#hopefully this is at least a bit helpful ^^

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙇𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙑𝙤𝙞𝙙

Author Note: Hey... How yall doing? (anxious sweating). Okay, I know I have been pretty much absent for the past year or so, but I literally lost the ability and want to write so, I was just silently liking and reblogging a bunch fanfics, playing my silly video games and struggling with college here and there... Then, my Marvel fangirl era came back with the movie "Thunderbolts" and here I am.... With 8060 words for the FIRST chapter of a series... If anyone read my Moon Knight fic, it will be kind of similar to it but also not, with me adding a new perspective to the Void. I am assuming this to be not too long of a serie (if I keep the 8K word band going) but we will see! Hopefully, you guys will like it and my take on the cutie Bob!

Oh and... THUNDERBOLTS REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Warnings for the series: Self-deprecating thoughts, struggles (mental and physical), Entity dramas, trauma, death, a little bit of humor, free-therapy, childhood trauma, domestic abuse, torture, blood, gore, the Void and the Sentry (I think they are enough of a warning by alone)...

Tagging: @magikdarkholme

“Did you just say we need to go to... where?”

Bucky was sure his new teammates were either stupid or feigning stupidity.

Between Ghost’s erratic phasing fits, U.S. Agent’s unwavering faith in fists over brains, and whatever the hell Red Guardian called a plan to deal with the many problems the newly formed “New Avengers” had, Bucky had seen enough chaos. The Void wasn’t just another mission—this was Bob Reynolds. This was a walking time bomb with the potential to turn the world inside out if Sentry lost control again, as he called it.

As if he didn’t care about the man’s well-being and understood his pain of  identity crisis, as if Bob wasn’t the new adopted member of their highly nonfunctional friend group that soon turned into a chaotic family.

And now, with the Thunderbolts half-functioning and Val refusing to listen, Bucky knew he needed real help. Not reckless, government-backed muscle. And absolutely no self-interested Val.

He needed her.

So, against every protocol and behind Valentina’s back, he found himself silently looking at the device you had generously given him before departing from the Earth. A golden globe with ancient runes of your people carved into it, small wings sprouting from the top of it as he found himself smiling after such a long time.

You truly were the Life itself, warming him up even if you weren’t there.

Asgard was different now, at least he believed it was—more grounded, more accessible although you kind of sticked to the traditional ways of your people—but still carried the strange, quiet hum of power underneath its cobblestone streets and tavern-laced ports. Their Queen was even stranger—regal and radiant, but unshakably human. She laughed like a thunderclap, she was messy and somehow addicted to any kind of junk food she could get her hands to and held herself like she bore galaxies in her chest.

Because she did.

She was Life itself, cloaked in mortal form, the entity who shook the entire universe and bared a trial you refused to tell to anyone so that you could revive your people and home back to life, eventually becoming the new Protector and Ruler of the Nine Realms.

And you also happened to be Bucky’s best friend. Odd pairing, sure. The former Winter Soldier and a literal cosmic embodiment. But your friendship had been forged in the strangest of fires—mutual survival, long silences, and shared understanding of what it meant to be the weapon someone else or thin had forged.

And his stupid yet naive childhood merged with your “teenage-hood”. As much as it was considered that when you didn’t get old, instead changed your form.

Everyone else saying something, as usual. Bucky hadn’t even finished explaining his plan before the room exploded into chaos.

Alexei and Ava was loudly berating each other “affectionately, Yelena was just humming to his plan with a dagger in her hand since she already knew you (despite the fact that she tried to kill you for what happened to Natasha, deeming you the guilty one, but eventually learning the truth). She hadn’t said a word to him directly since Bucky brought up going to New Asgard.

Not that he blamed her.

And then there was Walker. U.S. Agent had that expression again—like he was one word away from taking it personally as he sat on the couch widely, with an expression on the border of frustration, as if he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that there were Gods and Goddesses in real life. “So, let me get this straight. You want us to stand down while you go cozy up to some interstellar goddess?”

“She’s not some goddess,” Bucky bit out harshly, blue eyes as cold as steel as he stared at the blonde. “She’s the only one who can keep Bob from tearing himself or another city in half.”

“You sure she’s on our side?” Alexei asked gruffly as he chewed on yet another bar, one that was your favourite Bucky noticed. He didn’t blame the older Russian for his hesitance, after all, he and Yelena were the only ones who never your nature and how to talk to you (It wasn’t that hard or complicated, despite you being a cosmic entity. All you needed to easily cave in were some chocolate, some shiny jewelry and a good Cappuccino). But of course, they didn’t know that, and they didn’t encounter a Goddess or, well, the literal personification of Life, but hey, it didn’t seem like he was completely against the idea of going to you.

The same couldn’t be said for Ava and John, with the later one being more... aggressive at the prospect of such thing.

“She’s on my side,” Bucky said, sharp and final. He leant back on the couch with a silent groan, muscles screaming for one very hot bath. Maybe he could have one of those hot springs you had in Asgard. “And that’s enough.”

The silence that followed wasn’t exactly agreement, but it wasn’t outright rebellion either.

In Thunderbolts terms, that was practically a standing ovation.

“I repeat again: I said we need to go to the Asgard and seek help from the Queen if we want to help Bob. She is the only one who might know the Void.”

Walker scoffed from the corner, arms crossed. “Great. So the plan is we go knock on the front door of literal gods and ask for mental health advice? Sounds foolproof.”

Yelena popped a piece of gum into her mouth, lounging across the couch with her boots on the table. “I mean, better than your last plan of dealing with mental problems. What was it again? Run straight into a wall of bullets and hope for the adrenalin to do the work?”

Walker rolled his eyes. “Worked, didn’t it?”

“No,” Ghost said flatly, phasing halfway through the wall like she wanted to escape the conversation. “You were in the med bay for three days.”

Red Guardian grunted, tightening his gloves. “Bah! I like this plan. Finally, some honor! Gods, glory—maybe I get to fight a thunder beast! Reminds me of my prime!”

“You haven’t had a prime since the '80s,” Yelena said dryly without looking up, arms folded as she leaned against the fluffy couch.

“Yeah, well, I want to make the part with ‘might know’ highlighted! I ain’t going there!” Walker exclaimed once again on his seat, slamming a fist on the table like it would make his argument more valid. Both Ava and Yelena roller their eyes and even Alpine just stood there and hissed lowly and Bucky could swear she too rolled her eyes.

Bucky didn’t even look up, already fed up with all the loudness, as he got up for the kitchen and get a glass of water. “Why? Because she beat your ass up easily without moving an inch back in your jackass days?”

Yelena snorted. Ava straight-up wheezed.

Walker turned a shade of red that didn’t look healthy. “That was a long time ago. I was off my game.”

“Sure, man,” Yelena said with a grin, eyes sparkling with mischief. “She was literally braiding her hair while you were trying to throw a shield at her. I think she yawned.”

“Besides...” Bucky cut in before Walker and Yelena could start another verbal brawl that could escalate into a real one. “I already talked to her about it. Like a week ago.”

That made the room fall into a momentary silence.

Yelena’s brow lifted, the dagger stilling in her hand. “Wait. You already told her?” “Yeah.”

Alexei blinked from his spot next to the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, intrigued by such... silence from a Goddess that could wipe out the entire universe if she pleased. “Then what is she waiting for?”

“For Bob to be ready.”

No one answered immediately.

Even Walker stopped posturing.

Because that meant the Queen—Life, the one force that could oppose the Void without unraveling reality—wasn't going to interfere until Bob Reynolds, the man at the center of it all, was willing to face what was inside him.

“She said,” Bucky continued, voice clipped with a hint of guilt, “that she doesn’t overwrite people and their fates. She meets them. Even the broken ones. Especially the broken ones... That the Void isn’t just something you fight,” Bucky replied, his voice low. “It’s something Bob has to face—willingly. Or it’ll tear through him and everyone around him trying to claw its way out.”

Ghost reappeared halfway through the floor with a frown. “And we’re just supposed to sit on our hands while he falls apart?”

“No,” Bucky said, meeting her eyes. “We get him there. She’ll help. But only when he accepts it. For now, we keep him grounded. Keep him human.”

Alexei scratched at his beard. “So this is… therapy quest? With Norse gods?”

Yelena gave him a blank stare. “Everything’s a therapy quest with this team. None of us actually has great pasts anyways.”

Walker threw up his hands. “This is ridiculous. We’re not babysitters—we’re soldiers.”

“You’re right,” Bucky snapped, sharper than before as he sharply set the glass down. So hard that everyone was kind of curious how it didn’t break. “We are soldiers. So act like it. We don’t leave anyone behind, remember? Or does that only apply when it’s convenient for you?”

That shut Walker up, at least for the moment.

Ghost looked away. Yelena stopped humming.

Seemingly, everyone was retreated back to their minds to think about their next course of action or make sense of what Bucky meant by “She is on my side.”. How could a literal goddess be on the side of one mortal man? Well, not exactly mortal but still human... Aren’t the Goddesses and Gods supposed to be neutral?

Well, in most cases yes. But in Bucky’s case, he was aware that she made some exceptions for him even though she shouldn’t, and she never talked about the troubles she would get into because of that (others Gods were not happy you cared for humanity that much).

You never said much about the consequences, only wore that same quiet smile whenever Bucky questioned you. A smile that hid wars fought in secret skies, negotiations whispered behind divine veils, and sacrifices no mortal—or even semi-mortal—would ever be allowed to understand. But he saw the strain sometimes. In your eyes. In the way you would allow yourself to touch his face like he was both precious and fleeting and hug him.

As if you were desperate, craving that kind of connection

“She shouldn’t choose a side,” Steve would often say, especially after learning who you were and what you were capable of doing when he got out of the ice and it was your face he saw first. His voice would often turn somber, quiet, but firm whenever you and how much you sacrificed were mentioned. You didn’t see it that way, more like “taking care of two more little brothers who were unaware to the ways of world.

“That’s not how this works.”

He remembered the last time he saw you—really saw you, not in passing glimpses, not in dreams or between the flashes of battle from his time as the Winter Soldier. The stars had bent toward you like flowers to the sun, and your voice had been threaded with something desperate whenever he would remember your words in a hazy daze of the memory erasing HYDRA did to him. You told him to stay alive. Not to win. Not to save the world. Just—stay alive. As if that alone would be enough.

He had been through so much and as much as he can remember, and as far as others told him, you were mostly there. Even when he was in ice, even when he went berserk as the Soldier, you waited... Like you said many times, you didn’t intervene, you couldn’t for reasons you didn’t explain except “I did once... and It costed me a great price.”...

As a result, he never understood how people did not see the same kind and caring woman... But he also understood their look on you because once, after he got away from HYDRA, he was like them too. Though you didn’t care, that you abandoned him, that you took satisfaction at watching him struggle... Without knowing you were also dealing with your own struggles and... voids.

Bucky’s mind went back to the conversation you two had a week ago, inside his room, as he watched the team trying to decide on what to do with the new common room’s decoration. Although some people might have thought it to be a casual phone call, or him actually visiting Asgard physically... They forget the fact that you were a transcendent being who wasn’t bound to only one physical plane of existence. Someone who could easily get into the minds of people without them ever noticing, seeing the deepest secrets they hid away in their consciousness.

“James,” you said warmly, stepping down from the dais. After everything, it was nice seeing your best friend although he looked frazzled at being in your palace. He... didn’t remember visiting you. “I knew we both got old but you look far worse than I expected. Something is troubling you.” He turned. You weren’t dressed in royal robes today—just a long, dark tunic and loose braids, light dancing at her fingertips like fireflies. She always glowed subtly. Not from ego. From existence. And by some weird instinct as he looked into your expectant eyes, he understood you used your magic on him to seep into his mind. “I hate how you became more mysterious and unexpected after becoming the Ruler of Nine Realms, with your magical hands and all.” he chuckled under his breath as you slowly moved towards him, turning your body around so that instead of looking out the waterfalls you so adored of your homeland, you looked straight at him. A warm smile, and a loud laugh filled up his mind as he felt his tenseness and stress over the few months after the New York accident.

“I do not have magic only on my hands, friend. I am the magic... Besides, my mom was raised by witches and I was raised by her. What did you expect?” You let out a soft giggle that made him let out a relaxed sigh and take a step towards you. Your eyes shifted towards a more “I missed you” look as you took a good look at your best friend. His figure is broad, but not as imposing as it once was. His black tactical coat hangs heavy off his frame like armor worn too long. His vibranium arm glints faintly, muted under dreamlight, chipped in places where the plating has seen too many fights. His flesh arm—scarred and tense—hangs by his side, fingers twitching as if clenching onto ghosts he never quite managed to bury. His face tells the rest of the story. Unshaven. Tired. The lines around his mouth are deeper, not just from age, but from guilt that settled into his bones and made a home there. His hair, longer now, curls behind his ears in a disheveled way, like he stopped caring about appearances once the missions stopped being about redemption and started being about survival.

