#half the choruses are missing

[cantquitu]

.

[star2fishmeg]

let’s talk about orgasm denial with luke, shall we? but it’s sub!luke 🤭

he’s sitting prettily on the couch with a blush on his cheeks, slightly helpless because of his sling and he’s trying really hard to keep his eyes open, but you’re sitting between his legs leaving a trail of kisses down his happy trail, nipping at his inner thigh and it feels too good. he whines a little please after you stopped sucking and he’s begging you to make him cum but he looks so pretty with rosy cheeks and his curls stuck to his forehead. you just love seeing him crumble under your touch.

bonus points for all the love bites you left around his v line because that makes my brain go 😵‍💫😵‍💫

-☝️ anon (using this finger as a sign off will always make me giggle)

Omg hey ☝️, missed you queen AND YES WE CAN TALK SUB LUKE!! LOVE BIG SUBBY MEN <33 LOVE V-LINES MARKS TOO like yes show em off king <3

Ugh, you never fail to make my stomach flutter 😭

Sub!Luke who's gripping the back of the sofa with every kiss that tickles his skin, tingling stirring in his stomach as his chest rises and dips heavily from anticipation. His knuckles are white when your teeth nip and suck down along his v-line, your fingers peeling down the waistband of his boxers gently, asking him to cooperate and lift his hips up just a tad. He's panting when you reach the top of his pubic hair, eyes peering through your lashes with a sultry graze and a little smile on your lips and he wishes he'd never looked down because he can't help but let a pathetic whimper slip through his lips.

Sub!Luke whose groans are guttural, raw from the pits of his throat when you give him languid strokes, your hand appearing so small around his cock that it foments delirium in his body that hits straight to the head and he tilts it back into the sofa cushions, groaning out gruff profanities. Your tongue licks over his inner thigh, watching him from the corner of your eye before biting down into the flesh and sucking harshly, the way his voice breaks while whining out your name only makes your underwear wetter, your moans vibrating against his skin. The combination of your hand and your mouth building up tension in his stomach, abs clenching.

Sub!Luke who's whimpering desperately out into the space of the living room, his choruses of 'so close' and 'fuck' tumbling off his tongue when you hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head with lecherous haste on his cock with your tongue flat on the underside caressing every vein, nails burrowing crescents into his solid thighs. His cheeks burn pink and the coil that tightens in his stomach comes pleasurably close to snapping. He's got his hands over his face, wishing you'd let him touch you as you bring him so close to his release, electricity sparking through him and that fuzzy feeling in his lower stomach warm and he's lulling his head back again ready for you to drink him dry like you usually do.

Sub!Luke who pushes his hair off his forehead, rasping out to you about how he's going to cum, that coil seconds away from loosening only to watch his cock slowly slide from your lips, a coy smile on your face as you bore a half-lidded gaze into his eyes, mocking the way he pouts playfully, “Such a good boy.” He whines out a little 'please', but you chime his nickname and watch his eyebrows knit as he struggles to bear the unsated aching in his cock, your fingers so gentle over his skin, circling over his tip just to draw those blubbering whimpers out, only re-ignites the wildfires within him and arouses him all over again.

[rosetta-j-stone]

...so anyway this has basically happened again X D

Oh look it's the unsurprising follow-up to this post:

...why am I like this

[ynbabe]

Fake texts au- pt.10 bffs with the rookies+ The Hangover III

I can't believe we're on part 10 already 😭😭😭

| Masterlist |

"How could I? I didn't have my phone?" the girl asked slightly panicked,.

"That's because you had mine," Lando spoke up, tapping on his phone, "You logged into your account from mine," he said showing it to the girl.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP ME?" She yelled.

"BECAUSE YOU GUYS KEPT RUNNING ONTO THE FUCKING ROAD AND LOGAN AND ARTHUR COSPLAYED SPIDER-MAN" He yelled back.

"Okay, okay," Max put his hands up to calm the two down, sometimes they were so similar he'd want to ask if Lando had a twin separated at birth, "Lando, what did she post?"

