you. And yet now his precious songbird was in pain and there was nothing he could do except offer moral support and maybe offer pain medication or natural pain relief like a bath.

He will insist you stop here for today and will take a few steps back in his plan to ease you back into trying that again.

After the eventual successful try, V is in a state of bliss as he enjoys the fruit of his labor. To experience the most intimate of connections with the one he loves and have you lay in his arms feeling satisfied, safe, and secure after giving him something so precious was a joyous moment he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

#devil may cry x reader #devil may cry imagine #dante x reader #nero x reader #v x reader #vergil x reader #reboot dante x reader #reboot vergil x reader #v (dmc) x reader

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makeste · 6 months

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BnHA Volume 35 - A Brief Reaction Journey

hello! so as mentioned in my last post, I’ve started catching up with the BnHA manga again FINALLY after almost two years, and have made it through a fair number of chapters so far! and since I’m not sure how long it will take me to actually post the corresponding liveblogs, I figured I’d make a couple of posts in the meantime to sort of preview my reaction journey thus far with some good old-fashioned OUT-OF-CONTEXT BULLET POINTS taken from my ramblings. originally I was going to make a single post for all 25 chapters I’ve read so far (up to 367), but I quickly realized that was waaaaay too ambitious lol. so for now it’s just this one, and I’ll put up the vol. 36 post probably tomorrow afternoon.

spoiler warning: just fyi, this post will obviously feature spoilers for chapters 342-350*, BUT it will also include some stray spoilers from chapters 362 and 403 as well, so just a heads up for that if you aren’t fully caught up!

*chapters 340 and 341 are not included because I've already posted full reaction posts for each one here and here, respectively.

Chapter 342

Endeavor being taller than Jeanist just feels so WRONG to me regardless of whether or not it is factually accurate. does this mean All Might is also taller than Jeanist?? I don’t want to live in a world where Best Jeanist has secretly been a perfectly normal sized person this entire time. someone please lie to me and tell me that he is tall

many thanks to Kacchan for inserting this small bit of levity into this scene which was otherwise well on its way to sending me into a SPIRAL OF FEELINGS, and in fact still is whenever I look at that panel of Deku with Eri and Kouta, and also that GODDAMN HUG WHERE HE AND INKO ARE BOTH CLEARLY AND PAINFULLY AWARE THAT THEY MIGHT NEVER SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN, AND IN THAT MOMENT THEY’RE JUST TRYING TO HOLD THE OTHER AS TIGHTLY AS PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE, AND SHE’S PRAYING TO WHATEVER DEITY IS OUT THERE THAT HE’LL COME BACK SAFE AND WHOLE, AND HE’S PRAYING THAT HIS MOM WILL BE ALL RIGHT EVEN IF HE DOESN’T COME BACK, AND NOT ALLOWING HIMSELF TO THINK ABOUT HOW MUCH HE ALREADY MISSES HER, BECAUSE HE CAN’T THINK LIKE THAT ANY MORE, BECAUSE THIS BOY IS FULLY GROWN NOW BECAUSE HE HAD TO BE, BECAUSE HE HAD NO CHOICE, AND I’M BOTH SO PROUD AND SO FUCKING SAD ABOUT IT AND I JUST NEED A MINUTE HERE ACTUALLY, OKAY!! OR FIVE MINUTES!!

LMAO WHAT AN AUSPICIOUS AND NOT-AT-ALL OMINOUSLY FOREBODING NAME. “hmmm what should we name our new class 1-A fortress?” “hmm well I was thinking maybe Troy, after the legendary city with the famously impenetrable walls, which to the best of my knowledge were never breached, or at least that’s what I assume since I never finished reading The Iliad! :) :) :) ...wait, why are you all looking at me like that. they didn’t actually breach them, right? guys? what happened to Troy? GUYS?”

I’m actually so proud of Deku because he’s come such a long way from the days when the mere CONCEPT of even TALKING to a girl was enough to floor him lol. but also I’m legit cracking up at he way he tried to segue into random small talk in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse. gotta be smooth about it!! casual!! you can tell how casual they are because both of them are suddenly struck by the inexplicable urge to fuss with their hair!!

Horikoshi really said “FUCK YOUR SQUADS!! ...but if we had a Todosquad this is who would be in it I guess”

my god. between this and the OchaDeku conversation the villains truly do not stand a chance do they? and they don’t even know how screwed they are yet. REDEMPTION IS COMING!! IT’S KNOCKING ON THE DOOR, TRICK OR TREAT, Y’ALL READY FOR THIS

Chapter 343

so we’re opening with everyone’s favorite Guy With An Old Wad Of Chewing Gum For A Face, AFO!

did this son of a bitch kill Nao’s dad and steal his sexy lie-detector quirk??

sob AFO is all “can I have your son’s cell phone number please” and they’re all “SURE”

bonsoir little Yuuga

do. ...do you not actually know. was this meeting not prearranged. “why are you here Aoyama?” “why are you here, Deku?” truly, why are any of us here??

I’m sitting here trying to play the “guess which parts of this dialogue are real vs fake” game and coming up completely stumped on every single sentence

so Yuuga’s all “can you believe that even though the city of Musutafu is basically down to just U.A., a Dollar Tree, a couple of crumbling park benches, and one very determined Starbucks, we somehow still have functioning courts and lawyers?” I actually can’t believe that at all tbh. you’re telling me “it’s the fucking apocalypse” is still not a good enough excuse to get out of jury duty

damn, Aoyama out here with the trash talk and the ON YOUR LEFT?!

MONOMA??!?!?!?!

Chapter 344

“Eraser’s” plan, indeed. you dare say that right to Kaminari’s face

SHINSOU!!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!?

HEYA YOURSELF YOU HANDSOME KNAVE!! LOOK AT YOU!! fucking loving the costume my dude! pretty please tell us your hero name to go along with it. is it MindCraft. I think your hero name should be MindCraft. don’t look at me like that Shinsou we need more punny hero names in the world

“yes well you see, I couldn’t do it, so I learned how to do it.” great story Shinsou

the way he’s rubbing the back of his neck there. are we gonna get some real Monoma character development at long last. feels like it’s long overdue and I am thrilled. he’s such a great character and I feel like we’ve only barely scratched the surface of who he actually is as a person and as a hero

THE UNEXPECTED VLAD KING MENTORSHIP WITH THE ARM AROUND THE SHOULDERS?? he really needed that support. outwardly he’s always made a big show of wanting his turn in the spotlight and begrudging class A for stealing the scene at every turn. but how much of that is really just an act. some of it? most of it? maybe even close to all of it? because right now he suddenly seems so small and young here and really wishing he wasn’t in this unenviable position of being one of the many World’s Last Hopes who are all way too fucking young

did Mirko’s giant robot hand just grow into an EVEN GIANTER giant robot hand??

long beautiful flowing mermaid hair. sorry what was I saying I kind of spaced out there for a sec

YES, AFO, ALL OF THIS TO SPLIT YOU UP YOU STUPID MUSH HEAD. MAYBE IF YOU EVER ACTUALLY FINISHED A MANGA IN YOUR GODDAMN LIFE YOU’D KNOW HOW A FINAL BATTLE IS SUPPOSED TO BE CONSTRUCTED. YOU MOLDY AVOCADO

Chapter 345

“no you don’t understand, we have so many sixteen-year-olds whose coattails we’re all hanging onto. we have sixteen-year-olds who can take over people’s minds. sixteen-year-olds who can create portals to warp you halfway around the world in an instant. and let’s not forget the sixteen-year-olds who can act their damn asses off. we have the best sixteen-year-olds in the world. our sixteen-year-olds are so much better than yours you fucking losers”

Deku I swear. if I’m about to discover that the reason you weren’t there to stop Kacchan from being literally, actually, canonically murdered is because your distracted ass got yoinked into the void by some no-name villain chucklefuck, I’m gonna...

don’t listen to him Aoyama you were magnificent. you were my favorite in all of the stage plays

BUT IS PHASE TWO SUPPOSED TO INVOLVE DEKU IN ANY WAY THOUGH??? HELLO??? IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME??? I’M FROM THE FUTURE AND THIS IS URGENT, PLEASE

“I fucked up Ochako, I fucked up so bad” omfg Deku

she doesn’t want to hurt you Deku she just wants to shower you in love. in her own special way. by stabbing you a lot

anyway have fun on this... tropical island??? I guess?? Kacchan will just have to hold down the fort in the meantime. which I’m sure will go absolutely fine

Chapter 346

“th-th-this is really bad, right?” yes Tamaki, yes it is. you’re stuck here on the Super Mega Ultra Radical Gnarly Cracked-Out Wonder Stage with Shigaraki Fucking Tomura and at least two of you are about to die and I’M NOT OKAY

so now we’re also getting this hilarious insight into the inner workings of the Mega Ultra Tremendous Stupendous Incredible Sky Coffin and it is truly, truly phenomenal

Horikoshi stop taking my sarcastic jibes and owning them completely challenge!! all the best sixteen-year-olds. all the finest greatest Hyper Ultra Sparkle Glimmer Wonder Battle Stages

this is genuinely one of the boldest lampshading efforts I have ever seen in fiction you guys

“yes, we acknowledge that this does indeed seem impossible to have pulled off, BUT have you considered that, fucking quirks though???? AND THAT THEY ARE, AS THE KIDS SAY, WILD??”