And his eyes—blue, once sharp with mischief—are dulled with exhaustion. The kind of tired that doesn’t come from sleepless nights, but from existing too long under the weight of things he was never meant to carry. He looks like a man always halfway between moving forward and waiting for the next blow. “ However, that magic cannot help you if you don’t stop brooding and explain your troubles. Like the good old days.” “Thanks. Got a Void problem. Figured Life might know what to do.” he shrugged his shoulders, accepting the drink you offered. That got your attention. “You’re talking about Bob Reynolds.” you hummed quietly. “Yeah. Sentry’s fraying again. The Thunderbolts think they can contain it. They can’t. I’ve seen what happens when he breaks.”

“He’s not fully gone yet. He’s still… trying. But it’s getting louder in him. And I don’t trust the team they put together to handle this. Hell, I don’t even trust me.” You didn’t flinch. You didn’t react. You just looked at him with a tilted head and a hard stare.  “And you want me to intervene, think I can stop him?” The Queen's gaze turned hard, divine power flickering just beneath her skin. Bucky’s mouth opened, then closed. He didn’t look at her. Not fully. His gaze stayed just off her shoulder, like meeting her eyes might burn him. Or worse—like he didn’t think he deserved to. “I think you’re the only one who can match him. Light to his darkness. You’re not just a queen—you’re the counterweight. He’s the Void. You’re the Life. If we don’t end it now, there won’t be a later.” You looked up at him with a softness no one else ever received. Having lived with humans for many years throughout different times, you always though you understood their understanding and reasoning. But each and every time, much like now, proved you otherwise with their first instinct at the face of crisis was to...get rid of it. They called it “solving the problem from its root” but... was that really necessary? Huh, maybe you were turning out to be more human than you let on. “James. I don’t end people.” “You did once,” he reminded, voice low. “ With Thanos-”

“That was a mercy.” Your voice turned cold, glare harder than ever as the sun of Asgard dimmed fast for a second, only to reappear once more. But it didn’t change the suddenly cold and heavy atmosphere in the throne room as he took a slow breath. As if he was being drowned slowly... He knew how the name tasted bitter and your usually soft and understanding heart that would light up the way of the lost ones, much like him, would immediately grow cold and sharp. He cannot blame you for all the things you had to do because of that “eggplant” as you called him. “That thing didn’t want to exist anymore.” He swallowed hard. “What if Bob doesn’t either?” The silence stretched, not empty, but thrumming with power and grief. The silence was not the absence of sound as Bucky could still hear the people chattering outside, the waterfalls and birds, the ships cruising on the air and the water, but the presence of everything unsaid was thick like the air before a storm. It pressed into the skin, settled heavy in the chest, made every breath feel like inhaling from deep underwater. It hummed with power restrained, until you finally spoke. “That’s not your decision to make. Nor mine.”

“But if he asks, if he begs—” Bucky stepped forward, desperation flickering across his face, his metal hand curling tightly at his side. “You’ve seen what the Void does to him, then. He tears himself apart just trying to breathe, to control himself so that he doesn’t hurt others. Hell, he doesn’t even care about what would happen to him!” You walked past him, having circled around him as he explained his situation, eyes on the horizon, far beyond the gilded windows of the throne room and perhaps even beyond the world itself. Your figure, wrapped in flowing robes of deep indigo and gold-threaded silver, seemed carved from moonlight and silence, too regal to be disturbed by mere pleading. The air shifted in your wake, perfumed with soft notes of sandalwood and snow bloom. Each step you took down the polished obsidian stairs echoed like a pronouncement. “The Void feeds on despair, fear, erasure. It doesn’t kill you. It unravels you, rewrites you, until there’s nothing left to remember. That’s what he’s afraid of—not dying, but becoming nothing. Again.” you spoke out without looking at him, or else he would notice the shake of your hands... at the mention of a being that is not so different than you. You continued without a look at him.

“I have seen it,” you whispered. “And I’ve felt it. The way the Void slithers through his soul like ice, like teeth, like silence too loud to bear. I know.”

You came to a slow stop, robes pooling around your feet like rippling shadows. Only then did you glance back over your shoulder. Your gaze was level, piercing—not cruel, but ancient. Tired. Tired not in body, but in soul. The kind of fatigue that comes from watching too many people run headlong into the same fire, convinced their determination would keep them from burning. James’ breath caught as your gaze bored into his—fierce, mournful, determined. “But Bob Reynolds is still there. And until that fragment of him says he’s ready to go, I will not be the blade that ends him. I will not be the Queen who grants death when it is healing that is needed.” He blinked, as if trying to process your words through a fog. “But what if there’s no healing left for him?” he weakly says because he saw everything, every cry and scream after a particular nightmare. He’d seen the man curled in a corner of the darkened chambers, trembling with hands that could tear planets apart but now only clutched his own skull as if trying to hold himself together. Heard the hoarse cries, the guttural sobs that cracked like glass underfoot. The way he’d begged—not for salvation, but for silence. For stillness. For an end. Bucky had sat beside him once, blood on Bob’s fingertips—not from battle, but from scratching at the skin of his own arms, as though he could dig the Void out with his nails. And he had said nothing. Because what could he say to a broken man who feared the thing living inside him? Something that was him but also not? He understood that feeling, when he was too scared of the “Winter Soldier” appearing again and hurting random people... But in his despair, you and Wakanda had supported him through everything and he... he survived. When he thought he wouldn’t, that he would have to live with this time-bomb in him, you and Wakanda had healed him. So now, as he stood before you—his Queen, his best friend, mentor and savior, the only one he trusted to make the call—he wasn’t questioning your strength. He was afraid Bob Reynolds had none left to borrow. “Are you waiting for him to fall apart?” “No,” you said, turning back to him, heart softening as you took his hand between yours and squeezed... Before you hit the back of his head harshly.. “I’m waiting for him to face it. I won’t force that. Life doesn't conquer the Void, James. It reaches it. Offers a hand, not a sword.” He stared with a pained look on his face, hand idly rubbing his head because it hurted. He forgot how heavy your hand was, both naturally and because of fighting for such a long time with many weapons that he could name it...but it would take days to finish the list. “That might not be enough.” You sighed tiredly, quietly descending the final step, and now your voice took on the texture of velvet lined with iron . Oh, how you forgot James was a stubborn asshole.

“How are you so sure,” you began, voice edged with something sharper now, something tired and sharp as a blade honed too often, “that he would go berserk?” you approached the topic in a different way, hoping to make him see your reasoning. “Excuse me?”he replied, confusion and caution winding tightly in his voice. “You talk like he’s already gone. Like he’s a loaded gun just waiting to fire. But you never say why.” You stepped closer, the air around you suddenly colder, heavier—not with menace, but with the truth you were about to lay bare. “Why are you truly scared, James? And don’t give me the crap of being a hero thing, I am not buying it.” “So tell me, James. Is it because he’s dangerous? Or is it because you saw something in him… something you saw in yourself?” His lips parted slightly, but the words caught in his throat, as if the very truth he’d been dodging was suddenly too close to confront. He clenched his fists, the metal hand faintly shimmering in the dim light of the throne room. You studied him—his every muscle tensed, his gaze downcast, his entire being caught in the web of past battles and old scars. “You think you had a choice in the matter? That you chose to be turned into that weapon?” His jaw tightened, and he turned his head slightly, as if unwilling to meet your gaze. But the quiet challenge in your question lingered, pushing against the walls of his heart. “You were broken, James. Just like Bob.” Your words were soft but carried the weight of the years you had seen the agony of humans. “You were the monster once. But you didn’t give up. You didn’t let the darkness take you. Why are you so ready to assume that Bob’s beyond saving?” The silence that followed was thick, suffocating in its complexity. He could feel it—the raw truth in your words, pulling him into a realization he wasn’t ready to face. He wasn’t ready to see how closely he and Bob were bound by their pain, by the choices they never got to make, and the things they thought could never be fixed. And how it all changed with the subtle help of a certain Goddess he knew. “He deserves that chance, even if the world has long since given up on him. Even if he wants to-” “You think I don’t know that? I know. I just… I’m scared. I’m scared that if we let him keep going, he’ll turn into the thing he hates most. And if the Void—” “I have faced the Void,” your voice cut him in the middle as he widened his eyes, knitting his brows in confusion at the sudden noncholant look on your face, serene yet amused at the same time. Then, slowly, deliberately, you stepped closer. The ambient light flickered across your features, illuminating the regal fire behind your gaze. “You forget what I was before this throne, before the crown and the titles that make the universe and every inhabitant bow. I have held back stars from collapse, James. I’ve screamed into the abyss until it screamed back.” Asilent beat... Bucky held his breath with anxiety until... “ Less loudly, of course.” You giggled and soon his on-guard behavior evaporated, just like that. You were back to the friend he knew, all smiley, soft and understanding. He surely knew how worthy you were of your other title now that he witnessed your anger. “I will not let Bob Reynolds be swallowed without a fight. Not by the Void, and not by himself... But for that, I also need his help.” James looked down, pain etched across his features, guilt sharpening every line. “I just don’t want to lose anyone else,” he muttered. “Not to war, not to darkness… not to mercy.” Your hand cupped his cheek—warm, gentle again, your thumb brushed the faint stubble there, grounding him in the now. . “Then help me save him.” He leaned into your touch slightly. “Even if he doesn’t believe he’s worth saving?” You gave a bittersweet smile. “ When did humans ever believe in themselves?” You muttered to yourself amused as you gave a determined nod. “Believe for him… until he can.”

..

The door hissed open before him with a polite chime, one that somehow made the silence on the other side feel even heavier. Bob stepped into the Watchtower’s living room—barefoot, book still in hand, thumb tucked between worn pages like he’d meant to come back to it. The title was some obscure thing from the archives, philosophy soaked in poetry, too heavy for what little sleep he’d had. His shirt clung to him from where he’d curled into the armchair earlier, sweat-damp from another dream that didn’t belong to him.

His footsteps were soft against the polished composite flooring—quiet enough that neither of them noticed at first.

The room was dimly lit, walls aglow with that sterile white-blue of orbital tech, like a hospital made of stars. The glass panels looked out over Earth: whole, spinning, oblivious. For a second, he pretended he was too.

Bob hadn’t meant to listen. Not really. But they weren’t exactly subtle. And no one ever noticed when he was still on the doorway, after cleaning around the kitchen and drying the dishes, retreating back to his room with blinding light and a huge bookcase enough to cover the whole room.

Not even Bucky, who was observational most of the times.

So he stood quietly in the corner, slouched over himself anxiously as he played with the deep blue sweater he wore, a comfort item from that time, watching them argue for his sake like he wasn’t the reason half the room had stopped sleeping with both eyes closed. His hoodie was pulled low over his face, sleeves frayed from being twisted in his nervous grip. He looked like a man trying to vanish.

But inside?

Inside, he was screaming.

She’s waiting for Bob to be ready.

The words kept ringing in his head like a church bell cracked in half.

Ready?

He didn’t even know what that meant anymore. Was it being ready to fight? Ready to die? Or worse—ready to live again, knowing what he was?

Bob Reynolds hated himself.

Not in the way people say when they mess up or fall short—not in frustration. No. Bob’s hatred was quiet. Constant. Structural. Like his very existence was a mistake that kept happening. Every breath he took felt like a borrowed one. Every kind word someone gave him felt like it was meant for someone else entirely.

Because he knew what he was.

He was the guy who destroyed entire cities when he thought he was saving them. The one who couldn't remember if he killed people, only that he probably did. The man with god-tier power and the emotional stability of a wet paper bag.

And the worst part?

There was no evil mastermind to blame. No alien parasite. No secret chip in his neck. It was just... him.

The power. The sickness. The Void. It was all tangled together so tightly that he didn’t know where Bob ended and the monster began.

“You’re not a monster,” Bucky had told him once, eyes heavy with meaning, as they sat together in the common room after yet another nightmare Bob had. And for a split second, Bob believed it.

Until he blinked and saw a flash of black tendrils at the edge of his vision, heard that voice whispering in the back of his head again—

“₮ⱧɆɎ ĐØ₦���₮ ₥Ɇ₳₦ ł₮. ₮ⱧɆɎ ₣Ɇ₳Ɽ ɎØɄ. ₮ⱧɆɎ ₴ⱧØɄⱠĐ. ₮ⱧɆɎ ₴ⱧØɄⱠĐ.”

Bob flinched even when no one else heard it. That’s how deep it ran.