"oh oooh, this going to be fun," the boy said, switching to the girl's profile.

its_y/n_love

liked by 21,023 users

Tagged: @/arthur_leclerc @/logansargeant @/oscarpiastri

its_y/n_love me with my Pookie bears everyone say thank you Oscar for paying the Hospital bills 😍

view all 10,874 comments

usernamei SHES GIVINGGG

username she ATE

username they're her pookie bears 😭 she's so unserious I unironically stan her

username a grown woman calling grown men pookie bears 😒 username fr like oscar had to pay for HER hospital bills username he literally payed for Arthurs too but yall ain't gon say none abt that

its_y/n_love

liked by 501,023 users

Tagged: @/arthur_leclerc @/logansargeant @/oscarpiastri @/landonorris

its_y/n_love LANDOOOOOOOOO why he always with his boy tho 🤨

view all 20,874 comments

username omg she's literally living my dream 😫

username fr god i've seen what you've done for others

username omg she's freeloading off him now too?

username give it up she literally just their friend username and even if she wasn’t why would yall treat her differently than any other wag? username look at her man she's literally using them for fame and money

"Well, that wasn't as bad," y/n shrugged.

"That's cause you didn't have your camera roll," Logan snapped back, finally feeling a little more human, the hangover easing down.

"Look who's talking," the Aussie came to y/n's defence, "You're lucky you didn't have YOUR phone," Oscar called out, making the American's face turn red.

"Damnnn Oscar!" The girl praised, colour returning to his face, all were slowly returning to normal, even Arthur had found his way back to the table. Seeing this, the two older men Max and Charles ordered for the table, while Lando, went through more of Y/n's Instagram with the group.

"Honestly, the response isn't that bad, and our PR officers won't murder us, sooo we're good," he said, smiling and logging out of her Instagram account.

"Oh my god," The Monganeseque boy spoke up after being missing for almost half an hour, " I don't think we ate last night," he said shoving the food in his mouth.

The older men expected one of the other three to corroborate the boy's words but they just witnessed four twenty-somethings guzzling down food and large glasses of OJ, lifting plates to slide food into their mouths, letting runny egg yolks and bacon grease getting over their face and hands.

"Fucking hell," Max snarled, "it's like watching animal planet or something,"

"It's disgusting is what it is," Charles agreed, "MERDE ARTHUR, MAMAN RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS!" He yelled at his brother who was currently dipping a rolled up pancake in orange juice.

"Oh mate that's fucking disgusting," Y/n scoffed but then followed suit.

"Both of you are insane," Logan cried out, his accent thick, but failed to notice his own disgusting plate, dipping his bacon in maple syrup.

"ugh, there is something mentally deficient with all of you," Oscar frowned.

"Big words for someone mixing coffee into their oj," Lando cringed, taking a photo of the four and their disgusting eating habits.

"I- I can't look at this, I'm leaving," Charles gave up, holding up his hands in surrender, "I have a meeting at Ferrari anyways,"

"Bye, Charles!" the table chorused.

"Oh shit, it's 11am already?" Max called, looking at his watch, "I've got debrief at noon, see you next race, yeah Y/n?" He patted the girl's shoulder as he left.

"Never, again, ever." She yelled out, behind the man, making him laugh.

"Wait really?" The American looked over, bacon in hand.

"Nah, but like I've got uni and stuff and I've been going Arthurs races as well so, I'll probably be back by Britain or Netherlands," she explained.

"Oh yeah I forgot you still go to uni," Lando said.

"Not all of are millionaires cause of our fast vroom vroom cars," she spit back.

"yeah, yeah, " he waved off, "Oscar, Zak's told me to babysit you till our flight tomorrow so you don't do something or someone," he wriggled his brows, smirking at his teammate, making him roll his eyes, "you regret, so let's go and leave that disgusting abomination here," he said pointing to the coffee-orange juice.

"Guy's I don't know about y'all but I'm going go and pass out in the room till next year," The girl said, pushing away from the table.

"Same," The two boys followed.

oooooh this was ✨✨✨ but next we have the summer break chapter 🤭

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com

[loverangels]

stolen goods

pairings: ares!reader x luke castellan

synopsis: luke is a sentimental thief. too bad you also love your belongings. and his.

warnings: not proofread! Don't really like this but I wanted to post something for you guys sooo I hope it's okay! :)

I am not a thief. Is what Luke castellan swears to himself under his breath and in his mind chorusing these words like a religious mantra.

I am not a thief. I am not a thief. I am not a thief.

But how many times could he repeat it before he believed it?

Yes he was Hermes son but only by blood and that didn't mean anything. Right.?

