#and the rest was more a reflection on his own self-loathing than it was about him misunderstanding Kazuma.

[lassieposting]

I like to think that once things have settled down post-game, Tav will start addressing Astarion's critically low self-everything issues.

Like, this man's obnoxious, vain exterior is a paper-thin sheet of ice over a bottomless lake of insecurities and negative self-talk, and we see that the whole way through the game. He's been taught to believe that his only value is in his body. He'll bitterly call sex the only thing he's good for. He's shocked if you dump another companion for him, because he sees himself as having nothing to offer but baggage. He knows, in an abstract way, that he's attractive, but he doesn't remember what he looks like.

Perhaps one evening he asks what they see in him, and when they ask what he thinks their answer will be, he's stumped by the question.

And Tav decides it's past time to do something about that, because there is so much about him that is worthy of love.

Consider: Astarion rolling out of bed at like noon, padding naked to the bathroom to wash and style his hair, and catching sight of something tucked into the frame of the mirror. It's a sketch of him, one of Tav's, and beside it, they've scrawled the words you're beautiful. He grins, and traces the charcoal strokes with a fingertip while he brushes his teeth, because that's not a difficult one to believe, and he's touched.

But then he starts finding more little sketches, and more little notes. When he reaches for the book he's been reading, there's one tucked into the page he's dog-eared - a little caricature of himself, curled up in an armchair reading a giant book, captioned you're clever. He snorts a laugh, a little self-deprecating. Loathe as he is to admit it, he's no Gale, and he has brain fog more often than not. But...well, he did graduate law school and pass the bar once upon a time, so technically they're not wrong.

You're brave is resting on his pillow when he comes back from splashing his face in the bathroom one night, still trembling from a nightmare. His eyes well up when he spots it, and when he crawls into open arms and buries his face in Tav's clavicle he mumbles that he doesn't feel very brave at all. That's a hard one to accept, but they will keep telling him.

You care about me... is simply sitting on a dresser one day. Two little drawings with that one; in the first, he's bandaging a cartoonish bump on Tav's head. On the back, though...he recognises that image, Tav tied up and spitting rage at him through the night, lost to their Urges, as he kept watch. In smaller letters, his own words are reflected back at him: ...even when that's an objectively stupid thing to do.

You never gave up is in the medical kit kept under the bed, the one stocked with salves and oils for the bone-deep ache of two hundred years of consistent injuries. Tav will rub his shoulders for him if he asks, he knows that. But, well, two centuries of hiding any sign of weakness makes for a tough habit to break. He touches the reminder gently, as though it's fragile, and after a moment's hesitation, calls them in for help.

And on and on they go, dozens of little notes, a tangible list of things they love about him. Repeated, sometimes, some more than others, as and when he needs to be reminded of them. Often accompanied by little drawings that make him laugh or snort or cry - snapshots at how Tav sees him. His ridiculous bedhead. His unflattering blood-drunk expression, gawking into the middle distance, utterly lost in the sauce. The way his ears will sometimes twitch in his sleep. The Sexy Side-Lean pose he didn't realise he tends to do in doorways. His dramatic readings of appalling erotica.

And gradually, he begins to believe them.

[theostrophywife]

CHAPTER FOUR

home | chapters | playlist

🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: wonder by shawn mendes.

🤍 author’s note: you don't want to miss this one 😏

Step 4 of Pansy Parkinson’s Perfect Plan of Plotting

One Bed — : A narrative device used primarily in romance and romantic comedy genres, where two characters, typically with a burgeoning romantic tension, are forced to share a single bed.

The halfway point. So far, we’re four days in and my devious schemes are already proving fruitful. The tension between Theo and Y/N has been off the charts lately, but it just needs one final little push. After my minion informed me that Theo has been cheating the system by sleeping on the couch, it’s time to take away that barrier once and for all. 

Fourth Year, Slytherin Dormitories

“I look ridiculous,” you murmured at your reflection. 

“Ridiculously hot,” Pansy corrected. 

Behind you, she curled a section of your hair with her wand, letting it fall in soft tendrils while you fretted in front of the mirror. Tonight was the night. Ever since the start of term, the Yule Ball was all anyone could talk about. At first, you were just as excited as the rest of your classmates, but the closer it got, the more anxious you felt. 

You swallowed thickly, wondering why in the bloody hell you allowed Pansy to rope you into buying this dress. Examining your reflection, you smoothed down the front of the baby blue ball gown, fingers trailing over the plunging neckline delicately covered in white lace.

The dress was a lot more daring than anything in your wardrobe, but Pansy insisted. She was convinced that it was perfect for you, but you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. The ball gown certainly left little to the imagination. It cinched your waist like a lover’s embrace, the blue fabric resting right above your left thigh in a high slit that accentuated your legs before flowing into a dreamy tulle train. Still, you couldn’t deny that it was beautiful. 

“This dress was made for you, babe.” Pansy declared as she finished pinning your hair up. “Graham is going to die when he sees you.” 

At the mention of your date, you blanched. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Graham. Since the beginning of fourth year, you’ve gone on a handful of dates with him and they’ve all been relatively pleasant, but that was the problem. There was no spark, no excitement, no butterflies. No matter how hard you willed it into existence. 

There was only one person who made you feel that way, but that was a complication for another day. Theo already loathed Graham enough — truly, he loathed any guy that showed interest in you, but Graham had been the first one that your best friend hadn’t successfully deterred. When he asked you to be his date to the Yule Ball, it only seemed natural to accept. Now that it loomed close, you felt sick to your stomach. 

Still, you tampered down the anxiety and turned to your friend. If anyone had a right to dread the night ahead, it was Pansy. 

“Will you be alright tonight?” 

In a rare display of vulnerability, Pansy's smile dropped as she met your gaze in the mirror. Instantly, you pulled her to the edge of her bed and knelt down next to her. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can stay in and watch movies. Just say the word and I’ll cancel, Pans.” 

Just a few days ago, she had broken things off with Padma after the Ravenclaw announced that she would be attending the Yule Ball with Ron bloody Weasley. It came as a shock, given the fact that Padma and Pansy had been seeing each other since term started. 

You thought things were going well. Pansy had been out to your group of friends for a couple of months now and while everyone had been supportive of her journey, Padma was reluctant to make things public. Her own twin hadn’t even been aware of their relationship. You understood that coming out looked differently for everyone, but it broke your heart to listen to Pansy doubt herself. She didn’t deserve to be kept as a secret. 

“And forfeit the chance to show my ex-girlfriend what she’s missing out on?” Pansy said, sniffing haughtily and squaring her shoulders back. “Not bloody likely.” 

“There’s the Pansy Parkinson I know.” 

Much to her annoyance, you pulled Pansy into a hug. Sighing, she relented and squeezed back as you grinned. “You know, I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart. Patil’s an absolute idiot for ever letting you go. You’re the smartest, funniest, and hottest witch I know. You’re the motherfucking Pansy Parkinson. Any witch in this castle would kill to have you as their girlfriend.” 

Your friend chuckled. “Thank you, Y/N. It feels strange to be on the other end of a motivational speech. Does it always feel this way when I do it?” 

“Well, you tend to be a little bit more forceful,” you teased. “But I love you for it.” 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

Just as you pulled away, a sharp knock startled you out of the tender moment. You and Pansy stared at each other. 

“Come in,” Pansy called. 

Draco stumbled through the door, his platinum blonde hair uncharacteristically tousled and his pale complexion tinged with a deep flush. The Malfoy heir looked like he just finished sprinting through the castle. “It’s Theo,” he breathed.

At the mention of your best friend, you sprang to your feet. “What happened?” 

“He just received a patronus from Rome,” Draco explained. “Nonna is in the hospital.” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Is she alright?” 

“Theo didn’t say much, but he’s with the headmaster right now. They’ve given him permission to floo to Rome.” 

“I have to — I have to go —” You couldn’t breathe. Fear threatened to overcome you entirely, but you fought against it. Theo needed you. “I can’t let him be alone.” 

“I know,” Draco agreed. “Professor Snape said he’s leaving within the hour, so we have to hurry.”

As quickly as possible, the three of you rushed out into the corridor. The sound of your heels clicking against the marble tile echoed as you and Pansy followed Draco’s lead. In his haste, Draco stomped down the staircase and nearly collided with the person waiting at the bottom step. 

At the landing, Graham stood at attention. Your date was wearing a perfectly tailored deep blue dress robe with shiny leather shoes, which made him appear taller than he actually was. His dark hair was slicked back and away from his green eyes that now roamed over your figure. In his hands was a delicately crafted corsage, presumably for you. 

“There you are,” said Graham. He straightened the front of his robes, impatience flickering through his expression. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

“I’m so sorry, Graham, but now is not a good time.” You rushed out as Draco tapped his watch, signaling the hour. Theo could be stepping through the floo any moment now. “I have to go. It’s an emergency.” 

Graham frowned. “What’s happened? What do you mean you have to go?” 

“Theo’s grandmother is in the hospital. I don’t have time to explain, but please know I’m very sorry to miss the ball.” 

“Miss the ball?” He repeated in disbelief. “You’re ditching me for Nott?” 

Graham was well aware of Theo’s dislike of him. In fact, the feeling was mutual. He didn’t like that the two of you were so close, but there was nothing to be done about that now. 

“Of course she is! This is a family emergency, you twat. Y/N would never leave Theo alone at a time like this.” Draco growled, frustration written all over his face. “Now get out of the bloody way, Montague.”  

“This can’t be happening.” 

“Look, we can talk about it when we get back, but I really have to go.” 

“No,” Graham firmly stated. He gripped your wrist and held you in place. Fury like no other surged through you. “You have to choose. It’s either me or Theo.” 

Without thinking, you snatched your arm away and leveled Graham with an icy glare. “Theo. I pick Theo. You may be my date for tonight, but he’s — Theo is — Theo is my person.” 

You didn’t wait for a reaction. You couldn’t care less about the fallout. Graham should’ve known better than to give you an ultimatum. In your mind, there was no choice other than Theo. You would always pick him. Shoving Montague out of the way, you sprinted through the castle with Pansy and Draco following closely behind. When you reached the headmaster’s office, the phoenix statue standing guard over the entrance gave you pause. 

“How do we get in?” you asked frantically. 

“I don’t know,” Draco admitted. He examined the stairs, looking for any sort of opening. 

Pansy stomped on the spiral staircase in an attempt to get it moving, but nothing happened. With determination, you plucked your wand from your dress pocket and instructed your friends to move. If you had to bombarda the bloody thing, you would. 

“Drop your wand, Miss Y/L/N.” 

You whirled around to find the head of your house staring down at you in disapproval. Professor Snape stood between you and the door, his impenetrable gaze sliding from your wand to the phoenix statue. You held your chin high and your wand even higher. In all your years at Hogwarts, you had never defied Snape so openly, but you were determined to get into that office one way or another.

“What exactly is your plan?” Snape asked with his arms crossed. “Decimate the headmaster’s beloved statue to gain entrance?” 

“If it came to that, then yes.” You held your wand steady even though anxiety and apprehension brewed within you like a malevolent storm. 

Draco shot to his feet. “She just needs to see Theo, professor.” 

Snape appraised you for a moment. You made no indication of standing down. “Follow me, then. The headmaster has been expecting you.” 

Without further explanation, Snape climbed onto the spiral staircase. Pansy and Draco squeezed you into a hug and wished you luck. You promised to send them word as soon as you could. As the stairs began to ascend, you watched anxiously as their faces disappeared from view. 

Inside the headmaster’s office, Theo paced back and forth while Dumbledore attempted to comfort him. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with a baby blue vest and matching tie, the latter of which now hung loosely around his neck as he tugged at the silk. The sight of it was heart wrenching. Even though his expression was cold and distant, you could tell that Theo was worried beyond belief. His fear was as palpable as your own. 

“Teddy?” 

Relief washed over Theo as he turned to find you standing before him. Your best friend gravitated towards you, his lower lip trembling as you surged forward to gather him in your arms. 

“You came,” he murmured in a broken whisper. 

“Of course I did,” you assured him as you rubbed his back. “I wouldn’t leave you alone at a time like this.” 

Theo took a deep breath as you cradled his cheek. His gaze roamed over your dress, apprehension written all over his features. “I’m so sorry, fragolina. I didn’t mean to ruin your night. I know how much you were looking forward to the ball. Fuck, Montague must be furious —” 

“To hell with Montague,” you stated firmly. “You’re more important.” 

Your best friend slid his hand into yours, squeezing tightly as he faced Dumbledore and Snape. “We’re ready to go now.” 

Within a few moments, you found yourself stepping through the lobby of a hospital. Healers milled about in the large, brightly lit room, rushing off to care for their patients. The sight of the yellow robed witches and wizards gave Theo pause. You could only imagine that their presence brought forth traumatic memories of his mum’s frequent trips to St. Mungo’s. 

Steeling yourself, you marched right up to the front desk and greeted the elderly witch sitting behind the counter. She gave a wide berth at your overly formal attire, but smiled politely when she caught herself. 

“Buonasera, siamo qui per vedere Serafina Conti.” 

“Qual è il tuo rapporto con il paziente?”

“Grandson,” Theo rasped. “I’m her grandson.” 

The healer checked the records, her eyes skimming over the patient charts. “Serafina is under heavy sedation. The rest of your family has been contacted and should be arriving soon.”

“What exactly happened?” 

“Your grandmother contracted a case of Forest Cough. Typically, the cough is very mild. Had Serafina sought treatment earlier this week, she would’ve been perfectly fine, but since she waited, it developed into a fever.” 

You swallowed thickly. “Will she be alright?” 

“Her healer has her on a dose of magical antibiotics, which also acts as a mild sedative. With a few hours of rest, Serafina should recover quite quickly. If any other symptoms arise, we do advise that she seek treatment as soon as possible. The worst thing you can do is wait.” 

“Thank you so much.” The weight on your heart lessened at the reassurance. Nonna would be alright. That was all that mattered. “Could we please see her?” 

The witch nodded. “Of course. Follow me.” 

The two of you followed the healer through a long corridor. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow color that matched the healer’s robes, but even its sunny shade couldn’t mask the cold and sterile feeling of the hospital. Beside you, Theo tensed as you passed room after room of patients, his gaze lingering on the still bodies within. 

You squeezed his hand, distracting him from his own memories. “It’s alright,” you murmured. “Nonna is going to be alright, Teddy.” 

Theo tore his gaze away from a pale witch laying still on a stretcher, his expression shifting from worry to relief. He nodded in agreement and squeezed your hand back. 

Just then, the elderly witch led you into a private room. She poked her head through the door, alerting nonna of your presence. “Serafina, there’s visitors here to see you.” 

As she ushered you in, you couldn’t help but notice how small and fragile nonna looked. To you, Serafina Conti had always been larger than life, but right now, you realized that even a strong woman like her wasn’t invulnerable. Be that as it may, nonna haughtily sat up in her bed and crossed her arms as though she owned the place. 

With a look of disapproval, she tutted at the both of you. “Why are you here?’

“Aldo sent a patronus,” Theo explained. “He said you were in the hospital. We were worried sick!”