Chapter 347

lmao they’re shouting at Monoma accusingly and he’s all “I’M HAVEN’T BLINKED AT ALL YOU GUYS I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO TELL YOU”

don’t mind him, he’s just out here growing out his hideously malformed hands and fingers endlessly from every part of his body, normally, as one does. nothing quirk-related about it. anyone could do this if they simply exercise and maintain a balanced diet. this 100% is not a quirk y’all it’s just essential oils

SUDDEN MONOMA FEELS DELIVERED TO MY DOORSTEP???

awwww. the way he’s almost panicked, frantically wondering if he somehow fucked the quirk up and desperate for Aizawa to believe him that he’s trying his best. and Aizawa quick to reassure him. this kid is so desperate for approval. and unapologetically careening his way onto my top ten character list, welcome dear boy

so that’s that. see you in two years Deku. his last words spoken out loud to Kacchan were, and I quote, “wha --”

Aizawa is so hopelessly impossibly hot at all times and I don’t know how the universe can handle his existence. he’s even doing it without activating his quirk now. no ponytails or anything. just an eyepatch and a dream

don’t mind me, I’m just out here doing literal algebra to figure out how long it would take Deku to get back here if he traveled at the same speed as All Might did in chapter 90 (30 seconds per 5km, apparently). about 20 minutes, give or take. well shit. hopefully he’s a little faster than Kamino-era All Might was, especially since he can fly and has that Fa Jin shit too. or maybe Rody can fly him lmao. or S&S’s hot fighter pilot boyfriend

“what’d Sensei say, Deku?” “he said no, looks like I gotta uber. can I borrow your credit card, I promise I will venmo you back”

unfortunately for Deku he does not realize he’s accidentally gotten himself caught up in what will undoubtedly end up being the most erotic and bisexual of the various final battles

can’t believe Deku has like 6 love interests and out of all of them, Toga is the first one who actually asks him out. good for you girl. gotta shoot your shot

Chapter 348

FELLAS IS IT GAY TO BREAK OUT INTO TERRIFIED BEN DAY DOTS BECAUSE A GIRL EXPRESSED HER CARNAL INTEREST IN YOU????

anyway so since Deku apparently doesn’t understand how romance works either, he’s trying his best to give an actual response by recontextualizing all of this in terms of the one big thing he does understand: All Might

you’re telling me you never wanted to stab All Might to death and then turn into him?? wow I just can’t believe it

but also... okay lol. so I was thinking about this sarcastically, but was then struck by the very unironic thought that there sorta kinda is someone whom Deku does, both consciously and subconsciously, try to be like, and who he also kinda does apparently share the same heart and mind as. at least if chapter 403 is anything to go by lol. soooooooo. huh

god damn it Toga. absolutely none of what you’ve said or done here has been even the SLIGHTEST BIT reasonable. you can’t just tell someone you want to stab them and be their girlfriend. and if and when they try to let you down easy by responding with the MOST THOUGHTFUL AND GENTLE REJECTION ANYONE COULD EVER POSSIBLY MAKE UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES, because they’re actually the WORLD’S NICEST MAN, you can’t just respond by doing whatever it is you’re presumably about to do, which I’m guessing is gonna be really violent and unhinged

so Ochako is all “ever since we fought last time I’ve been thinking about you a lot!” and Toga is all “are you serious, YOU broke up with ME bitch” and now she’s standing behind her with a knife

“she’s the least predictable of our opponents” YEAH NO KIDDING LOL

“everyone knows that Toga is actually Ochako’s villain, like ffs Deku you haven’t even interacted with her since the Provisional Exam arc.” Deku they’re 100% right and you’re looking more and more the fool with each passing second

well all right lol. twenty minutes to get back to Musutafu. let’s just hope he doesn’t run into any traffic on the way

Chapter 349

what the fuck is OFA Dos’s quirk exactly and are we ever gonna get to it before I literally die of old age. at this point there’s gotta be a reason why he’s not using it, right?? so what’s the deal there? does he still somehow not know how? is it too dangerous? and I really need to know why II has the Bakugou gauntlets. tell me this isn’t one of the things we’re still waiting on answers for two years down the line because I swear to god I will cry

anyway so Deku’s saying he’s doing his best but he’s still “too slow”. WELL THEN MAYBE IT’S THAT TIME?? DEKU?? WHAT DO YOU SAY

NO FUCKING WAY LOL, CAN IT REALLY BE THAT EASY??!

OH WHAT THE FUCK, FUCK YOU NOT!CCHAN LOL YOU’RE JUST HERE TO COCKBLOCK HIM?

fuck. so has he used it since then?? is he gonna use it finally now that Kacchan’s alive and well again?? oh my god I need to shut up and stop asking questions and just keep reading. fuck

wow so Dabi’s literally just burning the All Might statue while he stalls for time trying to figure out how to beat his OP little brother who was literally engineered to be better than him sob. out of all the villains he’s probably the most screwed right now isn’t he

starting to get an inkling Dabi’s not happy that he doesn’t actually get to fight Endeavor. getting some subtle hints here and there that he might actually be upset about that

apparently wanting to fight Dabi and stop him from helping to destroy the world makes Shouto a pawn. wake up Shouto. stop being such a sheep, Shouto. can’t you see that saving the world is exactly what Endeavor wants you to do???!

this is just going to be seventeen chapters of Dabi talking about nonsense while they both stand around progressively getting hotter both literally and metaphorically isn’t it

Chapter 350

OH SNAP. [SLAMS HAND ON TABLE] HERE WE GO. IT’S FINALLY THAT TIME

well, well, well. to the surprise of absolutely no one. the real one who was responsible for everything this whole time

but I just have to pause real quick before we continue. because it absolutely cannot be a coincidence that AFO just happened to be there once again. just waiting in the shadows to magically swoop in the minute disaster strikes. and so, just like with baby Tenko, this immediately makes me suspect that Touya burning himself alive was not in fact a training accident at all. which is something I did not expect, and which, just. fuck, fuck, FUCK AFO. fuck this guy.

looks like the children's ward of a hospital?? wait, what??

how the fuck is he still so adorable. when exactly did the transition take place between adorable and sexily unhinged. right now Todoroki Touya still looks to be the absolute most adorable child on the planet

I miscalculated. I was not emotionally prepared to handle this chapter right now. I should not have clicked

really love to see that Touya didn’t just cave right away. wouldn’t have felt right, ngl. just doesn’t fit in with what we know about his character

oh shit wait we’re cutting back to Dabi talking to Shouto and he says he did come back home??

fucking why. goddammit what the hell. why is this the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever read. LOVE HIM!! SOMEONE!! ANYONE!! just love him, please. literally all he has ever wanted!!

JESUS. I HATE THIS. I am so upset right now. out of all of the horrific and traumatic and terrible, awful things that have happened to BnHA characters in their flashbacks, the thing that hits me the most out of all of them is this one image of a sixteen-year-old boy standing before an altar, with his family very much alive and standing RIGHT FUCKING THERE IN THE NEXT ROOM, and yet somehow feeling more alone than he’s ever been. so alone he literally gives up all hope in this one moment. my god I feel all of it and it’s so fucking devastating I keep having to stop typing so I don’t completely break down sobbing

well damn. after a rush of 15 and 13-page chapters, which were all admittedly appreciated by me in my race to catch up to Light Fades to Rain before this coming Friday, Horikoshi finishes up the volume with one hell of a 17 page finale. once again the Tododrama delivers. this was fucking phenomenal

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha vol. 35 #way too many characters to tag so I am not gonna bother!#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #lotta 'calm before the storm' chapters in this one #also I was kinda disappointed by the cover of this volume ngl #but at least monoma and shinsou got their little moment on the back #vol. 36 post should be up tomorrow #vol. 37 post to follow once I finish the rest of those chapters #and then I'll start posting the actual recaps again probably in a couple of weeks or so #once I finish catching up

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tinyinvadr · 6 months

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I’m back with another chapter! Thank you all so much for supporting this fic! It’s cool to know that people like the same stuff as I do, and it motivates me to write more!

Ch. 1/Ch. 2

Hide & Shrink

Chapter 3

I woke up on a plush surface, practically sinking into it. There was a part of me that wanted to still believe my entire experience with the Digital Circus was a dream, but I knew that couldn’t be true.

This wasn’t my bed. Not my real bed, at least. In fact, it didn’t feel like a bed at all, more like a giant pillow.

Right. The last thing that happened before I passed out was when I realized that Caine couldn’t change me back to my normal size. Which meant wherever I was, I was likely still tiny.

I finally opened my eyes, and the bright colors surrounding me were almost blinding. Massive blankets and pillows of every shade stretched as far as I could see.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the pillows were kind of nice. It reminded me of pillow forts…

Of course. This was Kinger’s pillow fort. That made sense, since he was holding me before I passed out. He probably brought me there so I could rest.

“Oh, Pomni, you’re awake! You really had us scared back there.”

I don’t know how I didn’t notice that Kinger was also in the fort with me right away. Then again, he kind of blended in. His robes almost looked like one of the blankets.

I tried to scoot myself back, but the pillow was too soft and I ended up just sinking into it further.

“Oh, did you need help getting up? I’ve got you!”

Kinger started to reach for me, and I frantically tried to move away faster.

“Nononono! It’s okay! I’m okay!”

He could tell I was panicking and stopped, glancing away in shame.

“Aw, I’m sorry. I must be freaking you out right now. I know I’d be terrified if I was in your place. But there’s nothing to worry about! I won’t grab you again, and it’s perfectly safe in my impenetrable fortress, so we can just wait here until Caine gets this whole thing sorted out.”

Admittedly, I needed the levity, so I gave Kinger a nod of approval and willingly let myself sink into the pillow. I could see why he liked to hide in his fort. It was like a little break room from the overwhelming insanity of the circus.

But it wasn’t as impenetrable as he thought it was.

A pillow on the bottom of the fort suddenly slid out of place, and before either of us could react, a huge assortment of pillows and blankets came crashing down on us.

It was a chain reaction of disaster as Kinger fell onto the pillow I was laying on, and the sudden weight shift sent me flying into the air, only to fall on my face a couple inches away. As I struggled to push myself up, I could hear the voices of the others.

“Jax! What did you do that for?!”

“What? I wanted a pillow.”

“But… Pomni could’ve gotten hurt…”

“These are cartoon physics we’re workin’ with here. She’s fine, look.”

For the third time, I was grabbed without warning and lifted into the air, this time by Jax. The thought of what he might do made me sick. The others at least seemed like they were worried about me, but it was pretty clear that he didn’t care.

In front of me stood Ragatha, Gangle, and Zooble, all looking concerned. Well, at least Ragatha and Gangle. Zooble’s expressions are kind of hard to read.

