#so yeah those two got replaced lol-

[supersecretnerd]

Another Video of the new Octonauts characters

[anadorablekiwi]

With Aria having moved out now, i can finally put my switch on the entertainment center out for display 🥰

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

if it makes you feel better, a mature student on my course (history) used chatgpt to write an essay (on a real historical event) and handed it in (to a history professor who specialises in the real historical event) and chatgpt got the event entirely wrong. the student went to every lecture and seminar. i don't really know what the thought process was. they showed me their exact work process though (closed wikipedia next to me, put the essay q into chatgpt, and handed it in).

yay university!

Yeah, the very first student I ever caught doing this was last year. He was supposed to write a management plan for a site of his choosing, and went for the site of the old Dunvant Brickworks, now a flourishing reclaimed nature reserve with a brick dust problem.

And his Site Background section was entirely made up. Just fully fictionalised. It claimed there was now a museum and visitor centre onsite (there is not), that the brickworks were named after the family that founded them (they were named after the nearby village which comes from the Welsh Dwfn + Nant), and that the site has won awards for conservation (it has not) and now runs classes on heritage brickmaking (it does not.) Oh, and that the original brickworks had pioneered a brand new brickmaking techniques and was known during the Industrial Revolution for it's progressive workers' rights. Lol.

Anyway the first marker used to be a taxi driver in Swansea, and went "Hang on, there's no museum and visitor's centre -" and then passed it to me. Three hours later, we had proven that six of the fifteen references (already, far too few references for a MASTERS STUDENT) were fake. Two of those fake ones were then heavily used throughout the whole piece to prove everything from the history of the site (lies) to the hydrologic grid (fake) and the presence of signal crayfish in the streams (no).

It was, as they say, a shit show. And again, before I got involved and hit the ChatGPT alarm, the original second marker had looked it over and failed it - not because she knew it was AI, but because it was an utterly shit piece of work.

(That particularly story ended, btw, with that student being given leniency on mental health grounds, so he was allowed to try to resubmit with a new attempt. He was advised to return to the site, reassess it properly, then write up a new piece.

The day before his new submission date, his study support called me and asked for a meeting between the three of us, because the study support is from an IT background and so didn't have the subject knowledge to support him. We had a three way Teams call. During that call, me and the study support - hereafter referred to as Gareth to spare me typing that - both had microphones on, cameras on, and were freely talking. Student had his camera and microphone off.

First question from Gareth: "So, we have the site's real management plan, but it's 20 years out of date. Is this going to be a problem?"

Me: "No, not at all. In the industry, management plans are often out of date. Just factor that into yours - if it was written 20 years ago, you'll probably need to update the surveys to re-establish the current baseline, so what are you going to say needs to be surveyed and when. Does that make sense, Student?"

And there was, I shit you not, a SEVEN SECOND PAUSE, and then he unmuted himself and went "Sorry, what was that? I was sending a text."

And that happened a further three times over the course of that 40-minute meeting. A meeting he had requested the eve of his second chance because he still hadn't done it. A meeting he visibly did not think he had to listen in, or participate in, and thought he could get Gareth to listen to instead.

And then he submitted the new piece, and the only changes were:

He had entirely removed the site background section. It had not been replaced.

He had added in approximately twelve new in-text citations, none of which he'd added to the reference list for us to actually trace.

Which meant he was still heavily relying on the two fake references, and elsewhere in the piece, still had a paragraph that mentioned the museum and visitors centre; and THAT meant that he submitted, for a second time, work containing AI-generated content.

He was withdrawn from the course.)

[sebscore]

heyy! Got a request! So all the drivers are in this fancy yacht in Monaco promoting F1/race. It's black tie event. Our fem! F1 driver comes in wearing gorgeous dress. And I just want everyone's reaction. I think it will be interesting since the fem! F1 driver usually is in F1 overalls/merch. Thank you!

MISS LITTLE BLACK DRESS

pairing: (most of the) f1 grid x reader (including some retired drivers)

warnings: mentions of the fia. a drunk nando at the end lol.

author's note: thank you so much for the request! this was genuinely so fun to write, i'm sorry that i didn't include the entire grid, but for some people i just genuinely didn't know how they would react or i didn't want the reactions to become repetitive. let me know what you thought of it! 💖

• • • • • • •

''Who's that?'' Lando asked Charles and Charlotte, his eyes not leaving the backside of the woman who had just entered the yacht. The question caught the attention of the other people seated on the long couch. George, Carmen, Alex, Lily, Pierre, Yuki, Carlos and Isa followed Lando's eyes.

It was quite hard to recognize her since her face wasn't visible as she talked to Toto, Mattia and Susie. ''Maybe someone from the FIA or something?'' George concluded, taking a wild guess.

''I love her dress, it's so cute.'' Lily whispered to Carmen, admiring the way it hugged the woman's body perfectly. ''I know, it's sexy, but also elegant in a way.''

''Lando, you should go up to her.'' Pierre encouraged him, taking in the way the Brit was eyeing her up and down.

Alex and Charles agreed. ''Yeah, make it a bit fun for us here! This event isn't gonna get any better than this.'' Alex said, the black-tie event was organized by the FIA and those guys weren't exactly known for their fun parties.

''You sure?'' Lando hesitated, the man was newly single and it had been a while since he had approached someone in that kind of a manner. The group cheered him on, wanting to see their friend take some action and move on from his previous relationship. ''What do I even say?''

The question was more directed at the women. ''Compliment her dress, Lando.'' Isa advised him, knowing she would appreciate it. He nodded at her words, repeating the words in his head.

''Yeah, okay- anything else?'' He asked them.

''Just let the conversation flow from there, it'll be okay.'' Carmen assured the younger guy, seeing how he started to get nervous.

Lando got up from his seat, breathing in and out. ''Here we go.'' He took a swig from his beer for some encouragement and made his way over while the rest of the group watched in anticipation.

''Hi, everyone.'' He greeted the team principals and Susie with a smile, before his eyes fell on the reason he was there. The smile was smacked from his face and was replaced by an expression of disbelief.

''Y/N?''

''Hey, Lando.'' She greeted him back, taking notice of his face that she had a hard time reading. ''What's up?''

The McLaren driver was stunned. The woman was Y/N, he had been checking out the woman he had known since the two of them were kids. In his defense, a long time had passed when he last saw her in anything that wasn't oversized or racing related.

''Nothing, just, uh, wanted to come and say hi,'' he managed to stutter out, ''the rest of us are sitting here, if you'd like to join us.'' He motioned towards the entire group that sat with open mouths as Y/N turned around. They quickly covered their surprise up and waved at her, sending her uneasy smiles.

The unaware driver smiled back at them. ''Yeah, I'll join you guys in a minute.'' She wrapped up the conversation with him, growing uncomfortable with Lando's unsubtle stare.

''Great, see you all later.''

Lando quickly bid them goodbye and was ready to crawl into a hole, feeling humiliated and confused all at the same time. He sat back down on his original spot, avoiding eye-contact with everyone.

''That's Y/N? You were gonna flirt with Y/N.'' Carlos stated in disbelief himself, that he hadn't recognized her before. ''That's crazy.''

''I've never seen her like that, she looks good!'' Charlotte was impressed the way the woman could pull off her duality like that, she looked completely different than she did when Charlotte ran into her on the paddock.

The rest of the girls agreed. ''I'm gonna ask her where she got that dress from, I need that in my closet.'' Lily couldn't stop thinking about the little black dress the woman was wearing.

Meanwhile, the boys watched Lando in amusement as he went through all the five stages of grief. ''Lando, man… I'm sorry, I guess.'' Pierre chuckled, covering his huge grin with his hand.

''Yeah, better luck next time.'' Alex said, trying to not burst out laughing at the situation.

Yuki just observed everyone in confusion, not understanding the big fuss they were making about this. ''Lando, you like Y/N?'' The Japanese man had to start paying more attention to the conversation instead of munching on all the appetizers that were spread out on the table in front of them.

''No, Yuki! I didn't know it was her.'' He exclaimed, getting defensive about the entire thing.

The Alpha Tauri driver simply nodded, not caring much either way.

''I think you guys would be cute, a childhood friends to lovers kinda thing.'' Lily teased, trying to make him feel better about it.

Well, she failed. ''No! She's like- Ugh, just no!'' Lando didn't even want to think about it, him and Y/N was just… no.

''You're getting weirdly defensive about this, Lando.'' Charles teasingly noted.

''And you DNF'd this weekend, we all have our problems.''

''Is that Y/N? Oh, look at her.'' The woman caught the eyes of Sebastian, Lewis, Jenson, Mark and Vallterri. She must have sensed their eyes on her as she turned around and made her way over to them, a big smile on her face.

They made some space so she could sit in-between Seb and Jenson. ''We were starting to wonder where you were, our party animal.'' Jenson teased her. The female driver was quite known for never passing the oppurtunity to celebrate something.

''I've been here for a while actually, but Rosberg caught me when I was ordering something at the bar and well- you know when Nico starts talking.'' She explained her absence, recalling the man going on about whatever Nico Rosberg goes on about.

The five men chuckled, knowing how the man could get. ''That Britney, never gets old.''

''I almost didn't recognize you without the usual racing suit.'' Lewis noted, he had to take several looks before being sure that it was in fact her.

Y/N glanced down at her dress. ''Yeah, I was actually gonna go to a club with my friends, but then my team told me this was kinda mandatory, so that sucked.''

''I think we all would rather be at a club right now.'' Mark said, sighing loudly. A party on a yacht was really hard to make boring, but the FIA had obviously done their best to just do that.

''I just came for the free alcohol.'' Vallterri spoke up for the first time, having everyone agree with him.

The conversation split up from there. Jenson and Mark teasing each other about things they had said on live air, and the former Mercedes teammates catching up with each other.

That left Y/N and Seb, the latter nudging her shoulder. ''You look really pretty, Y/N.'' She was touched by the genuineness in his voice. ''Thanks, Seb.''

''Hey, Y/N.'' She moved around and saw a pretty drunk Fernando approaching them. ''Your dress is a bop or whatever you call it.''

''No, Nando… that's not- oh whatever, thank you!''

[sunderingstars]

zayne x reader + expressing his emotions/feelings via his and reader's heartbeat? Since he's not *just* her doctor...🪐

♡ heartbeat (zayne x reader) ♡

what the stars reveal: no gender signifiers for reader, (but can be assumed fem based off the game’s mc), slight allusions to lore, poetic prose taken directly from my brain at 3am

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ thank you for the suggestion, anon !! i feel like this ask was made just for me because i use zayne’s heartbeats as a way to de-stress every day LOL. i got a little bit carried away so i hope more than a few paragraphs is fine :3

It had started as a joke. Some silly, off-the-cuff banter you didn’t even remember starting, much less continuing until the two of you sat face-to-face on the couch in his office. It didn’t really matter, in your mind, how it happened. All that mattered was the thrumming; the steady rhythm of a heart, his heart, resting warm and stable under layers of skin and fabric.

It didn’t occur to you to be embarrassed. Not when you could feel it against your fingertips, burning through the outer layers of Zayne’s frost-tipped skin, coming to rest against you like a flower, like some sort of fragile thing with petals of ice. If you could, you wished to hold it in your hands, softly, tenderly, in the vain hope it would never crack. A prayer, perhaps, to a god you couldn’t remember.

“What is your verdict, doctor?” the teasing lilt of the last word brought you back to yourself, to the man in front of you. Zayne looked at you, eyes sparkling in amusement.

You coughed lightly. “It’s… uh… normal.” You didn’t remove your hand. “But kind of weird.”

Zayne’s heart stuttered along with his chuckle. “Weird?”

“Yes, weird,” you repeated, letting the lull of his heart diffuse from your fingertips to your chest. “I feel like I’m going to fall asleep.”

A beat of silence. “Go ahead, then.”

You blinked. Part of you thought you must’ve heard wrong — perhaps his heartbeat was laced with some sort of hallucinogen — but when you looked back to him, to the soft upturn at the corners of his mouth, you realized he was serious.

“What?” you asked. “Just like that?”

Zayne raised his eyebrows. “Why not? Leading research suggests that eight to ten hours of sleep is best for optimal performance. And someone I know is falling behind in that regard.”

You considered it, humming. Then you leaned forward until the side of your head replaced your hand on his chest. From here, you could hear the tempo picking up pace directly in your ear.

“It’s even weirder now,” you said.

“Is it?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it likes you.”

You smiled against his chest. “Maybe I like it, too. Maybe, even, I want to give it a big kiss on t—”

“Go to sleep.” His tone was faux-stern, the way he sounded when he wasn’t fully committed to deflecting something. You could have kept prying, you knew, just to see how far the heart metaphor would go, but you decided to give his actual heart a break.

“Fine,” you said. “But I hope it knows it belongs to a great doctor.”

Another stutter against your ear. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

Content, you settle against him, not caring that you’re still half-sitting. It’s easy, then, to listen. To wash away. To hear the sounds of rising, falling, cresting like snowcapped mountains and falling stars, and feel as though you’re a falling star yourself, hopeless.

“I wonder if it loves me,” you murmur, half-conscious, half-hopeful, half-blurred.

The last thing you hear is the low timbre of Zayne’s voice, softer than you’ve ever heard it, sending you off into the dark.

“It does.”

💙 bonus hc 💙: zayne has different ways to check heartbeats depending on how close he is to someone. for his normal days on the job, he uses a stethoscope, but when it comes to those he gets close to, he’ll take it by wrist pulse or neck. when the two of you start dating, he becomes a fan of pretending he can only take your pulse if he’s resting his head against your chest, which usually leads to him falling asleep on you.

© 2024, written by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

An Elementary drabble idea 🫶🏻

Joel coming home in a sour mood after a long and frustrating and just plain tiring day at work, but all of that immediately melts away when hears Reader and Sarah laughing and then spots them playfully dancing in the living area / kitchen / outdoor patio / wherever (lol). And he watches them for a minute, soaking in the precious moment, until they notice him and pull him in on the dancing that leaves the three of them in a happy, playful little mess. And… yeah :’)

Thank you!

A Hard Day

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: F (irritable joel but only for a split second, joel attempts a twerk, just ridiculous fluff what can i say)

wc: <1k

series masterlist | joel masterlist

It had been a while since someone had managed to cut through the thick layer of peace your love had built around his heart, but today someone did it. It was the goddamn city inspector, of course, those fuckers having nothing better to do than nitpick over every possible fault. Joel had gritted his teeth all afternoon, holding his tongue so that they could pass the inspection only for the guy to fail them over an non-permitted deck the owners paid Joel under the table to build.

Now, walking into the house, he was afraid he was going to bring this anger home to the two most undeserving ladies in the world. He felt it in his bones, his snappiness brewing, surely bound to spill over onto you once you inevitably pressed him for answers.

He didn’t find either of you in the living room or kitchen like he expected, but he heard Sarah’s boom box outside playing her new Destiny’s Child cd she’d just gotten for her birthday. He felt irritability bubble in his chest, constricting his breath as he walked over to the patio door, finding you spinning Sarah around on your finger.

As if your laughter carried some sort of magical property to it, he felt every sour feeling in his body burn to ash as he watched the two of you giggle in between singing along off-key to Bills, Bills, Bills.

He leaned against the frame of the sliding glass door and crossed his arms over his chest, a content smile replacing the scowl he’d worn since noon as he watched the performance like a true fan.

When you caught his eyeline, he shot you a wink, expecting you to smile and go on dancing but you had other ideas. Sauntering over to him with your arms stretched out, you unfolded his arms from over his chest and tugged him onto the patio, forcing him to become a part of the performance.

“Nah, I—“

“Dance and I’ll give you a blowjob,” you whispered in his ear and Joel instantly became enthusiastic.

You and Sarah cackled, doubled over as you watched Joel shake his hips to the music, his lips puckered and eyes closed as he moved. When he started to attempt a twerk, you lost it, shaking your head at him as you laughed breathlessly. You walked over and guided his hips to stop, but secretly used the opportunity to slip his wallet and cellphone from his back pocket so that you could…

Splash.

Joel’s body hit the sun-warmed water of the pool with a splat as you pushed him in, Sarah gasping before she let out another breathless laugh. When he rose to the surface, shaking out his hair and smoothing his palms over his wet face, his eyes found you, full of pride and mischief as you knelt down by the edge of the pool to greet him.

“Thought that was funny, huh?” he asked, a half-smirk on his face. “You forget, I got an assistant to do my dirty work for me.”

“Huh?” Before you could even get the sound out, Sarah was pushing you over the edge and into the pool, Joel’s boisterous laughter sounding out long before you emerged from below the surface. When you did, you shot Sarah a betrayed, open mouthed smile, watching as she innocently shrugged before jumping in the water to join the three of you, all of you in your street clothes but none of you caring.

Joel splashed you with some water as he approached you for his homecoming kiss, only to get stopped by your palm pressing against his lips.

“You started it,” he mumbled against your skin before giving your palm a nip. Giggling, you decided he was right and lowered your palm to give him a sweet peck.

“How was work?” you asked as he hugged you tight to his body and swam with you to the middle of the pool. Sarah had busied herself with floating around the two of you on her back, at peace with the water and summer breeze blowing over her.

“Don’t get me started,” he sighed, hugging you tighter as you watched Sarah pass the two of you, her eyes closed to block out the sun. “But I don’t think any of it matters any more. Not when I have you two to come home to.”

“Even if I pushed you into the pool?” you asked with a cutesy smile, Joel’s half-smirk turning into a grin of pure affection.

“Even then,” he confirmed, giving you one more quick kiss. “And good luck gettin’ me out. I think I threw my back out tryin’ to shake my ass.”

“Why do you think I stopped you?”

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

[choccy-milky]

oh boy anon, you’ve activated my trap card. GET READY FOR A SEBASTIAN CHARACTER ANALYSIS ESSAY BELOW LMAO

ok so first off I know im obvs biased, but I don’t actually think my seb is that ooc, AND PUT DOWN YOUR PITCHFORKS IMMA EXPLAIN WHY. but im also gonna explain why I don’t think the other more friendly and lighthearted renditions of seb are ooc either. bc theres so many aspects of seb we get in the game that can be interpreted in so many diff ways, and so this is how i see it/landed on MY rendition of seb:

PROTECTIVENESS/POSSESSIVENESS: this is one of the main aspects of him, imo. his entire questline is about wanting to cure anne, and how he’s not giving up, and how he believes that HE is the only one that can do it, because “she’s MY sister!” seb is super tunnel visioned and has a one-track mind when it comes to this, and I headcanon that he’s this way because of their parents deaths. he’s the brother, the boy, he’s gotta be strong for his sister, and ofc when their parents died, he tries to comfort her and be there for her/be the rock, and it happens again when she’s sick. shes his sister, his responsibility, and he’ll die before he gives up on her and her safety.

SO, I just transfer all those aspects over to a romantic relationship instead. you just replace “shes my sister” with simply, “she’s mine/my gf/my wife/etc.” and in the same way I think seb tries to be strong and reliable and protect anne because he’s the brother, I think seb would be the same way in a relationship, because he’s a boy and she’s a girl and its 1890 and he’s chivalrous and he just sees it as his responsibility. I think the death of his parents and his dynamic with anne has baked this sort of mindset into him, and its even MORE intense in a romantic aspect, because then hormones and puberty and sexual tension and attraction is involved (plus the fact that seb in my fic is 17, so he’s older and has even stronger raging hormones and testosterone LOL.

JEALOUSY: who can forget the lines “between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out” and “ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. is that it?” the first one is more playful but I feel like the second one really showcases sebs brand of jealousy, and how biting and uncharitable it can be.

AGGRESSION/VIOLENCE: yet another iconic line with: “fine. but ominis knows, I won’t step back from a fight.” LIKE... the fact that apparently ominis knows this means its come up more than once…and im not saying seb is some unruly aggressor who flies off the handle at anything, but he defs has a capacity and is willing to get violent if HE believes the situation calls for it—basically the same way he feels about the dark arts. he felt justified using imperio to protect anne, and taking the relic to save anne, and so he would have fought ominis to get out of the catacomb. and with MY seb, while he doesn’t go picking fights with any boy who looks or gets close to clora, he’ll definitely be willing to beat up or lay hands on a creep who bothers clora/who is in the process of bothering her LOL.