“You know how your cousin loves his theatrics,” Nonna said with a nonchalant wave. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

“They said they had to sedate you, that you had Forest Cough and you waited so long that it turned into a fever —”

“The healers are overzealous, as usual. All this fuss over a cough. It’s ridiculous, really.” 

“Stop treating it like a joke!” Theo snapped, his voice echoing off the walls. You had never heard him speak to his grandmother like this, which told you how truly upset he was about the entire situation. “I could’ve lost you, nonna. I can’t — I can’t go through that again.” 

Nonna’s expression softened. She knew more than anyone how the loss of her daughter nearly broke Theo. “I’m alright, Theodore. I apologize for worrying you, but I promise that everything is fine.” Theo’s shoulders slumped, the tension easing from his body as his grandmother held his hand. “Besides, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Who’s going to help plan you and Y/N’s wedding?” 

A choked sob broke free from your throat. You hadn’t even realized that you were holding in tears until this moment. For the past hour, you were focused on doing whatever it took to get to Rome. Now that you were standing before nonna, the possibility of losing her crashed over you all at once. 

You sniffled and wiped an errant tear away as she took your hand. “Don’t cry, piccolina. It’ll take more than a silly little cough to take me out.” 

“We were so worried,” you confessed. “We just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“I’m alive and kicking,” she joked. In a softer tone, she said, “Thank you for accompanying Theodore. As upset as I am that you both skipped the Yule Ball to be here, I am glad I got to see the two of you like this. You make a beautiful couple.” 

“Nonna,” Theo groaned. “Now is really not the time.” 

Nonna rolled her eyes, ignoring her grandson. “So, tell me. When did Theodore finally pluck up the courage to ask you to be his date?” 

Theo sighed, knowing that there was no stopping his grandmother. He busied himself with tidying up her surroundings, flinging the curtains open to reveal a stunning view of the city. Rome was a beauty to behold, its ancient streets thrumming with excitement even at this late hour. In the distance, you could make out the Sistine Chapel under the glittering stars.

“I was actually supposed to go with someone else.” Up until this point, you had completely forgotten all about Montague. You knew you’d have to deal with that when you returned, but he seemed rather insignificant given all that had occurred. “Graham Montague.” 

Nonna wrinkled her nose. The gesture told you all you needed to know about her opinion of him. “If you were going with the Montague boy, then why are you and my grandson matching?” 

Your gaze flickered up to Theo’s baby blue vest and tie, which were both a perfect match to the color of your ball gown. “I don’t know, actually. Teddy never saw my dress. I might have mentioned that I was wearing blue, but not the exact shade.” 

“This is the shade of blue that you always say you look best in,” Theo explained. “It’s your favorite color. Everyone knows that.” 

“Nobody knows that.” 

“Well, I know that.” 

Graham certainly hadn’t. You had shown him the exact color, yet he still picked the wrong shade to wear. You thought that perhaps boys were just clueless when it came to this sort of thing. After all, blue was blue. But Theo knew. Of course he knew.

An amused smirk appeared on nonna’s face as she watched the interaction. She was outright grinning when Theo busied himself with her pillows, fluffing them quite aggressively to hide the flush on his cheeks. You couldn’t help but smile. 

An hour later, Theo’s cousin Aldo finally arrived from Vallara. It had been a nightmare to journey to Rome, given that the floo station in the countryside closed earlier than most. Aldo had to travel to Amalfi by apparating, which took quite the toll on him. Regardless, he was glad to see that nonna was in stable condition. 

The rest of Theo’s cousins piled into the small room, nearly causing a fire hazard from the sheer amount of people packed in such a tiny space. The two of you gave them time to fuss over nonna, happily changing into the extra clothes they had brought. The ball gown was a feat to remove, the tulle and silk nearly suffocating you as you tried to maneuver out of it in the bathroom stall. In the end, you prevailed. Despite the fact that Theo’s sweats and hoodie nearly swallowed you whole, you were thankful to be in comfier clothing. 

After chatting with his cousins and ensuring that nonna would be properly cared for, the two of you said your goodbyes. You wished you could stay longer, but it was time to return to the castle. Under the silver moon, you and Theo walked through the empty streets, marveling at the beauty of Rome. 

“I never got to tell you,” Theo said suddenly. “You look beautiful tonight.” 

“Looked,” you corrected. “No offense, but my dress was a little more fashionable than this outfit.” 

“You could wear a plastic bag and I’d still think that you’re beautiful, bella.” 

You flushed at the compliment, hiding its effect behind a curtain of hair. “Thank you, Teddy.” 

“No, thank you. I couldn’t have gotten through all of that without you.” Theo took your hand, twirling the emerald ring on your finger with a small smile. “I’m sorry that I messed things up for you with Montague.” 

“Don’t lie, Teddy. You’re not sorry.” 

Theo smiled sheepishly. “You’re right. I’m not.” 

“It’s alright. It probably wouldn’t have worked out between us anyways.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“I don’t think he really knew me,” you mused. “He couldn’t even remember my favorite color.” 

“What an idiot,” teased Theo. “Still, you must be bummed about missing the ball. I know you were looking forward to it.” 

“There will be other balls,” you responded. “This was more important.” 

Theo lifted your hand and brushed his lips against your knuckles. “I’m really glad you’re here with me, bella.” 

“Me too, Teddy,” you whispered softly. “Me too.” 

Day Four, The Clay Cliffs

Laughter emanated from your phone while you recounted the events of the past few days to your parents. When you described the trip to the Temple of Cupid, your mum teared up as your dad comforted her in the back garden. The two of them were having afternoon tea when you called, which was the perfect time to chat and catch up. 

Attempting to lighten the mood, your dad peered into the screen. “Is that the infamous convertible?” 

You grinned and panned around the baby blue car, which you were currently lounging in as you waited for the rest of your friends to arrive. Theo insisted on driving up the Clay Cliffs, while Pansy and the boys rented bikes to take the more scenic route. You had absolutely no desire to struggle up the cliffside, so you opted to accompany your best friend instead. 

As if on cue, Theo bounded back into the car after begrudgingly helping a group of tourists with directions. “Hi Laurel! Hi Alistair!’” 

Your parents waved as Theo slipped into the driver seat. He grinned into the camera before snatching your favorite heart shaped sunglasses off your head and placing them over his eyes. “Hi, Theo. Congratulations on the car. She’s a beauty!”

“Theo hasn’t hit a single curb our whole trip. The driving lessons finally paid off, dad.” 

“I’m proud of you, son.” 

Beside you, Theo flushed and shyly thanked your dad. Shifting in his seat, he grabbed the phone from your hand and squeezed himself into frame. No matter how many times you explained the technology of video calls to him, Theo still wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t a form of magic. 

“The garden looks great, Alistair.” Theo lowered his sunglasses and squinted at the screen. “The cherry tree looks like it’s blooming.” 

You furrowed your brow. “When did you add a cherry tree?” 

“The start of summer,” your dad answered. “Theo helped me plant it before he left for Vallara.” 

“He also cooked us a fantastic dinner,” your mum added. She looked wistful, probably fantasizing about your best friend’s cooking. “I still dream about that carbonara.” 

“I promise to cook it for you the next time I visit.” 

“Speaking of which,” your dad interjected. “Are we still on for Sunday tea when you’re back in town?” 

“Of course,” Theo assured. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“You guys are having tea without me?” you asked incredulously. 

Your mum nodded. “Well, we have to do something to fill our time while our little girl is off at Oxford.” 

Theo nudged you, smiling. “Don’t worry, bella. Now that I have my car, I can come and kidnap you during the weekends.” 

You beamed. “Thanks, Teddy.” 

Just then, you heard bells ringing through the clearing. The rest of your friends had finally caught up, racing up the narrow trail in colorful bikes. 

Mattheo honked his horn, the wind plastering his curls to his cheek as he pedaled uphill. “Come on lovebirds, it’s time. Last one to dive off the cliff owes the group a round tonight!” 

Your mum let out a surprised squeak. “Please tell me you’re not jumping headfirst off a cliff.” 

“I would, but then I’d be lying.” 

“Y/N  Y/L/N!” 

“Hm, what was that, mum? I think you’re breaking up.” 

Theo snickered as your mum began to lecture the two of you. Fortunately, your dad talked her down before she could continue her rant. “Bye, sweetheart, have fun! You too, son. Take care of our little girl. Love you both.” 

Your best friend waved at your parents, a grin present on his face. “Always! Love you, miss you. See you soon!” 

“Love you mum and dad. Talk to you later!.” 

After bidding your parents goodbye, you and Theo made your way up to the top of the Clay Cliffs. At the peak, Mattheo waved you towards the cliff’s edge. Cautiously, you made your way over to where the rest of the boys stood. The four of them were busy placing bets on who could do the most flips before landing. 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Just make sure you don’t break your neck. It would put a damper on my holiday.” 

“My money’s on you,” you stated as you draped an arm over her shoulder. You don’t know why the boys bothered. Pansy was by far the most athletic out of all of you. 

“Are you making the jump this year?” 

Your stomach flipped as you peered over the cliffside. The drop was at least fifty feet, which was intimidating enough without your paralyzing fear of heights. Still, you were determined to face this phobia of yours once and for all. You didn’t know when you’d get another chance to share this moment with your favorite people. Despite your determination, it didn’t make the task less daunting. 

Steeling yourself, you nodded. “Yes. It would be a shame to come all this way and not do it.” 

Pansy smiled and squeezed your hand. “You’ve got this, babe.” 

The support gave you a little boost of confidence, especially after the boys assured you that they’d all be waiting at the bottom and cheering you on. You watched in anticipation as Blaise and Draco went first, their dives perfectly synchronized as they flipped two times in the air before slicing through the water. 

“Showoffs,” Mattheo muttered as he kicked off his shoes. He squinted at the waves below, no doubt calculating if he can beat Blaise and Draco. 

“You’ve got this, Matt,” you encouraged. “You’re by far the most obnoxious competitive person I know. Show them how it’s done.” 

“Thanks, I think?” Mattheo responded with an amused chuckle. He raised a brow as a mischievous grin tugged at his lips. “Mind giving me a good luck kiss?” 

“I will kick you off this damn cliff,” Theo threatened.

With a smirk, Mattheo saluted the two of you before joining your friends below. Just as you predicted, he executed three flips on the way down. Enzo went shortly after and tied with Mattheo, much to the latter’s annoyance. Pansy gracefully followed with a series of four flips that had you cheering and whistling. 

Finally, it was your turn. You slowly peeled your dress off and carefully arranged it next to everyone else’s clothes. Theo tugged his shirt off before flinging it in the same general direction. You shook your head as you folded it up for him, rolling your eyes fondly while he apologized with a sheepish grin. 

Those familiar watercolor eyes snagged on your blue dotted bikini, the heat of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but return the favor, cheeks heating as you shamelessly scanned Theo’s toned chest and chiseled abs. When he was younger, Theo often complained about his lanky build, but you liked how tall and lean he was. He’d certainly grown into it now. As if those mesmerizing eyes and sex tousled waves and impish grin wasn’t enough, Theo also had to be funny and kind and sweet. 

Truly, it was unfair to the rest of the world. 

“Are you nervous, bella?” 

You shook off your daydreams and returned to reality. “A little.” You made the mistake of looking down at the waves below. From this point of view, everything seemed that much more terrifying.  “Is it silly that I’m scared?” 

Theo gently grabbed your hand, prying you away from anxiously twisting your emerald ring. “I don’t think it’s silly at all,” he replied. “It’s normal to feel scared.” 

“But you’re not scared of anything.” 

Your best friend chuckled. “Are you kidding? I’m scared of everything, all the time. I just act like I’m not.” 

“Really?” 

Theo nodded. “Do you remember the first time I met the guys?” 

“At Malfoy Manor, right? When we were eight.” 

“I was so scared that they wouldn’t like me, that they wouldn’t understand my accent, but mostly I was scared that you’d figure out that they were funnier and smarter and cooler than I was and I’d lose my best friend.” 

Your expression softened. “You could never lose me, Teddy.” 

“I know that now,” Theo said with a smile. “But back then, I was terrified. Until you told me that we were a package deal. That if they didn’t like me, then you didn’t like them either because we came as a pair. You couldn’t have one without the other.” 

“I was only stating the obvious.” 

“Maybe, but you don’t know what that meant to me. Besides mum, no one has ever stood up for me like that. I remember you threatening to push Flint into the garden fountain when he said I sounded funny even though he was older and bigger than the both of us combined.” 

The memory made you chuckle. “If only I had that courage now.” 

“You do,” Theo assured you. “My point is, you’re the bravest person I know. I’m never scared when I’m with you.” 

“You’ve never told me that before,” you said softly, sniffling a little. You couldn’t help it. Theo knew exactly what to say to put your mind at ease. 

“I was saving it for the view,” Theo replied cheekily. “It really gives it that theatrical effect.” 

Though you could still feel your heart beating against your ribcage, your anxiety lessened. You squeezed Theo’s hand, mostly to remind yourself that he was here with you. His presence always grounded you. 

“Will you jump with me?” you asked shyly. 

Theo’s smile was like a shot of espresso, warm and soothing as it surged through your nervous system like caffeine. You could see why people said that coffee was as addictive as the next hard drug, because you were pretty sure that you’d chase this high for the rest of your life. 

Your heart soared as he squeezed your hand back. “Of course, fragolina,” he declared proudly. “I’d be offended if you didn’t pick me to do something so stupid and reckless with.” 

“You’re quite right. The most stupid and reckless things I’ve ever done in my life have included you in some way or another.” 

Theo grinned and kissed the back of your knuckles. “You’re stalling.” 

“Maybe a little bit.” 

“We’ll do it together,” he said. “Like everything in life. On the count of three, we jump, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“One…two…”

“Wait, jump on three or after three?” 

“Now!” 

With a scream, you and Theo broke out into a sprint and leapt off the cliffside. Your stomach turned inside out and upside down while your heart galloped in your chest. The adrenaline kicked in as you plunged through the water, the waves splashing all around you as you kicked back up to the surface. 

It was scary, it was exhilarating, but most of all, it was reassuring because when you broke free, Theo was still holding your hand.

Later that night, you found yourself ducking into the mouth of a cave. Behind you, the boys grumbled as they crouched, nearly hitting their heads on the jagged rocks. Draco mumbled something about sullying his expensive silk button down, while Enzo mocked his cousin with an overly snooty accent. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Blaise asked warily. 

“Have I ever steered you wrong, Zabini?” 

“Do you want me to answer honestly?” 

To be fair, you couldn’t exactly blame Blaise for doubting your best friend. Theo promised to bring you and your friends to the hottest party in town only to lead you into the heart of a cave. 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Just a little more,” he urged. “Then you’ll see that Theodore Nott always delivers. Isn’t that right, bella?” 

You scoffed. “Well, Theodore Nott needs to deliver a little faster, because my feet are absolutely killing me. Had I known we were going spelunking, I would’ve opted out of heels.” 

“I second that,” Pansy huffed in annoyance. “I’m honestly considering throwing my stiletto at your head, Nott.” 

“Keep your shoes to yourself, ladies,” Theo warned as he led you further into the cave. 

