#Outlook festival

[dubforms]

Glume & Phossa step up to the plate with a heavyweight session, packed full of low-end gems. With killer releases regularly on rotation at the festival, including their latest collab EP via Deep Medi, we're excited to see what they come with for the long-awaited return this summer in Tisno.

[42frankee]

Ant TC1 & DLR 'Dispatch 360 Sound', Dispatch Recs Boat Party w/Visionobi & Joe Raygun, Outlook 2018 by Dispatch Recs | Ant TC1 https://ift.tt/t0sFBJN

[finexbright]

i am honestly so in awe of how when louis first announced the away from home festival, he did it completely for free and the logistics of handling that must've been insane and now, he's been able to take it to two entirely different countries, on different continents and the venue he has now is literally four times bigger than the first time. this time next year he'll either be doing a full blown 80k capacity venue or doing a proper weekend festival and it honestly fascinates me how when louis puts his mind to something, he never half arses it, he gives his all to it and it always soars so high

[flintandpyrite]

Six fireworks at 4:16 AM, sounded like gunshots. I’d been awake since 3:45 for no reason and Frankie was on the couch playing dragon age (¯\_(ツ)_/¯) so we both got up and mutually agreed it had to be breakfast time. I made cornmeal sourdough pancakes, we ate breakfast and had coffee and then immediately had a sugar crash and went back to sleep. Woke up for real at 9:30 and went for a 5k run. I feel awesome, I love morning sleep and I love pancakes and I love Frankie and I love running!!!

[rosetidestella]

Royal festival hall

[hadesoftheladies]

This might be one of the most important posts I've ever made. (Please Read)

@bakerstreetdocter per this post where i responded to the sports poll i made

on the poll for why folks in radblr didn't watch women's sports, the overwhelming majority of you said it was because you just weren't interested. i needed to make a whole post to respond to this because let me tell y'all something:

WOMEN'S SPORTS IS A HUGELY IMPORTANT INSTITUTION FOR ADVANCING WOMEN'S RIGHTS AND DISMANTLING PATRIARCHY

Let me tell you why.

#1. Sports and Male Hegemony

Do you know what keeps patriarchy so strong? Male camaraderie. The reason rapists and paedophiles don't go to jail, the reason men are paid more, the reason patriarchy even fucking exists is because men invest primarily in men. Sports doesn't just reflect this, it PERPETUATES it more efficiently than most other institutions (like it's right up there with religion and porn). I'm not kidding. Male sports is where men go to bond over everything. They bond over beating up their wives (I've seen it in real time), they gather to celebrate male strength and achievement, and elevate male dominance. The reason sports is so important to the patriarchy is not just because it perpetuates, centralizes and publicizes male excellence, but because it nurtures male camaraderie. It gives them space to be openly "manly," because it is really a festival for male dominance in every way.

Not only that, but it RADICALIZES boys and men in male supremacist ideology. If male peerage is where boys and men slowly corrupt each other with misogyny, men's sports is where that sort of thing is concentrated to the MAX. I'm talking MASSES of men and boys. Uncles and fathers taking their sons to bond over men they believe represent them and their perceived superiority. This has also had consequences for women and girls. Domestic violence rates shoot up during different (men's) sports seasons. The demeaning and brutalization of women is common in these environments.

If you think porn is a huge industry that radicalizes boys and men into becoming rancid misogynists, sports is the next big thing you should worry about, because however effective porn is for dehumanizing women, men's sports is the one most effective for popularizing male dominance and supremacy on a global and generational scale. Forget music and movies, THIS is something feminists should be fucking worried about.

(Read more of this article here.)

#2. Women's Representation, Power & Social Influence

Compared to the crumbs of proper representation we have for women in music, movies and mainstream literature, women's sports centres and normalizes every kind of woman you can think of. Big women, small women, muscular women, single women, masculine women, feminine women, women with wives and husbands, mothers, tall women, unattractive women, cocky women, etc . . .

I have never encountered a visual franchise that humanizes women more than women's televised sports. Never. Not in movies, not on the internet, not in shows. The raw humanity and personhood of women is given centre stage in every angle. We see women sweat, we see women bleed, we see women bump each other in the chest, we see them fight and scrap, flaunt, beg, roar . . .

This humanization has affected not only women who finally feel represented by other women to the world, but even men. Many men and boys who watch sports have far more positive outlooks on women than their counterparts. They are forced to appreciate the skills, strength, intelligence, and personhood of women.

In sports psychology, there's the topic of how people tend to form identities around the athletes or teams they admire. They perceive themselves as an extension of those teams/athletes. This is a very powerful social phenomena, because it strengthens intra-community investment by giving the individual a personal stake and sense of belonging.

It is powerful when men view male athletes and men's teams as an extension of themselves. When mothers take their children to these games and kids identify with the male athletes on the pitch. It is very effective in re-enforcing male-as-default for everyone.

But it is also powerful when this happens for women. When men, women, children begin seeing female athletes and teams as extensions of themselves, it strengthens the perception of kinship with women of all kinds. It humanizes women in an intimate way. Where it's no longer about the "women's team" but about "US." When men and little boys identify with female athletes, point and say "US" instead of "THEM" it lays crucial ground for male allyship.

This is partly why many women's leagues across multiple sports got banned historically. It was because they completely overhauled the idea of women as other and that was a threat to the status quo, because if men started identifying themselves with women, started seeing women's victories as theirs, started seeing women as their heroes, it made male dominance unnecessary and obsolete. It made women heroes for men, women, boys and girls to believe in. It made them leaders and icons. Champions. It destroyed all the lies patriarchy lived off of.

#3. Female Centricity, Community and Consciousness-Raising

I've talked about what this does for men, but I want to zero in on what this does for women.

Right now, in society, men have multiple institutions and industries to boost their camaraderie and male supremacy, whether that be sports, religion, gaming or pornography.

Now, can one of you name a single institution or industry that brings women together to bond over womanhood? Can you name a bonding ritual for women that doesn't include femininity? Most of you will probably only have entities like certain female musicians (taylor swift, blackpink, etc) rather than industries. Currently, the biggest industry that women bond over (and even then, it's not really a social event) is make-up. We're mostly broken up into different fandoms, or maybe we find each other studying certain women-dominated degrees. In most other cases, we're with each other doing something domestic (baby showers, cooking/planning during family get-togethers, etc). (though based on trends, university campuses may soon become women-dominated spaces in totality XD). The domestic sphere is perhaps where most of the consciousness raising has occurred historically.

Unfortunately, the biggest contributor to women's consciousness raising with the most global reach is our shared trauma. That is the one thing that unilaterally unifies women and girls everywhere, and even then, not totally.

While our shared suffering has been a great tool in radicalizing us for change (though it's already an L that we're suffering in the first place), it isn't something that actually empowers the community of women. Radicalization does not equal empowerment. And women need hope and joy to have strength to fight. They need to identify with each other, not simply with each other's suffering. If anything, women are in desperate need of an industry/institution that isn't crippling them with enforced femininity and isn't centred on their misery, but rather, celebrates their womanhood and the joys of being a woman. Centres womanhood. Something that gives them space to celebrate themselves.

The things that do that are the ones fiercely under attack, e.g. women's sports, lesbian festivals, etc. You need to have a hard think at why that is to realize how vitally important things like this are. The difference between something like women's sports and lesbian festivals that gives women's sports an advantage in being the most socially influential, is that women's sports encourages the participation of everyone and posits itself as relevant to all people within the geographic location it is a part of. So it gets more eyes and has more sway.

I have been brought to tears seeing crowds of thousands scream to a deafening degree over a young woman scoring a goal. I'm talking men, women, children losing their fucking minds. Chanting a woman's name from the stands. Rushing to take pictures with her. Cheering for her to break another record. Women need to know there are alternatives to being hated by men. You guys need to know what it feels like to see entire cities show up and show out for women. Where women are glorified, practically worshipped, not for being sexually attractive, not for being the epitome of beauty, but for being skilled, for being amazing women. You need to see women horsing around, unrestrained and free to talk shit. You need to see them acting goofy, without makeup. You need to see them surrounded by love and support no matter who they are. You need to see them having the time of their lives with each other. Real women, doing real things. You need to know what it's like to see a woman do incredible physical feats. You need to see how powerful the female body is. You need to see this day in and day out. You need to know it like you know your name.

Because that's what men have every day. And when I tasted it, I couldn't get enough.

The next generation of girls and women need this so fucking bad. Now more than ever.

#4. The Destruction of Gender

(Portia Woodman-Wickliffe, rugby player for New Zealand)

Which leads me to my next and pretty much final point as to the necessity of women's support of women's sports. Whether or not you're willing to admit it, most of you aren't interested in women's sports because of your gendered socialization.

This could be subconscious resistance (e.g. you're so used to it being mocked you can't fathom getting into it), or it could be simply because of your upbringing and current social environment. I've noticed, that most people engage with sports based on a pre-existing culture concerning sports. Most sons are introduced to men's sports by their fathers, and, as established earlier, it becomes a bonding ritual. Many of us didn't have those experiences as girls, so we never saw the value.

But I think this is also a part of enforced femininity. Right now, some parents don't want their girls watching women's sports because of how unfeminine the women are (and this usually goes hand in hand with homophobia, since a fair share of athletes are lesbian/bi). We're taught to be ladylike. To be demure. Female athletes can rarely afford to be. Even if they wear lashes to the court XD. They have to body their way through. They have to work and scrap and fight for their victories.

It's even more sad to me, since I'm now a very active watcher of women's sports (which I decided to get into on a whim one night, no lie, like I didn't feel like it I just decided to Google random stuff and look at highlights and then I got invested) how crippling that feminine socialization has been to me. How much I've missed. Not only has watching women's sports increased my own pride and confidence in my body, given me a space to experience joy in being a woman (outside of femininity), but it has also made me feel far more connected to women in a predominantly positive way (rather than trauma-bonding). It has humanized women for me, too. Even as a feminist. It's really kicked the shit out of what internalized misogyny I had left.

This is the primary reason women's sports has been so vilified, as I have pointed out in my other post on this topic: it is the loudest anti-gender campaign in society. It destroys patriarchal myths about womanhood and makes femininity and masculinity obsolete. This is why its still resisted today, and this is why it's integral to the feminist fight. Not only does it empower the fight for women's liberation, but it also bolsters movements for things like LGB rights, another movement that seeks to demolish the institution of gender in society.

Conclusion: This Is Urgent

While women's sports is on the up-and-up, female athletes NEED predominantly female audiences to ensure the integrity of their leagues and to minimize exploitation. If men remain the predominant stakeholders in women's sports, they get to demean, belittle, objectify, starve, sabotage and command the female athletes. They get to use women's sports to perpetuate misogyny and the dehumanization of women. At a time where women's liberation is gaining global traction and is heading to a potential climax with patriarchal society, this is something that is vital to our fight. I'm dead fucking serious. It stands to be one of our best assets in the global fight to humanize women. It is one of the best anti-patriarchal propaganda machines we have. We must protect it via our support both financially and with our time. We cannot let men take control of one of the biggest weapons we have. Girls need this. Boys need this. Society needs this.

WE need this.

