#i hate the man but most years he does do the theme justice but this year. this year was not it

[milflewis]

seeing ppl say jared leto knows how to do a theme for the met bc he showed up in the cat costume and like. yeah? he has fulfilled the theme during prev years but doja cat literally did the same thing but better ?? like if i wanted to see a furry i would walk around the city on a tuesday night but doja took the cat concept and made it interesting and cool and looked like a cat but also fashionable ? which imo IS what you want to see at the met gala

[disniq]

heyyy it's the tropes jason anon again back at it with a new question! what quotes from the comic books would you say describe jason & his philosophy well? thank you so, so much for helping me out ❤

Hi again Anon!

Full disclosure here; I don't think Jason has been written consistently enough over the years to necessarily have one set, inarguable philosophy. But I do think there are certain themes that carry through.

So;

Red Hood: Lost Days #3

This is, notably, the first time Jason kills. (I'm not including Garzonas, which is debatable, or the Cheer incident, which is a retcon) He finds out his hand-to-hand teacher has a barn full of drugged children about to be sex trafficked. The cops and politicians are in on it, making lawful justice extremely unlikely, but taking out one man takes out the system. Jason crosses that line for the first time because nobody else is there to stop it, and this is the most practical route.

He does not see it as "murder" because he feels it was deserved.

Red Hood: Lost Days #4

After that line has been crossed - as Talia points out here - a pattern emerges. It's notable that Jason does not kill all his dubiously skilled teachers, only the ones he deems the worst of the worst - people deliberately and repeatedly harming everyday people, especially children.

Jason reiterates this in his famous utrh speech. He's not talking about killing every rogue, every criminal. He's talking about killing the worst of the worst, the people who can finagle their way out of the system, the people the system fails to catch.

Under the Red Hood

It would be remiss of me not to include that one time Jason killed a nazi. Good for her dot gif.

To Jason, these people are beyond the regular means of justice, so he provides his own. He stops them from hurting anybody else.

This is not an exclusively post-resurrection opinion of his, either. Jason expressed similar thoughts during his Robin run.

Batman #422 (thank you @benbamboozled 😘)

This woman, Judy, baited her sister's murderer into attacking her too and then slits his throat. She's unrepentant, and Jason agrees with her decision. (Bruce, for the record, gives a speech on how "nobody is above the law" which is. An interesting stance for an illegally operating vigilante to take lmao)

It makes sense to me that Jason, as someone who has seen the system fail repeatedly (both as a civilian and as a hero), would have those kinds of doubts. The system doesn't always work. The system often fails the most vulnerable people.

When Bruce was failed by the Gotham justice system, he became his own extra-judicial system. When Jason is failed by both the justice system *and* Bruce's own vigilante system? Why wouldn't he do the same.

Unfortunately, this thread is mostly dropped for a while with the wave of writers who either actively hate Jason and try to make him capital E Evil or who are playing shameless self insert with him, but there are two more recent panels that I want to include too;

Task Force Z #12

So, in TFZ, Jason pushes who he thinks is Bane off a roof for killing Alfred. It... is not actually Bane, but instead the brainwashed former corpse of Gotham re-reanimated via comicbook science and. You know what, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that Jason regrets killing Gotham because he didn't deserve it, but reiterates that he will kill the real Bane if he gets a chance.

Jason sees killing as something he can do that others can't, that others maybe *shouldn't* have to do.

The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing #8

And finally, I adore this little beat in JTMWSL. This is something Jason thinks about. He's not just some brute that doesn't understand that "killing is bad". He thinks about it, reads theory about it. He sees that between the black and white, there are many, many shades of gray.

He understands that people who don't kill with their own hands aren't necessarily good people - like these cops here, gleefully waiting for him to be killed in prison. And that the people who *do* get their hands dirty aren't necessarily the bad guys - like poor Judy.

And I think he probably varies where he places himself on that scale at any given moment.

[madarasgirl]

I love your blog about madara 😭♥️, you could write about madara being a dad🧑‍🍼 i love imagining him being a dad😭🤰♥️

Thank you for the kind words! I love thinking about Madara as a dad too! He is so husband and dad-shaped. That’s why I waited so long to answer this ask, even though it’s one of my first ones! Because I love this ask and wanted to do it justice. I can only see Madara as a father in an AU where Konoha is actually democratic and fair towards the Uchiha. Since you didn’t specify what stage of life the child is in, I’m gonna write about how Madara might be throughout his child’s life. Warning: fluff ahead!

During pregnancy- Madara is going to be extremely protective and gentle with you. If you ever thought he was overboard before you were pregnant, he’s just extra now when you’re more vulnerable than ever. Even if he knows you’re a capable shinobi (or civilian), he won’t let any risk come to you and wants you to have the most relaxing pregnancy ever. He doesn’t even let you step on a chair to reach the higher cabinets! Sheesh. He’ll rub your swollen feet and take on more chores. When you worry about the possibility of your baby not developing into a model shinobi as expected of an Uchiha child, he scoffs at you. “We will love and raise our child no matter what. Do you think we burn our children just because they aren’t strong ninja?” He hates the idea of children as mere fodder or pawns in war. This is his precious baby for goodness sake!

Madara will often be by your side, to protect you, but also to spend time with you. He wants nothing more than for you to be happy and feel how much he loves you and the baby during these precious months. There is no way Madara will ever let you feel self-conscious about your appearance. To him, you’re more beautiful than ever (not only because he has a breeding kink, people. He actually finds your pregnant body stunning). He builds the baby’s crib and nursery with his own hands during this time.

Newborn- Madara is crazy protective. His baby is so tiny, fragile, and perfect. He’s terrified of hurting the newborn at first, but gets the hang of handling his baby very quickly. Madara is overjoyed from the birth of the Uchiha and proud of you for gifting him the greatest blessing of his life. Too much had gone wrong in his life and having both his child and wife emerge from the birth healthy seems unreal to him. He’s kind of obsessed with staring at his child and soaking in the cute baby sounds they make. He silently vows to do good by the child and protect them no matter what. You may think this traditional man might leave a lot of the child-rearing to the mom, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Madara is very involved with the care of the baby. It’s not like his desire for you to feel happy, loved, and cared for faltered since the birth. Of course he’ll help, especially knowing how tired you can be. He has to admit a newborn’s care requirements are quite demanding, and even more daunting than many missions.

Toddler- At this tender innocent age, when the child is more interactive, but still dependent on their parents, Madara melts with his child. We know Madara loves children, but also that they’re usually terrified of him. For one to not only be unafraid of him, but seek his company and even touch him? It’s enough to make him soft in the head.

Madara is protective (see a theme?) because he knows his young child has no means of defending themselves. It hurts, but he knows the shinobi world is harsh and strength is the only way for anyone to survive. He begins teaching his child basic skills like walking on water, perhaps through games. No techniques to fight yet. He wants to spare his child the harsh training he and his brothers endured from a horribly young age for even a few more years.

His child’s babbling speech is so endearing, but he isn’t the type to baby-talk. You make fun of him for talking like an old man to the child, but it’s what Madara does. Madara lets his child climb all over him, curl up in his lap, and reads to them while they play with his hair. He isn’t even upset when they yank. He just sits there to soak up the childish chattering and laughter. Expect this child to have exceptionally sophisticated speech patterns in the future!

Childhood- It’s time for proper ninja training. Madara will begin the long journey of passing everything he knows about battle onto his progeny. He’s a fair, but firm teacher and he isn’t cruel in his lessons. Battle tactics, basic jutsu, taijutsu, and weapon handling are in the books. His child is still very young and may not understand limits. Children can be harsh to each other and it’s Madara, a clan head who doesn’t enjoy beating up on the weak, who teaches his child compassion and the responsibility the strong have to protect those who depend on them. It’s a loving household they grow up in. Raised by you and Madara, the child grows into a strong, empathetic individual. Madara will feel like a failure if his child develops the Sharingan at any point in their life, even if he knew it was likely to happen.

Teenager- God help Madara and his kid. He raised them to be strong individuals, never expecting it to come back and bite him in the ass. They talk back using the same logic and sharp Uchiha roasts he instilled into them. It’s during these years his teenager pushes his boundaries to see how far they can go and they gain some independence through ninja missions, so Madara can’t keep as close an eye as he wants. He makes sure there are responsible adults watching over his child on missions, even if he can’t be there himself. He always worries about his child when they’re outside of the village, though he knows they are very powerful for their age.

Like other teens, his delinquent child can be dismissive of risk and hot-headed. It’s likely his child runs into a few of Madara’s many enemies at some point who try to leverage them against him. Regardless, Daddy probably showed up to save the day a few times when his child made reckless battle choices or bad decisions to rebel against his rules, decisions that could have costed them their life. Daddy Madara then dragged his child home to talk (and sometimes smack) some sense into them. He may be angry, but Madara was honestly scared stiff about losing his child.

If he has a daughter and she begins showing signs of interest in boys, Madara will seriously consider murder. Forget about the responsibility of protecting those who are weaker. “She will never date anyone,” he concluded, chakra flaring dangerously with distaste at the thought of any dirty boy who dared touch his baby girl.

Adulthood- Madara will remain a steadfast pillar of support and wisdom throughout his child’s life. He will always be the model his child looks up to. Madara is pretty easygoing, and would love nothing more than to spend carefree time together doing anything with you and your adult child. He cherishes every moment, knowing that shinobi can die at any time and it’s almost a miracle that his small family has survived until adulthood.

He will always love and support his baby. It doesn’t matter what painful situations and decisions being a shinobi will force his child into making, Madara will love them unconditionally no matter what, even if they ever end up on different sides of a conflict. That is what being family means.

[gayleviticus]

I was skimming thru the gospels recently, trying to get a feel for how they're structured for myself, and smth that caught my eye are what events each Gospel use to open Jesus' ministry after the initial baptism, gathering disciples etc

Matthew, wanting to present Jesus as a second Moses, opens with the Beatitudes, and the sermon on the mount. Jesus is an authoritative teacher of God's Law, the Torah, and how he tells us to live is important.

Mark similarly opens with Jesus teaching in a synagogue, except - we aren't told any of what he said! But we know he teaches with authority, an authority he demonstrates in a very dramatic way by casting a demon from a possessed man. Jesus is God's representative, one who speaks and acts with authority, and yet there's something mysterious about him that can't yet be grasped.

and it's interesting, bc it's sometimes said by people trying to push back against a hyper-theologised protestantism that neglects the social justice implications of the Gospel, that christians spend too much time focusing on the epistles theologising about who Jesus is, than the Gospels which tell us about his moral teachings. But if we accept such a binary division (which I don't), Mark is much closer to the latter than the former; he gives us some teaching, for sure, but much of his Gospel is about establishing Jesus' authority not just through miraculous works but through his Passion and Resurrection.

Luke, meanwhile, opens with Jesus at the synagogue in Nazareth, applying the words of the Prophet Isaiah to himself to declare the Spirit of the Lord is upon him to proclaim liberation and the year of the Lord's favour - in response to which he is rejected by his own hometown. This is doing a lot of things at once; firmly placing Jesus in the tradition of the OT prophet hated by others for speaking the truth and championing social justice, but also foreshadowing Luke's interest in the eventual way Christianity was rejected by Jews and went to Gentiles (which btw i acknowledge this raises issues of supersessionism, but we do not have time to unpack those; suffice to say Luke wrote with a specific agenda at a specific point in time when there was a v specific relationship btwn Jews, Gentiles, and Christianity as a Jewish sect).

Finally, John opens with... Jesus turning water to wine? It almost seems like a parody next to the other gospels! Next to handing down the law, casting out demons, and fulfilling biblical prophecy, throwing out some extra booze at a party seems rather indulgent.

Jesus even seems to acknowledge this "What concern is that to you and me? My hour has not yet come." The Son of gOD should be making a big, dramatic debut, not performing party tricks. And yet he does it anyway.

I'm sure there's much to be said about the theological significance of this - a reference to the Eucharist, a fulfillment of OT themes of the great eschatological banquet with wine running freely, 'the best wine saved for last' as symbolising Jesus.

But what strikes me most is how low-stakes it is - and it's not as if the rest of John is exactly slice-of-life; unlike the other 3 gospels people are much more consistently out to get Jesus here. And yet as his first great sign, through the miracle of water into wine Jesus celebrates the goodness of God's creation, of wine to make man's heart glad, of weddings to join two people in commitment, of parties to celebrate family and friendship. In a sense he's hallowing everyday life here; the lack of drama is the point.

And I think it makes for a poignant book-end with the epilogue to John, which involves no dramatic ascension to heaven as in Luke, nor the giving of the Great Commission as in Matthew, nor the ambiguous cliffhanger ending of Luke. It involves Jesus having breakfast on the beach with his besties. Jesus' ministry in John starts with a wedding and ends with brunch with the bros.

[romancomicsnews]

Why it's the right time for a third season of The Spectacular Spider-Man

While Spider-Man 2 and Spider-Man: The Animated Series were my introduction to the character of Spidey, Spectacular Spider-Man was how I truly fell in love with the character.

I was obsessed with the show as a child. I had nearly every action figure, I'd rewatch episodes (shoutout "Group Therapy", it's my favorite), and even tried to make the theme song my ringtone.

As I went on in my years and consumed so much Spider-Man content, I always found myself comparing it to Spectacular Spider-Man.

Did the voice match as well as Keaton's, was the style of the character simple yet unique to what we've seen before, how are the quips?

I did this so much, that earlier this year I wondered if I was just wearing nostalgia glasses. That maybe I was misremembering as one does. So, I rewatched the entire show with my partner...

...and I was NOT.