In the distance, you could hear the muffled sound of music and the thump of the bass echoing through the rock. You gaped as the crowd came into view. Lights flashed along the cavern, pulsing to the beat of the music. The inside of the cave looked like a club, complete with a DJ, a fully stocked bar, and a makeshift dance floor. 

“How did you even know about this?” Draco asked. 

“I was invited by a local,” Theo responded slyly. “Speaking of which, here’s our host now.” 

The local was none other than Dante, who was now strolling up to your group with a tray full of limoncello. You watched in confusion as Theo exchanged cheek kisses with Dante as though they were old friends. 

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Pansy greeted. 

“Indeed,” Dante agreed. “I must admit, I was surprised when Theo called me up after your visit to the vineyard. I got the feeling that he wasn’t too fond of me.” 

“What would ever make you think that?” quipped your best friend. 

Dante chuckled. “After he proposed a fresh start, I couldn’t help but agree. Besides, there is no way I’d pass up the chance to show you the hottest party in town. Welcome to Vallara’s most exclusive club, my friends.” 

“Wow,” Mattheo exclaimed. “This is sick.” 

Enzo nodded in agreement. “Is that a body paint station? Did that girl just take off her top — where are you going, Mattheo? Hey, wait for me!” 

You chuckled as the two boys hustled to the other side of the room. Theo rolled his eyes and apologized for their behavior, but Dante merely waved it off before passing out the limoncello. 

“To new friends,” Theo proposed. 

Dante clinked his glass with his. “To new friends!” 

The limoncello was dangerously sweet and smooth, its tart aftertaste causing your face to pucker. The drinks flowed after that as Dante introduced your group of friends to the crowd. For the most part, everyone in attendance was a local, which made you feel honored to be welcomed into their midst. 

As always, Theo was a natural at working the crowd. Your best friend seemed to have taken your advice to heart, because he and Dante were currently laughing and chatting with yesterday’s not-so-great first impression clearly forgotten. From the glimpses you stole from the dance floor, Theo was currently trying to play wingman, talking Dante up to a very handsome local. He took the job quite seriously, politely declining any attention thrown his way. 

“How is it fair that Nott is turning girls away while none of them will even look at me?” complained Mattheo. 

“It’s because you reek of desperation.” Draco responded honestly, brushing off a nonexistent piece of lint from his shirt. 

“And he doesn’t?” Mattheo exclaimed. “Theo’s been following Y/N around like a lost puppy all summer. Hell, all his life.” 

“That’s not desperation, you dolt,” Pansy scoffed. “That’s love.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Theo’s not in love with —” The protest died in your throat as Theo caught your eye from across the room. His face lit up when he spotted you like you were the beacon he’d been searching for in the dark. 

Mattheo ignored your comment entirely. “So if I fall in love, girls will flock to me?” 

Draco shook his head. “That’s not the point. When you fall in love, no one else matters. You can’t even see anyone but them. You just know deep down inside that you’ve found your person.” 

“Y/N.” You startled as Theo hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“What?” asked Mattheo.

“My person,” Theo clarified. “It’s Y/N. That’s what Draco was talking about, right?” 

Draco smirked. “Told you, Riddle.” 

The shit eating grins remained on your friend’s faces even during the walk home from the cave. It didn’t help that Theo insisted on giving you a piggyback ride through the cobblestone streets after one too many complaints about your aching feet. As he set you down on the bathroom counter, Theo shook his head. 

“I will never understand why you choose to punish yourself this way, bella.”

You shrugged, watching as your best friend removed the death traps from your feet. “Beauty is pain, Teddy.” 

“Must be why I’m always aching,” Theo remarked with a dramatic sigh. “Pretty hurts.” 

You snorted as you jumped off the counter and began your ten step skincare routine. Theo traded places with you, swinging his long legs while he handed you product after product. He grinned like a little kid when you swiped toner, moisturizer, and serum onto his face.  Not that he needed it. Irritatingly enough, his skin was clear as day without the aid of expensive products. 

After you finished brushing your teeth together, the two of you changed into pajamas and settled for the night. You buried yourself in bed, sighing at the cold sheets and fluffy pillows. Theo made his way over to the love seat that he’d been sleeping on for the past few nights, but it was gone. Nowhere to be found. He stared at the empty spot in complete bafflement. 

“Is the couch…”

“Yup.” 

“Completely gone?” 

“Mhm."

“Disappeared off the face of the earth.” 

“Seems like it.” 

“Oh god,” you groaned. “I’m sorry, Teddy. I have a feeling this is Pansy’s doing. She’s been scheming all summer. First the honeymoon suite and then this.” 

“It’s okay, fragolina,” Theo assured you. “I can just sleep on the living room couch.”

You shook your head vehemently. “You shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.” 

“I’m fine, bella.” 

“Theo,” you whisper, your voice disrupting the blissful bubble of silence. “I don’t want you to sleep on the couch.” 

Realization flooded Theo’s features. He smiled softly, shy and sweet as he made his way over to you. Making room for him, you threw the blankets back and watched as he crawled into bed beside you. Theo settled on his side, his head resting on the pillow as he faced you. 

You mirrored his action, suddenly feeling vulnerable as those piercing blue eyes flitted over you. “Hi.” 

Theo grinned. “Hi.” 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. The serene sounds of the countryside lapped all around you; the gentle breeze swaying gently through the open window, the soothing lull of the waves kissing the shore, all of it syncing with the rhythmic beating of your heart. 

The moonlight streamed into the room in glittering strips of silver, its light bathing Theo in its ethereal glow. His fluffy hair, his boyish grin, his sleepy eyes. You had never seen anything more beautiful and breathtaking in your life. 

“You’re my person, too.” 

The smile on his face would’ve put the stars to shame. The gravity of it was magnetizing, drawing you in like an inevitable force. 

“Do you know that you’re my favorite person in this entire world?” 

“I had a feeling,” Theo teased. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, preparing a sarcastic response, but you stopped short when he leaned closer. His knuckles brushed against your cheek. “I’d say the same, but it seems like an understatement to call you my favorite person in the world when you are my world.” 

“Teddy…”

“Too cheesy?” he asked with a boyish grin. 

“No, it’s perfect.” You took his face in your hands, cataloging every freckle and mole as though everything about him wasn’t already seared into your mind. “You’re perfect.” 

You didn’t know who moved first. It might’ve been him, it might’ve been you, but at the end of the day, all that mattered was that his lips were on yours. As Theo kissed you, you realized then that you’d never truly known what it meant to hunger, to crave — not truly. Not like this. 

The kiss itself was soft and gentle and sweet, but it was also all-consuming. The pressure of his lips against yours brought you relief. It was the breaking of clouds, the pattering of rain, the downpour after an endless drought. 

Your fingers slipped through his silky locks as Theo tugged you closer, his hands snaking around you in a tight embrace as though he was afraid you might disappear. You wanted to tell him that you weren’t going anywhere. You couldn’t even if you tried, but you were too drunk on him — his scent, his touch, his kisses. 

This, you thought, was exactly what you were made for. 

Theo pulled away, his gaze tender as it flickered over your face. You touched your fingers to your lips, already missing the absence of his kisses. 

“I’ve been waiting for that all my life,” Theo whispered in awe.

“I had a feeling,” you teased back.

“I like when you’re cheeky,” Theo chuckled, burying his face in your neck. He placed a kiss under your jaw. “And I like how soft your skin is.” Another kiss on your cheek. “I like how red and flushed you get when I compliment you.” 

Theo pressed his lips against yours Once, twice, three times. Just because he could. Just because he wanted to savor the taste of your cherry chapstick, to swallow the soft little sigh that escaped your mouth every time he kissed you, to acclimate himself to the new reality of getting to snog his best friend whenever and wherever he wanted. 

“I just really like you.” 

You smiled into the kiss. “I really like you too, Teddy.” 

The confession was the tip of the iceberg of how you felt for him, but it would do for now. As Theo held you in his arms, you listened to the rhythmic pulse echoing in your chest. 

Your heart thumped to the beat of his name. Theo, Theo, Theo. 

It always had and it always will.

[marvel-snape-writes]

hii i found your work recently and i love it so much!! would you be interested in continuing the storyline of the solo snape one-shot and writing one about him and the mirror of erised?

Infatuated Reflections Plagued By Self-loathing

Severus Snape x 🤫female character🤫/The Mirror of Erised

5.7k+ words

18+ solo smut 🤭

Thank you to the person who requested this! I hope you enjoy it, and I hope that the rollercoaster of emotions does your request the justice it deserves! 😊🫶

You’d have thought that for someone who was so often described as ‘an overgrown bat’ that nightfall would have been his favourite time of day, but not for Severus Snape. In reality, he hated when the day was over, the marking was done, and he had no other vices to drown out his own thoughts. The tossing and turning in his bed was often as a result of this. Though, albeit more often than he’d like to admit, he would sometimes think about how it must feel to spend the night with someone, rather than by himself. Not even necessarily for any fooling around, more for the company. Someone to hold, perhaps, or even someone to be held by. He knew he would be far too nervous, far too out of his depth, even, in order to hint at anything more. But just to have someone to carry him through the loneliness, that he couldn't deny he had wished for now and then.

Right now, he was sat at his desk and still trying to find different ways in which to procrastinate making the journey from his armchair to his bed. He couldn't put his finger on why, but tonight he felt a mixture of loneliness and a slight twinge of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps the company he was longing for tonight was something more along the lines of affection than just another body to lay to the side of in silence. His chin rested on the palm of his hand with his elbow bent on the table as he pondered into the gentle flicker of his desk candle how exactly could he get what he so craved whilst avoiding the embarrassment of speaking or bumping into a single person. He concluded only one answer: taking a visit to The Mirror of Erised.

‘Don’t be so absurd’, was the first internal voice of response. He stared down at the neatly stacked pieces of paper upon his desk and let out a deep sigh through his hooked nose. ‘You want company, you do not wish to be a burden, you do not wish for embarrassment. It is the only way’, a different voice then continued as his lip twitched, ‘Go’.

“Can I bring the mirror back to bed with me?” He asked out loud into the silence, his mind tampering with the slightly seducing reflections he may see in the mirror if it really did show the depths his desires would go on rare occasions.

There were few things he hated more than feeling like this. Very rarely he would let himself to give in to his own desires. Very rarely he would allow himself to even entertain the idea. On the rare occasion he did, it would be over in a flash; whether that be because of the self-loathed feeling of embarrassment he would bring upon himself for letting it come to that point where he had no choice except to chase his own release, or whether it was because the times between allowing pleasure into his life were so far apart that once he started, it only took a few minor strokes to reach his craved result; the hot, sticky blobs landing upon him almost as white as his own skin.

He could feel the frustration beginning to grow. It bubbled from the pit of his stomach and sent tingles down his thighs, clenching his fists a few times whilst swallowing hard. The times where he craved company that went further than just to have another person’s presence with him were what he’d fear the most. Not knowing how long it was going to last or how he would deal with it. Whether he would dare to allow himself to go through with the inevitable when it got too painful to even sleep. The feeling, the urges would come in waves. To him, they were more likened to waves of nausea — or should he say, they were about just as unwelcome as feeling nauseous. However, the way that one would ‘feel better’ after having thrown up after a long time of feeling sick, this was the same way he felt after he had given in to his own desires; not happy necessarily, certainly not proud, maybe a little relieved, but mostly just glad it was over.

Begrudgingly, he stood up from his armchair and brushed his hands down the front of his buttoned pyjama shirt. He pushed his chair back into his desk and glanced around the room to try and decide what would result in less speculation or questions if he were to be caught walking the corridors after hours. He was comfortable in his black bedclothes, but he definitely didn't have the confidence to be walking down the halls in them. His go-to solution was to grab his cloak and wrap it around his shoulders — and as much of his body as possible without looking completely ridiculous.

He stood by his chamber door for a few moments, one hand fixed on the handle and one pushing through his hair as he had a few last minute hesitations about going to find The Mirror of Erised. What would someone say if they saw him? What story would he make up? What if someone was in front of the mirror already? The thoughts took over his mind for several moments and he sighed deeply, taking one glance back at his empty bed before making the final decision to go ahead with the plan to at least attempt to fill his loneliness.

Thankfully, the corridors were quiet, or quiet enough at least to be able to hear if anyone else was coming in any other direction. Knowing exactly what to do and where to go in order to find The Mirror of Erised irritated him a little as he was hoping by the time it was in view, his desires may have calmed. They hadn’t.

As he saw the mirror in the distance, he pondered for a short while if this would be worth it at all. Would it make him feel even worse if he couldn't even converse with whatever would be standing in front of him? He stepped closer to it. What if he could cast a spell and make it talk? Or would that make it even worse?

He grumbled to himself as he approached the mirror and stood at the side of it, still in absolute disbelief that he had allowed himself to come this far. He pulled his cloak around him a little bit tighter as if for some sort of comfort — for the first time in a long time he actually felt a bit nervous. As he side stepped a little closer to the mirror, still not yet in front of it, he thought of all the possibilities that could be reflected; Which would it choose? Out of all the things in Severus Snape’s ‘ideal world’, which, in this exact moment in time, would The Mirror of Erised select as his most his desired?

He felt his heart race at the thought of the several possible outcomes and was unable to even move his feet, almost as if they had been glued to the floor. Often coming across as being so sure of himself and his actions, he was not familiar with this sudden anxiety surrounding the idea of standing in front of a mirror. He knew deep down it was because he was afraid of seeing for himself what it was that he really wanted, because if he could see it, then he knew it was real, and delving into his own thoughts and feelings and putting himself and his own desires first was something he hadn't done for years.

He took a deep breath and lifted one of his feet in order to step in front of the mirror before stopping himself in the process as he had a sudden thought; what if he were to cast the potential ‘talking’ spell on the mirror before standing in front of it? That way, if he didn't like what he saw, he could at least threaten whoever was on the other side with something if they didn't promise to keep tonight and his helplessness a secret.

He pulled his wand out of his pocket and gestured it toward the mirror, muttering the first thing that came into his head. He lowered his arm and placed his wand back into his pocket, waiting a few moments in complete silence. The breath he drew this time was even deeper than the one before, genuinely afraid of what he may discover next. His heart thumping in his chest and his hands growing sweaty, he took his first step in front of the mirror. Afraid to look at the image in front of him, his eyes instinctively closed once he was in line with it.

Just open them, Severus. Whatever you see, it is not real, he told himself, already embarrassed with how pathetic he felt. He calmed his breathing and swallowed hard, opening his eyes with a slight squint at first before opening them fully. To his surprise — or relief — there wasn't anything in the reflection of the mirror other than darkness. He couldn't even see himself. Not that he and his self-loathing was upset about it. He let out a shaky breath and stared directly at it, trying his best to focus on if there was anything he was missing. He arched a brow and sighed in defeat.

You can’t even stare into a mirror right, he grumbled inside his head, pulling his cloak around him tightly again and turning away from the mirror. He began to walk back to the door and pressed his lips together hard, unsure of if he was more angry or disappointed in himself. Even the mirror didn't have anything to offer him. Only seeing his own reflection? He knew there was a reason why he had never used the mirror for himself. What could a cold, reserved man possibly desire?