[astrosky33]

The Best Career for you: Asteroid Industria

◉ Industria is an asteroid in astrology that can represent the long term career industry you will work in. Based on the readings I’ve done this asteroid is very accurate in predicting your long term career

◉ Asteroid Code: 389 -> How to find asteroids

House Meanings

Asteroid Industria in the 1st house

Your career will be a major part of your identity (more so than others careers would). Your career may change or constantly be testing your outlook/view on life. This career will be something you’re very passionate and ambitious about. You may use lots of mannerisms in this career. It most likely is going to involve your physical body, fighting, beauty, confidence, and/or individuality

Ex: Athlete, Model, Makeup Artist, Fighter

Asteroid Industria in the 2nd house

Your career will be a major source of stability (not just financially but also emotionally) for you in your life and your career may boost your self esteem/self worth. It is going to revolve around material items. It most likely is going to involve either your singing voice, finances, cooking, giving, receiving, and/or material resources

Ex: Singer, Banker, Accountant, Chef, Product Designer

Asteroid Industria in the 3rd house

In your career you will use your voice to spread an important message. You will express many of your ideas to others. It most likely will involve communication, literature, teaching, transportation, influencing, social media, the mind, and/or phones

Ex: Author/Writer, Social Media Influencer, Driver, Teacher

Asteroid Industria in the 4th house

Your career will be in an industry where you’re using lots of emotion toward your work and/or caring for others. It won’t be a job far out of your comfort zone. It likely will involve houses, home related things, food, and/or self-care

Ex: Real Estate Agent, Nurse, Baker, Home Designer

Asteroid Industria in the 5th house

Your career may revolve around you and be in an industry where a lot of spotlight/attention is on you. You’re going to work in an industry where you use your talents. It’s going to be a career you really enjoy and that makes you happy! It likely will involve entertainment, romance, events (such as a festival or concert), children, talents, and/or drama

Ex: Actor, Event Planner, Child Psychiatrist, Talent Agent

Asteroid Industria in the 6th house

Your career will have a set schedule and steady income. In this career industry you’ll constantly be working on self improvement. It likely will involve health, fitness, hygiene, your analytic nature, animals/pets, and/or giving service to others somehow

Ex: Doctor, Nutritionist, Fitness Trainor, Dentist, Vet

Asteroid Industria in the 7th house

Your career will be one that’s based around equality or partnership. You’re going to be working towards harmony or peace in this career. It will likely involve commitment, marriage, attractiveness/attraction, contracts, conflicts, negotiations, and/or equality/sharing

Ex: Wedding Planner, Lawyer, Model, Fashion Designer

Asteroid Industria in the 8th house

Your career will be one that’s based around a lot of transformation, power, or mystery. In this career industry you’ll constantly be working on changing for the better. It will likely involve crime, death, taxes, psychology, surgery, investments, the stock market, business, loans, secrets, your inheritance, reproduction, and/or spiritual transformation

Ex: Detective, Psychologist, Tax Preparer, Surgeon

Asteroid Industria in the 9th house

Your career will be one that helps you grow a lot as a person. In this career industry you will learn a lot more than most people do in their career. It will likely involve travel in general, air travel, exploration, television, media, teaching, higher education (college/uni), religion, beliefs, ideologies, philosophy, interviews, courts, law, cultures, ethics, viewpoints, and/or languages

Ex: College Professor, Pilot, Newscaster, Photographer

Asteroid Industria in the 10th house

You are more likely than others to be very successful when having this placement in your chart. Your career will teach you how to set long term goals for yourself and succeed. It will likely involve being in charge/a boss, business, peoples reputations/images, sense of mission, responsibilities, being famous, and/or status

Ex: Manager (anywhere), Publicist, Movie Director

Asteroid Industria in the 11th house

You’re more likely to gain wealth from your career with this placement since the 11th house represents financial gains -> read more here. Your career will be one that introduces new ideas to the world and may be a more unique career compared to most peoples. It will likely involve technology, film, politics, science, inventions, chaos, sudden change, friendship, groups, desires, manifestations, hopes/wishes, humanitarianism, social networking, clubs, and/or parties

Ex: Engineer, Scientist, Film Producer, Politician

Asteroid Industria in the 12th house

Your career is one that will transform you spiritually. In this career industry you will heal others. It will likely involve spirituality, hypnotism, isolation, music, karma/karmic debts, hidden enemies, the subconscious mind, subconscious memory, sleep, dreams (the ones you have when you sleep), old age/people, mental health, fears, losses, endings, impersonations, closure, self-undoing, bed pleasures, intuition, illusions, and/or the afterlife

Ex: Therapist, Song-Writer, Astrologer, Psychic

➠ [READ] the examples listed aren’t the only possible careers for each house only some, so there can be more interpretations than the ones listed

𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚! 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘆𝘇𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗮 𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗼𝗶𝗱 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴

𝗦𝗨𝗕𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗕𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗠𝗬 𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗢𝗡 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗺𝗲 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁

𝗠𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

© 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[sleepymarimo]

𝕨𝕖𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕤

summary: after becoming the greatest swordsman and learning of his bloodline, the next logical step for zoro would be to return to wano and marry into the kozuki family, right? if only you didn't look so good as a bridesmaid... pairing: zoro x afab!reader cw: mdni, vaginal sex, drunk sex, infidelity, cursing, mutual pining an: this idea has been in my head for a while, so... enjoy!

It's the day of the wedding.

Well, his wedding.

After being the world's greatest swordsman for a few years, Zoro had decided that he had wanted to return to Wano. He never explained why, barking at whoever asked him that it was none of their damn business. The crumpled up paper you'd found in the corner of the training room, which contained details about his lineage, gave you an idea of why he was adamant on returning.

The swordsman was someone you admired very much, from his sometimes frustrating temper to his unshakable will. After sailing together for so long, it was difficult to not develop feelings for him. You liked to think that the two of you were relatively close or at the very least that he tolerated your presence more than others. He never strayed too far from you and even shared his sake with you on occasion, his annoyed grumbles doing little to hide how much he enjoyed providing for you- even if it was just a sip from his bottle.

Your outlooks on life might have been different, but there was a lot to learn from one another. This learning was often done on warm nights aboard the Sunny after a few bottles of sake and a playful spar. Even when there were no conversations happening, you'd enjoy the comfortable silence and the sense of security he brought to you.

Yet, ever since he had achieved his goal of becoming the greatest swordsman, you had to admit that he seemed… different. He of course was as brash as ever, always ready to stand by the crew and act as a protector when necessary, but he seemed to be itching for something. He was lost, plain and simple.

Your mind, ever tumbling with thoughts, wonders what the green haired samurai's goal was in returning to Wano. To reconnect with his roots? To stay? You doubted he would, but the thought still made your stomach drop.

Now, a few weeks later, here you are at the wedding celebration of Zoro and soon-to-be-wife, Hiyori.

Celebration is an understatement, as the whole thing could be confused for a festival. An entire courtyard full of seats, all open to the people of Wano. Its extravagant and lavish, with vendors and performers ensuring that the party would last well into the night. The tables are piled high with a plethora of food and sake. Hiyori had wanted a grand ceremony and it was definitely something, though the large crowd and the unavoidable spotlight didn't seem like something Zoro would enjoy. After the bachelor party, which involved the guys drinking until they couldn't stand, Brook spilled to you and the girls that Zoro hadn't even been the one to propose. Allegedly, he was just going with whatever his teal-haired partner wanted, and she was happy to take over as long as she had the samurai by her side.

The whole thing didn't quite sit right with you, something gnawing at your chest. Jealousy? Worry? You weren't exactly comfortable bringing it up with anyone else, but judging by the knowing looks that Robin sent your way or how Luffy would gaze off to the side and pucker his lips at the mention of the wedding, you could tell that you weren't alone in your thoughts. While you would ask Zoro yourself, the way he responded to Luffy's meddling a couple of days ago has you hesitant to do so.

"But Zoro!" Luffy had whined, wrapping his limbs around the swordsman with a pout. "What about-" Zoro's words were spoken through clenched teeth, one of his calloused hands tightening into the fabric of Luffy's red kimono. "I dare you to keep talking."

Currently, you're chatting it up with Nami and Robin in the bride's quarters. The three of you are in the bridal party, getting ready for the celebration that is soon to be underway. As per Hiyori's request, the bridesmaids are fitted into navy blue kimonos that are woven from the softest material you've ever felt. Your hair is neatly styled and your makeup light as you help the other girls get ready for the wedding. Your chest tightens every time your eyes glance over at Hiyori, her radiant beauty and cheerful demeanor causing your confidence to waver.

The whole thing has you craving some alone time before you go out there and watch your vice captain be wed, so you stand from your mat and give Nami and Robin a small, slightly forced smile. "Hey, I'm gonna take a quick walk. D'you guys remember where that nice koi pond was at?"

Something flashes in Robin's eyes and she sits up a little straighter, giving you one of those smiles that you've come associate with trouble. She gives you directions, but they're a little all over the place and have you questioning every turn. You'd been wandering around the halls for a while now, sure that you were lost as you murmured some curses to yourself.

You're about to turn back altogether when you pick up on a familiar energy. It's Zoro's, of course it is, but there's something different about it. The closer you get to the groom's quarters, the more you pick up on the underlying currents of unease than emanate from his aura. Worry grows in your chest, as such levels of doubt and anxiety weren't usually present in the swordsman. The fact that he isn't even bothering to conceal these emotions is even more concerning, since you knew he had a very good grip on his haki.

One of your hands comes up to lightly knock on the sliding wooden door. You give a small greeting, telling him that it's you.

Zoro, who had been staring blankly at the wall with a bottle of sake in his hand, snapped out of his daze when he heard your voice. He quickly straightened up, his usual irritation returning to his face as he roped in the tendrils of unease that he had unintentionally let slip loose.

"What the hell do you want?" He grumbled, his voice a bit hoarse from the tension. He didn't bother to open the door, expecting you to understand that he wanted to be alone.

“Zoro…” You sigh, your tone laced with caution as you stand behind the door and make it clear that you won't budge until he confirms that he is alright.

"Seriously, I'm fine.” He replied, his voice strained. "Just leave me alone. I'll be out in a minute." His tone was defensive. Though he tried to hide it, he couldn't deny that the weight of the wedding and everything that came with it was overwhelming him. The anxiety and doubts were gnawing at him more than he cared to admit.

Before he could ask you to go away again, he felt a knot forming in his chest. He sighed, realizing that shutting you out wouldn't solve anything. You of all people could ground him, could be there for him when he was feeling things he had no idea how to process. It was a trait of yours he envied, your ability to show people warmth and empathy without a second thought. He needed that, needed you, needed every bit of you.

He finally slid open the door and revealed himself, looking disheveled and restless. His bandana on his arm was slightly askew, and the collar of his ceremonial kimono was tugged open, the belt loose. His green hair seemed even messier than usual, disheveled.

"What the fu-" Your eyes widen and you quickly enter the room, sliding the door closed behind you. The sight of him makes you raise your hands up to help, but they remain suspended in the air as you ponder where to even begin with him. The smell of sake is strong, his posture tense and his eyes slightly blown from the copious amounts of alcohol that's in his system.

“I don’t- Zoro, what’s going on?” You ask, your head tilting.

A light sigh tumbles past your lips as you tug his kimono closed, scrambling to soothe out any wrinkles and make him slightly more presentable. Where were the rest of the groomsmen? Grumbles are all you hear from him and it doesn’t make the process any easier. After you attempt to smoothen out his hair, he scowls and ruffles it up again.

“This whole damn ceremony.” He growls, shaking off your hands and turning on his heel as he walks to the table to open up another bottle. “It’s not-“

A long sigh is heard from him, the sound rumbling in his chest. He takes a long swig from the bottle, wiping away the excess sake from his lips using the back of his hand. He shakes his head and turns back to meet your gaze, taking a few steps forward until he’s in front of you. When he speaks, his tone is stern but forced, like he’s putting in effort to remain calm. “I’m not sure this is what I want.”

His admission leaves you momentarily stunned as you try to make sense of his words. Your hands fidget at your sides, your voice laced with concern. “The wedding? Hiyori?” His state ignites something within you, an overwhelming urge to comfort him in any way you can. "I thought you wanted to come back to Wano."

“Both.” He confesses, spitting out the word like it was made of poison. “And I did. I’m just, damn it, I don’t know! I'm already the greatest swordsman, so I should be out here and doing all this domestic shit, right? Coming back to Wano like my ancestors would've wanted? Marrying into the damn Kozuki family?"

The pieces slowly come together. A swordsman who has accomplished his dream and is unsure of what goal to chase next. On paper, it sounded ideal, like a fantasy that only one in a million could achieve. Yet, Zoro is restless and unable to feel at ease. He's taken to following expectations in a bid to fill the small gap of emptiness that came with establishing himself as the strongest swordsman, a title he fought for almost his whole life. Now that he had completed it, he struggled to find purpose, to find a use for himself other than being a fighter.

His frustration is clear, from the way his jaw tenses to the rigidity of his stance. He’s itching to release his emotional tension, his body twitching in anticipation. It's like watching a caged animal. You’re silent for a moment and sense that he has more to say. He huffs and stares down at you with an almost unreadable expression, the distant sounds of the celebration barely audible through the wooden door.

His mouth opens, before he quickly closes it and clenches his teeth together, looking away. Red tinges his cheeks, from the alcohol or something else, you cannot tell.

“Can I try something?” He asks with only a slight slur, stepping closer. His voice is low and gravelly, his eye shining with a drunken determination that hides something you can't pinpoint just yet. “To see if I’m doing the right thing? With the right person?”

You release a breath that you don’t even know you’re holding, nodding slightly. You’re unsure of what to expect, but there was nothing you wouldn’t do for your crew, especially Zoro.

“Yeah.” You affirm, your voice a bit more timid than you would’ve wanted as you feel the heat radiating from his body into yours.

He grunts in acknowledgment, his eye assessing each and every one of your movements. For a few seconds, he doesn’t do anything. As you’re about to open your mouth, he brings a hand up and places it at the nape of your neck.

You don’t even have time to ask him what he is doing before he brings his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter closed, nails digging into your palms as they tighten in response to the sensation.

It was wrong, wasn’t it? Here he was in his groom’s attire, his own wedding ceremony about to be underway. You should be pulling away, stopping him from betraying the woman he was set to marry within the hour.

Yet, when his tongue swipes across your lower lip, you part them without question. He groans. His other hand finds purchase on your hip, rubbing circles on the sensitive flesh there using his thumb. The sake from his tongue fills your tastebuds as he eagerly explores your mouth, drinking in the taste of you as if it were his own brand of liquor.

You couldn't resist him even if you tried, your hands sliding under the collar of his kimono and gliding along the skin of his shoulders and chest. He melts under your touch and takes this as a sign to bring you closer to him, eliciting a gasp from your lips when you feel his already half-hard cock rutting against your tummy.