It is concise, it is beautiful, and every episode at the very least is fun. There is no villain that doesn't get their due, there is no arc that isn't important, and there is not a moment where Josh Keaton is embodying the best voice for Peter Parker or Spider-Man.

As you might've been able to tell by my Young Justice article, I am a huge fan of the storytelling ability of Greg Weismann. But I think it is really put on display in this show. Every beat feels important, most characters have solid arcs, and suspense and danger always feel real and earned.

With my rewatch, Spectacular Spider-Man's recent inclusion in Across the Spider-Verse, and the fanbase continuing to rage on, I thought I'd put my two cents in as to why it's time this show is brought back.

Clearly I'm biased but I don't care.

1. New Villains

Spectacular Spider-Man had a great way of bringing in classic villains and even B-list villains and making them iconic.

My favorite example of this was The Shocker, who in this version was also Montana, leader of the Enforcers.

By doing this, they made one of Spider-Man silliest enemies into a character who feels like the most qualified killer in every room he's in.

Because such time has passed since season 2, new and different Spider-Man villains have entered the zeitgeist. The Prowler, The Spot, and Mr Negative are great examples of villains who weren't well known when the show was originally going on.

There were also several different villains teased during the 1st and 2nd season. The promise of Carnage, Hydro Man, Man-Wolf, and Hobgoblin never came to be, and fans of the show remember!

Much like every character, several villains in the show were left on cliffhangers. Hammerhead and Silver Sable were left without any bosses. Harry was left fatherless. Black Cat hates Spider-Man for letting her father stay in prison. And New York was left without a Big Man.

It'd be very exciting to see who might take over after a situation like that.

2. New Heroes

Unlike other superhero shows, Spectacular Spider-Man lacks many if any team ups.

Since it's cancellation, we have had several Spider-Verse crossovers, and Spider-Gwen and Miles Morales have entered the main stream.

Making Gwen a Spider and introducing Miles into the friend group could add more tension to the Peter and Harry dynamic as he feels left out and an eerie feeling something is going on.

The potential for Spectacular Spider-Man to enter a wider Marvel universe is now possible, with Disney now owning the rights for television.

We could see Peter join the Avengers, fight alongside Ms. Marvel, even switch bodies with Wolverine.

I'm not saying this SHOULD happen, but we do know that Greg Weismann knows how to build out a universe.

3. Not Enough (Good) Animated Spidey Content

Since Spectacular Spider-Man, we've had two different animated Spider-Man shows. Ultimate Spider-Man and Marvel's Spider-Man.

While Ultimate Spider-Man had a silly interesting tone, and an overarching story that was interesting at times, it paled in comparison to what came before.

Many of the characters lacked depth, and the jokes just didn't hit the same. But at least that show had charm.

Marvel's Spider-Man did not.

The animation was boring, the characters lacked the fun and whimsy of both the others, and every character felt exaggerated. It was painful to watch.

The next Spider-Man show we are getting is entitled Spider-Man Freshman year, set within the MCU.

While it looks promising and different, due to the writers strike, the MCU constantly pushing projects back, and Marvel Studios constantly over working VFX and animation studios, I don't see this one coming out any time soon.

Which leaves a window for Spectacular Spider-Man to fill. We've gone too long without animated Spidey content on television!!

and most importanty:

4. Josh Keaton is just the Best Spider-Man

Holland. Maguire. Garfield. Johnson. Lowenthal. Moore. The question keeps coming up. Who is the best Spider-Man?

But oh they are all wrong.

So soon the public forget how perfect Keaton's acting is. He nails the quips like Garfield. The inner monologues like Maguire. The awkward nerdiness like Holland. And he nailed the blacksuit storyline.

He perfected it all.

Keaton's Spider-Man is on pair with Kevin Conroy's Batman. It is the voice I hear when I read the comics, and it works on every level.

At 44, Keaton still sounds like Peter Parker, and could continue doing the show now as if it never ended. But frankly, we don't know how long that will last, or how long Keaton would be interested in continuing this version of the character. Now is the time to give him that call!

In this era of oh so many Spider-Men, it's time the king took back his crown. There's a reason he's the animated Spider-Man that made it into Across the Spider-Verse.

Now is the time to bring it back. The fans want it. Keaton wants it. It would be a win for everyone.

Let's just hope Disney isn't stupid enough to miss that.

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[genshinconfessions]

Do you think there's actually any consistent theme on who gets what vision? The most consistent one is probably Pyro, their allogenes mostly being those with bright, bold, and energetic spirits, but aside from that what can there be said about the rest?

I feel like every time someone tries to propose a theory for it based on their backstory, there are glaring holes to be poked because of the similiarities characters have in personality and backstories. Like okay, you say geo is for those who are grounded and focused in their work, but then what does that say about Tighnari, Yanfei, and others with that trait? What does that say about Itto bring all over the place, in comparison to other geo allogenes?

What I'm basically saying is that, I find every allogene to vision theory made so far just, unsatisfactory. Am I the only one who feels this way? I really commend people's efforts but none have just, sat right with me.

the reason there are so many theories floating around is precisely because no one's really satisfied with the other theories so they each put out their own HAHAHA but personally, here's what i think:

minor spoilers for various character backstories!

--

anemo: ppl who used to be trapped in some way but now are free (and generally value their freedom) and have lost loved ones

ex: wanderer's entire backstory, faruzan being trapped in a ruin and solving her way out, kazuha escaping from the oppressive inazuma regime

cryo: ppl who are self-contradictory (and generally who have gone through some tragedy)

ex: kaeya being forced to choose between khaenri'ah and mondstadt, ganyu being stuck between the adeptus world and the human world, diona's hatred for alcohol yet her job is to serve alcohol

dendro: ppl who are wise beyond their years (and typically associated with life/rebirth)

ex: kaveh's trauma-filled life, baizhu's immortality and his views on it, collei maturing from hating the world to wanting to know more about it

electro: ppl who are outcasts of some sort (and generally intelligent and lonely)

ex: keqing not believing in rex lapis despite being a liyue leader, shinobu running away from her family because she didn't want to be a shrine maiden, fischl's entire persona

geo: ppl who work well or prefer to work in a team (and generally more concerned about others rather than themselves)

this one is slightly harder to notice than the others imo, but the recurring theme through every geo character's vision stories is 1. persistence/endurance, and 2. connection with the masses

ex. ningguang sacrificing jade chamber for liyue, noelle always being there for anyone who needs her help, arataki itto sticking by his gang's side even when they get into trouble

hydro: ppl who are hiding a darker side to them (and generally associated with either healing or truth)

ex. tartaglia seeming affable but actually being a big boss man, kokomi being very nice and unassuming but actually the genius leader of an uprising, barbara being the idol of mondstadt but actually gets depressed often

pyro: ppl who are very passionate about what they do and generally stubborn in their ways (also mostly very strong fighters)

ex: diluc upholding justice both before and after crepus's death, hu tao's general passion for both life and death, lyney's beliefs about his family and mission

--

of course, this is just what my little pattern-seeking brain has put together. it's definitely not guaranteed to be right, but i think the criteria i've come up with fits with each respective archon's values quite well

now regarding your main concern: of course you can say that arataki itto is also very passionate about what he does and is a strong fighter, or that tighnari is also persistent and team-focused, or that kokomi is a social outcast and also intelligent, etc, but tbh, i think that's being a little tooooo nitpicky lmao

ppl are complex, and good characters should also be complex; you can't shove ppl into categories based on one generic trait that most ppl exhibit at some point in their lives and call it a day (that was my main beef with the divergent series lmao but that's another story), so i think it's just a matter of what the hoyoverse devs thought fit the character's story or personality best, or what trait/background really set them apart from the other characters

[icouldbeaduck]

@purrassicjet and i were talking about celebrities that we think should run for us president and we landed on emily deschanel but she would need david boreanaz to be vice president (obviously) or it wouldn’t work as well and then we ended up with a bones presidential au??

here is everyone’s roles, please keep in mind now the rod is are american and all our information on how the presidency works came from hamilton.

brennan as president obviously because she would be great. only question we had was would she be “dr president” like how people say “mr president” because she had three doctorates and that will not be ignored

angela as vice president because america needs her. she is amazing.

booth as first lady because i don’t know the male version of it?? he would be very supportive of her most of the time and overall a great first lady

hodgins as treasurer of state (??i think it’s a thing??). he is not allowed to make any political comments ever because no one knows what he will say next and he has often been caught attempting to break into the white house even though he has a key to get in

cam as campaign manager because they need someone behind the scenes who knows what they’re doing. she is the reason everything doesn’t fall apart

sweets as secretary of state. not really sure why but ya know

aubrey is head of defence. he will keep them safe

zack is brennans assistant. i’m sorry man but that’s your ideal job. he is very good at his job

all other squinterns as members of cabinet/congress (??)

it’s not an american political party without an old straight white guy so that role goes to max. does america think his criminal history is controversial? yes. does the president give a fuck? no! he said he pinky promised to be good and you don’t break a pinky promise

caroline as supreme court justice obviously

karen from season 11/12 as the leader of the secret service

gordon gordon as presidential advisor because he’s a smart guy ya know he knows what he’s doing

all the other recurring fbi agents (flynn, perotta, etc) are secret service agents

sully is seventh in command. he kinda does everything else. he drives the car. he looks after the horses. cleans the pool. gardens. ya know. everyone loves him.

hate hanson i know you love an au so hears a sick idea for a 20 year anniversary reboot show. btw it must be a mockmentary like 11x18. also must feature another different remix of the opening theme.

[shawnjacksonsbs]

Richest man in Walnut Grove?

It definitely helps put some perspective on it, that’s for sure.        1-21-23

 "All right, then. And as for the decent job, now, that is something else. Any job a man can do to make his way in this world is a decent job as long as he works hard at it and does his best. You know, God didn't put sweat in a man's body for no reason. He put it there so he could work hard, cleanse himself and feel proud. Don't you ever forget that." - Charles Ingalls

 And yes . . . still atheist, but man I do love this show.  

I don't know if it's because I'm getting older, or if this is what the onset of wisdom feels like, but I really do enjoy it. lol

I suppose it takes a certain kind of heart to make . . .all the goodness work in this world.

And as some of us now know, hope, gratitude, understanding, and love are not virtues altogether lost on me.

It's a good life.

Those deathbed regrets get more and more limited each and every day.

Ongoing theme from most people, real and/or fiction, that I find my truth in, are things like

 Plain and simple is best. Hard work and honesty are worth it.

 Deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex.

 Hope may sometimes hurt, but the hanging on that it provides is essential.

 Doing (something, even if it seems trivial) for others pays personal emotional dividends that are priceless.

Sometimes, only sometimes doing for others comes by way of justice served to others.

 And

 That fear, not hate, is loves greatest enemy. Just sayin'

 Finally,

 Love overcomes hate, eventually and always as a whole.

  Can you name the people whether, real, imagined, family, or fiction, who best taught you??

They are the real heroes, right?

I know I say it a lot, but . . .Damn it, youth really is wasted on the young. Lol

It doesn't mean anything negative, or disrespectful towards our current young people either.

From what I've seen they're trying, and doing their best. I promise you I believe that for the most part.

Granted there are exceptions, but my point . . .if given a touch of youth now, what would you do with it??? That’s my point exactly. lol

I was so broken, so hurt most of my life. I couldn't catch a life lesson if you threw it straight into my catcher’s mitt. Physical, mental, and definitely emotional hurts, caused by me, or others, could have been  . . . .

Shoulda, woulda, coulda right?

I most certainly am not that idiot boy trying all the wrong answers first anymore. Am I?

Psychology, in the form(?) of sociology is such a fickle thing. Wouldn't it be nice if it actually made sense to work together to help the young overcome the nightmares sooner rather than later.

I'm not lost on the fact that they need some of that . . .pain to find real understanding in their truths, but god damn.

Those going through it like some of us did, especially those worse off, for which there are plenty make me wanna cry. My heart weeps.

The one upside is that it makes me try harder to be . . .a positive example. It works for those wanting it like me. Like with actual thought-provoking real human emotion attached to it.

I am trying, I AM NOT arrived. Not completely. Not yet. Light years ahead of the old me though.

 I feel like I'm rambling now. I might pick this back up later. ~

 This one is not "no notes", it's actually almost "all notes". Lol

I didn't want this one to lose anything I felt while writing it, to be lost in the transition of editing. Not this time. This works too, sometimes, mostly copied and pasted.

The feeling of being in that “hug” as I first started writing to ending up almost feeling sorry for old me not feeling that “hug” when he longed for it, here towards the end is. . . .where I go, or where I get to. Its’ a “Hug” you can feel while you breathe.

I suppose I’ll close this up.

I still have family in the hospital dealing with very heavy things, and a few loved ones still in the streets and in addiction, please keep them in your hearts and in your thoughts for me. And yes, if you pray . . .pray for them.

Oldest grandchild, granddaughter actually turned 8 recently and her birthday party is today, so that’s going to be good. I’m still making it to my already set place mats!!

It’s a good life, mine. And it’s getting better all the time.

Now keep sharing your love and laughter with the world around you, even if it means a bit of struggle. I will, of course, try to do the same, struggle or not!!

It’s not always roses, sometimes its ashes, but man. . . sometimes it is roses!!! That’s real talk.

 Until next time;

"Ma says, "Do your best work and the time will take care of itself." - Mary Ingalls

[sinner-as-saint]

Safe and Sound.

Bucky Barnes x Librarian!Reader AU

Requested.

Run-through: After the civil war, when Team Cap made peace with the rest of the Avengers, Bucky Barnes still had a lot to fix in his life. Bucky finds solace and all the answers he’s looking for in the cozy library café which you own in the middle of the busy city. He quickly becomes a regular client of yours, and through shy smiles, lengthy discussions regarding books and poetry, and leaving each other secret notes in book pages – you get attached to one another. More than you intended to.