Good intentions. That was the only thing he he reassured himself with as his nimble fingers picked another of your possessions.

A coin, a wrapper, a hair tie,- god it could be a dirty napkin and he'd take it.

It's a keepsake. A souvenir. A memoir

Something anything to remember you by.

And it wasn't like you knew.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Youstomp around your cabin fighting the urge to rip your hair out. You had been searching your room the whole morning in an attempt to find your favourite necklace with no success. It wasnt even as though you'd only searched your room even going to the extent to sneaking into your siblings room. Again no success.

By now your hands were fisted into balls as you travelled around the whole cabin asking your siblings if they'd seen your necklace.

'Clarisse!' you exclaim with your arms crossed face frowning impatient as you waited for your sister to arrive.

Gracefully with time, after a thousand fucking years your sister had arrived her eyebrows pulled up expectantly.

'yes?' she asked slow and tentatively.

'do you have my things ' you ask rushed and impatient

Clarisse face pulls into an angry glare offended you'd ask such a question.

'No'

You huff 'are you sure?'

'im not a thief but your boyfriend sure is go ask him' clarrise grunts before stomping away.

You fight the flutter in your heart at the thought ,'hes not my boyfriend!' you exclaim after her.

With your hands on your hips, you almost threatened to start crying.

Where was all your things going?

It couldn't possibly be luk-

Could it?

You bite your lip as you mull the thought before brushing the thought away. It couldn't be him-

You'd try anyways. You were desperate.

Leaving the cabin you search around camp for a while before being tipped that Luke was training. Finding him with his sword training with that awfully beaten up dummy you paused for a moment.

God he was so fucking pretty done.

You watch as his biceps clench as he swings his sword and the way his shirt lifts up slightly yes enough to get that delicious view of them gorgeous-

You snap yourself out of whatever kind of daze that was and call his name out watching how he stops immediately and turns around almost like a dog with his ears perked a grin slowly spreading on his face.

Stupid beautiful boy.

He drops his sword as you make your way to him, his hands instantly on your hips pulling you flushed up against him as he looks down at you tucking a strand behind your hair.

'yes sweetheart?' he asks. His voice so so soo sweet.

You mentally curse yourself as you stay at a lost for words before finally regaining your state of mind.

'do you know where my things are?' you ask abruptly watching his face with your makeshift eyes.

He leans his head onto your shoulder trailing his lips until they hover over your ear.

'and why would you think that hm?' he asks smirking to himself.

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow 'because nearly half of my things are missing and now that I think about it they always seem to disappear after we're together'

'smart girl' he hums pulling his face back from your ear as he grins down at you, his thumbs tracing mindless patterns on your hips.

'im waiting for them back castellan' you state firmly.

His grin drops as he groans throwing his head back 'oh come on! Let a man have at least something of his girl'

'something yes not half of my possesions' you tease.

Luke raises an eyebrow 'you're saying that in my shirt.' he deadpans before his eyes flickering down.

'and- hey wait aren't those my sweatpants?' he asks 'i was looking everywhere for those!' he exclaims

You give him a sheepish smile 'maybe you can have some of my things'

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Oh? Crewel-sensei! Are you actually joining us in class today? - Kalim, beaming

Zzzzz- h-huh? Did I miss... Trein-sensei's class...? - Silver, sleepy

If he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.

Crewel warily surveyed the classroom. Each group of students had been presented with a cage full of mice. The assignment for the day: to command the mice to execute a trick of one's choosing. They scampered around on their tiny feet, clawing at their confinement and chorusing in soft squeaks.

A few brave students had already taken to freeing the mice, to varying degrees of success. Some rodents had escaped and now skittered across the floors while being chased down. Others, aggravated, had clawed or bitten their students, sending them to the nurse’s office.

Class 2-A may as well be an unkept dog kennel, Crewel grumbled to himself.

“I’m participating today to brush up on Animal Languages,” he explained bluntly. “Pardon the intrusion. Please do not let my presence distract you from your learning.”

“Hahah, of course not! Make yourself home, cuz my classroom is your classroom!” Kalim chirped. “Since we’re in the same group, let’s do our best to help each other out.”

“Agreed.” Silver nodded. “We’re honored to be working with you, Crewel-sensei.”

They’re good boys—but let’s see whether their technical abilities are on par with their kind-heartedness.

"Lead the charge. I will stand by and support your vision.”