“She doesn’t look fine…”

“Yeah. I’m sure she LOVES being grabbed like that, Jax. Totally not traumatizing at all.”

Jax simply laughed off their concerns, emoting by moving his hands and arms around a lot in a way that was definitely intentional.

“Hey, come on, you guys, Pomni can speak for herself. If she didn’t like it she’d say something. Isn’t that right, Pom?”

By the time he stopped talking and moving me around, I couldn’t hold back and I threw up. Again.

Jax quickly dropped me and backed up in disgust.

“Ew. Somebody call Bubble.”

Right as he said that, Bubble appeared in front of me, way too close for comfort.

“Cleanup crew at your service!”

I backed up as he started licking up the vomit just as he did the day before. He’s really a freaky little thing. Though he didn’t look so little from my perspective.

Caine appeared shortly afterward, shaking his head(?) at Bubble, but then shifted his attention to me.

“Goodness gracious! You sure are prone to getting sick, aren’t you? Do you need anything? Want me to carry you to your room?”

The last thing I wanted was to be picked up again, so I queasily backed up in protest.

“No, no, it’s fine, I can get there by myself.”

Just as I regained my balance enough to start walking away, Jax walked in front of me, nearly stepping on me.

“You sure about that, shorty?”

Ragatha glared at him again as she made her way over to Caine.

“Anyway, Caine, have you made any progress on finding a way to fix Pomni?”

“Nope! Still working on it! But don’t worry, I’m sure a solution will come to me soon! After all, this is the digital world, and anything is possible!”

Zooble scoffed. “Yeah. Anything except leaving.”

“That’s the spirit, Zooble! Now then, Pomni, I leave the choice up to you if you want any of us to escort you to your room, or anywhere else you might like to go!”

I really would have preferred to be alone, but that wasn’t an option on the off chance that Jax decided to try anything else. I needed someone I could trust. I needed the one person I’d been avoiding.

Keeping my eyes glued to the ground, I approached Ragatha.

“Um… Ragatha? Can I go with you?”

She didn’t say a word, and kneeled down in front of me, her hands resting on the floor. I looked up to meet her eyes, and she gave a reassuring smile as if to say that this would all be on my own terms, and she wasn’t going to grab me.

I was still hesitant to even get near her, but she had a calm patience that the others didn’t. It was like she was willing to wait there for as long as it took until I was ready. In each passing moment I could feel my nerves ease just a little bit more, and finally, I took the first step onto her hand.

Due to her being a rag doll, Ragatha’s hands didn’t feel much different from the pillow I was sitting on earlier. I sat myself down, continuing to look up at her as she watched and waited.

“You okay?” She asked, her voice soft and warm. I simply nodded, and she continued to smile and wait. “Just let me know when you’re ready for me to stand up.”

I gave her another nod of approval, and she slowly stood up, holding me close to her for support, but not too tight to where I felt trapped. As she lifted me up, I could see the others looking on in surprise at how calm I seemed.

“Alright guys, I’ll be back in a bit.” Ragatha said as she turned to walk down the hallways where everyone’s rooms were.

As soon as we were far enough away from the group, I finally worked up the courage to speak again.

“I… thank you…”

She let out a content sigh as she continued walking.

“Hey, I’ve got your back.”

#giant/tiny #g/t #giant tiny #g/t writing #tadc g/t

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azukiel · 1 month

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Nightfall Heir Chapter 13

🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW

Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Kidnapping, Pregnancy and Childbirth

⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐

Summary: Two years have passed since the events surrounding the destruction of the Absolute. Baldur's Gate is slowly rebuilding itself from the rubble, and you and your companions have established yourselves within the city to help in its restoration.

You and your vampiric lover, Astarion, had been nigh inseparable since coming back together. Yet a certain turn of events saw to your kidnapping and then... to your unexpected pregnancy.

🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Astarion cantered to the barracks as the young officer had bid. As much as he despised having to be dragged away from your amorous embrace, the sooner he attended this matter, the sooner he would be home again to be folded into your embrace. He could already feel a stir in his loins at the thought of your lips wrapped around his cock again.

He trotted the horse into the main square in front of the barracks, where the giant oak and iron gates opened up to greet him, the officers and their subordinates saluting him. Astarion still struggled with receiving such respect, and as he dismounted, he tipped his head towards them. The officers saluted once more and made haste towards the enormous building where Lae‘zel and the Grand Duke waited.

Despite his aversion to formalities, Astarion felt compelled to display some decorum in the presence of Wyll. After all, the young human still held the position of his ‘supposed’ superior.

Lae‘zel emerged from an office and approached him in the main stone hall. “Ah, Astarion, just the fanged pointy-ears we wanted to see,” she greeted him with a smirk.

Astarion looked the female Gith up and down before replying, his expression somewhat perturbed. “Really, Lae’zel?”

Lae’zel snickered. She would never miss an opportunity to take a jab at Baldur’s Gate’s most revered vampiric magistrate. His usual reaction of irritation amused her, but today he seemed uninterested.

“No mood for amusement? Let’s cut to the chase then,” she said, unfazed.

They both walked in unison down the long corridor until they reached the doors of Ravengard’s office.

“Ah, Astarion!” Wyll greeted with his usual upbeat nature, his hand already extended towards the vampire. “Glad you could join us. How’s Tav?”

“I wouldn’t have left if she was not well,” Astarion stated plainly, shaking Wyll’s hand with a tight grip.

Wyll nodded as he cleared his throat. “No, of course not.”

“Besides, Halsin is taking care of her. Now, what is so dire that needs my attention?” Astarion began, his tone one of impatience. He already wanted to be at home with you. “I have a very horny wife that I’d much rather be servicing at the moment.”

Lae’zel smirked, and Wyll raised a brow. Wife?

Ravengard sighed heavily. “Your ‘dire’ situation has reared her ugly head again, my friend,” Wyll finally stated, leaning back against the oak table behind him.

The mood shifted from one of slight levity to one of strain as the weight of his words became clear.

Astarion could not help but exhale, and his face turned hard as the tension within him grew.

“Where?” His teeth gritted.

“The sewers. Fitting for the gutter rat she is.” Lae’zel answered. “A blood-trail has been left, one she intends for us to follow.”

“What was found?” Astarion continued his interrogation, his hands gripping the top of one of the chairs as he leant towards Lae’zel and the Grand Duke. His body tingled with an inner rage, but his face remained stoic and composed.

“Corpses. All with their faces skinned right off their skulls.” Wyll answered solemnly.

Astarion’s nose twitched with disgust. “Fitting,” he thought.

“Have you identified any of these corpses?” Astarion asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“By name? Not as yet. But they appear to be just normal folk. There is one thing that is bothersome, however…”

Astarion frowned. His brows furrowed with the intensity of his thoughts.

“... and that is that they all belong to one race.“

Now Astarion’s curiosity was piqued as he raised a brow.

“They’re all drow, Astarion.” Wyll finished the statement so Astarion could fully comprehend the true magnitude of their situation.

Astarion’s back straightened, and his whole body prickled with anger. Yes, it was very fitting. An apparent retaliation, an eye for an eye.

“Where are these bodies? Have they been brought to the morgue?”

“They are being transported there as we speak.” Lae’zel answered. “Karlach is escorting them there out of public view.”

The vampire nodded. “And of course I must investigate. I cannot give that faceless bitch any opportunity to lay harm upon Tavrin again.”

Wyll held his friend’s bicep as a show of solidarity. “It will be alright, Astarion. We will all keep Tav safe. Lae’zel and I will escort you to the sewers once the bodies are in the morgue.”

Astarion felt a lurch in his non-beating heart at Wyll’s assurance. This all seemed too surreal. After that vile wench eluded them, it appeared she would not abandon her chase after you and, thus, the child you were carrying.

Would she not give up? Was she so committed to destroying you? The Bhaalinist spawn and her followers must be extinguished forever.

The vampire shuddered. In a brief moment, his mind conjured up many scenarios where your life could have ended, each one burning his brain. As much as he would love to, he could not shield you entirely lest he kept you in proximity at every moment. Though that was not entirely a bad idea in his mind - you could spend your days in bed pleasuring and humping each other - he knew you would refuse to be caged like some bird.

“Very well.” Astarion closed his eyes as he returned the firm grip upon the younger male’s forearm. In that case, I’ll have to go home and let Tav know we won’t be having morning escapades anymore. However, I’m unsure if it’s wise to inform her of the reasons.

Wyll and Lae’zel exchanged glances. They were sceptical.

“Informing her is our best action, Astarion. She was in the thick of the dangers that surround us now, and she is as much a part of this investigation as the rest of us. She has a right to know.” Lae’zel spoke.

Wyll cleared his throat. “It is your call, Astarion. But I concur with Lae’zel. I believe keeping her fully informed would be a must.”

“And I, too, would normally agree. However, we have recently learned that Tav’s condition is a little more fragile than previously thought.”

The room fell silent once more.

“What do you mean?” Lae’zel demanded, her brows furrowing.

Astarion held his palm up to them, calming their eager ears. “She is with child.”

Wyll’s brows lifted to his hairline, and his jaw hung open as he tried to process his friend’s revelation.

“So I must balance the pressure of protecting Tavrin and ensuring she doesn’t crumble under the strain as well.” Astarion continued.

“Sh … she’s with child?” Wyll repeated, his disposition turning giddy, the corners of his lips curling into a boyish smile.

Astarion rolled his eyes and chuckled inwardly. Of course, Wyll would be elated for them.

“Who is with child?” Karlach burst through the doors with her usual buoyant demeanour. Her attire was dishevelled, her skin dusty, and she reeked of death, but she was as energetic as she always was. She looked at Astarion, her eyes widening as he watched her with a serious expression.

“What? No way! You can’t be serious! Is she really? Oh, by the gods!” She flung up her arms before clapping Astarion hard on the back with unrivalled enthusiasm.

He flinched from the pain and put his hands up to calm her down. “Now, now, Karlach. There’s no need to get so worked up.”