Themes: Fluff, slight angst, a lil smutty

You heard the ding of the bell at the front door, which let you know that someone had walked into your library. You turned around and found your favorite client standing at the entrance – Bucky Barnes.

You immediately smiled at the sight of him. He was just such an interesting man, one couldn’t help but admire him no matter what he did. You watched as he carefully wiped his boots on the rug by the door before stepping in, always careful as to not make the floor all muddy given it had just rained outside.

He always came by with a coffee cup in his metal hand. And he would spend hours in your library, reading whatever you’d recommend, and whatever he didn’t have time to finish, he’d take home with him. He was a fast reader, you noticed a couple of weeks ago; he was always eager to finish a book, and his curiosity to learn and discover more could clearly be seen.

Of course, he had missed lots of works of literature over the years and now he was struggling to forget his gruesome past as the Winter Soldier, trying to find himself again to fit into the modern world better, fighting through bad memories and trauma and trying to catch up on what he missed while he wasn’t himself; reading became his favorite thing. It served as a hobby, as well as a coping mechanism. Whenever Bucky found himself going into a dark place again, he’d immediately turn to a book which you recommended and just within a few pages, he’d feel much better.

You and Bucky flirt a lot, but he’s also so respectful and polite and just the right amount of cheesy. He was a little old-fashioned, especially regarding his idea of romance and his take on modern romantic novels, but that was one of the many things you liked about him. He was an interesting man, and great company.

You liked him quite a lot. And he liked you back. But neither of you ever made the first step. You were too shy and he didn’t feel like you belonged with someone who has a past like his. But regardless, he had been catching feelings for you. You reminded him that there was still good left in this world; your gentleness, how tender you were with your voice and how selfless and loving you were when interacting with your clients.  

Bucky knew he would never be able to let you go. Some days, while you were busy with others or arranging the many shelves in your library, when you paid no attention to him; Bucky’s eyes would follow you discretely. He often daydreamed about what life could be like for him if you were his. Someone he could trust. Someone to come home to. Someone who would care.

Bucky liked you a lot. He liked how you hummed under your breath as you walked around, working. He liked the colors you wore very often; tan coats, and soft sweaters, and golden jewelry. Bucky had been around for a long while, and he had seen his fair share of beautiful women, but he still thought you were the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes on.

A couple of words from you, and he was under your spell like it was nothing.

 As for you, Bucky Barnes was not just a super soldier, he was the man who was slowly developing a love for reading, and he was also the man who could make your heart flutter just by looking into your eyes with those deep blue orbs.

Cream colored sweaters, messy hair, he was always a lovely sight. You still remembered the first time he walked into your library months ago;

-flashback-

Gloomy day. But the occasional soft murmurs of everyone scattered around your library café helped maintain the faint smile on your face. You were rearranging the modern fiction shelf, humming quietly under your breath when suddenly you noticed there was complete silence.

No soft murmurs, no fingernails hitting phone screens furiously, no pages turning, nothing. You moved from behind the shelf and approached the front desk, where you usually sat. And there he was, James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, ex fist of HYDRA; standing at the door of your library.

Dark jacket over his sweater, his metal arm tucked in the pocket of his jeans and a coffee in his hand. You were certain all eyes were on him for two main reasons; one being that he was part of the Avengers team, hence intimidating, and second, because he was drop dead gorgeous.

None of his pictures did him justice, you thought as you took in his broad, and muscular frame. Dark hair and blue eyes; he looked like he had been handcrafted by the Gods.

You were somewhat surprised upon seeing him because none of the Avengers ever swung by, despite your library café being well-known in the city. And to have one of the strongest man in the city walk into your café was not something which happened very often. Or ever really.

You felt bad for a minute because you saw how he shifted nervously under everyone’s gaze. He must hate the attention. So you decided to ease the tension.

“Mr. Barnes, come on in.” you smiled warmly at him, like you did with all your other clients. And you could feel the tension in the air beginning to diminish immediately. Almost everyone stopped staring at him, because given the way you greeted him, they thought he must be a regular client of yours – harmless despite his slightly rough demeanor.

Bucky Barnes gave you a faint smile and took some steps in. But not before wiping his slight wet boots on the rug. He was so thoughtful, not wanting to soil your floor. He walked up to the desk and looked around, seeming a little lost.

“Welcome, Mr. Barnes. How may I help you?” you kept the soft smile on your face.

He looked down at the floor for a moment, smiling to himself. “Sorry I just… it’s been forever since I stepped into a library.”

Something about that sentence made your chest hurt. He seemed so lost in this big, modern city. You knew all about him, and his past; you had read multiple articles about it. He was one of the most talked about members of the Avengers, especially since the recent fall out between Stark and Rogers. But thankfully the heroes had worked it out, and the team was whole again.

You nodded slowly. “That’s alright, Mr. Barnes. We can ease you into it. There’s no need to rush, I have all the time in the world.” he lifted his head up to look at you once he heard your words. Warmth and kindness was still new to him, and very much welcomed.

“Thank you.”

 And that was the beginning of a friendship which then became so much more. Bucky formed an instant connection with you. Your warmth, your easy-going manner, your humor and kindness; it was all he never knew he craved.

And to you, he was no longer just a client anymore. He was someone you looked forward to seeing each day. He became a habit. The image of him walking into the huge glass doors of your library became your new favorite thing.

-end of flashback-

 “Hey, doll.” he greeted you the same way each time, with a faint smile.

Your smile stretched wider at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Bucky. Finished your book?” you asked, and as always, he nodded and chuckled.

“Finished it just last night.” he said proudly. “What do you have for me next?” he asked, handing you over the book he took last time, just two days ago.

You typed on your computer for a second then looked up at him, “Depends, how did you like Miss Clark?”

He chuckled looking right into your eyes with his stormy blue eyes. “She reminds me of you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him playfully. “Does she now?” you playfully teased. And Bucky gave you a handsome smile.

“Maybe you should read the book again. You’ll see what I mean.” He smirked and you knew that smirk all too well.

You and Bucky had this thing you did where you’d leave each other cheesy notes in books. You’d leave the notes in books which you recommended him, and he’d leave his notes in books which he returned you, and that had been going on for quite some weeks now. Most of the notes were sweet and flirty, some much cheesier than others.

You smiled at him. “Alright then, go get yourself a seat. I’ll bring you some books.”

Bucky lingered for a few more seconds, just gazing at you and making your heart flutter before he finally went away to his usual seat; at the furthest corner, by the art pieces and the large window. You watched him for a brief second, how he sipped on his coffee and looked out the window, staring at the world he often wondered if he belonged in.

You went back towards the shelves and opened the book. And as per usual, you found the piece of parchment paper he always left you. There, scribbled in messy handwriting was the note he left you;

-‘… you are pretty much the only thing that makes me want to get up in the morning.’

He had left you a quote from the book itself today, like he did often. And your face felt hot and you smiled like a kid in love as you read, and re-read, the note over and over again. You couldn’t help but think of the day he had told you something quite similar; “You know, coming here and talking to you is the best part of my days.”

You blushed as you walked over to select some books for your favorite client. The fact that you two always flirted through notes in secrecy made you giddy. Bucky was an old soul, and he was an old-fashioned romantic and you had absolutely no problem with that. If anything, these secretive notes from him felt much, much more special than any text would.

You moved to the poetry section and looked for one of your favorites which he hadn’t read yet. You smiled as you found the collection and you quickly searched for a pen and a piece of parchment – which you had bought and kept solely to leave notes for Bucky.

You wrote down the two verses of one of your favorite poems and slipped the piece of parchment in before handing him the books;

“Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs;

And love is love, in beggars and in kings.”

 You were undeniably falling for the metal-armed soldier. And him, you. Even though neither of you admitted it, nor confessed your true feelings to one another.

---

Two days later, Bucky came by not even a minute after you opened, no other clients were here yet. No coffee in hand, red eyes, looking like he had had a rough night and barely any sleep. Soft beige sweater, and messy hair – he looked handsome regardless.

“Hi Bucky. What’s wrong?” you asked softly, approaching him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

One look into your eyes and he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in for a hug he desperately needed. Wrapping his strong arms around you and placing his head on your shoulder, he sighed loudly. “I had a nightmare. I don’t know where else to go.” He mumbled and you felt your heart tearing in half.

You wrapped your arms around his immediately, rubbing your hand softly up and down his back. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” You hugged him back as tight as you could, for as long as he needed.

There, in the middle of your library on a gloomy morning, Bucky found comfort. Your hug felt like balm for a wound he had for way too long now, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to let you go.

You placed your chin on his shoulder and felt his body heat wrap around you. You cracked a faint smile as you caught your reflection on the nearby mirror. A strong man, broad and brawny like Bucky; seeking comfort from you. Quite an unusual sight, but you definitely something you could get used to.

You held him still, and spoke up. “You wanna go get coffee together?”

He groaned quietly, still wrapped in your arms like a big baby. “No, I don’t wanna be around other people.” He mumbled. And you smiled again, even though your chest hurt a little at his words.

He didn’t want to be around people, yet he walked all the way to your library just to see you. Something about that made you feel all warm inside. And you felt the need to cater to all his needs.

“Okay then, do you want to go to my place so we can have coffee and talk? It’s a short walk from here.” You explained, wanting to make him feel as comfortable as possible.

Bucky pulled away and nodded immediately. You smiled and went towards the desk to gather your things. You pulled out your phone and texted you two other employees, telling them to manage the library till you came by later during the day.

 The walk back to your apartment in the middle of the city was a short and silent one. Bucky held you hand all the way till there, and kept his head low. You felt him turn his head to look at you often, and whenever you caught his stare, he gave you a brief smile; making your heart flutter again.

-

“Sugar or creamer?” you asked, as you made two cups of coffee. Bucky shook his head. Black coffee then, you pushed the one mug towards him and took a seat at the island as well, facing him. “What was it about?” you asked.

Bucky kept his eyes down, understanding that you were referring to the nightmare he had. “Just… me hurting people.” A chill went down his spine as he uttered the words. He had hurt people; many of whom didn’t deserve any pain. But he had mercilessly caused pain. Immeasurable pain. And someone as tainted as him shouldn’t be around someone as warm and kind like you, he thought. He shouldn’t be here. “I shouldn’t be here.” He mumbled abruptly. “I should go.” He avoided your gaze and stood up to leave.

But then you walked over and grabbed his arm. “No.” you stopped him from leaving. “Hey, look at me,” you cupped his face, placing your other hand on his chest, and turned his head towards you. His eyes were red again, watery and sad. He blinked as he looked at you; lost and hurt, wondering if he even deserved this warmth, this attention and care. “I want you here, okay? I care, Bucky.”

He blinked again, letting your words settle in. And once it did, he leaned in for another hug.

“Do you wanna do some reading?” you asked, and he sighed.

“No.” he answered, sounding grumpy.

“Do you want me to read to you?” you asked again and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“Yes please.”

 And that’s how you two ended up on your large couch. Effortlessly comfortable in sharing space with one another; under cozy blankets, and Bucky placed his head on your lap and listened to your voice as you read him some of your favorite poems while mindlessly running your fingers through his hair. He liked this a lot.

“… While faithful love the watch should keep, to banish danger from thy sleep.” You ended another poem and Bucky smiled and looked up at you. “Liked that one?”

He nodded. “What’s it called?”

“Winter song.” You replied.

Very fitting, he thought and smiled to himself before looking up at you again. “Another one, please?” he asked, politely.

You giggled and flipped through the pages of the book, searching for another one. As you began reading, Bucky felt himself slipping more and more under your spell.

There was this sense of familiarity between the two of you. Despite having known each other for just some months, you felt like you knew each other for decades. It was unusual, but comforting. For instance, having him here in your home, in your living room under the same blanket as you felt delightful, and soothing.

Sure, you had a crush on the man since the day he first stepped into your life. And vice versa. But this felt like so much more. It felt satisfying, like coming home after a long day; knowing that inside these walls, you’re protected and far from the dangers of the outside, darker world. Your home and your company made Bucky feel like he was safe inside a bubble of ease and comfort. He hadn’t felt that way in a long, long time. So he was grateful for you.

“…This world I saw as on her judgment day. When the war ends, and the sky rolls away. And all is light, love and eternity.” You finished the poem and looked down to find Bucky asleep on your couch, with his head on your lap.

You smiled as you admired the man. Life hadn’t been easy on him, it had been cruel and painful. And he deserved happiness, and love and light. You knew he did. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his forehead, giving him a quick kiss before carefully slipping from under him and placing a cushion where your lap had been, making sure he was comfortable as he napped.

 And soon, that became a habit as well.

---

Bucky spent much more time in your apartment than he did at the compound. And it felt strangely like a norm you two had been following for years, when in reality it had been just weeks. Perhaps it was because there was no sexual tension in between you two… yet, but you just needed one another to feel normal and complete.

Many days you’d wake up and find him in your kitchen. And you’d sleepily walk over to him, give him a kiss on the shoulder, or his neck, or cheek – whatever was reachable. And he’d smile and kiss your forehead and make you coffee.

Then you’d walk till the library together, and he’d spend some time in there, until he received a call from the team. Of course, he still went on missions, and sometimes you wouldn’t see him for 2-3 days. But in the end, he’d always come back to you.

And you knew he relied on you a lot. Be it calling you in the middle of the night – when he slept at the compound, or when he was away on missions – after he’s had a terrible nightmare and telling you that he just needed to hear your voice to feel better. Or crashing on the couch in your room because he just can’t be alone, and needs to be as close to you as possible. Or how he’d often spend hours hanging out with you, asking you politely to read to him.