There were days Bob looked in the mirror and couldn’t tell who was blinking back—himself, or the Void. There were seconds he lost, hours he couldn’t remember, and when he tried to look at them, they laughed—he laughed—because the darkness didn’t just come from him. It was him. A tidal wave he had to pretend he could hold back with duct tape and breathing exercises.

And now she knew. Life herself.

She knew what he was.

And she still hadn’t come.

A part of him wanted to scream at her. What are you waiting for? Kill me, stop me—do something! He wanted her to end it already, erase the Void even if it may cost him his life, before he made another mistake, another killing spree.

But deeper—quieter—something else ached.

She wasn’t coming... But it wasn’t a fixed decision either. Not until he looked the Void in the eye and told it: You don’t own me.

He didn’t know if he could do that. He barely knew who he was when he wasn’t being erased from the inside out by the Void. Because Bob’s insecurity wasn’t about strength. He knew he could move a mountain or end a war. But could he sit in a room and just exist without fearing that someone would die because he lost control? Could he ever believe someone wasn’t flinching inside when they looked at him?

He didn't believe he deserved kindness. Didn’t believe he could be fixed. He was scared to be saved—because what if they saved him, and he broke again? He wanted to be angry. Embarrassed, at least. But instead, all he felt was—

Small.

He doesn’t know who this Queen, you, is. He doesn’t know if he should be afraid or not, or if you were an arrogant asshole but... But it seemed like you didn’t speak of him like a god or a weapon or a mistake...

You spoke like someone who still saw a man.

His fingers tightened around the book. The pages crinkled slightly beneath his palm. He didn’t deserve any of this. Not her conviction. Not Bucky’s loyalty. Certainly not the faith they so freely gave him, again and again, like he hadn’t ripped half the sky open just last month trying to keep himself together.

The silence in the room returned, and still, they hadn’t noticed him.

Part of him wanted to step forward. To say something. To apologize.

Another part wanted to disappear. Back into the dark, into solitude, where no one would see the trembling that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with guilt.

People needed him, but no one wanted to know or help him. Not really.

Except maybe Bucky... And the team. After what they had willingly gone through to pull him away from the clutches of the Void... And now, her—the Queen. Life incarnate. The one who should be most afraid of what he carried inside for the potential of destruction he carried towards all the things she created, she cared about.

But she wasn’t.

She waited.

And that terrified him even more.

Because if she still believed in him…

Then maybe he didn’t have the excuse to give up anymore.

And that was almost worse than the Void.

He squeezed his hands tighter, knuckles bone-white. The noise of the Thunderbolts’ arguing faded into the background static of his mind. He couldn’t help but wince, holding onto his head a bit to silence the hateful words the Void still whispered.

₮ⱧɆɎ’ⱠⱠ ₮ɄⱤ₦ Ø₦ ɎØɄ. ɎØɄ’ⱤɆ ₦Ø₮ ₩ØⱤ₮Ⱨ ₮ⱧɆ ฿ⱤɆ₳₮Ⱨ ł₮ ₮₳₭Ɇ₴ ₮Ø ₱ł₮Ɏ ɎØɄ. ⱠɆ₮ ₮ⱧɆ₥ ₮₳Ⱡ₭. ⱠɆ₮ ₮ⱧɆ₥ ₴₵Ɽ₳₥฿ⱠɆ ₮Ø ₴₳VɆ ɎØɄ. ɎØɄ ₭₦Ø₩ ⱧØ₩ ₮Ⱨł₴ Ɇ₦Đ₴. ɎØɄ ₳Ⱡ₩₳Ɏ₴ Ⱨ₳VɆ-

“You are not a mistake.”

The voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t a command or a demand. It was warm. Steady. Somehow familiar.

Her.

Not here physically, but it echoed through him all the same—like a thread of sunlight winding through a storm cloud. And suddenly, he could breathe. Just barely. Bob exhaled, trembling. His fists loosened. The vice around his chest didn’t disappear, but it shifted. Lightened, like the weight was now being shared. All he could hear was his heartbeat and her voice, from days ago, echoing through him like a prayer he didn’t deserve:

Life doesn’t conquer the Void. It reaches it. Offers a hand, not a sword.

And he wanted—god, he wanted—to reach back.

But what if his hand wasn’t his anymore?

He winced, flinching as if struck. One hand reached up to grip his temple, fingertips pressing hard into his skin. A sharp pain bloomed behind his eyes—not from the voice, but from his own resistance to it. The Void didn’t scream anymore. It didn’t need to.

Now, it cooed. It whispered in familiar tones, seductive and patient. It came wearing his own voice, softened with mock pity, with poisoned comfort.

₳ⱧⱧ… Ⱡł₣Ɇ, ₴₮łⱠⱠ ₳ ₱Ɇ₴₭Ɏ ₩Ø₥₳₦, ₮Ⱨł₦₭ł₦₲ ₴ⱧɆ ₵₳₦ ₱ⱤØ₮Ɇ₵₮ ɎØɄ ₣ⱤØ₥ ₥Ɇ. ₳ĐØⱤ₳฿ⱠɆ…

Bob shut his eyes, swaying slightly in place. The pressure in his skull thrummed like an earthquake waiting to breach surface. He was so tired of this. Of holding back. Of pretending his breathing didn’t feel like trying to hold the tides with trembling hands.

His heart pounded against his ribs like it wanted to be out.

The whispers didn’t vanish. The Void never did. But for once, he didn’t want to listen to it.

He didn’t want to believe in what it whispered, how it corrupted him from the inside... He only wanted to listen to You.

Your words cut deeper than any blade. Not because they hurt—but because he wanted so desperately to believe them. To deserve them. Her voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It lived in the marrow of him now, threaded through the cracks, gentle as a lullaby and stubborn as a vow.

You... Not here in the room. Not yet. But present in a way the Void could never understand. You lingered in him like warmth in winter, refusing to be extinguished, no matter how cold the world got. Maybe that was what you stood for, what your existence meant for the universe.

Life doesn’t conquer the Void. It reaches it. Offers a hand, not a sword.

He remembered the way she’d said it. Not as a plea. Not as some dramatic declaration. But like a truth older than the stars. One you’d lived.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Bob wasn’t alone inside his own mind.

He blinked. Slowly sat upright from the crouching position he found himself just before reaching the door to the living room. His eyes—sunken, tired—lifted toward the team, still arguing, still fighting over what to do with him.

And for a heartbeat, he let himself wonder: What if I tried to believe her? Anyone?... Myself? Just once?

“…I—um…” It slipped out. Barely louder than the hum of the ceiling vent. Not a declaration. Not even a statement. More like a sound that escaped before he could smother it.

Silence fell like a guillotine. The arguing stopped.

Ava froze mid-gesture. Yelena, leaning back in her chair, tilted her head slightly, eyes worried at the obvious wincing expression of his face was still apparent. Even Bucky stilled, his expression sharpening—not with judgment, but attention.

Bob shrank in on himself slightly, shoulders tensing as if expecting a blow. He didn’t look at anyone. Just stared down at the floor, fingers twitching around the hem of his sleeve.

“…I heard what she said,” he murmured, almost to himself. “About… being ready.”

Silence stretched. It made the air feel thick. “I don’t know what that means. Not really,” he went on, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I—I don’t feel ready. I don’t even feel real half the time. Like I’m just… holding space until the bad part wakes up again.”

His chest hitched with the start of a breath he didn’t want to finish. He dug his nails into his palms. No one moved. The air was heavy, like the room itself was holding its breath.

“I’m scared of what’s in me. Scared of me.” His voice shook now, just a little, like it was something fragile being held too tightly. He couldn’t help but shake a bit, or maybe it was the tower itself, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he was overwhelmed and that there was a small quake on where he stood

“Bob, you don’t have to-” Bucky started, feeling a bit guilty that he didn’t first explain it to him when they were alone. He knew how the team could be so reckless and loud when it came to secrets or a secret plan. Hell, even Val might have heard at this point and he wouldn’t know. However, considering the head space Bob was in most of the days, he cared about his...friend, as reluctant as he was to call him, and his well-being, more than a bitch who uses anything and anyone for her benefit.

“N-No... I need to let it out, I need to speak.” It was a plea, it almost sounded like a plea by how breathless and pained it left Bob. So much so that even John had lowered his guards and listened to him with a complex look on his face. Understanding. Apprehension. Confusion. Care.

After Bucky’s nod of approval, Bob took a deep breath, put his book down on the table awkwardly and looked at his friends, the friends he was going to explain the dark side of him for the first time.

“Every time I think maybe I can try again, I hear it. Him. The Void. It tells me all the ways I’ll fail. All the ways I’ll hurt people again. And part of me… starts to believe it.”

His hands dropped from his sleeves and curled into fists on his knees. White-knuckled.

“But I heard her. Just now. In my head. And it felt… lighter. Not fixed. Just… not so loud.” he gave a small smile to himself, lips curling lopsidedly as he lifted his head and gave a determined no to his friends who were listening to him.

“She said I wasn’t a mistake. And for a second—just a second—it felt like I could breathe.”

His voice faltered for a moment, but he didn’t stop this time. He took a step forward the team, his team, his friends... The ones who willingly went into the Void despite knowing they would see their darkest fears, just to save him.

He owed this much to them.

“I didn’t even know I wanted to breathe,” he chuckled humorlessly, eyes still downcast, lashes heavy with something unspoken as he threw his arms carelessly, as if what he is saying didn’t matter too much. “I’ve been holding everything in for so long—like if I let even a little of it out, it’d swallow me. Swallow all of you.”

Ironıc, isn’t it? For a being who could show the biggest fears a person might have to that same person, he was afraid to reveal his own, to the only people that mattered to him know. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen weak, or bother them when they all had their troubles to deal with, besides the fact that he might have traumatized them quite badly. His breath hitched, and he rubbed the heel of his palm against his eye—not crying, not really, but too close for comfort.  He laughed, but it was broken, breathless. More of a release than a sound of humor. “It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. One sentence from a goddess and suddenly I think maybe I’m not cursed? Or maybe it wasn’t even her, maybe my fucked up m-mind is making u-up things...” he waved his hand dismissively as if he was speaking nonsense but still risked a glance up. Not at all of them. Just Bucky. The one who had gone to her. The one who hadn’t given up.

Bucky smiled at him brotherly, nodding at him. “It’s not stupid... She does that sometimes.”

“I think…” He faltered again after a smile, swallowing hard. “I think I want to try. If… if someone shows me how.”

He looked up again. Not just at Bucky this time. At all of them.

The room didn’t erupt. No one clapped or consoled him. But no one looked away, either. Ava, whose guarded stance had softened into something like protective stillness.Yelena, who now leaned forward, fingers laced together, eyes watching him like he wasn’t a threat, but a person. Even John—arms slack, frown etched deeper—not cold or dismissive, but present. Listening.

“I’m not asking for you to fix me. I don’t think anyone can.” Bob’s voice dropped lower. “But I think… if I have to carry this… I don’t want to do it alone anymore.”

His shoulders trembled, and his small, self-effacing smile flickered back. The kind someone makes when they’re afraid of what comes next.

“I think that’s what she meant. When she said I had to be ready.”

Then, softer, almost like he was testing the words in his mouth for the first time in years-

“I think I am.”

And for once, Bob didn’t feel like a monster being studied... as his friends smiled at him, all of them carrying their own way of genuine care for him as he found himself doing the same, releasing the breath he was holding. That was their way of silently encouraging him, a silent gesture of  “You are not alone.”...

He felt like a man, asking for help... That was when he heard it.

Beep.

Soft. Sharp. Out of place.

Bucky’s brow furrowed.

Beep-beep.

The sound was coming from his pocket. Mechanical, almost crystalline. Faintly melodic. Everyone turned toward him as he reached in, fingers closing around the cool, unfamiliar weight of the device—the one the Queen had given him when they last spoke. The one she said to use only when the time was right.

When he was ready.

He drew it out slowly.

A small disc, no larger than his palm, etched with ancient runes that shimmered faintly beneath the surface. It had been inert for days—dull, cold, unresponsive. But now it pulsed with light, soft and golden, like the first break of dawn and the little wings sprouting from it now fluttering, creating a glowing halo. Her insignia—a sigil shaped like a blooming star cradled by twin arcs—glowed at its center.

It was responding.

Bob’s breath caught in his throat. The glowing light from the device reflected off the metal around the room, casting soft golden halos that danced across his face and the floor—but his eyes stayed locked on it. Unblinking. Disbelieving. Like it wasn’t real.

“It’s her,” Bucky said, his voice quiet with awe, laced with certainty. “She knows.”

The glow intensified for a moment, then dimmed to a steady rhythm—heartbeat-like. Not urgent. Not demanding.

Just… ready.