“How far long?”

Astarion sighed. “Just a few weeks.”

The fiery teifling grinned ear to ear.

Astarion firmly cautioned against widespread knowledge of Tavrin’s condition.

“Well, considering the circumstances now, I suppose you are right,” she pondered the matter.

“Can we tell Gale and Shadowheart and…?” Her excitement returned.

“Only those close to us,” Astarion warned.

“Of course, but... wait... how did you guys make a baby?”

Astarion raised a brow as Wyll chuckled, and Lae’zel rolled her eyes to the back of her skull in exasperation. “Don’t you know how babies are made?” She groaned.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, of course I do. But our fanged friend here is technically... well... dead!”

Astarion grimaced at the nickname he was often slapped with, but Wyll stepped in to his defence. Not like he needed it.

“Undead,” he corrected in a pragmatic tone. “But I am also curious, Astarion. I was not aware vampires could procreate.”

Astarion shrugged nonchalantly. “According to Halsin, we apparently can with other anthropoids, though it is a rare occurrence. A half-vampire is apparently called a Dhampir.”

“Well, congratulations soldier!” Karlach slapped him across the back cheerfully again, almost causing him to tumble. “I can’t wait to see Tav and congratulate her myself!”

“I’m sure she’ll look forward to it.” Astarion winced from the stinging in his back.

“Now that you’re here, I assume the bodies are in the morgue?”

“Ah, yeah, we used the tunnels to bring them in so that we wouldn’t have to cart the poor sods through the streets. I’ve stationed more guards around the area. Say the word and I’ll go back down there to flush the bitch out myself.”

Astarion crossed his arms tightly against his chest again, his expression solemn. “She’s probably gone from there by now. Consider the blood-trail as a forewarning of darker things ahead. Regardless, we shall scour every inch of the sewers and other underground tunnels for a trace. The scent of her blood is burned into my memory. I’ll locate her and rip her limb from limb. Even if it’s my last endeavor in this city.”

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #astarion daddy #Astarion as a daddy #Astarion and Tav have a child #Nightfall heir #bg3 #dadstarion #astarion x halsin x tav #astarion x dark urge #astarion my beloved #astarion x durge #astarion has a child with tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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nerdieforpedro · 13 days

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WIP Wednesday/Thursday

I was tagged by @secretelephanttattoo who's going to have an awesome Marcus Moreno fic coming soon. 🥰 Whoo hoo!

I highly recommend her Quiet Moments collection. 😎

My writing has been a bit off. Darker with angst and triggering themes. I'm trying to find any sort of fluff or levity. It's not happening mostly. I've almost finished a sort of fluffy Joel/Celeste drabble that could have been fluffier but is not. I dunno why. I'm actually in a pretty good mood. I was working on my April Showers challenge and...we'll need more work on it. I wanted to be happy. Anyway, preview time! 😆

Joel and Celeste:

“Just fine little brother. Where ya comin’ from? I haven’t done much today, ‘cept be somewhere at the wrong time.” Joel shrugged his shoulders and gave his brother a quick hug. Tommy patted Celeste’s head and she swatted at his arm.

“Ugh…Millers. You headed home Tommy?” Smoothing down her hair, she shook her head and looked toward the school again. Looked like he was right, and school was not letting out. She was considering heading home as well. “Tell Maria to make some tea for Joel when you get in.” She smirks and steps away, but Joel grabs the sleeve of her jacket.

A random Javier Peña x female reader one shot (I've been trying to do a Javi P series forever and it never seems right. So I figured trying to write the man would be good practice. I can't just let there be a happy Javier Peña story. 👀)

You lied right to your friend’s face and told him that you like her, she seemed very sweet, that you three should go out for drinks and that she’s beautiful. The last one wasn’t a lie, she was stunning. The rest of it you’re still unsure how you made it all drop from your mouth so easily. His eyes light up and Javier says something that is as sweet as it is a stab, “I’m glad you like her. I was worried you might not and then I’d have to wonder if she’s really right for me. You’re the best ángel.” You think you smiled and gave him a hug before going back to dealing with the ambassador issue. It’s a blur. Getting back to your office and stopping yourself from yelling took priority over before getting back on the phone.

I'm also trying work on my Ezra, Dieter and Javi G stories. One of these I'll make progress on I think. Maybe even my Lucian mini-series though that one is angsty.

NPT: @rhoorl @maggiemayhemnj @goodwithcheese @julesonrecord @604to647

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @i-own-loki

@avastrasposts @tinytinymenace @paulmescal-s @inept-the-magnificent @fhatbhabie

@ohforficsake @alltheglitterandtheroar @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @julesonrecord @djarinmuse

@lotusbxtch @schnarfer @spacecowboyhotch

And anyone else who wants to. 😆

#WIP #wip wednesday #WIP thursday #pedro pascal characters #javier pena fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #the writing has been weird #but good maybe?#I dunno

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hope-to-hell · 5 months

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Night Gardening. Loki x Möbius. Dreams are just the brain processing past events. They’re not real, even if his senses tell him otherwise. Right? Smut and purple prose out the wazoo.

———

Okay. Don’t break him. He can take so much more than you think but apply stress from a certain angle and he’ll shatter like— what’s that thing? Prince Rupert’s drop? Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the thing he saw once down in Engineering, crushed under a hydraulic press— only it wasn’t crushed. It disappeared, and when the press rose again it bore a hole in the shape of the drop. Glass stronger than steel, stronger than unstoppable force: it was strong, yes, but when Mobius held it in wondering hands he fumbled and it shattered— disintegrated— landing on its wispy tail and it was gone.

So he’s scared, you know? Reaching out means maybe getting what he wants, and maybe taking back a chilled and empty hand. He breathes out on a shudder and strains to hear Loki’s words through the haze of this dream, in this hollow in time carved out by sweat and tears and the iridescent shine of maybe it’ll be alright. Maybe I’ll wake up and

You’re wandering again.

There you are. I was afraid I’d be here all by my lonesome. Levity runs in Mobius’ veins; he can’t ever seem to get out ahead of it to find the words he needs to say and so he trails behind hoping the meaning comes through just the same.

If you were, you’d soon be unmade. And, okay,

Harsh. But listen. I know none of this is real, okay? I know you’re just something I’m making up while I sleep. But I still gotta ask. Are you alright? Ask stupid questions and get no answer. But he knows Loki well enough to clock the minute twitch of his jaw

(not alright, not for a long time, but there’s something on his mind and it’s more than just the Tree)

and how familiar are they that he can see it even here, in the flow of innumerable worlds? Okay, not the time. I get it. If ol’ tall dark and self-sacrificing over there wants to get something off his chest, he will— even if it’s coded in the flick of a finger or that way he has of shifting his weight just so. And anyway, this is a dream so Mobius can do whatever the hell he likes, right? He can even close the distance between them til he smells juniper and snow as he breathes Loki in deep. Easy, hoss. I should’ve done this when I had the chance.

And oh, if this is a dream then may he never wake up. If there is any justice left then let him remain here, half-draped over Loki with that clever tongue silenced, breathless— let him live out his days with this tremble in his thighs from trying so damn hard to keep himself in check. I used to know how to do this. I think. Doesn’t matter if he’s out of practice or if the angle is all wrong; all that matters is the way Loki strains to meet the kiss.

But for all his strength, Loki is bound in place: he is jailer and prisoner— no, that’s not right, he’s a conduit, a gardner— as infinite possibilities course electric through him and he cannot rise, cannot reach out, cannot pull Mobius down by the lapels and give him everything he never realized he could ask for. I— ah. I can’t— and please, please understand that Loki doesn’t bare his throat to just anyone. This is a gift. This is the pulse of artery and vein, of xylem, of phloem— yes, yes, somewhere in the distant unknown you passed a science class or two— and if they only get one chance at this, he’s gonna give it all he’s got.

And Mobius is so goddamned careful right up until the moment Loki nips at him, following sharp teeth with a lick that says I’d drink you up if I could.

Did you say that? Or did I?

Darling, does it matter? Oh. Oh, the word slips into his ear, past grey hair gone just a little shaggy, tip-tapping over his eardrums and hey, yeah, okay, he likes that. He likes that a lot. Mobius breathes in a single sharp breath and on the exhale pours himself down Loki’s throat: all of his being compressed into a single breath, tinged with salt spray and stubble-rough around the edges; it’s not nearly enough, but it’s all he has.

And Mobius shoots off in his pants like a damn teenager; he’s all spreading stickiness and it’s just too goddamned much but he isn’t finished yet. So he drops his head and threads one hand through Loki’s hair as the other is fumbling, searching for buttons, a zipper, anything— how do I get these open, did you forget that when you get the trousers on you’ve still gotta take them off—

Laces. There, just to your left and he’s in, nails catching at the knots; in his idle moments Mobius might’ve pictured this, but slower: maybe somewhere quiet outdoors with sunlight slipping lazily over his back, Loki’s hand closing over his— open your eyes. I want to see you— but this is worlds better; this is the ache between his shoulders and the drag of skin on skin; this is Mobius licking bitter salt from his palm and reaching for more; this moment does not crystallize but rather atomizes, drifting up and into the branches of the Tree.

Damn, I wish (I— we— could’ve found another way,) I mean, I want (more time. Why is there never enough time)— next time I’ll buy you dinner first. In the dream a little self-indulgence won’t go amiss; he can concentrate and maybe the next time he sleeps he’ll be able to come back and do this properly. Maybe he’ll follow the thread of this unraveling dream back to its beginning; to this place where he doesn’t have to hold so tightly to his memories, watching them fade out slowly til they’re just amorphous feelings. Maybe he'll stay a while and watch the ebb and flow of life through the branches of the Tree.

But the dream ends, as all dreams must; Mobius awakens with his head pillowed on one arm, the sleeve of his jacket pressing its imprint into his face; he breathes slow and quiet, rubbing his thumb across his first two fingers, listening hard for a fading whisper:

I tend to many worlds, but remember— the gods do play favorites, and I play for keeps.