You loved taking care of him. And you never realized that you relied on him too. And you didn’t know you couldn’t live without him either, until the time when you didn’t seen him for weeks.

Calls, voicemails, messages, he replied to none. You didn’t even know if he was just unavailable, or isolating himself or worse, had had a mission go wrong.

You thought of the worse. Him hurt, and alone, trapped somewhere you couldn’t reach him. You knew he was strong, and could fight his way out of anything. But although enhanced, he was human still.

Your days became mundane and bland without your favorite metal-armed super soldier. The littlest of things reminded you of him. The extra mug out on your counter. The creamer in the fridge which he never used. The knitted blanket he loved but wouldn’t admit to loving it because it was bright, obnoxiously pink. The hair band he had left on your coffee table. The books you planned on reading to him, but didn’t get the chance yet.

Please come back to me…

You cried the first night. Then by the end of the first week without him, you weren’t cheery anymore, you just felt empty. You knew you could always reach out to the rest of the team and ask about him, but you didn’t want to seem clingy. Besides, they wouldn’t even know who you are.

So all you could do was wait. You heard around that some of the Avengers had gone on a mission, and you didn’t know if it was entirely true because a lot of people just gossiped about stuff they didn’t know for sure.

But hearing that he might just be away on a mission was somewhat comforting. Still, you were worried sick.

 ---

You sure missed him, but you didn’t know just how much until you couldn’t hold back the tears the day he finally showed up at the entrance of your library one morning, almost two weeks later.

“Hey doll.” he seemed a little tired. And bruised. His flesh arm had bandages around the knuckles up till his wrist. The bags under his eyes were a little more prominent.

Bucky felt both relief and pain as he took in the look on your face. Your watery eyes and the look of relief in your eyes as well.

“Buck…” you whispered and you walked over to him and rushed into his arms, paying barely any attention to some of the people who were sat inside your café. You tried your hardest to seem chill, and calm and collected.

But you couldn’t hold back the tears. You wrapped your arms tightly around Bucky and wet his sweater with your tears. Not sobbing, but just letting out all the emotions you had been bottling up during his absence. “Where were you?” you asked, sniffling.

Bucky cracked a little smiled and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. “Long, tiring mission. I didn’t have my phone. Sorry I left so suddenly.”

You sniffled again and pulled away to look up at him. “It’s okay. It’s your job, I understand. I just… missed you a lot. I thought you… I thought you wouldn’t come back to me.” You lowered your eyes to the ground, staring at his boots instead.

He grabbed your chin gently and moved lifted your face so he could look at you. God knows he had missed you so terribly as well.

“I missed you too, doll.” he said with a weary smile. The nickname he had given you shortly before disappearing on you for two whole weeks still made you feel all tingly.

You didn’t want to cry so you leaned in for another hug. Wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your forehead against his chest, you sighed loudly and inhaled his lovely, masculine scent. “Don’t leave me.” You mumbled.

You heard him let out a little chuckle as his arms tightened around you. “I won’t, doll. I’m here. I’ll always come back to you.” His words made your heart flutter again. And you pulled away, wiping your tears and maintaining your composure, not wanting to been seen all teary by the rest of your clients.

You sniffled again, looking down at your shoes. And another tear fell. Bucky reached out and wiped it gently. You spoke up again, “You can’t just disappear like that. I was so worried.” You were still upset. Relieved that he was alright, but upset nonetheless.

Bucky was in awe. No one ever cared this much when he was away on mission. The whole world saw him as an ex-assassin, the fist of HYDRA, now an Avenger, a super-soldier who was designed to fight and end battles which he didn’t even start. Not many people made him feel like he was human too. That he feels pain when he’s kicked or punched, or shot at. That his wounds bleed just like anyone else.

But you did. Around you, it was okay for him to be vulnerable. Bucky leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry.” He whispered against your skin. “I didn’t know I would end up being away for so long. Although, I would love to make it up to you. Movie night?”

You looked up at him and immediately remembered the last time you had a movie night, around three weeks ago. And how the two of you had fallen asleep on the couch and you woke up in his arms, limbs tangled with his. It was the best night of sleep both of you had in a long time.

You nodded quickly.

 ---

Movie nights with Bucky definitely earned a top ranking on your list of favorite things. It was adorable how he had countless questions about movies, and how he’d point out every little detail which you missed out on. Or how he gradually inched closer and closer to you on the couch, until his thighs were touching yours.

And your whole body felt like it had been electrified the minute he casually placed his hand on your thigh, barely paying any attention to you as he watched the movie. Your body was burning hot under his touch. And you squirmed just a little when the pad of his thumb lazily caressed your skin; in an innocent, affectionate manner – but which also filled your brain with filth.

“You okay, doll?” he asked in that velvety smooth voice of his which made you weak in the knees.

You cleared your throat and tried to push all the filthy thoughts out of your mind. “Yeah. Yeah, why?” you almost stuttered as he gently moved the palm of his hand up and down your thigh. You looked up at him and he was smirking.

Oh, so he’s been doing this on purpose?

“You look a little…” he trailed off as he gently leaned closer to whisper in your ear, “… troubled.” He chuckled as he heard you gasp. He pulled away and studied your face for a second. You looked fierce, and ready to pounce on him; obviously frustrated and turned on by his antics. “Come here, doll.”

Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap, making you straddle his thighs as you lowered your body onto his lap. You immediately felt something hard pressing into you, right in between your legs.

“I still have to make up for the time I’ve been gone, don’t I doll?“

 ---

 You woke one morning, feeling tingly. So much so that your own giggle chased away all the remnants of the previous night’s sleep. You looked to your side and noticed that Bucky wasn’t there. And then you felt him. More specifically, his mouth. Right in between your legs.

He mouth latched on to your wet heat and he ate you out, coaxing you to wake up. Gently, as always. You peaked under the blankets and found him tongue-fucking you. You threw the blanket off the both of you to get a better look at him.

Since that one movie night, about a month ago, you and Bucky had been sleeping in the same bed each night. Except on days when the team needed him for a mission or something. But other than that, he lived with you most of the time. And you were the happiest person ever.

“Well good morning to me.” You spoke, voice still a little groggy from your deep slumber, but also a little hoarse due to last night. Bucky was always a little more needy and passionate, and insatiable whenever he returned from missions; like last night.

You watched how he pulled away from your wet folds and looked up at you with those stormy blue eyes you were in love with. “Morning baby.” he whispered, flashed you a breathtaking smile, and got back to pleasuring you. Your legs trembled in pleasure, and Bucky’s hands locked around your thighs as he pushed the lower half of his mouth further into you, teasing you with his tongue.  

He had you moaning and squirming under him, slipping his tongue in between your wet folds, poking at your entrance and sucking on your clit. Your fingers grabbed his hair and you tugged on it occasionally, and it drove him wild each time. He loved every inch of you, and he made sure to show you just that each and every day.

With a couple more strokes of his tongue, you came all over his mouth, and he lapped up all that you gave him. Wanting more and more. His hunger for you couldn’t ever be satiated fully, he concluded. Especially not when he woke up next to a naked you almost each day.

Bucky kissed his way up your body, stopping every second and kissing every inch of your skin until he reached your mouth; where he kissed you passionately, deeply. Licking the inside of your mouth hungrily, making you moan and feel dizzy just from a kiss.

He finally pulled away and looked down at you. “I am so in love with you. It’s crazy.” He whispered. And lowered his body onto yours, pushing his face into the crook of your and peppering your skin with kisses again.

“I am madly in love with you too.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head, smiling to yourself and relishing his body heat. Loving Bucky came with its own challenges, but there was nothing in this world you wouldn’t do for him.

As for him, you were the stability and sense of belonging which he sought for so long. And now he had it, and he wasn’t letting go you of you anytime soon. You were his, and that alone made him the happiest he had ever been all his life. You were his safe haven.

And you both silently promised to keep each other safe and sound.

[benjaminmoorepaint]

red: the color of...grantaire?

Figured I might do another meta post like the one I did for Marius to address the myths and misconceptions surrounding certain characters, so it's Grantaire's turn!

I'm sure we all know Grantaire quite well...a sensitive starving artist, with his Apollo as his muse, and a cynic who pragmatically points out the flaws in Enjolras's idealism, which they quarrel over.

Let's unpack that!

Grantaire is most likely middle class if not wealthy, he is certainly not poor. We don't know what he's studying (if he's studying at all) but he is nevertheless a quintessentially Parisian bourgeoise "student", much like Bahorel. "A rover, a gambler, a libertine..." As the foil of "severe in his enjoyments" Enjolras, Grantaire is a pleasure-seeker, indulging in the excesses that Enjolras disdains.

Again, though we don't know what Grantaire is studying (and I suspect he's just Bahorel-ing it) he's clearly an educated man, judging by the references he throws into his speeches, and he mentions that he once was a student of Gros.

So is he really an artist? He might have been an apprentice at some point, but it's clear he was not particularly enthused by it. After all, discipline is something that Grantaire…lacks. And because it's Grantaire, you can't completely discount the idea that he made it up just for a pun (though I do find that unlikely.) But it's a triple (quadruple?) play--it's important not to take this quote too far out of context because he's actually saying several things here.

It is a shame that I am ignorant, otherwise I would quote to you a mass of things; but I know nothing. For instance, I have always been witty; when I was a pupil of Gros, instead of daubing wretched little pictures, I passed my time in pilfering apples; rapin is the masculine of rapine. So much for myself; as for the rest of you, you are worth no more than I am. I scoff at your perfections, excellencies, and qualities. Every good quality tends towards a defect [...] there are just as many vices in virtue as there are holes in Diogenes’ cloak.

Gros was a well-known neoclassical painter of the time, and I believe Hugo's inclusion of him here is a jab at the neoclassicists, as Grantaire doesn't seem to care for him.

There's a pun! "Rapin"--term for a painter's assistant--is the masculine of "rapine"--to steal.

So he likely means he stole the apples intended to be painted for a still life, which fits his careless attitude... but he's ironically putting himself down for it too, and at the same time

putting his companions down, saying they're no better than him even if they do have more "good" qualities because each good quality has a corresponding downside, so what's the point, really?

You can see that even in this small sample of his speech that Grantaire often has layers upon layers of meaning in what he says. He's a smart guy! But that means you can't always take what he says at face value, as Hugo says, he's constantly "reasoning and contradicting" himself. So let me invite you further down into what I think his real meaning is here (though now firmly into the depths of my own conjecture, so others may have different interpretations.)

I would speculate that "the rest of you" who he professes to mock refers mostly to a specific person, you can probably guess who. After all, Enjolras is surely the paragon of virtue among them, and you could certainly argue that his good qualities edge on being flaws. I think Grantaire is right about that, and it's a sort of theme we see pop up again and again--the Bishop's generosity does hurt the women he lives with, Valjean's self-sacrifice hurts Cosette, and Javert is someone who's tipped all the way over to his virtues being vices.

But like, man, come on. Seriously. "I scoff at your perfections, excellencies, and qualities." Dude. We all know that you're obsessed with this man.

And you might notice that this is just a whole lot of Grantaire talking and talking over people, never letting anyone else get a word in. It's not a debate, Grantaire never actually debates anyone, let alone Enjolras. The idea of Grantaire debating Enjolras and making him see the flaws in his idealistic revolution is wholly a fandom invention.

The closest we get, really, is Grantaire trying to convince Enjolras to send him to the Barriere du Maine...and Grantaire doesn't come out of that looking so good.

“Do you know anything of those comrades who meet at Richefeu’s?”

“Not much. We only address each other as tu.”

“What will you say to them?”

“I will speak to them of Robespierre, pardi! Of Danton. Of principles.”

“You?”

“I. But I don’t receive justice. When I set about it, I am terrible. I have read Prudhomme, I know the Social Contract, I know my constitution of the year Two by heart. ‘The liberty of one citizen ends where the liberty of another citizen begins.’ Do you take me for a brute? I have an old bank-bill of the Republic in my drawer. The Rights of Man, the sovereignty of the people, sapristi! I am even a bit of a Hébertist. I can talk the most superb twaddle for six hours by the clock, watch in hand.”

I won't bother going too in-depth here since you're probably familiar with all this--Grantaire talks a big game and then fails to follow through. And we see one of two red waistcoats mentioned, neither of which are worn by Enjolras.

Grantaire lived in furnished lodgings very near the Café Musain. He went out, and five minutes later he returned. He had gone home to put on a Robespierre waistcoat.

“Red,” said he as he entered, and he looked intently at Enjolras. Then, with the palm of his energetic hand, he laid the two scarlet points of the waistcoat across his breast.

So yeah, it's actually Grantaire who wears red, at least canonically! I know their popular red/green color scheme comes from the musical, but it might be fun to reverse it sometimes...I think Enjolras would look great in a nice emerald green, and he'd be more likely to wear that, actually.

Why? A red waistcoat like would be a very obvious, in-your-face political statement--perfect for Bahorel, the other red waistcoat wearer, but Enjolras is actually a lot more reserved and less reckless than fandom sometimes makes him out to be. Wearing something that blatant isn't really his style.

The real question is, why does Grantaire, of all people, own one? Why has he read Prudhomme and the Social Contract and the Rights of Man?

Grantaire is not a super sympathetic character. He's a man of means, talent, intelligence...and he wastes those gifts and privileges on doing nothing, he has no aims in life, he does not aspire to do better or make the world better. He may be Enjolras's foil but I would also contrast him with Feuilly, who has spent his life dedicated to improving himself and the world despite the challenges he's faced. He's obnoxious to women, denigrates his friends for their beliefs, and is generally useless. He's given the opportunity to change and he squanders it. He's not so much cynical (because that's a belief) as he is indifferent, which is arguably worse. His indifference can certainly be read as symbolic within the group, their belief versus the apathy of the world.