Already dreading who he would potentially bump into down the corridors back to his chamber, he placed his hand on the handle of the door to leave the room. The mirror was facing away from him now, his back toward the room, and he couldn't wait to pretend he had never even tried to communicate with it. He twisted the handle and began to pull it open, scowling to himself until he heard a voice from behind him speak into the empty room, “Severus, wait…”

The gentle voice shook him to his core, placing his free hand flat upon the wall at the side of the doorframe to try and steady himself. For a moment he convinced himself that he had imagined it, but the same gentle tone called for him again. His lips parted and he felt a shiver run down his spine, his fingertips now turning white from how hard they were pressed against the wall. His heart rate intensified wildly as he turned around and began walking back toward the mirror.

Once again, he approached the front of it with his eyes closed, still not fully convinced that his spell had worked. Had he made the mirror say what he craved most rather than showing him? Gradually, he opened his eyes again to find his answer. His head was dipped when his eyes opened fully, seeing only dainty feet. It was as his eyes trailed further up herbody that he felt himself dizzy with impossibility. Whether the reflection could speak to him or not, he found himself absolutely speechless. His eyes welled as he felt genuine emotion surge through his body for the first time in longer than he could even remember.

“I- It can’t be…” His voice trembled, bringing one of his hands to his mouth and speaking into it, “C-Can’t…”

His head shook as his eyes met the reflection in the mirror. Instead of seeing himself with what he apparently most desired, he only saw her alone. But that was enough. If he had seen himself with her after all these years, he was convinced he would've collapsed in an instant. She looked older, though she still had all the same familiarities he was so used to gazing upon in his youth. Still convinced that he was seeing things, he took a step closer. The slim figure in the mirror moved with him, shocking him to the point of stumbling backward a little and struggling to keep his balance. He desperately reached to a nearby table to try and stabilise himself, feeling himself growing more and more lightheaded by the second.

“Just take a breath,” She said, her eyes following him from the mirror, “Compose yourself,” The softness of her voice made him tingle, “Everything is going to be okay.”

“You’re not here,” He shook his head manically, covering his face with his hands as he leant back against the table, “You are not here.”

“Look at me and tell me I’m not, Severus.” She replied.

Severus slowly lowered his hands from his face again and tried not to act so startled this time when he was met with her reflection yet again. He swallowed hard and exhaled deeply. She was every bit of stunning that he remembered. Even more so, actually. Now she looked a similar age to him, he could begin to imagine what life would have been like — could have been like. But that thought made his eyes well even more.

“How are you, Severus?” She asked in a gentle tone.

“Oh, that used to be such a simple question to answer…” Severus laughed weakly, his hands trembling madly as he dared to look her reflection in the eyes again.

“Well, you’re here,” She shrugged, “Living, breathing—”

“Barely,” Severus swallowed the lump in his throat, “I’d say more just existing.”

“Oh, Severus…” It was only two words but the way she said it earned a singular tear to run down his cheek. The caring, tender tone made him feel as if she had reached out her hand caressed it. He looked up at her reflection helplessly, catching his lip between his teeth when it began to quiver.

“I can't…” He inhaled shakily, “B—Believe it…”

His chest physically pained from what was in front of him, still only half believing it was true.

“What is it?” She asked, narrowing her eyebrows empathetically and speaking again when Severus failed to do so, “I cannot leave if I am what you desire the most. That's the rules. The mirror can't lie.”

Severus nodded uneasily, mumbling under his breath, “I do not deserve to desire,” He shrugged simply, “Wherever you are, I just hope you’re happy,” He swallowed the growing lump in his throat, “Whatever that means.”

“You deserve more than anyone to desire, Severus,” She smiled softly, “A man who has prevented himself from such feelings for so long.”

Severus’ lip twitched, now staring at his feet.

“It is only natural to—”

“Be weak and give in to it?” Severus asked, arching a brow.

“Do not think of it as giving in, think more that you are allowing yourself to feel.” She smiled kindly.

Severus felt himself go strangely numb and electric at the same time. His breathing became jittery and he was struggling to try and figure out what exactly it was that she meant. It wasn't that he didn't feel anything, it was more that he felt everything all at once; shock, sadness, happiness, helpless, regret, heartbreak, loneliness, that so-called desire she spoke of, aroused, even, and when he raised his head to look at her again, justified for all of the above.

“I won't tell if you don't, Severus.” She whispered.

“I-I’m sorry?” Severus widened his eyes.

Before he knew it, his mouth was as wide as his eyes. He watched in awe as she began to undress in front of him in the mirror, half not thinking he was worthy to witness such beauty, half being in so much awe he was unable to bring his eyes away. She stopped once she got to her underwear and left those items of clothing on, looking back into his eyes now. Severus’ eyes quickly diverted, however, now shyly looking at the floor

“For heavens sake, just do what every fibre of your being is telling you to,” She stood now with her hand on her hip, “Take a look.”

Severus’ breathing grew heavier, afraid of what would become of him if he looked at her properly.

“For me?” She bit her lip.

He took a shaky breath and lifted his head, “I…” He swallowed hard.

“Deserve to stop putting off your own desires?” She finished for him.

“I haven't had single desire in my life since the day you...” He began to admit, though couldn't finish the sentence, so only exhaled a sad sigh.

“That is absurd, Severus.” She shook her head.

“I have been afraid to open myself and love again because I fear the loss of it,” He forced himself to look into her eyes, “Because of the loss I felt when I lost you.” His voice was shaky, unsure of whether he felt more or less pathetic admitting this to a reflection in a mirror rather than an actual human being.

“We cannot never love again in fear of loss, Severus,” She frowned, “Otherwise we would never love again.”

“That is the point.” His words were spoken with a slightly sharper tongue this time, “In reality, your death barely happens to you at all, it happens to your friends and family. They’re the ones who feel it. They're the ones who have to deal with it. Day in, day out. Nothing but pain and sadness, nothing but—”

“Severus, Severus!” She butted in, in an attempt to stop him digging himself a deeper hole, “I am here right now, aren't I? The one thing you desire the most? The one telling you that it is okay to have desires and lust. It is completely natural to have a burning want for something and go ahead and allow yourself to feel it,” Their eyes met in the mirror again, “Why is it yourself that you are so unforgiving?”

“Why do you insist on staying and breaking my heart?” He spoke with the most pained expression on his face.

“This is me telling you that it is okay. What is it that you want from me, permission to give in to what you crave the most?” She asked.

“Yes!” Severus practically pleaded, his eyes burning with threat of bursting into tears.

HERE

He watched as the image in the mirror reached behind, unclasping her bra and dropping it carelessly to the floor whilst not even breaking eye contact for a moment, “Is that enough?”

Severus’ body shivered from head to toe at the image before him. His eyes twitched. His lips twitched. His cock twitched. He swore he could even hear his heartbeat. Even though she wasn't real, even though she was just a reflection, the effect she was having upon him that once felt like a sin now felt so natural. It was as if her permission had allowed him to feel this way. As if that was all he ever needed in order to allow himself pleasure in anything after her death.

“Fuck…” He muttered under his breath as cock stirred in his underwear, unable to tear his eyes off the image in front of him. Hesitantly, he placed his hand over his crotch and inhaled sharply when he felt the obvious bump.

“Too scared to see the damage, Severus?” She taunted him through the mirror.

“You—”

“And don't even think about blaming me,” She snapped quickly, “This is all inside your head, not mine.”

Severus’ lips pressed together — he was far too aroused at this point to argue. Even if it would be arguing with a reflection in a mirror. He felt like he was having an out-of-body-experience. His palm brushed back and forth over the bump in the front of his pyjama bottoms and he swallowed hard, feeling the temperature in his body rise. The instinct to chase his arousal had hit him like a ton of bricks; he wanted it, needed it, and had been instructed to do so by the only person who could command him to do anything.

“Is this you giving in to your desires, Severus?” She asked, biting her lip from the view.

“Giving in to you,” He inhaled shakily, “Always giving in to you.”

“Show me.” She whispered.

Severus felt a shiver all the way down to the tip of his cock from her tone of voice and pushed his hand into the front of his pyjamas, then boxers. He could feel himself throb from the simple motion of just brushing his fingertips over the bare skin. For the first time in a long time, he showed barely any hesitation as he wrapped his hand around his cock completely, gently giving himself some slow strokes as his body adjusted to this rare form of pleasure.

“Y…” He squeaked as he watched her topless reflection, “You…”

“Feast upon the image to your hearts content, Severus,” She pressed her hands against the sides of her breasts and pushed them together, “If my permission is what it took to allow a little only natural pleasure into your life, it’s all yours.”

“All… mine…” He breathed out, the thought alone making his body ache with want. His wrist also ached from the restriction his clothing was giving him as he continued to stroke his length up and down.

“Do you like the thought of that?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Fuck, yes.” He nodded quickly.

“I told you to show me.” Her eyes gestured to his hand moving back and forth in the front of his pants.

Severus inhaled sharply, his eyes remaining completely fixated to hers as he pushed down the front of his pyjama pants and boxers. He moaned quietly at the new freedom of his wrist, but it still wasn't enough. He pushed the waistband of both items of clothing down so that they were set below his hips, allowing his pulsating length and aching balls to be completely free and on show. His mouth continued to gape as his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing himself gently before starting to stroke it up and down again, bringing himself even closer to the mirror.

“That’s it, Severus,” The reflection cooed, “Chase that feeling you've been denying yourself for all this time.”

He reached out a shaky hand and placed it against the boarder of the mirror, helping steady himself as he stood with parted legs. His fist slid up and down with ease, perhaps a little bit too much ease, but this situation was playing with his head in more ways than one. Usually, on the scarce occasions he found himself with his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes would be closed in order to flood his head with images that would get him off the fastest, but now his eyes remained open. Those images were right in front of him. His eyes took their time in tracing every detail of her bare body, the only item left upon her being her bottom underwear. The fact that is was exactly how he had imagined her to be, exactly what he dreamed to have and hold each night he closed his eyes; beautifully aged, just how he always pictured she would be. His eyes settling upon her breasts earned a particular throb from his cock, urging him to speed his hand up. Her eyes followed his and he let out several soft whimpers, his lips still parted as precum leaked into his fist, making the movements even slicker. He was completely and utterly mesmerised by her reflection.

He wanted to reach out and touch her. Every inch of her, skin on skin. He craved it. He had never seen such beauty like this so close. Sure, he had dreamed of growing old with her and being able to hold her at every stage of aging life, but he never thought he would get this close. So close, but yet so far. So out of reach, but such a stunning reflection before him. It was like turning torture into art.

“Agh, shit…” He grunted when he purposely brushed his hand under the head of his cock with a little more pressure a couple of times. He rolled onto his tiptoes and felt his entire body shudder in pleasure.

“Are you sure you want to chase the ending that fast, Severus?” Asked the mirror.

“Wh-Wha…” His heavy gaze lifted to hers.

“You don't want it to be over so quickly, do you?” She spoke softly, “Not after how long you've just gone without it,” Her eyes glanced down to his pumping fist for a brief moment, “Savour it.”

One hand stayed against the boarder around the mirror and the other remained around his cock, breathing heavily as his movements slowed down. Instead, he tapped his fingertip against the tip of his length and inhaled shakily when he saw the string of precum attached between them. He whimpered manically as he spread the stickiness around the head of his cock and narrowed his eyebrows, pressing his lips firmly together to try and not make a sound. After a few moments, he wrapped his fist a little looser around himself and parted his legs slightly more. He let go and glanced down at his stubborn arousal, lightly tracing a sticky finger back and forth over the prominent vein bulging against his skin.

“Oh, oh, ohhh…” He hissed through clenched teeth, but he couldn't take it for long; before he knew it, his fist was back around him fully again, though loose enough still to allow swift movements.

“Are you going to fuck your hand and pretend it's mine?” The reflection asked, biting her lip as her eyes fell to his hand again, “Pretend it's me?”

His free hand now lay flat against the border of the mirror and he took a deep, shaky breath. His eyes met with hers and he began to slowly move his hips back and forth, thrusting into his open fist. He shuddered in pleasure and dared himself to tighten his fist and his mouth fell open, moaning “fuck” every few seconds. His hand moved from pressing against the border of the mirror to gripping onto it and grunting every time he bucked his hips, his fingertips now turning white and slightly painful from how desperately he was holding onto it.

“Mmmhh…” He groaned lowly, feeling himself pulsate madly in his grip.

“You’re being so good to yourself, Severus,” Her reflection purred, “Does it feel nice to allow yourself to give in to your desires?”

Severus couldn't even fathom a verbal response. His jerking wrist was now working in time with his hips, his lips pressed firmly together to try and not allow any louder moans to pass through them. His fist twisted and moved in perfect rhythm, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he was doing it without guilt. His eyes which would usually be squeezed shut to try and block out the shame were — albeit heavy — wide open and burning into hers. There wasn't a thing that could stop him at this point, not even the fact that he hadn't locked the door. He was so focused on chasing his release at this point, he couldn't even spare himself a moment to reach for his wand and cast a spell to lock it, either.

“Ugh, fuck, I…” He inhaled sharply, “I-I’m so close…” His breathing became even more jittery, “S…”

“Are you going to cum, Severus?” Her reflection asked, biting her lip.

“Y—Yes… yes!” He whined helplessly, his fist firing relentlessly up and down his entire length.

“Are you going to cum for me, Severus?” Her voice was the most seductive thing he had ever heard.

His thighs tensed and the flickering sparks in the pit of his stomach grew into embers and began to rise higher and higher, earning a jolt of his hips into his hand. He quickly removed his hand from the mirror and placed it just beneath the tip of his length, his jaw tensing and toes curled, suddenly feeling the pleasure of a thousand summer days spent with her hit him all at once in some form of sticky euphoria as his climax began to land upon his cupped hand. He felt dizzy with pleasure and had no choice other than to place his hand back against the border of the mirror again to steady himself whilst his other hand was far too busy pumping up and down his length — the orgasm of which was now spraying against the mirror itself.

“Oh, g—good, god!” Severus’ voice was practically strangled, the veins in his neck almost popping out as his head swung back in ecstasy, “Fuck! Mmmh!” His fist continued to pump recklessly up and down his length and his eyes rolled back, string after string of its effect continuing to land upon the mirror. His wrist ached but the movements continued, grunting breathlessly as he refused to stop.

“Severus, Severus,” She whispered softly as his head remained tilted back, “Say my name…” She spoke in a firm but gentle voice.

Severus regained the strength to lift his head again and opened his eyes, twitching cock still in hand and feeling his heart skip a beat once their eyes met again. He swallowed hard and panted heavily, paying no mind to the mess he had made upon the mirror now trailing down the surface of it. The relief he felt was like something he had barely ever experienced. Euphoric, guilt free relief.

“Say it.” She whispered again, smiling sweetly.

Severus licked his lips shakily, his eyes flickering to the reflection of her lips in the mirror and leaned forward. He pursed his lips and allowed his eyes to fall shut as they pressed upon the mirror itself whilst whispering, “Lilly.”

He placed his hand flat upon the mirror at the side of his head in some hope of being able to feel her. His lips remained pressed against the mirror in some hope he would be able to taste her. He couldn't. It was just cold. Numb. And when he pulled back to gaze upon Lilly’s reflection in the mirror once more, so was his heart. She was gone.