“Let’s have the mice dress up and have a parade!” Kalim immediately suggested. His entire face lit up with determination. “Maybe some of them could be horses pulling a little toy carriage, and other mice could ride the carriage.”

“That’s far too complex for your level of skill!” Crewel pointed out. “Start simpler. Instructing them to do a single thing is enough to fulfill the requirements. For dogs… ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ are common first commands. Extrapolate that thinking to mice. The vocabulary should also be within your reach.”

There was a long pause. Then Silver spoke up.

“So… we could ask them to sit or to stay?”

“Do not so blatantly superimpose the orders for dogs onto a different animal!” Crewel snapped. “Are you still half asleep?!”

“He might be! Hey, Silver.” Kalim nudged his classmate (whose head was beginning to loll) on the arm. The knight startled—but his eyelids still fluttered, threatening to shut. “Stick with us! We need you awake for this, buddy.”

“Ngh… I’m sorry, I’m trying… I’m trying so hard, but… I don’t think I can… hold… it off…………….. Zzzzz…”

Silver drifted off, slouching forward in his seat. Kalim grasped onto his shoulders, keeping him upright.

“Wh-Whoa…! Don’t worry, Silver! I’ve gotcha!!”

Crewel facepalmed. “… This is quickly devolving into a disaster.”

"I'll say!" Kalim agreed. "How's Silver going to nap well without a pillow and a blanket? A desk and chair are really uncomfortable to sleep on."

"That's what you're concerned about?"

"Hmm? Yeah. Did you mean something else, sensei?"

"You'll be receiving a zero on this assignment from old Trein if you don't come up with something," Crewel lectured him as he removed the lid from their box of mice. "Find a way to wake Silver up this instant!"

"Aaah, what should I do...? I feel bad waking him up when he's having a good dream... Are you sure we can't just make Silver as comfortable as we can?"

"YES, I AM SURE."

As Crewel and Kalim clashed, the mice were frenzied. They had collected in one corner of the box in one massive wriggling heap, spilling out onto the counter like liquid when Crewel tipped the container over. They darted in front of Silver in frantic rows, then compressed their small, furry bodies together, forming something resembling a pillow.

"What the..."

"Oh!" Kalim brightened with realization. "Did you guys want to help out? That's so nice of you!"

He was met with a sea of excitable squeaking.

"Gahahah! I don't get it, but thanks a ton! Silver appreciates it too. I'll lay him down now, okay?"

Crewel watched, jaw hanging open, as Kalim gently placed Silver upon the bed of lab rodents. It was like a scene right out of a fairy tale. Kalim, the prince. Silver, the princess. And the mice? Their animal companions that saved the day.

Footsteps approached from behind.

"Asim, how does your group fare?" Trein inquired. "I hope you were not too heavily relying on Crewel-sensei's expertise to get by."

"No, sir! We're just making sure Silver gets proper rest in." Kalim gestured to his snoozing peer. "See?"

Trein took note of the pillow of mice, his brows creasing in confusion. "... Well, it's certainly an unconventional 'trick' you've shown me, but I suppose I will allow it. It's a creative solution for the task."

"Wait, really? Cool, thanks!!'

Crewel blinked.

Just what am I looking at here? Did these two just pass by failing to use any of the course's teachings in the assignment?!

"... Unbelievable." He shook his head in disbelief.

These pups are truly something else.

[unholyverse]

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

[marlynnofmany]

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.)

[sincerely-anascot]

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.

[puppiesandnightlock]

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?

[solitary-cutie]

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…

[cloama]

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

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

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

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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.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

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[ryan-the-dark]

Chapter 6: Beaver Hollow (with more people)

"We all need to have a little chat," Arthur declared as he came to a stop.

"Black Lung. You're back. Hooray," Micah said sarcastically with a roll of the eyes.

Arthur ignored him as he dismounted and strode over to Dutch.

"I saw Agent Milton. Abigail shot him. She's okay. Not that you care about that."

Arthur casted a look of contempt around camp.

"You rats. All of you. Seems old Micah was pretty close with Milton."

Micah stepped up a few steps.

"What the hell are you talking about, cowpoke?"

"You talked," Arthur stated simply.

"That's a Goddamn lie."

"Dutch…"

"Dutch!" Micah repeated, "think of the future."

"Milton told me," Arthur said.

"And you believe him, Black Lung?! You believe him?"