SO YEAH, that’s pretty much it, and I’ll be the first to admit I definitely ramp up these traits further because he’s older in my fic and i think these traits would only get more intensified with age + being in love and also bc IM A TWILIGHT GIRLIE!!! what can I say. there are so many moments in my fic where you can just replace seb with edward and it wouldn’t seem out of place tbh LMAOO so blame twilight, it was a formative experience for me BAHAHA

BUT like I ALSO said, I don’t think peoples more lighthearted interpretations of seb are ooc either. because even all my earlier above examples, you can just focus on diff aspects of them. like his tunnel vision and obsession to cure anne? instead of seeing it as over the top protective and possessive, you can just view it in a more wholesome determined selfless sort of way. like I said we got so many nice little bits and ingredients of his personality that we can turn into anything we want, really👌just pick which flavour of seb u like best and use what we got in game to create it HAHA

AW TYY QUEEN BAHAHA💖 and aw im always so honoured when ppl tell me they consider my stuff canon that’s like the best compliment I can get, tysm 😭 and im glad you like my fic and art so much (enough for your friends and family to unfortunately know💀 LMAOO)

im adding your ask to this because it kinda ties into my seb essay. LETS GET INTO WHY A SWEET BABY ANGEL WOULD LIKE SOMEONE LIKE SEB. the answer ISSS: the same reason WE’RE also all into him I guess?? BAHHA

ok but to start off im gonna defend my seb, not only cause of what you said anon (i dont want you to feel like this is targeted to you!) but also bc I got an ask recently asking me to summarize seb and clora’s relationship since all they see from my art is that “they fuck and seb is possessive” LMAO, and I feel like ppl who JUST see my art and don’t read my fic have a warped image of my seb.

this may be shocking but I don’t consider my seb a red flag LMAO. I joke about how hes more of a pink flag tbh, but even THAT i dont even really believe, and don’t even consider him overly possessive. like yes he keeps an eye on her when shes hanging around other boys, but I feel like that’s normal (esp for 1890) and all of his most possessive moments have been when theres been a threat to cloras life/coming from a place of love and protection (especially since clora is so self-sacrificial, she’d have killed herself by now if not for seb LOL) so to me id actually put Sebastian as being PROTECTIVE as his first and foremost trait, followed by the possessiveness.

and yeah he gets jealous, but unless a dude is actively trying to get with her/hitting on her/harassing her, he’ll otherwise just kinda be unhappy about it/let it play out/ watch on unhappily LOL. and even when lawley was blackmailing clora and getting in between her and sebs relationship and lying about how close he and clora were, seb demanded answers from CLORA on what was happening between the two of them, but he didn’t touch lawley or tell him to stay away. bc seb thought that was what clora wanted, so he let her drift away. if he was TRULY a red flag, in this instance he would have just beat up lawley for taking what was "his"/not allow clora to leave him/immediately go to lawley instead of clora, and tell him to stay away despite what clora might want. (and clora even WISHED seb had interfered and done this. she was like 'why is he letting me drift away and go off with lawley i WANT him to fight for me...but she couldn't actually say anything thanks to the blackmail)

clora doesn’t just 'put up' with sebs more possessive and protective behaviour though, she actually likes it HAHA. just bc shes a precious baby angel, we all like a bad boy, even back then. just look at jane eyre, and how popular the dark and brooding and assholey mr. rochester was.

she tells seb at one point that she likes those things about him, even his immature competitive side, and his darker sides, and that he shouldn’t try to hide them or change himself because she accepts them. and even putting aside all of the stuff they’ve been through together that has bonded them (like the main canon quests + annes curse and then CLORA being cursed, and then clora being kidnapped and seb saving her) clora thought seb was roguish and charming and witty and intelligent and good looking from day 1. add to the fact that he’s just so devoted to her in everything he does, that even if he CAN get a bit overbearing at times, how could you NOT fall for someone like that😩 someone whose possessive behavior just stems from wanting to protect you and love you and want to keep you safe and cherish you like DAMN…. GET ME A SEB, TOO. WHERES MINE!!!😭😭

clora also realizes in ch 32 WHY seb is so protective of her (the trauma with his parents and wanting to be there for anne) and that she accepts it, and enjoys it, and that she might even MISS it if seb were to ever get less protective of her/might get lonely LOL, and then sebs like "i’ve "spoiled you, have i?"

so YEAH I don’t think sebs protectiveness and possessiveness goes into any toxic territory or red flag territory PERSONALLY (and the time that it DID get toxic was because of the relic, and clora DID put her foot down)

but my normal seb? whose dream in life is to whisk clora away into a tower and lock her up to keep her safe and keep her all to himself, but that he’d never ACTUALLY do because he knows its insane and unreasonable but jokes about wanting to do it anyway bc he would if clora agreed? clora finds that endearing and cute and is touched by how much he loves her and wants to keep her safe.

IN CLOSING: I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

[waywardxrhea]

stitches - a Matt Murdock one shot

pairing: Matt Murdock x nurse!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 1.8k

you get home after an awful shift to find Matt on your couch in need of medical assistance.

content: fluff, angst, blood, stitches, mentions of car accidents/heart attacks/CPR/death, gn!reader

a/n: no, claire does not exist in this AU, you have taken that spot. go you with your bad self lol

(not my gif)

"Jesus, Matt, you scared me!" you scolded the man in black sitting on your couch with his hand held tight to his side. You took in his state and shrugged your backpack off of your shoulders to get started on tending to his latest injury. His face covering was strewn aside, a formality he had long since abandoned when he came to yours to get first aid, and you saw his eyebrows knit together in a grimace of pain. Even with pain written all over his face he still looked as handsome as ever, with his hair mussed and standing up in every which direction. You shook away those thoughts though as your tired brain remembered that he was injured and you shouldn’t be thinking like that in the first place…

Through gritted teeth, he still managed to be a smart-ass, telling you, "Maybe leave your window locked next time, and I wouldn't scare you."

"I leave it open for you," you replied shortly as you dug in your bag and began pulling out the supplies you needed. "I'd rather you not bleed out on the cold streets."

"So you'd rather me bleed out in the warmth of your apartment, huh?" he smarted off.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth when you began squirting a saline flush onto the wound on his lower abdomen to clean it. "Sorry..." you whispered as you patted the wound dry before getting a better look at it. "Yeah, this one's gonna need stitches," you informed him, taking off your now blood-stained gloves to dig through your bag once more.

"When do they not?" he asked, a quiet chuckle leaving his mouth as he leaned his head back onto the headrest of the couch. Matt's brain was too focused on the feeling of pain from his wound that it barely registered that your usual witty banter was replaced with quiet and timid words that were barely louder than a whisper and in a shaking voice.

You worked in silence and focused on stitching Matt's wound as neatly as possible, but your hands began to shake as you remembered a patient you had earlier in the day who had a similar wound that ended up dying before your team could get him to the OR. "You okay?" Matt's voice interrupted your thoughts and you rapidly blinked the tears pricking the backs of your eyes away and took a deep breath to try and ground yourself once more. You didn't answer his question though, so after a few more stitches, he asked, "Hard day at work?"

Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded and continued stitching up his wound, willing the shaking in your hands to go away as you neared the end of the gash. When you finished, you covered the wound and got up to get Matt some pain medication. "Tylenol," you told him quietly as you gently coaxed his hand open and placed two pills in it, offering him a cool glass of water afterward.

"Thank you," he said before taking the medication and downing half of the glass. As you cleaned up everything, Matt finished the water and placed the glass down on the coffee table, telling you gently, "Go change into something more comfortable and we can talk, yeah?"

You nodded and slipped away into your bedroom, taking off the surgical scrubs you had changed into after taking a shower in the hospital locker room. Tossing the scrubs aside, you put on an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants, blowing out a sigh of relief as you finally felt like you were off the job.

You looked toward a bag you had tossed into the corner of your bedroom a few weeks before and hesitated for a moment before grabbing the contents and heading back out into the living room. "What do you have there?" Matt asked, an eyebrow raising into his forehead as you walked quietly into the living area.

"Clean clothes for you if you want," you replied quietly, regret instantly flooding your body at the gesture. Not even a moment later, you closed your eyes that now had tears building once again, saying, "I- That's probably crossing a line, I'm sorry, I-"

"Thank you," he said, interrupting your babbling and standing up to make his way over to you. "Bathroom second door on the right?" he asked as he took the clothes from your hands.

"Y-yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him make his way into the room to change.

When he returned and sat back on the couch, he gestured to you expectantly and said, "C'mere." You sat beside him on the couch and were shocked when he fluidly pulled you closer and in between his legs as he leaned back onto the arm rest, telling you, "You're so tense..."

You could feel your heart leap into your throat in response to his proximity, but felt yourself instantly relax when his strong hands began massaging the tense muscles in your shoulders. His skilled hands knew exactly where you held the most tension. Of course he did... With the physical relief running through your body, you out a shaky sigh and felt the floodgates open as you suddenly couldn't hold back your tears anymore. Memories of what happened during your shift ran through your mind and you couldn't seem to get them to stop their assault on your mind.

You thought that would cause Matt to stop his ministrations, but instead he continued on and didn't say a word, just letting you cry it out. He would never admit this to you, but there were some nights when he went out that even if he was injured like he was tonight, if he heard you crying after you came home from a shift at the hospital he would give you your space. He knew you prized yourself on keeping calm in the face of chaos and didn't like expressing your emotions so openly, so he never wanted to pry on your private moments. Tonight felt different though. So he just massaged your shoulders until your tears began to slow and you whispered a shaky, "Thank you..."

"You're welcome," Matt replied, slowing to a stop when he was sure all of the tension was out of your shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it now?"

There was a moment of hesitation from you, but finally you nodded, telling him, "We lost a couple of patients today..." You took a deep and shaky breath once more before telling him, "One of mine coded with a massive heart attack... I pounded on his chest for probably a total of ten minutes trying to get him back but..." You stopped and covered your mouth as a choked sob escaped. "It wasn't good enough..."

You took a few deep breaths before telling the second story. "Then someone got into a car accident and got a huge gash in his abdomen... He was losing so much blood and we...we couldn't even get him to the OR before he died... He was so young... He had so much to live for... Wanted to be a police officer, but now..."

You dissolved into tears once more at the memory of the young man's blank eyes staring up at you as you helped pronounce him dead and you felt Matt pull you closer into his arms, mumbling into your hair, "It's okay. Let it out. I'm right here..." He allowed you a few moments before telling you, "You did the best you could. I know you did. That's all you can do."

A few minutes passed of you crying onto Matt's chest as he held you close and ran a comforting hand up and down your upper arm before he mumbled, "You're dehydrated..."

"I didn't drink much today..." you confessed quietly.

"Much or at all?" he asked, shifting his weight so he could get up to get you some water. When you didn't respond, he sternly said your name with concern in his tone.

"When I work I care more about my patients than myself, you know that..." you said.

"And as a healthcare professional you know the importance of drinking water, especially when you're on your feet running around for hours," he said, gently untangling himself from you and getting up, the pain already less evident in his body language as he navigated toward the cabinet to grab a glass.

"You're one to talk Mr. Devil of Hell's Kitchen," you told him, a huff of a laugh leaving your chest. "Wasn't it just last week I was telling you to hydrate?"

"I believe your exact words were 'Hydrate or die-drate, Matthew,'" he replied with a quiet chuckle, happy to hear that your snarky remarks were starting to return after your cry. As he filled the glass from the filtered tap, he asked, "You didn't eat either did you?"

"No..." you whispered. He chastised you once again by calling your name out and you shrunk into the couch as you said, "It was just so busy is all and when I was finally able to sit, the shift was over and I had so many charts to catch up on..."

"I'm ordering food," he said as he sat back down beside you on the couch and thrusted the glass of water into your hands.

"With what money? You don't carry your wallet with you when you go out. That would sorta defeat the whole mystery man thing," you said, a small smirk on your lips before you took a sip of the water, the cool liquid soothing your aching throat.

"Then how about I owe you one? Friday night at the Italian place down the block?" You nearly choked on the sip of water you were working on at the comment he made so casually, having to wipe the excess off of your chin as you looked at him with wide eyes. He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he added, "As in a date."

"A...date? Matt, are you sure?" you asked in a hushed tone as you placed the glass on the coffee table to stop from spilling it with your shaking.

"Yes," he said as he wrapped you in his arms once more. "I think we both know we've been past the point of this being a strictly professional relationship for a while," he said before almost hesitantly leaning down to place his lips on your temple in a gentle kiss.

"I'm glad you said something," you said before turning your head up toward him and kissing his cheek. "I was afraid of messing things up..."

"You don't have to be afraid around me," he said, a sweet smile gracing his features.

"I know..." you replied bashfully as his stare focused on your chest, more specifically your heart. "Thank you for everything, Matt... It means the world."

"You mean the world to me," he said, that cocky smirk returning once more. Rolling your eyes, you leaned up and wiped it off of his lips by placing a gentle kiss on them, shocking him for a moment before he relaxed into the kiss, his soft lips melting perfectly onto yours. Perhaps you were grateful for that dreadful shift after all...

likes and comments are appreciated! <3

[stvrni0lo]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

chris sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: in the spur of the moment, chris admits his love

warnings/notes: kissing? but that’s about it

requested?: no

> > >

Being with Chris for the past few months had been nothing short of exhilarating. He always found a way to keep you on your toes. Just as you thought you found out everything there is to know about him, he would do or say something that completely threw you in for a loop.

He was an exciting person - and you liked that.

Now as you lay across his sheets, phone in hand, you were sure that this time - 100% - there was nothing that he could say that would surprise you.

Oh how wrong you were.

Chris jogged into the room, hands filled with snacks and two cans of pepsi. Dropping them onto his bedside table, he threw himself onto the space next to you, causing the bed to bounce haphazardly. The springs squeaked with each up and down motion of the mattress.

“What’s up? What’re you watching?” he asked, his head peeking to look at your screen.

“Just tiktok. I keep seeing those stupid grimace shake videos,” you stated.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he leaned his head onto you so that he could see what you were talking about.

“Yeah, well leave grimace alone and pay attention to me.”

You felt a slight poke on your cheek and you smiled, turning to look at Chris. You clicked your phone off to throw it somewhere to the side and move your body to fully face your boyfriend.

“Don’t be jealous! Grimace could never replace you,” you joked.

“Yeah I know! Bro doesn’t even taste that good,” he said, referencing the prior video he had made where him and his brothers tried the new McDonald’s milkshake. He grimaced (lol) at the memory of the taste.

“Oh and you do?”

He gave you playful scoff as if to show his disbelief that you would even question it. With his warm hand inching to the back of your neck, his breath fanned across your face as he responded.

“You tell me.”

And with that he leaned into you, capturing your lips in a slow kiss.

He pulled back, anticipating your response.

You knew what he wanted to hear, but you decided to drag the game on a little longer.

Feigning like you were deep in thought, you hummed.

“I’m not sure. I couldn’t quite tell.”

With another lean forward, his lips brushed against yours quickly before the gap was closed once again.

His fingertips brushed across your cheek, causing your skin to tingle at the contact. There was nothing like kissing Chris. Head tilting to the side, he silently urged you to keep going. Unfortunately, you also needed oxygen right at this moment.

Hesitantly you pulled back from him, leaning your forehead onto his in order to catch your breath.

“Yeah- I guess that was cool or whatever,” you teased.

Chris jokingly pushed you back onto the pillows, pretending to be annoyed, and lay his head onto your stomach. His hands wrapped around your back, holding you close to him. You began to play with his long, unruly curls, earning a slight hum of appreciation from the boy on-top of you.

“Y’know, I really like you,” he said breaking the comfortable silence.

Your head almost spun at how sweet he sounded. Never had you felt so appreciated before.

“I like you too, Chris.”

He lifted his head to meet your eyes. Shifting his weight so that he was leaning over you, he spoke again.

“No like- I really, really like you.”

His voice almost faltered as he desperately tried to get his point across. He knew what he really wanted to say, but nerves got the best of him.

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“I know, babe. I really like you too,” you said, playfully mocking his previous sentence.

Fingertips tickling your face, Chris moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes looked different - there was an emotion there that you had never seen before.

“I’m trying to say that I love you, goof.”

Your heart skipped several beats. Of course it wasn’t odd that he had said those words to you - I mean you had been dating for months. A part of you just always expected you to say it first. However, hearing it come out of his lips sounded better than you could ever imagine.

A smile found it’s way onto your face, and you spun Chris around on his back. You began peppering kisses all over his face, ignoring his giggles and pleas for you to stop your ticklish antics. Moving from his jaw, to his cheek, to his forehead and nose, and finally to his lips.

Halting your movements, you whispered a response.

“I love you too.”

And with that, you leaned down to kiss him once more.

[angel-of-the-moons]

hi!! i’ve recently been struggling with my eating disorder, and i was wondering if you could do a hobie x gf!reader where reader is having a really hard time eating and he comforts her and helps her eat? lots of physical touch and words of affirmation if possible - and if this req is uncomfy i get it !!

Awww hon I hope this helps you feel a bit better!

Let Them Eat Cake (Or Something)

Soft!Hobie x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Eating Disorders/Anorexia, hints of depression, bullying, some mental trauma, back at it again with the fluffy bullshit (Hobie also makes an inappropriate promise but nothing is detailed lol)

A/N: I myself struggle with eating disorders brought on by financial strains and mental issues (still do) so I totally understand this kinda thing!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

It was the little things Hobie did to take care of you that most people probably couldn't imagine someone of his niche to do.

Things like peeling off the nutrition labels to things you'd buy at the grocery store so you couldn't stress over the calories (or lack thereof), buying those meal replacer shakes for you to try when you didn't want to eat; hovering over (respectfully) when you prepared your meals, saying little things to encourage you to fill your plate more.

"Ay, you should try this. Saw it online and heard it tastes pretty good with that, yeah?"

"Jus' a bit more, I can still see some on ya plate there. Almost done and it's less stuff wasted, right?"

He would even call or text you to eat one of the little snack baggies he'd prepped you full of healthy snacks. Even if it wasn't a full meal, helping you eat throughout the day brought him peace of mind so he wouldn't worry about you wasting away.

He'd read up on eating disorders and didn't like it one bit, so he devoted half his time with you around meals more focusing on you, even while he scarfed down his own portions.

Hobie had an insane metabolism, it was like he was constantly eating something in some way or another to keep himself going, and at some point you'd joked he had a black hole for a gullet.

But still, he would watch you out of the corner of his eye, taking your little mouse nibbles here and there, sipping your drink...

He knew that bringing it up front would only upset you, so he'd do little things to distract you from your thoughts of your food. He'd play little games with you. Like 20 questions. If you got one wrong, you'd have to eat another bite of your food. It would continue like that until your food was gone and you didn't realize it.

A punk with a heart of gold, Hobie Brown was. Though he'd never admit it out loud, even the members of his band would snort and laugh at how soft he was with you; though they understood completely why.

Today, you and Hobie went out for lunch, and you two attracted more than a few curious glances at your contrast in styles when you sat down to order. People just loved to stare, didn't they?

You idly played with your chips, pushing them around on your plate, your chicken sandwich sitting with just a few bites taken out of it.

"Ay, luv. Eyes bigger than your stomach, again?" Hobie asked, sipping his pop.

"Yeah... I just didn't think there'd be so much of it. I just..." You sigh, feeling defeated.

You'd had this problem since you were barely a teenager, and it only got worse after time. At least you stopped making yourself vomit up all your food.

You remember how badly it went when your mother caught you doing that.

In truth, you only started starving because... well. In school you were always insulted by the "prettier" girls. You'd always assumed you were pretty too, that's what your parents and relatives would always say. But being in the face of a gaggle of obnoxiously made-up girls rag on you in the lavatory, in gym class, or lunch... the pressure to be "thin" was hammered into you. If you looked like them, they would leave you alone.

And from there it went. You'd tried dating before, but none of your partners ever took care of you. Hell, one of them practically encouraged it and showed you diet pills online. You broke it off pretty quick after that.