But, layers upon layers...Grantaire does have a good heart hiding underneath all that. What I've been getting at all along here is that he does care; he may say he doesn't, he may even believe he doesn't, but he does, clearly, care. He says he hates mankind; he loves people. He says he scoffs at his companions; he admires them. He declares himself indifferent, yet he can't help but talk about the sufferings of the world.

Which isn't to say that simply caring absolves him of anything. Up to this point, he's still just been a useless layabout. What does absolve him (narratively speaking) is the first time, possibly the first time in his life, that he chooses to act. He chooses to take a stand. And this transfigures him, as Hugo says.

Grantaire had risen. The immense gleam of the whole combat which he had missed, and in which he had had no part, appeared in the brilliant glance of the transfigured drunken man.

At the last moment, he chooses to believe, and Enjolras finally accepts him.

One last thing: Grantaire never calls Enjolras "Apollo". Furthermore, he's actually the only one who couldn't have called him "Apollo". The only line where this nickname is mentioned is as follows:

It was of him, possibly, that a witness spoke afterwards, before the council of war: “There was an insurgent whom I heard called Apollo.”

Who could have called him that? Not Grantaire, he was fast asleep during the whole thing. So I choose to believe it was Prouvaire…he would.

[write-like-wright]

u asked for requests so im here to comply😳could you maybe do a ”should you date them” with the defense attorneys in the series?? or just generally some other characters?? bc the prosecutor one added like 20 years to my lifespan lmao. hope u have a great day!!

I'm so glad you liked it!!! Here's the sequel, just for you <33

Original post here

Should you date them: Ace Attorney defense lawyers edition

Phoenix Wright

yes, you really should

probably one of the best, if not the best, boyfriends in the series

wanna get married? husband material

wanna have kids? father material

has a tendency to casually adopt children actually, could be an issue at some point

worships you

you know how some guys brag about how they'd die for you?

Nick would unironically die for you

may even come close a few times but I'm pretty sure he's canonically invincible (eating poisoned glass and falling off a burning bridge, who?? tis' but a scratch!)

massive gossip

gets home after an investigation and immediately starts like "you won't believe what I found out about Gumshoe today"

somehow surprisingly mature and good at keeping secrets in spite of everything

has a lot of really cool friends!!! and larry

have you seen those shoulders tho?? mans built like a dorito, smashing through massive wooden doors n stuff

biggest monthly expense is hair gel

claims his hair is natural but you know better

don't be the big spoon, he will poke your eyes out

can somewhat read your mind tho? a bit off-putting but ok

marry him before Edgeworth someone else does

Mia Fey

hell yeah, dude

cool, calm, collected

has literal superpowers

successful business owner at 27!!! unironical #girlboss

went from being a lame rookie to a literal legend with her own practice and an apprentice in, like, three years

she's so smart, I fear her

has the fashion sense of a female character drawn by a cis man... oh, wait

god help whoever tries to hurt you

will literally kick their ass to hell

family-oriented

believes in second chances

took phoenix under her wing after everything, mia has the patience of a saint honestly

drops cool oneliners in everyday speech like a marvel character

curve lovers rejoice

doesn't mind being called dorky nicknames

major wife material

Diego Armando/Godot

I already covered him in my prosecutors list,, literally did not occur to me to split Diego and Godot into two lists

but to sum up, if I had to choose between the two, I'd go for Diego

i like my men like i like my coffee - tall, dark and bitter

^^ eats up pickup lines like those

Apollo Justice

Polly is such a sweet babey boy, please be nice to him

short king

low on confidence, makes up for it by being loud

*voice cracking* HE'S FINE!!!!!!!!!!!!

your neighbours will hate him

such a pushover, will do anything you ask of him

sensitive boy, not afraid to cry

pretends not to be dorky - is very dorky

consumes nerdy media almost exclusively (canonically a Whovian! but Capcom can't say that)

bikes everywhere and is apparently good with a hula hoop

Polly got cake is what I'm saying

have you seen his cool street style clothes?? sk8er boi

very grounded, literally

might play around and hold your hand for comfort

won't come to visit you if you live on a high floor, sorry

cat dad!!! cat pics!!! yes!!!

about 7 different tragic backstories

new secret family member drops every week

stares at you when you speak sometimes

is he jealous of Klavier?? does he have a crush on him??? who knows but it's funny watching them interact

bicon

spends way too much time on his hair

someone please date him, he deserves some love

Athena Cykes

holy childhood trauma batman

been through a lot

total empath

if you're sad, she's sad

can kinda read your mind... why is this such a common thing in AA games?? I like my privacy

super energetic

will drag you to the gym, take you on hikes, practice wrestling moves on you...

you will always be sore but also in the best shape of your life

has minus 25 chill

incapable of keeping secrets from you

her weird goth convict uncle threatens you every once in a while

she promises he means it in a friendly way

loves europop

way too accomplished for her age, everyone in this game is so smart, help

i feel like she'd enjoy theme parks idk

date her, she's baby and she needs some TLC

Kristoph Gavin

no

he's scary

thinks he's better than you

thinks he's better than everyone

has the audacity to wear white shoes with a blue suit??? are you going to prom????? sir????

obsessed with phoenix wright to an alarming degree

perfectly manicured nails!

the kind of guy who warns you never to go into his basement

nice on the outside but it's all fake

deeply rooted issues even he's unaware of

if you like drillbit hair consider Klavier instead

Ryunosuke Naruhodo

world's biggest baby

secretly a bitch

loves to clown on people

fake it till you make it

has no clue what he's doing most of the time

very determined in spite of that

everyone loves him

so many cool friends

cries at the thought of your bare ankles

physically incapable of walking by a shop and not buying something he doesn't need

"look, i got you a gift!!" "awh, how sweet! ...what is it?" "i don't know, i'll ask Mr Sholmes when he gets home!"

good with his tongue

may be somewhat trapped in the closet

has literally zero chill

remember when he just casually chased armed robbers??

must be a family trait

Iris interrogates you about your intentions with her brother

she has a gun

you have no privacy at his place

Sholmes crashes your dates

his bromance with Kazuma sometimes drops the "b"

becomes ultra cool eventually

hop into that time machine and date Ryu's ass, but be prepared to deal with period-appropriate homoeroticism and misogyny lol

Extra little shout out to Kazuma Asogi for that one time where he was a defense lawyer for, like, an hour and a half and somehow managed to cram 50 of the horniest one-liners in the game in that very limited time. Date him.

[spidernerdsblog]

Match made in Hell : Chapter Three

A/N : Chapter three is here. Survival of the fittest this is how life evolved on earth. And to survive you have to learn to adapt even if you have to make truce with people you hate. Hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think.

A Happy New year to all of you lovely peeps! 💖💖

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary : you always wanted a simple life but to be born as the daughter of a dangerous mobster turned out to be a curse for you. Everything changes when your father gets your lover killed and forcefully marries you off to another mobster as a part of a deal. You hate your father and your husband the only thing you seek is now revenge. Will you ever be able to fall in love again or this burning hatred inside you will consume you?

Warnings : 18+,mature content, a little PMS drama, language, flashbacks in italics, slight nudity, suggestive themes.

Mini Playlist : Bad Things by Meiko

SERIES MASTERLIST

Complying to the note you take a quick scan of the room ensuring that you’re not being followed by anyone before making your way to the restrooms but instead of going inside you sidetracked to your left and stride your way to the staff exit door across the hall and sneaked outside continuing to walk down the dark alley. You stop when you see a large figure standing in the dark a few feet away from you.

"Y/N" the man speaks with a deep voice.

"Who are you?" You demand. The man walks out of the shadow and your face lit up as you saw his face illuminated by the street light. 

"William? Oh my god!" You rush to embrace him. William Marshal, your father's most trusted wing man and your mentor. All the knowledge you have raptured be it hand to hand to combat or gun fight he taught you all. 

"How are you my little tigress?" 

"Surviving" You say with a small smile. "But what are you doing here?" You were so surprised as well as happy to see him.

"Your father sent me here."

Your brows draw into a frown ''Daddy sent you?...But why?"

"You are alone and boss thinks it's a little dangerous to leave you in the enemy territory on your own" 

You scoff. "Huh, since when did he start worrying about my safety?" 

"He wants me to help you with your task, so how much progress have you made?" He asks.

"Actually William there has been some changes in the plan” You say. “I’m no more playing daddy’s little killing puppet" 

William gives you shocked look. "What, are you planning to backstab your father?" 

''Not literally stab him though I wish I could heh. But I'm gonna make him pay for his crimes by turning him in and then let the law decide his punishment."

"You want to go on a legal battle with the king of illegal trades?” He chuckles lightly at your childish idea. “You're bluffing right?"

"I'm not bluffing Will. I just want to deliver justice to all the people who have suffered for him without anymore bloodshed. And I’m not ruthless like him and at the end of the day he's still my daddy so even if I want I will never be able to kill him" You sigh with remorse. 

"It's a suicide mission Y/N, you can't win against him, not alone"

"Well Rome wasn't built in one day, Will. Plus I have you."

His face went stoic. "I can't betray your father Y/N." 

"Will, how could you forget that this man killed your whole family? He didn't even spare your five year old daughter. Don't you want revenge?" You tried your best to persuade him. 

"That man died when he accepted his allegiance."

"Then here's your another chance to avenge your family. Are you going to help me or not?" You ask him firmly.

"You know I have always seen you no less than my daughter" He reaches out a hand cupping the side of your face "so what does my daughter want me to do?" 

The corner of lips turn up into a smile. "Nothing much for now I just want you to pose as a double agent, provide me all the information and report back to daddy whatever I exactly say to you" You explained. 

William nods in agreement to your plan. "So have the Holland's agreed to this?"

"Holland's?" You frown. "Why on earth would I involve them? They are no less evil."

"You are plotting against your dad the mafia kingpin and you need allies Y/N."

"I don't need any allies…" You pause mid sentence as it finally hits you what Will was actually trying to imply. You narrowed your eyes with a sly smirk "Unless I rat them out against each other and they end up destroying each other in the process without anyone suspecting it was me behind all this. Like this I can hit two birds with one stone"

"Well now you're getting it." William says proudly. 

"By the way boss told me to give you this." He holds out a revolver, you stiffen at it’s sight.

"That's my gun" You swallow hard.

"Yes indeed it is." 

"I can't take it Will and you know why" You say anxiously.

"I know that the past haunts you Y/N but that phase is over. You have to let go" He takes your hand and places the gun. "Keep it, you'll need it" Your palms were sweaty as you gripped on to the gun and looked at it intently. 

"I think you should go back now before your husband gets suspicious and remember.." 

You cut him off before he could finish. 

"To be nice and call in a truce. Trust me I got this." You winked with a sly grin and rushed back to the hall through the backdoor but you are met with an obstacle. Tom was standing right in front of the restrooms, you quickly retreated behind the wall.

"Shit! Why are men so clingy?!" You groan with slight irritation when your phone lights up

T : Hey you okay? You're in for too long. 

T : Y/N???!! 

You roll your eyes as you text him back. 

Y : No I'm not okay!!! 

Concern clouded his features whilst he texted you back.

T : Hey what's wrong? 

T : Darling, you alright? 

You couldn't think of any valid reason to get past him so you had to swallow your pride and texted back with the most safest and believable excuse for a woman. 

Y : I'm PMSing!!!  T : ….OK. 

You peered to see his reaction and you swear you would have burst out laughing if you weren’t in such a sophisticated place, the look on his face clearly showed how weirded out he was. 

Tom on the other hand was clueless about what to reply next, since a young age he has been dealing with the most dangerous people from the underworld but never in his life he had to deal with someone pmsing specifically he never had to deal with you. Though he had a little knowledge about these things thanks to sex ed at high school. You saw him take a deep breath before typing. 

T: You need something? 

Y: Yeah, will a tampon be too much to ask? 

Y: It's kind of urgent. 

T: Right on it. Just stay there. It will be fine, love. 

T: Do you need a change of dress? 

To be honest you were quite taken aback seeing this concerned and understanding side of his. 

Y: No, I'm fine. And please don't come barging in the ladies room. 

T: Yeah I know that. 

As soon as Tom moves away you quickly slip inside the restroom and heaved a sigh of relief. After a few minutes a middle aged woman walks in the restroom.

"You must be Y/N?" She asks with a smile.

"Yeah." You nod.

"Here you go, love." She hands you a tampon. You take it and go inside a stall. You wait for a few minutes before throwing the tampon in the dustbin and emerging out of the stall with a smile.

"Thank you so much." You say smoothening the slight creases on your dress.

"Oh don't be but I must say your husband really loves you. You should have looked at his face how freaked out he was."

"I really doubt the love part.'' You snicker, turning on the faucet in the basin to wash your hands.

"Well darling, here’s an advice from a lady to a lady keep your man happy and satisfied and then not only will he be showering you with all his love as well as—"  She coils her thick glimmering diamond necklace around her slim finger "might get these too."

"Well thank you for your advice but not a fan of leashes you see." You quip drying your hands with the paper towels.

"Trust me sweetie one day you will just want to wear these leashes only for your man." She steps closer putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Will see." You give a tight lipped smile.

After sometime you step out and find Tom patiently waiting for you.

"All good?" He asks, you nod in affirmation.

"It was lovely talking to you sweetheart. See you again." The woman chirps, you smiled waving at her.

Bad Things starts playing……. I know what I want And I'll get what I need I'll come over and I'll show you how Don't you wish that you can have me now?

"Shall we have this dance?" Tom held out his hand. You take it with a smile as he leads you to the center of the room. Your hands go to his shoulders while his hands rest on your hips. You slowly begin to sway your bodies to the music going back and forth, your eyes looking around to the other couples dancing. 