A string of saliva tethers you two together when you finally pull away, your face hot as he stares down at you with a possessive affection. His gaze shifts from your eyes to the rest of your form, your figure accentuated by the kimono that hugs you.

The effort he puts in is minimal as he wraps his arms around you and raises you off the ground, your hands tightening on his shoulders, though he wouldn't dare drop you. He lays you on one of the soft mats which adorn the groom's quarters, kneeling between your legs and lazily grinding his hips against yours. The sensation has your back arching and your panties dampening.

"Least Hiyori can do one thing right." He drunkenly groans as he continues to grind his dick against your clothed slit, his hands firmly gripping your thighs as he looks down at you. His words are slightly slurred, the lust in them more than apparent. "Gettin' you all nice n' pretty for me, wrapped up like a fuckin' gift."

You hiss and buck your hips to meet his thrusts against your core, your hands tugging at the collars of your kimono in a bid to find some reprieve from the heat that's coursing through your veins. He gets the idea and doesn't waste another second before sliding the fabric off of your shoulders.

His steel colored eye drinks in every inch of you, his hips jolting forward when his calloused hands cup your breasts and knead the soft flesh. Your whines only increase when his thumbs tease your hardened nipples, sending waves of pleasure right to your core. You catch sight of his tongue swiping across his lip before he leans forward and captures one of the pebbled buds into his mouth.

Your hands tangle into his green hair as you hold him there, his fingers lightly tugging and rolling at one nipple while his tongue swirls greedily around the other. The groan he lets out against your breast is desperate and hungry, his hips continuing to grind against yours. He's completely hard by now, and what you feel against your clothes has you thinking about how full you're going to be.

Its already too much and you swear that you're seeing stars.

Through pants, you manage to grab his free hand in one of yours and guide it towards your aching cunt. As soon as his hand slips past the waistband of your underwear, his fingers become coated in your arousal. They swirl just outside your entrance before coming up and messily rubbing at your clit, making you gasp and clench around nothing. When he finally slides a finger inside, your walls pulse around the sudden intrusion. He shudders, wondering just how good it'll feel around his cock.

He adds another finger, then another, every thrust and curl bringing you closer and closer to the edge. When he hits a particularly sensitive spot, you choke out a low moan. "There, there, there!" You cry, feeling your thighs starting to tense.

A low, guttural noise erupts from his throat at the way your pussy is starting to tighten around his fingers. He tugs on your nipple a little harder, his teeth grazing along the other. The sound of wet slaps echo throughout the room and its downright dirty, only increasing your desire for him. Your pupils are blown when you look down at him, his ceremonial kimono making him look unbearably handsome. He makes for one hell of a groom.

When you gasp, he gives your nipple one last lick before gazing up at your face, eager to see you come undone. "C'mon dollface, give it to me." He gruffly orders, curling his fingers just a little more.

You only babble his name before everything gets hazy. Your walls clamp around him and your hips buck desperately into his fingers. The waves of pleasure cascade down your whole body and in the midst of it all, Zoro leans forward and captures your mouth in his. He eagerly swallows all of your moans and cries, continuing to thrust his fingers into you until he deemed it necessary to stop.

Satisfied by the blissed out look on your face, he tugs off his hakama and frees his cock from its confines. He gives it a stroke or two to relieve some of the tension, before he aids you in shedding the rest of your kimono.

He settles once more between your thighs. His eye is fixed on the wetness pooling in your core, his hand lazily guiding the head of his cock up and down your slit.

“Been thinkin’ about this pussy for way too long.” He growls, positioning himself in front of your entrance.

His tone has you whining, your hips gyrating in a way that has his tip slipping into your cunt. The action has him groaning, his patience finally snapping as he buries himself inside of you to the hilt.

The stretch is mind blowing, your hands coming up to his biceps and squeezing the taut muscles in an attempt to ground yourself. Your body reacts to the sudden fullness by clenching tightly around him, the spasms only serving to heighten his pleasure. The grip he has on your hips strengthens and you’re sure it’ll bruise.

In his drunken state he wastes no time, his hips hammering into yours with utter desire. His breaths are heavy as he stares down at you, enamored by how your mouth hangs open and how you cling to him so desperately.

Your back arches, hips angling in a way that has jolts of pleasure running up your spine.

“H-hah! Zoro!” You babble, your whole body hot with delight. His biceps feel like steel under your palms, the sensation making your head feel even lighter.

Your pleas spur him further and he tugs your body closer until your thighs rest snugly atop of his. He releases his grip on your hips, placing his forearms on either side of your head as his thrusts become short and forceful. The muscles in your legs tense at the new angle and you mewl.

The tip of his cock pounds into your cervix, making you let out a choked moan as the pain and pleasure mingle into one glorious sensation. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and you bury your head into his neck. With a light head, you plant sloppy, open mouthed kisses onto the sensitive flesh there in an attempt to return a fraction of the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Fuck!” A groan tears out of his throat and you can feel the vibration from his chest. “Takin’ me so well.”

A particularly sharp thrust has your breath hitching and your eyelids fluttering, your head falling back slightly. His cheek is pressed against yours, his skin cool and clammy from the thin layer of sweat that has formed on his body.

Your eyes lose focus and you pant helplessly. His earrings dangle in front of your face, the metal pieces clinking together in a rhythmic melody that rings louder than the wedding bells banging in the distance. “S-S’good!” You stammer, your grip on him tightening.

Another curse or two spills from his lips, his words grunted through clenched teeth. “Yeah? That right?” He smirks, absolutely reveling in your pleasured state, his core tightening as your body clamps around him in the most delicious way. You have him close, too close, and he doesn’t want this to be over just yet.

His cheeks are colored red when he sits up and pulls out of you. A whine falls from your mouth, pleading with him as you buck your hips for any sort of touch. Your thighs hang over his, while his frame towers over you. “M’not done with you, yet.” He roughly reassures while he brings a hand up to your thigh and rubs gentle circles.

He starts to run his other hand up and down his length, positioning the head of his cock right up against your puffy clit as he jerks himself off to the sight of you. Every stroke of his hand has your hips bucking in pleasure as his tip hits and swirls against you, the clitoral stimulation sending you spiraling. There’s not much to do other than writhe and babble praises at him as you feel your climax inching closer, his tip leaking precum right onto your wet clit. You feel another orgasm creeping up on you, the coil in your tummy ready to burst.

"C'mon!" You whine, your hips bucking as you look up at him with desire-glazed eyes. "Zoro, please! Wanna cum!"

He doesn't deny you, he never would, so he makes sure to keep hitting that spot until you're arching and mewling for him. The way your eyes screw shut and your mouth falls open has his chest swirling with pride. Just as you get pushed over the edge, he makes his move.

Without much warning other than a low growl, he folds you in half until your thighs hug your chest and your ankles rest on his shoulders. His hands are secured under your knees, ensuring that you won't wriggle out of his hold. In this position, your pussy is presented to him beautifully and he sinks into you as you cum.

Your walls are still spasming, clenching when he pries you open with his cock. The gasp that leaves your mouth is akin to a sob as he brutally hammers into you, chasing his own high. The overstimulation is too much and you try desperately to wriggle from his hold, but its useless.

Yet, when your eyes catch a glimpse at his expression, his lustful gaze and reddened cheeks, you can't help but let him crack your knees open a little wider.

"Atta girl." He praises with a half smirk, his thrusts becoming short and erratic.

His grip on your knees tightens and he throws his head back, utterly consumed by how your plush walls are squeezing him. When his breath hitches and he grunts out you name, its not long after that you feel a hotness in your core. His cum coats your insides in bursts, the thick, white ropes pooling all around. Everything sounds more wet, more raw, as he continues to shallowly thrust into you, riding out his orgasm.

He finally lets your legs go and they tremble as they settle back down around his hips. When he collapses onto you, his skin is hot against yours. He rasps out some breaths, his back slowly falling and rising. You can feel his heart beating strongly against your chest, the sensation grounding you.

His body atop of yours serves as a sort of anchor, your thighs twitching as his hips continue to gently rock against yours. He takes a few deep breaths, his head turning to the side to catch a glimpse at you. Lazily, his nose nuzzles your temple.

“Fuckin’ marry me, woman.” He grumbles, his tone stern as his eyelids flutter closed. "You're the one I want.”

Of course, you can't say no.

In your post-coital haze, you can't help but wonder what mess is going to come from this, but Zoro has always had a way of calming your ever-racing mind. So instead, you sigh, running a hand through his slightly dampened hair as a corner of your lips quirk up into a half smile. "Can we still have cake?"

He snorts in an attempt to hide his laugh, saying nothing as he flips you onto him and gives your ass a slap.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 5

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

Benedict's eyes scan the words across the page. After your confession, he proceeded to buy one of Talbot's your poetry books.

'Tis in your eyes I seek comfort.

Your arms I find solace.

In your lips I find love.

'Tis in you that I find the whole world

Standing before in great beauty

But at an arm's length is where I stay.

The second eldest Bridgerton is in awe. Your words carry such deep meaning, a sense of longing. Is this how you feel? Had someone captured your heart and he was none the wiser?

So many questions have risen since he's learned of your secret identity. Your poetry carries a deep sense of love, desire, passion. He never expected such feelings to come from you. This is a completely different side of you he is now seeing.

In the past, when you shared your poetry with him, they had a light, romantic touch. A sense of naivety and fairy tale outlook on love and life. But as Talbot, it was different.

"Helloooo?" Eloise waves her hand in front of Benedict, breaking his concentration.

He slaps her hand away, "What?"

Eloise snorts, "I have never seen you so deep in a book before, brother."

"A few ladies mentioned Arthur Talbot's work and I figured I see what the fuss was all about."

His sister rolls her eyes, "Women fawning over men waxing romantic poetics. Typical."

"I cannot wait for the day you fall in love, sister, and make an absolute fool of yourself." Benedict stands from his place at the table in the drawing room. He steps out to see Anthony and Kate escorting you to the door. His eyes brighten, "Y/N, I wasn't aware you were here."

You nod to him, "Apologies, Mister Bridgerton. I was simply here to discuss...business with Lord Bridgerton," you gesture to Anthony.

Benedict frowns, "Why such formality with us? We've been friends for years."

"Aunt Eliza advises me that I should be formal with you. She said that there may be men who envy the idea that I am close with you. So it is best we remain more...formal."

Benedict's shoulders sag, "Very well. We mustn't deter any...future prospects."

You nod, "Thank you for understanding," you face Anthony again and curtsey, "My Lord, thank you again for the list." You then face Kate, "I shall see you later, my Lady."

"Of course. I look forward to spending more time with you."

You proceed to take your leave, Benedict's eyes following you as you exit the Bridgertons' home.

"Excuse me," Benedict murmurs, heading straight to the study and pouring himself a drink.

Anthony clears his throat as he enters the room, "Will you be okay, brother? Truly."

"I have to be. There are much better men out there that will be able to provide the life and freedom she deserves. I need to accept that." Anthony, approaches his brother and gives him a reassuring pat on his shoulders, "I commend you for doing this. It won't be easy, but with time, I'm sure you'll be alright."

"Yes...time."

_____________________________

"Tell me about yourself, Miss L/N," Lord Belmont says as he turns you about the ballroom among the other couples.

You have to admit that the man is handsome, "Well I love poetry and to read. I am a fair player of the pianoforte as well as the harp. I know Latin and Greek. I adore animals."

Lord Belmont hums, "How do you fare in the outdoors?"

"I enjoy my time riding and walking amongst nature."

The lord scrunches up his face and distaste, "Oh no. If you are to be my wife, you shall be inside at all times being lady of the house."

You look at him in disbelief, "Am I not allowed to step outside at all, my Lord?"

"Of course, but only when we need to attend balls or important festivities."

Thankfully, the dance ends and you quickly and politely excuse yourself. You head straight to the refreshment table. You grab a lemonade and gulp half the glass down.

"Are you well? You practically ran from Lord Belmont," Kate asks as she approaches you at the drinks table.

You hum, "While Lord Belmont is a handsome man, I do not think he would allow the...freedom, that I desire."

Kate nods in understanding, "I see. Well, onto the next then?" She hooks her arm around yours and guides you to the the corner of the room where Anthony, Benedict, Daphne, and a man you haven't seen before stands with them.

"Apologies, I bumped into Miss L/N at the refreshment table. She needed a break from dancing."

Daphne's eyes light up, "Wonderful! Miss L/N, this is the Duke's friend, Lord Montclair, a marquess" she gestures to the dark skinned man dressed in a navy blue velvet suit.

You curtsy, "Good evening, Lord Montclair."

He nods to you, "A pleasure, Miss L/N," he gives you a kind smile.

"Montclair, you have French heritage?"

His smile grows wider, "I do. My father is French. Have you been?"

You nod, "My family and I would travel there for the summer," your smile weakens, "Unfortunately, I have not visited for years now."

"I understand. It has been some time since I have visited as well."