He felt like his heart had been completely torn out of his chest. His eyes welled with tears; frustration, heartbreak, shock and sadness all mixed into one. His hand pressed against the mirror again as if hers would be there to touch it on the other side. Still nothing.

“N—No… no.” His lip quivered, desperately trying to think of any way to bring her back to him again, “Tell me it wasn't real…” He inhaled shakily, “Tell me I just imagined it…” His burning, tear filled eyes stared back at only his own reflection, “No, no, no!” His self-loathing surging through his veins like never before, “My heart is already breaking, why don't you just twist the fucking knife?!”

He felt beyond overwhelmed with emotion, as if he was about to hyperventilate as he panted. In a moment of both weakness and madness, his fist pounded against the mirror a couple of times, though only for want to hurt himself rather than the reflection of her that once stood there. The room was silent despite his sobs. He forced his red eyes open and parted his trembling lips, shaking his head as he stared helplessly into the mirror whilst whimpering.

“I just…” He inhaled deeply, pleading loud in his voice now, “I just cannot face myself alone again.”

He turned himself around and leant back against the mirror, sliding down it with the hope of landing and sleeping in herembrace at last. He buried his face in his hands and continued to bawl, tears now seeping through his fingers and trailing down his wrists. Anyone who walked past the room would think that something was dying inside, but to Severus it felt as if something already had; a wound that had already been far from healed ripped wide open again and stinging him all the more this time in the process. He felt what it was like to have her there with him and then lose her right in front of him all over again.

‘Why had she gone? This wasn't how the mirror worked.’, were the words whizzing around his head. He hated that he had come to this conclusion, but he saw no other way; deep down, he would never want her to see him like this; miserable, embarrassed, alone. His desire was for her to tell him that giving in to what he desired most was okay, and she did that. She saw him with his lustful, loyal eyes. She saw him allowing himself to feel pleasure after all these years of avoiding it, feeling unworthy. He didn't desire for her to see how he really felt now that she was gone and the years since. She really only ever got the better version of him, and even subconsciously he made sure of that.

He had never really known love until it came to him in the form of her, and he felt as if his heart was no longer needed ever since she was no longer here. He knew even if he did allow himself to feel for someone who wasn't her, she would always be the constant in his life — regardless of whether she was living, a reflection, or not here at all. She lived so deeply in his heart she was almost like a dagger; if removed, he would die. The promise he made because of her kept him alive. Though far gone from this world, she kept him alive.

“Lilly…” He finally removed his hands and rubbed his puffy eyes, sniffling, “Oh, my sweet Lilly,” He swallowed the lump in his throat, wiping under his eyes, “Don't leave me in charge of my own heart. It only knows you.”

He heard the rain hit against the window and took a deep breath. Even the sky was crying, mourning with him all over again. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The infatuated reflections plagued by self-loathing, the once guilt-free pleasure that he felt only a few moments ago was gone, just like her, and only left him wondering how it was possible for something so beautiful to cause him such pain.

---

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know your thoughts 🫢😁♥️

Tags:

@dracolilhoe @pinterestwhore145 @dailyalanrickman @liviacarol88-blog @bayleebubble @liv2post @sorryimdyingrn @icytrickster17 @randomcreator-09 @fluffyneondinosaur @dontrunannabelle @lupinmoonlights @bibliosophie @fallingfor-fics @eyesinmymindinmay @taybabylovesyou @its-just-me-chey @peppiloll @odetolithium @dreamshopesfantasies @hazedwords @megladon045 @niftysnazzy @sweeneytoddsmainbitch @benedict-cbe @overgrownbat @bratty-tingz @speedycupcakepaper @severinaprince @acupnoodle @hamiltonstann @honeyshampoo @snifellus @nidamae-approvedhpfanfics @hauntinq-6 @callm3c0nfus3d @wh0reforthemarauders @nooneeveryonenoone @mrs-snape5984 @vulnus-sanare @missgurlthang @thesecretsofseverussnape @evil-eyebrow @darlingvica @indigosparkle444 @sevprince-91 @ficswjackson @secretpandaconnoisseur @dark-t1des @nyx-greenwood99

[songsofadelaide]

"Oh, so the one percenter Officer Hibino and Captain Ashiro were childhood friends?"

You knew better than to partake in office gossip, but it was difficult not to hear things when everyone had been talking about the Third Division's new recruits. They say this year's crop is one of the best, and there was a prodigy in your midst, too, in the form of Director General Shinomiya's daughter, Kikoru. There was no doubt that the girl looked up to her as well.

It wasn't new hearing how many young bloods decided to join the Defense Force because of the cool and level-headed Captain Mina Ashiro, but her astronomical rise in rankings did not come as a surprise to many of the top brass. She had raw yet rough talent— the kind that had to be honed and sharpened like a blade meant to kill.

Ashiro was a genius. A diamond in the rough at first, but now a polished centrepiece of the crown that is the Japan Anti-Kaiju Defense Force.

It's hard to believe now she once looked up to you as her senpai. She still does, but you just don't let it get to your head. While you were glad she overcame her exhaustion ever since Director General Shinomiya took a special interest in her and her abilities, there was no denying that something inside her snapped. She would still rest her head on your shoulder every once in a while when you occupied the baths, and you could find the semblance of her tender, younger self, her lips curved to a small smile at times before she eventually shook it off.

"Does it get tiring?" You once asked her as you sank into the warm baths yourself before the fatigue from today's training further settled in your bones. You could tell that a sigh wanted to leave her lips, but she shook her head instead. "It does, but... knowing everyone gets a night of restful sleep is worth it."

What frustrated you wasn't the fact that she overtook you. It was the fact that she had to be at the top all alone.

They called you a burning star. You reached your prime way too early and burned out fast— and eventually condemned yourself to a fate of mediocrity, never overcoming the wall that both saved you from crashing even deeper and slugged your growth.

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 47%

It was always the same result for the last few years. You try not to look crestfallen when you hear Okonogi encouraging you through your comms. It was no wonder you hit a dead end as a platoon leader. They say people your age should be more accomplished— perhaps a vice-captain... But you didn't dare aspire. Aspiring was for dreamers, and more ideally and realistically, for those just starting out in the force. Old-timers like you don't get to dream anymore.

"I'm not fooling anyone... It's been years since I had my shot at a promotion. I'm not getting any better, either..."

You didn't understand why you were so hung up on the whole thing, either. Ebina was content with how things were, or at least he tried to be... But you would both be lying to yourselves if you said outright that you didn't feel the least bit threatened by the rising stars of the Third Division.

On a particularly warm night, while everyone else was already at rest, you reflected on the events of the day on the base rooftop, your can of black coffee nearly drained as a sigh that gradually turned into a grumble escaped your lips.

"Hmm. Maybe I should consider that fox-faced Vice-Captain's joke and retire early. Even though I know he doesn't mean it... But 30 is way too late to get married, no matter how I look a—"

You were so deep into your self-loathing that you didn't notice the new recruit approach you with his own canned drink in hand. "What? Are you planning on getting married, Platoon Leader?"

"Gah! O-Officer Hibino! Where did you—"

"S-Sorry! I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I just wanted to ponder a bit but I heard you, uh, talking," Kafka said with a crooked smile and hands raised in defence. "What're you saying, though? Don't you know how much skill it takes to raise your combat power to that level? Let alone maintain it..."

"Maintaining combat power is one thing, but not being able to grow any stronger is another. Every single one of the new recruits is eager to skyrocket to great heights. I'm sure you're no different, seeing as you want to... to stand next to the Captain if I heard you right the last time," you stated with a clenched fist, the coffee can only slightly crumpling in your hand. "Personally, I feel like I've... stopped growing a long time ago. Platoon Leader is all I'll ever achieve and I..."

I feel so pathetic.

"Does it really matter? Where you stand and all... Ranks are good and all, but I think carrying yourself with pride is more important," he answered you without missing a beat. There was a shine in his eyes you hadn't seen in a long time. "I know everyone calls you a burning star, but that's not what I heard from the Vice-Captain and Min— Captain Ashiro."

Hope.

"The Third Division stands because of its pillars, but cornerstones like you are important, too. The Captain referred to you as such," Kafka stated with the same crooked yet comforting smile. You've only had a handful of interactions with him, but you confirmed soon enough that he had a kindness that seemed to melt away your worries. "Besides, a burning star is still a star. It's still a dazzling celestial body, regardless of what people say about it, regardless of how burned out it is."

You had to admit that he was pretty cute, too. Then again, Tae would point out that you've always had a weakness for hard workers, so it was only a matter of time before your stupid crush was discovered— Who the hell does this guy think he is? Giving me hope, of all things.

He was a burning star, too, but he burned so bright that you couldn't look away. Maybe he wasn't a burning star. Maybe he was a beacon. Either way... A burning star is still a star. He said it himself.

"Don't retire just yet, Platoon Leader. You're a cornerstone, after all. The Captain needs you still. Besides, don't you want to see us new recruits storm the floor at missions?"

Hope was the last thing on your mind, but Kafka had an abundance of that shine in his eyes that made it hard to look away.

"Soshiro-kun was right about you," you said with a small smile closely followed by a sigh of defeat. "You're way too upbeat for someone who's only at 1%!"

— The Raid on Tachikawa Base

"Tell me something good, Konomi-chan. How's everyone else on the field at the moment?"

"Platoon Leader! You—"

You could sense the shock in Okonogi's voice even through your slightly garbled comms.

"Y-Your unleashed combat power is—!"

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 53%

While that wasn't exponential growth, that was still growth. The first of its kind you've had in years.

"A-Are you okay, Platoon Leader? Your heart rate is increasing!"

"I-I'm fine, Konomi-chan!" You stammered right back, an uncharacteristic flush on your face that your subordinates swiftly took notice of. They hardly had the chance to tease you about it when you groaned to yourself as you fiddled with your firearm. "What the hell am I getting all worked up for?..."

Your combat suit made you feel steamy all over, the heat reaching your joints anew. The surplus of power coursed through your every vein and fibre and made you surprisingly tactless. "I'm hardly at her level!"

Right from the start, you knew that you were competing with a monolith. A phantom from the past... and the present. Mina wasn't your competition. You made that clear to each other from the start. But when you remember the unusual smile that graced her face for a single moment when Kafka gatecrashed the Presentation of Enlistment Certificate Ceremony with that stupid declaration of his—

You were competing with the shadow of the Captain of the Third Division in this stupid thing called love, of all things!

The static in your comms cleared up, followed by Kafka's voice filling your ears, his tone both solid and encouraging, filling you with hope once more.

"Platoon Leader! Don't compare yourself to her! Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. Just remember that you're Captain Ashiro's cornerstone! You cover for her in places she can't reach, right?!"

Static, again, before Okonogi sends out a command for your platoon.

"We'll need you on the field soon, Platoon Leader! On the Vice-Captain's order!"

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 54%

"Let's get to work, then!" You declared to your subordinates with a smile that did not suit the situation. But seeing your improved numbers filled them with the same hope that theirs will rise, too. "How could I forget that burning star's still a star?"

[tarjapearce]

A thought on Miguel

Ya know? Every time I see Miguel I think.

Man, this man needs a hug even if he says that's he's fine cause we know he's just bulshitting himself big time. Like, he's broken, his life was shit and the little thing that actually made him happy disappeared in his hands before his eyes.

Sometimes I think that Gabriela was that inflection point where he just realizes "Maybe  just maybe I can try happiness." (Cause c'mon. In the comics dude is abused emotionally by his own mother. Always comparing him and belittling him. And we know what happened to Gabriel. and his step dad is shit. )

Sometimes I like to think that Gabriela was his redemption to all those terrible bad years prior the incident. She was his purpose. And when he saw the chance, he didn't even hesitated into dive head first into it. His biggest mistake. Although pretty much understandable. None would overlook the chance of being better or happy or do things differently, right?

Sometimes I think He just wanted to be the father he never had. He just wanted to be the role model he never had, be that safe place for someone else that he never got. And that's why I think most of us empathize with him. Mostly for not saying all of us, (Kudos if you don't ♥️) have had situations that resembled Comic Miguel and Movie Miguel's life.

And when he loses Gabi, that's a turning point for the bad to him. His main motivation to be better, happier is gone.

Instead, he kinda twists that purpose Gabi gave him to protect the Multiverse he knows. Not that he doesn't care for the Spider Society members. He knows that all of them are there because they are more capable of handling themselves. They don't need protection, but they do need a role model, someone that guides them into not fucking up like he did.

That's why he is all grumpy, tired, emotionally drained and mentally exhausted. Cause he learned the consequences the hard way, but the rest is just cool about it. (Not cool in the 'I don't care way' but more like Just 'tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it, but my way' sort of thing.)

He didn't have the proper time to actually reflect on his mistakes, not that the multiverse is giving him any break though, He is Spiderman. He just knows that his mistake CANNOT be repeated. That's why he turns even more irritable, angry, fearful, all stemmed from self loathing for failing.

The man is depressed af. And we know, he overworks himself, he berates his own mind by watching over and over the screening videos of him and Gabi, he perpetuates guilt, but he cannot waver, cause he is a role model (A self imposed one) for the rest. He's not yet he is a martyr. He's not because he shares the common goal to keep Multiverse safe, but he is since said need to keep multiverse safe rooted from his big fuck up.

But dude has a savior complex. (I think this one suits better than martyr, dunno.)

And when Miles show up and does his thing, he sees all his convictions, motivations, his purpose, everything that drives him, threatened. And that's why lashed out the way he did on Miles.

That's his breaking point. I do not agree in the things he said to Miles though, we all know that he was just self projecting big time a good chunk of that dialogue. But he just wants to contain Miles at first, but the more Miles fights, the more everything he has worked for crumbles. An act of despair and fear disguised as anger, I like to think.

He is stunned cause damn, the menace to everything he has known and built so far just escaped from his hands before his eyes and again he was unable to stop it. (Another failure for him.)

He's a walking contradiction. Mistakes for him are not an option, but he can't help but make them along the way. Like most of us. And I think that's what makes him the most human among other Spiderman. And hopefully we can see more of him and how does he deals with all of that in the last movie.

But yeah, that's just my take on him.. Might be wrong, might be 🤡 or obvious but yeah. Needed to get that out.

[locutia]

talk about monster reigen before i kill you!

Oh. As you wish then.

Monster Reigen was a creation that had been brought to life with Coward’s and my own interest within monsters, projecting neurodivergence and transgender experiences upon him on Coward’s part, and my own struggle regarding depression.

The whole reason he has became this beast was due some sort of curse that transfigured his body into something obscenely inhumane and disgusting; that form in question being his own self image materialized into a physical form.

[ Diagram by @cowardlybean ]

Each part of his new being is a reflection of how he sees himself, all meshed from his insecurities and self loathing built this monstrous form.

This is not his body. He was forced into this uncomfortable form by the curse and he is forced to deal with it unfairly. Reigen wants to become his human self, his desired self instead of this mirrored “true self” he found himself becoming.

Every step he takes, each part of his body’s movement, the feeling, the look, it is agonizing for him.

He struggles to love himself, accept himself as an actual good person, and see himself in any light that is not negative because in his eyes, he is a slimy no good conman with no sense of true identity, wallowing in his suffering and shame.