The device warmed in Bucky’s hand, and a voice—not a full message, but a feeling—brushed against his thoughts. Gentle. Reassuring. Her voice, even if it didn’t speak words, rang inside his mind.

He is ready. And I am waiting.

The rest of the Thunderbolts didn’t speak, but the shift in the room was palpable. Yelena crossed her arms with a soft exhale—half scoff, half smile. It was the kind of smile that didn't quite reach her eyes—a guarded, skeptical expression she wore whenever things felt too strange for her liking.

“Of course she’s watching. Creepy glowing Queen of the cosmos…” But the words were hollow, and Yelena could feel it. She didn’t want to admit it, but there was something undeniably… comforting about the idea of the Queen watching and the device starting to activate when Bob finally explained his thoughts to them. Something that made her feel less alone in this chaos, even if she couldn’t bring herself to fully accept it...because of the past.

The past of her, Natasha...and the so-called Life that didn’t do anything to save her sister, despite being close friends.

Ava stepped back slightly, eyes narrowing at the device like it might explode. “Are we seriously going to Asgard right now?”

John just rubbed a hand across his jaw, glancing from Bucky to Bob, then back to the still-glowing disc. “Guess the gods are calling.”

“Well,” she said with a small shrug, trying to reclaim some of her usual nonchalance, as he glanced at Bob. “if she’s waiting for you, then I guess it’s your call. But don’t expect me to be all warm and fuzzy about it.” She shot a wry smile at him, as if to soften the edges of her words. “I’m not exactly a fan of gods popping in to solve my problems.”

Bob continued to stare at it, wide-eyed. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Bucky stood and turned toward him, still holding the device as it pulsed between his fingers like a living thing.

“You said you wanted someone to show you how,” he said gently. “She’s the only one who can. And I think she’s been waiting for this moment longer than either of us knew.”

The device glowed once more—brighter now. Not as a warning.

As a doorway.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

the look of love ⟡ ; chapter 01

the look of love masterpost

the look of love playlist

word count : 1.3k

cw : afab!reader

oh your sweet disposition, and my wide eyed gaze - taylor swift, all too well

the first thing you noticed about the facility was its color.

an eyesore emitting dark blue, one that you would hate to see in the summer. it would probably be radiating heat underneath the sweltering sunlight. thank god it was currently autumn and almost winter. your cab pulled to a halt, stopping in front of the enormous building located in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere.

“thanks,” you told your driver, stepping out of the cab. it felt weird, not having to pay for the ride. but according to the woman who you had spoken to earlier--if you could remember correctly, anri was her name--, you were his superior because you were a direct worker of the facility. the driver didn't answer you, only giving you a slight nod as you exited the car.

even the car was painted the same shade of blue.

you knew this whole program was called blue lock, but even a name as evident as that had to have had its limits, right? who was even funding this whole thing anyway? the japanese football union? either way, this had to have cost millions, maybe even billions. walking into the facility, you immediately noticed the plastic lighting and lack of windows.

this was going to be a long few months.

sitting at a table right in front of the entrance was anri, her eyes scanning through dozens of papers. “hi! nice to see that you made it.” anri stated, practically bouncing out of her chair. she handed you a stack of papers. “these are all 300 of the participants. hopefully you understood how the first selection and team structures work so far from the emails.”

the program had sent you emails upon emails, explaining everything about the blue lock program. the first selection was to weed out the weakest players, and they would lie to each stratum about how they were the lowest of the low. they would then proceed with the second selection, and hopefully, a match against the u20 japan team would then be scheduled.

you nodded. "yeah, i did. thank you.” your eyes glossed over each name and team, hoping to recognize anything familiar. itoshi--maybe that was the sibling of itoshi sae? mikage--was that the fucking mikage corporation? how did they even manage to get such a big name here? but one single name stuck out to you.

isagi yoichi, ichinan high school, saitama. age 17. team z #5 (299)

ichinan high school was not only where you went for high school, but isagi was also an acquaintance of yours. you weren't in the same class this year, but you were both in the same class for your first and second year of middle school, along with your first year of high school. you talked with him occasionally, and he was nice. he, similar to you, had always been a loner at school, so you always had a bit of a soft spot for him.

someone as meek and gentle as him wouldn't be able to survive here so easily.

“you're here as a psychologist, right?” anri asked. “i don't want you to be some sort of elite vip watching the hunger games, so i hope you can help out with chores or at least help out with talking to the players and being a friend to them. i'm not sure how ego would feel about that, but it probably isn't fun to have the belief that everyone here is your enemy.”

“oh, sure.” you were a bit taken aback by her words; she was much more blunt than you expected. “i don't mind. i can talk to them. and i'll try to do anything that you need me to do.”

“good. do you want to go around the facility first to just get used to the formatting of this location? if you couldn't tell, it's pretty large.” anri recommended. “the players should probably be changing right now. their tag game will be starting soon.”

you nodded. you obviously didn't want to watch them change, but their tag games would surely be entertaining. “alright then. i'll meet you back here later. text me if you need anything.” with that, you began to walk through the air-conditioned hallways. it was a bit colder than you had expected, but maybe that made sense because most of the residents here are athletes.

you wanted to watch all of the team z members playing the tag game. they were the lowest of the low, so you expected them to take the easy route to survive and just eliminate the player of the lowest rank. it would be interesting, seeing how the lowest will act just for just a small chance of salvation.

it was best to get familiar with this strange new location, especially since you'll be living here from now on. not only that, but you'll be paid for working here. technically, you're an intern here who's studying for psychology, but from anri's words, you sounded more like a manager.

maybe it wasn't the best idea to apply for a job that you had not much information about after all, but the pay was certainly worth it. it was at least above the minimum wage in japan. four million yen per year. that's not too bad.

but as you walked, your mind continued to wander back to isagi. you’ve known him since what, elementary school? around there. you were only 6 when you first met him, and yet his personality hasn’t changed much. still the same docile, demure kid.

plus, he wasn’t the brightest either. you couldn’t name a single time he received a good grade on an assignment that he did by himself. he always barely passed tests, though from what you heard, it was because he often stayed up late not to study but to watch soccer matches. his looks were better than a lot of people said, but you weren’t one to give pretty privilege. he was rather unnoticeable, and you wouldn't be betting on him during a gamble.

unfortunately, the first four team z teams were exhaustingly repetitive and almost boring. they all went for number 300, only targeting the member of the lowest rank. the most interesting member in the first four team z’s was a guy with blue hair but looked like a girl. if you could remember correctly, hiori was his name.

finally, you reached the final team z. the one that isagi was in. hopefully, isagi will pass this tag game. you placed your hand on the handle, inhaling a breath before pushing the door open and taking a step in.

the intensity was enough to stiffen your entire body.

there were only four seconds on the clock, and isagi was in possession of the ball. and yet, the four ticks of the clock were happening awfully slowly. the two seconds felt like forever, and yet you couldn’t even bring yourself to mind.

your eyes were fixated on isagi. for some reason, there was almost a strange blue fire in isagi’s eyes. his irises were locked to the ball, his lips mouthing something that you could faintly make out as “the strongest person.”

did isagi always have that look in his eyes?

you could only stare in awe. in that moment, he looked like the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. from each and every contour of his face to the slight part of his lips; you wouldn’t mind looking at this sight forever. your eyes put the stars to shame at that moment.

maybe it was infatuation. maybe it was just admiration. maybe it was the excitement of finding something new that you're now curious in. maybe it's the feeling of discovering something new. maybe it's the feeling of finding something with the potential to change the world in the future. or maybe it was just interest. but whatever it was, you knew you wanted to stay with isagi for longer now.

maybe he wasn’t as unnoticeable as you’d thought after all.

taglist :

@neeeooon @risagichi @isagistar @kuronarnze @beepbopzlorp @blu3-l0v3r @fishboneee @realrintaro @imgonnasob @n0tbelle @introspectiveintroverthere enjoy bbgs🫶

[taylormarieee]

~you fell in love sweetheart~

A dean winchester drabble

Summary: you didn't expect to fall in love with your bestfriend, but it just kinda happened. no turning back now, you fell in love sweetheart.

word count: 1.6k

pairing: dean winchester x fem!bestfriend!reader

Warnings: some arguing, dean being a tease, reader being a bit tough, kissing, reader gets put in danger, some backstory on reader, and anything else im missing!

A/N: heyyyyy!!!! I'm backkkkkk! I HOPE I'M BACK TO STAY FOR A WHILE! such bad brain farts! I COULD NOT for the life of me come up with fic ideas. I know i still have some inboxes from a while ago so hopefully I can get back to those and my unfinished series! LOVE YOU GUYS! so glad I'm back on your screens!

you wouldn't say you're in love with dean winchester.

but to say the least, you were falling in love with dean winchester.

it scared you a lot, considering all that was on your mind was breaking his heart or worse, getting rejected and losing the best friendship you've ever had.

you were very reserved at times, before you even worked with the winchesters, you worked with your dad.

your dad trusted you and after your mom and dad split, you chose to stay with him.

you always researched and he would go out and find the damn thing(s) that were terrorizing innocent people.

you were like sam to your father. you were resourceful, helpful. you think about the times you helped your dad alot.

it motivates you to do the same for the winchesters. maybe more heavily for dean if you know what i mean.

today as always was just a normal day, or whatever hunters call a normal day.

you all stopped by bobby's place to get insight on a shapeshifter that was terrorizing young women by killing their partners and then killing the women.

you and sam are debriefing with bobby and dean about the case, well... more like arguing.

"dean thats stupid." sam says aggressively with his hands on his hips. you standing next to the younger brother with the same look of disbelieve on your face.

"so what your telling me is you want to use me as bait for our little woman killer." you say death glaring at dean.

"well it's not my best idea-" he starts off.

you interrupt saying, "you think!?" with an incredulous look on your face.

"as i was saying... it's not my best idea but it could work. there are billions of people in the world. who knows where this shapeshifter is hiding?" he says

"yeah and only a population of 200 in this town. I'm sure we can easily narrow this down to a certain village of people and track the damn thing down." sam informs.

"but he moves from town to town. there are similar repots in Michigan, Texas, Colorado, and others matching his description. reports that date back months, years even." bobby says scattering a bunch of newspaper reports on the desk.

"look, as much as i don't want to put you in danger cupcake, your are only solution at stoping this son of a bitch." dean says staring at you.

bobby and sam join in looking at you to see what your final answer is.

your too worried about the nickname he just gave you to process anything else.

so distracted the words slipped right out of your mouth before you could think.

"sure thing handsome." as the words leave your mouth, everyone in the room had a different reaction.

sam jerked his head and squinted his eyes in confusion, bobby shook his head and put his head down, and dean had the biggest smirk on his face.

you internally face palm. "uhm i mean yea i totally got this, but you all owe me a beer later." you say clearing your throat, the awkward tension clearly growing in the room.

"i'm uh, gonna take a walk." you say pointing towards the door before grabbing your leather jacket and walking out.

bobby and sam give dean a 'go after her' look and he stutters before rushing out after you.

"hey wait!" he yells out closing bobby's door. "wait for me, i wanna come too." he says.

you turn around and stop walking, eyes squinted in this South Dakota heat.

soon he catches up to you and you both give each other a tight-lipped smile before walking again.

"so, your really up for this huh?" he asks as you guys sit in his car.

"yea i guess can't stand the feeling of hearing about another dead girl and her spouse. it just sickens me you know? like sometimes i think about my mom and dad. what would i have done if i was in that situation? watching or reading in a newspaper about how my mom was killed and my dad? i would be angry."

you take a deep breath in and close your eyes for a few seconds, a technique your dad taught you to control your emotions.

"you okay?" dean asks. "yea i'll be okay, just trying to put myself in these women's shoes." you sigh.

"quick question. what did you mean by that back there. the nickname?" you ask, fidgeting with deans cassette tapes.

"oh cupcake? i don 't know, it just kind of slipped out. guess it was something to reassure you since you were shooting daggers my way." he says with a chuckle.

you giggle with him, "i guess your right, thanks." you say urning to face towards him.

"uh yea no problem." he responds. there's this silence between you two. not an awkward silence but a comfortable silence. one that's been shared many times before.

"so are we going anywhere or are we just going to sit here until i'm used as bait later tonight?" you ask kicking your feet up on his dashboard.

"I don't know? did you want to go somewhere?" he asks.

"well i did just say something didn't I?" you bark back.

"oookay so someones feeling a little bit sassy, did you put a stick up your ass?" he said chuckling as he starts the engine.

"no, but it'll be up your ass in a second if you don't start driving." you respond with your hands crossed over your chest.