You say that you want all of my love But let's be honest we don't need all that I like it better with no strings attached

"You're welcome." Tom says, drawing your attention back to him.

"Uhh..." You look at him in confusion.

"I guess the words that you are looking for are thank you."

"To be fair it was kind of your duty to help your wife from an embarrassing situation." You quip.

"Oh now I'm your husband, huh?" He raises his eyebrows amused.

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it

"Well you have been rubbing the fact on my face since day one so—" You half shrug. 

"So what was Mrs. Sinclaire saying?" He asks looking around the room.

"Nothing of my interest just how I should get one of those shining collars around my neck." You roll your eyes dramatically.

"Those are gifts from their husbands who love them dearly, love" He corrects you, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

How much more can you take if I give you a taste I've been waiting for you all night long I come around and then I'm gone

"But for me those are glittering leashes" You retort.

"Darling, how much ever you pretend but under this tough shell you're just a hopeless romantic, you crave love and I can give you all of it only if you allow me." Tom laces his hand with yours another hand stays at the small of your back, waltzing to the music. 

You'll get yours, I'll get mine Then we run out of time You're the only one that I desire 'Cause I love to play with fire

"Maybe I'm that's why I still dream of a beautiful life away from all this from you" you say looking deep into his brown orbs.

He leans down to your ear and whispers. "I can assure you one thing princess the farther you want to go away from me the more I will pull you back towards me"

A shiver runs down your spine as his smile turns into a wide grin.

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it

His hand moved from your back to your lower waist and he dipped you low, taking you by surprise. You bent on your back as he pulled you back up with a force, throwing you against his body sending your body right into his broad frame.

Ooh (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) Ooh (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) When I'm down I let you know (ooh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) When I'm down I let you go (ooh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)

You stayed like that for a while, inhaling deeply but the only thing you could smell was him, his expensive cologne intoxicating your senses and then he pushed you back again, spinning you around twice and settling back for the previous slow pace. 

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)

The night ends and you are now back at home sitting on your bed busy with your night routine rubbing on some body lotion on your hands as Tom walks in.

"What are you doing in my room?" You frown.

"Technically this is my room" He reminds you rummaging through his closet.

"Not anymore." You state haughtily. He plainly ignores you and goes inside the bathroom. 

After a while he comes out with a towel wrapped lowly around his waist, his wet curls sticking to his forehead. You couldn’t help but admire his chiseled upper body, muscles rippling and glistening in the soft golden light of the room.

"You’re staring" He sing-songs, smirking cockily.

"No-no, I'm not'' You fumble. 

"It's ok, darling I'm all yours to look at" You roll your eyes meanwhile he takes off his towel and throws it in the hamper before getting on the empty side of the bed just in his black calvin klein boxers.

"Whoa, you are gonna just wear that?" You ask in surprise. 

"Why you gotta problem?" He smirks while getting inside the covers. 

"No seriously, you’re either fully covered or almost naked. Nothing in between." You remark giving him an annoyed look.

"Why does it turn you on babygirl?" He says with a sultry voice. 

"Shut up and stop with these weirdass names, will ya" You grimace as he chuckles.

"And what about you? You are going to sleep in that?" He points out looking at your sleep shorts and a loose shirt. 

"Well you may think of yourself as a calvin klein's model but I ain't a Victoria’s secret angel. So yes I’m gonna sleep in these" 

"But your Instagram says something else" He quips, making you smile mischievously.

"Aww did someone get all riled up at work?” You click your tongue pouting “so sad." 

Tom all of a sudden grabs your arm pulling you down to him as you jolt down surprised.

"And for that you deserve a nice spanking" His voice low, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

"If you touch me I'll chop off your hands." You threaten with a cold stare and pull out your arm from his grip. You lay down turning to your side and snatched away the covers from him.

"Oi! blanket hogger!" He protests, pulling the blanket back.

"Get out of here!" You kicked his leg playfully snatching the cover again.

"Y/N I swear to God I’ll push you off the bed!" He says laughing.

"Shut up you whiny baby." You retort laughing as well.

He moves closer to you bringing his hands to tickle you on the side of your hips. You squealed trying to push him away but he tightened his hold around you both laughing like kids when suddenly you realized how close you were the heat from his bare body felt like burning against your skin. 

What are you doing? You hate this guy, he is the reason Ethan is dead. You remind yourself gaining back your composure and stopped laughing. You went silent closing your eyes as Tom got the hint and backed off.

You soon fell asleep breathing softly but Tom was still awake staring at the ceiling thinking about all the meetings and deals he has to make tomorrow when you shifted on the bed and turned to Tom’s side in your sleep. You subconsciously hiked a leg above his placing your hand over his chest snuggling close to him. 

Tom found it really amusing chuckling softly as he took his time to admire how beautiful and innocent you looked. He went to wrap his arm around you just then he heard you mumbling in your sleep. 

"I'm sorry - I'm so sorry Ethan." His expression goes hard. He retracts his hand away placing it under his head and lets out an exasperated sigh before closing his eyes to sleep.

Next morning you squint your eyes open to find yourself practically laying over Tom's chest, you sit up hastily waking him up in the process. 

"Good morning, princess." He says with a groggy voice. You look at him timidly. 

"By the drool I’m assuming you slept well." You frown rubbing the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. 

"So much for chopping my hands eh?" He snickers. "But what about you taking advantage of me while sleeping." you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

"Sorry I used to have a side pillow when I slept."

"Oh it's ok, love. I'm honored to be your human side pillow.'' he says cockily before getting off the bed to get ready for the day. 

"Dickhead" You mutter under your breath.

****

 You went to punch his chest, but William blocked it

"As a devout feminist, I refuse to say that you hit like a girl." William quipped letting go of you, and you spin around in frustration

"Let's try this again, shall we?" 

"Tell me again why I have to learn self defense this early in the morning." 

William began to roll up his sleeves to better move around "You are my  responsibility." 

You smiled "...says the feminist." William chuckled. 

"Fighting is rhythm. There is a music, there is a meter, there is a pattern. Let that rhythm beat within you." He stood defensively and nods at you. 

"Again." you put up your fists and start to fight him, but he easily blocks your blows. You two spin and continued practicing. You struck him again but he blocks it. 

"Legato" You strike again with increased force,

"Ostinato" You strike back with all your force. 

"Crescendo" You managed to hit him, but he blocked the majority of it and held you by your neck. 

"And then, once you've established your cadence--" You spun out of his grip, kicking him, and pressed him against the wall while he's distracted. 

" --You change the key." you said smiling proudly. 

 "Very nice." He said a little out of breath. "But none of this matters if you cannot make the kill." 

"But I don't want to kill anyone." 

"You will. To survive" He said.

You stepped back to catch your breath from the intense workout.

"Now c’mon we will learn something new today." He brought two wooden staff and throws one at you out of the blue which you barely catch.

"Hey! I wasn't ready!" You protested. 

"First lesson-- always be on your guard." He instructed. You took note of the weight of the staff in your hands for a moment.

"It's heavy." 

"I was half your age the first time my father gave me the staff. I would have torn every muscle rather than let him see me strain. And, had I--" He attacked you, you barely blocked his blow "-- he would have corrected me." 

"No offense, but your dad sounds like a jerkwad" You panted. 

"Mothers love their children. Fathers make them strong" He attacked you again, and though you struggle to keep up, you manage to continue blocking him.

"Well in my case my daddy doesn't care 'cause he already kind of bidded me off in a stupid deal--" You started to fight back  "-- and my mother is quite ardent to make me strong enough to face anything what is to come my way" You grunt while attacking but William easily dodges your strikes.

"You're anticipating. Do not let me see your move before you make it." He strikes at your staff, knocking you off-balance and causing you to twist your ankle as you fall and whimper in pain

"Get up." He commanded.

"I can't, my ankle hurts." You groaned.

"The ability to end your pain is a warrior's true weapon. Master that, and nothing holds power over you." You glared at him. 

"Now, on your feet." You winced. 

"I said, On. Your. Feet." He barked.

You continued to glare at him, but do grab your staff to use it to help you to pull yourself up on your feet. You leaned against the staff for support. William looked mildly impressed.

"Good. Perhaps you've actually learned something today." 

It’s been almost two weeks since the gala night William has been in contact with you providing you with valuable information. You were lost in your thoughts when your phone buzzed and you were broken out of your daze. It was William, you received the call. 

"Hey Will!" 

"Got some news." 

"Seems like Victor has grabbed quite a hold in the European drug cartel. He has been making quite some big deals." 

"Daddy is making deals with the European drug mafias?" You were surprised at this news. "But how is that possible? As much I know he planned to oust the Hollands off their turf first before taking over their business." 

"Working with your dad I have learnt one thing about him, ‘compartmentalization’ nobody gets to know about his real plans. And that is the reason behind his success." 

"I think I know someone who might give me more info on that. But the most important question is who is doing all the dirty work for him while he is sitting in NY." 

"A new gang has emerged in the city ‘the vipers’ but I’m surprised that the Holland’s didn’t happen to come across them yet." He says before ending the call.

Meanwhile Tom was at the docks of the London port accompanied by his brother Harry for a meeting with an old time ally.

"Gomez, after a long time mate." 

"Yeah Holland business has been a little rough these days"

"So my brother tells me that you wanted some negotiations to be done with the current revenue arrangement of the port area"

"Yes Holland about that you see you're charging an outrageously high protection money and for that I am having very little profit from my drug trafficking business" 

"Well mate protecting you from the cops and allowing you to smuggle through my port comes with a high price I told you at the beginning only." Tom says.

"Then I might have to rethink our alliance, Holland."

"You mean you want to call off the deal?" Tom raises his eyebrows.

"Yes you guessed it right" 

"That's really brave of you given that the narcotics are already suspicious about your activities" Tom mocks with a sinister look in his eyes.

"I'll take my chances and there's this new gang who are ready to provide protection at a much cheaper rate plus they are going to help me expand my trade to the States. And profit has always been my first priority mate." Gomez states.

"Well whatever suits you mate but the port is still under my control if I may remind you so perhaps you should start watching your back" Tom advises, malice in his voice and then he storms out of the place.

****

You have finally decided to have a night out and blow off some steam. You dressed up in a slip dress and put on your matching stilettos. Booking yourself an uber you were just about to go down the stairs when you heard some heated argument coming from the office though it was mostly Tom’s voice you heard and by the tone you deduced he was very angry. 

You slowly made your way towards the room to see Tom standing in the middle of the room with Harrison and Harry beside him, his men surrounding him as he yells at them. They were so engrossed into the meeting that nobody bothered to notice you standing so you quietly lean against the doorframe and listened to their conversation.

"I'm paying a bunch of assholes for nothing!" Tom barks. 

"Tom, calm down." Harry goes to tone down his brother.

"How can I calm down?! Some bloody newbie gang has been operating right under my nose! on my turf! and I have no news about that." He snaps.

You couldn’t help but the whole conversation made you chuckle a little too loudly drawing everyone’s attention present in the room. Tom was already seeing red with his business going into jeopardy and seeing you laugh like that he went ballistic. 

"Does something here appear funny to you?" He glares at you.

"Well funny things do." You retort.

"And may I have the pleasure of knowing what you found so funny?"

"Well seeing you guys all worked up about this whole new emerging gang snatching away your territory. I really feel pity for you."

"Thank you for your pity now you may leave, anyways women are not allowed here. I should not see you snooping around in the future near this room." He orders.

"Your loss I might know something that could have helped you in solving your little problem." You shrug and turn to leave. 

"Wait! What do you mean?" 

"Well I guess women don’t do business here so I better keep my mouth shut." You taunt agitating him even more.

"Stop fucking with me Y/N! If you know something then tell me." You pucker your face pretending to think. 

"Please" he adds softening down a bit, you sigh audibly.

"Ok then let me give you a heads up. The viper gang which is hampering your business deals is owned by none other than Victor Martinez aka my daddy dearest." Tom's eyes went wide as well as Harrison's and Harry's. 

"What! You’re kidding right?" You scrunch your nose shaking your head sideways dismissively.

"But-but we had a deal!" He was still in disbelief.

"Honey you made a deal with the devil. What did you expect?" Tom crosses the room in three strides and grabs hold your arm with a death grip anger raging in his eyes.

"Leave my hand, Tom! You’re hurting me!" You struggle twisting your arm. He slightly loosens his grip but still holds on to you. 

"What more do you know? What have you father-daughter planned behind this whole wedding facade?!" He spat gritting through his teeth.

"Hey don't go all out on me! I myself didn't know about this until today. He never told me about this secret gang." 

He scoffs, raising his eyebrows. "And you want me to believe that?" 

"It’s up to you if you want to believe or not but if I would be plotting against you why would I even care to tell you all this?" You pull your hand away "--and this growing hatred inside you I have thousands of times more of that hatred inside me for him" you seethe.

"Then what was the meaning of the whole deal?" 

"Well he wanted me to lure you and trick you into writing everything you own including your business to my name and then kill you." Tom is left speechless with your revelation.

"What? Feel the bitter taste of betrayal?" You smirk. "Now you’ll understand what I felt." 

"Okay then you guys have fun working out your plan on going against your new enemy while I enjoy my night with some music and drinks." You chirp enthusiastically.

"Now where are you going so late?" Tom sounded tired.

"None of your business" 

"Anthony, Michael go with her" He orders two of his men.

"No need, my uber is already waiting outside" saying so you left.

Reaching the club you order some drinks for yourself. You sit on the seat near the counter enjoying the ambience as the bartender hands you a martini. Though it wasn’t like the rave parties you had in NY but you really felt relaxed finally out by yourself after being trapped in that house for two weeks after your wedding which felt like ages. 

