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unholyverse · 1 year ago

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waterparks // marvin magazine issue #10

(full transcript under the cut)

Waterparks

WORDS by HOLLY SOLEM

PHOTOGRAPHY by DANIEL PRACOPCYK

Waterparks are places you go for fun; both pools and slides and the gloriously buzzy, pop punk band featuring members Geoff Wigington (lead guitar), Otto Wood (drums), and singer/guitarist Awsten Knight, whose neon energy matches his hair. Their music leads you down sonic chutes and up rainbow ladders with four albums, countless tours, millions of listeners and a recent signing with Fueled By Ramen, the label under which they are about to drop their highly anticipated 5th studio album. MARVIN had the good fortune of catching up with Knight—who is busy prepping for a European tour, a US tour and the release of the band's new album—to talk about all that goes into creating the bubbly world of Waterparks.

The new album titled Intellectual Property features eleven legit bangers filled with anthemic choruses. psychedelic experimentation and hooky melodies all polished to a sheen. There are hints of megalithic rock bands like Muse, inspiration from The Beach Boys and the pop punk sounds we have come to expect. But as for the "pop" part, this record goes in hard with collaborations with the likes of blackbear and songwriter/producer Julian Bunetta.

I love pop music and we got an offer to write with this dude, Julian, who has credits on 95% of One Direction's discography. I fucking love One Direction. I don't want to be dramatic but let's say I've got a top 60 favorite songs, I think four or five are One Direction songs. And Julian's written on all of them. I was just like, 'I want to do what I do but with him too.' And then I made "FUNERAL GREY", "BRAINWASHED", and "FUCK ABOUT IT", with him.

For this album, the band brought in more outside alliances than on previous albums, with Knight saying. "I think I was more open to [collaborations] on this album. Other people's opinions and thoughts and stuff like that. Normally, I don't really love writing with people that I don't know very well because it can feel very sterile. You walk in and they're like, 'what do you want to write about? You're like, 'oh fuck'—because it's a personal thing." And when it comes to getting personal, Knight is also realizing that to his surprise, the more personal he gets-the more vulnerable lyrically—the more universal the message.

I feel like I used to be kind of freaked out by [vulnerability], especially earlier, on album one. I was really nervous about it and it sounds so lame in retrospect but I didn't even want to do any acoustic songs. I liked burying myself a lit- tle bit behind a big instrumental. [The song] "21 Questions" for example. I sent that along with all the other demos to Benji because I wanted his opinion and he was like, 'this is one of the best ones.' Those wind up being the favorites, which seems counterproductive because songs are supposed to be relatable. And I never feel like I'm being relatable but I try to be less selfish with the writing. I want this to be for someone else.

When Knight refers to "Benji" he is talking about Benji Madden, one half of legendary pop punk duo Good Charlotte. Benji, along with his brother and bandmate Joel, manage Waterparks after discovering them on YouTube and DM'ing them on Twitter back in 2015. Knight received the news of the Maddens' invitation to fly to LA for a meeting while working as a babysitter who gave guitar lessons.

I called the guys and we're like, 'holy shit.' So we all went and bought swimsuits because…California. And yeah, that was it. After we met them, we went back to our hotel and were just like, 'what is happening? A week ago we were still passing out flyers outside of other people's shows. And we're right here, right now. This is the weirdest shit.'

A literal dream-come-true for Knight and the band, who eventually would make the move to LA from Houston while missing its Tex-Mex and Thai food, and of course, his family. But when it comes to the weather, he's all about California. He doesn't even mind the earthquakes. He was in a rooftop hot tub during one and actually found it rather exciting. For a man who has toured the world, there's a bright-eyed innocence and almost childlike wonder to him. His seeming lack of cynicism is as refreshing as freshly fallen snow which he admits he only saw for the first time not that long ago. But now, Knight talks about having stress dreams as he and the band get ready to embark on a European leg, followed by an extensive US tour.

Here's the thing, I like to play shows and I like to meet people. The other 22 hours of the day, I like having my space. I'm pretty particular, you know what I mean? I like my zone where I can sit and just do stuff. You go from peace and quiet and doing what you want all the time to sharing a small living space and a bus with twelve people. It's basically having twelve people in your living room for two months. And you're just like, 'ah, but the shows are great' as long as the shows are fun and everyone is having a great time, that makes it worth it to me.

He's also superstitious. Around his apartment there are crystals, there are obsidian and selenite wands in front of all the mirrors. He has a healer-type person come in and energetically clear his space, insisting he throw away objects that may have "dark entities" attached. "I'm luckier than people I know. They're like, 'why is the light always turning green when you go to it? Why do you always get the front spot at the store?' I'm like, it's because I don't split the pole, you know? Can't split a pole when you're walking. There's a bunch of superstitions. But I follow them and I'm crazy lucky."

In addition to music, he recently penned a well-received book of personal essays called, You'd Be Paranoid Too (If Everyone Was Out to Get You). He plans to write a novel next and has also started a clothing line called HiiDef. that fabricates small collections that sell out fast. His enthusiasm for the line is on par with music. "If everybody made the songs that I wanted to hear, I wouldn't have to do this. The same thing applies with clothing." Passion abound, he is all smiles when discussing plans for the future of Waterparks.

How do I get to the fucking moon? I think anyone who hears this album is going to love it. Cause I think it's incredible. I'm looking at the songs right now. I'm just like, 'man, straight slappers.' Even the last song, which I know wouldn't be a single or anything-that's probably one of the best accomplishments of a song that we've ever been able to pull off. I see this album in plaques on the wall. All right, we're manifesting now.

He names his goals out loud, as one is meant to do when calling them in, mentioning things like how much he'd like to play the Redding and Leeds Festivals at sunset. Then he pulls up the Waterparks US tour schedule online while musing, "I want one of those big "Sold Out" things across all the dates. It's getting there dude. Yeah, actually, it's going crazy right now." In real time, he seems to discover that the banners that cross nearly all of the show dates do indeed read, "Sold Out". And then it's clear. Awsten Knight is lucky. But luck is really about preparation meeting opportunities and he has definitely shown up to the game prolific and prepared. Five albums in, it's clear that Knight and Waterparks have only just begun.

@waterparks

#i scanned this big ass magazine and photoshopped it back together after i found out you could buy this digitally so you better reblog #awsten knight #otto wood #geoff wigington #waterparks #i.zip #anyways story time #only reason i bought this is bc i saw this at barnes and noble at the mall and it was wayyy cheaper than if i got a physical online #$25 instore vs $30 online + $20 shipping which is INSANE but the fact that this is the size of my torso is even more insane #it's just some puff piece like the rest of the shit you'd expect from a rich people magazine that brands itself as punk #and that josh madden shilled his way into again lol

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marlynnofmany · 2 years ago

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Scary Stories in Space

If you’ve ever wanted to experience the rapt attention of bodybuilder-shaped swamp monster/goldfish crosses, who are equal parts muscles, fins, and floaty silk clothes with absolutely zero interest in blinking, then I can’t speak highly enough of telling ghosts stories to a pair of Frillians.

That hadn’t been the plan; it just came up in conversation while we tidied the storage hold. Our ship was going to take on a lot of cargo soon. There were things on the floor that needing picking up, which was boring, so we passed the time with stories.

As it turns out, Frillians love ghost stories.

“Then what happened??” asked Blip when I paused for effect. She’d frozen in place holding a wrench and a heat sensor, wide-eyed in a cloud of fluttering silks and fins, all electric blue and bright red and deeply invested in my story. Her brother Blop was her mirror in aqua and lavender.

“Then,” I said, picking up a crowbar, “When he went to let her out of the car, he found a hook on the door handle!” I caught the crowbar on my hand dramatically.

“Ohhh!” they chorused with a gratifying flinch, for all the world like frat bros watching someone get hit in the nuts. “Near miss! Oh, wow!”

I grinned and put the crowbar in a cabinet while they rehashed the very simple story to each other. I’d already told them a few others, and I was going to run out of stories before they ran out of enthusiasm.

Blip asked, “What do you think they did when they found that?”

With a shudder like a bird fluffing feathers, Blop suggested, “Throw it as far away as possible? Run into the house?”

Blip nodded, fins still flared slightly. “Maybe both. Then call the authorities.”

I walked past to collect a stray cable. “I don’t know about the authorities where you’re from, but mine wouldn’t have been much help.”

The twins discussed this some more, then agreed that the best response would be to run screaming into the house and lock every door they could find. Only then did they remember that they were supposed to be cleaning, and resume putting stuff away.

After three seconds of silence, Blop asked, “Know any more?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Lemme think.” I shelved a box and looked around the room for inspiration. No ghosts hid in this storage hold, though it had been home to many an animal cargo. The reinforced clear pen was still empty, and had been for a while — our cargos were mostly boxes these days. The door to the hallway stood open, and I almost had a thought about some doorway-based haunting, but couldn’t pin it down. I moved to stack a few stale tubs of animal food while I thought.

Then my cat Telly walked in, recently free to roam the ship on a provisional basis, and I had an idea. The fact that Telly had made a beeline for Blip’s spare overcoat helped. She burrowed right under, sniffing out the shrimp sticks that were undoubtedly hidden in several pockets.

Neither Frillian noticed.

“There was one story,” I said, watching them both perk up like meerkats. Fishy, musclebound meerkats. “The legend of the Pants With Nobody Inside Them.”

“Pants With Nobody Inside Them?” they dutifully asked.

I tugged at my own pant leg. “People where I’m from wear a lot of clothes that are shaped to fit our bodies, and have the same silhouette when they’re empty. Just imagine how creepy and unsettling it must have been for the first person to venture into a dark forest at night, and see the shape of another human — but only the bottom half. Walking … steadily … towards them.” I took slow and deliberate strides toward the far side of the animal pen, drawing their gaze away from the shrimp stick excavation.

“That sounds terrifying,” Blip declared. “Did they run?”

“Oh, you bet they did!” I said, jogging slowly in place, then speeding up. “But the pants ran after.”

Blop squeaked in fear, muscly arms bent to bring his hands to his mouth.

They had no idea how hard I was working not to laugh. “That first person got away, and so did the next. But it kept happening, and the pants got faster each time. People started to worry about going outside, and wonder about their own clothes — they’d look at a pair of pants on the floor, and imagine it starting to get up on its own. Then OH JEEZ WHAT’S THAT?!” I pointed through the clear walls of the pen.

Both Frillians whirled and screamed at the sight of — as promised — an item of clothing moving around.

Telly bolted in panic, with one shrimp stick in her mouth and several others scattering in all directions. I heard someone down the hall yelp, though it was hard to make out over the Frillians screaming.

“WHAT WAS THAT?”

“WAS THAT AN ANIMAL?”

“WAIT, THAT WAS YOUR ANIMAL, WASN’T IT?”

“WHAT WAS IT DOING IN MY COAT??”

I leaned against a wall, laughing. I couldn’t hold it back any more. “Stealing your shrimp sticks,” I managed. “Sorry.”

After a little more yelling and hyperventilating, during which three other crew members came to see what the emergency was, they finally calmed down. The rest of the crew was waved away.

“So,” Blip said, clearly determined to speak evenly, “How does the story end?”