#loki #loki series #lokius #loki x mobius #lokius fic #lokius smut #Loki x Möbius fic #Loki x Möbius smut #mcu

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frozenfischer · 10 months

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scientistredacted

Her touch is instantly grounding, and Gaster exhales slightly in relief. She’s here, and he’s here. He’s not just watching this through the haze of void, not interacting without actually being here. This is real. He wants very much to hold that hand, but he resists that urge, and fidgets with the end of his scarf to keep his hands busy. Left behind. He didn’t even have to actually say it. She just… knew. She has a remarkable way of figuring out how he feels before he could even begin to articulate it. ❝THE LACK OF CLOSURE IN MY LIFE,❞ he mutters bitterly, ❝DIDN’T EXACTLY START WITH THE VOID. THERE’S SO MUCH I’LL NEVER REALLY KNOW ABOUT FROM THE WAR…❞ Then again, did he ever move on past the war? While he managed to recontextualize Alex’s status as a mage to his feelings (he DID know kind mages in the past too; Asgore’s friend and…), and has managed to keep anxiety at work over being surrounded by so many humans to a minimum … has he ever left that tense, frightened mindset it instilled in him? Did he ever stop grieving what was? ❝I DON’T THINK I’M VERY GOOD AT LETTING GO.❞ The hug is a surprise, but one that he returns gratefully and immediately. He tries not to show his disappointment as she quickly pulls back, remarking on how tired he must be. ❝I DON’T KNOW THAT I SLEPT MORE THAN AN HOUR BEFORE…❞ he trails off, ❝I’M NOT REALLY FEELING IT YET THOUGH…GONE MUCH LONGER WITHOUT ANY…❞ He’s not even trying to make excuses this time. He’s still reorienting himself with feeling like this is real, and he’s all too used to being sleep deprived. So whilst he objectively knows he’s in dire need of some rest, it’s not registering for the way he feels. More than rest, more than something to eat, Gaster just wants to hold onto Alex and not let her go until every trace of the way the void makes him feel is gone. He follows her inside, nervously fiddling with his scarf again. ❝I GUESS I SHOULD HAVE JUST WOKEN YOU UP AFTER ALL,❞ he says attempting some levity, but a slight tremble to his voice gives his remaining… whatever this feeling is away, ❝IT WAS A VOID NIGHTMARE; I HADN’T WANTED TO DISTURB YOU, SO I WENT ON A WALK INSTEAD…❞

The returned hug prompted a soft sigh, relief flooding her that she hadn't further upset her friend with the unexpected touch. Then again, with the way he seemed to cling back almost immediately, perhaps it had been more welcomed than she'd feared?

That thought in mind, she offered her hand to Gaster, giving him another concerned frown.

“You haven't talked a lot about the war,” She observed quietly. “Outside of the fact that you were in it, and the fact that you have trauma regarding human mages because of it. Well, and also what happened prior to the war actually breaking out.” Mistral's death, in other words, though she was trying to put it more delicately.

Shaking her head, she glanced side-long at Gaster even as she gently guided him up the porch steps and towards the house. “I always assumed it had to have been pretty traumatic for you, so I didn't want to pry. I'm… I'm sorry that you were forced to endure that kind of thing, though. You didn't deserve it, I'm sure. None of you who lived through it did.”

How could they have, given the Monsters' reputation as being made of love, hope, and compassion?

Sighing, Alex guided Gaster to the living room, instead of dragging him up the stairs like she normally would have. “I know you say you don't feel like sleeping, but you should at least let yourself rest for a bit. I don't want to see you wear yourself out again.“

Her expression softened at Gaster's joke, and on impulse she reached out for another hug. “In that case,” she said even through the embrace, “you officially have my permission to come in and wake me in the future, should you have another nightmare, void or otherwise,” She assured him, giving him a small squeeze. “I promise not to get upset with you if you do. I'd rather be woken up so I can help, than for you to have to suffer alone.”

Caught by the earnestness of her own words, Alex cleared her throat, ignoring the heat rising to her face as she pulled back again. “Is… there anything I can do to help right now, at least?” she asked, hoping to help Gaster get more settled so that getting food and rest hopefully didn't seem so daunting a task.

#scientistredacted #💀 A Bonely Friend [Gaster] 💀#❄ The Frozen Heart [Post-Pacifist Verse] ❄#trying to fix my posting mistakes #don't mind me #also no icons because I honestly have very limited expressions #I need to draw Alex more

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arotechno · 6 months

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O. basilicum, part xii

And so, spring came at last to Verdigris. The frost melted, the trees bloomed, and the town traded its pallor for the lush green of new growth. The dreary cold went away, and with it went Ace, off to dig himself another grave—because what was the harm, really, in taking another shot at cheating death?

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I do.”

Basil kicked at the dirt with his good leg, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his trousers. Ace poked reverently at a newly sprouted bean plant.

“It’s just… What if you’re not ready?”

With a sigh, Ace straightened up from the garden bed.

“I’m ready, Basil. All healed up. I’ve got folks waiting up for me, and I don’t want to keep them worrying any longer than I already have.”

Please don’t go, Basil thought, I can’t lose you again. They’d kill you if they knew.

But Basil didn’t say any of that. What he said instead was:

“I know, just… Be careful, alright?”

In response, Ace smiled, like he knew what Basil meant anyway. He often did.

“I’ll do my best.”

They lapsed into silence again in the garden. The morning sun finally breached the treeline, dappling the hillside in shades of white and gold. Basil breathed deep and wrapped himself in the quiet moment, committing it to memory in case there was never another one like it.

Just in case.

* * *

What Basil was not expecting in the slightest was to open the front door a mere week or so later to find Ace shuddering on Frida’s doorstep, haggard and dirty, an old bow on his back, with a young girl of about twelve or thirteen at his side.

“Hey,” Ace said.

“Hey yourself.” Basil looked between them. “You know, when I said you’d be back, I didn’t mean right away.”

His attempt at levity went unappreciated. Ace looked at him, pained. Something had gone deeply, horribly wrong.

“Come in, both of you,” Basil insisted, opening the door wide. “Frida!”

Frida came hurrying into the hall from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Basil, dear, who’s at the—oh, gods above.”

“Hi, Frida,” Ace said. “This is Petra. She’s my friend—”

“Honorary sister,” the girl, Petra, interjected. Ace rolled his eyes, as if it were a private joke.

“Fine, sure, whatever.” Ace shuffled uncomfortably where he stood, while Frida just gaped at him. “She… we don’t have anywhere to go, anymore. Do you think you could—“

“Basil, keep an eye on that soup for me, will you? Come on, dear,” Frida said, guiding Petra by the shoulder toward the clinic. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Ace has told me so much about you.”

Petra went without argument, though she did look over her shoulder at Basil and Ace, eyeing the pair of them with a strange expression. Ace followed Basil silently into the kitchen and dropped into one of the chairs at the table. The air was fragrant with herbs and spices cooking in the large pot on the stove. Basil stirred it carefully with a wooden spoon, just for something to do.

He didn’t ask for an explanation. He wasn’t sure he needed one. It was clear the worst had happened, after all—the other shoe had finally dropped, and Ace was once again lucky to have escaped with his life.

“I should have gone back sooner,” Ace said hoarsely. “I could have—“

“There’s nothing you could have done.”

“They killed him. Bertrand’s dead, Basil. There wasn’t even a body left behind, just nothing but ash. If I’d been there, I could have surrendered—“

“They wouldn’t have spared him, Ace. You know they wouldn’t.”

Basil doled out a bowl of soup and placed it in front of Ace, who didn’t so much as reach for his spoon despite how hungry the journey must have made him. He sat motionless while Basil scooped out another helping and sat across from him, eyes searching. He, too, didn’t eat a single bite.

“Petra used to remind me of you,” Ace finally said, eyes crinkling with the admittance. “Optimistic. Headstrong. Not afraid of anything.”

“And now?”

“Now? Now all I see is my own grief. It was supposed to be different for her, Basil.” Ace frowned into his untouched soup, voice going soft. “I did this to her.”

In the silence that followed, Basil thought back to that first day, screaming himself hoarse in half-dead terror. He remembered the guilt, the sorrow, the many days spent unable to walk. Basil thought even further back, years before, to those peaceful days they’d spent together as children. That version of Basil had been long gone for quite some time now, and he wasn’t ever coming back. Optimism was a hard-earned burden he stubbornly carried, not a prize to be bartered for.

Before Basil could say anything of the sort, however, Petra came slinking back into the room with Frida on her heels, looking quite a bit less worse for wear than when they’d arrived. Her face was clean and her short-cropped hair smoothed out, with bandages plastered over the cuts that rogue branches and brambles had left on her skin. She peered at Ace knowingly, solemnly, as she sunk into the chair beside him, eyes roving over his sullen expression. Basil felt a kinship at that.

For his part, Ace was still hunched over his bowl, face and hands smeared with dirt and grime. He still needed to get cleaned up, once they got this situation sorted out. Basil would probably have to force him.

“You boys need to eat,” Frida chided softly, pouring soup for herself and Petra, who muttered a quiet thanks.

“I need to ask,” Basil said quietly. “Did anyone else make it?”

“I got mostly everyone out before the royal guard came,” Petra said. “But some folks didn’t want to leave. Bertrand…”

“Stubborn old man,” Ace muttered with subdued fondness.

“They got out,” Frida repeated. “I don’t know what you mean, dear. Where are they now?”

Petra looked up from her soup, eyes hard and pained, and said, “I don’t know.”

In that moment, Basil’s blood ran hot, and he thought he finally understood, after all these years, what it was that had kept Hank going, day after day. How long did this have to go on? How could anyone let this go on? But what could Basil do?

Ace had stumbled into something far greater than either of them, something on the level of kings. And what had that gotten him? Another abandoned home, more missing friends, another dead guardian? There were no heroes and villains, no monsters come alive from fairy tales. There were only two kinds of people: those with power, and those without. It was a simple answer, but then again, those were always the hardest to accept.