"It all makes sense now," Arthur growled.

"No… it damn well doesn't," Micah said quietly, his hands gradually reachin' down to his twin holsters.

Before Micah could draw first, Arthur had his revolver up and trained on him. Cleet and Joe raised their guns at Arthur. Bill slowly began to raise his rifle as well. Lenny and Kieran had their cattleman revolvers up as well.

"Dutch, think!" Arthur implored.

"Dutch… beeeee practical now," Micah stated.

A new voice joined the calls.

"Dutch!"

Arthur looked over to see John staggerin' into the camp.

"John?!" Sean and Bill chorused, equally bewildered.

"You left me-you left me to die!" John accused Dutch.

Dutch, who looked as stunned as everyone else, approached slowly, arms outstretched. An act, if Arthur ever saw one.

"My boy, I didn't have a choice. John, I didn't-"

"You…"

"I didn't have a choice."

"You left me!" John repeated.

Dutch's face scrunched up in disgust, seemin' to realize he lost both of his "sons".

There was a moment of stunned silence at this revelation.

"All of you, you pick your side now. Because this is over," Arthur said with a slight solemnness in his tone but more so determination.

He cast a disgusted glance over at Dutch.

"All them years, Dutch. For this snake?"

"Oh, be quiet cowpoke," Micah started with his usual humorless chuckle, "be quiet. You live in the clouds."

"No. You be quiet, Mister Bell. And put down your gun."

Miss Grimshaw joined Arthur's side, shotgun at her hip and leveled at Micah.

The standoff was interrupted by Javier running up to the group.

"There's Pinkertons coming, fast!" he warned.

This distraction caused Miss Grimshaw to look at his direction. Micah fired, a single shot hittin' her in the abdomen.

She cried and collapsed onto her side, clutchin' her wounded flesh and cryin' out in agony.

Arthur briefly glanced at her before starin' at Dutch, implorin' his old father figure to do somethin'. Say somethin'!

"Now!" Dutch shouted, aimin' his revolvers.

"Who amongst you is with me, and who is betrayin' me?" Dutch inquired, walkin' out into the center of the standoff, guns trained on both sides.

Lenny approached him, "Dutch?! What are you doin'?! Micah has been a rat from day I tell you! You're trusting someone you've known for 6 months over a man you've known over twenty years?! I tell ya Micah has been causin' problems since day one! Arthur's tellin' the truth! Hosea must be turnin' in his grave if he saw what you were doin'!"

The mention of Hosea infuriated Dutch. He turned his revolvers on both Arthur and Lenny. Both men aimed their guns at him. All the while Sean and Kieran looked on with shock. The latter recovered quickly and joined Arthur's side.

John slowly moved over to Arthur's side, keepin' an eye on them.

"Bill, Javier, Sean! Think! Think for yourselves!" Arthur shouted.

Bill hesitated for half a second before he'd joined Dutch, and after a moment of reluctance, Javier followed. Cleet and Joe stood behind Micah. Sean drew his revolvers, not takin' any side yet, standin' in the middle.

"What's happening to ya?! All of ya?! We are in this together! And now, ya are aiming guns at each other! Put your guns down!"

Javier seemed to agree, aimin' his gun in the air.

"Sean, Micah's the rat!" Arthur insisted. "You know what he's been like! For all of these years! Always causin' fights! You hate killin'! If you follow Micah, there will be more blood on your hands!"

"Arthur, I'm sure Dutch woulda known if Micah was the rat! A great man, he is!" He shouted, then turned to Dutch. "And Dutch, Arthur's been in the gang for 20 years! He wouldn't just betray us like this! You are all straight barrels of laughs! Talk it out!" He shouted, though there was a moment of doubt.

"You're either with me or against me, Mr. MacGuire," Dutch said coldly.

Arthur stated, "You don't have to stay here, Sean. Just leave. Run off with Karen. Get your woman and get out of here! Don't get dragged in the middle of all of this."

Sean's eyes flickered. "Dutch, come on! Ya knew each other for twenty years! Raised these boys! Greatest bonds you all share! Ya ain't supposed to be enemy!" The Irish actually close to tears.

"I always knew you were the type who would betray me like Arthur," Dutch stated darkly.

"Come on, Sean," Arthur stated softly. "Dutch's no longer the man who you know! He changed! Hosea saw this!"