I was still grinning. “Somebody makes friends with the pants. They were chasing after people because they were lonely.”

“What!” Blip exclaimed, fins spread and eyes wide, which just made me burst into laughter again. Blop echoed her.

“It’s a children’s story,” I explained. “I think the pants wanted to dance with other people. Or they wanted someone to wear them; I honestly don’t remember the details. But they were lonely.”

Blop shook his head. “Lonely haunted clothing,” he said. “Your planet sure has some memorable ones.”

Blip picked up her coat at arm’s length, and I couldn’t tell if she was looking for damage or ghosts. “Maybe it was hungry,” she suggested.

“I’m sure many ghosts like shrimp sticks,” I said, picking one up from the floor. “I’ll bet we could think up a new story about that. Maybe they’re haunted by the ghosts of the shrimp, mad about being eaten?”

Their dismayed expressions told me that such a story might ruin their favorite snack for them.

“Or,” I said, turning on my heel, “We could think up a story about a haunted… stun gun! Maybe it keeps a ghostly copy of all the people it’s stunned. How do you think a story like that would work?”

To my delight, Blip and Blop proved just as interested in composing new stories as listening to old ones. The rest of the tidying session passed quickly.

I take no responsibility for the nightmares they inflicted on the rest of the crew.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

(And yes that’s a reference to the Dr Seuss story.)

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #humans are storytellers #ghost stories #featuring the return of everybody's favorite space himbos #even though one's a girl #their species handles gender differently anyway #they definitely qualify #writeblr #writers on Tumblr

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sincerely-anascot · 7 months ago

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Rain douses the district of Ehrmich. The concept of downpour still baffles her—the abundance of water and the rumbling of thunder never did reach home.

Gliding through the back door of the building, she leaves her drenched cloak in what would have been the mudroom of the abandoned dwelling. She weaves through the stairs and dodges open windows to reach the attic.

She stills when she notices the tea set on her dining table and rolls her eyes at how the place appears slightly cleaner than she left it.

“Leave my shit alone, Levi,” she says into the deceptively empty room.

Paying no mind to the figure revealed by closing her door, she silently pads to her makeshift kitchen and picks one of the tins in her cabinet and sets it on the counter. It remains unopened from when she liberated it from some old noble’s castle in Wall Sina.

“Here. Now, get lost.”

Unlike every time she shoos him off with his monthly tea caddy, his usually unheard footsteps follows her behind a wall of curtains into the makings of a bedroom.

She does not miss a beat and began removing wet layer after the other until she stood bare. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.

When she’s covered with her nightgown, he finally speaks, “Your operation last week reached the higher ups.”

“Hm. I thought they’d have caught on months ago.”

“You don’t give the MP a lot to work with.” He sounds almost proud.

A twitch of her lip almost blooms into a smirk as she reaches for a towel. It’s the most words they’d spoken to each other ever since making contact last year. With the speed only she could contest, he grabs the fabric from her hand.

“Let me,” he says. She considers dropping him to the ground for invading her space.

“Sit.” He gestures to the bed and she finally looks at his face when she hears the uncertainty under his command.

Levi looks more sleep-deprived and the ever present frown on his face more prominent. No one would have noticed the difference. But none of them were her.

With a huff, she relents.

When his hands sifts hrough her hair, she immediately regrets it.

Dimmer days than the storm outside trickle through a crack in her defenses. Back when light was a commodity but her heart full as he never fails to volunteer to take care of her grooming. Back to when he’d run his fingers from the base of her skull to the tips resting at her bare behind. The moments when he would ball and tangle her hair to take them both into new heights of pleasure—

A shiver jolts her back when his fingers brushes her ear.

“That’s enough,” she hisses and grabs the towel from his hand.

For old times sake, she’d riffle through the needlessly stocked pantries of those rich bastards his tea. When she heard what had happened to Isa and Farlan, she allowed him to use her abode as a safe haven when the nightmares would come back after every expedition. She actively ignores the fact that he could have taken his supply without waiting for her to return every single time. When he needed information it was there for him to use to support the Scouts.

She would give him anything. But she will never surrender herself to him.

Never again.

“I’ll have a new tin for you next time.”

She parts the curtains.

“Leave.”

He hesitates, hands tighten into fists before he silently makes his exit. The scent of him mixed with rain is new but familiar as he walks past her, shoulders almost colliding.

Just before the curtains close, she hears him say, “Don’t get caught, Dove.”

She has half a mind to rip the heavy fabric open to see if wore the expression to match the tenderness in his voice. A scream has crawled its way to the back of her throat barred only by painfully pinching lips as she watched his shadow grow smaller. The nerve of that man to utter her once cherished name as if it hadn’t fallen from grace; a once treasured endearment decrepit to a mere criminal’s moniker.

Tears of frustration choruses with the rain. She falls to a crouch begging her own body to not betray the walls she had built over the years.

Yet as she gazes down her window, her hand reaches out to the man under his umbrella as he crosses the street—the sight of his retreating form a recurring nightmare.

“Be careful out there, Raven,” she begs.

#she was his freedom #ravens mate for life #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi x reader #levi x oc #levi x you

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puppiesandnightlock · 8 months ago

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LINK: Cause you're a nightmare that i've not been dreaming of

Summary: It's all come down to this one event. Their friends have planned out the perfect moment and all Damian and Jon need to do is say the words. Easy as pie.

ft. Jason and Roy as chaperones, road trips, Ferris wheels, and some really cheesy fireworks confessions

“Alright, Squirts, listen up, for those of you who don't know me, my name is Jason and that’s Roy.”

Jason was turned around in the driver's seat, going over introductions. The man next to him had a trucker cap on and was wearing a dark red tank top, showing off the full sleeve of tattoos running up his right arm.

He waved, propping his chin up next to the headrest on the passenger’s side. “I’m going to do a quick roll call, just to make sure we are not missing anyone. Once we get that, we’re good to go.”

A cheer went up, and settled quickly as Jason began naming people. Damian offered an earbud to Jon, who took it, settling back and shutting his eyes.

Skylar and Akira were scribbling onto the sketchbooks they’d brought, Kathy and Maya were behind them, dictating what they thought should go on it. Colin was avidly asking questions to the driver's seat.

“We’ve got a four hour drive, and we’re only making two pit stops, this is the last offer i’m making before i start the car.”

No one got up and the car started the radio being flicked on and soft music filling the car as they started on their journey.

Within thirty minutes, Jon had conked out against Damian’s shoulder, still with the shared earbud in one ear, the other in Damian’s. The boy himself was half asleep, head leaning on the glass of the window. Colin had propped his phone up and was playing a random downloaded movie, Akira and Skylar sharing a random game of tic-tac-toe.

After the second hour and a half, they were beginning to get rowdy. Jon was arguing with Akira about some inane topic that was probably not legal, Colin was playing keep away with Damian’s phone and backpack, Maya was hissing at them all to shut up as Kathy had fallen asleep in the midst of their chaos somehow.

The car screeched to an abrupt halt and they all yelped, grabbing onto another or a part of the car. Roy turned to the back, Jason tapping his fingers impatient on the steering wheel.

“Alright, that’s much better. Colin, give the bat brat his stuff back, Jon and Akira, both of you are wrong, it’s much easier to do the third option. Keep the noise to the minimum if you would all like to stay alive on this trip, because my husband is much less nice than he seems, contrary to appearances.”

“Yes sir.” Six kids chorused back at him.

“Not a brat.” Damian grumbled.

“Kind of are.” Jon poked his cheek. “What’s with the Bat part though?”

From the front of the car, Jason snorted. “Oh boy, now that’s a nice story.”

“Jason, please don’t-”

“You all know Batman, right?”

They all nodded, the tips of Damian’s ears burning red and he attempted to hide himself in Jon’s shoulder.

“Baby Damian was obsessed with anything Batman, for some unknown reason. Every single one of his toddler pictures have him in some kind of Bat reference, and he had this little bat hoodie with ears he’d wear all the time, and put the hood up and would say “I’m the Bat!” in this tiny little squeaky voice.”

The car had gone up in laughter, and Jon had put an arm around Damian, whose face was now burning in embarrassment.

“Shut up, oh my god.” The plea was muffled, and his older brother paid absolutely no attention to it, continuing on.

“Went on until he was maybe eight, and then he got back into it because of a show that would play on cartoon network? And I don’t think it’s ever returned to that level but there is no one in this family who does not call him a nickname without adding the bat.”

“That’s adorable .” Jon said, Damian groaning and attempting to disappear. Skylar agreed with the sentiment, Colin, Akira, and Maya attempting to quell their laughter. Kathy was sneakily snapping a picture of Jon and Damian in their position, since the words that accompanied had been less than platonic.

It tapered off into a quieter buzz, most of them being occupied by a phone balancing on the drivers headrest and playing a random movie.

By the time they arrived at the Brandens’, all of them were either sleeping or half-asleep. Before Jason could stop the car and make the announcement, Maya hissed ”Wait!” silently and urgently.

In the backseat, Jon and Damian were curled into each other, Damian on Jon’s shoulder and Jon’s head on top of his, hands loosely intertwined.

”shit, SHIT, someone take pictures!!” Six phones were promptly whipped out, all taking care to turn off the flash and taking pictures from different angles.

“Send all of those to me,” Jason instructed, turning off the car. At the motion, they stirred, everyone in the car whipping around to give some sense of normalcy as if they had not all been cooing over them.

“Oh.” Jon sprang away from him. “Sorry, sorry, did I crush you?”

“I’m not as weak as you innately believe me to be.” Damian grumbled, ears flushed pink as he looked out the window, their hands still resting together. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“oKay, on that note, we’ve arrived. Please disembark from the vehicle in an orderly fashion, and do not slam any of the doors or you will have a very unpleasant return.” Roy got out first, opening the driver’s seat door for a very pleased looking Jason.

They clambered over each other to get out, sighing dramatically as they all stepped out. “Freedom!” Colin shouted, jumping up and down a few times.

“My legs went numb.” Akira muttered, holding onto the side of the car. Skylar patted their arm sympathetically, backpack jangling.

“This is pretty big.” Maya looked at the surrounding farmland appreciatively. “How much of this is your folks?”

“Bit farther down, I'll take you by the boundary line sometime, there’s a nice little place me ‘n Jon would go play as kids.” Kathy pointed to a place in the unseeable distance, coming a bit closer to her.

“That sounds nice.” Maya said, trailing off into a silence until Jon came running out of the car and slinging an arm around Kathy’s neck.

“Ooh, i have missed this place. Our treehouse still up?”

“All of our hideouts are alive and kickin’.” Kathy said, “You should take your boy down to one of them sometime.”

Jon looked around, before dipping his head down and mumbling, “Not my boy.”

“Not yet .” Kathy poked him in the stomach, and as he doubled over, ruffled his hair, dashing off with a laugh.

“HEY!” He took off after her, the two of them laughing. Damian came up besides Maya, watching them chase each other.

“You know, I don't think I've really seen him act like this.” Maya remarked. Damian only smiled, mind flooding with flicks of moments and the sound of childlike laughter.

“It’s not something he had much reason to be like, I suppose.”