That night, long after the soup had gone cold and Petra had been set up with a cot in Frida’s bedroom, Basil kept Ace company on the front step, both of them too tired to sleep. The sky was clear, and full of stars, but no matter how much Basil tried, he couldn’t discern any meaningful pattern among them. After all these years, that was it—he was all out of answers.

“So,” he said. “What are you going to do now?”

Ace picked at a loose thread on his pant leg and shrugged.

“I can’t leave Petra behind like that again. She was all alone, waiting for me for months. She deserves a better life than that.”

“Then stay,” Basil said. “Stay for now, stay forever, I don’t mind. You know I’ll always be here.”

Ace chuckled. “I don’t know if she’ll be able to stay put like that for long.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about Petra?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ace said with a glare, though there wasn’t any heat behind it.

Basil leaned back on his palms, searching the sky.

“You should rest,” he said. “Live the best life you can, for yourselves. It’s simple, but it’s enough.”

Ace nodded, though his expression told Basil he wasn’t convinced.

“I’m going to sleep.” He pushed to his feet and made his way back inside. “Goodnight, Basil.”

“Goodnight.”

The screen door slammed shut, leaving Basil alone in the quiet night. He pulled his knife from his belt loop and turned it over in his palm. Moonlight glinted off the blade.

Basil kept his silent vigil well into the night, until the entire hillside fell quiet and even the crickets went to sleep. He kept one hand on the hilt of his blade all the while.

Just in case.

#HELL YEAH BABEY WE'RE BACK #this chapter took me months and it was like being flayed alive the whole time!!!!#this isn't even edited i just want it out of my sight!!!#o basilicum #the heartless #aro writing #writing #creative writing #op #long post

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timeagainreviews · 7 months

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The Monster Makeovers of Modern Who

With Halloween just around the corner, I thought I would get back into the swing of things and talk about some monsters! No, not Rishi Sunak. Of course, I mean the monsters we actually enjoy! Daleks! Cybermen! And other horrors from the beyond that don’t try and turn trans people into scapegoats for their lack of policy. They say what you really mean- EXTERMINATE! Honesty, transparency, efficiency. Words so alien these days they belong only in Doctor Who! Mr Sunak, you’re so vain. You probably think this blog is about you. But it’s really about fashion. Specifically- makeovers!

I’ve been interested in filmmaking ever since Levar Burton took us to the set of Star Trek on Reading Rainbow. Like Doctor Who, “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” had its own makeover to attempt. They needed to establish a new look from the original series, while still implying continuity. Whole teams came together to reimagine the look of the ship’s interior, the look of the aliens, both classic and new, and even how the characters should dress. It’s truly inspiring to see these crews at work. These passionate people did their best with the available budget and resources. That said, I plan to deconstruct some of the makeovers of modern Doctor Who villains on an aesthetic and (at times) narrative level. It’s just a bit of levity for the horrors of Halloween, so let’s have some fun.

While the topic of updating classic baddies remains subjective, I’d like to think I’ve highlighted ways in which it can be objective. There are no hard rules to the process, but perhaps there are guidelines. I’ve noted a list of classic Doctor Who monsters that have since returned in the new series to discuss which designs I feel were successful and which ones missed the mark. Some of the criticisms I express will already be known to you. The Paradigm Daleks were notoriously reviled amongst fans. But hopefully. some of my opinions may surprise you. I’ve decided to exclude certain redesigns like the Movellans due to their lack of screen time. And while the Ood and Minotaur are cousins of the Sensorites and Nimon respectively, they’re technically not a proper redesign. I will however be covering the cousins of the Silurians- Homo-Reptilia, as they are very much meant to serve the same purpose. I’m presenting this list in alphabetical order, but some creatures will be listed together as a subspecies of another. Buckle up because this is going to be a long one!

Autons

As a child growing up in 90s Kansas, one of my favourite places to visit was the mall. The mall my grandpa used to take me to was known for its extravagant features. One of my favourite things, however, was a clothing store that used mannequins that interacted with the space around them. I don’t mean they moved, but rather that they were dynamically posed. My favourite leaned against the shop window with the palm of its hand. I had never seen that sort of display before. It made them feel as though they were merging into the real world. They were hip if not a touch creepy. I couldn’t tell you the name of the store, but I remember those mannequins. And aside from a granite finish, they looked like the Autons from 2005’s debut episode “Rose.”

Had the Autons returned looking like 70’s mannequins, they would still look creepy. But it would evoke more of a kitschy retro shop than something from a London high street. The creepiness of the Autons isn’t anachronistic, but rather in being timely. The less we notice them, the better. They wear their mundanity like a tiger wears stripes. You only noticed it move when it’s ready. This is a roundabout way for me to say they are brilliantly redesigned. They look modern, and you wouldn’t even notice them if you weren’t predisposed to Doctor Who. They’re exactly the featureless dummy you expect to see in a shop window. The moment their hand gun opens, you would be taken by complete surprise.

A benefit of the Autons coming first alphabetically is that it allows me an opportunity early on to address performance. Because like they say- looks aren’t everything. A Doctor Who baddie is so much more than a costume. And a minor sticking point for me is that the Autons can seem as though they hired a bunch of pop-lockers to stand around in sweaty suits. I’m reminded of the movie theatre scene from “Human Traffic,” where the employees mechanically go about their work. It’s a small grievance, but I wish they would have created a less familiar form of movement than the robot. They’re a hivemind and yet each dancer is doing their own form of popping. I know it costs time and money to do, but it would have been cool to see those dancers come up with a more alien system of movement. It’s not as though the ballet dancers chosen to portray the Weeping Angels were performing pirouettes.

This problem persisted into the Moffat era with Roman Autons. While they were under the impression that they were human, they moved about and spoke like humans. But the moment the Nestine consciousness takes root, their bodies move into a sort of robotic marching. Suddenly whirring can be heard from alien actuators and servos that make no sense for living plastic. Once again, it feels as though they would rather speak in a familiar voice of filmmaking than create one. We all know that little android sounds and robotic movements mean they’re mindless automatons, hell it’s the root of Auton. But the idea of living plastic is so much weirder than a robot. I would love to see them lean more into that.

Cybermen/Cybermats/10th Planet Cybermen

Having started my foray into Doctor Who with Paul McGann and then moving on to the 2005 series, most of the baddies on this list were brand new to me. When I did finally work my way to classic Doctor Who, I was a bit surprised to find the early Cybermen leaned more into the “men,” aspect of their name. Not only were they more articulate than repeating “Delete,” ad nauseum, but their bodies were less robotic. They moved like men. The Cybermen may be the first time I looked at a Doctor Who villain and thought “Oh the old versions were much better.”

This isn’t to say that I disliked the RTD Cybermen, but rather, I find classic Cybermen more effective. While the Cybus Cybermen felt dangerous and militaristic, they lack the humanity present in the Tenth Planet Cybermen. They remind me of the zombies from Return of the Living Dead- they’re smarter, faster, and they feel like the reanimated body of a dead person. You do get glimpses of this in these Cybermen, like in “The Pandorica Opens,” where you see a Cyberhead open to reveal a rotting human skull. The glimpses of the conversion process also imply a deeper dread of body horror.

I would argue that the Moffat era understood the walking dead aspect of the Cybermen better than the Davies era. In “Dark Water/Death in Heaven,” Moffat even pays homage to Return of the Living Dead by reanimating a graveyard of corpses with tainted rain. By this time, the look of the Cybermen had been streamlined from their Cybus look to their svelt “Nightmare in Silver,” look. I liked this redesign as it reminded me of the 80’s Cybermen with their silver space boots. They look more like men than robots. This slimmed-down look was realised even further in the Chibnall era, while also going for a more classic head style. As much as that era of the show disappointed me, its Cybermen were fantastic.

Not every Cyberman update aimed to reinvent their look, however. The updated look for the Tenth Planet Cybermen in “World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls,” merely added detail to their original appearance. Much like the Type 40 TARDIS the 12th Doctor steals from Gallifrey, the idea was to modernise the look for the high-definition cameras of the modern age. Because of this, these Cybermen may be my favourite of the modern era. It was a risky choice to change their bare hands to flesh-tone gloves, but I understand the decision. I had always liked that the Tenth Planet Cybermen’s hands were bare skin. Historically, hands are one of the hardest things to reproduce in robotics. It also felt that the Cybermen’s hands were the last remaining vestige of their humanity. None of this is lost with the inclusion of gloves. These Cybermen are a nightmare to behold. They languish in physical pain, calling out for solace. The conversion process is still traumatic and bloody. They are horrific.

Another element of the Cybermen that was updated for the new series were the Cybermats. The look of the Cybermats, much like the Cybermen, has always changed, so it’s hard to feel too precious about a redesign. And their appearance in “Closing Time,” is no different. I’ve always liked the look of the modern Cybermat. Their eye shape is a pleasing nod to the Cybermen’s eyes while also calling back to their original appearance. Their segmented tails give an armoured appearance which evokes small creatures like armadillos and insects. My only real complaint about these little munchers would be their very organic teeth. I always figured the “mat” part of their name was meant to be a play on “rat,” so if you were to give them teeth at all, why not rat teeth? What tiny creature was converted to make these little abominations? In the classic series, I never really thought of Cybermats having anything organic about them. You could argue that the Cybermats from “Revenge of the Cybermen,” were snakelike, but I never really thought of them as organic. Regardless, I’m now trolling eBay for one of the 1:1 replicas they sold.

Daleks/Davros

Before their return in 2005, the Daleks made the briefest of cameos in the 1996 Doctor Who TV Movie, sort of. Since we only ever hear their voices, we have no idea what the Daleks would have looked like. Judging by those voices, it’s safe to say they probably would have been a bit of a departure from their general appearance throughout classic Doctor Who. Especially when you consider that adaptations in the ‘90s were known to go for new extremes in design. That’s not to say they would have been bad. The Eighth Doctor’s cathedral-like TARDIS interior was a far cry from the brightly lit round things of the ‘80s TARDISes, and it’s probably my favourite interior. But there is no denying it would be challenging to redesign the universe’s most iconic monsters.