Sean fell back to Arthur's left side, gun aimed in the air, still on the fence about the whole thing. Javier slowly lowered his gun to John's direction, and Sean, gun tremblin' in his own hand, slowly lowered it to the direction of Javier. Kieran currently had his sights on Bill, while Lenny aimed at Micah. The cold barrels of Dutch's revolvers were trained at Arthur and vice versa.

"He's lyin'. He's lyin'!" Micah accused.

"Put your guns down!" A voice shouted from the distance.

And a shot went off.

People think Sean would have sided with Arthur without hesitation. I disagree. He was quick to defend Dutch about Blackwater, and yeah Arthur agreed with him, I think it would require some pushing as he would not want to take a side. The problem is if Javier died before Chapter 6, people would be saying that he would have sided with Arthur without hesitation.

I can't see ANY reality where Lenny sides with Dutch and Micah in Beavor Hollow. The man has been questioning Dutch for a long time. If Sean is a younger version of Arthur, Lenny is a younger version of John. Both are young, but Lenny and Dutch have been disagreeing with each other for a long time. Sean would have the "let's save Dutch" mentality afterwards.

I was going to include Hosea but I think he would be at the head of the draw instead of Arthur so I decided to have him still die.

Kieran saw through Dutch since day one.

[mysteroads]

Excerpt from All Fun and Games

“Don't stay up late!” Shouta warned loudly. “It's a school night.”

The League paused at the stairs and turned, all of them with expressions innocent as angels and honest as politicians. 

“Yes Eraserdaddy!” the whole group chorused— with the exception of the three kids, Kurogiri, and Shigaraki. Even Midoriya was in on it, obviously torn between hilarity and terror as he stuttered on the last two syllables.

Shouta flushed as the whole room erupted into giggles and whispered versions of: "I can't believe they did it!", turning to find half the class was filming. Apparently, he was the victim of a conspiracy. He eyed them balefully, thinking dark thoughts about pop quizzes and revenge.

Meanwhile, Toga threw her arms around Kurogiri, assuring him loudly that he was still the League's “shadow dad” and not to be jealous. The ghostly man sighed, patting her on the head, but didn’t look displeased. 

Spinner socked Shigaraki in the arm that wasn't holding Kana. “You were supposed to say it too!” he scolded. “You chicken!”

Shigaraki stepped out of range with a sneer. “I don’t need or want another father figure, thanks, and I'm not about to call Aizawa daddy in public.” He paused, then hummed thoughtfully. “Could be negotiated for in private, though.”

Dead silence.

In that silence, Shigaraki took Aisho's hand again and led her to the stairs. “Now then, since I missed this afternoon's debriefing, why don't you tell me what Kurogiri taught you in preschool today?”

Aisho bounced onto her toes with excitement, holding tight to his hand as they maneuvered up the steps. “Oh! Today, Eri and Hōō started learning how to sound out big words! And Kana and I learned more about shapes!”

“Shapes, huh? What's your favorite? I've always liked triangles best. Sharp angles. Good for stabbing.”

Their voices faded, leaving the common area to its awkward silence. Silence broken by a high pitched, wheezing squeak, like a dying balloon about to give up the ghost. All eyes turned to Dabi, who was bent over, hands braced on his knees, the undamaged part of his face bright red as he fought for air. Magne thumped him between the shoulder blades, which was enough to let him suck in a desperate breath and start cackling.

That set off the rest of the League, except for Kurogiri, who looked instead like he was going through all five stages of grief at once. 

Hōō, secure in Hawk's arms, looked around and, with the unerring ability of a child to ask the questions adults dread most, asked, “Does Mr. Shiggy want to call Mr. Zawa daddy? ‘Cause Mr. Zawa is Aisha and Kana’s daddy, not Mr. Shiggy’s.”

The League howled.

Dabi went straight to the floor, followed by Spinner. Toga was practically dancing as she squealed, “Oh my gosh! I’ve never ever ever heard Tomu-chan flirt before! He goes right for the kill!”

This time the students couldn't keep quiet. 

Within seconds, the entire Bakusquad was curled in various positions on and off the furniture, clutching their middles, tears streaming down their faces as they laughed and laughed. Bakugo had turned his back, but Shouta could see his face reflected in a window: his eyes and cheeks were bulging in an effort not to laugh. Uraraka had choked on her own spit and was torn between coughing and laughing; Momo’s blush had spread down her neck like a sunburn; and Asui had covered her face, shoulders shaking. Todoroki seemed completely lost. Ida, scandalized, was waving his arm at everyone, trying to get them to “Settle down, now! This is obviously an adult matter! It’s almost curfew! We should all go to bed!”