“It’s cute.” She nudged him. “Puppy-like.You like puppies, don’t you?”

“It is… endearing. ” The last part was much quieter. “It feels wrong. But right, at the same time. The feeling is…new, yet curious. And not entirely unpleasant.”

“You two will figure it out.” Maya smiled, pushing his shoulder a bit. “I’m gonna go and get ready, we’re going out to the fair today.”

“Okay.” He brushed his hair back, watching his small group of friends, eyes trailing after Jon’s form, his laughter keeping the soft smile on his lips.

“You know, I think we have a history of this kind of thing.” A voice came from behind him, wiping the smile off of his face in place of a scowl.

Jason came up behind him, Roy playfully putting the hat he was wearing onto Damian's head.

Stupid older brothers.

“So I heard.” Damian drawled, turning to look pointedly at the both of them. “Tutoring, boy on the wrong path and a nerd. Except I was just better, not a nerd.”

“Fuck you, i was a cool nerd.” Jason crossed his arms. “Had an A in P.E. and everything.”

“You were also a scrawny little shit who carried books everywhere, had glasses for a short amount of time and could quote Jane Austen at the drop of a hat.” Roy set his chin on Jason’s shoulder. “Sorry, babe.”

“Well, you married this nerd.” Jason sniffed, before turning to Damian. “ You were like four, you can't tell me shit.”

Damian scowled. “You’ve simply come along to antagonize me, haven’t you?”

“That, to intimidate your friends and future boyfriend, and because ask yourself, would any of them have been any better?”

“Richard would have.”

“Dickhead and Wallance would have played showtunes the whole time, been sickeningly in love, and would have shown all of your baby pictures and embarrassing stories within the first five minutes of the drive, especially if he saw you and Jon.”

“Whatever.” He huffed. “Will you both be escorting us to the fairgrounds?”

“Yeah, and we’re leaving in thirty minutes, so change if you want to, baby bat.” Jason took the hat off and ruffled his hair, causing Damian to squawk and swat at him, before glaring at them both and leaving.

They all met back up in front of the car, dressed in a new pair of clothes and eager. It was about 12:30 by the time that they managed to make it to the grounds, seeing as they’d left early in the morning.

“Okay, ground rules before I unlock this car.” Jason and Roy turned around, and everyone but Damian snapped to attention.

“You have our numbers, I have yours, and if all else fails, you have a Damian. I don’t expect you to actually stay with us, but please try to stick together, if not a buddy system or something. Try not to get banned, maimed, or sick within the first four hours.”

He turned off the car and grinned. “Oh yeah, and have fun.”

That startled a cheer from them, and the doors unlocked, everyone filing out of the car. They elected to stick together as one big group until they found something that would separate them, Jason and Roy following behind before stopping at a concession stand and losing sight of them.

“Okay, so Colin, Kathy and I are gonna go check out the roller coasters,” Maya said. “Akira and Skylar are at the booths and Damian and Jon…”

“Are playing the games.” Jon finished.

“And I’m going to kick your ass, Kent.” Damian smirked.

“I’d like to see you try.” Jon shot back. Colin and Akira mimed gagging, the other three rolling their eyes.

“Take your weird flirting away from here, go, shoo.” Kathy pushed them away, both boys flushing as her words caught up to them.

As they left, their hands swung between them, just barely touching. They all shared a looked, the thought of absolutely hopeless running through their minds.

“I can't take this anymore.” Maya sighed. “I give, what time are those fireworks?”

This was driving them both insane . Jon glanced down, Damian’s hand brushing up against his for the millionth time. He wanted to reach out and grab it, but how would the other react?

He’d done it before, but now it felt different . He wasn’t leading him anywhere, and he wasn't gonna do the platonic hand holding thing he and Kathy had researched in middle school.

His eye caught on a shooting game, and grinned. There we go, he could challenge Damian, they’d chill, and bam, awkwardness diffused.

“Hey, D, betcha I can get a higher score.” He pointed to the game, watching as Damian’s gaze went directly to the plush puppy hanging on the side of the booth.

Perfect.

“You’re on, Kent.”

They raced to the game, slapping down their payment. The worker at the booth seemed rather amused by their playfulness, starting up the game.

“What the hell?” Jon squeaked as Damian began shooting with an insane accuracy, looking over to the side to grin, still getting the target.

“This is unfair !” He pouted. Plan foiled .

“Tough luck, J.” Damian pointed to the plush he wanted, shoving it at Jon. “Carry. Let’s go find another thing for me to kick your ass at.”

He huffed, accepting it anyways. The booth worker laughed, shaking their head. “Wow, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you’re whipped.”

Jon sighed wistfully. “If only he knew that, too.”

He chased after Damian, the both of them challenging each other to various games. Jon managed to win a small kitten, presenting it to Damian, who looked away laughing.

“I’ve already won several, Jon. I don’t think you should add more.”

“You should win something for me, then.” He said, half playing. “Then you'll have less.”

“Okay.” Damian looked surprisingly serious, taking his hand and pulling him down the aisle. “Your wish is my command, my Prince.”

Jon flushed at the sincerity, giddy at the hand-holding. “Would this make you my Knight?”

“I suppose I would.”

“Then, onwards, brave Knight, and pick your prince the most delightful of plushes.”

After a few minutes, Jon had a white puppy plush that he affectionately named Krypto. They fell back into the silence, dropping off the rest of the plushies at the car, before looking at the sky.

“It’s sunset. The fireworks will be starting soon. We should probably find the others.” Jon said, the puppy plush still under one arm. The kitten he’d won for Damian was peeking out of the bag the other boy had over one shoulder.

“Probably.” Damian threaded his fingers with Jon’s, swinging them idly between them. It had seemed completely natural, and suddenly, something clicked.

He needed to do something about this, and he needed to do something about it now. It was terrifying, the very thought, but if he really thought about it, nothing they’d done for weeks, months by now, really qualified as strictly platonic.

Damian was blunt, unclear with his emotions, and a jumbled mess on the inside of his cool, put together and prickly persona.

He could do this. Anxiety would not best him.

They met up in front of a picnic bench by the ferris wheel, the sun dipping deeper and the dark night coming to overtake it.

“All of you gremlins accounted for?” Roy asked, Jason besides him as they shared cotton candy.

“Yes sir!” Akira and Skylar had a large bag of kettle corn between them, Colin sneaking handfuls every few minutes.

“You guys empty every booth or what?” Maya grinned, Kathy poking her in the side to subtly motion to their intertwined hands.

“Dami here kicked my ass in almost everything.” Jon grumbled.

“Could have warned you against that.” Jason grinned, also taking note. “Anything interesting happen? Life changing developments we should know?”

“No.” Damian scowled, following his gaze and attempting to hide their joined hands. “What are we doing now?”

“Well, I think the ferris wheel is still open. We could catch that before the fireworks begin,” Colin began, everyone catching on.

“Yeah, sounds like fun!”

“You two should go ahead of us,”

Damian and Jon were ushered onto a cart, and strapped in before they could say anything, being shot thumbs up and teasing grins.

“What the hell?” Jon squawked as they were lifted into the air. “Jesus Christ, you swear the world was going to end if we didn’t get on this thing.”

“We’re friends with imbeciles.”

“Oh, have I been elevated to not-an-imbecile?”

“Ugh.”

Damian shoved him playfully, and the silence settled in. Suddenly, they were much more aware of the atmosphere, high up on a creaky metal wheel, spinning them into the darkening night sky.

“The stars are nice. You can’t see them this clearly from the city.” He said quietly. Their hands found each other again, and tentatively, Jon leaned his head on Damian’s shoulder.

“I’ll bring you down here again, we can go stargazing and you can tell me your smart people stuff.”

“It’s basic astronomy, Jon.”

“There are a bunch of things that I don't have the patience to memorize.”

Damian laughed, resting his head on Jon’s. “Hey, Dami?”

Jon’s voice came in a shaky whisper, his hand growing clammy. This had been building all day, and Jon was sure he’d explode if he didn’t say something soon.

“Yeah?”

“Gotta tell you something.”

Damian lifted his head up, and bit his lip. “I have something to say to you as well.”

“You can go first.” Jon squeaked, looking down and suddenly finding the railing of the cart extremely fascinating.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to go?” the pitch of Damian’s voice began rising and he coughed, willing it back down. “You began, of course.”

Shit.

“Ah, um, okay.” Jon breathed in. “So, we’re like, friends, right? And uh, gonna be real, at first, I don’t think we like each other much? Well, i mean, i definitely liked you, or like, the look of you which explains a lot when we think about cause holy shit i was a douche-”

Damian’s quiet laughter startled him from his ramblings, and with pink cheeks he looked up, seeing the light of the ride shine on his face, ears tinged pink.

“You are…very cute.”

Jon made a noise that in any other situation, would have severely wounded his pride, but right now the words were playing on repeat in his mind.

“That-that’s not fair!” He whined, taking his hand from Damian’s to use both to cover his burning face. “You can’t do this to me!”

“I think I can.” Damian whispered into his ear. “Might I pick up where you left off?”

Jon only nodded, still hiding his face in his hands. Damian shook his head, just slightly, and shut his eyes.

Okay. Don’t chicken out, Wayne. You’ve been waiting. You can do this.

“Hm. You were correct, with your earlier statements. We did not like each other very much. But we’re friends now, and every new thing that I find out about you draws me closer. A bit back, I believe that my affections may have begun to stretch a bit further than, say, strictly platonic.”

He paused, exhaling and attempting to quell his thoughts in a way that made sense. Jon lifted his face from his hands, eyes wide and hopeful.

Jon was dreaming, right? Was this some kind of dream?

"Judging by your poorly thought out speech, I was wondering if you might return the sentiments. Of course, it's perfectly acceptable if you don’t, i do not wish to force you into something or make you feel obligated-"

He was the one rambling now, but for the love of all that was holy, Damian could not shut himself up . He had one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the other still resting in his lap. The ride came to a stop at that moment, a whistling noise signaling the start of the fireworks began sounding. They were at the top, swinging a bit.

Jon grabbed his free hand, giving an affectionate, “Damian, shut up .”

Damian clicked his jaw shut and Jon cupped his face with his other hand. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay.” he whispered, shutting his eyes. Their lips met as the night sky burst into an array of color, hand in hand. Damian’s arm went around Jon’s neck, and his hand dropped to the smaller boy’s waist, bringing them closer together.

It was clearly inexperienced, but as they broke apart, stupid grins on their faces, that couldn’t have mattered more.

Jon leaned down, forehead resting on Damian’s, the sky still exploding behind them as the wheel cracked, signaling their movement.

“If that wasn’t clear, I really like you.”

“I ‘really like’ you too.” Damian hesitantly leaned up, pressing his lips to Jon’s again in a chaste kiss, pulling away and covering his mouth, quiet laughter escaping him.

Jon caught it, pulling it away from his face and into his own. “I keep telling you to stop doing that; it’s adorable and you shouldn’t hide it.”

Damian huffed, looking away but squeezing his hand gently. They got off the ride, walking towards the hill where the rest of their friends and Damian’s family were seated, gasping over the fireworks. They came up behind them, quiet enough not to disturb them. Jason noticed them, however, sending a subtle wink and smirk their way.