You and the Marquess continue to look each other with kind eyes. Benedict hides his clenched fists behind his back. Kate watches her brother-in-law with careful eyes.

Daphne is beaming as she speaks, "Lord Montclair, Miss Y/N is well-versed in poetry."

"Really?"

You shy from his gaze, "Yes, um, my mother would read poetry all the time. I fell in love with it. I love how much emotion one can convey through few lines."

"She writes poetry, as well," Benedict speaks and you look at him in surprise, "The way her words can make you feel so much in small amounts of verses...it's a beautiful feeling."

You give him a grateful smile and turn back to Lord Montclair, "Mister Bridgerton flatters me, but I am a novice when it comes to poetry writing."

"I do hope I get to read some of your writing in the future, Miss L/N."

You giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up as Lord Montclair gives his attention to you, "Perhaps sooner than expected, my Lord."

Lord Montclair steps closer to you, "I know you are taking a moment from dancing, but perhaps you have space on your dance card for me?"

"Of course, my Lord," you offer him your dance card and watch as he scribbles his name in the next space, which happens to be for the next dance coming up.

"Oh, it seems our dance is here," he holds out his hand, waiting for you with a smile.

You place your gloved hand in his and follow him as he escorts you to the floor. You glance back at the Bridgertons, who all watch you with eager, careful eyes.

As they all watch you waltz with the Marquess, Benedict asks his sister, "Do you vouch for the Marcquess?"

She nods, "Yes. He is very kind. He enjoys reading and archery-"

"Brother, Y/N excels in archery, correct?"

Benedict clenches his jaw, "She does." His eyes never waver from you as you smile while dancing with the marquess.

"Looks like there may be some things they have in common," Kate says, eyeing her brother-in-law.

"How wonderful for them," Benedict murmurs as he walks away from his siblings.

Meanwhile, you and the marquess move along the ballroom floor with the other participants.

"The duchess tells me that you are looking for a husband this season," Lord Montclair says with curiosity in his tone.

You sigh, "Yes, and I shall admit that the search hasn't been very fruitful." Montclair snorts and you immediately apologize, "Excuse my forwardness, my Lord-"

He shakes his head, "No no. Please, continue. I can admire a woman who freely speaks her mind."

You nod, "I just look for a man who can give me certain freedoms. A husband that will allow me to pursue passions of mine, not expect me to sit there to be seen and not heard."

The marquess hums, "It just so happens that I am in the search for a wife."

You arch a brow at him, "Oh?"

"Yes. To be transparent, I have been grieving for the past two years at the loss of my wife. I loved her dearly, but I miss the companionship."

"I am sorry for your loss, my Lord. I also understand the yearning for companionship."

"Thank you. No one could ever replace, Maria, but I would like someone to be at my side as I continue on with life."

"Tell me about her," you kindly request.

You watch as a smile grows on the man's face. He goes on to share stories about Maria and you share things about yourself. You see the sadness in him but the willingness to put himself out there again. It's admirable.

________________________

You spend a large portion of your night conversing with Lord Montclair. The man was intelligent, charming, funny, and kind. He was the perfect man you see yourself marrying and yet...your eyes still wander towards Benedict. He spoke with some lords, danced with a few women. You knew you initiated the distance between you and Benedict, but that didn't mean it doesn't hurt you.

That man has held your heart for several years and it seems he will never reciprocate the feelings you have for him. So it's best to start the process of moving on, hopefully, with Lord Montclair.

And Lord Montclair did not disappoint when he called upon you the next morning.

He sat across from you in the sitting room, Aunt Eliza nearby going over some paperwork.

You look down at the bouquet of flowers, your favorite, the very ones you mentioned last night during your dance with Lord Montclair.

"Have you read any new poems today?" You shake your head and Montclair pulls out a book you are very familiar with, "Have you read Arthur Talbot's work? He's fairly new yet quite popular already."

You bite your lip to prevent you from bursting into a fit of giggles, "I adore his work. He has an impressive way of words."

He opens the book to a dog-eared page. He clears his throat and begins to recite,

To love you is to bathe in your light

To sway to your laughter,

With its melody and rhythm

To swell with pride when your eyes gaze on mine.

For that, I am whole

And you are forever my muse.

You felt a little...odd. Considering that not only is Lord Montclair reciting a poem that you wrote, but it's also about a man you are trying to get over. Not what you expected when you received your first caller.

"I believe that was one of Talbot's earlier works, yes?"

Montclair nods, "Yes, but I still believe the feeling of what he was trying to convey is very much still there, don't you agree?"

"Very much so, my Lord."

After some lengthy discussion about Talbot's work, you two move to the piano so you can teach him how to play.

"I never did have much of an ear for music. My mother was quite disappointed in me when I was unable to play any instrument she placed in my hands."

You chuckle, "We shall start with something easy." You show him how to place his fingers on the keys, giggling as you move each finger to the right location.

You continue to laugh with each other as you teach him the simplest of songs, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

As you laugh when he gets the wrong note, a footman enters the room, "Miss L/N, you have another caller."

Daphne enters the room and you immediately stand, "Your Grace!"

The duchess' smile grows at the sight of you and Lord Montclair, "I do hope I haven't upset you with my intrusion, but it is nearing lunch and Lord Montclair hadn't return. But I see why now." she gives you a teasing look.

"I apologize for keeping Lord Montclair for so long, your Grace."

"Nonsense, Y/N. I was just checking that our dear marquess is alright."

Lord Montclair chuckles as he, too, stands from the piano bench, "As you can see, I am quite alright, but I suppose I have overstayed my welcome."

You shake your head, "Of course not, my Lord. It was a pleasure seeing you. I hope to see you again soon."

He faces you, "I hope to see you as well," he gently grabs your gloved hand and places a kiss atop it.

He then bows to your aunt, "Miss Y/N, good day."

"You as well, my Lord," your aunt responds with a wave.

You curtsy to Daphne, and she and the marquess both leave your home.

[okkotsuus]

FALLING (shoto t.) !

features: shoto todoroki

contents: shoto's past mentioned. set in sport's festival. mutual pining (kinda). unhealthy relationship with love. hurt/comfort. 0.7k words

notes: feeling kind so this is hurt/comfort instead of just hurt...

shoto can't help but feel haunted by his father. enji's shadow towers over him from all angles, no matter how vehemently he rejects him.

it affects every single aspect of his life: from himself, to his friends, and especially: love.

he finds love to be possibly the most confusing feeling. ingrained into his body is the idea that it is pain: from both his father and once rei. but he also knows the tenderness of it from fuyumi and his mother.

in many senses of the word, he finds himself torn. between what he has known of love and what he knows love should be.

that's why he can't bring himself to act on the unknown feeling in his chest forming towards you. it sends him into a standstill, standing on the precipice. he doesn't know what lies at the bottom: should he allow himself to fall.

you, who smiles at him. you, who does not treat him as if he were endeavor's son before a person. you, who is so tender in everything that you do.

for a long while, he despised you. thinking himself growing soft and straying from his ultimate path of vengeance against enji todoroki. he doesn't offer you the slightest bit of affection in return. he doesn't even look you straigh in the eyes.

it's not until the words of izuku midoriya crawl into his mind at the sports festival that he feels that deadbolt around his heart click open.

his ears ring with a piercing sound as he stares at the green-haired boy in front of him. shoto's chest heaves under his gym shirt, frost nipping up the right side of his body in a stinging embrace. his dual-colored gaze is blurry and unfocused, but it zeroes in on something.

no. it zeroes in on someone.

you.

he sees the knitting of your brows as you hang over he railings of your class' stadium section. e/c eyes lock onto his own.

even as flames begin to flicker and lap up from his right side, you don't look away. it's then that he hears his heartbeat again, the ringing in his ears replaced by his heavy breathing, locking back into the match.

the aching in his stomach from one of midoriya's earlier blows is numb as he charges forwards to meet the boy in a blow. everything goes white for him after that as a loud explosion shakes the stadium itself from the sudden temperature shift that shoto's pure power brings.

he doesn't remember much in the immediate moment of his victory, watching his opponent crumble outside of bounds and he is guided off the field for the next match.

but what stuck with him was seeing you running right past his father to get to him the second he made it through the doors of the stadium. not even sparing a glance to the number two hero standing in the flesh as your soft hands grasp onto his shoulders.

"todoroki, are you okay? that explosion was gnarly... let's get you to recovery girl." you speak, tone slightly raised to make it over the ringing in his ears from the detonation.

he doesn't answer, allowing you to lead him past his father, not even looking up at the looming figure. stepping out of his shadow and finally breathing for what feels like the first time in his fifteen years of living.

shoto doesn't know what to do just yet but he feels himself looking downwards with a much more amicable outlook on the plunge. all he needed was a gentle hand to guide him and he'd gladly go head-first if it meant that you would be waiting at the bottom.

because they call it falling in love for a reason, and shoto has never had someone he trusted to catch him.

okkotsuus 24

[explodo-smash]

Tenko and Kacchan - Shigaraki and Bakugou as two misunderstood children

Now that we’re in the vestige/memory mindscape for MHA's ending, and Izuku and Shigaraki are sharing memories, this is an analysis I wrote about the connections between Shigaraki and Bakugou, and how I believe Katsuki’s role in this finale will be as another vital mirror for Shigaraki to look at.

[Can also be found on twitter]

Shigaraki and Bakugou have both been denoted uniquely with some similar words/traits:

Overt Childishness/Childlike behavior

Short fuses/tempers

Arrogance

An abundance of power/strength - In general having gross/unappealing personalities etc.

This makes sense.

Because in the original ending where Dk/Bk come together to defeat Shigaraki (as laid out by Heroes Rising) - it’s fair to say the original plan was an story where Izuku and Katsuki alone embodied what society needed as the new foundation for change.

This obviously isn’t the case now, but theoretically it seems like the plan was to make Shigaraki too far gone. His ideals mixed with an enjoyment of destruction.

However, in an ending where he is not, and we’re not getting out of this situation without him being saved, the goals for a new foundation are the same with a different outlook - just the same players.

Shigaraki is seeking to be understood, first and foremost. And he is at the point where he genuinely believes no one can, even if they seek to - however it’s funny because equivalently he severely misunderstands Izuku and Kacchan in his pursuits to be seen.

It’s worth noting that timeline wise - immediately following Deku/Kacchan vs All Might, we transition into the formation of the League of Villains, where Shigaraki is contemplating his interest in Izuku.

He leaves to then go experiment with this interest with the mall, where Izuku disappoints but also inspires him to keep going.

Prior to this, he had left the Toga and Dabi hanging with an answer about whether or not he would accept them, and upon being told again the reason he is not being seen he is not understood, upon being told he has no ideals, his next plan of action was to get Bakugou.

To me, it means something that Shigaraki sought Bakugou out where the other characters had to come to him. Back when these chapters were released, there was a genuine belief amongst readers that Katsuki would fold and join the villains.

This assumption was being made by both Shigaraki, the reporters in the story, and the readers at large despite nothing about Katsuki indicating this but his personality - Shigaraki just happened to make the same mistake readers were making.

When Shigaraki looked at Izuku, he just saw another hero with lofty ideals who was not interested in putting that action to practice with things he did not understand.

However when Shigaraki looked at Bakugou, he saw someone he resonated with being suppressed, forced to change who he is, and unprotected by society at large. Remember, prior to the sports festival the only other thing Katsuki was known for was the sludge villain incident.

And even now, he looks to Bakugou as a mirror of himself, even when AFO was trying to suppress him, the things that started to wake Tenko up were things people said/did on behalf of Katsuki, seeing all the pro heroes work so hard to protect someone already gone.

If I were to give a tentative soft take on the early read, Shigaraki’s failure at being understood by Izuku and Katsuki despite seeking them out (and with the original ending put into context) it seems like the original idea was perhaps that sometimes death is another way of saving, and that Katsuki and Izuku were the main symbolic proof that society can be better when you understand one another.

Now that is clearly being challenged and slightly inverted.

Katsuki/Izuku are still serving the purpose of being the proof and evidence of what change and understanding can do, but now it’s just not as insular.

To me, it’s not a coincidence OFA was borne in the helm of a misunderstanding. Yoichi, the one outcast, suppressed, and unprotected, is still reached out to by Kudou - because he looks like someone who needed saving.

Furthermore, Kudou is the first person to sacrifice himself in the bid to save Shigaraki, betting everything on Izuku who he only grew to understand more after seeing his relationship to himself and Katsuki. Kudou and Shigaraki had similar ideas about him.

Katsuki is consistently the thread that leads to understanding Izuku.

And so while in a lot of ways I do think Shigaraki is going to be able to see Izuku’s childhood and empathize with his own treatment in society, I do think it’d be easy to write it off as Izuku just being a better person than he is, causing him to doubling down anyways.

However, Katsuki is evidence that your origins can be treacherous. You can be a horrible, simple, and destructive child, and still come out of it loved. Katsuki is the strongest evidence everyone has that Izuku isn’t bluffing, both Izuku's persistent and Katsuki's growth.