The curse utilized his depression and own mental self image to create this monster.

Muscles stretched, flesh pulled apart and reassembled, and his body changed gruesomely. None of it was nothing less than torturous.

And then, within his new form, he began to panic, frantically moving around while being hit with the repercussions of his aching appendages. All within the caring encapsulation of his beloved officer as he scratched, clawed, destroyed and decimated almost entirely any semblance of peace once held.

With the sight of his new destruction, guided by his newfound instincts, Reigen had fled the scene with no plan afterwards; all the meanwhile, Serizawa had stumbled into the corpse of Spirits and Such with the blur of an abomination.

Later on, the Spirits and Such team—made of just Serizawa, Mobu, Ekubo, and Tome— go off and try to hunt down this “beast.” They are basing off their reasoning due to Serizawa’s first impression of the monster and the state it left the office in. And so, they all band together and attempt to hunt it during later hours.

Its sleep patterns are nocturnal. Resting during the day, conveniently aligned with when Mobu and Tome dealing with their classes, and then awake in the night, when all of them can attempt at searching.

Newspapers, videos, there is so much going on about this new cryptid and yet they have still not met it just yet.

It is a game of cat and mouse between the Spirits and Such team trying to hunt down the monster who presumably taken Reigen, and Reigen being the said beast who is already dealing with self loathing and the mindset that everyone despises him.

Contrary to the negativity I have stated earlier, this is not a hurt no comfort au. There is a happy ending following the themes of acceptance and loving yourself.

Coward had also made a post about this au, seeing as we both own it :

That is mostly the basis for the au lore wise. Now, if you are curious as to what he would taste like if you were to cook him, look under the cut.

Thank you for asking.

So, now you are probably wondering as to why am I exactly speaking about eating him. Well, curiosity as to what he would exactly taste like if he were cooked due to his body being one unseen in nature.

Also the topic came to mind.

Here is the same diagram previously shown, now with coloured areas.

Dark blue / The head area : More human like. It would taste exactly as a humans would— Akin to pork or veal then as most commonly agreed upon with all individuals, mostly writers.

Red / Front half area : More red meat than anything, specifically a cow. Butchering that specific area is just like butchering a regular cow, except if that cow had claws. The claws in question would mostly just be cartilage.

Cyan / Middle area / Guts : I personally have the idea of his guts tasting akin to cow guts due to the front area also being parallel to a cow. It is also based off my bias. The guts in question are also a bit rubbery and chewy, akin to octopus or squid.

Yellow / Back half area : It tastes more like chicken rather than the front and middle areas, which taste like beef. The claws are the same as chicken feet, when cooked, it is gelatinous in texture.

Green / Tail area : The tail tastes like a grub. There are many varieties of grubs and differentiating tastes regarding species and in general. I personally would assume it would taste creamy yet greasy.

If given the chance, would I eat Monster Reigen ? Presumably not considering that is in fact just Reigen Arataka turned into a creature, still holding the same memories, emotions, and humanity ( despite what he believes ), so eating him would morally bother me. But does studying how to cook him and how he would specifically taste as a monster intrigue me ? Of course.

[pursuitseternal]

“Take My Milk for Gall:” an upcoming WIP from PursuitsEternal 🔥 UA Astarion x Fem!OC

UA Spawn Astarion x Delilah | Explicit | TBD

Summary: “I’ve taken a turn as a hero and adventurer” Astarion may not have found the slavers he’s contracted to hunt this time, but he has found one fiercely determined and mysterious female. Her tenacity is only outmatched by her secrets. But she might be just what he needs, for this quest and for more reasons than that alone.

CW: Tired, jaded hero Spawn, no Tav assumed, fem!OC is new mother, stretch marks, blood, and breast milk included, tragic past hopeful future, found family, future adoptive Dadstarion…

Tease below the cut…

Against her obviously better judgment, she tried to strike up a conversation a few times, but a terse response and a glare was enough to quiet her meager attempts. Perhaps it was the reflection of his own past, his own scars and abuse and self-loathing that made him avoid looking at her much. It wasn’t until he could hear actual tears in her voice that he stopped to listen to her pleas.

“I hear water ahead, a river. Once it’s dawn, could we stop please, I need to bathe and rest…” She looked exhausted, tired, and now pathetic.

But it did pique his conscience enough to reply. “We do need to make camp before sunrise, same as our quarry, and I do think we’ve gained on them.” He nodded to an outcrop of rocks in the hills, “I’ll make camp in this cover. Head east. The river isn’t far.” He could almost feel her relief in her bones as he directed her to find the rest she had been whining for.

Decades of repetition, some with companions, some all alone, his body made camp without a single thought about it: fire made, bedroll laid out, weapons cleaned and sharpened, tent pitched in the darkest parts of the rocky crag to keep the sun off his flesh. Supper would be dry fare for her, just some things he had scrounged from the village stores that weren’t tainted with soot. As for him, he sniffed the air looking for something warm and soon-to-be-prey, when another scent caught his nose.

Fresh blood. Female blood. The kind that came monthly, the kind he hadn’t been so exposed to since his days on the road to fight the Absolute. Yet, there was something off. “Delilah?” he called, heading towards the riverbank. He pushed through massive ferns, that scent growing stronger, now edged with something sweeter, something he had never scented before. Hurrying, his arms brushed back the thick leaves, calling her name one more time.

Her body stood in the waters, the tops of her thighs still above the surface. Dark brown and red stains covered the insides of her legs, a sight he knew. Old blood and fresh dripped down. The curves of her hips, the crest of her belly was covered in stretch lines, her skin slightly loose but no less supple. Voluptuous even. Slowly she rounded to face him, her figure in the moonlight bright against the rippling water. Her breasts, two full mounds glistening with droplets of water, achingly full, nipples hard and ripened pink. It made his mouth water against his better judgment. Her hands worked at her breast, and there was that other sweeter, strange scent.

A cup in one fist, thick streams of milk spurted into it. His eyes went wide, the shock of seeing something foreign, intimate, and… confusing. Her dark eyes sparked, almost like two nebulous voids as she locked into his gaze, but even that mysterious darkness couldn’t mask her determination.

It was a clear picture, a young mother, recent from labour and absent a babe. A long inhale is what he took as he drew towards the river’s edge. “Where’s your child?” he asked, bile and gall rising in his throat to think of the possibilities.

“She’s safe with a friend, another whore who got too ripe for business,” came the casual reply, her hand tossed the full cup of milk into the water around her naked body. Then her hands began to work the other breast. The sound of expressing milk rang against the side of the little metal cup. “I know my lass is fed and safe, but little good it does me on the road. Gotta keep myself relieved or I fear I’ll burst,” she smiled, but grin and laugh both rippled with the dark reality of their circumstances.

Astarion turned his back, apologizing. “I’m sorry… I…”

“Well, now, my hero knows why I am so desperate for my brother, and why I despair so at my… misfortune. I was to bring my babe once I had settled a bit with my brother. But with Cainan enslaved, I have no one. I have nothing.” She tossed the cup of milk into the running water again. “I don’t even have a babe to give this milk to feed,” she couldn’t hide the sigh in her throat. “What a waste.”

That tone, that despite and spite… It was too familiar, too haunting. “We won’t let it be a waste. We won’t let those slavers win,” his voice growled, an edge of ice that hadn’t lined it since Cazador’s death by his hand. “You’ll get your freedom for you and your child,” he added. And whether or not he meant it to be a vow, something settled with determination in his heart.

[hyunverse]

not worthy enough ♡⊹ i.n

i.n x reader. genre — hurt comfort. warnings — mention of insecurities. wc — 1336 words. note — thank uuu nonnie for requesting! i know it's supposed to be a short drabble but i kinda got carried away. . . also requests are closed right now so please don’t send in any.

the thoughts had been dwelling in your head for a while now. annoyingly stuck onto your brain like gum at the back of school tables. you’ve tried to deny, deny, deny the negative thoughts but to no avail — your own insecurities took over.

the heat from the shower fogged up the entire bathroom, a contrast to the cold, small feeling creeping up in your veins, tugging on your heartstrings. your tears ran down your cheeks, eyes swollen from the amount of crying you’ve done. you had been crying since the night before, ever since jeongin texted you about having an indoor date, again. he had never taken you out, ever — at first it was under the reasoning of privacy. jeongin told you that he wanted to enjoy all of you, without having to worry about other people watching. however, after months of dating, it started to feel like he was concealing you. sheltering you from the world out of embarrassment of dating you.

the mirror cleared up as soon as you wiped it down, and you visibly icked at the reflection staring back at you. your eyes were a bloodshot red, face puffed up. you loathed the sight of your own self, hyper aware of the fact that you weren’t exactly idol image. your heart hurt at the thought of understanding why the i.n would hide you from the world. your lips pursed as you got ready. repeatedly, you told yourself that maybe it was due to management not allowing the public to know that he’s dating. or something along the lines of that. you sighed. despite not feeling the best, you still wanted to see jeongin. perhaps your boyfriend’s presence would make you forget about the devilish thoughts.

it didn’t.

the two of you were sat in front of your tv, a charcuterie board sitting on a blanket in front of you. an indoors picnic — your boyfriend had said. you rested your head on his shoulder, eyes glued onto his phone screen. jeongin was showing an instagram story hyunjin had posted earlier that day — a mirror selfie of him and his girlfriend. you chewed the inside of your cheeks as you nodded along to his enthusiasm, faking a smile.

“hyung finally made it official with the girl, even posted her online,” he smiled, “he’s so whipped, isn’t he?”

“yeah,” you muttered, train of thoughts fleeing somewhere else.

the more your eyes burned, the more you blinked, a pathetic attempt to block away the tears. the last thing you wanted to do was to cry in front of jeongin, over something so stupid as well. but you couldn’t help the train of thoughts wrecking your peace of mind. if hyunjin was allowed to post a picture of him and his girlfriend — what was stopping jeongin? you concluded that it was truly over the fact that you just weren’t worthy enough to be shown, that he was too much of a bright star to be seen beside someone as dull as you. venomous words continued to circulate in your mind, to the point that it had blocked out jeongin’s voice. without you knowing, tears had already began slipping past your eyes.

“baby?” your boyfriend called out, turning towards you. he placed his phone down, looking down and frowning at the sight of you crying.

the tears continued to pour, you were past the point of trying to stop them. they wouldn’t if you tried anyway — the burden of shouldering your own insecurities had crushed you like a boulder.

"innie," your voice cracked, "'m not good enough for you?"

"what?" he replied, tone softer than a nightingale's, "what are you saying, baby?"

you shook your head, your tears blurring your vision, "'m not good enough for you, you're ashamed of me."

he was confused, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at your crying figure.

jeongin cupped your cheeks, “who said that, baby? what made you feel that way?”

you didn’t have the strength to reply immediately. your body shook as you breathed heavily, tears carelessly slipping from your eyes. jeongin didn’t push you, instead he rubbed away your tears with his thumbs. you felt yourself get carried onto his lap, body pulled flushed against his chest as he rubbed your back soothingly.

“it’s okay my love, you can cry it out first.”

the words made you cry even more — although you didn’t think it would be possible. his green shirt turned damp from your tears, yet he didn’t seem to mind. the steady beating of his breaths contrasted with yours — bodies moulded together as your heartbeats mixed and became one. jeongin was doing an impressive job at calming you down, muttering sweet confessions into your ears alike a doting mother’s lullaby. you inhaled a deep breath before leaning back to look into his almond eyes.

“my darling,” he whispered as soon as he sees your visage, “you look so pretty even when you’re crying.”

your lips quivered, "i can't stop this feeling that you secretly think 'm not worthy enough to have you."

"how so?"

"it's just that," your lips quivered even more, "it feels like you're hiding me from the world. we've never hung together outside of my house, you've never introduced me to your friends —" you croaked, voice faltering.

your boyfriend rubbed your back, "take your time, y/n. i'm here."

his eyes never left yours as you gathered yourself, taking in deep breaths and trying your best to form coherent words in your head. your vocabulary was all jumbled — you were struggling. you were struggling but you knew that it was okay, that jeongin wouldn't be annoyed.

"i just," you took a deep breath, "i want to be shown off. i want people to know that i'm all yours. i want to hold your hand in public. i want to meet the people that you love, jeongin. right now it feels like you're hiding me because i'm not enough. it feels like i'm a different part of your life. it's not nice, jeongin, i hate it so much."

he blinked. excessively, as if he was blinking away tears. you pursed your lips, "say something, please."

"y/n. . ." his voice trailed off, "my god, baby. all this while i was actually waiting for you to bring this up. i thought you weren't ready."

"huh?"

jeongin chuckled, "i've been thinking of you know, making us public for a while now but i didn't want to pressure you. you know, being in the media's range isn't the easiest thing ever, so i was waiting for you to bring this up. i felt like if i brought it up, it would be sort of like pressuring you. that's the last thing i'd want to do, baby."

he pressed a kiss onto your forehead, "do you know how much i talk about you to the boys? seungmin's tired of it. and i have so many pictures of us ready on my phone, for me to post someday. you're more than enough, y/n, and i'm sorry i've been making you feel less. you are so beautiful, angel."

you wanted to cry — happy tears this time. you pressed your face into his chest, partially embarrassed and partially in awe.

"i take it that you're ready for us to be public?"

"yes, you idiot."

sometime that night you ended up dozing off in his arms, in between stupid jokes and heartfelt confessions. the next morning, you wake up still in his arms, but in the comfort of your bed. you rolled off his arms — if you didn't he might end up with a numb hand and you weren't ready to hear his complaints. you check your phone to see about hundreds of notifications, mainly from your friends —

"y/n! you didn't tell us the jeongin you're dating was the i.n from the fucking band!"

ah. jeongin had posted a mirror selfie of you matching your outfits on instagram.

the smile that formed on your face was wider than a cheshire cat's.

taglist (send an ask to be added!) — @zoe8stay , @starlostseungmin , @bakugossanity , @hwajin , @sleepyleeji , @skizzel , @jkefelx , @asters-abditory

[melkormajere]

Disabled characters in fantasy and why the entire bullshit surrounding the ableistic arguments about disabilities in fantasy. Where people think that mobility devices in gaming could 'easily' be 'fixed' with magic and why it is incredibly frustrating.

OR What Raistlin Majere means to me as a disabled person. a Rant.

Why Raistlin Majere (And other disabled characters are important in fantasy). There's been a lot of discussion of accessibility devices being used in games. Talking about how it's 'lazy because magic can fix everything'. We would not have any of Dragonlance if it wasn't for Raistlin Majere. He is a canonically disabled mage, who was kinda (was) a jerk. He was very nuanced and important. Basic mage needs and 'spellslots' are an important part of fantasy. Much like our human bodies that require rest and nourishment, fantasy doesn't eliminate that. Raistlin Majere went to become a real mage and had to go through excruitating trials to prove he was capable of wearing his mage robes. During all of that he did some BAD things, and he offered his body to a even worse mage to help him. The Mage drained him regulary. Raistlin already was born disabled. His own self loathing against his able bodied brother was interesting, and while I could write tons about that too, that isn't what this is about entirely because there's more than that. He often felt left out, tired and rather useless and magic was what gave him 'strength'. Due to multiple things that happened to him he wanted to challenge the gods themselves and become the most powerful mage. (There's a lot more to this but for simplifying we are going with this). This is also not me condoning using disability as a 'punishment', but Raistlin already was disabled and was further pained when doing his mage trial. I've seen arguments about how gods/temples would help anyone disabled and therefore disabilities wouldn't work. Someone took a tiny bit of pity (ugh) on him and offered him something to help ease his pain, let's just call it medication for simplicity sake again. That was the most charity, even the most powerful clerics couldn't heal him or help him, whether in childhood or adulthood. Eventually he almost completely healed himself but was still very much dealing with various forms of pain, whether emotional etc. He is known as the most powerful wizard on krynn.