They were all seated under a tree, and Jon leaned against it, sitting down and opening his arms. Domain leaned back against his chest, Jon’s folded hands resting on Damian's stomach as the show went on.

Once it began winding down, the others took notice of their presence, and their positioning. Upon asking the question, Damian pulled Jon down by the collar of his tshirt and kissed him, letting go just as quick.

A cheer came up between all of them, whoops and jeers being thrown playfully at them. “Operation Damijon is a success!”

The two chose to ignore that last statement, settling into each other. They had their friends, each other, and a blossoming relationship.

Really, what more could they ask for?

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thinkingjellyfish · 8 days ago

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My Top 10 Favorite Choruses And An Explanation For Each

It’s hard to explain the appeal of music without a great education in it but I’ll try anyway. There’s nothing I love more than a good chorus and I will tell the world about it. Nothing can stop me, not my mom, the difficulty of explaining music, or god. So here’s my favorite courses and explanations after that.

Of Mind - Nocturne / Tesseract

Bleak / Opeth

Bodies / Sex Pistols

As The World Caves In / Matt Maltese

Romantic Homicide / d4vd

The Diary of Jane / Breaking Benjamin

Head Mounted Sideways / Vola

West Coast Smoker / Fall Out Boy

The Ghost of You / My Chemical Romance

Psychopomp / Thank You Scientist

10th favorite chorus Psychopomp / Thank You Scientist

Starting with a weird one. Psychopomp is a song by the prog band Thank You Scientist. It's long and a bit of an adventure with strange choices all around. Strange doesn’t equal bad as I find the song a fascinating listen that pulls me in.

But in order to explain the chorus we have to talk about the build up. The singing starts fairly low key compared to the harsh progy instrumentation of the intro. with the instruments the singing builds slowly. They have time. This song is a whopping 9 and a half minutes long. So they build into the first thing that sounds like a pre chorus but it’s not it goes into more build up, and then the chorus begins!

“You separate the physical from the unknown.” mysterious lyrics sung with power and length of delivery while the melodies of the instruments are pounding in a way not unlike Bleak by Opeth, my second favorite chorus but we will get to that.

He continues the long powerful delivery before speeding up with the line “cause you are eachother if you see your mother tell her” to me this feels like he’s letting us breath by spreading up and weakening the delivery if the powerful delivery kept going it would be overwhelming and boring. The rhyme scheme also picks up “eachother, mother, her.” coming rapid fire.

He continues the powerful delivery with “and you can’t afford to leave.” finally he finishes the chorus with “your paralyzed” the line that is the shortest of the chorus making it incredibly impactful. before sending us back to the beginning with the progy instrumentation.

The instrumentation is also interesting. In the beginning it was overwhelming but compared to the pounding of the chorus it almost seems like it’s allowing us to breathe. Despite it’s strange progyness.

In summary, please come back Thank You Scientist we miss you.

9th favorite chorus the The Ghost of You / My Chemical Romance

The first of the more well known songs on the list. This is my favorite MCR chorus. It’s very emo obviously but it’s emotional in a way unlike other MCR songs. The instrumentation in the beginning gives off to me a hopeless feeling. Unlike MCR’s more angry style on other songs.

This hopeless feeling is not reinforced but built on by the chorus where he sounds like he’s howling for something. I don’t quite understand what the song is about but someone has definitely died and he’s howling about how they are never coming back.

And the line “at the end of the world or the last thing I see.” is such a powerful intro to the chorus.

As a kid when I first heard this song (my brother showed it to me he was and still is a fan) I thought it was different from the others it really stood out to me. Helena never caught my attention for whatever reason and nothing from Black Parade would get me till I listened to the album in full but this song and its video hit me hard.

So a big part of why I love it so much is nostalgia plain and simple. But the emotion of that chorus is what caught my attention in the first place. And I think that says a lot. Even to a kid who had no idea about death I could understand that he is hurting and that is something to take note of.

I’ll post more analysis at a later time. see you!

#music #progressive music #progressive metal #2000s emo #emo #mcr #my chemical romance #thank you scientist

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solitary-cutie · 11 months ago

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Darkness to our light. Part II

Part I

Part III

Part IV

prompt: you and coriolanus are married, it's unbearable for you, but it will all end soon

contains: dark, manipulative, controlling coriolanus. fem!reader.

And so you are sitting in the living room waiting for the only person ypu could talk to - the piano teacher. Sharing with desire to continue your once neglected studies, Coryo did not fail to fulfill whim of his better half and help Her. He would always help, even without asking. No matter if you needed this intervention. He would spend all the money on your wants without even mentioning it, as if forgetting, deliberately ignoring any checks in the stores, but you clearly knew that this wastefulness was another yoke around your neck, because one should be grateful. Especially if the checks came in the mail, and the history of purchases served him in calculating the spending for the month.

“Hello. Hey, you guys quiet today? Helpers’s a bit tense today. Not even tea! Can you believe it? Didn't offer! - The teacher laughed, putting out a folder with notes, a pencil, an eraser and an orange leather notebook from her bag on the snow-white piano.”

“Oh yes, He's planning a dinner party, everyone's getting ready. He's inviting coworkers, his sister. He's looking forward to the promotion.”

“Oh, wow. Who's coming from yours?”

You didn't say anything, was ashamed of yourself. “No, it is his night.” Silence. “Maybe you'll come?” Open hope in the voice of her student, almost her age.

“When? I had plans, but I'd stop by.”

“It starts at 7:00. I'll be waiting, you know! You can come when it's convenient for you.”

A weightless touch, as if you'd brushed something off the back of her hand. You ran your eyes around the room. He's not home. The teacher softened.

“Okay, I'll try.” She finally sits down on a nearby chair. “Come on, show me how you've been practicing. Have you tried to put both hands together yet?”

“I tried, but no luck.”

“Did you play the metronome?”

“Yeah, I got more confused.”

“All right, I'll do the math. Go ahead. E-e-e, one and, two and--“

The game began, with mistakes and quick, hurried edits.

“You've changed.” Said the teacher, stopping counting out the rhythm, because the student was already helping herself with the silent movement of her lips.

“He says the same thing to me.” She chorused the rhythm.

“You're not so much flirtatious, laughing. The author's depression? When was the last time you sat down at the pen?” She smiled.

“I miss it. Okay, wait, what's the best way to play this? I forgot.”

The teacher intercepted her hands and began playing the obscure part, counting out the rhythm aloud with intonation highlighting that "And three, And four, And one...".

“You're unhappy.”

“No, why?”

“That's not a question. I can recommend a psychologist, the best woman I know. She helped me let go of my resentments.”

“I'm not resentful.”

“Teach you to love yourself, so you don't deny those resentments, but accept them. Appreciate yourself, don't deny being alone, but accept being one with yourself. You are not alone, know you can walk away from where you want to walk away from.” The teacher did not realize how she had pushed the piano aside and how she had moved on to passionate speeches. She had been spared the resentment, but not the desire to save.

You looked around the room again out of habit.

“At least he doesn't hit you?”

“No, God, of course not.” You caught the doubt in her eyes and a second frown furrowed her brow. “No, seriously, I wouldn't stand for that. I'm not leaving him. I can't.”

“There's no word for "can't."

“I mean, what dictionary can I give you to back that up? I don't even want to leave. We are one and the same, and he won't just let me go. The only way I'm getting out of here is with my feet up. If I'm lucky and he dies before I do, I'll have a few years of pleasure.” She smiled, starting the composition from the beginning.

“In the left hand hurry a little. And how can you reason like that about a man you're married to? And if the children come, what will you do?”

“The later they come, the better, God forbid now.”

“Does he want them now?”

You hesitated, not stopping the game. It was embarrassing. Again.

“Well he hasn't talked about them yet, though I don't know how he plans to.”

“So even your body doesn't belong to you? You don't talk about your plans, not your plans, but his.”

“My soul doesn't even belong to me. Look, my arms are tired, can I take a little break?” Nod. “What's the best way to pedal here?”

“First learn to control both hands.”

Silence.

You wonder if you could call it a pun. If your body and even the imperishable substance of your being belongs to your husband, a white-haired angel raised in hell and invited into the ether of paradise, a world of powerful, fully-endowed people, will you be able to control what you lost access to on the date that the calendar refers to as the "Anniversary of Dating"?

The remaining hour of class passed in silence, resulting in the learning of a new sonata, even with the use of a pedal to stretch the sound, giving it a smooth flow from one bar to the next.

“I have a question here: when will you finally learn the bass clef? Will you stop signing notes?” The teacher mocked, marking in the diary the next lesson for January.

“It's a rhetorical question.” You looked at the Interlocutor. “Oh man, I don't like that bass clef, I can't memorize it. The only thing I know is what the C note looks like. That's it.”

“Don't forget the "B."

“Oh yeah, and then..." She made a long road to nowhere with her hand.

“And then let the Snow land on top.” He stood at the white archway that opened the living room, leaning lightly against the blue wall with gilded patterns and trees.

You shuddered, nerves to no avail, you were easily frightened, which could not be said of your teacher, - a girl strong-willed. Nevertheless, the fright laid a heavy stone on her heart, sinking it into her heels, and she dropped her pencil and, looking at him confusedly, hurried to pick it up.

“I didn't mean to disturb you, much less frighten you.” The ice-cold eyes flashed over each of the girls, burning their insides with cold.

Coriolanus knew you were partial to this pianist. From the first time you met her, He had noticed the glint in your eyes. Gross, He didn't approve of it, but He also knew it was certainly not worth worrying about. You amuse yourself as best you can from lack of socialization with Him. Yes, maybe you complain about Him, suffer, but you won't leave Him because you don’t want to. These reflections might have reassured Him if He had once experienced a semblance of even doubt, let alone anxiety.

“Ginny, my wife and I are organizing a dinner party tonight. We'd love for you to come.” His eyes darted to you, looking at your teacher. What will you do? If you start coaxing her “friend”, this conversation never happened between you, but if you walk up to Him and...

“What a great idea!” You whispered, flying up to your husband and hugging him by the forearm. He smiles, it all became clear, you had already invited her, but was it scary to ask Him? “I was afraid to invite Ms. Ring because of the possibility of rejection.”

Now you are on His side, snuggling up to Him to get hers. Manipulative. And who are you trying to bend to your will is unclear.

“Yes, of course, thank you for the invitation, I'd love to come. But I'm afraid I'm busy, so I won't be able to make it to the beginning of the evening.”

“I didn't tell you the time, in case you get there.”

You both looked at each other. The pianist was confused.

“Dinner starts at 6:00 or 7:00 in the evening. Ms. Ring apparently skips a lot of dinner.” She tried to put the question into an impromptu justification for the two of them, but it came out badly. The answer to his line didn't work anyway.

“It starts at seven o'clock, but knowing some of the guests, they'll be a little later.” He looked at his wife. “Play the new composition you've learned for me.”

“We haven't played it all the way through yet. We need time.”