"You're Y/N right?" You look up to your side to find the red head girl from yesterday.

"And you're the hooker" You quip and she chuckles.

"Yeah I am, it's Sandy by the way." She takes seat beside you. "So where’s your husband?" 

"Probably still shouting at his men." You shrug, taking a sip of your drink.

"Not to be prying but what's the deal between you two? It looks like you hate each other's guts"

"Don’t know about him but I definitely do, perhaps after tonight he might start hating me too." 

"Then why the hell did you get married?" 

"Well honey things don't work like that in the mob. A wedding is just a strategic alliance between two families for their own mutual benefits. We just serve as scapegoats, our fates were sealed together the day we were born" You explain. 

"Well that’s some really messed up shit" She sympathizes. 

"I know." 

"But you can still work it out. You know he isn’t that bad, at least not in bed" She grins cheekily. 

"Okay I didn’t need to know that" You chuckle sarcastically. 

"You’re really missing a good dick girl, that you can have any time you want and all your life." 

"Do I look like a nymphomaniac?’’ You laugh ‘‘-and no doubt he is a dick. He is the reason my innocent boyfriend is dead, I’m stuck here in this stupid marriage and instead of apologizing what does he do? He brings in girls, acting like a slut" You rant.

"You're bothered aren't you?" 

"No, why would I be bothered with whom he sleeps?" You stand up from your seat stumbling a little already feeling tipsy.

"-- you know what I'm gonna enjoy today, get drunk and dance my sorrows away." "Everyone in the house tonight’s drinks are on me! Enjoy the free booze!" You screamed. The whole crowd whooped and whistled.

"To my fucked up life!" You shouted, downing a shot. 

You made your way to the center of the dance floor and started dancing without any worry about tomorrow. Within seconds you felt two hands around your hips, you turn your head to find a cute boy probably of your age as you continued to dance and grind against him. After a couple of songs you went back to the counter and had some more drinks. You were totally wasted as your vision went blurry and pretty soon everything blacked out.

It feels like a struggle for you to open your eyes as you stir inside the covers. Huh? You squint your eyes open and realize you were actually lying in a bed. You slowly sat up, your head was pounding with last night’s hangover as you groaned holding your head. Your eyes slowly adjusts to your surroundings and you realize that you were indeed back home and in your bedroom. You look down at your body and were shocked to find yourself in just your black strapless bra and underwear.

"You’re up at last." You hurriedly pull the covers up to your chest hearing Tom’s voice. 

He walks in a pair of grey sweatpants and a tightly fitted black t-shirt, his biceps bulging out of it. It was really odd to see him in such an informal attire but he looks good, you slapped yourself internally for the last thought.

"What happened last night? How did I get here? And where are my clothes?!" You badgered him with questions.

"Woah slow down, that's a lot of questions at one go and you should be the first one explaining about your reckless behavior last night."

"Why, what did I do?" You frown.

"Oh you really went wild last night. For starters you danced with random blokes and then you drank more and got wasted. And then you took off your dress whilst those drunk bastards did body shots." Your mouth falls agape in shock.

"Wait what? I took off my dress in public?!" You were still in disbelief.

"Yeah and that’s not all” He says with a scoff “You let those twats lick salt and lemon off your body while they did shots. Thanks to Sandy who informed me on time." You rolled your eyes looking away. 

"After seeing you being used for body shots things got a little nasty out there and they had to close early."

"What did you do?" You ask anxiously. 

"That any man would do seeing his wife being touched by other men." He growls the last bit.

"What do you mean?" 

"I made sure they will be in the hospital for a good couple of months." He states rather proudly. 

You slap your forehead shaking your head in annoyance. You didn't realize that you had let go off the sheets covering your body giving Tom quite a view which he had missed the other day. 

He slowly leans forward, eyeing you up and down lustfully prompting you to back off until your back touched the head board. He crawls towards you further hovering over you reaching his hand out to cup your face.

"You really upset me yesterday Y/N." His voice low as his hand brushes your hair from your shoulder and travels downs to your chest fingertips gently brushing over your rib cage down to the valley of your breasts slightly tugging to the soft material of your bra. You caught hold of his hand to stop him from going down further, he smirks. 

"Funny how you allow strangers to touch you, but not me, your husband who has the only right to do it." You kicked his crotch but not too hard. 

"Bloody hell!!" He groaned as you tackled him down bringing yourself on top straddling him. You were far gone from feeling self conscious, sitting on top of him in just your undergarments. 

"Well the thing is I don't take you as my husband." You sneer narrowing your eyes. "And the last time I checked, you don't trust me." 

"Well I never trusted you on the first place and you proved it last night quite nicely for the reason why” He says. “but honey I'm not letting you go so easily."

"After a lot of thought I actually think you could be a perfect leverage for me" He then goes to press his hand to your lower stomach "Moreover if you were with my child I guess grandpa Victor will certainly agree to some negotiations" He ticked his jaw with a devilish grin. You flare your nostrils fuming at his audacity. 

"I would rather be barren than let you father my child and give him/her this cursed life." You seeth. Tom seemed a little hurt by your words of how you think he's going to be a terrible father but he masked it with his usual cocky self. 

"Truth be told princess I love to be on top and in control but for a change you really look so pretty on top, can't imagine how beautiful you'll look while you ride my dick" He says tracing your jawline with his fingers. You swat his hand away. 

"You're such a piece of shit!" You snap getting off him. He gets up chuckling and leaves the room as you quickly get off the bed and run to the bathroom. 

Undressing yourself from the leftover clothes you ran a warm shower, the warm water quickly relaxing your muscles. You smelt of sweat, alcohol and cigarettes which made you feel dirty. You squirted some body wash and lathered your body with it before washing it off. Then you washed your hair with shampoo. 

You take your time before drying yourself off and walk out of the bathroom busy fixing your towel and bumped into Tom. His large hands held your arms steadying you meanwhile your towel loosens and falls off your body. You both looked at each other in shock. 

Tom stands there like a statue gaping at you, eyes lingering from top to bottom of your exposed body; ‘man you have a goddess like body’ he thought as beads of water trickled down your wet hair. You finally come back to your senses then it suddenly hit you that you were standing completely naked. 

"What the fuck!! Tom close your eyes!!!" You shriek out quickly bending down to grab the towel and cover yourself. Hearing you scream Harrison came barging in your room. 

"What happened mate?" Out of instinct Tom lunges forward and embraces you tightly blocking you from anyone's view.

"Harrison! Get the fuck out of here!" 

"Oh I'm sorry bruh. Didn't know you were busy." He cackles turning around. Some of his other men also came rushing in thinking something happened, leading to a total chaotic situation in the room. 

"Yes, who else is left to join the party you are cordially invited!" You yell frustrated. 

Tom is still guarding you as he yells sharply. "Get out of here you bloody morons!" 

When everyone is finally out of the room Tom steps back as you stand at your place clutching on to your towel, both of you looking away from each other. After a few awkward moments of silence Tom finally speaks up. 

"That was quite a spectacular view, you have kept things quite perked up I see." He says playfully. And that was enough to get on your nerves. 

"You!!!" You glower taking the vase you found near you in your hand to hurl it at him. He steps back a little, raising his hands defensively. 

"Careful love! That cost me thousands of dollars, though I don't have any shortage of money but still don't want a lovely art to go to waste just to appease your anger on your piece of shit husband" He snickers breaking into a laugh and runs out of the room leaving you fuming. 

"Son of a bitch! Uggh!!" You stomp your feet keeping back the vase at its place. Your phone dinged and you went to check, it was a message from William. 

W : Good news

..................................................................

Taglist in bio or send an ask/dm I’ll add you

[luna-rainbow]

I know like 10,000 years late to this conversation lol but I just read a couple of quotes from Kari Skogland about John Walker that made me so confused: "I wanted people to like him. And I think everybody does like him...So you kind of like him a little bit, even though then he goes on to do something horrific, but you at least understand where it comes from. Then when [Contessa] sort of picks up the pieces after he’s been stripped of everything, I think you hope for him and that’s the most important thing—you just hope for him."

I just...I...what? How do fuck up this badly. The vast majority of the fandom didn't like Walker from the second he showed up, and a good chunk still don't like him now. Why did they think that having a man brutally murder someone, then try to murder the two protagonists who are also fan favorites, and then get nothing more than a simple slap on the wrist would make the majority of people feel sympathetic towards him?

Thanks for the great ask!

I actively avoided watching interviews after TFATWS because there's so much cringe material.

Initially I thought she might have been trying to say that John was likeable from a "story world" point of view. He was presented to the world as an elite medalled soldier, and he is likeable amongst his peers...and then I saw the rest of the quote and noped.

On the one hand, I do think John is maligned by the fandom.

On the other hand, it is clear (particularly from this quote) that the series has consciously written a sympathetic arc for what should have been an antagonist foil. What you get is - and what you'll find is if you go through his tags - the inevitability of fans hating the protagonists for not sympathising enough with John. I think, when your assignment is to write a series showing why our two protagonists are heroes, if you end up writing an arc for their antagonist that makes your heroes come across as insensitive and mean-spirited, you have failed somewhere.

There's a fine line between grey and messy, and most of the time TFATWS is messier than it is grey. What I mean is, in a well written story (there was a great meta on Black Panther recently and how Nakia, Erik and ...can't remember if it was W'Kabi of N'Jobu, all represented different views on what Wakanda's future should be, and that was what T'Challa had to confront as a king), all the different subplots should come together to support the main theme.

The main theme is Sam as an oppressed racial minority coming to terms with becoming Captain America. But it's undermined by a) an oppressed racial minority fighting for social justice being painted as an extremist; b) an archetypal white privileged man given extra scenes to build sympathy and redeem him into an antihero; c) another white privileged man given extra scenes to build sympathy and redeem him into an antivillain.

The amount of care and attention that is given to Walker's arc is more than what Sam and Bucky got combined, and sadly...this quote just showed that Skogland didn't care about the task she was given. Instead, what she wanted was to make her own mark on the MCU, and to do this, she gave one of the new side characters the only protagonist arc of the whole series.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Flash of Mauve, Splash of Puce // Colin Bridgerton

Request: Hi Millie!! Could I request a Colin Bridgerton comfort fic, in which the reader gets anxious about their grand first soirée as newlyweds? 🧡 - @gryffindors-weasley

A/N: Oh Sophie, I do adore this request. Thank you so much for requesting! I hope I have done it justice! This does get a little steamy towards the end so I apologise if that makes anyone uncomfortable or if it offends anyone (that wasn't my intention). Title: The Phantom of the Opera - Masquerade.

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: use of female pronouns, use of the word ‘wife’, masquerade balls, lots of fluff and comfort, anxiousness, worries, panic, ballroom dancing, mentions of alcohol. THIS GOT ACCIDENTALLY STEAMY AND THEN FADES TO BLACK, I AM APOLOGISING NOW.

Word count: 3.2k

The annual masquerade ball held exclusively at Bridgerton House was not an event to be missed. Anyone who was anyone in London society was invited; it was a night in which alliances were forged, relationships bloomed, and wit tested to its very brink.

There was no better hostess than that of Violet Bridgerton; her astute eye caught every imperfection, fixing it within a matter of moments. Having held this ball for close to thirty years, she knew exactly how to play the crowd to achieve the perfect reaction.

This meant that her family had to be punctual; they had no excuse for lateness no matter how early into a marriage they find themselves. Violet Bridgerton rarely demanded anything of her children; happy for them to find their own way in life with only little interference on her behalf, but she would absolutely not accept her beloved children being late to their own mother’s ball when they have been guests at the event for all of their lives.

-------------------

The rings sit happily on your left hand. At the right angle, they shimmer in the light of the room, bringing a small smile to your face even as you release a shaky breath. Your gown of gold hugs your figure, cut in the same style as your wedding dress. The skirts flare out in a manner that you know would be spectacular when spun around the dancefloor.

Nerves were beginning to make themselves known; in the shaking of your hands, the turning of your stomach and the wateriness of your smile. Tonight would be your first event with Colin as your husband. How many balls had he courted you at? Four? Five? Too many to count yet tonight was something else entirely; a new level to your life that felt as if it was going to be inspected at every turn.

Pinching your cheeks, you try to bring some colour to your face, hoping it would do something to bring some life into your worried expression.

The door to your bedroom opens with a small click. In the mirror, you spy the muscular figure of the man you had pledged your forever to. Colin shuts the door to your room; leaning back against it with a satisfied smile.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” You ask, trying to keep the hope out of your voice. You’d give anything to stop the growing worry turning your gut to lead, even if that meant trapping yourself in your room all night.

Colin remains silent, his blue eyes growing darker as his gaze runs over the way your dress hangs from your body. The tightened waist pushing your breasts higher on your chest; he lets his stare linger there for a moment before meeting your eyes in the mirror and smiling wickedly.

You roll your eyes, returning your focus to ridding yourself of the worry plaguing you. Logically you knew that tonight was going to be a wonderful evening; spending time with your family and dancing with your new husband. Yet, you couldn’t help but panic over the myriad of eyes watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up in some shape or form so it can become the juicy material whispered around high tea in the week after the ball.

Without a word, Colin pushes himself off the door, strolling leisurely to where you stand before the large mirror. “You look exquisite,” Colin murmurs, trailing feather light kisses along your shoulder to the base of your neck. You tilt your head, giving your insatiable husband easier access to the skin he had spent most of the honeymoon marking with his lips.

He shifts your hair to one side, dropping a slow kiss to the nape of your neck before whispering against your skin, “If I wasn’t so terrified of my mother’s wrath, I would have removed this dress by now.”