If we take all of that away we take away an incredibly interesting character whose disabilities helped elevate the games in which he was played in. When you work together you can accomplish so much more. When his friends were actual friends they accomplished so much together they seriously did. Yet due to his abbrasive personality he was rarely praised for the war of the lance until much later. Even his title of "hero of the lance" always seemed to come with talks about him being rather shitty until later. Throughout Dragonlance as a series (beyond the core novels) we have a lot of disabled characters and throughout the years as humans become more aware of how to write disabled characters differently we have gotten a lot more out of them and a lot more of them each providing such interesting parts to these beloved books. At an even simpler level we have gollum/smeagol, another canonical disabled charater who was kinda dick too. However without him, Frodo may not have been able to actually destroy the ring at all, and if we go even deeper into Tolkien's lore we can discover more disabled characters whether titled as such or not that seemed to be a reflection of what he experience during the war and coming back. Disabilities exist in fantasy and in the real world, and some of us chose to create characters with disabilites, and I'd really much like to believe that we can get along because the world is already inaccessible enough. Let your players use various modes of accessability if needed/wanted. Erasing these beautiful and nuanced characters would erase so much of what makes fantasy so incredible and accepting. It's always been such a mostly accepting genre, it's a way to fantasize and sometimes it's nice even in a regular day to fantasize what a beautifully crafted accessability device might look like. So rather than argue online for hours for "why disability makes no sense in fantasy" could we change it to " I am capable of creativity and inclusion". It's your fantasy game, so you get to be beautifully creative.

However, if you REALLY would take away disabilities in game because it's your fantasy game then say bye to

Raistlin Majere

Frodo -Gollum

Toph

John Silver

Captain Hook

Your random peg legged pirate

Your eye patch

Geordi La Forge

Vader

Luke

Furiosa

Matt Murdock

Professor X

Deadpool

Kanan Jarrus

Steven Strange

Bucky Barnes

War Machine

Elijah Price (And so so many more this is the lazy amount because I am SO FUCKING FED UP OF PEOPLE NOT BEING INCLUSIVE IN DND SPACES AND ONLINE) Brought to you by an angry disabled person. (I love you take good care of yourselves, also this is nuanced and not entirely encompassing all my thoughts nor does it have to be your view as a disabled person. I love you be good to yourself today please.)

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #127

It's late where I live - almost midnight, and I'm very tired. J and I are on another road trip to PA. This time, he and I are going to fly the plane he got back home. After his shift at work, we drove for 4 hours to a place called Buffalo. We will drive the rest of the way to a place called Zelienople in the morning. Then we will fly back; J will be piloting the plane, of course. J is not yet used to flying this plane, but it's very similar to the one that he already knows well; he knows what he's doing, and I trust, without question or hesitation, that he will keep us safe. I'll be back in my house by this time tomorrow with LOTS of pictures to show you, so don't you worry about a thing, okay?

Br came over and I introduced her to the chocolate-cheddar cheese I got when we went to see the eclipse (it tastes like fudge; it's SO GOOD!), and that was pretty great! But I'm still pretty tired because I spent most of the day before the trip being emotional support for various folks. Some of the interactions challenged my boundary skills, but this is a good thing; we don't grow without some level of discomfort, and our boundary skills never improve if we don't get practice. I'm much better at it now than I used to be, and I'm looking forward to seeing where I'll be with this skill in another few years.

Since writing the letter to my inner child, I've had a lot more faith in my own ability to grow, change, and improve. It's kind of refreshing, actually. Self-loathing is kind of heavy, isn't it? I know I'll probably have days when I'll get a setback, but I've already grown enough in other ways to be very familiar with that phenomenon. One of the most important things one must remember when having a setback is that having a setback, in and of itself, means that there has been progress, and progress can be reproduced over and over and over again until it sticks. Human brains are learning machines, after all. I hope you'll put all the effort you can into learning how to genuinely love and care for yourself; it's one of the most important things you can do.

Oh! I made myself a strawberry rooibos tea today, too! Normally I like to drink black tea or green tea, but today I wanted to limit my caffeine consumption somewhat; caffeine dehydrates a body, and I've been struggling to keep hydrated lately for some reason; figured the thing to do, at least for today, is to try not to make my body use water to cleanse the caffeine from my system. Here's how today's turned out...

This one starts out orange-ish, and then resolves into a lovely shade of red:

I added some creamed honey; it settles to the bottom quite nicely:

And from there, I added heavy cream:

...I think you might like this flavor. It's like strawberries and cream; it's sweet and tart and very milky in flavor. Sometimes I think about combining this one with the vanilla-rose black tea (which is another one I think you'd absolutely love). I'll do that soon and tell you all about it, okay?

I don't have much else to say today; I'm pretty drained. But I do have a lot of pictures I took for you while we drove, simply because I know you like nature. I'll show you the ones that turned out best. It'll be mostly pictures of the sky, though; we didn't get moving until like 6pm-ish, so the lighting wasn't great for general scenery...

...Hey Sephiroth? Next time you're up in the sky, I hope you'll make it a point to dance merrily amongst the sun-drenched clouds - especially during dawn or during sunset, when they're painted in all sorts of vibrant colors; their kaleidoscopic brilliance would look amazing reflected off of you, I'm sure. And maybe you'd have fun, too.

That's all I've got for you today. Thanks for tagging along with me on this brief adventure. Please remember that there are folks here who like to imagine that the prismatic colors splashed upon the clouds by the morning and evening sun are the same as the ones that radiate from the deepest parts of your soul.

I love you. I'll write again soon. Please stay safe out there.

Your friend, Lumine

[juniperwoodwell]

And Down We Fall

••••••••••••••••••••

Word count:1503

Paring:Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warning(s):Angst,Fluff,Sad Matt, Stress.

(Photo not mine)

"open the door, matt!" Y/n yelled from the hallway outside Matt's apartment. She knocked a few more times, and each time hit the door harder and louder; she knew she probably woke some of the neighbors, but Y/n was pissed off and worried generally wasn't a good combination. After a few more reps to the door, it swung open, revealing a pretty tired and beaten Matt. "Would you knock it off?" he said to the shorter woman; she noticed he was wearing his glasses which was uncommon at home. "Why weren't you answering mine and foggy's calls?" she asked; her tone was calm, but her body radiated anger. Matt sighed and stepped aside from the door to let her in. When she entered the apartment, it was like a train wreck, take-out boxes all over the counter, papers spread across the floor and table, and beer bottles littered around the room. "Shit." She cursed, taking in the mess. "What happened?" Y/n asked as she watched matt walk to the fridge and grab a beer, "Life happened," he said, his tone was quiet and worn out, like he hadn't slept in days, which was very probable considering the visible bags under his eyes that he was trying to hide behind the glasses. "Matty. Are we going to talk about this?" Y/n asks softly as she starts to tidy up the room.

"About what? About my life falling apart? About o-our relationship crumbling at my feet? About what, Y/n? Tell me." He demands, his voice cracking under emotions he's not ready to deal with. "About you dropping off the face of the earth for almost a week." She sighed, not wanting to make any more waves; she walked up to matt and gently placed her hand against his lightly bruised cheek, he sharply sucked in a breath, and he crumbled, his angry, self-loathing demeanor shifting to something softer and more vulnerable. Y/n smiled and took off Matt's glasses, his eyes glossed over with tears.

"It's too much.." Matt spoke, his voice horse and quiet, broken. "what's too much, sweetheart?" Y/n cups Matt's face with both hands "everything, my job, the fighting, the noise, us." the end of his confession stung like a bad hangover in y/n's heart, but she ignored it. Helping Matt was all that mattered to her right now. "You're just overwhelmed, matt" "I'm far more than just overwhelmed; I'm overworked and overstressed. I thought I c-could handle it all." his voice began to tremble, tears began to fall, "I-I thought it would be better if I tried to fix everything, but I can't keep going" "no, honey, of course, you can't" The room was illuminated by the neon billboard in purples and blues, cooling matt's face in hues that reflected his current emotions, of coarse he couldn't see it but Y/n could and it broke her heart to see the man she loved in such a dark place, for months they had worked on Matt's issues. Still, he was bound to fall again; they knew it. Nothing particularly wrong happened to their relationship, except they couldn't see each other as much because of work. A choked sob came from matt as he let his walls come down; he wrapped his arms around Y/n, pulling her tightly against him. His head pressed firmly into her shoulder as he cried his stress away. Y/n held him just as tightly. Her hands brushed through his hair and rubbed his back.

Slowly they fell to the floor in each other's arms. Y/n rested her back against the wall, matt straddling her legs as he cried into her shoulder. A while later, matt had calmed down enough to move and sit beside Y/n. His head was resting against her shoulder, and his hand was holding hers. He focused on her steady heartbeat to help calm his own. "I'm sorry I ignored your calls and worried you; I know you were about ready to knock my teeth out when I opened the door," he chuckled lightly, "I just wish you would have told me you were struggling" "I know.." silence filled the air, "Can I clean up?" Y/n asks quietly, making matt laugh "yeah, go ahead. I know it's a wreck in here. " He says as he stands up, Y/n smiling as she looks up at him. "That's a safety hazard, Murdock."  "Oh, trust me, I know. I kept tripping," he said as he helped Y/n up.

[A/n: It has come to my attention that I have been switching in and out of the present and past tenses. I'm too lazy to fix it rn tho. But keep reading and ignore that painfully annoying fact.]

Less than twenty minutes go by as they clean up the apartment together, Matt is resting on the couch, and Y/n is making tea in the kitchen. "What do we want to do, Matt?" She asks, walking out from the kitchen with two mugs in hand; She gives matt his mug, warning him it's hot as she sits beside him. "About my breakdown? Well... The Matt Murdock side of me says we should probably talk about it, but then the Daredevil side wants to bottle it up again." "well, it's a good thing you're legally Matt Murdock and not Daredevil because, one, having Daredevil as your legal name is stupid, and secondly, Matt Murdock wants to heal his wounds instead of putting a bandaid on it. So you can either talk to me, foggy, Karen. Or get a therapist, but you need to talk about this stuff. I know I can't talk, but we can always keep working on this together." Y/n says as she moves, laying her legs across his thighs, her hand reaching out to comb through his hair. Matthew was silent as he drank his tea; y/n knew he was trying to think through everything. "Honey, You look exhausted" "Mhmm, I am. All that anger and crying wears a guy out." he chuckles. "I can head home if you wanna go to bed." "No. I-...I want you to stay" "Really? Alright, I didn't wanna walk home this late anyways. I'll sleep on the couch tonight." Y/n says with a smile, but Matt sighs, "That's- No. Y/n, I want you to stay with me, Like sleep in my bed so I can hold you. I always fall asleep easier when you're around; your heartbeat is like a lullaby to me. Please, will you stay with me tonight?" He muttered most of what he had said, but that didn't stop Y/n from hearing it all, leaning in closer to matt, Y/n kissed his cheek, jaw, then neck. "Of course, I'll stay, Matty."

Matt leaned forward, placed his mug on the coffee table, then took Y/n's and did the same thing. He moved his arms so one was under her knees and the other around her back. Then he stood, carrying her to his bedroom. "Going a bit fast, are we, Murdock?" Y/n teased, "No, Certainly not. I'm Catholic. Remember?" His response gets a laugh from Y/n as he sits her down on his bed, "Do you wanna change?" "Into what?" "Well, I have plenty of shirts you can choose from, and I have a pair of sleep shorts I keep just in case you ever wanted to sleep over. Glad I did," He admitted in full confidence. "That's sweet of you, Matt. I'll grab a shirt and the shorts and change, then ill be right back," so y/n did as she said she would, taking no longer than six minutes. When she came back into the bedroom, matt was already in bed. Wearing a pair of sweatpants but no shirt. "Well, this is certainly a treat," Y/n says as she climbs in under the covers, lying on her side facing Him."Oh, Is it now?" He says as he turns towards her so they're facing each other. "Mhm..." "You okay?" he asks, placing his hand on her hip "Yeah, just worried." "About me?" Y/n nods. "Don't be, sweetheart; I know we can get through this as we have with everything else. Thank you for pulling me out of the hole I was digging. And for cleaning up, you didn't need to do any of that, but you still did, so thank you, baby." Y/n had fallen asleep as he was speaking, his voice soothing her. When Matt realized she was asleep, he chuckled and pulled her against his chest, "How'd I get so lucky to love somebody like you" He whispered into her hair and soon fell asleep. Her heartbeat led him into a peaceful slumber.

A/n: Hey! I hope you liked this one; I've been rewatching Daredevil to help capture Matt's personality. I was feeling kinda angsty, so I just went with it.

[godunlap]

wild card— talk about anything you want that you haven’t been asked about

the way you're such a genius for this bc i have the PERFECT topic i've been stewing on for literal weeks !! okay so there's a lot to unpack with cate & indira's relationship which i'm constantly doing but another dynamic that had a big impact on cate after leaving home was professor brink. almost as much as shetty, definitely not in the same way. he made his attempts at pulling cate under his wing once she was brought into the inner - circle of secrecy — but she formed longstanding [negative] opinions of him early on.

( FIRST IMPRESSIONS ) :

⑴ when cate was first introduced to brink, she was reminded what it was like to feel small again. trying to introduce herself, he barked at her to speak up - by the end of that initial meeting he'd coined for her the nickname 'little bird' which he used & she loathed until his death. it was all in the small things with him. the way he'd ruffle her hair or ignore her in a larger group. eventually, every time she saw him coming she found herself wanting to sink into the floor. very much -

[ FURTHER OBSERVATION ] :

⑵ as cate's reflection continued, there was only one aspect of brink that she couldn't shake, & that was the majority of people's reactions to & opinions of him. the innate respect he inspired, how loyalty was almost a given. more than indira even, brink knew how to reel people in. a skill cate knew she needed to give a convincing performance of a halfway normal girl once she arrived at god u. with that understanding, she finally allowed herself to take in his advice & lessons without immediate resistance. she adopted several bad habits of his, ways to give oil - slicked handshakes & spin a daedal web of lies. the dynamic became more so -

he basically encouraged the worst in her, where indira was still trying to teach cate how to 'normally' fit in. while cate eventually found her own balance (often keeping the darker parts of herself locked up tight) these differing approaches to her social training left a complex & self - opposing mess in its wake. cate had learned the ins & outs of contrasting forms of manipulation. with brink, it was the control of fear & respect, garnered by the imposition of his own 'larger-than-life' image of himself. whereas indira knew how to coax people gently, slowly pulling them onto her side until their loyalty was as sure as anyone else's.