“Play it.” Demand…

#coriolanus snow #coryo x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo x you #fanfic #coryo snow #president coriolanus snow #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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cloama · 9 months ago

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I just heard Coco Jones’ new track, Here We Go(Uh Oh), a song definitely for the girls who still aren’t ready to go No Contact with their on again/off again ex. It’s something relatable for the twenty-somethings to screamiing along to in the car as they drive to afters. I did. It relate but I will tell you why that doesn’t matter. Because R&B. Storytelling is back, baby! Paint us picture, Miss Coco.

I really enjoyed the cinematic music video that accompanies the song. She’s going all in on the back half 20th century nostalgia here, with a little bit of everything. The cover art is cute 70s nod. No clue if that’s going to impact the entire album rollout but I’m sat, regardless. Having a retro aesthetic while singing about likes and posts is so anachronistically pleasing to me. She’s such a star and I really like this choice for a single. This track is going to get spins because it is so relatable to so many. Coco is going right up there with SZA and Summer Walker who are actual titans of Female Singer-Songwriters but don’t get the credit they deserve despite the numbers numbering. That is because they’re R&B artists and I encourage you all to go back to listen to them if you haven’t. R&B didn’t stop after your need for middle school slow dances. It’s still here and writers are still crafting stories. Coco is absolutely on that path to being an all-star writer and I’m excited to see her lock into this next phase of her career.

Back to my hope for the song… I believe this song will help keep up the momentum. It’s radio ready, with a classic sample that will drive spins to the original track as well as her own. Here We Go has a verbally stoccato chorus which is fun in R&B bc you can clap 👏🏿 your 👏🏿 hands emphatically along to the words and mean that shit.

By the second chorus I was ready:

🎶I 👏🏿know👏🏿when👏🏿said👏🏿say👏🏿good👏🏿bye👏🏿you👏🏿ain’t 👏🏿mean👏🏿no👏🏿good👏🏿bye👏🏿🎶

It reminded me of the “oh oh oh oh oh’s” in the original track.

Speaking of the Lenny Williams sample: it works. I am one of many who are tired of the lack of artful sample. This, to me, was artful and useful. The song being full length with a verses, choruses, and bridge (silly thing to point out but songs have gotten ridiculously short these days) means the sample comes dangerously close to wearing out its welcome, But it comes in just under the gun. I didn’t get tired of it. Why? Her steady melodies in each verse sail your through nicely and then you smack right into that fun choppy waters of the chorus. When the next verse hits you’re ready for another go. It feels exactly like going round and round with a partner. Come on, musical theme! Come on, melodic device!

This is absolutely my favorite thing about this track. Coco Jones is a super talented young woman. I genuinely hope it’s a hit.

4/5

#going to keep writing about things I do like bc it’s good for me.#coco jones #music #r&b #new music Friday #I’m a week late but shut up.#no I’m not #SoundCloud

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 2 months ago

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Near Miss | Sebastian Sallow x OC #37

Summary: Slytherin wins a Quidditch match and celebrates at the Three Broomsticks. Sebastian leaves early to see Evangeline; drunken antics ensue.

Words: ~6,400

Tags: Almost Confessions, Idiots in Love, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Friends To Lovers, Slow Burn, Longing, Unspoken Feelings, Romance, Soft Moments, Sharing a Bed

Timeline: Mid January

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

The Three Broomsticks was alive with the raucous energy of victory. The Slytherin Quidditch team had trounced Ravenclaw in a match that was as brutal as it was brilliant, and the team was reveling in their success. Tankards of clinked loudly, voices mingled in a cacophony of laughter and exaggerated retellings of the game, and someone—probably Jameson—was off-key in a bawdy version of the Slytherin house song.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his fifth old-fashioned in hand, grinning as Neva recounted her winning catch with the kind of dramatic flair only she could muster.

“And there it was,” she declared, lifting her hands as if holding an invisible Snitch. “The Ravenclaw Seeker didn’t even see it coming. Too busy gawking at Darian’s Bludger aimed for their head.”

“Distraction’s half the game,” Darian said with a cocky smirk, raising his tankard to her.

“To Neva!” Nicholas, their Keeper, boomed, standing and nearly knocking over his chair. “Fastest Seeker Slytherin’s seen in a decade!”

“To Neva!” the crowd chorused, their cheers echoing through the tavern.

Sebastian joined in, raising his glass in a toast before taking a deep swig. The warmth of the drink mixed with the buzz already humming in his veins. It was a good night. A great night, even. And yet, something was missing. No matter how good the moment, how loud the celebrations, there was a quiet space inside him that couldn’t quite be filled.

Imelda leaned over, elbowing him hard enough to make him jolt. “You’re quiet, Sallow,” she said, her dark eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Just pacing myself,” he lied easily, forcing a grin. “Someone’s got to keep you lot out of trouble.”

“Pacing yourself,” Jameson snorted from across the table. “You’re five drinks in. If anyone’s getting dragged out of here, it’s you.”

“Not likely,” Sebastian shot back, but his retort lacked bite. He took another sip of his glass, his gaze drifting lazily over the crowded room.

The Three Broomsticks was packed with students from all houses, though Slytherin’s victory made their green-and-silver scarves the most visible. Hufflepuffs huddled in a corner, chatting amicably; Gryffindors laughed boisterously near the bar. Ravenclaws were noticeably fewer in number—licking their wounds, no doubt.

Ominis was there somewhere, though Sebastian hadn’t seen him for at least twenty minutes. Likely, he’d found a quiet corner away from the chaos, tolerating the noise with his usual resigned air. Ominis was never one to miss out on Slytherin victories—though his patience for the accompanying revelry was usually limited.

Garreth Weasley, on the other hand, was front and center, thriving amidst the boisterous energy. He hadn't even wanted Slytherin to win the game, but it was hard to keep him away from a party, especially one at the Three Broomsticks. He was currently standing on a chair near the bar, bickering with Jameson about the Slytherin house song.

“It’s not nearly as catchy as Gryffindor’s,” Garreth declared loudly, gesturing dramatically with his tankard. “No offense, but you lot could use a chorus people actually want to sing.”

Jameson, who was already a tankard deep in his argument, crossed his arms and glared up at him. “We don’t need a catchy chorus. Ours is about winning, Weasley. Not fluff and nonsense.”

Garreth threw his head back with a laugh, almost spilling his drink. “Winning? Is that what you call that ragged chant you all mumble like you’re at a funeral?”

The surrounding Slytherins roared in mock offense, while Garreth grinned like he was enjoying every second of their ire. Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk at the scene, shaking his head as Jameson clambered onto a chair to meet Garreth at eye level, red-faced and shouting about house pride.

Across the room, Natsai stood near the bar, her arms crossed and an amused smile tugging at her lips as she watched the chaos unfold. She caught Sebastian’s eye and gave him a small nod of acknowledgment. She wasn’t one to frequent celebrations like this, but even she couldn’t resist the draw of a post-match party.

And yet, despite the sea of familiar faces, there was one conspicuously missing.

Evangeline.

Sebastian’s gaze lingered on the crowd as if searching for her, though he already knew she wasn’t there. She’d told him earlier she wouldn’t be coming. Something about catching up on homework, but he knew it was more about needing space. She never quite felt at ease in settings like this—too crowded.

He couldn’t blame her. But Merlin’s beard, he missed her.

Sebastian let out a slow exhale and raised his glass to his lips, as though the drink in his hand could fill the space Evangeline’s absence left behind. The warmth of the liquor spread through his chest, but it didn’t touch the ache that had settled there. He forced himself to focus on the celebration, on the rowdy laughter and the tang of spilled cider in the air, but his thoughts kept drifting back to her.

She’d probably be curled up in the Gryffindor common room by now, her nose buried in some book she’d insisted on borrowing from the library. Or maybe she’d already gone to bed, exhausted from another day of balancing schoolwork, Quidditch, and everything else she juggled.

“Another round, Sallow?” Neva called from across the table, shaking her empty tankard at him.

Sebastian glanced at his own drink—or what was left of it—and nodded. “Yeah, why not?”

Time blurred after that. Another drink appeared in front of him, then another. He laughed at Nicholas’s increasingly ridiculous stories, rolled his eyes at Darian’s attempts to charm Natsai, and even joined in the rowdy singing when Imelda dragged him into it.

But no matter how many times his glass was refilled, no matter how many jokes and toasts he shared, the ache remained. He wasn’t sure when Poppy Sweeting had slipped into the crowd, but she gave him a pointed look as she replaced his drink with a fresh one, teasing him about “getting ahold of himself" before disappearing again.

It wasn’t until his next sip that Sebastian realized she’d swapped his whiskey for water. He scowled, but the drink’s coolness was a sobering reminder of how far he’d let himself go tonight. The buzz in his head had turned into a fog, the world around him slightly unsteady.

At some point, the loud singing turned to background noise. The cheerful chaos became a blur of voices, and the once lively fire in his chest dimmed to a slow, persistent burn. He caught glimpses of his friends—their faces flushed with joy and drink—but they felt distant, their laughter too far away to reach him.

His thoughts drifted back to Evangeline again, as they always did. The way her brow furrowed when she was concentrating. The way her laughter always seemed to catch him off guard, light and musical in a way that made everything else fade.

And the way she looked at him sometimes—soft and knowing, like she could see right through him.

It hit him then, with the clarity only found in drunken realizations: he couldn’t do this without her. Whatever this was—celebrating, winning, living—it didn’t feel right unless she was there.

Sebastian pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, bracing a hand on the table as the room swayed slightly.

“Oi, Sallow!” Jameson called, raising a brow. “Where’re you off to?”

“Forgot something,” Sebastian mumbled, waving him off as he stumbled toward the door. The cool night air hit him like a splash of cold water as he stepped outside, and he inhaled deeply, trying to clear his head.

But his mind was already made up.

He needed to see her.

Sebastian shoved his hands into his pockets and started the trek back to the castle. The cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade were quieter now, the celebratory buzz contained within the walls of the Three Broomsticks. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, their light casting flickering shadows on the path ahead. The cold air bit at his flushed skin, but it only sharpened his determination.

The trek back to Hogwarts passed in a blur. His legs carried him on autopilot, though the alcohol buzz made the journey slower than usual. He reached the castle, weaving slightly as he crossed the courtyard.

By the time he reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, he was already rehearsing what he might say. Not that he had a plan, really. The idea of seeing her was more a feeling than a thought—a pull he couldn’t resist.

The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow as he stumbled to a stop in front of her. “You’re a long way from your dormitory, young man,” she said, her tone skeptical. “And you’re not exactly looking… balanced.”

“Just… need to see someone,” Sebastian slurred slightly, leaning against the wall for support. “Could you, uh, open up?”

The Fat Lady was not amused.

“You’re not even in Gryffindor!” she huffed, glaring down at Sebastian as he pounded on the portrait. "And do you know what time it is? Some of us have standards!”

“Come on,” Sebastian coaxed, his grin boyish but desperate. “It’s important. Life or death.”

“Hardly,” she muttered, folding her arms. “Off with you, now.”

Before Sebastian could argue further, the portrait swung open on its own, revealing one of the Gryffindor prefects, though Sebastian couldn't for the life of him think of his name.

“You lost, Sallow?” He looked down at him with a mix of amusement and annoyance.