Hobie was honestly the first to not automatically suggest you get locked in a mental ward, or just force yourself to scarf portions that were too much for your shrunken stomach to handle. Hobie was gentle and sweet, understanding with you.

Like he was right now.

"Well we can box it up and you can toast it up for later, alright?" He suggested.

His own plate was empty and your still practically full one wasn't lost on him. But he knew that directly pointing at the elephant in the room would only upset you.

His boot nudged your foot under the table and he gave you a smile, his eyes lighting up.

"Yeah.... yeah I can do that." You smile back sheepishly, letting Hobie flag down the server so he could pay (his treat, after all) and get you a to-go box.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Later that night, Hobie had reheated some leftovers from the night previous and toasted your chips and sandwich for you to finish off again; because ugh, nobody enjoyed soggy microwaved chicken and chips. And if they did they were a complete loon.

You sat snuggled up on the sofa, your food in your lap as Hobie's characteristically empty plate lay on the coffee table next to his propped up feet as the program droned on the television in front of you.

His hand rubbed your arm lazily up and down in a soothing motion as his eyes flicked down to your plate.

"You gon'a finish that, luv?" He hummed softly, kissing the top of your head.

"I..." You sighed down at the plate in your hands.

"'S all right." He mumbled into your hair. "But ya do worry me, baby. How about this... if you finish your food.... hm."

He looked at the ceiling and you could tell that he was faking thinking of something serious.

You knew it especially when he gave you a cocky smirk.

"If you finish your food, I'll do that thing you really like, for you, eh?"

"Hobie!" You snort, rolling your eyes at him.

"Oh? Not what you want, hm? How about..." He tapped his chin with his free hand, once again making a grand gesture of "deep" thought.

"Fine fine... how about we go to that li'le art museum you've been goin' on about?"

Your eyes light up and you look at him.

"Really?"

"Yep! Really. But only if you finish your food." He put a finger under your chin and kissed your nose.

"And eat breakfast tomorrow."

"Deal!"

Hobie smiled to himself as you tore into your food with motivation.

Being Spider-Man didn't always mean fighting the oppressive regime they were stuck with. It wasn't always about thwarting criminals in the streets.

Sometimes it was about coming home and making sure his girlfriend had enough to eat.

And that was plenty for him.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 05 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 8,2k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I sighed, feeling heat rise to my cheeks as I sensed a kind of understanding forming between the three of us, albeit slowly; Dave and James were like two sides of the same coin, always had been, brothers of fire and anger even before all their pain had driven them apart. Was it such a shocker that they'd both end up falling for the same woman? Was it such a surprise that I'd end up loving them both? Maybe we always knew it would eventually lead to this.

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, threesome, mxfxm sex, dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, unprotected sex, oral sex, drug issues mentioned, alcoholism, drinking

✦ a/n: Hey, everyone! So, this chapter turned out a bit longer too, but I couldn't wrap up the fic without throwing in this smut scene at least once. Honestly, it's one of my favorites in the whole story! Oh, and in case you haven't noticed - yeah, Leanne's husband is Joe Sinclair. He popped up in some earlier chapters as Lea's friend who had that cool beach house where they celebrated Cliff's birthday and where James first kissed Nore at Lea's birthday party. Next part's gonna be the finale, and I swear we're finally getting a happy ending after all the drama lol Thanks for sticking around and reading, feedback is appreciated! ❤

April 6, 1992

Dave and I came back from our weekend getaway even more head over heels for each other, if that was even possible. Now that our feelings were out in the open, any walls between us just crumbled away, leaving us with one undeniable truth: I was crazy about him, and he felt the same way about me. Life had never felt so simple. 

Life had also never felt so damn complicated; come Monday, things took an unexpected turn when Lars unexpectedly dropped by. He showed up at my place bright and early, his usual chill vibe replaced with a hint of worry that had me wondering what was up.

"Hey, Lars. Come on in, I was just munching on some breakfast," I gestured for him to enter, stepping aside. He gave a somewhat tense smile and took a seat at the kitchen table, setting his backpack down. "Hungry? I've got pancakes, orange juice, some fresh sliced watermelon..."

"Just water, thanks. I grabbed a bite earlier," he replied, flashing a quick smile when he noticed my concern.

"If you're all fueled up, what's with the serious face?" I inquired. "Something happened?"

"Actually..." he trailed off. I plopped down at the table, sliding a glass of water his way and pouring myself some juice, giving him a curious glance. "You catch the news today?"

"News?" I furrowed my brow, and Lars let out a sigh, seeming resigned. He unzipped his backpack, pulling out a magazine and passing it over to me. I blinked at him, puzzled, before focusing on the publication.

What I saw left me gaping in disbelief.

The magazine was one of those gossip rags, the kind I never bought because I had never been interested in such stuff. If I didn't expect Lars to read this kind of thing, I certainly didn't expect to see myself on the cover. The photo showed a painfully familiar scene; Dave and I getting off at the airport together the night before, him with an arm around my waist, pulling me close as he whispered something in my ear and I smiled. We both looked happy; happy and at peace, like I hadn't felt in a long time.

The photo didn't take up the whole cover; there was some other Hollywood gossip splashed across it that I barely paid attention to as I zeroed in on the caption beneath my picture with Dave.

SHE’S GOT A TYPE? Get the lowdown on Nore Burton and her new metalhead boyfriend, snapped in LA yesterday, on page 30.

I hurriedly flipped through the magazine, landing on the page mentioned and scanning through it, feeling my face flush hotter with every word.

Lately, there's been a buzz among Hollywood bigwigs and celebs about a fresh face on the scene: Eleanore Burton (27), aka Nore Burton. The actress, with a theater background and gearing up for her small-screen debut, turned heads by snagging the lead in Pacific Coast Television's (PCT) latest romance series, sharing the screen with some seasoned industry pros.

What's not widely known is that the actress is actually cousins with late Metallica bassist, Cliff Burton. And then there's the rollercoaster romance between her and the band's frontman and guitarist, James Hetfield (28). They've been on and off since way before they hit the big time, dabbling with other flings whenever they hit a rough patch.

But what really caught our eye was spotting the actress getting cozy with a new flame: Dave Mustaine (30), infamous for his sharp tongue and ongoing feud with Metallica after getting kicked out of the band in '83. A trusted source confided that they were actually together for a few months earlier that same year, but things fizzled out shortly after Metallica dropped their debut album, Kill 'em All.

It's anyone's guess how James Hetfield feels about his sweetheart's new fling. How's he gonna take the news that she's back in touch with an old flame he's not too keen on? We tried reaching out to Hetfield via Metallica's reps, but no word back yet as of press time.

"They went after him?" I shouted, eyebrows raised, looking at Lars in shock. "Lars, I had no clue about this pic! I..." I shook my head, too stunned to finish.

"Yeah, welcome to the club, babe," Lars quipped, snatching the magazine from me. "Just wait till you need bodyguards for your Bloomingdale's run. Fame's got its downsides, no doubt." He glanced up, frowning. "When were you planning to spill the beans about getting back with Mustaine?"

"I was going to, I swear," I said, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks. Lars just huffed, giving me an incredulous look. I couldn't blame him for being peeved; maybe I should've looped them in sooner. But I didn’t expect my personal life would become front-page news like that. "Seriously, Lars. Dave and I just reconnected last month, but everything happened so fast..."

"And what about James? Did he get the memo, or did he find out through the grapevine?"

"He knows Dave and I crossed paths again. But..." I paused, feeling a lump form in my throat, my voice trailing off as memories of James' silent treatment flooded back. "He's been avoiding me for weeks. I've called, but no answer. It's like I'm invisible to him," I finished in a mumble, blinking back a lone tear rolling down my cheek.

Lars gazed at me for a beat, then let out a sigh, opening his arms for a hug. I blinked back tears, feeling them well up despite my efforts, and eased myself into his embrace.

"You know you could've spilled this to us, me and Kirk," he said softly. "You could've mentioned James was giving you the silent treatment again. We would've had your back."

"I didn't want to be a burden," I murmured, and he scoffed.

"You're not a burden. We're family; we look out for each other, got it?"

"Thanks," I choked out, my voice thick with emotion, as I stepped back. I straightened up, brushing my hair back and sniffing, wiping away the tears that had slipped down my cheeks. "I... I'll give him a call. And if he doesn't pick up, I'll swing by his place after today's shoot. We gotta talk things out; it ain't cool for him to shut himself off like this."

"You want me to come along?" Lars offered, rising from his seat, and I shook my head no. I'd rather handle this on my own. "Okay; I got some stuff to sort out myself. We're hitting the road soon for a tour, won't be back till August for Lea's wedding. If James pops up, I'll call you, alright? And let him know you're looking to chat."

"Sure thing, Lars," I smiled softly as he clasped my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Appreciate it."

As expected, I couldn't get hold of James; every call went straight to voicemail. I got swept back into my daily grind, a hectic day of non-stop shooting. Word about me and Dave must've spread like wildfire; some colleagues offered sympathetic words, but I also caught plenty of curious looks and hushed chatter whenever I was on set during the day.

I left the studio totally beat; all I craved was getting home, hitting the shower, and crashing out. But, sticking to my morning promise, I made my way to James' place. I stood at the door, debating whether to ring the bell. After a moment, I went for it, but got no response. I fidgeted nervously, wondering if I'd picked a lousy time to drop by; I wasn't even sure he'd be home. I hit the bell again and waited. Just when I was about to bail, James finally swung open the door.

The moment I laid eyes on him, I could tell he wasn't okay; his disheveled hair, creased forehead, and bloodshot eyes gave away recent drinking. He just stood there, staring at me, before stepping aside silently to let me in. I winced at the sight of his living room, a mess that brought back memories of our wild party days back when we were younger; empty beer bottles littered the floor, clothes tossed haphazardly on the couch, and a stack of pizza boxes sitting on the corner table.

"You showed up," James muttered hoarsely, and I turned to him. He gazed at me, a mix of pain and bitterness flashing in his blue eyes, sending a wave of discomfort through me. "Finally remembered I'm alive? Or did your boyfriend not want you around today?"

"James..." I started, my tone a mix of caution and desperation. I wasn't looking for a fight. All I wanted was to talk things out with him. He snorted before heading to the kitchen, and I trailed after him. I watched with worry as he opened the fridge, reaching for a beer. "I... I don't think booze is the answer right now."

"Thanks for the tip, but I'll pass," he smirked, sarcastically. "What brings you here, Nore? Suddenly worried about my feelings now that the whole world knows you're with someone else?"

"James, that's not fair," I said, my voice choking up. "I've been trying to reach out to you for weeks. You've been ignoring my calls, you didn't answer any of my voicemails, and now I'm the one who doesn't care?"

He shot me an annoyed look but stayed silent. I sighed, blinking away the forming tears as I looked away from him, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat. Maybe coming after him wasn't such a great idea after all.

"Lars mentioned you're hitting the road soon. How are you planning to handle that if you're in this state?" I questioned weakly, and he just rolled his eyes.

"And what's it to you?"

"I do care about you, James. Even if you can't see it," I answered, my voice dropping, feeling the weight of his anger. Whenever James got like this, I felt lost, like a ship tossed at sea, struggling to find solid ground but always drifting. It was like he was slipping further away, and I couldn't reel him back in. I couldn't handle it — his distance or the hurt it caused.

"Why'd you go back to him, Nore?" he questioned suddenly, his voice now filled with anguish. "Wasn't I good enough for you?"

"James, please," I implored, taking a step forward, but he shook his head, backing away. "Come on. You know I care about you..."

"Don't say that while I have to watch you happy with him," James snapped. "Really, Nore? Fucking Mustaine? I can handle you seeing other people when we're not good, but did it have to be him ? The one person I know I can't measure up to?"

"James," I begged, my voice catching. "I didn't plan for this. But I can't ignore how I feel. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us. But you don't have to push me away. Please, let me help..."

" Stop it ," he interrupted, his voice sharp and icy. I flinched, holding back tears, feeling a pang of sadness as I watched James' expression turn hostile. "I told you not to come crying to me, didn't I? I don't want to fucking see you, I don't want to hear about your life. I don't know why you still think I give a shit," he snarled, his words laced with venomous anger.

I gaped at him, stunned, my heart pounding painfully in my chest as I watched the realization of what he'd just said sinking in, the hostility melting into regret in his blue eyes. He reached out, but it was too late; the damage was done, my heart shattered, and I knew I couldn't stand to be near James for another second right then, no matter how hard I tried.

As he came closer, I swatted his hand away, tears streaming down my face. I backed off quick, just needing to get away, to put as much space between my pain and James' rising temper as I could, even if that meant widening the gap between us even more.

I got home feeling totally crushed, tears still streaking down my cheeks as I flopped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, and caught sight of the blinking light on the phone, telling me I had messages waiting. I grabbed the phone and held it up to my ear, tapping the button to listen to the voicemails. A faint smile crept onto my face as Dave's voice came through.

Hey, babe. How's it going? Just saw that article they threw out about us. Give me a call, alright?

I let out a sigh. Even though I was feeling pretty down, I knew chatting with Dave would lift my spirits, so I quickly dialed up his number.

"Hey."

"Hi, Dave," I said, trying to put on a smile even though my voice was still a bit wobbly.

"Hey, sweetheart. You alright?" Dave asked, sounding all worried. Of course he'd pick up on my mood instantly; nobody read me like Dave did.

"I..." I let out a sigh; I didn't wanna stress him out, but I also couldn't keep everything that went down with James from him. "No, I'm not," I confessed. "I... I went to see James, Dave. He's not in a good place... We had a huge fight, he said some nasty stuff, and I..."

"It's because of that stupid article, right?" he said, his voice tense. I agreed, and he let out a sigh. "Hey, wanna swing by my place? I don't want you to be alone if you're feeling this bummed out. I'll whip up some dinner for us."

"Wait, you actually know how to cook?" I asked, my genuine curiosity distracting me from my sadness for a moment, and he chuckled softly.

"I'm getting there. Can't survive on fast food forever, you know. But I can always order in if you're not convinced by my culinary skills," he said, and I giggled.

"No need. I'm game to try your cooking. I'll just change and head over there, then."

I showed up at Dave's home not long after, carrying a backpack slung over my shoulder packed with all the stuff I figured I'd need for the next day. When he swung the door open, I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his chest.

"Hey," he chuckled softly, running his fingers through my hair. I glanced up, standing on my toes to plant a kiss on his lips. He grinned, his hands cradling my face gently. "C'mon, let's head inside."

I smiled softly when I stepped into Dave's place and noticed the living room, dimly lit and cozy, lit up with just a small lamp while some soft tunes played in the background. Not the usual heavy metal songs I was used to enjoying with him, but instead, a nice, slow piano melody. The dining table was all set with red candles flickering, some spaghetti bolognese, and a bottle of red wine.

Dave snuck up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on my shoulder, swaying along to the music. I couldn't help but let out a soft giggle. I turned around to wrap my arms around his neck; he slid his hands down to my waist, giving me a light kiss on the lips before resting his forehead against mine.

"A candlelit dinner and some music? You're pulling out all the stops this time, Mustaine," I remarked, and he grinned.

"Just wait 'til you see what I've got planned for after we go to bed."

"You didn't go all out with rose petals and stuff, did you?" I teased, and he chuckled, giving me a tight hug and a light kiss on the lips.

"I'd do anything to see you smile. You know that, right?" he asked, softly.

How could I feel anything but pure joy hearing that? Having Dave back in my life felt like a dream, one that just kept getting sweeter by the day. I could see it in his eyes he meant it, despite all the mess with James, despite all the baggage from my past. He loved me, plain and simple. What more could I ask for? 

Instead of answering, I simply leaned in and planted another kiss on his lips.

August 15, 1992

The next few months flew by in a blur. Between my jam-packed schedule and all my commitments, things slowly started shifting. Dave and I made it official, letting everyone know we were back on, and sure, at first, it caused a bit of a stir with the gossip mags and our circle of friends. But soon enough, the novelty wore off, and we got our privacy back.

The moments I spent with him were just something else; every day, our bond got stronger, and I couldn't get enough of Dave - his smile, the feel of his skin on mine, the taste of his kiss, and how his eyes softened whenever they locked with mine.

Dave kept fighting to stay clear of falling back into addiction, even though some days were really tough on him. I did what I could to support him, even if I knew deep down that I couldn't fix everything. But Dave always made sure to let me know that just having me around made things a whole lot easier.

Having him around definitely helped ease my load too; getting back with Dave kind of lifted some of the heaviness I'd been carrying around for the past few years. Sure, I knew I'd always have to deal with the sadness that came with losing Cliff. But the pain of having lost Dave in the past bit by bit was slowly being replaced by love - real, deep love that filled up my chest almost entirely.

Almost entirely, except for the part that still hurt because of my messed-up relationship with James. We'd been in this complicated dance for a few years now, but lately, he'd been more distant than ever. I mean, I get it, being a big-time artist, time works a bit differently, right? It wasn’t unusual for us to go ages without seeing each other when the band was out on their never-ending tours, but usually, we'd at least keep some kind of contact going.

But lately, it felt like he was going out of his way to steer clear of me, and honestly, I wasn't really feeling the urge to patch things up after the nasty stuff he'd flung my way last time we talked. I'd still give Lars and Kirk quick calls to check in on them every now and then, but I made sure to steer clear of bringing up James, and they didn't mention him either.

I figured I'd bump into him sooner or later. I mean, with Leanne's wedding creeping up, it was bound to happen. Lea and Joe had settled on tying the knot down in New Orleans and had snagged a whole hotel to fit everyone in. I caught up with them the day before the big party, when they swung by to greet us at the airport and give us a ride to the hotel.

The moment I laid eyes on Lea, a huge smile spread across my face; she was just like I remembered her, with her dark locks and sparkly eyes, but I couldn't help but do a double-take at the little bump showing she was expecting. As for Lea, she didn't seem at all shocked to see Dave tagging along with me for the event. Despite the miles between us, Leanne and I always made sure to keep each other in the loop about what was going on in our lives.

"You’re pregnant? " I blurted out, all wide-eyed and grinning as she pulled me into a hug. She laughed.

"Yeah, I am! Joe and I were just as shocked, believe me. I'm at 19 weeks... Oh, sorry, that's like 4 months, right? I didn't spill the beans sooner 'cause I wanted to tell you face-to-face."

"Wow, Lea. That's amazing news, congrats!" I gushed, beaming at her, and she beamed right back.

Man, I was beyond thrilled for her. Even though Leanne and I hadn't been as close lately, I still saw her as one of my ride-or-die besties, and I knew she felt the same way. Losing Cliff had changed a lot of stuff, but it didn't touch the bond we had. Seeing her all glowing and living her best life, well, it warmed my heart more than words could say.

Dave and I tagged along with Leanne to the airport parking lot, and there was Joe, leaning against the car, waiting for us. His face lit up with a smile when he spotted us. While Leanne hadn't changed much, Joe was a whole new dude compared to the long-haired blondie I knew back in my San Francisco days. These days, he kept his hair super short, almost buzzed, and sported a full beard. But that friendly grin of his was still exactly the same.

"Hey, Nore, Dave! Been ages!" he said, giving us a hug before unlocking the car. "How've you been? Pumped for the party?"

"I'm counting down the minutes," I grinned, and Leanne let out a soft chuckle. "But you two must be over the moon, right? Tomorrow's your big day!"

"Oh, you have no idea," Leanne said, all hyped up. "We've been waiting for this forever, and now that it's finally happening, it's like pinch-me-I'm-dreaming territory."

We pulled up at the hotel before we knew it. Dave and I gave Leanne and Joe a big thanks for the lift, then headed inside to check-in and crash for a bit. I mean, the next day was gonna be huge. Finally, we made it to our room, and I let out a sigh of relief, humming a little as I started unpacking. Dave glanced over at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You're looking pretty happy," he observed, moving in closer and resting a hand on my waist. I let out a soft chuckle as he planted a kiss on my cheek, his lips brushing lightly against my skin before meeting mine. "I love seeing you like this."