Shouta’s attention, however, was on Shinso. His son was laser-focused on his phone, Eri peering intently over his shoulder. 

“Shinso,” he growled.

Hitoshi looked up, lazy purple eyes wide in an attempt at innocence. “Yeah, Dad?”

“You had better not be sending that video to Hizashi or Nem, or I swear, I’ll hang you upside down from a tree for the rest of the night.”

“I’m definitely not doing that,” Hitoshi promised.

Eri frowned. “But… you’re on the family chat,” she protested.

Hitoshi cleared his throat. “What I meant was: I may have already done that.”

Right on cue, Shouta’s phone began to buzz with incoming messages. He’d give it fifteen minutes before the entire UA staff saw the video in all its horror.

Face burning, he unwound his capture scarf and activated his quirk. He would not suffer alone. 

The students and former villains who could still move scattered, heartlessly abandoning their incapacitated comrades to face the wrath of an embarrassed Eraserhead.

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Eofringillirostrum vs Heliothraupis

Factfiles:

Eofringillirostrum boudreauxi, E. parvulum 

Artwork by @otussketching, written by @zygodactylus

Name Meaning: Dawn Finch-Beak (Boudreaux’s or Small) 

Time: 54 to 48 million years ago, in the Ypresian of the Eocene 

Location: Sandwich Beds, Fossil Butte Member, Green River Formation, Wyoming; and the Messel Formation near Darmstadt, Germany 

Today, over half of the birds known in the world are passerines, or “perching birds”. Unfortunately, these birds on average are small and delicate, leading to their not having the most robust fossil record compared to other birds. However, the fossils of passerines we do have tell us an interesting story about their evolution. Eofringillirostrum, despite being a very early member of the total-passeriform group (ie, it isn’t a true passerine, but close), shows how many of the traits we see in modern representatives occurred fairly early on in their evolution. Eofringillirostrum had a finch-like beak, similar to living species, that would have been helpful in eating small hard seeds - a niche not easily exploited. While we often think of birds as “seed-eaters”, this is not common and only exploitable by certain species - and, apparently, some early passerine relatives like Eofringillirostrum. This indicates that different early relatives of passerines were already doing very similar ecological jobs to their living relatives, even while many other bird types were exploiting passerine-like niches (such as the many types of stem-mouse birds that lived at the time). Both the Messel Pit and the Fossil Butte environments were tropical forests, emerging right after the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum; both were associated with fossil lakes, which allowed for rapid preservation of a variety of early animals that show how “modern” life first diversified in the Paleogene period. As such, Eofringillirostrum just has too many neighbors to list - including so many kinds of birds its a little overwhelming. Eofringillirostrum, in this environment, would have been one of many different species of birds, and weirdly modern looking among them! 

Heliothraupis oneilli 

Photograph by John C. Mittermeier, written by @zygodactylus 

Name Meaning: O’Neill’s Tanager of the Sun God Inti 

Time: Unknown to the present, Holocene, Quaternary 

Location: Western Bolivia and Southern Peru, South America  Rarely do we get to talk about a newly discovered living species of bird, but this is one of those excellent times! This bird, a bright yellow tanager with a distinctive black stripe across its eye, was found in the Neotropics - specifically in the Yungas region. Given that Latin America has the largest number of bird species in the world, it makes a certain amount of sense that we may have missed some! First spotted in the nineties, it was properly identified and described over the course of the 2010s. The distinctive appearance of this tanager lead to it being nicknamed the “Kill Bill Tanager”, in reference to its similarity to Uma Thurman’s yellow jumpsuit outfit. Distinct in appearance and population from other tanagers, it was deemed not only a separate species, but an entirely separate genus. It is migratory, breeding in the northern Machariapo Valley and going down to the eastern Andes for the nonbreeding season. It lives in deciduous forests, and breeds in bamboo grasses. It is a loud and vocal bird, making distinctive songs and choruses that happen long after the dawn chorus of most other birds. As it lives in a fairly isolated region of these countries, its habitat is not particularly threatened at this time.

DMM Round One Masterpost