The biggest difference between Katsuki and Shigaraki is that Katsuki was blessed to have kept love in his life despite everything, and his ideals are predicated on this.

Tenko got to experience this only for a blip in time before being left behind and groomed. Izuku in all his craziness is presenting the opportunity for Tenko to remember it’s possible for him to have love in his life as well without taking the world down with him.

He just can’t do that without seeing the clearest example of that dedication in action with one of the first characters he'd managed to resonate with.

[bitchiswild]

Winter Ball

Kim Minjeong x F! Reader

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 3.5k

A/n: ❄️🎻🪩

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

The Winter Ball, an event steeped in opulence and prestige, stands as the pinnacle of the year's social calendar. Within its glittering halls, destinies intertwine, where chance encounters spark romances and hearts both unite and fracture. This illustrious affair owes its existence to the esteemed Kim Seok, a titan among elites, who christened the gala in honor of his beloved daughter, Kim Minjeong, affectionately known as Winter.

Beyond its facade of elegance and grandeur, the Winter Ball is a nexus of strategic alliances and lucrative sponsorships, where business dealings are as commonplace as swirling waltzes and whispered confessions. Yet, amid the clinking glasses and shimmering gowns, there exists an unwritten expectation, one fervently held by Kim Seok himself. With each meticulously planned Winter Ball, he harbors a silent hope—a hope that his daughter, Winter, might find love amidst the enchanting splendor.

Winter, however, is a vision of independence and conviction. Echoing her father's unyielding spirit, she rebuffs the allure of romantic entanglements with a steadfast declaration: "I have no need for such entrapments. Love is a fallacy." Yet, despite her protestations, Kim Seok discerns a familiar skepticism in her words, a reflection of his own past reservations before fate introduced him to the love of his life—Winter's mother.

In the depths of his heart, Kim Seok yearns for Winter to experience the transformative power of love, much as he did. With an ardent wish that transcends the gilded confines of the Winter Ball, he quietly prays for the serendipitous arrival of the one who will awaken his daughter's belief in love, just as it was once awakened within him.