"Isn't it crazy that Lea's gonna have a baby? That's awesome," I remarked, grinning. Dave chuckled softly, pulling me into a hug before his lips found mine once more. I let out a contented sigh as he gently gripped my hips, drawing me closer.

"You ever thought about having one?" he murmured, his voice low and a hint of a smile on his lips as he leaned in close to my ear. I pulled back a bit, feeling a blush creep up on my cheeks as I looked at him, surprised. "We could have a little one someday. You know, down the road. Or two. Or ten ."

"How'd we jump from two to ten?" I giggled, and he let out a big laugh.

"Just throwing it out there. If you want, I’d love to have a future with you."

Those words from Dave kept swirling around in my head all night, even after we'd settled into bed. Ever since Cliff had passed, I'd been steering clear of making any big plans for the future. Losing him had hit me hard, wrecking any dreams I used to have. For a while, I’d just let life happen, rolling with the punches as they came. I was so, so terrified of hoping for anything and ending up crushed and broken again. But with Dave by my side, everything felt different, like the world was painted in brighter colors. Was it okay to start thinking about a future where we wouldn't ever have to be distant again? Was it okay to start thinking about a future with him?

A future with him. Just the thought made my stomach tie up in knots, all tangled up with the fear that it could all go south one day. But deep down, I knew I craved it with every fiber of my being.

Maybe I wasn't exactly brimming with courage right then, but one thing I knew for sure: for as long as I lived, I never wanted to be apart from Dave again.

August 16, 1992

Leanne's wedding ceremony was short and sweet, but emotional. I'll admit, I got a bit teary-eyed watching her stroll down that aisle, all choked up with happy tears but still beaming. On the downside, being a bridesmaid meant I couldn't shake the feeling of James' eyes on me the whole time. Him, Lars, and Kirk were all groomsmen at the wedding too.

James and I had crossed paths real quick at the hotel during breakfast, but it was like we were total strangers. Not a single word passed between us. Maybe I was being a bit stubborn, but after the nasty stuff he'd flung at me months back, I wasn't about to be the one to make the first move and patch things up.

The wedding’s reception kicked off pretty quickly, held at a beautiful historical mansion not far from our hotel. I snagged a seat at the table set aside for me, Dave, and a bunch of other folks while he headed off to grab some food. I glanced up with a grin when I noticed a familiar face plop down beside me.

"Hey, Kirk," I greeted, and he flashed me a warm smile.

"Hey, Nore! Finally tracked you down. So, I noticed Lea moved you to a different table... Is it 'cause you and James had a spat or 'cause your boyfriend's not our biggest fan?" he quipped, and I chuckled.

"Maybe a bit of both. But don't sweat it, Dave won't mind me hanging with you guys. As for James..." I let out a sigh. "How's he holding up?"

Kirk grimaced.

"The usual drill, ya know. Him and Lars got into it like three times on the tour... Lars keeps pushing him to hit up rehab, but James insists he’s good," he sighed, then flashed a grin. "Sorry 'bout the tiff you guys had. But he'll bounce back, trust me."

"I know. It's just frustrating when you wanna lend a hand but the other person isn’t having it," I admitted with a sigh, then glanced up as Dave strolled over with two plates of food. "Red alert, Dave's on the scene," I joked, and Kirk chuckled before standing up.

"I'll bail for now. Don't wanna ruffle your boyfriend's feathers too much. We'll chat later, Nore."

I flashed Kirk a smile as he headed off to join Lars and James at their table. Heat rushed to my cheeks when I sensed James looking my way, so I quickly turned my attention to Dave.

"Brought food," Dave grinned, sliding a plate in front of me before settling down beside me. "So, what was up with Hammett?"

"Just chatting. You know we haven’t seen each other in a while," I answered, a small smile playing on my lips. He scoffed, rolling his eyes, but didn't seem too bothered. "Jealous, much?" I teased.

"No need for jealousy, sweetheart. I know you're madly in love with me," he grinned, and I playfully nudged his arm, chuckling.

We wrapped up our meal, happily chatting the whole time. Once dinner was done, a sweet tune started playing, and I couldn't help but grin as I watched Leanne and Joe twirling around the dance floor. Leanne looked stunning in her fancy dress, her hair all dolled up with twinkling little gems. Joe looked like he was on cloud nine, beaming at her like she’d hung the moon. I felt Dave slide an arm around my waist, planting a soft kiss on my temple, and I melted into his embrace.

The party flowed like honey, with drinks pouring freely, mouthwatering meals, and catching up with old friends. Leanne had rounded up a bunch of folks from our San Francisco days, so mingling was easy. Dave and I bounced around, shooting the breeze with different faces, and as the booze kicked in, things got looser. I ended up deep in conversation with Lars at one point, while Dave snuck up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. I couldn't help but chuckle at how unexpected and unlikely the moment felt.

The only person I hardly even crossed paths with was James. I mean, there was this one time when I was heading back from the bathroom and accidentally plowed right into him. He caught me, his hands gripping my shoulders tight, and I couldn't help but blush when I looked up and saw it was him. I took a step back, my face probably as red as a tomato, while he just stood there, all serious, not saying a word.

"What?" I snapped, my voice a bit sharper than I meant it to be. He just kept on staring at me, like he was trying to figure out what to say, but I wasn't in the mood to hash things out with him. I spun on my heel and headed back to Dave, who was busy grabbing us a couple of drinks at the bar.

“Hey, babe. You good?" Dave asked, passing me a glass filled with a drink. I took a sip and nodded, shooting a quick glance over at James, who was still eyeing me from afar. We locked eyes for a sec, both of us clearly ticked off, until Dave caught on and followed my gaze. He frowned, grabbing my hand. "C'mon, let's go somewhere else."

I tore my gaze away from James, ditching my drink on some random table as I trailed after Dave, feeling kinda intrigued. The way Dave's shoulders tensed up told me he wasn't exactly thrilled about the silent stare-down I just had with James.

He led me through the mansion's hall and out the back door, where we found ourselves in a huge, empty garden since most of the guests were still inside. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was up to, as he guided me to a secluded spot in the garden. My eyes widened in surprise when he pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me before planting a harsh kiss on my lips.

"What's the deal with you and James?" he growled, catching me off guard with the intensity in his voice.

"Dave, it’s nothing," I murmured, but he just grunted in response, kissing me again with a bit too much force, his tongue pushing into my mouth without any of the usual gentleness. I let out a little moan, taken aback, gripping onto his arms as his hold on my waist tightened.

"He's been eyeing you all night, and now you can't seem to take your eyes off him," he murmured, giving my lip a light nip as he backed me against the wall. He slid one knee between my legs and his hand rested lightly on my neck. "You gonna clue me in on why you're giving him all this attention?"

"He's just being a jerk. I'm not giving him the time of day, I... Oh!" I gasped when Dave spun me around, pressing my back against him and pulling me close, letting me feel his hard-on as he started kissing my neck. "Dave, hold on, you're drunk..."

"And what if I am? You are too," he grunted, but eased up on his hold a bit. His lips, however, kept on working their magic on my skin, planting soft kisses that sent shivers down my spine. "What's wrong? You wanna go back to him?"

"It's not that," I murmured, daring to turn to face him again. Dave looked at me, his eyes filled with turmoil as I gripped onto his arms, feeling my heart pounding and my cheeks heating up. "I want you, Dave," I declared, reaching up to his face and wiping away the lipstick that had smeared from my lips to his. He grunted, grabbing my wrist before pressing me back against the wall, his lips finding my neck once more as he nibbled and sucked gently. I let out a little moan, caught off guard, closing my eyes. "Dave..."

"If I make it crystal clear to everyone that you're mine, will that jerk finally back off?" he growled, nipping at my neck again in a way that I knew would leave a mark. I gasped, clutching onto his shirt and shutting my eyes. "You know I'm planning to fuck you stupid all night long, right?"

"Hmm... Dave, please..." I begged, not entirely sure if I wanted him to stop or to keep going. He grunted, but pulled back, leaving me with one last kiss on my neck before stepping away, his cheeks flushed and his gaze burning with intensity.

"We should head back," he suggested, his voice low and husky, his fingers intertwining with mine. I nodded, my heart still pounding, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through me at his touch.

We made our way back to the party; Dave and I ducked into the bathrooms to freshen up before rejoining the crowd. I blushed when I caught sight of myself in the mirror: flushed cheeks, smudged lipstick, hair slightly tousled, and two distinct red marks on my neck's smooth skin. I did my best to fix my hair and makeup, dabbing at the hickeys with cold water in a vain attempt to reduce the bruises that I knew would linger for days.

I headed to the bar, grabbing a glass of water to cool down. I glanced around, searching for Dave, but he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he hadn’t left the bathroom yet. I settled at a table with a sigh, my heart still fluttering a bit.

"Your guy's a bit possessive, huh?" a voice chimed in, and I glanced up to see James with that familiar smirk on his face, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and bitterness.

"After all this time, that's your opening line?" I shot back, my tone icy. He took a seat beside me, his gaze fixating on the marks on my neck. His fingers traced the edges of the redness softly, sending a shiver down my spine.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he muttered, "You love having him under your spell. And me too," he added, lifting his gaze to meet mine, his eyes flickering with anger and something else, a mix of emotions I couldn't quite pin down, but definitely edged with desire.

"You're not even gonna say sorry? Just gonna stay there spewing out this nonsense?" I shot back, aiming for hostility but only managing to sound wounded. He scoffed, leaning in closer, his lips pressing against the bruises, kissing and biting them softly before he murmured against my skin:

"I'm sorry." Then he straightened up, leaving me stunned, heart racing and face flushed as I watched him walk away without a backward glance.

After the party wrapped up, Dave and I hopped in a taxi back to the hotel. We were quiet on the ride, his fingertips tracing little circles on my inner thigh, sending shivers up my spine. Once we got to our room, I headed to the bathroom, flicking on the tap to start filling the bathtub while Dave took his clothes off. Leaning against the door frame, I watched him kick off his shoes, feeling the buzz from the drinks at the party making me even more eager to pick up where we’d left off with that kiss.

"Are you hopping in the bath with me?" I asked, shooting Dave a coy smile as he loosened his tie. He smiled back and walked over, wrapping his arms around my waist and planting a soft kiss on my lips, while his hand fumbled for the zipper of my dress.

He paused when we heard knocks on the door. I frowned, wondering if it could be hotel staff or something. Dave sighed, annoyed, as the knocking continued.

"Better shut off the tap before we flood the room," he remarked, and I chuckled softly. "Let me handle this while you do it."

I headed into the bathroom, shutting off the tap as I listened to Dave dealing with whoever was at the door. I perked up, intrigued, when I heard a familiar voice followed by Dave's tense and irritated tone:

"You've got some guts showing up here, huh?"

I furrowed my brow, puzzled, and went back to the room, my jaw dropped in confusion when I spotted James at the door, locking eyes with Dave in a standoff.

"James?" I blurted out, taken aback, and both men turned to look at me, frustration and anger etched on both their faces. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He eyed me for a beat, tension thickening as Dave's gaze drilled into him. It was like mixing gasoline with a lit match; all of us were already worked up and intoxicated after a night of partying, and James clearly had some bones to pick with both Dave and me. James made a move to step into the room, but Dave cut him off, blocking the entrance with his arm.

"She asked you a fucking question," Dave growled, and James finally glanced at him, a sarcastic smirk creeping onto his lips.

"I came here to talk to her, not to you," James slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. Dave looked ready to snap, his free hand balling into a fist.

"Dave," I stepped in, grabbing his arm and easing it down. He turned to me, and I placed my hand on his chest. "It's alright. Let him in."

Dave sighed heavily but reluctantly moved aside, his face tight with tension, his eyes burning with anger and his lips pressed into a thin line.

"You're like her little lapdog, aren't you? Whatever she wants, you jump, just to keep her happy," James remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. I shot him a disapproving look, furrowing my brow, but before I could respond, Dave interrupted with a growl:

"And what about you, huh? You're here to grovel for her forgiveness?" Dave stepped forward, confronting James with a challenging glare. I glanced nervously between them, reaching out to touch Dave's arm in a futile attempt to calm him, but he shrugged me off. "I see the way you look at her, Hetfield. You think I don't notice? You're pathetic."

"That's the crux of it, isn't it?" James snarled. "You and I, we're cut from the same cloth. We both crave her love, her attention, hoping we'll be the lucky one she picks in this messed-up game."

"Except she already chose me," Dave shot back. "Game over. And you know I don't like sharing what's mine."

"Maybe you guys should give it a shot," I blurted out, without really thinking, eager to diffuse the tension between them, but instantly regretting it. Dave and James both turned to look at me, wearing expressions of disbelief, while I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Um... I just meant..."

"Try sharing you?" Dave chuckled, as if what I’d said was totally nonsensical. I blushed when he gently lifted my chin with his hand, locking eyes with me as he leaned in close, his words a soft whisper, "You don't even know what you're asking for, do you, sweetheart?"

"I just don't want you guys fighting," I murmured, pleadingly. "Please, Dave. You know I care about both of you."

James chuckled, shifting our focus away from each other. Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, he had that same intense look in his eyes as when we’d talked earlier — anger, jealousy, and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on at first, but then recognized: longing.

"You always play nice with everyone and it drives me fucking crazy," he remarked, moving closer and closing the door behind him. My heart raced as his hand trailed down my neck to collarbone, all while Dave kept a close eye on him. "There's no escaping this, Nore. Choosing one means hurting the other. And he's got a point." James shot a glance at Dave, who raised an eyebrow. "I'm not exactly great at sharing what's mine either. You know you can't have us both, right?"

"I know. But I don't wanna lose either of you," I admitted, feeling my cheeks heat up as James came closer with a growl, planting his lips on mine. I gasped in surprise, and he seized the moment to slip his tongue into my mouth, his hands firm on my waist. I let out a soft moan as I felt Dave's lips on my neck, planting slow kisses until he reached my ear.

"You sure about this?" he questioned, and I nodded, shutting my eyes and yielding to James' kiss, eliciting a soft growl from him as I tangled my fingers in his hair. "Didn't know you were this greedy, babe," Dave murmured, but he didn't seem upset, more like amused.

Was this really happening? It was hard to wrap my head around it, hard to think straight as the lips of the two men I loved roamed over my mouth, my neck, my skin, igniting sensations that made my whole body tingle. Dave's fingers deftly unzipped my dress.

"Talk to me," James whispered in my ear, and I shut my eyes, my lips parting slightly as I exhaled, Dave still planting kisses on my neck as he eased down my dress. "Tell me you want this, I gotta hear it from you."

"Please, I want both of you," I breathed out, and Dave tightened his grip around my waist, pulling me snug against his body while James teased my earlobe.

I let out a sigh as Dave tilted my head, locking his lips with mine, our tongues moving together while James worked on unclasping my bra and took a nipple into his mouth, giving it a playful nip before leaving small hickeys all over my soft skin. I couldn't help but moan, the sensations overwhelming me. I was completely lost in the moment, swept away by the touch of both of them. It was beyond anything I'd ever dared to dream.

James backed off a bit, his hands resting gently on my hips while Dave went back to peppering my neck with kisses, his hardness pressed against my butt. I stole a glance at James, noticing his distant gaze and flushed cheeks as he watched me, his fingers tracing my cheek softly.

"How do you pull it off? You're still perfect even when you're messing with my head," James muttered, and Dave snarled softly, leaning his head on my shoulder, their eyes locking for a moment. James' expression was hard, revealing a blend of frustration and reluctant acceptance.

"Why do you think I'm crazy about her?" Dave murmured, his lips trailing from my neck up to my jawline in a slow, deliberate path.

I sighed, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as I sensed a kind of understanding forming between the three of us, albeit slowly; Dave and James were like two sides of the same coin, always had been, brothers of fire and anger even before all their pain had driven them apart. Was it such a shocker that they'd both end up falling for the same woman? Was it such a surprise that I'd end up loving them both?

Maybe we always knew it would eventually lead to this. Maybe we’d all been waiting for this moment, a collision of stars, like waves crashing on the shore on a rainy day. It was dangerous, but exhilarating — so much so that I almost wished we wouldn't cross this line, because I knew I could never come back.

But, at least from now, it seemed good enough to be worth it.

James took a step back, loosening his shirt’s buttons and slipping it off gradually, working on undoing his pants next. I watched him, feeling a shiver run down my spine as Dave's hands caressed my breasts softly. I let out a sigh as James came closer, and reached out, my fingers tracing the edge of his underwear slowly. James grunted, grabbing my hand on his and pressing it against the outline of his erection.

"No way," Dave grunted, clutching my wrist tightly, while James arched an eyebrow. "She's mine first. You can watch," he declared, and James chuckled, rolling his eyes with a smirk. Dave wrapped his arm around my waist, pivoting me to face him, and planted a slow kiss on my lips as I unfastened his shirt.

"Is this your way of proving I'm yours?" I whispered, and he grunted against my lips. "By fucking me in front of him?"

Dave didn't say a word; he guided me to the bed, laying me down and sliding off my panties before undoing his pants and lowering them. James joined us on the bed, shedding his underwear and stretching out, placing my head on his thigh and tenderly running his fingers through my hair, his gaze fixed on my face as he caressed it. Dave finished stripping, then climbed on top of me; I shut my eyes, letting out a soft moan as he pushed into me and I felt him spread me open. James let out a low, rough sound, leisurely stroking my hair. When I looked at him, I saw he held his hard cock in his hand, jerking it softly.

I shifted my gaze to Dave, who kissed me slowly, his intense hazel eyes serious as he pushed into me. His lips moved against mine, his tongue intertwining with mine as he thrust forcefully. I let out soft moans against his mouth, tears brimming in my eyes from the pleasure of feeling him inside me.

"Dave…" I whispered, and he groaned, pulling me close, our gazes locking in a heated embrace.

I wrapped my legs around his hips, urging him to go deeper, gripping his hair tightly. James growled, tilting my face up and guiding his cock to my lips. I eagerly opened my mouth, taking him in, and he moaned softly. Dave kissed my neck, sucking on the tender skin, leaving even more bruises that sent shivers down my spine, but I didn't mind. In that moment, all I could focus on was the sensation of James and Dave, both of them, with me, together.

"Fuck," Dave whispered in my ear, his actions growing more fervent. "If I knew it felt this good to have you with an audience, I would've suggested it ages ago."

"If I knew you'd be into it, I would've brought it up sooner," I whispered back, stroking James' cock slowly with my hand and sighing when Dave started to massage my clit with his fingertips. I moaned, gripping him tightly, and he shut his eyes, thrusting into me with more vigor.

"You're almost there, aren't you?" Dave whispered, and I nodded, unable to form words. James gently brushed away the tears of ecstasy that welled in my eyes, his touch so tender it sent shivers down my spine. I took him back into my mouth, and he let out a soft groan, moving slowly as I continued to pleasure him.

I let out a long, satisfied moan, tightening around Dave as waves of pleasure washed over me, leaving me trembling and breathless. Dave groaned, his face buried in my neck as he reached his own climax, his release flooding into me with a low grunt.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I pulled James out of my mouth, my lips meeting Dave’s as he shifted beside me. He brushed the hair away from my face, planting gentle kisses along my neck and shoulders as I took James back in my mouth, meeting his gaze with a mixture of desire and satisfaction.

James tangled his fingers in my hair, guiding my movements as his hips rocked gently. His flushed face and parted lips revealed his arousal as I worked my tongue, eliciting soft sighs from him. Meanwhile, Dave's kisses grew more fervent, his hand trailing down to where my body was still slick with our fluids. His touch on my already overstimulated clit made me shiver, and I couldn't help but moan in response. James then bucked his hips forward with a moan, tightening his grip on my head, his release filling my mouth with a warmth that sent a thrill through me.

"Good girl," Dave murmured approvingly as James pulled away from my mouth, running a finger along my slightly swollen lips. I swallowed, feeling a rush of warmth and satisfaction. I turned to Dave, and he leaned in, planting slow kisses along my jawline. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment, but Dave gently cupped my face, urging me to look at him. "Don't shut your eyes, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. "We're not done with you yet."