( GOD - U ) :

⑶ upon the finality of cate's new persona, brink had slowly discovered the method to her self - reconstruction. how she took the pieces she liked of those around her & threw away the rest. as he sat with it, he came to the conclusion that he was not a fan. from then on he wrote her off as an unworthy student & prospect for the school of crimefighting. while indira & cate decided on her change of major due to health concerns, brink was in the dean's ear the whole time, urging it on.

brink also made a point of fussing over andre, jordan, & luke with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm whenever she was around, making sure she felt as as invisible as ever, an attempt to convince her of her own irrelevance, like he never gave her the time of day at all. & in his show of omitting, she is thrust further into her need to be acknowledged -

at the point of brink's death, they are still very much in this place, never having found any further common ground. while cate is not overtly happy with his demise, she does note mild relief. more than that, her first thought upon hearing the news, hearing that it was luke, is : ❝ he probably deserved it. ❞ what she doesn't allow herself to acknowledge is that if he deserved it, does it not track that she would as well?

[outeremissary]

Balthazar 🌹 🍂💧

BALTHAZAR MY BELOVED. I am So Sorry about how long this took I uh. Spent a long time overthinking music for no reason in particular.

[prompt list]

🌹- What's this oc's biggest fear?

Balthazar’s greatest fear is being controlled- the loss of his autonomy is his worst nightmare, and he feels as if he’s spent a lifetime struggling to squirm out from under someone else’s thumb. He doesn’t want to feel like he can’t dictate the path of his own life or who he becomes. Of course, underneath that is the lingering fear that he’s already in that trap and there’s no escaping it… the expectations that have been heaped on him from early in his life as a result of his celestial bloodline have left him keenly aware that there’s a thing he’s naturally supposed to be, whether he wants to or not, and his inability to feel sure that he isn’t being pulled in some direction by that even as he rails against it troubles him. Is there something in his muddled ancestry that compels him to learn about it? Is there a touch of Elysium in a fondness for elegance in art? If he feels empathy for others or chooses to go out of his way for them, is that by his choice or is it the inescapable pull of fate? When he tries to make his magic into something that works for him, that serves his ends, does he only fall deeper into the snare of nurturing that inescapable piece of himself? As loathe as he is to embrace his ancestry, he’s painfully aware that his failure to reject it entirely is partly by choice. He’s afraid of being controlled, afraid of losing a sense of control, and yet he lives entangled in the very embodiment of that fear.

I guess a lot of his character and the general thrust of his character arc is negotiating with that fear because it’s something that will never really go away. He’ll always have anxieties about being exploited or shaped, and that metaphysical paradox of his existence is, well, his existence. He can’t be something else. And being able to navigate sites of especially high tension and vulnerability- the physical changes brought on by his bloodline, his growing relationship with Tristian, even his growing reputation as a ruler - all of that requires being able to accept the uncertainty of whether it’s all really under his control.

🍂- What music does this oc like?

Balthazar likes music with some energy. He’s spent a lot of time in dance halls and bars, and he enjoys the kinds of things that play there: upbeat, vibrant, dynamic, and good at keeping things moving with consistent driving rhythms and lively melodies. You might say that he was very familiar with Absalom’s popular music scene. He enjoys clever wordplay and flow, but isn’t overly impressed by overtly crass lyrics or things that come off as too self-important. He also has a healthy respect for music that includes a lot of improvisation- it’s an engaging display of skill and it keeps performances from feeling repetitive. Highly formalized performances are, by contrast, not especially compelling. I think that he’s the kind of person who would always enjoy a kind of music more with context and history though. Knowing how it reflects the people who produce it and the setting it was intended for makes it more compelling and alive.

He also has a nostalgic fondness for the songs that the landlady used to sing when he was a child- largely Keleshite romantic ballads with emotive, poetic lyrics. Many of these are more somber and forlorn than his usual preference. One particular song about a tragic lost love has stuck with him more than the rest, and he often absentmindedly hums or sings it when he’s on his own.

💧- What is this oc most passionate about?

This was an oddly difficult question because I could think of a few things he’s passionate about, but trying to determine what he’s most passionate about had me kind of stuck. I kind of wanted to say “it’s the fashion things, it’s the high culture image crafting,” but I feel like that kind of misses the point even if it’s something he certainly does love. I think the major underlying theme there is that he really enjoys the game of existing in high society. The artifices of public life naturally interest him, with complex, messy social relations straining at the spoken and unspoken rules, traditions, and rituals holding them in check. The masquerade of it all, the pageantry of symbols: it’s compelling. And culture is a big part of that. I wouldn’t call Balthazar an artistic person or someone who’s generally motivated by a deep creative curiosity or passion, but he’s very interested in how aesthetics communicate and how they make an image that’s presented to the world. So there’s the love of crafting a personal image, having an aesthetic (a very indulgent one) and making it manifest and presenting a certain way to make a very intentional impression, but at the heart is the thrill of being able to take control of this social arena and bend it to what he wants. He likes being important and powerful and feeling in control, and he does have something of a love for intrigue despite his general air of misanthropy and complicated relationship with the public eye. While he’s certainly a person who’s very driven by his own goals, I think that even without specific ends he finds a lot of satisfaction in social manipulation. It just compels him somehow. Feeds that sense of power. Fun. Tempts a sense of mischief.

[erisluna35ocblog]

On my OCs' relationships with their respective mothers...

Keagan

They're cordial but with a lot of issues neither know how to discuss. Keagan's a bit of a troublemaker, see. He's doing it for attention cause his parents are always too busy for him. While his mother, Eileen, she's the less strict parent. She understands what its like, can empathize with why he's like this. She was a child like him once. Much like her son, Eileen didn't get much attention either. So unfortunately, she doesn't know how to mother. She awkwardly tries to compensate by giving Keagan presents. Thankfully, having alternative parental figures through Shizuke and Fiona's families, his teacher and his uncle and aunt, he's grown to be more understanding of his parents as he grew older. They're both fuck ups but he's come to understand they at least tried. I doubt they'll ever become a close tight knit family, there's just less bad blood than there could've been had he not had competent adults to take care of him.

Fiona

She gets along pretty well with her mother, Bel. Even idolizes her. She was the cool parent who gets it, unlike her uncool glitzy dad. One of the first people she felt she could be open to. Definitely tries to emulate her chill, strong, loyal and the way her mother is often praised by others as a good listener. Definitely more of a momma's girl.

Shizuke

Mild wacky parent - serious child vibes. Shizuke takes after his grandmother the most after all, which includes being far better at house chores than his clumsy mother, Yuriko. She's a cheerful and extroverted person who could get along with pretty much everyone, something Shizuke wishes he was more like. However, for one reason or another, she doesn't get to directly be there for Shizuke in his teen years. In the OG, it's cause she died while in the MLB au, she has to return to Japan for work reasons. He misses her. She's also the reason why Shizuke's drawn to quirky optimistic or overconfident people like Keagan or Blair.

Natalia

Mommy issues, her mother Meryll is the worst. When she got fed up with the role of housewife, she ditches her family, including her three daughters. Very self centered. Yet, a few years later, they meet again and her mother is actually impressed with how talented Natalia is. She takes after her mother after all. Everything exceptional about her, she inherited from her mother. This is why she considered taking back Natalia, though it's only because she sees the girl as an extension of herself. Natalia resents her for only ever putting herself first above her own daughters - she doesn't even care for Natalia's sisters who weren't exceptional enough in her eyes. Natalia has self loathing and abandonment issues because of her mother. It's worse in the OG because she's clearly a sea witch like her mother, unlike her sisters who were more mermaid like their father.

Damien

Granted, I don't really put much emphasis on his mother in particular cause both of his parents are on a similar boat. Vaguely elitist, putting their pride above everything and as their son, it's Damien's duty to uphold their pride. But they'd both drop him like a hot potato when he failed. So he's never close to them. He tries his best to protect his little brother from them.

Zephyr

This one is built on irony. In the OG, Liera is initially presented as some sort of antagonist trying to get her son to sign a magical contract he vehemently refuses to sign, to the point of running away from home. So Keagan and the rest of the group did their best to keep her away from him. Then it turns out the magical contract was for Zephyr to transfer his curse, which was slowly killing him, to her. So she could suffer in his place. It's supposed to be reflective of how Liera isn't the best mom but she is well intended. Liera got Zephyr in her teens, too young to be a mom but she did her best anyway. She resents she couldn't get Zephyr the best life as she and her husband are on the run and could only earn money through theft and cons... Taking the curse for him, she sees it as the least she could do. But Zephyr loves his parents, for better or worse, and wanted to hold out hope he could find a way to break the curse by travelling with the prince. However in the MLB AU, Liera is just terminally ill and Zephyr isn't taking it well to the point of getting constantly akumatized the week he found out.

Blair and Blake

They both consider their mother to be the sun in their lives. A woman who shines as brilliantly as the sun. Bianca is the epitome of their ideals: a strong sense of justice and love for her family. Even moreso in the MLB AU where she's a literal superhero, albeit an unsung one who stayed in the shadows. Blair more openly looks up to her, trying her best to emulate her (however people say in the inside, she's more like her dad). Blake however, is uninentionally more like his mother. As ruthless as the twins have grown ever since their parents died, there will always be a part of them that wishes they could be more like their mother. There's a heavy implication that the twins are attracted to their respective love interests because they see a bit of her in them. Even in death, she has a heavy influence in how the twins are like. Their parents are always at the back of their minds.

[yeehawpurgatory]

Listen, I know this might sound untrue, but Arthur IS mostly a bad dude—or at least not as good a man as some claim. (I love him still but hear me out)

This is not me arguing “he’s bad so you shouldn’t like/glorify him” at all, I promise—I can’t stand that rhetoric. It’s just that I see a lot of “he’s so kind” “so good at heart” “so hard on himself” and I wonder why folks so often adamantly, un-ironically claim him as a misunderstood gentle giant type.

The fact that he’s mostly nice to those he cares about and is willing to help strangers in need (never mind both of those things are optional anyhow, you can just as easily play him as an asshole who doesn’t come to anyone’s aid—) doesn’t undo the harm he’s responsible for throughout the game. Nor does him being told to do so by an authority or being a victim of circumstance undo it.

His good doesn’t make up for his bad, and I don’t think it actually needs to. His bad certainly doesn’t take away from what makes him compelling and likeable to the audience; but within the context of his world, he’s right to be unhappy with who he is. It’s not a matter of low self esteem or self worth issues, his unhappiness with himself comes from self awareness.

(Saying this with a grain of salt because you know, fictional character with no real agency whose actions are as such for plot reasons), he may have had a shit hand dealt to him, but he’s a person who makes bad choices. He’s charming and relatable (and hot lol) but I’m not sure I understand the whole simplifying his character to “good person stuck in bad situation” thing, when it plainly isn’t the case, no matter how much we like him.

I think the “you’re a good man Arthur” line gets thrown around as proof of him being good at heart; but I think it’s more like, he needed to hear it to act as such. He needed to be told how to be good and pushed into reflection and immediate actions. He needed to be told that he’s a good man by others because he needed permission in a sense to be different than he knows himself to be. (Take a shot every-time I say good)

“The Thomas Downes mission was out of character” it really isn’t. He says what kind of man he is multiple times, he hammers the point home that he’s a bad man. And while there is definitely a bit of self loathing in that sentiment, he’s still speaking his truth. He’s just unhappy with it; he IS the type of man to commit an atrocity like beating a dying man for a few bucks. It goes against the beliefs fans have projected onto him, usually coming from their own moral compass instead of what the character shows his own to be, and that’s why it ‘feels so wrong’ to see him doing something actually despicable.

We arrive at this misunderstanding due to fandom projection, as well as this rampant desire to problem solve by ‘fixing’ the canon material to fit a sort of agenda. Ie, ‘I only like the good attributes in this character’ ‘it’s only acceptable to like this bad dude provided he’s always feeling guilt for his actions’ or ‘he’s not really at fault for them.’

But the thing is, even if Arthur is at conflict with his actions, the guilt he may feel isn’t an indication of anything pure within him. He’s in total control and chooses still to go along with everything. I tend to think an action done in guilt is functionally the same as an action done with enjoyment. Arthur feeling bad at the end of the game for his faults and complicity doesn’t mean he is good. Nor does it mean he ‘was a good the whole time’, nor does it excuse what he’s done.

We don’t have to make him a better person than he is in order to like him, is what I’m trying to say I guess. It’s fine to acknowledge all parts of him, to do otherwise does a disservice to his character as it often flattens them beyond recognition. And it’s also fine to hone in on what you appreciate most and write and draw and celebrate that while functionally ignoring the rest if you so choose—but it’s also fine (and usually important) to acknowledge who the character is without the plethora of projections placed upon them.

Arthur ends the game with a loving act, more or less saving John, saving Abigail, Tilly, paving the way for them to become something better than he was. None of these things are meant to be a great action done to save his soul or redeem him in any eyes, especially not his own. He dies on a good note (and yeah I would say low honour/back for the money is still a ‘good’ choice for a low honour story), and shifts his focus to the last good deed he’s done in his final moment as a way to leave off peacefully despite all his wrongdoings. He doesn’t get redemption really, and he doesn't wholly achieve 'goodness', despite all the potential for growth the audience can see in him, that’s the deliberate tragedy of it all.

[parrot-with-a-mohawk]

Magical Destroyers theory 4

Back to the Parallels

So, my theories got busted, but there is still stuff that can be salvaged.

This has episode 11 spoilers, so it will be under a readmore

As I mentioned back in theory 1, there are quite a few parallels between Shobon and Otaku Hero. Now that we know Shobon's origin, the parallels are even clearer.

Now we know why Monitor head is always at a boundary. It's because the world in the anime is just a virtual one that he created with the help of Origin (it was kind of obvious that the mascot character was more than it seems, since it was weird that people just accepted it being there, along with the actual magical girls, its creations).

So, when Shobon was saying all that loathing stuff about otaku, it wasn't a reflection of Otaku Hero's thoughts, but Shobon's. He was projecting his own self-loathing onto every otaku. That means one thing:

Shobon is the protagonist, while Otaku Hero is the antagonist.

Back in his world, Shobon was a lowly, selfish, self-righteous, unwashed otaku who would blast people online all day for not liking his game. He was hiding his self-loathing behind a mask of self-entitlement. Otaku Hero is the opposite. He has overcome his struggle with that back in episode 1 and the rest of the series is him teaching his teachings to others and motivating them. He is what Shobon would become if he overcame his own struggles in his own world and improving himself as a person, instead of hiding in his bubble (in this case, his game). OH is Shobon's foil.

Or, in other words, while Shobon is God, Otaku Hero is Jesus, if God and Jesus were against eachother instead.

Jesus imagery:

(Anarchy, where are you touching)

One more thing: notice how Otaku Hero has Origin's portrait on his shirt, showing that Origin is the real mastermind and probably created Otaku Hero as Shobon's foil, so the game has a meta plot, fit for a god's tastes in entertainment (one thing sustaining that OH is part of Shobon/Origin's world is that, while Shobon is on the boundary, OH fully submerges in the water).

As for the girls being clones, yeah. It's just that they weren't OH's figurines, but Shobon's. Or they were another reflection of Origin's creations.