“No,” Sebastian replied firmly, straightening himself as best he could. “I’m here to see Evangeline.”

The boy frowned. “At this hour? She’s probably—”

“Please,” Sebastian interrupted, the word tumbling out more urgently than he intended. “Just… can you tell her I’m here?”

The Gryffindor hesitated, but something in Sebastian’s expression must have struck a chord. With a sigh, he nodded. “Wait here.”

The door swung shut again, leaving Sebastian alone with his thoughts and the Fat Lady, who eyed him disapprovingly.

“I’m watching you,” she said primly.

He didn’t have time to retort before the portrait opened again, revealing a very tired-looking Evangeline in her oversized cardigan and Gryffindor pajama bottoms. Her hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders in waves, and she blinked at him in sleepy confusion.

“Sebastian?” she asked, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

He leaned casually against the wall, his grin a little too easy, a little too loose. “Miss me?”

Evangeline sighed as she stepped into the corridor, letting the portrait close behind her. “I thought you’d be out celebrating all night. What’s going on?”

“Celebrating’s boring without you,” he said simply, the words tumbling out before he could think better of them.

Her eyes softened, though she tried to hide it behind a raised eyebrow. “You do realize that’s possibly the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me?”

“But it’s still true,” he shot back, his grin widening. “Now, are you going to come with me?"

"Come with you where?" She folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head at him in mild exasperation. “Sebastian, it’s late, and I was about to go to bed. Wherever you think you’re dragging me, it can wait.”

“Absolutely not,” he said with indignation, taking a step closer to her. His voice was light, teasing, but there was an edge of sincerity in his gaze that gave her pause. “I left the party early, Evie. For you. The least you can do is humor me.”

She let out a small laugh, though her arms stayed firmly crossed. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes,” he admitted with a shrug, his grin unrepentant. “But that doesn’t make me wrong.”

Evangeline sighed. “Alright, fine. What is it you want?”

“First,” he said, holding up a finger, “I need to grab my pajamas. I can’t exactly sleep in this.” He gestured vaguely at his rumpled sweater and Quidditch trousers.

“And second?” she asked warily.

He leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to make her pulse quicken. “You’ll see.”

Evangeline narrowed her eyes at him, trying and failing to suppress the faint smile tugging at her lips. "Merlin's beard, fine. If only to make sure you don't pass out in the corridor."

“Excellent,” he said cheerfully, taking her hand without waiting for her to protest. “Come on, off to the dungeons we go.”

“Sebastian—” she began, but he was already tugging her along, his steps a little unsteady but determined.

The corridors of Hogwarts were quiet at this hour, the usual hum of student activity replaced by the soft flicker of torchlight against the ancient stone walls. Evangeline allowed herself to be dragged along, her hand warm in Sebastian’s firm grip. His steps were uneven, his balance betrayed by the drinks he’d clearly had far too many of, but he seemed undeterred, his pace almost gleeful.

“Do you have to stomp everywhere?” she asked, trying to keep her voice stern, though the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. “You’ll wake the entire castle and we’ll get caught.”

“Stomping?” he repeated indignantly, glancing back at her with mock offense. “I am striding, Evie. Striding with purpose.”

As they descended Gryffindor Tower, his antics continued. He bowed as they passed an empty suit of armor, then pointed out a crack in the wall that, according to him, “looked suspiciously like the headmaster’s profile.”

By the time they reached the main floor, Evangeline was laughing despite herself. "How much did you have to drink tonight, Sebastian?"

“Not enough,” he quipped, his grin broad and boyish as he dramatically swayed around a corner, narrowly missing the edge of a tapestry.

Evangeline shook her head, tightening her grip on his hand to steady him. "I beg to differ. You're walking like a newborn Mooncalf. You’re going to wake Mr. Moon at this rate.”

"Moon?" Sebastian scoffed, waving her concern away. "He's probably asleep, dreaming about confiscating contraband. Besides, I’m stealth incarnate.”

As if to prove his point, he attempted to tiptoe dramatically, his steps exaggeratedly light and utterly uncoordinated. The result was a clumsy shuffle that sent a small stack of forgotten library books tumbling off a bench.

“Very stealthy,” Evangeline deadpanned, stooping to gather the books. She shot him a pointed look. “You’re lucky Peeves isn’t around.”

“Peeves loves me,” Sebastian said confidently, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms in what he likely thought was a suave pose.

“I doubt that,” she deadpanned, shaking her head as she returned the books to their place. “And if he catches you like this, he’ll never let you live it down.”

Sebastian grinned, unfazed. “Good thing I’ve got you to keep me in line, then.”

“Someone has to,” she muttered.

As they descended toward the dungeons, the air grew cooler, the torches casting long, flickering shadows. Sebastian’s grip on her hand tightened, not out of necessity but comfort. Evangeline noticed and didn’t pull away.

“So,” he said after a beat, his voice slightly more serious, “are you mad I pulled you out of bed?”

“I wasn’t in bed yet,” she replied, glancing at him. “I was about to, though.”

“Then you’re welcome,” he smirked, tossing her a wink that would have been smoother if he hadn’t nearly tripped over a loose stone in the floor.

Evangeline caught his arm, steadying him before he could fall. “For Merlin’s sake, Sebastian,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re going to break your neck. Come on. The sooner we get to the dungeons, the sooner you can stop trying to outpace your own balance.”

Sebastian let out a dramatic sigh but followed her lead, the playful edge in his demeanor giving way to a quieter contentment. The Slytherin common room loomed closer with each step, the dungeon's familiar chill wrapping around them like an old cloak.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, “I really did leave the party for you.”

She glanced at him, her brows knitting together in curiosity. “Why?”

“Because,” he said simply, his gaze focused ahead. “It wasn’t the same without you.”

Evangeline’s heart gave a small, traitorous flutter, but she masked it with a teasing smile. “That’s the alcohol talking.”

“Maybe is loosens my lips,” he admitted, his lips quirking into a crooked grin. “But that doesn’t make it less true.”

They reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and Sebastian fumbled for the password, his memory momentarily failing him. Evangeline waited patiently, her arms crossed, until he finally blurted out the right phrase.

The door swung open, and Sebastian gestured grandly. “After you.”

Evangeline scoffed, crossing her arms more firmly as she raised an eyebrow. “You do realize I’m not actually allowed in there, right? Something about Gryffindors tarnishing the sacred sanctity of Slytherin’s cold, dark lair?”

Sebastian grinned, leaning against the doorway with an exaggerated air of confidence. “Sacred sanctity, you say? Nonsense. Consider yourself an honorary Slytherin for the evening.”

She hesitated, glancing toward the dimly lit common room beyond him. “And what happens if I get caught? I’d rather not end up scrubbing cauldrons for a week.”

Sebastian stepped closer, his grin softening into something that bordered on earnest. “You won’t. I’d never let that happen.”

With an exaggerated sigh, she stepped past him into the common room, the warmth of the fireplace immediately enveloping her. The room was as she’d imagined—grand, moody, and distinctly Slytherin. Green and silver accents adorned the dark leather furniture, and the high ceilings cast long shadows that danced with the flickering firelight.

Sebastian wobbled slightly as he followed her in, and she shot him a pointed look. “You’re going to trip over your own feet if you keep that up.”

“Nonsense,” he said breezily, though he did grab the edge of a nearby couch for balance. “I’m perfectly steady.”

“Sure you are,” she muttered, her eyes scanning the room. “Now go get those pajamas you were so desperate for so I can go back to bed.”

Sebastian straightened, a lopsided grin spreading across his face as he wagged a finger at her. “Ah, ah, ah. You can’t go back yet, Evie.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m pretty sure I can. You said you needed pajamas, and now you’re here. Mission accomplished.”

Sebastian shook his head, stepping toward her with a dramatic flair, as if her logic had wounded him deeply. “Getting my pajamas was only the first part of the plan. You agreed to humor me, remember? And the second part hasn’t even started yet.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Sebastian leaned against the arm of a nearby couch, his grin wide and unrepentant. “You agreed to follow me, and now you’re in it for the long haul.”

“Sebastian,” she said firmly, giving him her best no-nonsense look, “it’s late, and you’re clearly very drunk. Whatever grand scheme you’re cooking up can wait until morning.”

“Come on, Evie. You’ll like this, I promise.” he said, his tone light but with a trace of something softer underneath.

She studied him for a moment, noting the stubborn set of his jaw and the slight sway in his stance that betrayed just how much he’d had to drink.

Evangeline let out a resigned sigh, shaking her head. “Fine. But if this involves sneaking out of the castle or into the Restricted Section, you’re on your own.”

“Not this time,” he said, his grin softening into something almost boyish. “Now wait right here while I grab my things. Don’t move.”

She watched him disappear down one of the narrow hallways, the sound of his unsteady footsteps echoing softly as he went. With a shake of her head, Evangeline moved toward the fireplace, the warmth of the flames drawing her in. She couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of the situation.

“Honorary Slytherin,” she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes.

It wasn’t long before Sebastian reappeared, a crumpled bundle of clothes and a toothbrush clutched in one hand. He looked far too pleased with himself as he sauntered back into the room, holding the bundle aloft like a trophy.

“Ready?” he asked, his grin wide enough to rival the Cheshire Cat’s.

“Ready for what?” she asked, her arms crossed once more.

He stopped in front of her, swaying slightly but managing to hold her gaze. “The rest of the night, of course. Back to the Undercroft.”

Evangeline frowned. “Sebastian, I’m not walking across the entire castle again at this hour.”

“Yes, you are,” he said simply, his grin turning into a smirk. “Because if you don’t, you’ll miss the best part of the night.”

She hesitated, eyeing him warily. “And what exactly is the best part?”

Sebastian’s expression softened, his voice dropping just enough to make her pulse quicken. “Spending it with me.”

Evangeline groaned. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope," he shot back, his smirk triumphant. “Now come on, Sterling. Let’s go."

With a long-suffering sigh, she gestured toward the door. “Lead the way. But if you get us caught, you’re explaining it to Professor Weasley”

Sebastian laughed, the sound warm and unguarded as he took her hand once more. “Deal.”

They slipped out of the Slytherin common room together, the faint echo of their footsteps disappearing into the quiet of the dungeons.

Sebastian’s antics kept Evangeline both entertained and exasperated on the walk. He attempted to recount the highlights of the Quidditch match, though his details became increasingly muddled as he went on.

“And then Jameson—he’s the one who hit the Bludger, mind you—managed to knock—wait, no, it was Darian—anyway, the Ravenclaw Seeker didn’t stand a chance,” he rambled, his words slurring slightly.

“Yes, I did attend the match, you know,” Evangeline said dryly.

By the time they reached the Undercroft, Sebastian was leaning heavily against Evangeline, though whether it was from the alcohol or sheer theatrics, she couldn’t tell. With a bit of effort, she pushed open the familiar door, and they stepped inside, the soft glow of the enchanted fire casting warm light over the room.

Sebastian flopped onto the couch with a groan, tossing his pajamas onto the nearby table. “Home sweet home.”

"Yeah, yeah," Evangeline plopped down on the bed with a soft sigh, already tugging the blankets over her legs. She tilted her head to glance at Sebastian, who was still sprawled on the couch like he had no intention of moving.