I nodded, feeling my cheeks flush and my heart beat faster as Dave shifted away and James pulled me onto his lap, my legs wrapping around his hips as I sensed him growing hard once more. Dave let out a sigh, positioning himself behind me, his hands firmly on my waist providing support as he nibbled on my earlobe. I closed my eyes, nestling my face into James' neck and wrapping my arms around it as Dave raised my hips, allowing James to enter me with deliberate slowness.

This was gonna be a long, long night.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope @ilovepapahet @decemberm0on

[noproofread]

The Clown (NSFW)

this chase atlantic song is to blame

Buggy x afab!reader

mildly submissive Buggy, mentions of drinking, unprotected sex, bathroom sex at a bar, oral (reader receiving), p in v, praise kink if you squint, inappropriate use of chop-chop powers

word count: 1,510 im so high idk what happened lol

masterlist here

You entered the tavern, being greeted by the scent of liquor and cigarette smoke. You sat at the bar, spotting a loud clown pirate at the end of the room. He was drunkenly singing with a group of men, wobbling atop a table he stood on. He was funny, bold, you liked it. His stubble peeked through his face paint, his lipstick was smudged and his long blue hair was in a messy ponytail. You ordered your drink, a cherry vodka sour, and proceeded to watch the flashy pirate. He must’ve felt your gaze because he locked eyes with you. He eyed you up and down, eyes trailing every curve on your body. The drunk smile on his face fell, being replaced by a playful and sinister smirk. It was like he was no longer your prey, you were his.

The drink you had ordered arrived, you broke the intense eye contact to thank the bartender and take a sip. The sweet liquid washed down your tongue, you closed your eyes to fully taste the cherry flavor. He watched as the red colored cocktail passed your lips. He admired the way your lips hugged the rim of the glass, thinking of how those lips would look around him. To the clown, you were captivating. The way you carried yourself, he didn’t need to know you to know you were confident, bold, flashy. You opened your eyes, looking back over at him. You winked at him as you took the cherry in your mouth, slowly eating the fruit off its stem. His breath hitched, watching you in awe, imagining the taste of that cherry on your lips.

You saw him walk towards you and you smiled to yourself. He found a seat next to you, gesturing to the bartender for two drinks. “I’m Buggy.” He introduced himself, leaning towards you to say it in your ear. “Well hello there Buggy~” You greeted him back, taking another sip of your drink while maintaining eye contact with him. “I saw you looking at me. You can’t be looking at men like that.” He said, his eyes jumped between your eyes and your lips. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” You teased, leaning over to Buggy’s ear. “What are you gonna do about it?” you whispered. A shudder traveled through Buggy’s body. Your heart was racing as you felt your arousal pool at the bottom of your stomach. Buggy felt his chest get hot as his head grew cloudy. His hand grabbed your wrist, keeping you in place as he got close to you.

You felt his breath mere centimeters from your lips. “You really wanna know what I wanna do?” He sucked air through his teeth, letting the tension build between you as he kept his very short distance from your lips. Your eyes were glued to his lips, practically begging for him to kiss you. His mere presence was intoxicating. He smirked, he knew what he was doing. “Why don't you tell me what you want me to do instead?” He whispered against your lips. Your body felt hot and it became hard to breathe. You gulped, looking into his eyes. Your teeth grazed your bottom lip as you sighed. Feeling the liquor course through your body, it became harder to think. “Why don't we go back to yours and we’ll talk about it there?” The words fell from your lips before you could stop them. The clown raised an eyebrow, taken aback by your offer. He got up, shot a quick glance at the group of men he was with, and took your hand.

He couldn't wait long enough to get to his house, instead he opted to pull you into the door to the bathroom. He locked the door behind you, caging you in against the door as he desperately met your lips. He tasted of liquor and his stubble was rough against your face. Buggy kissed you hungrily, the neediness he was exuding dulled your senses. Your hands were wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you as his tongue explored your mouth. A muffled groan escaped his lips as he pressed himself against you. You felt his growing arousal in his pants. You wrapped one hand around in his hair and tugged it.

Buggy hissed, pulling away from your lips as you pulled on his hair. His eyes met yours, his gaze was dark with lust. Your eyes traveled down to his pants and back up to his eyes, commanding him to take them off without uttering a word. Buggy’s eyes widened, immediately following your order. You smirked, watching him scramble around to take his clothes off. He was almost adorable. You walked towards him, placing your palm on the hardened bulge beneath his boxers. Buggy winced, moaning softly at the contact.

You leaned into his ear as you moved your hand slowly. “You’re gonna be good for me right?” You whispered, earning a low groan from the clown. You kissed his ear, slowly trailing kisses over to his lips. You bit his bottom lip as a tease, meeting his eyes. Buggy was practically begging, pupils dilated as they looked at you with a mixture of infatuation and hunger. He wanted you, he wanted you to use him, he wanted to please you. You felt your arousal coat your undergarments. He was pathetically beautiful. You slowly took off your bottoms, never breaking eye contact. The bulge in Buggy’s pants grew and a bead of precum had dampened his boxers. “Fuck~” he whispered under his breath. You giggled lightly, making your way to him.

“Lay down.” You requested.

Your tone had authority, he did exactly as he was told. His skin made contact with the cold tile of the bathroom, he flinched slightly as he looked up at you. You smiled looking down at him. You didn’t know where you wanted to start. You got down, hovering over him. You straddled him, feeling the hardness of his arousal quiver beneath you. Buggy bucked his hips into yours, craving something. “How precious. I’m afraid it’s not time for that yet.” You spoke gently, placing a small kiss on his nose before whispering, “I want to feel your tongue first.” Buggy gulped as a heat spread throughout his body. You smiled, crawling towards his face.

You straightened up your spine, looking down at Buggy’s eyes beneath you. Slowly you lowered yourself, feeling his hands wrap around your thighs. Buggy gave you a long lick, you moaned loudly. Gauging your reaction, Buggy kissed your inner thighs, with every kiss leaving behind a stream of fire on your skin. “Buggy” You pleaded. His lips gave your clit a kiss before he began lapping and sucking as if he’d been walking the desert for years and yearned for water. His nose hit your clit with every lick, it was making you dizzy. You bent forward, taking fistfuls of his blue hair that covered the floor beneath you. The mewling noises that escaped you only got louder as he continued. “Fuck me Buggy” You panted, unaware of the pirate’s abilities.

Suddenly you felt a warm, hard, big, tease your entrance. You looked back to see Buggy’s dick pleading for attention. Now made aware of his special talents, you laughed to yourself. The possibilities. “You’re so talented, Buggy… Show me what you can do.” You giggled, unable to contain your excitement. You felt him slowly enter you. He stretched you deliciously, you gasped as you felt him twitch inside you. He sucked air through his teeth, moaning softly as he felt you wrap around him. He thrusted into you at a steady pace while his tongue played with your clit. You threw your head back, fully losing yourself in the feeling. You bucked your hips forward with every trust, feeling a knot form in your stomach as his steady pace grew faster.

Lewd sounds filled the air as you both chased a mutual high. “So good, Buggy. You feel so good~” you strained out, unable to sound normal as your stomach tightened. Buggy moaned against your core, sending vibrations through your body. Your vision turned white as you climaxed, your walls clamping down on Buggy as he pumped into you. You rode out your high as Buggy reached his own. You felt filled up with the hot sticky substance that he was spouting inside you. You gasped for air, slowly rolling off of his face. Buggy sat up, his dick back in its place. “You’re just full of surprises huh?” You joked. “I have so much more where that came from.” He eyed you, biting his bottom lip. His makeup had been sweated off, only a tinge of red remained on his lips. You leaned over, kissing him deeply. There was no desperation behind it but the whisper of mutual lust and desire was ever present. “I want to know all your secret techniques Mr. Buggy the Clown.” You whispered against his lips. A smirk formed on his face as he winked at you. “And you will.”

[toomuchracket]

pre-dating idea, the bday party friendship group all doing a "blind date with a book" night and everyone gets assigned another person to choose a book for that they think they'll enjoy. obviously, matty and girlie get each other, and they have to explain why they chose that book, and it just proves how much they really notice and care about each other

i love this i'm obsessed with it and actually it got me thinking... what if you got each other the same book by complete coincidence? also like as THE literary girly of all time and the friend group, i reckon you'd be the one planning the whole shindig - your flat isn't huge, but it's alright, because that means the book presentation evening will be cosy lol, and a month before the actual get-together you "pulled names from a hat" to allocate who was choosing for who, which is code for You chose strategically partially because you wanted to see what would happen when you paired frankie and enya, because they're so different, and partially because you'd be damned if anyone else got to buy matty a book lmao. anyway! once the teams are picked and shared, he messages the gc like "excited but also lowk scared. i've got to pick WELL lol" and texts you privately like "fr i can't wait to pick you something, darling. thank you for planning this, it'll be really fun!", and it makes you GIDDY. the whole thing does, actually, buying him a book and wrapping it and leaving your reasoning on the cover and then having a drink with him in your kitchen before the gifting part of the hangout. it's so fun to see what your friends all chose for each other - some choices are funny, some serious, but all are thoughtful - and have a laugh, and the excitement fizzing in your stomach when it reaches your and matty's turn is just as good; it briefly fizzles into panic when you open the package to see the exact same copy of crying in h mart that you bought him, but as soon as you look into those pretty eyes of his you can't stop giggling at the coincidence. neither can matty - he just leans over to hug you like "i can't believe that. maybe we know each other TOO well, darling, christ", and you return it like "we're mental. s'amazing". and while the book choice is the same, the reasoning is slightly different; yours was because you thought he would enjoy reading about a musician using another form/skill to process their emotion (in the book's case, cooking), and his was because he thought you would enjoy reading about how identity is shaped through the gaps in language and culture as much as those things themselves AND the hard things we experience in life (idk i am spitballing here), and you were both right about the other being interested in that. bless him, he's genuinely apologetic when you find each other in the kitchen again later, offering to replace the book with another, but you just put a finger on his lips (he goes internally insane at this) and shake your head like "nah, this one's perfect. and i was thinking - we could do a buddy read of it sometime, if you'd like, discuss it together as we go, maybe annotate each other's copies", and matty actually swears he's never been more up for anything ever in his life. a private book club, just the two of you? your handwriting on his books forever? he's lovesick i fear. yeah, i love this whole idea <3

[wtfgaylittlezooid]

Saw your Bug!Vicagent.

... could you please give us some more tidbits of them in your Au? Because I've been staring at that post since you posted it lol-

I'm so normal about them /j

Sure! :DD I don't have any references for them on hand, but these two images show their designs pretty decently.

Agent is a pretty rare case of a tall dragonfly, so he's one of the lucky few bug species who can still fly.

Victim is a very special case: a cordyceps fungus in a locust host. Cordyceps are pretty rare, and locusts are just as rare. Locusts aren't born, they are triggered. Usually from a grasshopper or cricket, after going through an extreme trauma they become locusts, but the only locusts discovered are dead. Victim is no different.

Cordyceps are also pretty weird. Most cordyceps simply take the body and woe. zombug be upon ye. However, ancient Roaches wanted to try and replicate immortality and thus began the kidnapping of other bugs and experimenting on different species and themselves with cordyceps. It IS possible for somebody to live on thanks to the fungus, as the fungus can take and hold memories rather than replacing them. Only thing is, those cases tend to be artificial due to the extremely specific requirements

That being magic and a strong body. Poison and Ice are the easiest kinds of magic to work with, and one of the few species that can physically handle the cordyceps and magic without overloading the fungus are moths.

Victim got lucky. He was Alan's first little experiment when he discovered that bugs come from little larvas and eggs and if he grows his own bug then he can have endless entertainment. Victim couldn't fight back well against Gammas or whatever other Deadlanders Alan threw at him, but Alan is observant. He knows bugs use roach crystals to heal by hitting them. So he basically impales Victim alive with a crystal and murders him lmao

Cordyceps finds Victim's body and attaches to it, and he got lucky enough to where the tiny shards of crystal stuck in his system was just enough for the fungus to hold his memories and self. So victim basically becomes the fungus.

BUT THAT IS STILL NOT GOOD. It was sheer luck and because hes not even a moth the connection is pretty unstable. In a strong bond, there would be no worry about reverting to the zombie-like state, but since his connection is so unstable it can get triggered.

On the bright side, this makes him a living magic detector. Its how he finds one of the shards of the Wasp King's crown so easily, which allows him to brainwash Chosen One. On the ugly side, you get this:

This happens after Victim tries and fails to kill Alan. He basically gets really pissed that Alan doesn't want to kill him anymore, that he isnt even trying to fight back, and starts mentally spiraling because of it. He compares himself to the other Hollows which are all sorcerers and have magic, and chalks up his failure and lack of control over the situation to that lack of magic.

So to fix that he basically ditches everyone and goes to Snakemouth Den, aka the original lab where the Roaches experiment cause goddamn that place is potent with it you can literally see it in the air. Basically goes there and something something recreating the events of trauma so you can control the outcome, smashes a shit ton of the crystals into smaller shards.

Agent brings the color gang into this (the only mercenary who knows about vics situation) because he had a feeling shit would go wrong and boy was he right. Victim drives the crystals through his exo-skeleton and

he does it. he gets poison magic. but he still gets knocked down easily so rinse and repeat of him attacking, getting beat, healing by impaling with a crystal, and so on. But yeah the more magic he siphons from the roach crystals the more it makes the fungus kinda lose it and slowly but surely the grip the fungus has on his memories and self starts slipping and the instincts from the fungus and the sentience starts getting blurred. Yeah sorry victim in your obsession and greed for control for others you lost control of yourself

Basically a boss fight at that point, feral zombie vic vs his loyal lapdog of a bug and 5 children. At first its just operating off of the instinct of getting them OUT of the territory, but he also burns through the magic really quickly which means he needs more and oh look at that cute little bee hes full of magic. Basically a stalling game of blocking off the exist and making sure he doesnt rip the crystal stuck in seconds head out.

Eventually they win and after a quick revive from Second, an unconscious victim gets carried to an inn by Agent and everyone leaves the caves that day with so much trauma yippeeee

[swiftllama]

Oct/Nov Compliments ☀️🔍

[Compliments Masterlist]

Hey guys! And we’re back for another two months of compliments! So let’s get into it :-

October 2023

Forbes Article

So to start off the month the boys done an interview with Jon Youshaei for Forbes and also an office tour. It would be later in the month we would get the full 2hr interview, but first we got the article that included excerpts from said interview, including these :-

Anthony being a softie for their friendship as always. Relatable.

This isn’t the first time they’ve mentioned about how the way they work and ‘fit’ together, they’ve never found in anyone else. I covered it in my first Compliments Post, both during Anthony’s interview with Ian and at Vidcon, they’ve each said similar things. And I love how they recognise that, and how truly special their bond is and something that can never be replaced or replicated.

The second quote of Anthony’s - GAWD my heart! I know he didn’t explicitly say it, but that quote basically boils down to ‘we’re two really close friends who love each other.’ 😭❤️

Anthony Reacts To “Where’s Anthony” Jokes

So this video, whilst funny, was pretty sad. I don’t know if it was just me, but I thought Ian seemed particularly quiet during it and like he was just trying to get through the reaction as quick as possible without dwelling on the clips long. I have said before, but I think the reasoning for his quietness may be down to the fact the ‘where’s Anthony?’ jokes held the most emotions for Ian than anyone else. Whilst he did join in on the jokes at times, there was much more behind it than when the others would make the jokes. In the reaction video they do make reference a couple times about how the jokes affected Ian, which I shall go into, some of it ties into being complimentary :-

[watching clip of two boys doing a tiktok trend and make reference to Anthony leaving]

Anthony: “I mean, that was a 10. Those guys- that joke was amazing. And you [Ian] took it like a champ, all things considered.”

Arasha: “Yeah, 10 for you too, Ian.”

I love them acknowledging how the jokes could of affected Ian but he always handled it well, regardless.

-

[watching clip of Shayne answering that Ian and Anthony are the best ship]

Anthony: “We are a good ship. I’ve read the fanfictions.”

Ian: “Oh yeah, the ship’s great. That ship’s sailing. It’s been sailing for a decade.”

Even they acknowledge it 😏😌

-

[watching clip of Ian pretending to be himself from the past talking to his future self and asking “how’s Anthony?”]

Anthony: “That one kind of made me a little sad.”

Ian: “Awww. Yeah.”

Anthony: “Yeah, cause I’m like thinking back to you actually in 2008 being all stoked about me being part of it.”

Ian: “About all our adventures and be like, “How’s Anthony?” and it’s like “awww”.”

Anthony: “Yeah, I give that one a 10. That was commitment.”

I’m fine. This is fine. Not crying at all…..

Anthony being sad imagining young Ian so excited about them working together and how it would hurt him knowing what happened between them 🥺😭

I like that Anthony gave him a 10 and acknowledged his commitment to the bit, just wish it didn’t have it be for something so sad 😩

-

[watching clip of Ian joking that Anthony was coming back and they would be getting rid of everyone at Smosh and Anthony laughs a lot at the clip]

Anthony: “That was good! That was a good one. That definitely caught Courtney and Damien off guard.” [laughs]

Arasha: “I liked it. Just convinced that they don’t have their jobs anymore. That is good.”

Anthony: “That was a good threat. Yeah. Got ‘em.” [highfives for jokingly threatening your employees lol]

-

[watching clip of Ian in a sketch saying “I should’ve left with Anthony.”]

Anthony: [laughs] “That was good! That’s good. That was a 10.”

Courtney: “That was improv.”

Anthony: “That was improvised?!”

Courtney: “It was.”

Ian: “Oh yeah.”

Anthony: [shocked/surprised face] “Really? Damn, no, that was really good.”

-

[watching clip of Shayne wearing an emo-style wig in a video and Ian saying “Woah, it’s like he never left.”]

Anthony: [laughing and banging hand on table] “That was just a 10. I like it because you didn’t even say the name. You just said ‘he’.”

Notice the pattern of Anthony giving Ian 10s 😌

-

[watching clip from Ian’s funeral roast where he tells Courtney after Anthony left she “stepped up and became the new person who shuts down every single idea [he] has”]

Anthony: “Damn, that was good. There was a lot there. I mean, obviously solid 10.”

Arasha: “There was some tension that was let out right then.”

Shayne: “Only excuse we have there is that we were drunk. That was our drunk live.”

Anthony: [to Ian] “Which is kind of funny though because when we’ve talked, you’ve talked about how I amp up your jokes and encourage you.”

Dads are fighting…😳🫢

But aside from the joking bit of tension of that moment I just want to acknowledge what Anthony said, about how he amps up and encourages Ian and that Ian does recognise that.

-

Got a little Ian compliment towards the end of the video too :-

Ian: [patting Anthony’s shoulder] “Anthony, we’re glad you’re here. And we know where you are.”

Anthony: “Awww… Thank you.

-

At the end of the video Shayne says how they’ll never make another ‘Where’s Anthony?’ joke again, and jokingly says unless he gets lost at some point. Anthony agrees, and then just to be a menace, jokes about them saying it again if he “leaves again permanently” 😩🤬

Ian: [acting panicked] “I can’t go through this again.”

There was then this little sweet moment of Anthony comforting Ian by rubbing his back 🥹

(credit to @ianthoni for the gif)

Anthony: “We don’t want to see that sadness under Ian’s eyes again.”

Ian: “No, never.”

Anthony: “Not anymore. We like happy Ian. He’s back.”

Anytime they bring up how happy Ian is now that Anthony’s back it makes me want to cry 🥹

I love you so much Grandpa #2

So Anthony went to Prague to get more tattoos, and what gift did he bring back for Ian? Covid. Anyways, they’d missed the previous members livestream since Anthony was away and so promised an extended one in this tweet :-

It’s more complimentary-by-extension but the little ‘I love you so much’ I feel could be very accurate to how Anthony’s reaction will have been irl of feeling guilty for giving only Ian covid. Especially given the reactions we have seen on video of them acting sus about it all, or Ian half-jokingly acting annoyed and staring at Anthony when it’s brought up and Anthony acting like he doesn’t know how they got it. A few examples :- (x)(x)(x)

Dixon Cider - Flashback w/ Smosh

In this Flashback they had to take a sip of Dixon Cider everytime they done something sexy in the music video.