"hey, this is my car. i'll drive when i want to." he says putting his foot to the gas and driving out the parking lot.

you guys finally make your way to a food joint and of course dean orders fries, a burger, and some pie.

you decided to order fries, a milkshake and a cheeseburger. you roll your eyes at dean, his obsession with pie grinding your gears but you don't say anything.

"god, whoever invented pie, needs some serious sex handed to them." he says munching on his pie.

"then why don't you go find the person who invented pie and fuck em yourself?"

"seriously whats your-" he trails off before proceeding to laugh his ass off.

"what's funny winchester?" you question. he continues to bawl and in the process, he almost drops his pie.

"i know what's got your panties in a bunch." he says.

"oh yea and whats that winchester?" you question with your deathly glare.

"you need some. like badly." he says smirking.

"I need some what? that nasty ass pie? I'm good thank you."

"no no no, not the pie, well maybe some cream pie but what i'm trying to say is you need to get fucked. your ass is all riled up and your just taking your anger out on me dummy. when was the last time you had sex huh virgin?" he chuckles at that last part.

you stare at him and then punch him in his nose. "you wanna know whens the last time a man fucked me winchester? well it was your brother 3 days ago, so suck on that asshole."

"what?" he says sternly holding his nose.

"you heard me." you say.

"god you really are a bitch aren't you?" he says before getting out the car to go throw away the leftover trash in the car.

you sit there and think about what you said quietly scolding yourself for what you just said.

god why couldn't you just tell him. tell him that he is all you want. he's your type, he's the one you pray to be with, he's the one you've fallen madly in love with. not his brother.

the car door opens again and the car shakes a bit from deans force to sitting in the drivers seat.

"look dean, about what I said- i'm sorry. I didn't mean it. me and your brother have never slept together because he's not the winchester I want." you take a deep breath and stare out your window.

"I like you dean. I know i'm pretty shitty at showing it but i've been your best friend for years. I never would have expected myself to fall this deeply for you or even fall in love with you at all, but these last couple of weeks have changed for me. I've started to notice how handsome you really are and notice that I really have liked you for so long I've just suppressed the feelings. I hope this doesn't scare you off but I think I'm in love with you dean winchester." you look down at your fingers as your eyes close at hearing the words come out of your mouth.

"wow cupcake, never thought i'd hear you say the words." he says with a chuckle.

he guides his hand to your chin and lifts your head up to look at him.

"you fell in love sweetheart, and so have I." he says before looking down at your lips and smashing his together with yours.

warm lips touching your slightly cold ones. his warm hand sending electric sparks to your body.

his tongue slightly slipping past and mingling with your own. the feeling is euphoric and it's loving.

you break off and stare at him, "so you like me too?" you ask.

"duh, I've liked you for a while actually, surprised you haven't noticed."

"oh your such an ass, guys make the first moves not girls!" you say covering your face in embarressment.

he chuckles and grabs your hands before placing one more kiss on your lips.

"eh, didn't have the balls just yet." he says and you laugh as he starts the car again and you both drive back off to bobby's.

Taglist:@dollyfl1rt@itzdarling@sammyluvr@liliesdiary@ribbonprincess @bellahadidnt16 @iilovefictionalpeople @aerangi @keiva1000 @madafton @niktwazny303 @prettyluhdavis @kqmbr1a @nuemanfilms + anyone else who wants to join

[motorsportbarbie13]

One New Voicemail (Charles' Version)

your relationship with charles as told through voicemails

(i can't believe how well these are doing! i'm so glad you guys like these!! this one is specifically for @lestapiastrisgirl <3 hopefully this helps my charles girlies cope with cha being knocked out of q2 as i put this together...2k words)

First Date 

“I cannot believe I hit your neighbors car tonight.” Charles’ cheeks flame with embarrassment. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“That’s one hell of a first date story we’ll be able to tell our grandkids.”

Pause. Charles suddenly realizes he might have just made this voicemail awkward. His eyes close, cheeks heating again. Why does he lose all sense of decorum and control around you?

He presses on. 

“I took you out, swept you off your feet…” Another pause, as if he’s replaying the entire evening in his head, checking to make sure his perception of the evening matched the reality. “I hope…”

He clears his throat. Moving on. 

“And then BAM! Straight into a parked car. I am stupid.” It’s the same tone as that famous radio message and you are crying laughing.  

“The FIA going to take away my super license next time. Please don’t tell Ferrari. I’ll never live this down.” Charles shakes his head, eyes rolling at the memory of the crunching sound his Ferrari made and the laughter that spilled out of you after the incident. 

“I hope my inability to park hasn’t scared you away. I swear I’m usually smoother…” 

‘Usually’ being the key word there. 

Until he was less than a foot away from you in his car, your perfume so intoxicating that he’ll never get off of his mind.

“You just make me so nervous.” The vulnerability in his voice makes your heart squeeze. 

“I was looking at you, listening to you laugh at my stupid jokes when I should have been watching where I was going.” Had he known you’d be wearing that little black dress and sky high heels, he would’ve hired a driver for the night. 

“In my defense, you are so pretty when you laugh and parallel parking is hard.” 

God, he hoped he hadn’t screwed this up. He already can’t stop thinking about you. 

“Can I make it up to you with a second date? Please?” 

And maybe a third. And fourth. And fifth?

Click. 

First Kiss 

“Mon dieu…” Charles sighs into the phone, lovesick and drunk on you. 

“First I hit your neighbors car and then the poor woman catches us making out on the stoop.” He scrubs his hand over his face. He’s going to have to pay for you to move apartments, he’s so embarrassed. Charles will never be able to face your silver-haired neighbor ever again. 

“She stood there for a long time though…which is weird.” 

He chuckles finally, picturing the way she had stood there for several moments, glaring at you two, hands on her hips. 

“I don’t think she likes me. Which, fair I guess.” 

Charles been so lost in the fact that he’d finally worked up the courage to kiss you that he hadn’t heard the door creak open. Or the way your neighbor cleared her throat. Loudly. Six times. 

“In my defense, that was the best first kiss turned first make out session I’ve ever had.” 

Charles was ruined after that kiss. The way you had touched him, drug your fingernails across the back of his neck, up into his hair. Tugged a little bit. 

A groan rumbles in the back of his throat as he turns the key to his newly-repaired Ferrari. 

“If I promise not to try to make out with you in front of your neighbor, can we do it again?” 

Something tugs deep in his gut at the thought of seeing you again. “I have to go to Maranello tomorrow for testing but I’ll be back Wednesday.” 

That was in two days time. Two days too long. 

For the both of you. 

“Please apologize to your neighbor again. I swear I’ll keep my hands to myself next time.” 

A pause. You can picture the grin sliding across his face.

“At least until we get inside.” 

Click.  

He Questions Everything

“I can’t do this anymore.” The anguish in his voice has your stomach twisting when you listen to the message. 

It was late where you were. Or early. He didn’t know. He was in Las Vegas, you were in Monaco. Too many miles and too much heartache. 

“I’ve given that team my entire heart. My youth. My best years and this is what they do? They can’t even listen to my suggestions. Can’t help but blunder themselves into P10 when I should’ve been on the podium.” 

He’s rambling now. You’re his safe space though. The only one who won’t call him petty or ungrateful. Won’t judge or call him out. You see the pain his team causes him. The way he gives them everything and then some and still is expected to give more. 

The line goes quiet for several moments. You think maybe he hung up, but the message keeps going. 

Silence stretches but it’s full of everything he can’t bring himself to say. 

“Red Bull’s been sniffing around, with Max retiring. Merc too, with George on his way to Cadillac.” He hadn’t told you this. Hadn’t told anyone outside of his manager. Charles was almost afraid to talk about it, even with you. 

Because if he said it out loud, it meant he was considering leaving his home. 

“Ferrari has…well, they’ve given me everything but…” 

A sigh so deep and full of everything he can’t put words to. It feels disloyal to even think the things that have been turning over in his mind since he took the checkered flag hours ago.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” 

The sound of a suitcase zippering. 

“I’m coming home. Can we spend the next two weeks somewhere warm so I can just stare at you in a bikini and forget the hell that this team puts me through?” 

The thud of his suitcase echos. 

“Please?” 

Click. 

A Surprise

“Before I tell you what I just did, I would like to remind you that I love you more than life, mon ange.” 

You had frozen mid-step in the hallway of the apartment listening to that opening line. 

“It’s really a funny story, to be honest. I think you’ll laugh.” At least that’s what Charles was banking on.

“It all started when Joris and I went to see an old friend of his after the gym today. He needed to get something for the car he’s been working on and this guy had the part.” 

This story was suspiciously twisty and curvy, even for your boyfriend.

“So we get there and there are puppies EVERYWHERE.” 

At that very moment, a little yip comes across the line and Charles groans. 

“Leo!” He scolds. 

Oh, great. He’s already named him. This was not going to end well. 

“Leo!” He repeats. “Now you’ve gone and spoiled the surprise.” 

Leo yips again, louder this time. Like he’s just discovered he can make that kind of noise. 

“Surprise!” Charles says weakly. 

“He was the runt of the litter. He’s blonde. Like you!” 

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Charles knows he’s in trouble. 

“I mean…” 

Leo barks. Charles tuts. 

“I’ll be home in ten. You’re going to love him, I promise!” 

He hoped. 

Click. 

He Feels Left Out

“What on earth were you texting Maman today, amore?” Charles grumbles into the phone. 

“She was giggling like a school girl anytime she looked at her phone.” He slots the key into the front door. 

The lock clicks. 

Leo barks. 

You’re in Paris for work, missing your boys. 

“And then she refused to tell me what you were talking about.” 

It’s so cute when your boyfriend gets jealous of your relationship with his mother. It was innocent though. You had sent her a meme making fun of Charles’ most recent parking accident on the streets of Monaco. 

Charles was just so easy to tease. 

“All she would say was that she was talking to you and that you were having a very funny conversation.” 

A pause. The jingle of Leo’s leash. 

You can practically feel the pout on his face. 

“Probably at my expense, no?” 

The elevator to your flat dings and Leo barks again. It’s about time for his nightly walk but you can tell Charles is still grumpy by the way he won’t let this go.

“What were you two talking about?” He whines. 

If FOMO had a spokesperson, it was Charles LeClerc. 

“You two are so mean to me.” He pouts. 

“I love you. Call me later.”

Click. 

Grocery Store Fumble

“Amore, we have a problem.” You can tell Charles is desperately trying not to panic. 

“Why are there so many tube shaped green vegetables at this market?” 

He stands in the middle of the produce section of your tiny grocery store. You were a few blocks away, in the middle of cooking dinner. 

“Whoever thought it was a good idea to put the cucumbers next to the zucchinis has a sick sense of humor.” He grouses. 

Theres a rustle of plastic as he opens the produce bag. You had just asked for one zucchini and now Charles was spiraling. 

“The sign says ‘Cucumbers and Zucchinis! Buy 2 get 2 free!” He’s panicking. “What kind of sick joke is this?”

Dinner rests squarely on his shoulders and right now, it’s not looking so good. 

“Does it matter?” He asks like he’s expecting an answer. Like he’s not talking to your voicemail. 

“Can you use a cucumber instead?” Deep breath. “What if I get this wrong?” 

He picks up two green vegetables, one long and skinny, wrapped in plastic and another shorter, thicker, a deeper green. His eyes scan the deserted store. No one was around to help. 

He was on his own. 

“How different can they be? They’re both green. Both long and skinny. Although this one is a little…thicker.” 

The giggle that starts low in his throat has you rolling your eyes when you listen to the message a few hours later. 

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.” 

A frustrated sigh morphs into a groan. 

“You know what? I make professional athlete money. I’ll buy all the green vegetables so that way I don’t get yelled at for being stupid. Again.” 

He’s so dramatic.

Another bag rustles open. 

“I’ll be home soon. I love you.” 

Click. 

A Song For You

Soft strains of music float across the line. Charles doesn’t speak. Doesn’t actually realize he’s accidentally called you. He’s at his piano, lost in the piece he’s working on while you’re away on a trip. He’s missing you fiercely and coping the only way he knows how: music. 

The song meanders on for several moments. Soft. Careful. You can feel the adoration he’s pouring into every note, even through the muffled sounds of his phone being tucked away in his pocket. 

He doesn’t know he’s giving you the best gift. 

The music dies and it’s quiet. 

“Do you like it, Leo?” Charles rasps, his voice unsteady. 

Leo doesn’t answer, just lifts his head to look at your boyfriend. 

“Do you think she’ll like it?” He sounds…nervous. 

Charles rarely gets nervous. 

Except when it comes to you. 

“I’ve been working on it for ages now and it’s finally coming together. Finally feels like it’s a reflection of how I feel when I look at her.” 

A heavy pause. He still doesn’t realize the phone is recording his confession to Leo.