By this measure, I consider the black and bronze Daleks of the RTD era to be a stonking success. Their redesign is mostly effective because it doesn’t aim to reinvent the wheel. It maintains the overall silhouette of the Dalek in a way that makes it immediately recognisable. The changes we do see feel utilitarian, lending these Daleks a tanky quality. You can imagine these Daleks as a product of war. They’re reinforced for battle and feel powerful. Honestly, zero notes. I can’t find a single area for improvement. They even look good in other colours and attachments. Even the mutant inside the casing was given some much-needed continuity in appearance. Where the mutant of the classic series often changed in appearance, it’s now established that Daleks are one-eyed brain squids under all that metal. Simple as can be. No need to change anything.

Enter the Paradigm Daleks. As I said above, the Paradigm Daleks aren’t exactly well-received by the fandom, and not without good reason. I’ve seen at least four different Mighty Morphin’ Power Daleks mash-ups of their big reveal in “Victory of the Daleks.” But is being a big colourful hate machine that bad? I will admit, their silhouette is a bit chonky, giving them bumble-bee bums. But their eye stalks look lethal and their voice modulation fills me with dread down to my stomach. The creepy goat eye nestled in the end of an eyestalk that looks like it would cut to the touch is a great change. I also really like the idea of them having different roles indicated by colour rank. What the hell is an Eternal Dalek? I still want to know.

The biggest issue with the Paradigm Dalek redesign is that unlike it’s predecessor, it seems to miss what is actually scary about Daleks. For starters, Daleks have no concept of elegance, so why the clean lines on the casing? Those neck louvres (that’s what I’m calling them), are far too stylised. Gone is their tank-like appearance, save for their brutal eyestalks. They made them taller as to appear more formidable, which further bolsters why they miss the mark. If you can’t make an hate-filled monster covered in armour scary, the problem isn’t height, it’s writing. Also, we stan a short king in this house.

It’s hard to take the Chibnall-era Dalek redesigns too seriously, because neither of them ever felt like they were meant to be permanent. One was meant to look like a Dalek made of scrap metal, because it was, while the other was the bi-product of two evil forces- the Daleks and the Tories. The “Revolution” Daleks do look a bit like a bootleg toy of a Dalek you could win at a fun fair. Or the result of an AI prompt for the word Dalek. Regardless, they’re fit for purpose and don’t affect my opinion one way or the other. If they had stuck around, I may feel a bit different.

Not to be excluded from the redesign process is the Daleks’ crazed creator- Davros. By the end of the classic era, Davros had a bit of a Rickety Cricket thing going where every time we see him, he’s progressively more mutilated. In the end, he was just a Futurama-style head in a jar. The Davros of the new series is back to a more classic silhouette. His one arm has returned as a cybernetic limb, while the other remains suspiciously under his keyboard. Typing one-handed eh Dave? He’s been given some gimp leather to wear, and his chair has taken on the same armoured look of the Davies Daleks. Much like the mutant inside the casing, Davros has been given a baseline appearance and it's an effective one. Couple that with Julian Bleach’s perfect performance, and you’ve got another success.

Ice Warriors

Who doesn’t love a good Ice Warrior? They’re forever cool (no pun intended). While not always villainous, they are fierce and formidable. They’re also a bit weird. The original Ice Warriors stood taller than your average Doctor Who alien. And there is something about their deep green carapace that feels believable. These battle-hardened reptiles wore their outer shells like armour. At the joints of these plated segments sprang tufts of fur. From a costuming perspective, these patches would have been used to hide seams and add points of visual interest for the average black-and-white television. From a narrative perspective, the hair only added to their weirdness. In short, I like the classic Ice Warriors very much.

The Ice Warriors are also the first classic baddie redesign I had to wait to see. By the time I had started watching Doctor Who, Matt Smith was filming series six. The Ice Warriors don’t make their return until series seven, which gave me ample opportunity to imagine what they would look like. What we got was bang on what I had hoped for. They leaned into the weird and won in a big way. When “Cold War,” aired, there was a bit of contention about the reveal of an Ice Warrior outside of its armour. Perhaps it’s because their helmets possess a sort of Judge Dredd quality that in turn causes people to think you can’t show Ice Warriors without their helmets. But they’re going full Stallone and it’s fine. Dare I say it’s even a bit cool?

A sticking point for me on the redesign was the lack of their stupid Lego Minifigure hands, which I love. But when you see their long skinny fingers reaching with their claws out, you might need to give the suit some fingers as well. Their reptilian aspects are also celebrated in their redesign. The Empress is a ferocious take on the look of the commander rank Ice Warriors. I said in my review of “Empress of Mars,” that the guns that turn people into cubes were a bit silly, and I still feel that way. And sure, I would have appreciated the odd "Ssss," at the beginning of an S word. But in the end, they allowed the Ice Warriors to shine for what they are, and that’s all that matters.

The Macra

One of my least favourite Pokémon designs is Raichu. You have Pikachu, an almost perfect marriage of form and cuteness. How do you improve on such a design? You can’t. This is why Raichu’s little curly-Q ear tufts and embellished lines look less like an evolution, and more like someone who didn’t know how to stop drawing Pikachu. Or when to stop spelling bananana. You just can’t improve on perfection. Now you’re probably wondering two things right now-

Why the drive-by on Raichu?

What does this have to do with the Macra?

To answer the second question- “absolutely nothing.” And that’s the point. There was no perfection to mess up in the case of the Macra. The originals looked like a pile of playground equipment. The only place to go was up. First order on the list- does it look like a giant crab? Yes. List over.

Changing the Macra by devolving them into dumb beasts only adds to this winning revamp. Why were they at the bottom of the motorway of New New York? Had their nefarious plot backfired reducing them to mere monsters? It’s a great little incorporation of characters lesser showrunners would have called "embarrassing." I love the Macra. I love that they didn’t overdo the Macra. I love that they don’t tell us everything. Whatever crab rave they had going on down there will be lost to time. Or until Big Finish takes a crack at it.

The Mara

I will admit, this one is a bit of a cheat. It’s one of two on this list that you may think of as a cheat. But hey, they brought the Mara back in the web short “The Passenger,” for the season 20 Blu-ray release. I’m counting it! I’m also counting it because the Mara have been updated not once, but twice to a modern CGI standard. Plus it gives me a chance to talk about “Snakedance,” which I will always relish.

The practice of replacing old footage with newer CGI is not without its detractors. George Lucas released the special edition of the original Star Wars trilogy in 1997 and people are still arguing about it. I’m in two minds about it myself. I like some of the changes they’ve made to Star Wars, ‘60s Star Trek, and even Doctor Who. I dream of the day when they take a crack at Babylon 5. But it also has its limitations. I would be upset if they updated the model shots of Scaroth’s ship in “City of Death.” But in the case of a goofy pink snake puppet? Fine by me.

That is not to say I don’t find the snake puppets of both “Kinda,” and “Snakedance,” charming. They certainly are. But they’re also so very distracting. There’s the suspension of disbelief and then there’s the stifling of laughter. If you can get past the snake, you will see both “Kinda,” and “Snakedance,” for what they are- some of the best of Classic Doctor Who. The CGI snake does exactly that and nothing more. It’s not even a fancy CGI model. Someone probably downloaded a rattlesnake asset and coloured it pink, and that’s absolutely fine. It’s another Macra situation. Does it look more “snake,” than “snek?” Yes. List over.

The Nestine Consciousness

In the words of Vito Corleone- “Look how they massacred my boy!” Ok, maybe massacred is a bit harsh. But even by series one standards, that CGI pool of molten plastic is pretty damn awful. I say this with a handful of caveats. Yes, this was essentially a pilot for the relaunch of the series. Yes, the production crew was brand new. No, the budget wasn’t huge. You could probably list more reasons, but my point is made. They did their best.

I don’t need to ask why an amorphous blob was easier to depict than a giant space squid. Hell, it was too expensive in the '70s. We only ever saw it’s tentacles back then! I had to use Andrew Skilleter’s illustration from the Target novelisation of “Terror of the Autons.” Mostly because the show never shows the entire squid and also because Skilleter owns! But the kid who grew up on ‘90s Nickelodeon and Beetlejuice in me will never think of a pool of goo as an upgrade from a space squid. It’s just not gonna happen.

As returning readers may have noticed, in the “rad vs. trad,” debate, I have always sided with rad. I like Doctor Who a bit weird. So weird that I am arguing that something is weirder than a glowing vat of sentient plastic. But here I am. The beauty is that RTD explained the change as a devolved form of the Nestine Consciousness. Maybe it was temporary. The squid may return yet! Furthermore, Doctor Who audiences have been watching Talking Tree and Raccoon movies in the intervening years. People are more open to weird these days. Add a bigger budget and we may see the comeback of the cosmic cephalopod!

Rutans

This is the other entry on this list that you may feel is a bit of a cheat. The above illustration on the right comes from an official Doctor Who video game titled “The Gunpowder Plot.” It is a redesign of the Rutan Host for the Matt Smith era. Seeing as their new design is meant to represent the style of the modern series, I’m counting it.

As redesigns go, this one had a lot of wiggle room. Usually only mentioned by name, the only time we ever got to see a Rutan onscreen was “The Horror of Fang Rock.” Throughout most of the story, the Rutan looks like a quenelle of green jelly sloughing slowly up the stairs of a lighthouse. When I was five, my trip to Cocoa Beach was cut short due to an outbreak of jellyfish. The one I almost stepped on with my bare foot looked a lot like that. It’s not hard for me to imagine a little green blob as dangerous.

It feels almost too perfect then that the Rutan redesign would land somewhere in the vicinity of a jellyfish. While they are capable of shapeshifting, tentacles do add to their base physical prowess. You can imagine one of them holding their own against a Sontaran. You can imagine one wrapped around one of their potato noggins and it being lights out. Whoever worked on that game has done the show a favour if they ever bring the Rutans back. Green electric jellyfish will do just fine.