Anthony: “Wait. Wait. I know I shouldn’t keep pausing, but what are you doing in the background of this shot?”

Ian: “I’m just vibing, dude. I’m just vibing. You know I should take a drink because I look pretty good there.”

Anthony: “You were sexing it up.”

👀 …okay, Anthony…

-

[Reacting to the breakdown part of the song]

Ian: “Sexy. I’m going to-” [takes a sip]

Anthony: “You know I’m gonna take a swig for that too.”

-

[Song lyrics: “I love Dixon Cider and I will ‘til the day that I die.”]

Anthony: “…Let’s do a 10 year check in. Do you still love Dixon Cider to this day? Do you think that you will until the day that you die?”

Ian: [stares at Anthony] “…Yeah.”

Anthony: “I’m gonna take a swig for that. That’s sexy.”

This video just became Anthony calling Ian sexy and I’m not mad about it.

2hr Interview

Finally the interview came 🙌

It covered a lot of the things we already knew. But of course through talking about these things we’re always bound to get compliments and that’s exactly what we got :-

[talking about how many projects they had whilst under Defy and how Anthony puts all his effort and passion into everything, whereas Ian’s focus was more on sketches and the creative side of things]

Ian: “For me, like, there was just certain things that I wasn’t that interested in so I didn’t really pour that much of my time into, but Anthony like doesn’t know how to not put all of his heart into something. So I think that’s what really just spread you thin.”

Anthony: “Yeah. I think it’s a good thing that you kept your energy in one place where it really showed. You having so much of your energy and placing it in the places that were more visible, the YouTube sketches, those videos are some of our most viewed videos on the channel. You know, 30, 40, 50, 60 million views on those videos. While I was putting all of my heart into all these projects that now I’m like ‘Do people even remember that comic book that we made?’ ‘Do people even remember the games that we made?’.”

One thing I really loved about this interview was the back and forth of compliments to one another. Really pointing out how they recognise each other’s strengths in their unique ways. As the quote above stated, Ian recognises how Anthony puts his all into everything and yes maybe it doesn’t always serve himself in the best way, but it shows just how much he cares about every aspect when it comes to Smosh. And that in no way discredits Ian’s care, it actually works so well when paired with Anthony’s dynamic that Ian focuses his efforts more on where he knows his strengths are and that is going to make the most impact. Which again, is one of the many reasons as to why they do mesh so well together.

Speaking of their dynamic, it’s something Anthony later brings up :-

Anthony: “…Something about just our two personalities just click really well and I think every single thing needed to happen exactly the way that it did for it to end up the way that it did, but the friendship specifically it needed to, we needed to completely separate ourselves from each other and almost find each other by what almost feels like by accident.”

Something about that line - “finding each other by accident” makes me all gooey inside 🥹 the fact they had to rediscover each other and have came out the other side with a newfound appreciation and so much love for each other is so heartwarming.

-

Jon: “I feel like you guys are both Pokémon who evolved.”

[I&A discussing who they would be]

Ian: “I guess I’m Charmander, maybe.”

Anthony: “Yeah? You Charizard now?

Ian: “I feel kind of Charizard now. I need to like work on my upper body strength a little bit more.”

Anthony: “But you do bring the fire.”

This was just a fun little one I felt I had the include! Especially with the reference to ‘fire’, which is something a lot of us have talked about in regards to Anthony calling Ian the sun, and also his incorporation of the word in his tattoos.

-

Anthony: [talking about how Ian had invited him to collab with Smosh but he never wanted to whilst they were under Defy and that he didn’t want to come back if he would have just been an employee]

Ian: “I mean at that point like I, especially cause I had reached out and been like ‘hey we should collab’, and Anthony was always very polite…”

Anthony: [laughs]

Ian: “…but would decline. So I think at that point I had totally resigned myself to thinking that like, you know Anthony doesn’t have any interest in being in Smosh again.”

Anthony: “Did you ever take any of that personally?

Ian: “Umm…”

Anthony: “I always tried to word it in a way where you knew it wasn’t about you.”

Ian: “Yeah, no, I don’t think I ever took it personally. I think I was always like frustrated…”

Anthony: [laughs]

Ian: “…because I was like, this is, ‘we could get views man!’. It was always like-“

Anthony: “Yeah, I was almost like I don’t want to give Defy views like, it sucks though that you, obviously Smosh, it was like I didn’t mind necessarily giving the views to Smosh, but like to Defy and it’s just like a shitty situation because you were obviously under the umbrella of Defy. But you know through that whole process, Ian and I connected a little bit, but I was really kind of just observing from the outside and it was wild to witness this, I still harboured a lot of resentment towards Smosh because of all the Defy stuff, and part of me was like ‘dang, this brand that Ian and I built is just totally on its own like- not on its own, but like it’s just doing stuff that I have no, I’m not a part of it at all, it’s just like this amorphous thing that’s just like evolving, but I will say from the outside I was, I was really impressed with how Ian helmed that ship and making sure that- I was really appreciative too, that Smosh didn’t just end up going to some company that just picked it apart and sold all of our assets, sold our logo to be used in some you know way, god knows what, and then you know the content just starts showing up in all these different ways and it’s all chopped up and bastardised.”

Ian: “Like we now get to do the chopping up and bastardisation.”

Anthony: “Yeah, that’s our- that’s my god damn right! Um… but you know also I got to see Ian step up as a leader in many ways and decide on the creative direction and at a certain point I feel like you know because Ian you were so like [shrugs] ‘well you know we’re pretty [mumbles]’, like I don’t know, I think that kind of sums up the way that you kind of uh [laughs] thought about the leadership [shrugs and mumbles again giving an impression of Ian’s nonchalantness towards the leadership role], and I think that was one of the things that silently frustrated me that I never openly spoke about. I was like, ‘I wish you had more of an opinion, more of a drive to creatively, you know to see this go in the direction that you see creatively’, so when I saw from the outside Ian taking this lead and having you know opinions that he put his foot down on and leading this entire cast and elevating everyone for their strengths and also showing up himself as a host, and a leader, and a boss… and a daddy.”

Ah shit, here we go again…

The daddy thing aside, what Anthony said about watching Ian step up into that leadership role from the outside is something he’s spoken about many times and will forever be something I love. Just that recognition of the role Ian had to play for Smosh to be exactly where that is now. I love that it’s something he continually brings up and as stated in the quote above, tells Ian how he appreciates the fact he stayed with Smosh and the hard work he put in so that they could once again own what is rightfully theirs.

Anthony: “…I think that was one thing that really made me interested in the prospect of coming back in and joining forces again. I think there was a while, especially because we didn’t communicate, where I felt like if I did come back in like ‘it would all be up to me again’ and I would have to figure everything out and you know Ian wouldn’t necessarily have the input because he’s so grateful for just being there in the first place that he wouldn’t necessarily want to put his foot down but I saw that would be something that you would take, you know help me take the lead on and it’s been really cool coming back together and feeling like we are two entities who are completely on the same page with everything but also we can separate from each other every once and a while and take our own lead in doing things working towards the same goal, but I didn’t feel like it was all on my shoulders anymore, Ian had, you were forced into that position, and you were forced to learn very quickly, but you did, and now we’re able to run this thing as a duo who also have independent ideas and you know creatively are able to put our foot down where it needs to.”

-

Jon: [asks why Anthony decided to come back despite having his own success independently]

Anthony: [talks about seeing old clips of their sketches online and how he had resigned himself to thinking their old content was only good because of the nostalgia making him imagine it fondly] “…but watching the clips I was like ‘wait, our writing…’ , there was obviously a lot of shitty stuff, but our writing at times was really, really solid and our, the chemistry we had together off-camera and on-camera was really strong, and we fit together in this way where we kind of balanced each other out and we were able to create stuff that was really, really solid that I hadn’t found in anyone else separately. I’d found also that Ian you told me you also realised the same thing, that the way that we work together is kind of like this magical combination that we haven’t really found anywhere else.”

They make me fucking SOB 😭 I cannot resist when they talk about their connection with one another and the chemistry they have together, and how it’s something they’ve never found in anyone else. It’s so special. THEY WERE MADE FOR EACH OTHER!

-

Ian: [talking about how they want to make content they believe in and not just to make money and how their focus now is quality over quantity]

Anthony: [agrees and talks about how their approach is on being excited about the content itself and what viewers would most love to see rather than thinking of only pleasing the inventors like it was in the past with Defy]

Jon: “Yeah, it’s amazing how, I mean feelings matter when it comes to a creative business.”

Anthony: “Yeah, especially when you’re operating from a creative place, you know it’s not, we’re not just in the operations of the business, in fact I think it’s really good that we are, you know our faces are attached to it, our creative endeavours are fully public, our friendship is public. All these things, you know I feel like if all these things weren’t fully visible I could see some world where I’m like well, you know operating from a place of like ‘we’re just investors’, but I’m really glad that we, we’re in the same position now that we were in when we first started, which is us being two really, really close friends who love making each other laugh, love spending time together, love creating stuff together, love capturing the magic that we feel when we’re hanging out together and enjoying our time together and displaying that for other people to enjoy as well.”

Oh look, it’s me crying again 😩

I know I already included this quote earlier in this post, but of course had to touch on it again. It truly was just a roundabout way of Anthony saying ‘we’re two really, really close friends who love each other.’ But also talking about how they feel it’s ‘magic’ when they’re together and how they want to share that with others 🥹😭

-

Ian: [talks about how great the efficiency of the Smosh office space is]

Anthony: “It’s really cool, we almost have a blank slate to build out this place and make it work perfectly for exactly what we need and when we have multiple other channels; we have Smosh Pit, which is the channel where a group of people, you know we have a cast of really incredible people that helped in many ways keep the Smosh brand alive while I was gone, and you know Ian you helped elevate all of these really talented people and performers.”

A little 2 for 1 compliment from Anthony there, both for the cast and for Ian, of course. Again, something he’s mentioned before and think it’s really great how much he recognises everyone’s efforts in keeping Smosh going as well as Ian’s.

-

[I&A alking about their writing process]

Anthony: “I’ll be sitting there with the laptop writing out all our ideas. We’ll kind of be, lately because this is this very early stages, we’ll go back through some of our old videos, I’m like ‘here I really like that one element of this old sketch, this kind of idea’ and it’s usually like us going head to head on something, us working together to solve a problem, us going against some kind of like- us joining forces to go against some kind of evil thing, or us like trying to one up each other, and mess with each other, and ruin each other’s day, like we’ll figure out one kind of a through-line for the plot and then we just start throwing out a bunch of ideas. But I’ll start writing it out and then Ian will, he always gets, like actually the thing that always happens is Ian goes [imitates Ian’s laugh] ‘this is a really stupid idea’ and I’m like ‘what is it?’ [fakes typing] and I’m ready to type it out and he tells me the idea and it’s usually really, really funny, and if it’s not then I usually get an idea, I’m like ‘okay, I see where you’re going with that but I don’t think that works because of this, I think that we could go somewhere down here’ and I think that the interesting part of that process is it doesn’t ever seem like any of us is just like ‘no, that’s stupid’ or anything like that…”

Again, another thing Anthony continually brings up is the “stupid” (according to Ian) ideas that Ian throws out. Which are something he’s mentioned being his favourite, and how those are the ones he’s always most excited/intrigued for.

Anthony: [continues on about their writing process and how he’s in charge of the formatting and feels he’s good at picking out which ideas work and which don’t]

Ian: “Yeah, and I think some people would get- could get frustrated at something like that but I think Anthony and I have a specific shorthand, and I think we understand each other in a way that we never other found creative partners that quite clicked with us like we do in the time that we were apart. I feel like I didn’t quite, I felt like I was kind of like operating at like 70% and I never, like I still had great people that I was working with and really, really funny people that I was working with, but I never felt like I was contributing at a level that I should’ve been, that I can with Anthony.”

Once more them bringing up this connection with one another that they’ve never found with anyone else. I’ve said it so many times, but it’s so special. And Ian and Anthony realise how special it is.

-

Jon: [asks if the change in the algorithm is something they think about when writing jokes that could ruin monetisation for them and how they protect themselves against that]

Anthony: “Yeah, every once and a while we run into something where we’re like ‘that’s pushing it a little bit’ and what we do because we have the backup of having memberships, it gives us a little bit of leeway to be like ‘but that’s the funniest joke.’ But I think it’s actually really interesting and one thing that Ian and I do really well, is we work really well with limitations, like the more limited something gets, as long as I have freedom within that limitation, I think that our stuff gets really strong. In the early days we were literally making things out of cardboard, we created you know that Boxman character because we didn’t have any budget all we had was- we were looking around for props in my bedroom and we have this cardboard box there, like we work really well within like confined spaces and every once and a while it’s like ‘oh that joke it’s kind of pushing it in a way that might not really do well, it could get the video just like- not even just demonetised but blacklisted and like then the audience doesn’t even see it’ and we’re like ‘is there a funnier way to do this that still works?’ and 9 times out of 10 we think of a funnier idea that I’m like ‘if I were given these two options I would choose this one anyway’ so it doesn’t feel like a compromise, it feels like a bonus.”

You know I live for the individual compliments they give to one another, but every so often we get these compliments where they compliment themselves as well as the other and I love it because it goes back to their dynamic again and how well they work together to solve issues as a team.

-

[I&A watch old news clip of them from 2006 when they were creating the first Food Battle]

Anthony: “… but it was so cool, you know that was, that literally showed where the first videos that we ever made happened; It was in my bedroom at my mom’s house, and that is what our life was like, just sitting there on the computer getting excited about ideas and I think Ian was the one that suggested the ‘2006’, you know so I was there implementing these ideas and I would have a great time editing these things and learning how to edit in the process and Ian would, because he wasn’t editing, his brain was free to come up with all these insane ideas and he was like ‘oh do 2006 and have it crash together!’ and then I learned how to make the graphics come on-screen and like all these explosions and sound effects and I think that showed the dynamic between us, of me sitting there implementing these ideas and finding a way to one-up or guide some of the ideas, throw out the stuff that didn’t work super well, telling him like ‘I think we could do better with that one’ and Ian just sitting there and spitballing ideas and it’s just really cool to see that.”

And again, more talk of their dynamic. It’s definitely one of the things they recognise most about their connection with each other, and how it balances them and the way they work out so perfectly.

-

Jon: “The number 6 seems to be really important in your journey.”

[I&A laugh]

Jon: “I don’t know what is up with that, but 2005 you guys uploaded your first video. 2011, 6 years later, you sold. 6 years after that, 2017, you [Anthony] left. 6 years later, you guys bought it back. And I think it was 6 years and 6 days to the date, when I was looking at it…”

Anthony: “For the announcement? Yeah.”

Jon: “For the announcement.”

Anthony: “None of those things were planned to be 6 years. It just was.”

Ian: “Was it in June too?”

Anthony: “Yup.”

Ian: “Sixth month.”

Yes!! I was so excited when this was brought up! Gonna refer you guys back to this post I made about Angel Numbers. Know it’s not the type of thing everyone believes in, but I don’t think anyone can deny there is a pattern there with them and the number 6. And it’s something they notice themselves too.

-

Anthony: [talking about comments of people finding that same joyful absurdity in Smosh sketches again that they felt when they were kids] “I think a lot of us got kind of trapped in this cycle of looking at really dark content for a long time, and we started to feel like the world was a dark and scary place and just kind of feel shitty, and creating this stuff and consuming this type of content I hope it can help remind people that there is a little bit of light in the world, and capturing, like having that special dynamic with a friend, or with a group of friends is really special.”

“having that special dynamic with a friend” just wanted to point out that he looked over at Ian when he said this 🥹

And with one last reiteration of their special dynamic, that brought us to the end of the interview.

Submissive and Breedable

Yes. It is time to talk about ‘that’ moment. And don’t tell me there wasn’t something complimentary in it! That’s why I’m including it. Anyways, yes, Anthony called Ian “submissive and breedable” 🫠

You’ve all probably seen the clip by now but just to provide the context anyways. In the BTS they’re sitting on the couch together and Ian jokes about not being able to get up :-

Ian: “I’m almost 40, I can barely get up. Help… help… help…”

Anthony: “You’re on your own.” [laughs] “Why do you look so submissive and breedable right now?”

I hate him, I really do (affectionate) 🤦‍♀️

So yeah, that was a thing that happened… 👀

Stuck In A Toilet - Flashback w/ Smosh

After a week of Twitter shenanigans (x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x) (x) and a roundabout way of promoting Food Battle, we got another eps of Flashback. This is when they were beginning to get sick but I don’t think realised they had covid yet. Anthony wasn’t too bad but Ian was sneezing and yawning throughout it. The one little complimentary moment I wanted to include was from one of those moments where Ian yawned and Anthony reached over to rub his shoulder which was very sweet ☺️ I actually posted the clip here for anyone interested.

-

Another small little moment that I took as complimentary happened towards the end of the video was them discussing their old hairstyles and Ian was asked whether he’d ever bring the bowl back and he said that he doesn’t think his hair has the same thickness so he doesn’t think he’d be able to achieve it. He then tries to style his hair back into a bowl :-

Anthony: “Oh shit, he’s doing it! He’s doing it!”

Ian: “My hair’s pretty long right now.”

Anthony: “Yeah, you can do it. I really think you’d be able to rock it just the same.”

Just love how Anthony’s always bigging him up to make him feel more confident LIKE YES! YOU TELL HIM ANTHONY!

Extended Livestream

So this livestream was to make up for the few that they’d missed. They had a lot to cover, including the “submissive and breedable” moment :-

[chat comment: ‘Is Ian looking submissive and breedable right now?’]

Anthony: [looks Ian up and down] “Yes.”

Ian: “You think so? Aw, shoot.”

Anthony: “Yes, he really do be looking submissive and breedable right now.”

Anthony needs to relax, I swear 😩 (we love it tho)

-

[reacting to Ian pulling out a hammer in the Cursed Magic 8 Ball sketch]

Anthony: “This was such a random moment. This was definitely an Ian joke, I love it though.”

He truly loves that boy’s humour so much, it’s one of his most favourite things about him ☺️

-

[talking about Anthony’s hideout in the sketch]

Anthony: “The secret hideout looked cozy as fuck.”

Ian: “Yeah, dude. It was hot as hell in there too, right?”

Anthony: “It was hot though, yeah, cause there were lights obviously. So these Christmas lights were not LED so they were producing a lot of heat and uh, my body, quite warm…”

Ian: “Cause you’re, submissive and breedable…”

Anthony: “Yes. Yes, Ian.”

THEYRE SO ANNOYING 😩 just had to include this moment since the shoe was on the other foot and it was Ian’s turn to call Anthony the now infamous quote.

-

[chat comment: Ian’s gone from looking like a depressed middle-aged dad to super happy and sparkling]

Anthony: “Awww, you’re sparkling.”

That’s right Anthony! And it’s all because of you 🥹 he lets him Bejeweled ✨

-

[signing out the livestream and Ian says he still has covid brain because he can’t get his word out]

Anthony: [talking about seeing everyone in the next livestream] “And until then, I will nurse Ian back to health.”

Ian: “Please. I am submissive and healable.”

🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Very cute how Anthony said he’d nurse him back to health though.

And on that note, that brought us to the end of October…

November 2023

Food Battle Trailer Watch Party + Tier List

So November rolled around and it was time for Food Battle promo. In this livestream they watched the 2023 trailer, plus ranked all the previous Food Battle’s. And in it we got this moment :-

[reacting to this still]

Ian: “Yo, that butt though.”

Anthony: “Yeah, that donk goes hard.”

Okay Anthony… 👀😏

Food Battle 2006 VS 2016 (Flashback w/ Smosh)

So this Flashback they had Courtney and Chanse on for, in which we got this moment :-

[watching Food Battle 2016]

Ian: “This hair though. Not a vibe.”

Chase: “The hair’s not a vibe.”

Courtney: “You figured it out.”

Ian: “That’s Ghostmates. That’s Ghostmates hair.”

Chanse: “You figured it out now.”

Anthony: “Oh, you figured it out, daddy.”