“Are you planning to sleep in the bed, or are you just going to pass out right there in your Quidditch gear?” she teased, smirking at his sluggish response.

Sebastian groaned and pushed himself upright, stumbling slightly as he grabbed his pajamas from the table. “Patience, Evie. Greatness takes time.”

“Greatness?” She snorted, settling back against the pillows. “All I’m seeing is someone teetering on the edge of regrettable life choices.”

Sebastian stuck his tongue out at her like a petulant child before fumbling with the button on his trousers. Evangeline’s casual smirk evaporated as she realized what he was about to do.

“Sebastian Sallow!” she shrieked, sitting bolt upright and pointing to the changing screen at the far side of the Undercroft. “Behind the wall. Now.”

He paused mid-button, blinking at her with mock innocence. “What? It’s not—”

“Now!” she warned, her cheeks turning an alarming shade of pink.

Grumbling dramatically, Sebastian grabbed his pajamas and stumbled toward the changing wall. “Such prudishness,” he muttered loudly, though his words were more slurred than scathing. “It’s not like I’m completely—wait a minute.”

“What now?” Evangeline called, her exasperation bleeding through her tone.

Sebastian leaned around the edge of the wall, holding up the pajama bottoms with a sheepish grin. “Forgot the shirt.”

Evangeline groaned and stared up at the stone ceiling of the Undercroft. This was a new level of mortification. Sharing a bed with him had already become a delicate dance of pretending she didn’t notice things: the way his voice softened when they talked late into the night, the way his laugh came so easily when they were alone, and, most pressingly, the way his proximity made her heart race.

Now, she had to mentally prepare herself for a new challenge: Sebastian Sallow, shirtless and drunk, lying beside her.

Her mind betrayed her, flickering back to the only other time she’d seen him shirtless—when Lysander had cursed him on the Quidditch pitch last year. She’d found him in the aftermath, bleeding and refusing to go to the hospital wing. Evangeline had patched him up herself, and she could still remember the way his muscles tensed under her hands as she cleaned the wound, how he’d winced and tried to play it off like it didn’t hurt. He’d been so uncharacteristically shy then, keeping his eyes averted while she worked, mumbling about how he was fine and didn’t need the fuss.

But now? Now there was nothing dire about the situation—just the knowledge that Sebastian was currently stripping behind the wall and brushing his teeth, and that, in a matter of moments, he’d be crawling into bed beside her.

Evangeline squeezed her eyes shut, her heart hammering in her chest. For all his cockiness, Sebastian rarely flaunted himself in that way. In fact, it had always been surprising to Evangeline just how oddly modest he was around her.

But now? Now, apparently, drunken Sebastian had no qualms about shucking his shirt with her in the room. Fantastic.

The sound of fabric hitting the floor jolted her from her thoughts, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to stay calm. This is fine, she told herself. You’re friends. He’s drunk. This doesn’t mean anything.

But her resolve cracked the moment he sauntered out from behind the wall.

His hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and his grin was utterly infuriating.

“Well?” he asked, holding his arms out as if inviting her to critique his attire. “How do I look?”

Evangeline peeked through her fingers, the gesture doing little to block the sight of him. Her breath caught in her throat, betraying her. He was, indeed, shirtless, and it was a view she wasn’t prepared for.

He was taller than she usually noticed, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, his torso tapering to a narrow waist. The firelight played over his tanned skin, its warm glow casting shadows over the musculature of his chest and abdomen, though there was a softness to him that she could only assume was the result of his relentless sweet tooth.

Her eyes betrayed her further, flicking down to the freckles—oh, Merlin, the freckles—that dotted his upper torso like constellations against the tanned canvas of his skin. They were most concentrated on his shoulders and collarbones, but a few daring ones scattered lower. She wondered, absently, how many of them dotted his back, his arms, the skin she couldn’t yet see.

Her gaze—unbidden and entirely against her better judgment—drifted lower, to where his pajama bottoms hung daringly low on his hips, exposing the deep V of his lower abdomen and where a faint trail of dark hair began just below his navel, disappearing teasingly beneath the waistband of his pajamas.

It was maddening, this casual display of perfection, and Evangeline willed herself to stop looking, to stop thinking about how unfair it all was.

Sebastian tilted his head, his grin widening. “You’re staring,” he teased, his voice low and drawling in a way that set her nerves on edge.

She threw her pillow at him with a startled squeak. “I am not!

He caught the pillow with ease, his reflexes frustratingly intact despite his obvious inebriation. “Relax,” he said, holding the pillow to his chest as if that somehow counted as covering up. “It’s just skin. Everyone has it.”

“Yes, well, I’d prefer not to see yours,” she muttered, trying to sound composed but failing miserably. Her voice wavered, betraying her, and Sebastian caught it immediately.

He smirked, the kind of smirk that usually preceded him doing something reckless. “Oh, come on, Evie. It’s not like you’ve never seen me shirtless before.” He stepped closer to the bed, tossing the pillow back onto it as he loomed over her. “Remember last year? Quidditch pitch? Blood everywhere? You were very hands-on then.”

Evangeline’s jaw dropped, her mortification reaching new heights. “That was completely different, and you know it!” she hissed, yanking the blankets up to her chin as if they could shield her from the sheer audacity of him. “You were injured. I was trying to keep you from bleeding out, you prat!”

Sebastian chuckled, plopping down on his side of the bed without an ounce of shame. “Still. Surely I don't look that different?"

Evangeline hesitated. The truth was, he did look different. Sebastian had always been attractive—infuriatingly so, with those warm brown eyes that could either smolder or sparkle depending on his mood, and that grin, the one that made her feel both exasperated and weak-kneed. But now? Now, it was almost too much.

Somewhere between last year and now, he had grown up. His shoulders were broader, his frame more defined, with a softness around his edges that only added to his maddening appeal. He was no longer just the boy who teased her mercilessly; he was a man, one who didn’t seem to realize, or perhaps care about, the effect he had on her.

She risked another glance at him, and her heart sank when she saw him watching her with that insufferable smirk still playing on his lips. He leaned back slightly, his weight on his palms as he tilted his head at her, clearly enjoying her flustered state.

“What?” he asked, his tone almost teasingly innocent. “Cat got your tongue?”

Evangeline scowled. "No."

“Then stop dodging the question,” he countered, leaning forward slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Do I look different or not?”

She groaned, wishing she could sink into the mattress and disappear. “You look the same,” she lied.

Sebastian’s grin widened. “Hmm, I don’t think I believe you. You’re looking at me like I’ve got three heads.”

“You act like you do,” she shot back, trying to regain some control of the situation. “Now will you please go to sleep before I hex you?”

He laughed, stretching out with a contented sigh. “But Evie,” he pleaded, his voice softening just enough to send a shiver down her spine, "How will I sleep without hearing the answer?”

Evangeline froze, her heart lurching at his words. What was she supposed to say now? Should she tell the truth? That, yes, he looked different—that he looked better than ever, that something about him lately made her want to scream and blush all at once? That she could hardly be around him without feeling like her heart was trying to claw its way out of her chest?

No. Absolutely not.

She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to stay steady. “There’s nothing to answer,” she said, keeping her back turned to him. “You look the same as you always do—annoying.”

“Liar,” Sebastian drawled, his tone a mix of amusement and something else—something almost disappointed. "...Do I look worse or something? Is that why you won’t say?”

She turned her head slightly, her eyes darting toward him despite herself. He was lying back now, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting loosely against his chest. His brow was furrowed just enough to betray his unease, though he tried to mask it with a nonchalant expression. It didn’t fool her.

“No,” she said quickly, her voice softer now, almost gentle. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

His gaze flicked to her, and for once, he didn’t look amused. “Then why won't you answer?” he asked, his tone quieter than before.

Evangeline sighed, sitting up slightly so she could look at him properly. “Fine,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you really want to know... you don’t look the same. You’ve... grown up. Over the summer. Even last term. You just look... older now. In… a good way.”

Sebastian tilted his head, studying her in the dim light of the Undercroft. His expression shifted, softening into a kind of quiet thoughtfulness that made her heart stutter. “So do you."

Evangeline blinked, caught off guard. “What?"

“You’ve grown up,” he said, his voice low, deliberate.

Evangeline let out a shaky breath, her fingers brushing against her wand. The tension in the room was too much, pressing against her chest like a weight she couldn’t escape. She needed to break it before she said or did something she’d regret.

With a flick of her wrist, the room dimmed until only the enchanted fire remained, its warm glow flickering across the stone walls of the Undercroft. Shadows danced around them, softening the edges of Sebastian’s features but doing little to lessen the intensity of his gaze.

“We should get some sleep,” she said quickly, avoiding his eyes as she leaned back against the pillows. “It’s late, and I’m—well, I’m exhausted.”

Sebastian didn’t respond immediately, and the silence stretched between them, making her pulse race. She kept her eyes firmly on the ceiling, refusing to glance his way. She couldn’t handle it—not the way he looked at her, not the quiet sincerity in his voice, and definitely not the fact that her heart was still pounding in her chest like it was trying to escape.

She heard the faint rustle of fabric as he shifted, the sound far too loud in the otherwise quiet room. “You’re trying to avoid me,” he said finally, his tone soft but tinged with amusement. “You think turning out the lights is going to help?”

Evangeline groaned, dragging the blanket up to cover her face. “I’m trying to sleep, Sebastian. For once in your life, take a hint.”

But, of course, he didn’t. She heard the faint creak of the mattress as he sat up, the warmth of his voice cutting through the darkness like a blade. “You’re terrible at lying, you know.”

“Goodnight, Sebastian,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the blanket.

He laughed softly, the sound low and unguarded, and it sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Her cheeks burned, and she peeked out from under the blanket just enough to glare at him. “Firstly, you don't think I'm cute, you're just saying that because you're drunk. Second, I am not flustered.”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning lazily against his pillow, his grin only widening as he caught her glare. “Firstly,” he said, mimicking her tone with exaggerated precision, “you have no idea what I think. Drunk or not. And secondly, Evie, you’re absolutely flustered.”

“I am not,” she insisted, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.

“Oh, come on,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, teasing drawl that made her insides twist. “You’re practically glowing over there. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” she scoffed, throwing the blanket off her head completely to fix him with a proper glare. “I am not adorable. I’m... formidable.”

Sebastian laughed again, a rich, genuine sound that made her want to simultaneously melt and hex him into next week. “Oh, you’re definitely formidable,” he said, raising his hands as if to placate her. “But you can be both, you know.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then promptly shut it again, unsure how to counter that. The audacity of him.

"Oh shut up, Sebastian."

Sebastian smirked, his grin widening at her flustered silence. “I’ll take that as a win," he said, settling back against his pillow with an air of triumph.

“It’s not a win,” she snapped, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “It’s me choosing not to dignify your nonsense with a response.”

“Sounds like a win to me,” he drawled, his voice tinged with laughter.

Evangeline groaned, grabbing the edge of her blanket and yanking it back over her head. “I regret every decision that led to me being stuck in a room with you.”

“No, you don’t,” he countered smoothly. “You love this.”