“I’m going to marry your mama one day.” He tells the dog. 

“I’m going to marry her and this is the song that’s going to play when she walks down the aisle towards me.” 

A few notes drift across the line again. Delicate. Like he’s piecing together a puzzle. 

“She is everything, Leo.” 

His voice his reverent, like he’s planning on getting down on his knees and worshipping you the next time he sees you. 

“Your mama has the prettiest eyes, doesn’t she? The prettiest smile? And when she laughs. God, when she laughs it’s like the sun finally peaking out from behind a days worth of storm clouds. Bright. Warm. Everything.” 

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “And she turns me into a total sap apparently.” 

A sigh. 

“I miss her.” 

You’ve only been gone for 24 hours. 

“Do you miss her? I miss her, Leo. I know she’ll be home soon but…” 

A pause as he reaches for his phone to call you. Chuckles when he sees he already has. 

“Hello, amore. I guess you heard all of that, oui? Come back to Leo and I. We miss you. I have something I want to play for you.” 

Another pause. 

“I love you.” 

Click. 

[alltaternotot]

Everything Harmony | A. Newhook

Summary: The time Alex helped you, and the time you helped him.

A/N: forgive me for the long hiatus!! Writer’s block is crazy. Anyway, I’m a Newy truther, so here’s a little fluffy thing for you :). I guess it’s a 1+1? This one suits a sequel so I might do that too!!

CW: SFW! strangers to lovers, accidental injury (nothing insane), being uncomfortable at a bar, alcohol, fluff, fluff, more fluff. Not edited at all. Hopefully you like it!

<><><><>

To you, there was nothing like a hike in the springtime.

It was the perfect temperature outside, sun shining, birds just beginning to chirp again. The flowers along the trails were beginning to bloom, the colors creating a mosaic at your feet. The irresistible smell of pine and flora invaded your nose as you walked. Virtually nothing could make you happier.

It was your New Year’s resolution to get out and hike more regularly, and you had somehow not only stuck to it but fell in love with it. Usually, you hiked this trail with your roommate, the two of you lightly talking as you walked, but she had gone to her parents' house to deal with something urgent. It was you and the world around you for today.

This hike was maybe 45 minutes to an hour outside of Montreal, scenic but not too remote. It was a shorter hike, only about 3 miles all the way around, with a lot of flat ground and minimal obstacles.

You didn’t bring much with you, a small fanny pack with a few protein bars and a tiny first aid kit the only things in there. The dirt crunching underfoot set a rhythm for you as you walked, your mind quiet and peaceful in a rare moment of bliss. The occasional person passed by too, smiles and waves exchanged. Only about half a mile in, and you were already fully immersed in the beauty all around you.

The path bent around a corner covered by a massive group of trees, then began to climb just a little bit, with little ledges made of rock and tree roots sticking out to make the incline easier. You stepped up and up, watching your footing as you went. You had hiked this patch of path about 50 times, the path always steady and unwavering. You made it up to the final rock ledge, allowing your weight to rest on it.

Suddenly, the rock gave way, sending you sliding down the incline. It was a blur of dust and branches, breaking the peaceful bubble you had been building. You landed at the bottom of the incline, twigs poking your skin through your clothes and your ankle throbbing. You doubled over, your hands finding your leg in an adrenaline-fueled attempt to stop the pain shooting up from your ankle.

“Owww fuck!” You hissed to yourself, willing the pain to ebb so you could at least stand and get off the path.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” A masculine voice sounded from in front of you.

You found it somewhere within you to look up and acknowledge whoever it was, finding a young, handsome, brunette stranger staring at you with worry covering his features. You paled at the thought of this stranger seeing you take the world’s hardest fall. He squatted down to your level, examining what he could.

“Yeah, yeah, yes, totally. I just need to walk it off…” you rambled, attempting to stand up, touching your toe down on the ground, “see? Totally fine!” You gritted through your teeth.

“Okay, you are definitely not fine. Let’s get you to the side of the trail at least.” He said, reaching for your arm so he could act as a crutch. “I think we need to get that boot off."

Before you could really register what was happening, he reached for your laces and began to pull the bow apart, pulling the laces out as far as he could before pulling your hiking boot off. The pain was extraordinary, hot daggers shooting up from your ankle. As he peeled your sock down, as gently as he could, you noticed how swollen your whole foot was already. Your ankle looked like a purple baseball.

"Shit, that's not good." you murmured, mostly to yourself.

"Hang on, I have a first aid kit," he said, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a large bag labeled with the cross. "Let's at least stabilize this thing and go from there, okay?"

You nodded, the pain causing hot tears to pool in your eyes. He worked quickly, pulling out the little plastic splint with a bandage. Your ankle was stable before you knew it, tightly bound and elevated on his backpack. He even tied your discarded boot to the strap of his backpack, your sock stuffed into it. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, causing a dull ache between the sharp stabs of pain at any minor movement.

“Do you have someone I can call for you?” He asked, pulling out his cell.

“No, my roommate isn’t available till tomorrow at the earliest.” You murmured, trying to ignore the throb, “plus, we don’t have cell service.”

"Okay, let's hang out for a moment till we can figure out how to get you back to the trailhead." He said, coming to sit next to you on the ground with a huff, “your arm’s bleeding a little bit…”

He reached into the first aid bag, pulling out a cleaning pad and a bandaid. He gently grabbed your arm, wiping the dirt away before pressing the little pad into the scrape. The sting from the alcohol pad prickled your skin, but it was over before you knew it

"What's your name, stranger?" You were going to blame the awkward transition on the adrenaline wearing off.

He smiled, offering a large hand, "I'm Alex, nice to meet you."

"I'm Y/N," you said, taking some comfort in his warm hand, "I'm really sorry about all of this, hopefully you can finish your hike."

"Don't be sorry! I'll do it some other day. For now though, we need to get you to an urgent care." he said, standing up and swinging his backpack over his shoulders, setting your injured foot down gently, “ready to try? It's only about a half of a mile to the trailhead from here."

Nerves ran through you at the thought of trying to fumble your way all the way back to your car without doing any more damage. You took his hand, letting him pull you up. He swung his arm under you on your injured side, letting you get settled. You both took slow steps, his strong frame acting as a support. Every few feet, you had to stop, adjust, and start again. Over and over and over again.

“Okay this isn’t working.” You rushed out, frustrated, sitting down on an old stump next to the trail. You were both out of breath, not even 100 feet into your journey.

Alex set his backpack down, crouching to take a breather, “what if you wear my backpack and I carry you? It isn’t that far.”

“I can’t let you do that! I can just crawl, or limp, or something-“

“I’m not letting you crawl to the trailhead Y/N. I promise I can carry you.” He deadpanned.

You eyed him suspiciously, finding nothing but certainty, and relented. You pulled his surprisingly light backpack over your shoulders, before using his wide frame to stand and hop onto his back. If your roommate saw you in this moment, you would never hear the end of it.

“Alright, hang tight.” He said, stepping out onto the path.

Surprisingly to you, this was working better than you thought. Alex was obviously very strong, not even breaking much of a sweat. You relaxed, not as worried about the journey anymore. You could feel his muscles moving underneath you, steady and strong. Even his breathing was even.

Selfishly, you took him in, finally finding a moment after all of this chaos. His hair was deep espresso brown and soft looking. His eyes were equally as brown, concentrated but friendly still. He had a bump on the bridge of his nose with a slight scar to match, full lips, and coarse stubble. He looked slightly familiar, like a distant memory of someone. If only you had met him some other way, literally any other way but this.

“You okay back there? You’re a little quiet.” He said, shooting a glance back in your direction.

“Oh! Um, yeah, just trying to focus on not moving my ankle.” You deflected, licks of hot embarrassment erupting in your stomach, “thank you, by the way, for doing this.”

“No problem, always happy to help.” He said, turning back to the path, “we’re already almost there, look.”

You could see the roofs of cars quickly coming into view, the trailhead marked with a display case of the local wildlife and a box of maps available to the public. There were benches to sit on and picnic tables to eat at, lots of families out to enjoy the beautiful weather. The sight of your car felt like seeing the promised land.

“My car’s the SUV right there.” You said, pointing to your beloved car. Luckily, your keys were within reach inside your pocket, so you reached down and clicked the unlock button.

Alex set you down gently, grabbing your passenger car door and swinging it open as far as it could go. You took a seat, your legs dangling outside of your car. Your toes, only on your injured foot, looked like little sausages poking out of the splint from all of the swelling. Absolutely mortifying.

“Let me go put my stuff away, then we can go to urgent care.” He said, same bluntness as before.

“Okay, really, I can’t let you keep doing things for me, you’ve already done so much.” You tried to reason, Alex shaking his head before you even finished talking.

“I’m not letting you drive like that, I’ll take you in your car and uber it back here once you’re all taken care of.” He explained, already sticking his hand out to take your keys.

Again, you reluctantly offer your keys up, and he grabbed them from you with a cheesy smile. He turned on his heel with his backpack in tow, unlocking a nicer looking black Audi. He tossed his backpack in and whipped back around, this time going to the drivers side and sliding the seat back to fit his larger frame. Soon enough you were on the road with the closest urgent care pulled up on your maps. Your current playlist was warbling out of your speakers on a low level, Alex’s fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

“So, Y/N. What do you do outside of hiking and twisting your ankle?” He joked, causing a chuckle to bubble out of your throat.

“Well, I only like to twist my ankle in front of cute guys so they come to my rescue.” You joked back, a wide grin curling his lips up, “but other than that, I’m currently working in a non profit for underprivileged communities.”

“Only cute guys huh?” He said, a blush creeping up your neck at the realization, “that’s really awesome, all jokes aside.”

The conversation flowed from there, the two of you talking about anything from your favorite color to your most irrational fear. In seemingly a blink, the urgent care building was in front of you, Alex hopping out before you could.

“I’m gonna go see if they have a wheelchair, stay here.” He urged, disappearing into the building and coming back out in a flash.

You gently maneuvered yourself into the seat, letting him push you inside where the receptionist was waiting with a clipboard. She handed them off to you, and Alex wheeled you right beside a row of seating, setting himself up right next to you. He was staying? After all he had done already?

“You can go get your car if you want, Alex, I’m sure I’ll be fine to take it from here.” You said, eyes not leaving the form in front of you.

“I really don’t mind, unless you really want me to leave. Your roommate isn’t here to help and there’s no way you can drive with that foot.” He reasoned, just as the nurse called the two of you back.

After lots of questions and an x-ray, the doctor came to see you, “so, your ankle is definitely sprained, a pretty severe one, but you haven’t broken anything. Youre going to have to be off of your foot for a few weeks at least, with lots of rest, ice, and elevation.” She explained, jotting down notes on a take-home sheet, “your boyfriend can go pick up some over the counter pain meds for you, and if anything gets worse don’t hesitate to call back here.”

“He’s not my-“

“No problem, doctor, thank you for seeing us so quickly.” Alex interjected, not at all phased by the insinuation that the two of you were anything more than acquainted. “I’ll make sure she’s all settled in a pain free.”

The doctor pulled out a form fitting splint and some heavier duty bandages, making a snug splint that kept you comfortable. You were simply observant, watching how she fit everything together so you could do it for yourself later on.

“If that’s all settled, you two are free to go.” She said, showing you both out. “Oh, and Newhook? Bring home that playoff ticket, eh? Do Montreal proud.”

Playoff ticket? Doing Montreal proud?

Alex had a strange, sheepish look on his face as the two of you wheeled out of the urgent care, this time with crutches in your hand. He opened the passenger door again, you sitting without hesitating this time. He silently started your car, letting it roar to life before reversing out of his spot. Soon enough, your address was pulled up on maps and your music was warbling through the sound system again.

You could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he let out a curt sigh “I’m really sorry Y/N, I swear I wanted to acknowledge my job at some point but I really didn’t want to come off as a hotshot douchebag and now I feel totally stupid-“

“That’s where I’ve seen you before! I couldn’t put my finger on it earlier!!” You said, a chuckle escaping you, visible relief washing over his features.

“So you do know me? At least a little?” He asked, thick eyebrow raising.

“Well, kind of I guess, I don’t watch every single game but I do enjoy one every once in a while.” You said, “besides, I know even more about you outside of the hockey stuff, kinda goes against the hotshot douchebag thing.”

“Like what?”

“Oh you know, the typical Prince Charming stuff. Handsome, kind, gentlemanly, funny, all that.” You joked.

Before he could come back with anything, you were in front of the parking lot of your building, your ruined-day-turned-fun coming to a close. He pulled into your parking spot after some directions, and switched your car off, two of you taking a moment to breathe. He picked up your phone, which was unlocked and sitting in one of your cup holders, and quickly typed something out.