He does this to torture me I tell you.

Also I’m all for Courtney’s suggestion at the end of the video for them to stare into each other’s eyes for 4 minutes whilst calling each other ‘daddy’. Just tell us how many views to make it happen boys!

We Roast Anthony With Memes (Who Meme’d It)

I have been dying to talk about this! Because it was a crossover of all my favourite people Ian and Anthony + Taylor 🙌 I actually made a video out of these moments here. So they had Anthony on ‘Who Meme’d It’ with Courtney and Angela, along with a lot of the cast and crew watching from the sidelines.

One of the memes was this one comparing Ian and Anthony to Taylor and Travis, and Angela explains the meaning behind it to Anthony about the whole ‘Taylor put Travis on the map’ meme and how people only started caring about him when he started dating Taylor, and in this meme they were comparing Ian to Travis and Anthony to Taylor 😭

But Anthony was not having that!

Anthony: “That’s not fair to Ian. That’s messed up. Ian carried this company for 6 years!”

You tell ‘em Anthony! 😤

But yes I was living for the crossover plus Anthony defending Ian on top of that! It was like that moment was specifically curated for me 😌

-

Another moment of Anthony defending Ian in the video was when the meme about Ian’s very limited clothing options popped up 🤭

Again, Anthony was not having it :-

Anthony: [laughing] “That is fucked!”

Ian: [comes out to compare the current shirt he’s wearing to the one’s in the picture]

Anthony: “He has a fourth [shirt].”

Ian: “No, that’s a different shirt [on the board].”

Anthony: “Yeah, there’s no pocket on that one.”

Ian: “Yeah, see the no pocket?” Different shirt. Different shirt.”

Anthony: “Wow, Ian has five shirts.”

Love Anthony sticking up for him here! Just like shouting over everyone else to be in his corner, it’s very sweet ☺️

Food Battle 2023 Watch Party

Food Battle 2023 finally arrived and of course we got a livestream with the boys which included some complimentary moments :-

Ian was unhappy with how his hair looked in the scenes where they were on the roof in Food Battle because the wind was blowing it. He mentioned this in the stream and Anthony kept trying to reassure him that it was fine and saying his own hair was messed up 🥺

Ian: “I just hate how the direction of this wind was blowing was not ideal, I did not take that into consideration when we set up this shot.”

Anthony: “Yeah, Ian was not happy that his hair was all fucked up.”

Ian: “My hair is massively fucked for this entire [scene].”

Anthony: “But I was like it works for the final scene.”

Ian: “Yeah, it like makes me look insane, that’s fine.”

Anthony: “Well me too, when I stand up. I’ll show you in a bit. I’ll point it out.”

…

[watching the bit in question]

Anthony: “I look insane with my hair there.”

Ian: “Yeah, but, you think your hair looks insane. Look at this, look at this bullshit. What is that?”

Anthony: “It just looks like the wind’s blowing on you. Or it looks like you’re like an infant in a cartoon and that’s how they draw your hair.”

Ian: “What even is that? What would you even call this?”

Anthony: “The floof. The wispy floof.”

Just love Anthony trying to make him feel better 🥹

-

[cuts to the end screen and the close up shot of Ian and Anthony’s asses in the BTS]

Anthony: “Oh. Oh man. No, it’s so good.”

Anthony’s got a thing for Ian’s assets 😏

And in saying that it leads me on to the last compliment from this stream :-

-

We finally got Anthony’s thoughts of Ian in the maid outfit :-

Anthony: “Okay, alright, thoughts on the maid outfit.”

Ian: “What do you mean thoughts on the maid outfit?”

Anthony: “I thought it was a pretty good outfit.”

Ian: “Yeah, it’s hot. I think we both agree on that.”

Anthony: “It accentuates all the right places.”

Told you he loves Ian’s assets 🤭

Try Not To Laugh Challenge - Ian’s Birthday

So Anthony along with the cast, crew and some special guests done a TNTL for Ian’s birthday, it included multiple moments of them cheering, clapping and celebrating him but a lot of their bits were roasts to him, but of course his bestie came through as always :-

[Anthony comes out for his bit and starts playing music from the keyboard]

Anthony: “Hey, so you know when you found out that we were going to be buying Smosh back and you decided to get hot.”

Posted a clip of this moment here.

Have nothing more to add, what Anthony said speaks for itself.

Zach Sang Show Interview

So the boys went on the Zach Sang show and covered a lot of different topics and talked about their YouTube journey, and of course their reuniting was brought up :-

Dan: “How did you guys reconnect? Like who reached out to who? Or did you guys sit down one day together?”

Ian: “A friend of mine, I was talking to her about Anthony and she was like ‘you should reach out to him, like what are you doing’.”

Anthony: “What were you saying to her about me? Like ‘oh this old friend of mine’.”

Ian: “Well cause I was like telling her about, I was telling her about Smosh and you know talking about you and yeah I think she could kind of like saw, you know there’s still like, I still, you know I spoke fondly of you and everything, so she was like ‘you should get back together with him’.”

I know we already knew this story, but now with the inclusion of the fact that Ian was speaking fondly about Anthony is so sweet to hear 🥹

-

Zach: “What have you learned about each other from this second Smosh chapter? Or whatever you would describe it, this… rekindling? Or resurrection?”

Anthony: “One thing that stands out to me is how much Ian was forced to step up into the leader position, cause you know for so many years as we were working together, you know Ian was really like ‘go with the flow’, and that’s where we actually excelled was that dynamic between us, was I would take a little bit more of the leadership role, little bit more like rigid, like ‘get this thing done. figure out this thing. I have this to-do list and these goals’ and I was like kinda doing that kind of thing, all the programming and stuff. While Ian was a lot more focused on just being creative and shooting out ideas, and that’s where I think the dynamic between us really flourished, but now, you know I’ve kinda been, because I’ve been off on my own I’ve been forced to kind of hone in on that creative, go with the flow side, while Ian’s been forced to hone in on that leadership mentality, and I think it’s really cool to see that side of both of us flourish.”

Know we’ve also heard this multiple times before, but I just love when Anthony admires how much Ian stepped up into that leadership role after he left, even though it wasn’t what Ian necessarily wanted. But that recognition now from Anthony is such growth, and I love how it’s something he continually points out and praises him for.

Ian: [talks about how he felt he was thrown into the deep end to be a leader when Anthony left, and even though it was hard he’s glad he stuck with Smosh as he still saw the potential it had]

Anthony: “Yeah, and I really respect Ian pulling Smosh through just so many years of all that difficulty, kind of like tredging through this like swamp with this company and turning it, and keeping it alive, keeping it thriving, creating new formats and shows and highlighting the cast and you know growing it into what it became when I decided that you know it was time, we could do this again, and I think in the final years of me being at Smosh I started to resent everything. I started to resent you know the parent company and kind of what they turned Smosh into, and how Ian and I lost our friendship in some ways because of it, but also because of ourselves, and I think because I in part of that I was resenting Ian in part of that, I think I forgot to really respect and honour the work that Ian had put into it, and I think part of me because I felt like so much of it was out of my control and you know I felt like ‘if it was all in my control this would have been fine’ you know what kind of a story that I built in my head, so I think I started to resent Ian and the way that the company had went so it was really cool to be watching from a distance and as I started to reconnect with Ian and everything to kind of start to understand that mindset that he had, why he stuck around, what he has built it into, and you know growing into this leadership position and taking all these roles on that he didn’t want and you know all these positions that I felt like I was thrown into Ian was now being thrown into…”

Again, that recognition for all Ian’s hard work and about how difficult it must’ve been for him to be thrown into that role when he left.

Anthony: [talks about how he feels his upbringing affected him resenting and being frustrated with that leadership role when he was at Smosh because of the responsibilities he had to take on for his family due to his mom’s agoraphobia] “So I felt like I dealt with Smosh like that to a certain degree and I think that part of me was trying to have Ian be like co-running it entirely, like 50/50 and I got in my head like ‘it needs to be 50/50’ because I think that I wanted that kind of in my childhood home, so because Ian was so much more focused on being more creative and in many ways keeping Smosh fun, which I feel is at the heart of Smosh, I think a part of me resented Ian for not taking on that leadership role with me as much, and you know I think one element of us reconnecting is Ian really has taken on that leadership role and I don’t feel it’s on my shoulders anymore to that same degree and Smosh, you know Ian kept Smosh alive and thriving for 6 years while I was gone, I don’t feel now like it’s hanging on by a thread that I’m holding on to, it feels like it can live and thrive on it’s own and Ian’s there to back me up whenever I need it.

I’ll forever love this dynamic between them now, again it’s something we’ve heard from them before, how they share that leadership now. I’m so glad they have that in each other, because as they’ve spoken about, it’s a lonely job being the boss, so having a partner in that, someone who is your equal to share that load with makes all the difference, which is something we’ve seen manifest over and over again, especially in regards to Ian, and it’s something he’s spoken about himself, just how much happier he is that he knows he has Anthony there backing him up. I just think it’s so special that they have that in each other.

Daddy 2.0

So everyone has been simping for Ian in his priest costume for Anthony’s Funeral Roast, and rightfully so :-

Andrew Scott who?

And of course Mr No.1 Ian simp himself, Mr Anthony Padilla is at the forefront :-

Numerous other Smosh members commented on the post, but Chanse and Amanda’s were the thirstiest two :-

And who was out here lurking in Ian’s comments liking each and every one including those^^ two…

Real subtle as always, Anthony 🤭

Ian’s Birthday

Just wanted to include a little bit about Ian’s birthday since I did for Anthony’s, and similar to his, it was more complimentary-by-extension, but still as utterly cute ☺️

Of course as his No.1 fan this day must be just as equally exciting for Anthony - a full day to celebrate Ian! (Not that he doesn’t do that every day tho)

We got this adorable birthday post from Ian of Anthony giving him his gift :-

Of course inspired by the recurring joke created by Shayne in this video that Ian is Chumbawamba’s No.1 fan 😄

And Anthony’s comment

‘Birthday boy’ gets me 🥹

Another sweet little moment from the day was this video that I posted here of the cast and crew bringing Ian a cake and singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him, I put this in my tags at the time, but notice how Anthony’s right in there front and centre to celebrate him 😭 It’s also the first birthday Anthony has properly been able to celebrate with him in so long given they had only just re-connected before Ian’s birthday last year so things were still new, so I’m sure this time around it was so special for them to be able to celebrate both their birthdays together for the first time in so many years 🥰

And with that, that brings us to an end on October and November. One more month left of this year and I can’t wait to see what that’ll bring us. I’ll see you guys next time 💖

[uncouth-the-fifth]

pythia, a supernatural rewrite. bloody mary, rough draft.

read it on ao3.

words: 6k notes: hi y'all! yes, you read that chapter title right - this is a little unconventional, but since I've unfortunately shifted hyperfixations and have drifted away from SPN, I thought I would post what I have for the next part of pythia. since I'm moving into resident evil land, I'm not sure if I'm going to come back to this fic—but I absolutely didn't want to leave you guys empty-handed!! I'm so so sorry that this fic will go unfinished (for now), and I'm so grateful to those who were along for the ride with me. I have so much love for all the people who motivated me through writing this fic. all of you are beyond kind!! and I hope you enjoy this dose of pythia content, featuring some of my notes and process-work, lol. I only had a few heavy chunks of the beginning written, but the prose for this chap (ironically) started to get into the meat of what I really wrote this fic for—psychic bullshit between reader and Sam. It was just too plain juicy to not share!! All of my spn fics will remain up, but if you keep up with me, expect lots of Leon Kennedy bullshit and tomfoolery. Again - thank you so much for your endless love and support, I had so much fun writing what I could of season one!! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this unfinished chunk of silly/ansty Christmas drama :)

EAU CLAIRE, WISCONSIN - Dec 21st, evening.

Sam drops the stack of glossy, brand-new legal pads into his lap, and flashes his brother a plain smile. “Thanks, Dean. I needed more of these.” From your spot seated on the living room rug, you twist your rings and wait for Dean’s witty reply. With all those notes you’re always makin', Sammy, I’ll hafta buy you some for New Years, too. You wait for him to make a crack about the gift he got Sam, something about diaries or his brother’s girly handwriting.

Instead, Dean shrugs, “Well, then there ya go.”

Voila. And with that, the feeble threads you’d tried to braid into a proper Christmas are cut. Without a word, your Mom picks up the little wooden jewelry case the three of you had thrifted her and recedes into the dark hallways of the house. Dean peels himself out of his seat to clean up. Sam sighs, picking at the plastic seal around his legal pads. Hilariously, this all plays out while Paul McCartney chimes about what wonderful Christmastime he’s been having from the radio in your kitchen.

Technically, you hadn’t just been celebrating Christmas. No, you managed to completely bomb both Christmas and the sacred Winter Solstice sabbat that the Proctors had been celebrating for a bajillion fucking years. The special sabbat that would have a real spiritual effect on you for the next couple months.

You’d given it a good ol’ college try. First, you’d painstakingly picked out gifts for the boys and your Mom. Good ass gifts, too, that you’d been hiding in your duffle since summertime. Hell, you’d been looking for the Eagles album you bought for Dean in tape form for at least two years. (Cool, Dean had said, half alive in his armchair after your chupacabra hunt in Illinois. He was at the ugly front end of a cold. He’d sniffled, Don’t have this one.) And knowing that this would be Sam’s first Christmas without Jess—the one person who had given him any kind of good holiday when he was away from home—you’d poured extra love into his gift, too.

He’d been begging you to read Frankenstein since high school, and you’d dodged it because sometimes books that pushed too far into the “classics” category could lose you. Mary Shelley got a little wordy at times. But you were a big girl with a big brain, so you’d read the whole thing for Sam… and annotated the whole thing for Sam…

He’d taken one look at your labor of love and murmured, “Good. Glad you read it.”

…Yeah. You had half a mind to check if he’d been replaced by a clone, hearing that. Fifteen-year-old Sam would have melted into a babbling, ecstatic mess if someone had carefully combed through one of his favorite books and shared their thoughts on it with him. Bare minimum, you figured he’d at least enjoy having his own copy of Shelley’s work. All his other books had been lost in the fire.

But you’d given the book to a Sam who was twenty-two, not fifteen. Fine. People changed.

The boys being a collective bummer was something you could deal with. Sam was always sullen around the holidays, and you couldn’t exactly be mad at Dean for being exhausted after a stressful hunt. But your Mom…

Beth used to make Yule her bitch. When you were a kid, come December 1st, the Proctor House could easily have been the center of all Wicca celebrations in the world. If working retail during the holidays tested one’s love for festive music, then the non-stop winter songs bouncing off Beth’s vinyl player would’ve made Santa beg to hear something else. Every room would gush with the smell of evergreen branches and holly. Your family’s altar, the home of all the love and joy for the season, would be lush with offerings and presents. The candles you lit as a family to welcome the light of the new year would glow in a neat row—your little silver candle, your mother’s tall red one… and the biggest. Your Dad’s.

Now, your Dad’s candle was tucked away with the rest of the unused decorations in the attic. From your spot on the floor, you couldn’t help but stare at your piss-poor excuse for a family altar. Beth hadn’t “had the time” to find the table runner your great-grandmother had embroidered just for that space. The small bouquet of mistletoe you’d brought sat pathetically on the wide, barren surface, framed by your family’s dollar-store candles: silver for you, red for Mom, and twin green candles for the boys. 

It was stupid. Really, you shouldn’t have cared so much. You were almost twenty-five, and the older you got the less people cared about silly, trivial things like a single holiday out of the year. That was just a fact of life.

Still, an ugly ball of bitterness sat in your gut. She couldn’t have tried to decorate? Even out on the road, you’d still found ways to make today a little special for the people you loved. Did she really have such little strength left in her? You’d dragged the boys up to Wisconsin with you so your Mom didn’t have to be alone. Was it really that impossible, after eleven whole years without your Dad, to try and be happy?

Fuck this. Yule isn’t over yet. There’s still time for you to squeeze some life out of today, and you’re going to start straight at the source. You find your Mom in the kitchen, mindlessly swiping invisible crumbs off pristine counters. When she senses you paused behind her in the kitchen doorway, clutching in both hands the gift she got you this year, the radio suddenly needs to be toyed with. Then cleaned. There are gray strands in her hair that shine like tinsel in the low kitchen light.

“Hey,” you say, your voice bright and christmas-card perfect. “I don’t think I got to say thank you for the gift.” (You did. More than once already.) “It’s been a bit since I read this one.” The gift in question is your Dad’s second edition print of The Shining. It’s even older than you are, with soft, petal-thin pages that reek of that wonderful old book musk. Rolling the flexed and cracked paperback between your hands, your Gift automatically picks up the distant echo of the hands that had touched these pages when they were new.

When you were little, you’d always found it kind of strange that your Dad considered this book his favorite. He was a sweet, soft-spoken person, and the mental image of him indulging in uncensored horror novels didn’t mesh with the Ray preserved in your head. Having since grown up and read it for yourself, you understood that it was less about the gore of the Overlook and more about “the shine;” the array of psychic abilities that kept five-year-old Danny Torrance alive through the book.

Years of having book-club with Sam had trained you to form cultivated opinions about the stuff you read, but The Shining existed in a realm that made it hard for you to describe how you felt about it. See, you had Danny Torrance’s shine—on the same level, too, enough shine to power the decades of ghostly ballroom parties and mob conspiracies inside the Overlook for a century. Seeing your Gift put onto a page so nakedly and cinematically made you uncomfortable. Yet, feeling the weight of your father’s book in your hands, standing in the kitchen he hasn’t touched in a decade, you know that it must’ve comforted him. Back then, surrounded by a psychic mother-in-law, girlfriend, and daughter, it would've been impossible to survive without a little shine of his own. You’re sure that your Dad's Gift was faint and unimpressive next to the psychic blackholes of your Mom and Grandma. Just enough to know if you’d skinned your elbow or had a nightmare. On the days that you came home from school tear-streaked and ruddy-faced, Dad would be waiting on the porch with soup.

You can still feel the faint psychic imprint of one of his whiskery kisses on your face. You don’t have many vivid impressions of him left to feel; none that haven’t been rubbed again and again, like the hollow of a fingerprint smoothed into the face of a rock over time.

Your Mom gives a non-committal hum at your attempt at conversation. Not because she doesn’t care—you can feel how much she cares from across the room—but because she’s tired. Adult Tired, like when she’d turn down your pleas to play together as a kid. Not tonight, baby. Momma’s exhausted.

“Mom,” you say, sounding as glossy and clean as a brand-new cookie tin. You open your mouth to say more, maybe to start in on one of your long-winded book-rants that had everyone wondering where Sam had suddenly appeared from. You know the answer, but you ask anyway, “This was one of Dad’s favorite books, right? I vaguely remember him talking about the hedge animals.” Beth accidentally hits a button as she’s dragging a rag over the shiny front of the radio, forcing Paul McCartney to have yet another wonderful Christmastime. She doesn’t look at you.

“Yup. But you knew that already, honey.”

C’mon. Nothing? She won’t even throw you the smallest, most pathetic olive branch? A psychic battle occurs. You get so frustrated all at once that your throat closes up, and that frustration balloons out into your family kitchen like the expansion of a bomb. You push. There is no give. The bubbling stormcloud of grief and loss hanging around Mom is there, then it’s not. The side of the kitchen your mother stands on is suddenly a void of absolute nothingness, empty of any feeling whatsoever, good or bad. She’s cutting you off from reading her—and protecting herself from your explosive emotions, as per usual.

Beth keeps cleaning the radio, her back to you.

Your rage bubbles out of you all at once. One day! One day out of the entire fucking year, the day your Dad always made special, and she can’t even pull herself together for that. You know you should be a good daughter and empathize with the woman who made you, but you’ve been a good daughter about this since you were twelve years old. Eleven Yules have gone by since your Dad passed. Just for one measly moment, you want to talk about him like he’s not a corpse rotting in the living room.

And the worst part is that Mom knows that. She’s known you’ve felt that way all day, a slow-bubbling pot building to a boil across the room. The two of you can always feel each other. You’re the only two who can; she’s the only other radio tower that can receive your station in its purest quality, and yet she has the gall to shut all her signals down.