She didn’t reply, willing herself to ignore him, to not let his words worm their way into her chest and make her heart do that stupid fluttering thing again.

The room fell quiet after that, save for the soft crackle of the fire. For a moment, she thought he might have finally fallen asleep, but then his voice cut through the silence, softer this time, almost hesitant.

“Evie.”

“What now?” she muttered, her voice muffled by the blanket.

He hesitated, and she could hear the faint creak of the mattress as he shifted again. “You really don’t know, do you?”

She frowned, lowering the blanket just enough to glance at him. “Don’t know what?”

He met her gaze, his expression suddenly serious. There was something in the way he was looking at her, too, like he was seeing right through her defenses and into the thoughts she desperately tried to keep hidden.

“Sebastian?” she prompted again, her voice quieter this time, unsure if she really wanted an answer. “Don’t know what?”

Sebastian blinked, like he’d just realized how long he’d been studying her. He exhaled slowly, his expression shifting back into something more guarded, more familiar. “Ignore me,” he said, shaking his head as he sank back onto his pillow. “I’m drunk.”

She blinked at him, momentarily stunned. “No, you can’t just do that! What do you mean?” she demanded, her heart still pounding in her chest.

“Nothing,” he muttered, turning his head away from her and closing his eyes. “Forget I said anything. Just... let's go to sleep.”

But Evangeline couldn’t let it go that easily. She sat up slightly, her hands clutching the blanket tightly as she stared at him. “Sebastian.”

“Goodnight, Evie,” he sang, his face turned toward the firelight to hide the faint flush on his cheeks.

She opened her mouth to argue, to press him further, but something in his tone stopped her. It wasn’t deflection, not entirely. It was something softer, something almost vulnerable.

With a frustrated sigh, she sank back against her pillow, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “Fine,” she muttered, though the tension in her voice was clear. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

Sebastian didn’t respond, his breathing steady and slow, though she doubted he’d already fallen asleep. And as the room fell into silence once more, she couldn’t stop herself from replaying the look in his eyes, the way he’d hesitated, the way he’d said, Ignore me, I’m drunk.

But she couldn’t ignore him. Not when the memory of his gaze lingered, making her chest ache with questions she wasn’t sure she was ready to ask.

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oldiesstationlover11607 · 3 months ago

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Surprise Concert - Black Cat!Josh Dun x Golden Retriever!Reader

Warnings: None - super fluffy

Word count: 1906

A/N: This was an idea I was experimenting with so enjoy ;) I do have a bishop!clancy x bandito reader fic coming soon too so keep an eye out for that! Thanks to 🩷✨ anon for requesting this idea bc they liked it so much.

Josh had been talking about the concert for weeks. It was supposed to be a surprise—he’d slipped up and told me about it during lunch one day when I noticed how unusually antsy he seemed. He was always quiet and brooding, a shadow drifting around in a sea of high school noise, but I could tell he was excited. So, when he blurted out something about “the best concert ever,” it caught me off guard.

“Okay, but what concert are we talking about?” I’d asked, leaning closer, my yellow sundress a stark contrast to the dark flannel he always wore. Josh’s eyes went wide, and he swore under his breath, pushing a strand of hair out of his face.

“Just... nothing,” he muttered, cheeks pink. “You’ll see.”

So when the big day came, I couldn’t contain my curiosity. “Are you sure you don’t wanna tell me who we’re seeing?” I asked, for probably the tenth time, as I jumped into his beat-up car. It was a clunky old thing with scratched black paint and a half-broken radio that only played CDs, which Josh seemed to think was charming.

“Not a chance,” he said, grinning in that lopsided way that made my stomach flip. “But you better buckle up. We’re gonna be late if I don’t break a few speed limits.” His voice was playful, teasing, like he knew something I didn’t—which, to be fair, was pretty accurate.

The drive was short, but the anticipation made every second feel like an hour. Josh’s music blared from the CD player—dark, heavy songs with lyrics that were almost too fast for me to catch. It wasn’t my usual kind of thing; I liked upbeat pop songs with catchy choruses, the kind of music that made you wanna roll the windows down and sing at the top of your lungs. But I didn’t mind. The excitement radiating off Josh was contagious, and I found myself tapping my foot along to the beat.

When we finally pulled into the venue’s parking lot, I got my first hint that this wasn’t going to be a typical concert. The crowd looked like they were auditioning for a Tim Burton movie—dark clothes, piercings, dyed hair, tattoos. The occasional splash of red or purple stood out against the sea of black. I tugged at the sleeves of my sunshine-yellow sweater and suddenly felt ridiculously out of place.

“Uh, Josh?” I asked, glancing around nervously. “I think I missed the dress code.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re fine,” he said, reaching out to tug playfully at my sleeve. “Besides, I like that you look like a highlighter in a sea of shadows.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Josh always had a way of making me feel better, even when I had no idea what I was getting into. I’d known him since we were kids—he’d always been the weird one, the quiet boy who hid behind oversized hoodies, while I was the one who’d drag him into games of tag or insist he come to my birthday parties. High school hadn’t changed him much; he just swapped his Pokémon T-shirts for band tees. I guess I hadn’t changed much either, still chasing after him, still dragging him out of his shell.

Josh laced his fingers with mine, and I could feel how clammy his palm was—nervous energy buzzing just under the surface. He pulled me through the throng of people, guiding me with an ease that made me think he’d been to a hundred of these concerts before.

I tried not to trip over my own feet as we pushed our way closer to the stage. “Okay, seriously,” I said, shouting a little over the rising chatter of the crowd. “Who are we here to see? This is kind of intense.”

Josh’s eyes practically glowed in the dim light. “You’ll see,” he said, his grin wider than I’d seen in a long time.

I was about to ask another question when the lights went out. The crowd roared, a deafening wave of sound that made my heart leap into my throat. My grip on Josh’s hand tightened, and I could feel him squeeze back, anchoring me in the darkness.

A single piano note cut through the noise, slow and haunting, and then the stage lights burst into life. The crowd surged forward, and I stumbled, nearly falling before Josh caught me. I barely had time to say thanks before the music hit me—a thundering wave of sound that pulsed in my chest, so loud I could feel it in my bones. And then the lead singer was there, strutting across the stage, his voice cutting through the chaos with a raw, desperate power that sent shivers down my spine.

“Who is that?” I shouted over the noise, my eyes wide as I stared at the wild-haired frontman with a voice that could shatter glass.

Josh’s eyes were bright, his lips moving in sync with the lyrics. “That’s Gerard!” he yelled back, almost drowned out by the screaming crowd. “He’s the lead singer—just listen!”

So I did. And it was... intense. The music was heavy, a mix of anger and sadness, but there was something beautiful about it too, something that tugged at my heart in a way I didn’t quite understand. The crowd knew every word, every beat, and they moved together like a single entity, like the music was in their blood. I found myself bouncing along with them, not even sure when I’d started. I just knew I didn’t want to stop.

Gerard’s voice was wild and commanding, pulling me along for the ride even though I didn’t know where we were going. There was something magnetic about him, the way he prowled the stage, hair falling over his eyes, voice raw with emotion. I felt my cheeks go hot, and I didn’t dare look at Josh, afraid he’d see the way my eyes were glued to the lead singer.

The set went on, each song blending into the next, the energy never once dropping. I lost track of time, lost in the music, in the lights, in the way Josh’s face lit up with every note. It was like seeing him come alive, his usual quietness replaced by a fierce intensity. It was... kind of amazing.

When the final song started—a song everyone around me seemed to know by heart—I felt a strange pang of sadness. I didn’t want it to end. The crowd’s voices rose as one, a chorus of defiance and hope, and for a moment, I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself, something I’d never even known existed.

When the last note faded and the stage lights went dark, I stood there, stunned, the echoes of the music still ringing in my ears. Josh turned to me, a question in his eyes, and I could only stare back, unable to find the words.

“Did you like it?” he asked, his voice hesitant, like he was afraid of what I might say.

I swallowed, my throat dry, and then I just blurted it out. “That was amazing!” I nearly shouted, throwing my arms around his neck. He stumbled back, laughing in shock as he hugged me tight. “Seriously, why didn’t you tell me it would be this cool?”

He pulled away just enough to look at me, his face split in the biggest grin I’d ever seen. “I told you! I knew you’d get it.”

“I think I love them,” I admitted breathlessly, my cheeks burning. “I mean, Gerard—his voice, it’s just...”

Josh’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as a large smirk spread across his face. “You think Gerard’s hot, don’t you?”

I tried to hide my blush, but there was no use. “Maybe,” I said, shoving him playfully. “Can you blame me? He’s, like–did you see him?”

Josh groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I knew this would happen. Just my luck—I introduce you to the greatest band of all time, and you get a crush on the lead singer.”

“Oh, come on,” I teased, nudging him with my elbow as we started walking out of the venue. “You have to admit, he’s got a certain... charm.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Josh muttered, but I could tell he wasn’t really mad. There was a lightness in his step that hadn’t been there before, and I couldn’t help but smile as we made our way through the buzzing crowd.

The parking lot was packed with kids still riding the high of the concert, talking and laughing and singing snatches of lyrics that were still stuck in my head. I couldn’t stop grinning as we walked back to Josh’s car, my ears ringing and my heart still racing.

“You seriously liked it?” Josh asked again, opening the passenger door for me.

“Are you kidding?” I said, sliding into the seat. “I loved it! I wanna know more—I wanna hear all their songs. Do you have their albums?”

He chuckled, starting the car. “I have all their albums,” he said proudly. “We can listen to them on the way home.”

As he popped a CD into the stereo and the opening chords of another song filled the car, I found myself leaning back in my seat, a warm glow spreading through my chest. Josh looked over at me, his face half-lit by the dim streetlights, and I felt a rush of affection for him, for the way he’d shared something so important to him with me, for the way he seemed to understand me in a way no one else did.

“Thank you,” I said softly, my voice barely audible over the music. “For bringing me here. I didn’t realize... I didn’t know I’d feel like this.”

Josh’s eyes softened, and he reached over to squeeze my hand, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of it. “You get it now,” he said quietly. “You understand what I’ve been talking about all this time.”

I nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah,” I said. “I really do.”

The drive home was quieter, both of us lost in the music, but there was a kind of comfortable silence between us that made my chest feel warm. I watched Josh out of the corner of my eye, the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel, the way his lips moved along with the lyrics. He looked content—more content than I’d ever seen him—and I realized that I liked this side of him. I liked seeing him happy.

“Hey,” I said suddenly, making him glance over at me. “Next time, will you take me to another one?”

His face lit up, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “Of course,” he said. “I wouldn’t wanna go with anyone else.”

I grinned back at him, feeling my heart skip a beat. “Good,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Next time,” I said, giving him a mischievous smile, “I’m dressing the part. No more happy-go-lucky outfits. I’m going full emo.”

He laughed, a real, genuine laugh that made my heart soar. “Deal,” he said. “But only if you let me help.”

“Deal,” I agreed, feeling a thrill of excitement at the thought.

And as we drove down the dark, empty streets, the music filling the space between us, I realized that this was the start of something new, something that felt like it had been waiting for me all along.

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