As the anticipation mounts and the chandeliers cast their ethereal glow upon the revelers, Kim Seok watches over the festivities, his paternal gaze holding a silent plea to the stars: that Winter, his cherished daughter, may find within this glittering celebration the key to unlock the guarded chambers of her heart.

~~~

Winters POV

I let out a resigned sigh, my eyes scanning the elegantly adorned room filled with twirling couples lost in their own romantic reverie. Amidst the enchanting melodies and graceful waltzes, I stood on the periphery, a silent observer of a spectacle that failed to captivate my convictions. Love, in my view, was a frivolous pursuit—an enigmatic dance of emotions I had no desire to partake in. Love at first sight? Ridiculous.

"Minjeong!" Jimin's voice interrupted my musings, drawing my attention to my ever-optimistic best friend. She flashed a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with a certainty that often accompanied her unwavering faith in matters of the heart.

"You're always so dismissive about love, but mark my words, one day you'll see. It'll all make sense," she remarked, her tone laced with a playful certainty that mirrored her perpetual optimism.

I couldn't help but scoff. "You say that as if it's some inevitable epiphany waiting to happen."

Jimin chuckled, her laughter carrying a hint of affectionate exasperation. "Trust me, Minjeong. Once you experience it, your perspective will shift entirely. Love won't seem like a waste of time anymore."

Her words lingered in the air as she sauntered away, disappearing into the crowd with her partner, leaving me to ponder her unwavering belief in the inexplicable magic of love.

Despite my protestations, I couldn't shake off the echo of her words. Was there a kernel of truth in her confident assertions? Could love truly transform one's outlook, turning what I deemed as frivolous into something profound and meaningful?

As the music swelled and the enchantment of the Winter Ball continued to weave its spell around the room, I found myself caught in a fleeting moment of contemplation. Perhaps, just perhaps, amidst the sea of skeptics, cynics, and believers alike, there existed a truth waiting to reveal itself—a truth about love that I had yet to uncover.

As I made my way towards the refreshments, a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught my attention. A figure, graceful and poised, mirrored my steps toward the drink table. Her presence, almost magnetic, tugged at my senses, and for a fleeting moment, the room seemed to shrink, centering around this enigmatic stranger.

"Sorry, am I in your way?" Her gentle voice broke the spell, drawing me from my reverie. I shook my head, startled by the sudden rush of emotions that stirred within me. "N-No, you're not. It's okay," I managed to stutter out, my heart thundering in my chest.

She giggled, her laughter a melody that resonated through the air, and in that moment, it felt like I was enveloped in pure bliss. Was this the inexplicable sensation Jimin spoke of—the rush of emotions, the rapid heartbeat, all in the presence of a stranger? Could this be the much-dismissed notion of love at first sight?

Summoning an ounce of courage I hadn't known I possessed, I extended my hand towards her. "My name's Minjeong. What's yours?" The words stumbled out, coated in a mix of nerves and excitement.

The girl turned toward me, her eyes sparkling with an unspoken allure. "Y/n," she replied, taking my hand in hers. "Nice to meet you, Minjeong. But I've got to get going; my friends are waiting for me. I'll see you on the dance floor?" Her words lingered in the air, a question tinged with a hint of anticipation.

I could only nod dumbly, lost momentarily in the radiance of her smile. As she giggled and gracefully departed, I felt a rush of relief flood through me. It was as if the weight of the moment lifted as she left my vicinity. Gathering my composure, I hurriedly made my way through the crowd, seeking out Jimin amidst the throng of revelers.

"Jimin!" I called out, scanning the crowd for my ever-supportive best friend. Spotting her animatedly conversing with a group nearby, I navigated through the sea of dancers and socialites, eager to share the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.

"Minjeong, there you are!" Jimin's eyes lit up as she noticed me approaching, her expression expectant. "Did you find yourself a drink?"

I chuckled, trying to compose myself after the unexpected encounter. "Yeah, but more importantly, Jimin, I just had the most...unexpected moment."

Jimin arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? Do tell!"

I recounted the brief yet intense interaction with Y/n, the rush of emotions, and the lingering sensation of having stumbled upon something inexplicably enchanting.

Jimin's grin widened with each word, a silent acknowledgment dancing in her eyes. "Minjeong, could it be? Love at first sight?"

I hesitated, grappling with the idea I'd dismissed moments before. "I don't know, Jimin. It sounds so cliché, doesn't it? But there was something about her... It was different."

Jimin's laughter bubbled forth. "Welcome to the club, Minjeong! Looks like someone's heart might be softening after all."

I rolled my eyes playfully but couldn't deny the fluttering feeling in my chest, a strange mix of nervousness and excitement at the thought of seeing Y/n again.

"Will you go dance with her?" Jimin nudged, her gaze filled with encouragement.

"I-I think so," I stammered, surprised by my own resolve. "I hope I see her there."

With Jimin's teasing encouragement and the memory of Y/n's smile lingering in my mind, I found myself swaying to the music, unable to shake off the lingering anticipation of a potential reunion.

As the night progressed and the melodies intertwined with laughter and whispers, I couldn't help but steal glances around the room, hoping for another glimpse of Y/n amidst the swirling crowd.

Time had passed, and there was no sight of Y/n. Faint disappointment settled in as I made my way back to the bar, hoping to find solace in another drink. Yet, to my surprise, there she was, standing next to a guy who seemed to be making her visibly uncomfortable.

My steps faltered as I approached the bar, the familiar sight of Y/n amidst an uncomfortable interaction stopping me in my tracks. A knot formed in my stomach, an instinctive urge to intervene surging within me.

Y/n stood there, her expression strained, a polite yet uneasy smile plastered on her face. Beside her loomed a guy, his demeanor exuding an unsettling sense of entitlement. His persistent attempts at conversation were met with Y/n's subtle but visible discomfort.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" I questioned, my voice poised but carrying an underlying concern.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, a hint of relief flickering across her face. "Minjeong! I'm so glad you're here," she responded, her voice tinged with gratitude.

I turned my attention to the guy beside her, offering a friendly yet assertive smile. "Hi there! I'm Minjeong. Sorry to interrupt, but Y/n and I have some catching up to do, right?"

The guy glanced between us, seemingly taken aback but sensing the shift in the atmosphere, he excused himself with a half-hearted smile and sauntered away.

Y/n exhaled a breath she seemed to have been holding, offering me a grateful smile. "Thank you, Minjeong. That was...unexpected."

I shrugged, trying to downplay the gravity of the situation. "No problem. Looked like you needed a rescue."

As the tension dissipated, Y/n's gaze met mine, a silent understanding passing between us. The brief yet charged moment solidified something unspoken, a connection forming in the wake of an unexpected rescue.

"Hey, let's grab that drink together," I suggested, hoping to offer some reprieve from the uncomfortable encounter.

Y/n's smile widened, a genuine spark returning to her eyes. "I'd like that."

As we moved towards the bar, the weight of the encounter fading into the background, a newfound sense of camaraderie and intrigue filled the space between us.

The ambient glow of the Winter Ball seemed to dim in the wake of the burgeoning connection between Y/n and me. We settled at a quieter corner of the bustling venue, cocooned in our own world, amid the gentle hum of conversations and the occasional tinkling of glasses.

"So, Minjeong," Y/n began, her voice a melodic invitation to unravel the layers of our mutual acquaintance. "What brings you to the Winter Ball?"

I shared anecdotes about attending with Karina, my father's insistence on finding love for me at these events, and my own skepticism about the enchantment of love.

"And what about you, Y/n?" I inquired, eager to reciprocate the sharing. "How did you end up here?"

She laughed softly, the sound like a symphony in the midst of the ball's elegance. "Honestly, I was dragged here by a friend. Not much of a fan of these extravagant affairs myself."

As we conversed, the conversation flowed effortlessly, each exchange peeling away the layers of initial awkwardness. We discovered shared interests, from music preferences to our views on the complexities of life. There was a comfortable rhythm to our interaction, a natural chemistry that seemed to bridge any gap between us.

Time ceased to exist as we exchanged stories, laughter, and thoughts. The once-imposing Winter Ball now felt like an intimate setting, our dialogue weaving an invisible thread between us, binding our newfound connection.

The night wore on, the music shifting from lively tunes to mellower melodies, yet our conversation continued, unhurried and unreserved. Amidst the glamour and opulence of the ball, a genuine connection had blossomed—a serendipitous encounter that defied the confines of the grand event.

As the evening drew to a close and the final strains of music echoed through the hall, I realized that amidst the sea of faces and fleeting encounters, I had found an unexpected and cherished connection in Y/n.

Our exchange continued, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and aspirations. As the night unfolded its secrets, we found ourselves drawn to the idea that chance encounters often held the most unforeseen treasures.

Eventually, the allure of the wintry night beckoned, and Y/n suggested we step outside to catch a breath of fresh air. The grand doors opened, leading us to the quiet serenity of the winter landscape outside.

A hushed blanket of snow had begun to descend, painting the night in a soft, ethereal glow. The air was crisp, and the gentle flakes danced around us, adding a touch of enchantment to the already magical evening.

Y/n and I stood side by side, gazing at the mesmerizing sight before us. The snowflakes twirled in the air, creating a tranquil scene that felt straight out of a storybook.

"It's beautiful," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

Y/n nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the soft glimmer of the falling snow. "It really is. There's something so serene about snowfall, isn't there?"

We stood there, amidst the quiet elegance of the wintry night, sharing a moment that transcended the grandeur of the Winter Ball. The snowflakes continued their graceful descent, enveloping us in a cocoon of tranquility and wonder.

In that peaceful solitude, our conversation took on a more introspective tone. We spoke of dreams, aspirations, and the inexplicable beauty found in the simplest of moments—a shared understanding that seemed to deepen the connection between us.

As the snow continued to cascade from the heavens, we exchanged quiet smiles, a silent acknowledgment of the rare beauty of this shared moment. For in the delicate dance of snowflakes and the whispers of our conversation, something special had bloomed between us.

As the delicate snowflakes continued their graceful descent, an unspoken warmth enveloped us in a cocoon of shared moments and unspoken sentiments. I turned to Y/n, a genuine sincerity coloring my words.

"I really enjoy your company, Y/n," I expressed, my voice carrying the weight of truth and vulnerability.

Her eyes sparkled with a reflective radiance, mirroring the sentiment. "I enjoy your company too, Minjeong," she replied, her smile a testament to the comfort found in our connection.

We stood there, side by side, witnessing the tranquil spectacle of the first snowfall. The silence between us was filled with unspoken words, an uncharted territory of emotions and possibilities.

"You know what they say about the first snow," I remarked, breaking the tranquil silence between us.

Y/n turned to me, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "No, what is it?" she asked, her voice soft and attentive.

"It's where you make a wish, and they say it might just come true," I explained, a tinge of wistfulness in my tone.

"Make a wish, Minjeong," she encouraged gently, her eyes filled with a gentle encouragement that urged me to embrace the moment.

I let out a sigh, the weight of my wish settling in my chest. "I wish to take you out on a date," I confessed, the words slipping out, carrying the earnestness of my feelings.

In the tranquil serenity of the wintry night, with snowflakes twirling around us like silent witnesses, I dared to voice a longing that had quietly blossomed within me.

Y/n's gaze held mine, her eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. Her soft smile echoed the silent understanding that had grown between us, a shared connection woven in the magical embrace of the first snow.

As the snowfall continued its gentle descent, a subtle chill began to permeate the air. I noticed Y/n subtly shivering, the cold seeping through the elegant attire she wore for the ball.

"You're getting cold, aren't you?" I asked, concern lacing my words as I observed her discomfort.

Y/n nodded, a faint blush gracing her cheeks. "A little, yes."

Without hesitation, I slipped off my own warm sweater, a comforting shield against the wintry chill, and offered it to her. "Here, take this. It's warmer," I insisted, my voice carrying both concern and a hint of bashfulness.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise at the gesture, her gaze meeting mine in a mix of gratitude and astonishment. "Minjeong, I couldn't—"

"Please," I urged gently, my smile attempting to ease any reservations she might have. "I want you to be warm."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Y/n accepted the sweater, wrapping it around herself with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Minjeong. You're too kind."

The exchange brought an unexpected warmth to the wintry night—not just from the shared gesture but from the growing connection and the unspoken promise that hung between us.

With Y/n now shielded from the biting cold, our shared moment continued, the snowflakes descending around us in a silent ballet. The act of offering my sweater felt like a bridge between us, forging an unspoken closeness that transcended the physical warmth it provided.

As we stood there, enveloped in the beauty of the snowfall and the quiet understanding that bound us, the promise of a forthcoming date lingered in the air, an anticipation that added an extra layer of magic to the Winter Ball's enchanting allure.

The clock struck midnight, signaling the end of the enchanting evening. Reluctantly, I walked Y/n to her car, the weight of impending separation casting a shadow over our otherwise uplifting interaction.

"Here's my number. Text me about the date plan; I'm looking forward to it," Y/n said, her smile radiant with anticipation, as she handed me a slip of paper bearing her contact information.

My bashfulness emerged, rendering me momentarily speechless. "I'm excited too. I'll be sure to text you. Just get home safe, alright?" I replied softly, hoping to mask the fluttering nerves within me.

Y/n's smile widened, and in that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Her gentle kiss on my cheek felt like a jolt of electricity, sending my heart into a frenzy. For an instant, I felt as though I might lose my footing, caught in the unexpected rush of emotions.

"Good night, Minjeong," she whispered, her words carrying a softness that reverberated through me.

I stood there, watching her car depart, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. Placing a hand over my heart, I attempted to steady the rapid beating within my chest, the lingering sensation of her kiss lingering like an echo.

Before I could collect my thoughts, Karina came bounding towards me, brimming with excitement. "Oh my gosh, I saw everything! Minjeong is head over heels, everyone!" she exclaimed with uncontainable enthusiasm.

I stood there, Karina's excited proclamation ringing in my ears, a mix of bewilderment and anticipation coursing through me. Her words echoed a truth I had vehemently denied for so long—love had never held a place in my beliefs.

But as I stood there, my hand unconsciously lingering on the spot where Y/n's kiss had landed, a revelation dawned upon me. I had once deemed love a frivolous notion, dismissing it as a mere illusion. Yet, in this whirlwind encounter, I found myself yearning for something I never thought I'd desire.

The Winter Ball had unveiled a world of possibilities I had stubbornly ignored, and in the lingering warmth of Y/n's presence, my heart had stirred with unfamiliar emotions. What had begun as skepticism had morphed into an eager anticipation for what lay ahead—a date that held the promise of something genuine and heartfelt.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I found myself eagerly awaiting the prospect of love—a concept I once rejected but now, with each flutter of my heart, embraced with open arms.

Years cascaded by in a beautiful tapestry woven with shared moments, laughter, and a love that surpassed every doubt. Y/n and I stood side by side, a testament to the transformative power of love, as we returned to the Winter Ball each year.

My father's beaming smile was a reflection of his joy as he witnessed the love that had bloomed between Y/n and me. The Winter Ball, once a place of skepticism and uncertainty for me, now held a cherished significance—a testament to our enduring bond and the promise of a love that had weathered the test of time.

With each passing holiday season, Y/n and I found ourselves wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence. The Winter Ball had become more than just an extravagant event; it was a celebration of our love story—a reminder of the serendipity that had brought us together and the countless memories we continued to create.

The twinkling lights, the elegant dances, and the festive atmosphere held a deeper meaning now—a symbol of our shared journey, a testament to the enduring love that had blossomed amidst the enchantment of that first Winter Ball.

As we danced under the glittering lights, surrounded by the echoes of laughter and the whispers of timeless promises, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the unexpected turns that had led me to find the love of my life.

Every holiday season was now a cherished opportunity—a chance to revel in the love that had transformed my beliefs, turning skepticism into an unwavering certainty that love, indeed, was the most powerful magic of all.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

[aventurineswife]

Stages of Shadows: Contestant No.2

Name:

Sunday

Height without shoes:

5'7" (170 cm)

Occupation:

Leader of the Oak Family, Charmony Festival Organizer, Representative of The Family of Penacony.

Background:

Sunday is the respected leader of the Oak Family, a title that carries great influence and responsibility. As the organizer of the Charmony Festival and representative of The Family of Penacony, he has earned a reputation for being just, rational, and dignified. Many look to him for guidance, captivated by his calm wisdom and composed demeanor. Despite his outward poise, Sunday harbors a deep-seated disillusionment with the world’s cruelty, shaped by a tragic past that separated him from his beloved family, particularly his younger sister, Robin, whom he believed lost. This loss fueled his desire to shield people from life’s pain, inspiring his dream of Sweetdream Paradise—a place where people can live free from suffering, though forever removed from reality. With an unwavering belief in this vision, he now views it as the solution to humanity’s struggles, one that prioritizes comfort over growth.