“Fine!” You burst out, making the conversation physical.

It should feel good to yell, really. After the slow, ungratifying day you’ve had, you’ve been a shaken soda bottle waiting to implode. Instead, since you’re the crazy person yelling at nothing for no reason in the kitchen, your anger booms out of you and fizzes out in the same breath like a faulty firework. Fine. Fuck all of this. If you can’t beat em’, join em’. If everyone’s determined to rot the day away, then you’ll go wallow in self-pity the Proctor-Winchester way, too. Merry fucking Christmas, and a happy fucking Yule.

There is no satisfying door to slam on your way out of the kitchen. You take a sharp right down the front hall, hoping to veer up the stairs and slam your feet down on every single step up to your room. If your Mom wants to live forever in the year your Dad died, by all means—you’ll even bring home your thirteen-year-old self and her childish tantrums, just for time-accurate ambiance. Sam’s standing frozen just outside the kitchen archway, and you catch his deer-in-headlights look as you go peeling around the corner. You’re still keyed up with enough lashing rage to spare, so seeing him, just as hollowed-out and not there as your Mom, only feeds your pyre.

As you get to work thoroughly stomping the staircase to death, you hear him go into the kitchen and ask Beth about soup for Dean’s sore throat.

Upstairs is even more painfully quiet. Through the floor, Paul McCartney muffles down to a cheery mumble. All old houses shift around a little, but yours settles like it's alive, clicking, creaking, swaying. You don’t look at the portraits of Proctor women up the stairwell. The dusty grandfather clock in the hall watches you with its stained glass face, and you’re so lost in your own head—

—and Dad’d be so pissed we didn’t decorate the altar or listen to the Tull Christmas album, he’d riot, he’d talk some sense into her—wouldn’t think any of this is stupid— —that you don’t hear it when it chimes. Muscle memory plants you right in front of your bedroom door. Having a good cry under the covers sounds like a perfect end to the night, right? And yet you stop. Your hand drops on the knob and stays there, unmoving. Maybe it’s your Gift, or good old-fashioned human instinct knowing when something in the home has been nudged two inches to the left, but the air in the hall tastes staler than usual. A draft? Your gaze is pulled all the way down to the opposite end of the hall, where the untouched, stately storage room door is ajar.

Your Mom probably left it open. Maybe she’d gone in there to hunt around for all the heirloom Yule decorations, only to rediscover Dad’s football memorabilia or Dad’s engraved cigarette case and go bolting out of the room. —everything’s different without him, Sam and Mom and Dean too. So am I. Everything’s twisted—without him— Still riding the whirlwind, you stomp from one end of the yellowing, starry zodiac carpet (Aries) to the other (Pisces), the floorboards squeaking under your weight. You push the door and it goes shuddering into the darkness. This was one of many rooms in the house that Mom had banished you from as a kid, mostly as a way to shoo you away from the hunting world. It’d given you this insatiable fascination with it as a result, but when you tug the chain to turn on the closest lamp, what it illuminates doesn’t come close to the spectacular stories you’d made up in your head.

It’s just a room. It has windows and shelves and old things, some from your childhood, some from your Mom’s. Some from even further back than that. The closest fascinating thing is a shiny gold blob poking out of your baby things, which turns out to be Sam’s eighth-grade mathlete trophy. You had no idea what possessed Mom to come up here so often. There was no way she wasn’t in here at least a couple times a week; the tall metal storage shelf where she immortalized your Dad’s things was never dusty, and yet the whole room reeked of rotting books and insulation. You shove the box with Sam’s trophy aside with your foot until it skids out of your way, and then send the heavy door shut behind you with a wall-shaking bang.

A flurry of dust hails down from the ceiling. You cough through the cloud, wandering in your blindness towards the neat row of plastic storage tubs labeled with your Dad’s name. Clothes. Misc. Books. Maybe that’s where Mom had gotten your new copy of The Shining from, halfway through one of her sacred meditations over Dad’s things. You drop a hand onto the cold lid of the tub. Nothing, not even the slightest psychic imprint, reaches back.

What is she even holding onto anymore? You try the clothes next. The rounded corners of this bin have been scuffed gray from how many times it’s been pulled off and then pushed back on its shelf, again and again. The case feels as lifeless to you as it would for anyone else, but you try your luck and slide it out onto the floor. It comes loose with a solid thud.

When you were old enough, Beth would sometimes send you up into this room to grab things (spell ingredients, books you didn’t keep downstairs). You would run full-tilt right up until you hit the storage room door, then pass inside like a stranger in a dangerous realm, watching where you stepped and always, always keeping your Dad’s shelf in the corner of your eye. On brave days you would pick up his silvery cigarette case and roll it between your palms. It grew harder and harder to feel him each time, the ghost of him whittled down like a rock made round by the current of a river.

When you crack off the lid, you expect some kind of smell. You don’t remember what he smelled like, but you have a few guesses—cheap, vanilla-sweet aftershave, or maybe the woody stale smell of cigarette smoke you know you shouldn’t love. Maybe both. It doesn’t really matter. The neatly folded stacks of your Dad’s old shirts and jackets don’t smell like a damn thing. You dip your face into a holey band-shirt with the sleeves scissored off, but all that comes back to you is the rotten smell of dusty insulation. He’s here—he’s right here in front of you, right in your fucking hands, and yet the whole world is dead of him. You can’t sense even a sliver of him left.

The same old reservoir of despair pushes and pushes at your composure, wiggling through your cracks, widening them with a hundred thousand tons of pressure bearing down on you a minute. It is a day by day task to handle the reservoir. You like to think you’re good at handling it, at patching the cracks as they come and letting them breathe when the moment calls for it. But when you lift your face from the bin, the leak springs—really, genuinely springs, like it hasn’t in years.

You fall back onto your haunches, swallowing back sudden stinging tears. The bin and its askew lid go shrieking back onto the shelf with a lash of your foot.

-

The music downstairs stops. You can’t tell how long it’s been.

When his death was fresh, and you were stuck deep, deep within the reservoir, you’d wondered if it would always feel this way. It got easier, right? And in many ways it had—on most days you could talk about your Dad without it hurting, letting the dam’s water run. The battle was still there, but it was a burden you were proud to carry if it meant his memory lived on in you. He would want you to be happy, your Mom used to urge. So you gave being happy your best shot, loving and giving as much as you could.

That’s what frustrated you so endlessly about your Mom. She’d been right; your Dad would’ve wanted the two of you to move on, and yet she still entombed herself in the bottom of her reservoir far too often. There was no release, no acceptance with her. The dark part of you that wanted to pass blame wondered if this was all because of John, and how well Winchester grief happened to mingle with a Proctor’s. How would your mother’s life be different, if the evil that’d taken Dad hadn’t been put down a week later? Would she be just as hellbent? With your knees sore from pressing into the floor, you knew the answer. You knew if the thing that’d taken Sam or Dean from you was right in front of you, you’d chase it until you were in your own grave. You knew that even after it was dead, you would be digging your nails into the backseat of the Impala and clawing for every psychic molecule of them left in the leather.

And that’s what scared you—was she just going to be chasing Dad forever, til’ there wasn’t a wisp of him left in the world to feel? 

Something dawns on you, thudding through your mind like a rock dropped down a chute. With limp hands, you slide The Shining towards you on the worn wood floor, part the pages with your thumbs, and press your nose into the binding. There’s the smoky, earthy scent of old paper first… then something just underneath the surface that no one but you and your Mom can pick up.

Old books. Yes. Yes, that’s what Dad had smelled like.

-

You’re seated on the floor of the storage room, back pressed to one of the ancient metal shelves holding up your gramma’s VCR collection, when a blot of the future is tossed at you. Cheap deodorant and lemon cough drops.

Around a minute later, the stairs beyond the door squeak under someone’s weight. Even without the roulette glimpse of the future, you can tell by the footfalls who it is. Heavy knuckles rap the door and come straight in without waiting for an answer. Behind him, the silence of the rest of the house is even heavier.

You try to sound like a reasonable adult, but the mopey teenager slips out anyway. “Thought you were sick, Dean.”

He artfully dodges your point. (Dean is, after all, a master of the craft.) You don’t look back at him, but the lemon cough-drops glimpse you got of him creates a clear picture: Dean’s whole body listing into the door frame, one hand on the knob, his face lacking its usual color. His cheeks have graduated from stubbly to scruffy, neglected. “Hey,” he says. It’s the, okay, you’re done cooling down, let’s have a grown-up conversation kind of hello.

You don’t know what to say back. You’re not sure if you can have any kind of conversation right now.

Dean rolls with it, trying to decide if this silence is begging for a subject change or a heart-to-heart. You’re not sure what he goes for when he says, “I had an idea.” “Did it hurt?” You joke. Jokes you can do.

There’s his opening. After a beat, you’re—

—fucking lobbed with a foam football. Like you’re fucking twelve. Dean’s throw arcs straight towards your head and bounces clean off the top, a perfect spiral. You yelp in outrage, and before you can think you’re following where the stupid ball went so you can clock him right in the face with it. Asshole. It loop-de-loops on the floor around an old dining chair, and you clamber on your knees to fish for it.

Just when you get the toy in your hands and you’re about to demolish him with it, Dean ducks behind the doorway, chuckling, “Woah! No face shots! You wouldn’t bash a poor, sick guy’s face in, would’ja?”

God. You can’t fucking believe him. If anyone else did that…

You lower your hackles and drop the foam toy into a basket, far out of reach of congested troublemakers. When his shining eyes appear in the slit of the doorway again, your cheeks are aching with an impossible smile. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, loser. What is it?”

Dean hesitates a moment more, just in case you’ve got something else to throw at him, then joins you in the storage room with the evil little oily smile you love. The same dust cloud that got you earlier descends on him in a rough coughing fit, but this lets him get a good look at the little mess you’ve made: the book on the floor, your Dad’s things open and askew. When he clears his throat for the last time, he looks pained.

For your sake, you pretend it’s an empathetic kind of pained. And you know that’s a part of it—Dean doesn’t enjoy seeing you and your Mom like this. But it’s an unfortunate fact of your life that you will have four times as much context for him than he will ever have for you. Just breathing the same dusty air as him, you know he’s been nursing a sinus headache since Monday, one that’s made his head feel like it’s chock-full of stuffing, and that Sam made him canned chicken noodle soup—and at first he felt a little smug making Sam play nurse, until he stewed on it more and—

—hate it when he gives me that dead-eyed look, like he can’t even pretend to care anymore. Like he’s just dragging himself through this for our sake. Poor kid scares the shit outta me. Is this how it’s always gonna be? Sammy aching over her, night after night after night—

You know just touching the bins holding your Dad’s things that on a icy February afternoon in 1994, fifteen-year-old Dean had picked up the plastic tubs for your Mom from the store.

So when he gives you that pained look, you know it’s part-concern, part-fear. If this is what you look like eleven years after your Dad’s passing… if John never comes home from his hunting trip, is this what Dean will become? The loyal son, waiting and waiting on that porch for a man who would never come home? 

Your whole life, you’ve felt like you were becoming more and more like Dean; lately, it feels like he’s becoming so much like you. Your last four years on the road together had slowly but surely melded you together.

“Okay, so, Yule’s a fire festival, right?” Dean grasps around in his memory for the yearly history lesson your Mom gives about the Wicca calendar. “Uh, we lit candles… I thought about burning Beth’s Muppet Christmas CD with my lighter a couple times. That’s about all the fiery, burny-stuff we did today.”

“I love the Muppets Christmas album,” you pout.

“After the millionth partridge in John Denver’s goddamn pear tree, you’d change your mind,” Dean swears. “But I was thinkin’—we got the firepit in the backyard, marshmallows, and I think I could put together some vodka shots. Then we can blow em' out and eat em' with the s'mores.” Your eyebrows raise. Only he, of all people, could take your sacred family traditions and twist them into such a wonderful, stupid-ass thing. Maybe it’s ridiculous, but… there is chocolate and graham crackers downstairs… and with how cold it is outside, a fire would be perfect… It’s the best blend of weird Proctor-Winchester traditions you need to save Christmas and Yule. Dean takes your silence as glowing awe. “Exactly. I told you, I'm a fuckin' genius. Helluva way to start the wiccan year, right? You in?”

You’re well aware that this is an elaborate plan to coax you away from your moping. Still, it’s just too Dean to turn down. “...Hell yeah.”

At first R hopes that it’s just her and Dean, and that Sam and Beth keep their grief to themselves. But then she realizes how cruel and selfish she’s been—everyone grieves in their own way, and just because she works through it by talking about it doesn’t mean it will work for everyone. It’s not good that Beth is holding on so tightly to her loss, but that doesn’t mean R wants to leave them out.

Lead this into a touch of psychic!Dean and how he has a teeny tiny second sense for what she needs, just like her Dad did. Just enough shine to get by.

R and Dean come downstairs and invite Sam and Beth to their campfire 😀

Or, at the very least, all the psychic happenings in the house echoing between them; if Dean's sharper instincts were as psychically heavy as a shadow falling on grass, then Sam's Static was six feet of snow in an arctic blizzard.

It tingles all the way up to your shoulder when Sam touches you. And that, oh, that was a whole new can of worms. As they get dressed for the snow outside and assemble the s'mores and flaming shots, you try not to head down that train of thought again.

Every time you’ve glanced at Sam these past few weeks, you’d been unable to hide from what you’d sensed there—from what you’d seen in the demon, and what you now knew to be completely and utterly true after reading its mind.

Sam had It. The Gift, the Shining, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. Not the vague imprint of psychic-ness from loving one or sharing the Impala with one for four years; full-on, unlatched, REDRUM, I-saw-it-before-it-happened psychic abilities. In the weeks you'd had to sit with that revelation, you'd poked carefully at Sam from afar. Obviously, you knew what a fucking psychic felt like. The five-year-old Sam who'd cut Dean's gum out of your hair had not been psychic. Yet this Sam, twenty-two with three-fourths of an ivy league law degree under his belt, was as psychic as a fucking—well. You. He was just as psychic as you.

Without even a sliver of the same control or even understanding of—of what he had, yes, but you were confident that if Sam was pushed, he could reach into your mind just as easily as you could reach into his. There had been a shift, then. At six, having gum cut out of your hair, you had been decidedly less psychic than you were at twenty-four. So Sam had gone through the Proctor Rite Of Passage; some terrible moment had cut him deep, deep enough to pull a new kind of blood to the surface. After Jessica, he had been... yeah.

It was fucking crazy. And yet it also slotted perfectly into some of the weirder things you understood about Sam; about who he was now and the vague, strobing flashes you got of his future. It freaked you the fuck out. Did Sam know? Did anyone know, besides you? Had your Mom recognized that spark in Sam, the same way she'd seen it in you? Had John?

And the plain existence of the Gift in Sam begged the question—why? Had he just happened to drop from the tree as a different kind of apple? Or was this something you could trace back to his mother, the same way it traced back to yours? Had Mary…?

The implications of that took pretty much everything you understood about Sam and Dean’s life, lined it up on the chopping block, and cleaved it in two. Needless to say, thinking about it made you sick. How could you even begin to bring this up to them?

You cursed your abilities with all you had. There were nights when you sat on the bathroom floor, wishing you could dig in with your nails and rip out whatever had put It in your head. Never in a billion fucking years would you have wished It upon anyone else; especially not Sam, good, selfless, wonderful Sam, who already ached so deeply for other people. Seeing their future, too? And even more often, seeing it and being helpless to change it?

He used to cry over squashed spiders as a kid. You'd felt a whole lot more than just spiders die.

…Beside that shuddering horror was another, far more selfish feeling. As scary as the implications could be, when you thought less about the Winchester family and more about your relationship with Sam, you were… excited. Relieved, even.

There were only four people in the entire world that you could share your Gift with. One of them has been six feet under for over a decade. Your Gift was a clingy, possessive creature, too. It was maybe two steps shy of being an eldritch horror. It poked through Dean’s dreams when you slept beside him, sucking them up like cigarette smoke. It breathed down Sam’s neck wherever he went. If you wanted, no one could lie to you—all punchlines and stories were spoiled for you, you knew when people found you annoying or pretty or stupid. If that particular Proctor gene had skipped you, then maybe you’d be able to form relationships with people where you didn’t immediately, intrinsically understand who they were and why. Dean would say, You need a drink. You would know without asking that he meant, You scare the ever-living hell out of me n’ I know I can’t hide it from you. Fucking hell, kid, I wish I could.

You knew you were a freak. The tiny human vessel for the lashing, bubbling, soul-melting, cosmic weight of a star about to bloom into a black hole. Only your mom would ever understand what it felt like to exist on the fringe of time, between the exhaustive influence of the past and the vast, spotty expanse of the future. You were a tool to men like John; an anomaly for men like Bobby; and a responsibility to men like Dean. 

But Sam… Your best friend Sam, he’d always tried to understand. Maybe he’d never fully get it, but the point was that he tried to. You remembered sitting with him on the curb outside your old high school, the concrete thrumming with music from the junior prom you’d both left behind inside.

How either of you had gotten dates was a miracle. You, the class weird-freak-emo punchline, and Sam, on his fourth round being the new kid that year, were two peas in a pod. Your date had never picked you up; Sam’s had escaped with her friends long before their first dance. Neither of you were very broken up about it.

The future had sprawled in front of you that night as clear as could be. You must've sat and talked on the curb for three straight hours, pressed together at the hip with Sam’s blazer around your shivering arms.

He was always beautiful in the boy-next-door kind of way, dimples popping with every good smile and freckles rising out of the too-short sleeves of his button-up. But that night he’d been fucking Helen of Troy, and the roar of the past and future slowed to a halt around him. 

Do you really see the future all the time? Every second? Sam had curiously tilted his head, sending a gleaming swish of chocolatey hair out of his eyes.

Swallowing hard, you’d hesitated, Not every second. But a lot, yes.

Again, the head tilt, then the swish. His gaze was innocent and intrigued. No existential dread, no sweeping sense of fear. Just plain curiosity. Not even morbid curiosity. Sam had asked, What about right now?

Sam’s cologne—oh god, his cologne—was steaming off his borrowed jacket and floating around your head in a wonderful rosy fog. You’d poked at the future. Sometimes things came back, sometimes they didn’t. That night, the future had come back tasting like Sam’s vanilla chapstick and junior prom punch, and your face had gone up in flames just sensing it. He’d waited for an answer. You’d blurted out the plain truth: In a minute or two, you’re gonna kiss me.

This kind of absolute, unshakable certainty about the future had made other hunters’ blood run cold. You’d braced yourself for Sam’s displeasure or worse, his fear. But instead, there were those dimples again, and Sam had the gall to bat his lashes at you and delightedly ask, Really? That’s what the magic eight ball has to say?

His big hand had dropped onto your knee and you’d squeaked out a shrill, Signs point to yes!

Sam loved the stupid magic eight-ball joke. You could feel him smiling about it as he kissed you, kissed you, hand-on-knee, his face tipping down to yours, the shitty school punch staining his lips as the two of you connected. At fifteen and sixteen respectively, this was the first kissing that either of you had ever done. It’d been wetter and warmer than you’d expected, and Sam’s vanilla chapstick had left the slightest print on your mouth, one that your tongue swiped over obsessively for the next month. Your Gift had chased him for weeks after that, silently and invisibly swarming him every time he entered a room.

Back then, your mind had been on the Curse. But now, you thought about what had led to the kiss in the first place. Sam hadn’t kissed you on a night when your Gift had been crammed down deep where it could bother nobody but you. He’d instead chosen the precise moment where your Gift was most raw, one of Its fingers coming down from the sky to press against the pulse of the future. It was small, but at a time in your life when you’d wanted to claw your Gift out with your bare hands, Sam had gotten the smallest glimpse of It and had fallen in love.

You couldn’t help but see this thing inside him, his Static, and feel the exact same way. His powers were twisted and unavoidably demonic, and yet you kind of loved them. It made perfect sense to you. No one really understood you like Sam did. Now, it's clear why.

-

tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1 @pplanetcaravan @notanotherthembo