Sea Devils

Back when I reviewed “Legend of the Sea Devils,” I mused that it followed the tradition of Sea Devils stories being “not very interesting.” So it came as a bit of a shock to me back in June when Doctor Who Magazine readers ranked it the eighth-best story of the Pertwee era. What were they seeing that I wasn’t? Because by my standards, it’s about two episodes too long. My thought is that people love it mainly for two reasons- cool vehicles and the Sea Devils themselves. Much like the St Paul’s Cathedral shot from “The Invasion,” the shot of the Sea Devils emerging from the sea is doing most of the heavy lifting. Such is the legacy of effective imagery.

The element of the Sea Devils’ look that has aged the poorest has to be their netted tunics. They look dingy and cheap. I imagine on some level, they helped, as Adam Savage would say, “hide the crimes,” of the costume department. The costumes weren’t playing on camera so maybe they added the netting. I’m just speculating here. After all, their cousins, the SIlurians, walked around in the buff. The next time we see the Sea Devils in “Warriors of the Deep,” they’re decked out in a sort of Samauri attire. Just because they lived underwater doesn’t mean the Sea Devils were unaffected by Feudal Japan. Nobody seems to have cared about this change in costuming. Or perhaps they were busy recoiling from the Myrka. The Silurians remained true to their nudist lifestyle.

Other than the Daleks and the Weeping Angels with Paul Dano’s face of the Chibnall era, I rather liked most of its character redesigns. I particularly liked the Sea Devils. I like that they kept their big fishy eyes and turtle beaks. And did you catch that adorable Baby Sea Devil from “Defenders of Earth?” That thing looks like a cross between Grogu and my own pet tortoise and I would kill for it. Like the Dalek update of the Davies era, they kept the silhouette intact and simply gave it a more believable appearance. Are the eyes a bit more cartoony? Yes. Is that fantastic? Also yes.

The major change to the look of the Sea Devils are their costumes. They’re a sort of mash-up of Asian influences with little references to the netting of their first appearance. If you’re a big fan of the Sea Devils, I think it would be hard to complain about their appearance here. Their bismuth-encrusted swords are a nice addition (just don’t let them touch your skin). You can imagine them as swashbuckling monsters who once ruled the sea. Now if only someone could come along and give them a proper adventure to star in!

Silurians

Much like the Royal Family, Doctor Who writers get a lot of leeway out of the word “cousin.” It covers a multitude of sins. Such is the case when dealing with the Silurians and their cousins- Homoreptila. It’s a blink-and-you-miss-it line of dialogue that I unfortunately missed the first time around. I was too busy blinking in disbelief at how depressing Broadchurch with lizards could be. It wasn’t until revisiting the two-part story “The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood,” that I finally heard the line explaining the discrepancy.

Why that matters is that it’s the reason I had a two-year chip on my shoulder about the Silurian redesign. This isn’t to say I thought they looked bad. The makeup job on the modern Silurians is very good. They just don’t look like Silurians. It bothered me because one of the things I liked about Doctor Who is that it often set itself apart from Star Trek. Star Trek aliens are more often than not- rather humanoid. This has always felt like a storytelling device more than anything. Less makeup equals more of the actor’s performance shining through. Doctor Who, on the other hand, asks its viewers to see something relatable in something inhuman. You can still make this complaint against “The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood,” because it does feel like they wanted you to see the human inside the Silurian costume. They couldn’t resist the Spielbergian desire to give the lizards soulful human eyes.

Any design change seems to stem directly from this need, so it feels difficult to judge them otherwise. Even their dehumanising masks were more of a measure to save money on facial prosthetics, though they do add an air of mystery. Those black-eyed masks were downright exciting until they took them off to reveal a very human face. Had they gone with those masks as their faces, I might have been able to overlook the exclusion of their third eye. It would have been very easy to modernise as well. Many reptiles and amphibians have what is known as a parietal eye on top of their heads. They can even sense fluctuations in light. Incorporating one into the design would have been very easy. That said, the ridges on their heads are in keeping with their original design and very striking. Especially on Madame Vastra.

Along with their masks, these Silurians are different in that they are no longer nudists. They now wear clothes. It makes sense that they did this. Their new humanoid appearance makes clothing essential. No need to adapt “The Lusty Argonian Maid,” for television. The costumes aren’t bad either. The netting feels like yet another call-back to their other cousins- the Sea Devils. Even their new guns do a good job echoing the disc-shaped guns the Sea Devils carried but with the aesthetics of the modern era. All in all, this redesign is fine, but I still yearn to see a proper Silurian in the modern style.

Sontarans

Tumblr user “zagreus-eats-your-bread,” once said of the Chibnall era Sontarans- “Big fan of the redesign. They finally look like absolute shit again. He looks like a knee.” While to some, that sounds like faint praise, I couldn’t agree with their sentiment more. The Sontarans looked awful in classic Doctor Who and I love them for that. There was something unsettling about the way Linx’s tongue would pulsate in “The Time Warrior.” The whiskers poking from his brow and mottled face only added to his vile appearance. His helmet towered over others as he sized them up. A striking foe if there ever was one.

It’s odd then, that the Davies era decided to make the Sontarans squat in stature. They even explain that it is due to the high gravity of Sontar that they’re so short. Their bodies developed for load-bearing. It made sense narratively and wasn’t really a problem. Like I said above- we stan a short king. The problems arose sometime in the Moffat era. The Sontarans had gone from dynamite in a small package to comic relief. I hesitate to blame Strax, but he is when this started to happen.

Cynicism is likely the cause. Writers looked at the Sontarans and said “Ha, potato head and a short body!” One of the fiercest races in Doctor Who history was reduced to an army too stupid to realise that an invisible tank left them completely visible inside. It’s like when people think of the Daleks as embarrassing because they look like pepper pots and completely ignore the fact that they’re also genocidal maniacs. This is why I appreciated Chris Chibnall’s desire to add some ferocity back into the Sontarans. Their stature had returned to that of the classic look, which is fine. Unlike the Daleks, there was a precedent for a tall Sontaran. And yes, they looked like shit again. We could see the Sontarans as a threat once more. Oh, they’re stuck in an off-license eating chocolate like Augustus Gloop? Oh. Right.

Time Lords

I hemmed and hawed about whether I should include these guys or not. Do I add the Master while I’m at it? But in the end, many Time Lords are monsters and they too received a makeover. Though it isn’t much of one. In fact, I once read that aspects of their costumes were reused from the classic series. You could argue that their biggest redesign happened somewhere between their first appearance in “The War Games,” and “The Deadly Assassin.” They started out looking like a cult that formed in the basement of an Apple Store. But somewhere along the line, they got seriously into collars. It was the ‘70s after all. People’s shirts were 30% collar back then.

Sadly, while the overall look of the ‘70s Time Lords carried on into the modern era, they abandoned their love for colour. Rassilon being the Regina George of Time Lord society decided that we only wear red on Wednesdays. And seeing as they’re time travellers, it’s always Wednesday somewhere! So the Time Lords left their saffron and purple robes at the cleaners. Even the citizens of Gallifrey are shown in “The Day of the Doctor,” wearing variations of red and white. Everyone fell in line and fashion suffered.

When we see the Time Lords in “The Timeless Children,” they’re now wearing very stylish Cyberman headgear. Their red hoods have now been replaced with gold numbers laser-cut with Gallifreyan writing. I would call it a fashion breakthrough if not for the fact that everyone was still decked out in drab silver. I don’t want to see the Time Lords again until they take a page from the Fifteenth Doctor’s book and learn to diversify their wardrobe. Yas hunty! Werk!

Zygons

If you’ve not been to Neil Cole’s Museum of Classic Sci-fi in Hexham, you should do yourself a favour and change that. It’s a great day out, and if you’re lucky, Neil might even be available to chat. Something I learned when talking to Neil is that he has some rather strong opinions about the redesign of the Zygons. Primarily, their head shape. Throughout this article, I’ve praised some of the redesigns for their adherence to the basic silhouette of the baddies. If you were to show me either version of a Zygon in a silhouette I would identify them both as Zygons, but dammit Neil, you’re right. The head just isn’t right.

Initially, I thought it was the mouth shape, which is definitely different. When they redesigned the Zygons for “The Day of the Doctor,” my thought was “What happened to their kitty cat faces?” You may not see it, but I have always looked at classic Zygons and thought “Aw, there’s a Mister Kitty!” And they replaced their little button nose and philtrum with a set of far more human features. Seriously Moffat, what is it with you? They’re aliens! Let orange squid men covered in suckers have cat faces!

The top-heavy ridge of their heads gave them a sort of lumbering look, which may have been the impetus to change them. The Zygons of the 50th anniversary needed to do a fair bit of running. But it also detracts from the iconic lines that made them so striking back in 1975. Below the neck, the design choices make a lot of sense. Like the Ice Warriors, the goal seemed to be to add more texture and detail. The ribs seem more defined as do the suckers. Even their bio-tech devices are appropriately slimy and detailed. When they find Kate Stewart in that purple bubbly skin poncho, none of us are offering to trade places with her. Unless that’s your thing. Don’t let me yuck your yum.

My main qualm with the modern Zygon is less with their design and more with their physiology. The Zygons have always been squidgy shapeshifters. But since when do they turn people into smouldering balls of staticky hair? They tried to explain that this was a new development of technology, so why is one of the refugee Zygons able to use it on himself? It’s not as though the Zygon’s body is not already teeming with venomous stingers. If you’ve ever read Mark Morris’ “The Bodysnatchers,” you’ll know exactly what I mean. Mark does such a good job delving into the physiology of the Zygons that he set the standard by which I judge all future Zygon depictions. It’s seriously great stuff.

Aaaaand we're done! Phew! This one took a long time for me to write. I wanted to return with a bit of a long one because I haven't written anything in a while. My sister came to visit from July to August, so I had been very busy. Then I got ill, yadda yadda yadda. Expect to see more of me soon as I plan to cover the 60th Anniversary Specials and beyond. I may even review some classic Doctor Who in the meantime! Stay safe and take care!

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