“Here, in case you need a Prince Charming again.” He said, handing you back your cell with a new contact installed.

He held the door for you so you could awkwardly crutch your way into the lobby, and sent you a wave before pulling up the Uber app.

~*~ two months later ~*~

The night air was warm and buzzing with activity as you walked the downtown Montreal streets, searching for the bar your coworkers were currently in. The non profit you worked for had just secured some major funding for a youth program, so everyone was going out to celebrate. You were in your nicest going out outfit, Your hair was done perfectly and your makeup perfectly highlighted the look. The best part: no more splint and no more scooter-thing that your coworker Lisa had lent you. As cool as that was.

It had been a couple of months since your fateful fall on the trail and your day with Alex Newhook, who you now knew was number 15 on the Canadiens, and once upon a time number 18 on the Colorado Avalanche. You started to pay attention every time the Canadiens were playing, and your heart skipped every time you saw him flash into the zone. You even found yourself cheering, alone, in your apartment when he scored in playoffs. You were genuinely sad watching him and his team shake hands with the caps, making their exit in the first round.

Since that day you had texted him. A few times.

And he had texted back, a few times. Even sent a couple of silly selfies of him and his teammates in the gym or absolutely destroying a plate of chicken parm. As playoffs got closer, the texts tapered off. By this night, you hadn’t talked in over a month. To be perfectly honest, it wasn’t you or him in particular, it was both of you.

You wanted to reach out after the playoff exit, but the mortifying thought of being the awkward and clumsy girl he rescued reaching back out after weeks of virtually nothing turned you against it. You were positive him and his team were getting plenty of condolences from their actual friends and family. He would be okay. And so would you.

You finally reached the bar, not too far from your little apartment, and stepped inside to see it absolutely packed with an ocean of people. You recognized your coworkers all the way in the back, already drinking cocktails and laughing. The music was, somehow, not too loud, and the lights were just right for a fun and lively atmosphere. You spotted Lisa, laughing with a few of the marketing people. She seemed to spot you, waving over her head with a wide smile.

“Hi guys!!” You exclaimed, giving hugs to people you hadn’t seen in a while, “how are the cocktails?” You ask Lisa, noticing her sex on the beach complete with a little umbrella.

“They are sooooo good, you gotta go get one Y/N.” Lisa says, a slight slur in her voice telling you she’s definitely tried a couple.

You look over to the bar, and notice an absolutely massive crowd, all surrounding the bar, or rather people at the bar. Most of the crowd is women, talking to each other and trying to get the attention of the bartender. Screw it, you feel like you need a little something to start the night off. You make your way over, behind a mountain of people. Just by observing, it’s clear that most of these people aren’t even ordering anything. You begin to push your way in, weaving between people.

“S’cuse me, pardon.” You say over the music, ducking under people’s arms and around others.

“Y/N!! Baby, come here! I’ve been looking all over for you!!”

You know that voice. And the Prince Charming attached to it.

Alex Newhook was sat at the bar, with what looks like some teammates on his left, and a few women to his right, but one in particular looks like she wants to eat him alive. Alex looks severely uncomfortable, leg bouncing and arms crossed over the bar counter. He was dressed to the nines, a crisp button down with the sleeves rolled up and perfectly fitting slacks.

And he just called you baby.

“Hi baby, how was the bathroom, I missed you.” He said, pulling you practically into his lap and smacking a kiss right to your hairline.

Your jaw would have hit the floor if you hadn’t caught the “help me” eyes he was giving you.

“H-hey babe, it was fine, saw an old friend in there, we caught up for a few minutes.” You said, imagining Lisa in your mind as the ‘friend’, “who have you been talking to?” You said, glancing at the women who now looked less ravenous and more pissed.

“Oh, um, ladies, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, ladies!” He announced, gesturing between you and them.

“Hi ladies… having fun…?” You ask, awkwardness seeping into you. You were still fully seated in Alex’s lap, mind you.

“Mmhm, yeah, plenty… ooh, I think I hear our friend calling! Bye Alex.” The most intense looking one dismissed, waving her friends away with a huff at the cockblock.

After a moment, you felt Alex breathe out, visibly relaxing. Luckily the crowd had almost completely dissipated, leaving you some room to slide off his lap and steady yourself on the ground. You turned back to him, finding him and his teammates looking at you. The first thing that popped into your mind was to wave, so you gave an awkward one.

“Who’s this Newhouse?” The one you thought was Cole Caufield said.

“This is Y/N, remember the girl I helped a few months ago?” He said, all of his teammates’ eyes lighting up.

“Oh my god you’re the one with the sprained ankle!” Kaiden Guhle shouted, and everyone made a noise like they connected a whole web of dots.

“Luckily no more, I just stopped using my scooter a few weeks ago.” You said, gesturing down to show you could stand just fine in heels now, no more sausage toes or baseball ankles.

You noticed Kaiden, Cole, Juraj (who had been the one destroying chicken parm in the photos you got), and Jake Evans. They all seemed to know who you were at least, even if it was just as sprained ankle chick. They all turned back to their conversations after waving at you.

“I definitely need to buy you a drink, thank you for rescuing me.” He said, twisting the newly opened seat next to him so you could sit.

“You looked like a hostage, it’s the least I could do.” You said with a chuckle, sitting down close enough that your thighs were touching.

“Yeah they were not letting up at all.” He said, waving the bartender down from the other side, “hey, it’s really good to see you, I’m sorry I haven’t texted much.”

“It’s completely okay!! I knew you were super busy.” You said, giving the cocktail menu a once over, “I’m sorry about the playoffs by the way, you guys played great.”

“So you watched us huh?” He said, a blush creeping up your neck.

“Well I had to, after I figured out that Prince Charming was on the tv regularly, I couldn’t just let that go.” You joked, causing him to laugh too.

“What’ll ya have miss?” The bartender interrupted.

“Could I have the peach mule please?”

“Sure thing, do you want to start a tab?”

“It’ll be on mine, this one and whatever else, under Newhook.” Alex interjected, causing another blush to rise, “so, tell me about your life the last few months, you know about mine already.”

You updated him on all of the going’s on in your life, everything you could think of. He was so attentive, listening the whole time and responding with genuine feeling. He really was a breath of fresh air. The two of you sat (thighs still touching) until about midnight, when Lisa came and tapped you on the shoulder to wish you a good night, and all of the boys had disappeared.

“Well, princess charming, I think it’s time to go.” He said, stretching his card out to the bartender, who took it, “I’ve had a really, really good time.”

“Me too, it was…. Unexpected? But very enjoyable.” You answered, letting him get up and turn your swivel chair around.

“Maybe… you would want to do something more expected? Like maybe a coffee or dinner?” He offered, the two of you walking out into the warm night air.

“I would really like that, Prince Charming.” You murmured.

“Let me walk you home? I remember it not being to far from here.” He said, pulling you in by the shoulders to lean into him. He pulled up his uber app and had you type your address in, so it would arrive to pick him up close to when the two of you returned to your complex.

“Yes please.”

The two of you walked and talked, any stumbles or sways caused by laughter rather than booze. He even grabbed your hand, enveloping yours in warmth and softness. The door to your complex came too quickly. You never wanted this little string of moments to end.

“Here we are.” You said, turning around on the step so you were almost as tall as him.

“I’ll text you, okay? I promise not to let it go this time.” He said, “goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Alex.”

He pressed a soft, honey sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth, and turned to duck into the uber.

[erenstitanweave]

PROM NIGHT!!

synopsis: being the student council president of visions academy was a grueling job in itself, but planning prom for a bunch of teenagers with no ideas is harder. luckily for you, the boy who was seemingly always in the shadows caught you brainstorming and wants to help.

rating: sfw (obviously), eventual friends to eventual lovers, reader is overworked and underpaid, miles is a bit of a troublemaker at school (just one incident chat come on), made miles and reader juniors in high-school because it fit the plot better, miles silently pining, etc.

author's note: hey chat!! sorry for the sporadic uploads, exams have been all on my schedule for the past two weeks and i don't really have time for writing. exams are almost done so hopefully i'll have some more out. feel free to request some works you all want to see! reblogs and comments are appreciated, i hope you enjoy!

The sound of a basketball bouncing off of the concrete filled your ears, the sound somewhat calming along with everything else you heard. Faint noises of children playing in the playground a bit away, sounds of a small group of girls gossiping under a tree, and in particular, three very familiar boys playing basketball. You were also under a tree, your eyes looked ahead at the boys playing basketball, then back at the laptop in your lap. To anyone else, you’d look like a person studying or someone just doing some type of work outside. While both of those weren't exactly wrong assumptions, you were really here to just take a breath of fresh air. Life as a highschool student was suffocating, especially considering the position you had gotten yourself in two years prior. In your freshman year, due to your excellent academic performance during the duration of the entire school year, you were offered the position of student council president.

Being the student council president at Visions Academy of all places was a huge deal, considering they would pass on a full scholarship to the president at the end of their highschool years to the school of their choice. It would be that boost you needed to assure yourself that you would be able to go to the college of your dreams, not worrying about the burden of student loans was just an added bonus. However, this position came with a lot to do. Instead of leaving at the dismissal time for the students, due to your intense workload as council president and a student, you’d often leave when the teachers did, which was later in the evening if not later than them. This pretty much eliminated any sense of social life you had with anyone, the most you’d get was interacting with members of the student council or slightly scolding students when you had to. You were lonely, sometimes it hurt you a lot to know this, but you just kept telling yourself that you didn't need to have people around you.

That was, until you met him for the first time. You had known of him prior to actually meeting him, whispers in the halls and even some mentions from the principal only aided your curiosity, but that's all you were convinced it was, curiosity. Miles was an..interesting person. You’d hadn't met him prior to his father's passing like everyone else, so you couldn't attest to how he was before, but he was clearly different according to others. He was quiet, reserved, never disrespectful to anyone..not entirely at least. He had earned himself two visits to the principal’s office for fighting, and from what you heard while being in there for one of those visits, it was bad. Apparently, one of the more..non-disciplined boys had made a disrespectful comment about Miles and his father, one that you couldn't even repeat with how gross it was. Someone had told someone else, then that person told another person, until it got back to Miles via his best friend. You weren't present for the fight, but from seeing the boy in public the day after, you knew it was bad. Miles had been told that disciplinary action would be taken to more extreme measures if this happened again, meaning expulsion from the school.

He spent detention with you that day along with a few other people. His eyes kept gravitating towards you the whole time, he didn't know what it was about you, it was just..different. Detention was over before both of you knew it, then you never crossed paths again..except for right now. You saw him approaching the boys, greeting them and starting to play a game with them. You weren’t far away from them, but you honestly didn't know when you started just staring at them all play, or maybe it was just Miles you were staring at. Naturally, he'd noticed you staring at him long before you realized you were staring, but the longer he looked at you, the more familiar you seemed. Funnily enough, the way he realized it was you was because of your laptop, considering he couldn't see your face very well. Suddenly, he tossed the basketball to one of the other boys and walked out the court, approaching you quietly. His sneakers barely made any noise on the concrete, only making a hint of noise on the grass once he started walking on it.

You hadn't even noticed him, snapping out of your zoned out state once you noticed that Miles wasn't on the court anymore. Had he already left? Were you actually staring for that long? Miles circled around the tree you were sitting in front of, leaning next to the tree and silently watching as you looked around confused. He peered his eyes down at your laptop, slightly squinting his eyes and reading the text on your laptop. Before he really read anything though, a very familiar logo in the top right caught his attention almost immediately. Visions Academy. His eyes immediately went around the screen, looking for anything else that would make sense of who you were, then it clicked. Your laptop looked extremely familiar, you went to Visions, then right on the upper right corner of the screen read three words that made his eyes widen. Student Body President. He stared down at you, only to see you looking back at him.

He chuckled under his breath for a second, his eyes glazing over your face for a moment. “Didn't think you existed outside of school, you look good when you're not telling people to stop skipping class.” He spoke, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. You rolled your eyes in response, attempting to ignore the second part of his sentence. “Didn't think you were taught to just sneak up on people, color us both surprised.” You bit back, forcing the smile that threatened to creep on your face back when he just laughed in return. He sat down next to you, eyeing your laptop screen before looking back at the basketball court. “So, do you actually do anything but work?” He asked lightly, his eyes gravitated towards yours as he spoke.

You sighed and shamefully shook your head no, keeping your eyes on your laptop screen. “Nope, no social life, hardly any friends, just..work.” You answered, turning your gaze back to the boy next to you. It took a while for you to register it, but he smelled really good. How had you never noticed it before? It was a woody scent of some kind, sort of like the rare cases of wood that smells good as it burns. “I’m trying to figure out the theme for prom this year, but themes can only be so original and I have until mid-April to make a decision.” You muttered, letting out another sigh as you leaned back, letting your head tilt until it hit the tree with an audible thump. Miles watched your movements for a moment, slightly wincing to himself as he watched your head hit the tree.