His entry into the Stages of Shadows—a deadly performance competition where failing a duet results in execution—places him in direct opposition to his ideals. This brutal contest forces Sunday into a reality far removed from his dreams of peace, putting him face-to-face with rivals who embody the harshness he despises. To his shock, he also finds his sister, Robin, among the contestants. This reunion, though bittersweet, becomes a turning point in Sunday’s journey, awakening long-dormant emotions he’d tried to bury in his pursuit of an idealized world.

Personality:

Sunday is dignified, calm, and emanates a quiet intensity that draws people to him. He has a benevolent yet detached air, often viewed as rational and morally steadfast. His heart holds genuine compassion, but his twisted outlook on happiness leaves him willing to sacrifice reality for the sake of peace. Sunday’s calm demeanor masks an undercurrent of melancholy and protectiveness, shaped by his pessimistic view of human nature. He believes that people instinctively seek to escape from suffering, and he does not shame them for it. However, his tendency to retreat into his ideals sometimes blinds him to the real-world consequences of his actions, making him prone to overestimating his perspective and underestimating the resilience of those around him.

Strengths:

Leadership: Sunday is naturally composed under pressure and can command respect effortlessly, a key trait for rallying those around him.

Resilience of Belief: His firm conviction in protecting people from pain gives him an almost unbreakable mental fortitude, allowing him to keep his composure.

Emotional Reserve: His ability to mask emotions and stay focused on his purpose makes him difficult to read, a useful advantage in a high-stakes environment.

Weaknesses:

Overattachment to Ideals: Sunday’s unwavering belief in a peaceful escape can make him inflexible and blind to alternatives, a limitation in a cutthroat contest where adaptability is vital.

Isolation: His distance from reality and tendency to keep others at arm’s length make him reluctant to truly trust, which can hinder his ability to form alliances.

Emotional Blindspot for Loved Ones: Though he normally keeps people at a distance, his love for his sister Robin and complex feelings about [Name] make him vulnerable in ways he struggles to control.

The Revelation of His Sister, Robin:

Sunday’s world shifts dramatically upon discovering his sister, Robin, is also trapped in the Stages of Shadows. For years, he believed his family lost, and in that void, he crafted his dream of a peaceful world. But seeing her again stirs emotions he’d locked away, reigniting his drive to protect those he loves. Robin’s presence becomes both a source of strength and an unsettling distraction, forcing Sunday to confront a deeper truth: his dream of escaping pain is as much a desire to protect her as it is a philosophical belief.In reuniting with his sister, Sunday gains a new resolve, but the stakes of the Stages of Shadows challenge him in unexpected ways. The possibility of her being used against him becomes a shadow hanging over every performance, forcing him to reconcile his ideals with the brutal reality of survival. He finds himself torn between his belief in peaceful escape and the need to fight for their freedom. His carefully constructed world is now at odds with a fierce, personal need to save his sister, revealing that his philosophy might not withstand the ultimate test—when the lives of those he cherishes are on the line.

Motivation:

Sunday is driven by a complex desire to create a world without pain, a vision rooted in both compassion and a deep-seated pessimism about human nature. He believes that most people, when faced with suffering, would choose escape over struggle—a belief that has led him to see Sweetdream Paradise as humanity’s best hope. For him, protecting people from pain, even at the cost of reality, is an act of mercy, and he feels it is his duty to uphold this vision, regardless of the sacrifices involved.

However, the discovery of his sister Robin within the Stages of Shadows introduces a new layer to his motivation. Her presence stirs a fierce protective instinct within him, challenging his notion that peace through detachment is the answer. Torn between his philosophy and his love for his sister, Sunday is now forced to confront the limits of his ideals. The competition becomes a test of his beliefs, pushing him to navigate between his desire to shelter humanity from pain and the painful reality that, to protect his sister and himself, he may need to embrace the very struggle he has always sought to escape.

[Navigation]

[fruitsoxs]

New Year's Kiss

pairing(s); Gale x (GN)reader summary; You somehow end up kissing your rival at midnight OR you seriously misinterpret the vibes Gale is giving off (modern au) warning(s); reader is a dumbass, they are so bad at understanding social ques, Gale can't flirt, this is mostly fluff wordcount; 1.8k notes; this was beta read by both @linklebard and my partner! i couldn't have done it with out them <;33

You never really liked parties. They were often too loud and too crowded. You hate being forced to socialize with other people. You’re definitely an introvert, and when given the choice would rather stay at home. You especially hate work parties though. Not only do you have to talk to people, but these people are your peers. Your educated, rude peers that have an “I’m better than you” outlook on life. The hardest part about work parties? You can’t escape them. Unless you are on your deathbed, you HAVE to attend. It’s an anxiety fueled nightmare

That is exactly how you ended up at your university’s New Year’s party. 

You grip the champagne glass with so much vigor that it may just explode in your hands. People around you are talking, creating a sea of noise which threatens to drown you. Face a little pale, you slowly raise the drink up to your lips and sip. The liquid does little to help you unwind, but it serves as your life vest on this treacherous adventure. Without it in your hands you’d just be standing there awkwardly amongst your peers. 

The party is being held in the Performing Arts center, in a large room adorned with gold  decorations and giant pillars. In the center there is a live band playing. A jazz band whose music should be relaxing, but in this environment it only adds to the stress. Many people are dressed in their finest clothing, showing off their expensive brands. You opted for something a little more simple, but elegant nonetheless. You’ve done your best to look presentable, but you can’t deny the fact you struggled to force yourself off your computer for this event. Despite it being winter break, you’re working relentlessly to put together a research paper that will HAVE to pull in grants.

You’d much rather be putting all of your energy into that than standing here awkwardly at the party. You need to work hard in order to draw in the attention of benefactors, especially with that certain someone who always seems to be fighting with you for the same grants. It wouldn't be such an issue if the man didn’t beat you almost every time. It was only recently that you lost against him after presenting what you thought was your best work. It didn’t even seem to be a fight in the end, his project was chosen without a second thought. You worked your ass off day and night to perfect every inch of that proposal, and in the end you were left with nothing. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” A voice rings out beside you, pulling you from your solitude. When you look over you are met with the big brown eyes of the coworker you were just thinking about. Gale Dekarios, the most annoyingly smart person you know. The one who you are constantly butting heads with, and the person you can safely say you hate the most. The worst part about him? He always seems to be correct in a way you can’t refute. He’s wickedly smart, with looks that match. You don’t think there’s a single soul who would describe him as anything but handsome.  It’s utterly unfair. Despite your harsh feelings for the man, he always seems to worm his way into your thoughts

“I think you may have misread the email then, Professor Dekarios. The word required was used more than a couple of times.” You answer, crossing your free arm over the one holding your drink. You would know, you were the one in charge of sending out that email. He lets out a soft chuckle and nods. “I happen to thoroughly read every email I get, especially the ones I get from you. I just figured you’d skip out on the festivities seeing as the word “required” doesn’t always guarantee your attendance, Professor.” He points out, taking a sip of his own drink.  

While he’s not wrong, you don’t appreciate the way he says it. Everything sounds so sassy coming from his mouth. It feels like a slight on your attendance to these ordeals, or like he’s comparing himself to you. There’s no doubt in your mind that he shows up to every single one of these events. They seem like something he would enjoy. You, on the other hand, do like to skip out on parties, even when they are technically required to go to. The reason behind you playing hooky though, is the man in front of you. He’s always somehow one upping you, making it so you have to work extra hard to earn any amount of attention. And while you could earn that attention by attending these parties, and schmoozing up to the department leaders, you’d much rather gain attention by doing good work. Besides, you’ve never been all that great at networking. 

“I do value my job, you know.” you snap, clearly angered by what he said. It is all his fault after all. If he wasn’t so goddamn competent at his job, you might be able to relax every once in a while. 

He doesn’t seem phased by your anger, simply nods along. “Ah yes, and how lucky are we to have you here. One of the finest Historians I know.” 

‘But never the best’ You think bitterly, sipping your champagne again. You find yourself thinking back to those late nights, scrolling through Rate My Professor to compare your scores. Despite your best effort, he always seems to have the most positive reviews. The students love him, the faculty love him. It seems he will always be better than you, no matter what he is doing.

You intend to end the conversation there, but it seems Gale has other plans. Always the sociable one, he opens his mouth again. “It does seem like you’ve been much more engrossed in your work lately. Planning anything big?” he asks, genuinely curious about your work. However, you have never been good at social cues. Thinking he’s making fun of you, you narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Professor” you snap.

He always seems to be trying to gawk at your work. For what? You aren’t sure. Every chance he gets he’s asking what your most recent project is. Sometimes he even asks to view your lesson plans for classes, which always pisses you off. What right does he have inserting himself into your work? Not only that, but what intentions does he have? There’s no way he’s trying to help you, right?

He holds his hands up in feign surrender. “Alright, No need to get snappy. I'm just curious. Who would I be if I was not interested in my colleague’s work?” he asks, offering you a smile. 

You really have no idea what to make of this guy. You’ve always hated conversing with him, because it genuinely feels like he has some secret motive behind his kind words and smiles. He has to be making fun of you for something. There is no other explanation. At least not in your mind. Still, maybe you are being too harsh. You let your glare fall, and give him a small nod. You shift your eye over to the clock. Only five minutes to midnight, which means it’s almost time for you to go home. 

Your eyes go back to Gale, who is still by your side sipping his drink happily. Why is he still next to you? Doesn’t he have some other poor soul to chat to? You open your mouth to voice this, but he cuts you off by clearing his throat. 

“The music is rather lovely today, is it not?” he asks you, avoiding eye contact as if he’s nervous. 

What? Why is he talking to you about the music? You seriously don’t understand this man’s intentions with you at all. Is he trying to get you to lower your guard so he can learn all your secrets? No…he’s much too smart to need to do that. He goes above and beyond, relying purely on his brain alone. He would never commit messy tricks to get what he wants. You arch an eyebrow at him, and look over at the band. They’re playing a pleasant tune.

“I guess.” you mumble.

“And the decorations are nice!”

“It’s a little cheesy.” 

“Perhaps, but cheesy isn’t always bad.” 

You take another sip of your drink, realizing it’s growing quite empty. Well, It’s only three minutes until midnight, You can survive with what you have.  You start to get comfortable with the silence, before Gale starts to speak again. “You know we are probably the smartest people in our department. How would you-” You cut him off this time, utterly confused as to why he’s STILL talking to you. “Don’t you have someone else you’d like to talk to?” you ask with complete sincerity. He seems a little taken aback by your question, his smile disappearing for a small second. Within a few moments it’s back on his face though. “No. I actually quite enjoy talking to you.”

Two minutes until midnight.

You’re stunned. What does he mean? You feel your cheeks heat up despite yourself. You clutch onto your drink a little more intensely. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I enjoy talking to you. You are great company and I-” he cuts himself off.

One minute.

“You?”

He clears his throat, his face turning a bit pink. He then turns to you, taking a deep breath. You expect him to say something, but this time he’s quiet. He just waits for a moment. Once the clock strikes midnight, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in closer to him. He does it slowly, giving you time to move away if you want. You find yourself wanting whatever he is doing though, a flame lighting up inside you. Carefully his lips meet yours, and the room disappears.

The kiss only lasts for a moment, but you can feel the fireworks light up inside you.

“I quite like you.” he admits after pulling away, his face inches from yours. Unsure how to respond, you reach up and kiss him again. This time the kiss lasts a few seconds longer. His lips are warm, a little dry, but so pleasant against yours. When you pull away, he’s smiling again. “I’ll take it, you feel the same?” he asks.

You nod shyly. 

“Good. Now, might I propose something that I meant to ask earlier? Would you be willing to do a joint proposal with me?”

How could you possibly say anything but yes?

[disneytva]

Meredith Roberts Reflects On What To Expect From Disney Television Animation After 40th Years And 100 Shows.

Kicking off a panel called “40 Years of Disney Television Animation: Past, Present and Future” at Annecy Festival, Disney Television Animation’s Executive Vice President and CEO, Meredith Roberts, made several big announcements on the panel she mentioned what to expect from the studio on the future.

The landscape of TV is changing, whether it's live-action or animated, but Meredith Roberts gave a positive outlook on what fans can expect from Disney Television Animation’s future.

"The division is boldly entering new territory, with projects in development in genres that Disney Television Animation has yet to explore"

"The rise of streaming has shifted the focus of our projects to content focused less on kids and more on co-viewing between kids and parents" aka Young Adult animation

She also hinted that future strategies will try to meet kids where they’re consuming content, which includes gaming and web-based content.

"Things have certainly come a long way since Adventures of the Gummi Bears, but with new content from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Prep & Landing, Phineas and Ferb, and The Proud Family: Louder and Prouder, it’s an exciting time to be a Disney Television Animation fan."

[imagrindylow]

You're Cute When You Scream

Percy Weasley / f!Reader 4.6k Words Content Warnings: 18+ Explicit content; halloween scariness, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, cmnf Summary: You take Percy on a spooky surprise date, for which he thanks you very kindly. A/N: 🎃👻🦇 Happy Halloween 🎃👻🦇 ~~~~~

You kept the nature of your date with Percy that evening a surprise, knowing that if you were to give him the details beforehand, he would have had all sorts of amplifying questions which would have resulted in him trying to back his way out of it. He would have had excuses on reserve – a stack of paperwork that ought not wait through the weekend to be delved into, or meeting talking points that could use another once over before Monday. And you'd have let him off the hook, too, giving in to those pretty ocean blue eyes of his far more often than you probably should. 

You knew he didn’t like surprises, either. They were rarely ever good things, or at least, he had been conditioned to believe as much throughout his childhood. Growing up, Fred and George often charged into his room with various ‘surprises’ for him. After the second time they’d gifted him a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans – each pre-licked and put back into the box with all of the good flavors removed – he stopped getting his hopes up when offered surprises. You were hell bent on changing his outlook on them, though, and you were making good progress, too. He had, after all, agreed to go along with your mysterious plan, whatever it was, and he apparated to your home Saturday evening as you’d asked him to. 

Percy knocked and stood on the stairs outside of your flat waiting for you to come to the door, fidgeting with the sleeves of his cable knit jumper. It was well loved and comfy, thick and warm, practical for the mid fall weather. But (one of) the problems with surprise dates was that he couldn’t be certain that he was dressed appropriately for the occasion. This was inherently stressful to him. Percy would forget this worry the moment you answered the door, however, the enthusiastic way you pulled him into an embrace at your every meeting reinforced the idea that the fact he’d agreed to come was more important to you than what he was wearing.

“Don’t you look festive,” Percy said with a little grin as he pulled back from the hug, loosening his hold on you just enough to get a good look at what you had on, his hands holding your forearms and giving them an affectionate squeeze.

You were in a black cardigan with small jack-o'-lanterns knit into the pattern on both pockets. He thought it was cute, if not a bit hokey. It looked like something his mother would have made. Was it? The woman was always knitting.

“That’s what I was going for,” you said with a huff of amusement, eyeing him up as well. 

“Oh?” He quirked his brow, his lips pulling into a crooked little smile. You’d been going for festive. That was a clue. The two of you were doing something for Halloween. He should have known, honestly, he knew you loved the holiday. There were pumpkins on the stairs leading to your door and an autumn wreath gently rustled as you shut the door behind him as he stepped through the threshold. “Will you tell me where you’re taking me?”

“You’ll see~” you said, eyes sweeping over his face with a mischievous and knowing grin. He could try to flirt information out of you all he liked, but he’d only find out when you got there.

The two of you didn’t make it much further into your home than the front hall before you took both of Percy’s hands and gave them that tight squeeze you always gave him when you were preparing to apparate. 

“I’m ready if you are,” you said.

“Ready. Don’t go splinching us now,” he cautioned. You could have repeated the line along with him. You had heard it as many times as you had apparated him. 

“Have I ever?” 

“No you haven’t, but you know I have to say it.” 

You hummed, acknowledging his need to wish for your safe travels, and kept a tight hold of his hands. You closed your eyes and focused, envisioning in your mind a secluded dirt road that led to a farm that your parents had taken you to every year as a young girl, for an annual Halloween festival of sorts. The memory of the place was nostalgic, yet so very clear in your mind, even though you hadn’t attended the festival in many years now. 

The two of you vanished with a crack and reappeared on that dirt road, an intentionally lengthy walk from the farm, a route that your parents had shown you long ago, to ensure you'd all be able to safely apparete without being noticed by any muggles. Percy didn't know this, however, and once you both steadied yourselves on the dirt and gravel, he was visibly confused. 