“Well, I hate to potentially sound like a broken record, but why don't you ask around? You probably would have gotten an answer months ago had you asked the juniors and seniors.” He asked, reaching his hand over and clicking a few things on your laptop. You just moved your hands off the laptop, covering your face and letting out a clearly annoyed groan into your hands. “People don't exactly like me, you know. Besides, the last thing I need right now is someone trying the little bit of patience I have and-” You covered your mouth in an instant, your eyes moving to look at him. Miles just sat before you with an concerned yet amused look on his face, he hadn't ever seen you lose even a hint of your composure before. The sight made him wonder how you really acted when you weren't in council president mode. “You heard nothing.” You spurted out, your words slightly muffled by your hands. Miles just chuckled and pulled the laptop over his thighs, leaning back against the tree with a smirk. “Heard what?” He asked, his heart beating a bit faster once he watched you pull your hands off your face, a small smile taking over your previous expression.

You rested your hands on your lap, mindlessly brushing the material of your clothes back in place. “Well, before we plan on asking anyone else, any ideas from your end?” You asked, peeking over at the laptop screen. Miles shrugged and shifted the laptop towards you, tilting the screen to make it easier for you to see. “Not really a party person, but, the only ones I really hear talking about themes are the girls.” Miles paused for a moment, seemingly thinking about something. “They mostly said they didn't want it to be a color, don't ask me what the hell that means.” He said, watching as you laughed in response. “Well, that makes sense. Most of the girls already have their dresses or what they want in mind, so choosing a color for the theme kinda defeats the purpose, no?” He nodded, turning back to look at the laptop.

“Nah, I get it. Colors being a theme sounds weird as hell anyway.” Miles stopped talking for a moment, looking back at you in his peripheral vision until a thought came into mind. “How ‘bout..I’ll ask around for you, since you're convinced no one likes you in exchange for something.” He said with a small smirk, catching your attention almost immediately. “You’ll ask around for me?” You asked, turning to look at him. You thought about it, it could be a big help, having to ask people about it with your schedule would be relatively impossible. “Fine, but what can I give you in return?” You asked with a confused expression, watching as he sat the laptop next to you on the grass and stood up, dusting himself off. He turned back to look at you, his two braids swaying with his movements. “Check your laptop. I’ll catch you later, President.” He said with a shrug, walking off before you could say another word.

You grabbed your laptop, a lot quicker than you’d like to admit, something typed in the search bar of an empty tab catching your eye.

i think asking around for you in exchange for being your prom date sounds like a fair deal, don't you, President?

[theotherrookie]

Willow was thankful for that brief contact. She may not have considered herself very close to Russell, but she was still able to mourn the loss of such a valuable member of their group.

"And for yourself." she added. She found a bit of self interest could do wonders to one's longevity.

She gently held her wrist with her hand, instructing the nanites to repair some minor damage caused by the sudden freezing.

"It's functional." She made to draw her sword again, only to pause and rub at the spot on her chest where the ray had first struck, "Hopefully, so are my organic components."

It wouldn't have hurt to sit the fight out for a few more minutes. Erica seemed to have the situation under control anyway. Frosty was still throwing everything he got at her, but snow really didn't hinder her.

"It's not gonna work! I'm Swedish!"

And incredibly determined. Erica shattered Frosty's ice blade with her bat, then proceeded to jump on his shoulders, balancing on one hand as she stuck the needle in his neck, before hopping off.

"What the—" Frosty managed to pry the syringe off, though not before the antidote was injected. Erica wrapped one of her tails around his waist, then gently set him down as he passed out.

"You'll feel less cranky after a nap and a snack." Erica said as she stuffed an apple in the pocket of his jacket.

At least Frosty would be able to go home after this was all said and done. Erica made her way back. She wanted to ask what they were going to do with Russell, but she couldn't find the right words that would fit the moment.

So she let Russell show off for himself. Veronica caught the moment his heart started beating again, thus spared herself the scare when he suddenly woke up.

The same couldn't be said for Rook, who ended up blinded by her own mantel. "What? Russell!"

Veronica patiently helped her out of that fluff trap while Travis got some well deserved relief. She still thought it was a shame that Simon couldn't take part in that hug, but it wasn't her place to judge.

Erica stuffed her hands in her pockets as she watched the scene. "Oh, so that's why he smelled weird."

Willow's expression slightly softened, betraying some degree of relief. "You knew all along, didn't you?"

The elf shrugged, "Well, I noticed he smelled weird. Like— Old fruit, but weird. He isn't a zombie, that's for sure!"

Willow chuckled, "Well, I'm not going to complain about this turn of events."

The commotion finally caught up to Lucien, who proceeded to fling Five into a different set of crates, before turning back to them. The glowing on the cuffs faded as he stared at Russell.

"You're going to make me go grey one of these days." he said, before he smiled.

Erica grinned, "It feels like a good time for a group hug!"

Willow sighed as she moved to rest her hand on the back of Antonio's. She could be incredibly gentle for someone with the strength to bend steel.

"Most of all, it will protect you." Willow replied, "We all need you to stay safe now more than ever."

They had already lost Russell. It really wasn't the time to contemplate more self immolation. It was advice Willow could get behind as well, preferably after they had Five's head severed from the rest of him. She flexed her fingers, then moved her arm. Everything seemed in working order.

"All of this happened because you couldn't mind your fucking business." Rook snapped, "And for what? A bunch of crap nobody cares about anymore…"

Erica leaned over to look at what Leofric was holding. It wasn't the sort of job she was used to, but it was true that she could sneak anything she wanted anywhere.

"Sure, I can do that." She carefully took the syringe, then stood up, "The neck is good enough, yes?"

She didn't wait around to hear the answer and immediately took off after Frosty. It was a good idea to knock him out now that he had slowed down. She'd take care of it right away.

Veronica worked quietly to remove part of Rook's armor so she could locate the wound Five had used to spread his toxins. That too would need to be cleaned and closed while Rook took the antidote.

There was nothing she could do for Russell, but she could still take care of her daughter, despite her protests.

"Forget this. Help Russell." Rook said, pushing her back.

Veronica didn't have the heart to tell her it was pointless. But Lucien had the right idea. Five deserved no mercy and definitely not a break while he was distracted by the results of his own idiocy.

The swarm was called off when Five got out of range. Lucien then brought his hands up to his chest, pressed his palms together, channeling his energy to form a rope. He held onto one end while the other shot towards Five, trapping his legs. The hunter held on his sword for dear life as he got tossed around like a glorified yoyo.

"Leave me alone! It was an accident!"

Well, he was already done feeling bad.

[queer-muslim-culture-is]

hi there! not a ‘culture is’ ask, rather- a question if that’s ok? firstly- i really, really want to thank you for running this blog. before this i literally thought i was the only queer muslim, or at least the only genderfluid one, and i’d felt so isolated and wrong and ashamed, but now i feel so much better about being queer and muslim. thank you…… <3

quick question for you and anyone who reads this blog- y’all, how do i find other queer muslims, online and in real life? in real life most muslims ik or have met are so queerphobic i’m honestly not sure how to root out anyone who is queer or even accepting. in other countries (i live in an African country, kinda in the middle of nowhere lol), ones that are more well-known perhaps, how did any of you meet any other queer Muslims?

also… online. there’s so many queer Muslims online and i’d love to get to know some of you, be friends or just to hear about others experiences and lives. but i literally don’t know how to find y’all, ahh😭😭

hi anon ! im so glad you found us <3 queer muslims have existed since the dawn of islam and will *continue* to exist. youre not the only one, never have been and never will be :]

.

as for finding other online queer muslims : i usually just go scroll through the queer muslim tag ! see who posts or even just likes / rbs the content there

maybe some of my followers are also looking for friends ?

**** if anyones interested, leave a reply or a note in a rb ! ****

.

as for IRL queer muslims well,, tbqh im not sure. personally i got sorta lucky. i grew up in africa as well and my two closest friends at the time both came out to me as bi before i started questioning my sexuality. beyond that, there were two cishet guys who,, didnt always say the right things and i dont think they wouldve understood my gender but they *did* hype me up when i told them i was gay and they told me they knew others like me. i also have an aunt and uncle who, although ive yet to speak to them about this, liked the facebook page for my countrys queer rights activism group (which i was pleasantly surprised existed), so im *reasonably* sure theyre chill

to try and extract some advice from my experience :

check their online presence if you can. do they follow or interact with queer or queer friendly accounts ?

discussing or bringing up queer media and celebrities is always a good way to gauge ppls opinions on the matter. you can be as subtle or as direct w this as you want, but tread carefully cause ppl can get real heated

>> my bi friend recommended me a queer manga before she came out, whilst a homophobic ex friend started ranting abt a video game trailer bc it had a gay couple in it

**** if anyone reading this has more tips, please leave them in the notes ! ****

[sonknuxadow]

its so frustrating how a lot of scu fans cant handle other sonic fans not having the exact same taste in sonic media that they do. like i feel like you can say something negative about literally any other sonic media on here and people generally wouldnt care that much but the second you say anything less than positive about the movies people start getting all weird about it and trying to argue with you ive had it happen to me and seen it happen to others as well .... like the sonic franchise is very big and has many different media types and writing styles not everyone is going to uncritically love everything. get over it ? im not trying to be mean but idk what else to tell you

[blorbo-blog-bro]

Blorbo experiences grief for the first time as his hopes and dreams are crushed right in front of him

[daily-smol-silm]

Day #123 - Sweet Dreams

Everybody who sees this post has been blessed by Irmo Lórien. May you have good dreams and restful nights :>

[radioroxx]

ok hi usually i dont post these kinda things but

recently theres been a discord scam going around and i havent seeeeen anyone bring it up? nor was i able to find a lot of info online about it

essentially, the scammer (using the account of someone you’ve friended OR someone in a server your in) will approach you and tell you that theyve falsely reported you + that your account could be deleted if you dont appeal to discord. this is the message that was sent to me v

and this is a version sent to my friend (the same email screenshot was also included after this message) v

once you reach out to the user listed in the email, they’ll ask you to fill out your information, then boot you from the account. by that point they will have access your account and will more than likely use it to spread to more people

as shown the scam itself tends to have some variety- not all of its gonna be word for word, exactly the same- so be careful! if you suspect someone you know has been caught up in the scam, be sure to block and to reach out on other platforms if possible.

stay safe !

(bonus- a closer up of the email + some scam advice from a friend)

(scam advice from friend)

[marimbles]

random question…

Or another way to frame it: do you think it’s rude to comment in another language? Would you be annoyed if someone commented on your work in another language?

[thepalladium1]

I love your art and au aaaa it makes me wanna draw art for my own AU but I feel like it’s too far fetched. Keep up the awesome work!

hey so like everyone should go check out this person's stuff it would be so cool and awesome and sick and if you guys do so ill release legendswap chili pepper and nutmeg tiger cookie's design so, you know. chopchop

[asurrogateblog]

The Syd Poll

the topic of this poll is one that is frequently avoided in the pink floyd fandom, but inevitably one we all consider – our individual views on what we think caused syd's psychological struggles (and by extension, led to his departure from the band). I think that – at least in this neighborhood of tumblr – this is a conversation we are capable of having in a way that is civil, nuanced, and at least minimally disrespectful to syd.

So, to help facilitate this, here are some ground rules:

let's all assume we have a mutual understanding of the complexities of this. syd could never actually be reduced down to a poll, and all of our viewpoints are limited in various ways

the poll options just serve as just a conversation starter, and responses are not necessarily a statement of absolute beliefs

feel free to discuss as much or as little of your own perspective as you feel comfortable sharing.

in the case that debates break out, please try to assume good intent – and also demonstrate it (unless, for instance, someone is being blatantly insulting beyond a misunderstanding that needs correcting)

please do NOT vote if you are not actually a pink floyd fan with at least basic knowledge about what we're talking about here.

The options I've included below are not meant to be exhaustive, they are simply the "theories" that I have seen most commonly circulated. I have also decided not to include combinations. I'm fairly sure we'd all agree multiple factors were involved. Rather than make the poll too complicated, I ask you to instead select the one that you think is the "most" important to your viewpoint, and clarify further in your tags/comments as you wish.

so. here we go.

READ BEFORE VOTING ^^^^

(note of correction: "late-onset schizophrenia" should just be "schizophrenia". the typical timeline for onset of symptoms is late adolescence/early adulthood, so syd would've been well within that period at the time)

[jade-efflorescence]

jade stop being nervous about work challenge (failed)