“I still don’t know what you’re up to,” Percy said, taking in his surroundings. The road was carved through heavy woods, and he could see farm buildings in the distance. Pumpkin picking, perhaps? It was his best guess, based on what he could make from where you’d taken him.

“Come on,” you said, keeping hold of one of his hands as you began to lead him towards the farm.

The road you walked was quiet, the only sounds around you being the gentle wind through the red-orange leaves on the trees on either side of the road, and the crunch of loose stone under your feet as you made your way. 

As you two got closer, however, you could hear lively voices, laughter, and occasional high pitched shrieks. At that, Percy gave you a sidelong glance, before shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, letting out a little huff of amusement.

He was confident to make a guess at your destination, at this point. “It’s a festival. It’s a Halloween festival, isn't it? Haunted mazes, costumed actors, store bought decorations, right?” Your wide grin and bright eyes were the only confirmation he needed. “Silly girl, you are.”

Something about him calling you a silly girl made you shiver. You were positive that it was his tone and not the autumn temperature. 

“It will be fun!” you insisted. “I haven’t been in ages, and I loved going when I was little. I wanted to share it with you.”

Percy could appreciate that you wanted to share something from your childhood with him, and he could tell right away that this was important to you. Knowing as much made his chest warm, despite the cool breeze. You had a way of pulling his heartstrings like that. He typically found the concept of these muggle-esque celebrations a bit contrived, but he supposed he could see the allure, even if he had to squint.

“You’re right. It will be fun,” he agreed, giving your hand a squeeze. 

Rounding a bend in the road, the two of you made your way through the entry gates and to a small booth where, well prepared with muggle money, you paid for your admissions to the farm's attractions. 

“You thought this through, I’m impressed,” Percy quipped, taking in the various decorations surveying the grounds around them. 

“Of course I did. You’ve so little faith in me, I’m wounded,” you teased right back.

The farm was sprawling and crowded, mostly with families with small children in tow, which made Percy feel out of place even though the two of you were not the only childless young adults among the masses. Percy was overwhelmed with the sheer size of the place, signage on wooden posts pointing in every direction towards different activities – a haunted hayride, a haunted corn maze, a haunted trail. He was detecting a theme here, but that wasn’t even the half of it. There were food stands, games, and other activities, most of which consisted of farm equipment being temporarily repurposed for children's entertainment. Little-ones were climbing stacks of hay bales, and playing on large overturned tractor tires. The buildings full of animals were yet another draw for the crowds, and everything from the fence posts to the buildings themselves seemed to be buried in a layer of string lights and various orange, black and purple Halloween decorations. 

Despite both you and Percy  being in your mid twenties, your childlike sense of wonder for the goofiest of things never ceased to put a smile on his face, and it was ever present as you pulled him first towards the hayride. He was glad for your general zest for life – he’d have been cemented in place with trepidation without you to help navigate him through the busy festival.

“Let’s start here,” you said, and kept hold of his hand as the two of you got into the queue, waiting for the wagon to finish its previous run.

Percy had never been on a hayride before – let alone a haunted one – and he hadn’t known what to expect despite the name being so very clear. The two of you climbed up and sat on bales of hay, in the bed of a large wooden wagon being towed behind a farm tractor, shoulder to shoulder with others – families, couples. The ride pulled you away from the farm and into nearby woods, the dense tree cover making the already setting sun seem even more dim, and providing a more fitting backdrop for the ‘haunted’ attraction.

He had such a hard time biting his tongue as the tractor drove past the first set of decorations along the trail through the woods, and he only did so for the sake of the families with children seated in the vicinity. 

A toy tractor with a plastic skeleton affixed to it? Really? 

He huffed out a laugh and gave you a sidelong glance and a subtle shake of his head. You knew it was silly, but it made you smile, and despite his sardonic reactions to the various props, you knew he wasn’t hating this. It showed in the way he held your hand tight and in the fond look on his face as he watched you enjoy yourself.

The ride was bumpy and went on for another fifteen minutes, past wooden cutouts of witches and ghosts, more plastic skeletons, and even inflatable cauldrons and black cats. Target audience be damned, there was a grin plastered on your face when you and Percy hopped down from the wagon when it came to a halt at the edge of the farm to drop you all off and pick up a new load of passengers. 

You waited with baited breath for the commentary Percy had been holding back throughout the ride. You’d been dating him long enough to just know it was coming, the words were practically overflowing from him as he leaned in close to speak to you as you steered him towards the festival's food offerings.

“Where do muggles get their concept of what ghosts look like?” he remarked. “You know what ghosts look like, and that was just offensive.”  

“I’m guessing the organizers just didn’t want to frighten the children.” 

“Were you frightened as a child when you first met Sir Nicholas? Or the Bloody Baron?” Percy asked, as though the question would drive home an irrefutable point. 

“Very much so, actually,” you said with a huff of amusement, recalling yourself as a girl of just eleven, seeing the ghostly entrails of Sir Nicholas’ neck on display as he greeted you and the other new first years over dinner on your very first day as a Hogwarts student. You’d lost your appetite.

Percy hmphed.

“When you grow up with those wooden ghost standees, the real thing is actually quite jarring,” you said, smirking at his little pout. He hated being proved wrong, but you’d take every opportunity to do as much when his stony face went all soft and thoughtful when you did.

“Come on, I need a snack,” you told him, walking together through the crowds until you found yourselves on the other end of the farm where various food and drink stalls were set up all in a row.

Settled at a picnic table, each of you with a styrofoam cup full of hot chocolate and a toffee apple, you chatted idly while people watching, noting how now that the sun had fully set and darkness settled over the farm, there were far fewer young children about the place. Older kids, teenagers, and young adults like yourselves had crowded into the queues of the surrounding more spooky attractions. Purple and orange string lights wrapped around the fence posts twinkled in the darkness, and eerie music played from speakers hidden around the decorations, adding to the more mature nighttime atmosphere of the festival.

“We ought to do the corn maze next, now that it’s dark out,” you suggested before taking a careful bite from your toffee apple, looking across the table at Percy with a teasing smile. “Should be more spooky than the hayride.”

“As long as you don’t think you’ll get too scared,” Percy said with his little smirk. If he was honest, he found the idea of you getting freaked out by some teenage scare actor in the maze quite amusing. He hoped to see it so he could act as your white knight. 

“I think I’ll manage. But if you need to, you can hide behind me and I’ll protect you.” Wishful thinking, she knew, but it was so fun to pick on him. 

The two of you took your time, enjoying each other's banter while finishing up your treats before queuing up for the maze. You stood in front of Percy, letting him rest his chin on your head with his arms around your middle, enjoying the bit of affection which he typically kept behind closed doors. 

The queue moved slowly, with the workers staggering entry to the maze to keep it from getting overcrowded inside, but after a while, you reached the front of the line and a worker – a man wearing a crude werewolf mask and a flannel button down – handed you a flashlight and ushered the two of you inside.

“Don’t even say anything,” you said quietly with a playful nudge and a gesture back in the workers direction. If he’d thought the muggle depiction of ghosts was offensive, he’d surely think their rendition of werewolves was downright criminal. You’d have to agree with him there. 

Percy snickered at that. “You know me so well,” he quipped, offering you his arm to hold as you clicked on the flashlight and began to navigate the maze together. 

If you had told Percy about corn mazes beforehand, he’d have questioned what could possibly be so scary about a corn field that it could garner such a queue as a haunted attraction, but as he experienced it first hand, he came to understand on his own. It was dark, and the flickery orangy beam from the flashlight did relatively little to light your way. The tall corn stalks filtered the light from the lamp posts around the farm into long swaying shadows over the rows you walked, and the rustling of the dry husks at every turn had each of�� you questioning if it was really only the crop you were hearing. 

Keeping track of each turn the two of you made so that you wouldn’t get turned around, Percy was focused as you walked hand in hand through the maze. He told you all about the ‘right hand rule’ for solving mazes, and said that although it wouldn’t be the fastest way out, he assured you that the two of you wouldn’t get lost. You walked stiffly, anticipation in every step but especially as you rounded corners, knowing that at some point or another you’d be bound to run into scare actors. You liked a good jump scare, the thrill of uncertainty, but it did make you nervous, and you knew this brand of Percy’s rambling was in an effort to distract you from said nerves. It was appreciated. 

As the two of you made your way further into the maze you had the uncanny feeling that you were being followed. You’d turned to look over your shoulder several times as you followed Percy’s lead, keeping a tight grip on his hand as he led you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were just missing catching a glimpse of someone, dark shadows and many path offshoots between the corn stalks giving plenty of opportunity for someone to hide just out of sight. 

Percy of course had the same feeling, but he seemed wholly unbothered. 

“You seem so tense, you know it’s just some kid who works here following us, just waiting for the perfect moment to hop out and say ‘boo,’” Percy said, as though his cool rationale of the situation made it less unnerving for you. 

“Well I wish they’d just do it already and get it over with.”

Percy tutted. “They’re going for suspense, and it’s clearly working on you,” he teased with a nudge of your shoulder and a squeeze of your hand. The way he looked down at you with that smirk of his, that playful gleam in his eyes, made you feel a bit better. 

But your conversation with Percy and the way he so easily distracted you also gave the scare actor, who had indeed been following mere paces behind the two of you, the perfect opportunity to strike. 

Getting in front of the two of you using a passage to your left that you’d passed right on by (staunchly following Percy’s strategy), a tall figure dressed as the most grotesque scarecrow imaginable stepped out from the shadows and onto the path just in front of you. 

The face of the figure was completely covered in a burlap sack affixed with rope to their neck, with distraught painted eyes and a bloody looking stitched over slash in the sack for a mouth. A far cry from the sheet ghosts and ill fitting rubber werewolf masks you’d encountered earlier, the scarecrow was truly something of a nightmare. 

There was no shouting “boo,” or saying anything for that matter. The figure hadn’t done anything besides simply appear in front of you, but you screamed, released both Percy’s hand and the flashlight, and darted startled in the opposite direction. Percy chuckled with an amused shake of his head and waved at the scare actor before picking up the flashlight and turning on his heels to search for you in the maze, calling out your name, unsure of the direction you’d ran. 

Your heart was racing, and a sense of both relief and embarrassment settled into your chest as you slowed your sprint and came to a stop in what you hoped was a truly vacant portion of the maze. That scarecrow had gotten you good. 

“Percy!” you cried out, turning around in place and trying to discern where his voice was coming from. “I’m over here!” 

“Where is over here?” Percy called, letting out a huff of laughter as he made another turn, still unable to find where you’d run off to amongst the rows of corn. “You shouldn’t have let go of my hand, you know!”

You groaned, not particularly needing to be scolded right now, even if you could tell from his voice that he was thoroughly amused with your reaction to the scare actor. “Gee, thanks! So helpful to be reminded of that after the fact!” you called out to him. You could hear him snickering and you jogged down the row you were in, towards the sound of his voice.

Finally, you could see the dull orange glow from his flashlight bouncing between the stalks of corn just a few rows over. “Stay where you are, I can see the flashlight!” 

“Alright, alright, come on then,” he said and waited for you, arms crossed. He could hear rustling and snapping of husks and suspected you were cheating and cutting through rows of corn rather than finding your way to him the fair way. 

His suspicions were confirmed when you climbed out from the corn stalks beside him, your hair getting caught in the leaves, and your cardigan with little bits of plant matter sticking to the yarn. Percy preened you, as you looked up at him with a satisfied little grin, glad to be back with your boyfriend. 

“Silly girl, and a cheat at that. You’re not supposed to plow through the rows like an erumpent,” he said as he pulled a bit of corn tassel from your hair. His hands settled on your waist after he brushed off your cardigan.

“Farm’s lucky I only pushed through a row or two and that I didn’t tear my way out of the maze entirely.”

Percy laughed, taking your hand once again and retracing his steps to get the two of you back on track to finish off the maze. 

“I suppose they are. You’re cute when you scream, you know? I’d like to take you back home and really give you something to scream about,” he teased.

Your face went red, cheeks heating up in the chilly evening breeze. You loved when Percy got brazen in the quiet moments when no one else could hear. “Maybe if we could ever find our way out of this maze.”

“Well… No one’s around. We could apparate out, yeah? If anyone hears the crack they’ll likely just assume it’s a sound effect.”

Percy was nothing if not thoroughly convincing.

Before giving him a chance to remind you not to splinch yourselves, you’d intertwined your fingers with his and in a whirring crack the flashlight clattered  flickering to the ground in the maze and you were standing on your front porch yet again, gripping each other a bit more tightly as each of you got your footing. Percy stepped forward against you, your back hitting your door and the back of your head cushioned by the wreath that hung there as he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours, his knee between your legs keeping you in place.

You kissed him back, the sweet taste of toffee apples still on his tongue for you to enjoy. Through the clash of lips, you fiddled under your cardigan producing your wand from your hip, you unlocked your door, one of your hands twisting the knob open and the other gripping the loose fabric of his jumper as you led him backwards and into your flat. Large, lithe hands slid down your waist and gripped your hips, kneading the skin there and you felt your lower lip between his teeth before he pulled back from the kiss, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

Percy Weasley catching his breath, dilated pupils with red, kiss swollen lips was always a damn sight, and you took the moment as he was collecting himself again to look him over like the artwork that he was. He chuckled softly under your intense gaze, it always shook him, the way you so clearly wanted him.

“Come on then, I trust I don’t have to help you find your way to the bedroom,” he said, ever confident with the way you looked at him like you’d eat him if you could. 

“No, no I think I know the way in this case, thank you though,” you said and grinned, turning your back to him as you pulled him by the hand to your room. He pulled the door closed behind you.

Percy always undressed you slowly, and tonight was no different. He took his time with each button on your cardigan, and laid it neatly over the back of an armchair in your room. (If he tossed it on the floor the yarn might snag on something and that wouldn’t do.) Your other clothing, however, was fair game, and he didn’t pay attention to where your undershirt ended up, he simply removed it before guiding your back to lay flat on your bed, and he took your legs in his hands as he pulled off your boots and tugged down your pants. 

He took an odd sort of pleasure in being fully clothed while you were nearly naked. He was calm and collected as you laid there in anticipation for a pleasure only he could bring you. It always made him feel powerful. He removed only his shoes before climbing over you on your bed (he was polite, after all) and his lips met your jaw with open mouth kisses while his hands roamed along your chest and slid behind your back to unclasp your bra. He guided your arms out of the garment before tossing it over his shoulder with a smirk. 

“Beautiful,” he said, his eyes roving your skin. His fingers slid under the elastic of your panties and he pulled them down and off before continuing. “The way you were calling out my name when you’d gotten yourself lost in that maze… I want to hear it again. This time you’ll be lost in me.” He took off his glasses and set them on your bedside table.

You hummed and nodded, sinking into the blankets beneath you as Percy kissed along your navel before parting your legs and dipping his head between your thighs, drawing expletives from your lips as his tongue ran along your heat. Your fingers delved into his tousle of curls, giving them an appreciative tug as you flex your hips against his mouth, but you weren’t crying out for him just yet.

Meticulously, he worked you over with his tongue until your thighs trembled against his face and your back arched up from the mattress, your fingers digging into your bedding,  trying to stay grounded as he sunk two fingers into your core. Beckoning you closer to the edge with the curl of his digits,  your mouth hung open and those pretty, breathy whines flowed from your lips, you were truly getting lost in him and the hot pleasure he was bringing upon you. You held off for as long as you could, wanting to take every last second of paradise he was offering you before you finally obliged him, calling out his name as that pleasure crested and you came for him. He pulled his face away, raising himself on his elbows so he could get a good look at your face, his fingers still working you through it until your hand met his wrist with a tug and a breathy cry.

“Had enough, then?” he asked you, his voice soft and even as you trembled after coming apart. He crawled up your mattress and laid down alongside you, his arm laying over your stomach, giving your side a loving little squeeze. The soft wool of his jumper tickled against your bare skin.

“More than enough, for now,” you said and nodded, body finally starting to calm down but your breath still shuddered. 

“Mm, I’m glad,” he murmured and leaned in to kiss your face. He’d do his best to ignore the aching want in his trousers for now, wanting these precious moments to be all about you. He’d get his in the morning.

You soaked in his gentle affections while you finished coming down, tired now and ready for sleep. You turned to your side to face him, and nuzzled your nose to his with a satisfied grin. “I’d have brought you to a Halloween fair years ago if I had known that would be my thanks.”