Laughter leaves your lips, but it doesn’t sound right. It sounds strangled; too much emotion clogging up your throat, making it hard for the laughter to sound genuine. If you had it your way, Colin would be removing your dress, kissing you on whatever piece of skin a button reveals.

“Darling,” Colin whispers, gently commanding, “Look at me.”

Turning to face him, you can just about make out his brunette hair. The rest of his face is blurred with tears that threaten to fall with the ever growing need to blink. His hands are gentle as he clasps your face; thumbs stroking your cheekbones in a comforting manner.

“If you can, tell me what the matter is.”

Releasing a deep breath, your hands shake slightly as you whisper, “There are so many people coming tonight.”

“It’s the largest ball of the season…” Colin admits. “You know my mother,” He offers apologetically.

“They’re going to be watching us. Watching me, checking for signs…”

“For signs of what?”

“That the marriage is prosperous,” You stutter, uncomfortable with the idea of so many eyes on you so soon after your wedding.

Colin frowns; hands slipping from your face to your shoulders where he rubs soothing circles into the bare skin. Your eyes slip closed from the simple touch; skin heating at the feel of your husband’s hands.

“Think of it as no different from any other ball you have been to,” His hands drop to your waist, pulling you to him, “I am going to be here the entire time.”

You hide your face in his chest, your arms coming up to hold him. “I hate the speculation.”

“I do too,” Colin mutters. “I’d like to live my life without constant comment from the ton but it’s part and parcel of being a Bridgerton.”

You sigh, keeping your face hidden in his chest, relishing the way his hands run up and down your back. “It’s our first big outing as a newly married couple,” You state smally, “I’m scared.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Colin asks, a smile gracing his face.

“What?”

“I’m scared too.”

“You are?” You gasp, your eyes running over his face, trying to find a hint of the fear and worry you feel.

He nods. “But I have you by my side all night so I know I can face it.”

“You have me,” You state firmly. “Do I have you?”

“You have me,” He promises, “Now and forever.”

-----------------

The gossips of the London ton could never deny one thing: Violet Bridgerton always outdid herself. She always managed to keep the theme of the night current and the decorations spellbinding.

This year’s theme for the annual Bridgerton Ball was the sun and the stars tied in with the masquerade that Violet so adores.

Your golden gown shimmers under the light of the room; catching sight of the youngest Bridgertons – Gregory and Hyacinth – arguing over something impossible to decipher. Colin remains a steady presence by your side, leading you through the room, smiling and nodding at the many people.

Freezing in place, your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sheer amount of people. The Bridgerton family were adored by all; it made sense for this many people to show when beckoned by its matriarch. Still, seeing it from a new perspective had your fear returning full force.

Colin’s warm hand settles on the small of your back, coaxing you out of your stupor. “You’re doing wonderfully,” He murmurs, “You’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“You’re saying that because I’m your wife,” You tease breathlessly, fear freezing your veins.

Colin shakes his head in fake exasperation. “Even if we weren’t married, my love, I would still think you the most beautiful.”

“I love you,” You respond, voice loud enough for only Colin to hear. He ducks his head at your words; still not used to hearing them leave your lips despite the rings sitting on your finger. “I love you too,” He answers, reaching for your hand and bringing it up to his lips.

He looks pained as he catches the eye of someone across the room. “Anthony is beckoning me,” Colin states, turning his attention from his brother back to you.

“Go,” You urge.

“I don’t want to leave you when you’re this upset.”

“Colin,” You whisper, briefly touching his cheek, “He’s your brother; go to him, see what he needs and then return to me when you can. I’m sure I can find someone to talk to, I think I saw Eloise and your mother a few moments ago.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, blue eyes running over your face.

“I’m sure. Anthony wouldn’t ask for you if it wasn’t important.”

Colin ducks his head; pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek then another to the corner of your mouth. Quietly, so only you can hear, he whispers, “I love you more than life itself.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” You say with a playful shove to his shoulder. Standing on your tiptoes, you press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too. Now go before Anthony throws a tantrum.”

Colin leaves you with a wide smile and a bow. Shaking your head fondly, you think of your husband as you take a turn of the room, looking for a Bridgerton to talk to. Metallics fill the expansive room; silver and gold flashing on dresses as they’re spun across the floor. Dark blues and purples dotted about as conversations and laughter perfume the air, bringing with it a lighter atmosphere that has you wondering what your initial fears were about.

“Mrs. Bridgerton!” An all-too familiar voice calls.

Turning on instinct, you find yourself face to face with Miss Whittaker. She had come out with you in the same year; she had received a number of proposals – all from well to do gentleman but none were good enough for her. She knew her worth which was admirable, but the way she belittled those she called her friends made it hard to find her truly likeable. A month into your season, you chose to stay well away. You hadn’t looked back since.

“How are you, darling?” Miss Whittaker titters; her acute gaze taking in every aspect of your outfit – down to the very last stitch in your dresses hem.

“I’m very well, thank you. How are you?”

“Delightful, darling. Delightful.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” You answer as earnestly as you can, eyes dancing around the room in the hopes of finding Colin free from Anthony’s clutches.

“Has he already disappeared?” She asks, voice laced with something akin to venom.

“Has who already disappeared?” You ask; face the picture of innocence despite the anger laced with worry settling deep in your veins.

“Why Colin, of course!” She laughs, “I never thought him serious enough for marriage.”

You step back, your mouth falling open in shock as her barbed words poison the very air around you. The familiar burn of tears starts in the back of your eyes, but you push them away; refusing to let the odious woman see how she affects you.

“That’s an awful thing to say,” You whisper, feelings hurt on behalf of your beloved husband.

Miss Whittaker simply shrugs; her voice bored as she utters, “It’s simply the truth.”

“I would hope that the truth you are admitting is one with reliable sources,” Colin’s voice sounds from behind you; his voice stern as he fixes his stare on Miss Whittaker.

Colour blooms high on Miss Whittaker’s cheeks; anger flushing her complexion. Without another word, she flicks open her fan before stalking away from the two of you.

“Are you alright?” Colin asks when Miss Whittaker is a safe distance away, his voice concerned.

“She always was a piece of work,” You comment; keeping your tone light when all you wanted to do was return home.

“You’re not hurt though? You’re sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, my love,” You state, bringing a gloved hand up to brush his cheek, “Only shocked and hurt at her words.”

Colin frowns, but it doesn’t remain on his face long when you poke at the expression, uncaring whether the whole ballroom was watching you in this exact moment. “I don’t like it when you frown,” You state, poking his cheek one last time.

Colin catches your hand in his, kissing each individual finger before kissing the back of it. “And I don’t like it when you’re upset or when someone upsets you.”

“I guess we’re even then,” You sigh, your now tangled hands dangling at your side.

Colin rolls his eyes, smiling widely at you. The band falls silent to which Colin gets an idea; his mother had told him the order of the dances which he memorised, so he knew which ones to dance with you. He loved nothing more than holding you in his arms; feeling your body pressed against his, noting every rise and fall of your chest.

Clasping your hand tightly in his, Colin begins to lead you the dancefloor. “What are you doing?” You ask, sounding panicked as Colin leads you to the dance floor.

“Dancing with my wife,” Colin states bluntly, settling in front of you with an open hand.

“It is not customary for the husband to dance a waltz with his wife.”

Colin smirks; the picture of nonchalance as he lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I am not one for custom when my wife looks as stunning as you do right now.”

The music soon begins, and you are swept away in a symphony of rises and falls and the intoxicating presence of your husband. Colin holds your gaze through the dance; his eyes searching yours for any hint of panic and upset. His face relaxes into a breathtaking smile when he finds you happy in your current state; held by your husband in a sea of dancers.

Those that find themselves without a partner stand on the side of the floor, whispering behind their fans of the impropriety being shown here tonight. However, among the many are the few that watch Colin and you twirl across the floor. They take note of how gently he holds your hand, how steadily his hand rests on your lower back and how smitten he looks as he smiles down at you.

In years to come, this dance would still be a topic of conversation amongst London’s gossips but even the gossips could no longer deny the true love exemplified by the both of you.

The orchestra falls silent as the dance comes to an end. Light applause breaks out across the room as your chest rises and falls with the exhaustion that accompanies such a dance. Colin smiles at you, leaving you even more breathless as you step away from far enough for him to still keep a grip on your waist.

“Are you ready to go?” Colin asks, eyes holding the promise of something far more fun than countless dances with the love of your life.

“Take me home, Colin.”

----------------

Colin dismisses the maids and his valet as soon as you walk through the door to your home. When your maids protest, worried about how you would get out of your dress, Colin states quite clearly for the staff that he would be the one to help you with the buttons, laces, stays and whatever else he may come across.

Your maids flush deeply, and you send them an apologetic smile as your husband leads you up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

Any and all worries are forgotten the moment Colin presses his lips to yours, walking you backwards to the bed. Laughter spills from your lips as Colin continues his trail of kisses, beginning at the corner of your mouth before travelling down the expanse of your neck to the top of your breasts, peeking out from the top of your dress. Your breath hitches when Colin kisses a particularly sensitive spot; a low groan follows when he latches onto that area, kissing a love bite there.

As your breath deepens; as your eyes follow Colin’s path of kisses down your chest, he suddenly stops. With a devilish smile, he taps your side, “I think this is getting in our way, don’t you?”

Wordlessly, you nod. Colin’s smile grows larger as his arms wind around your back, finding the buttons to your dress. He undoes them with expert precision, barely interrupting the way in which he captures your lips once more. Sighing happily against his mouth, you note that he tastes of the champagne he had enjoyed before your final dance of the evening; if you focused, you could feel the bubbles of the drink on your own tongue.

You can’t focus, however. Colin’s undone your dress, letting the gold slip from your body as if it were molten liquid. He stands back; loving the way you chase him for further contact. He stands back to get full sight of you before him; standing like a goddess before a mere mortal man. Colin is ready to worship on his knees to be worthy of a woman such as you. He doesn’t deserve you; despite your arguments, you’re too good for him but he would be damned if another man got to see you like this. Skin flushed, chest heaving with anticipation. No – this was a sight purely for him.

His attention turns to your corset, bringing you to him, his nimble fingers begin to work on the criss-cross of laces. With every lace undone, Colin presses a kiss to your bare skin, enjoying the way it heats under his touch. You hum contentedly with every kiss; your fingers running across the broad plains of Colin’s shoulders, squeezing whenever he find a sensitive spot.

The corset is torn from your body; leaving you before him without an ounce of shame. He loves you so wholly that you can’t find it in yourself to hide from him.

Colin’s famously blue eyes do not leave yours as he reaches up, tugging loose the cravat wrapping around his neck. In no time at all, your husband is shirtless, and reaching for you like a starved man would reach for food.

---------------

Your dress is hung. Your nightdress hugging your body softly as you slip under the covers of your marriage bed waiting for the love of your life to join you. Colin tugs on a pair of light cotton trousers he had bought on your honeymoon not even two months ago before joining you in bed.

Rolling onto your side, you rest your head on Colin’s bare shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with your hand.

“You were a marvel tonight,” Colin whispers into the dark room; his voice giving away his tiredness.

“I had you there to help,” You confess, feeling your eyelids grow heavier as Colin’s arm tightens around you.

“And I’ll always be there,” are his last words before sleep sweeps Colin into its land of dreams. Turning your face, you let your eyes slip closed as you press one, two, three kisses to Colin’s shoulder, enjoying the sleepy hum that falls from his lips and the squeeze of his hand on your waist.

Sleep soon claims you, bringing you to your own land of dreams. Your final thought of the night relating to the man holding you so gently in his arms, feeling his love for you emanating from his body, knowing happily that you return it just as earnestly.

******

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​ 

Taglists are open! Drop me an ask if you would like to be added!

[st-louis]

a list of hockey podcasts

i spend... a lot of time reading about, listening to, and learning about hockey and i thought maybe you guys might be interested in the podcasts i follow. i don’t always listen to every episode of every show, but they’re things i have in my subscriptions and listen to frequently.

i’m going to end up having to put this under a cut because it’s getting really long.

general podcasts

the hockey pdocast - without a doubt my favorite general hockey podcast. dimitri filipovic is a stats guy who writes for eprinkside, and his analytic cast definitely shines through in the way he handles the topics. i like the variety of deep dives he does and i always feel like i come away from listening with better understanding of the topic because he doesn’t just talk stats, but gives you context for why those numbers might be the way they are, so if you’re trying to become more familiar with advanced stats this a great one to listen to. also his voice is just so soothing. absolutely my favorite car show.

the athletic hockey show - it’s frequent, long, and informative, but there are different hosts depending on the day and i definitely enjoy listening to some of them more than others (i like ian and hailey a lot, i enjoy the seans, craig and pierre know what they’re talking about but hoo boy i do not enjoy their episodes so much).

staff & graph - they are definitely leafs homers and some of their takes really annoy me especially because they purport to be analysis based and then like... will come out with something that’s not really an analysis so much as it’s, you’re a leafs fan and that’s your opinion, but for the most part i do enjoy it. doerrie is a former front office employee of the devils and she has a lot of very interesting inside knowledge and knowledge based on actually working closely with hockey teams. she still has connections so if you’re interested in ‘sources,’ she usually has good info and stories. again, usually come away feeling like i learned something.

soul on ice - kwame damon mason (film director and hockey fan), akil thomas (kings prospect), elijah roberts (formerly of the niagra ice dogs, currently playing college hockey) hang out and talk hockey and interview guests. they’re all really likeable dudes and have a lot of interviews with players of color and other interesting topics (taya currie!). a solid listen from both a fan and player perspective, for example it was cool to hear akil talking about his experiences during the covid season.

the cross-check nhl show - decent general hockey talk show. andrew berkshire is a habs writer and mary clarke is a general hockey writer but a flyers fan (a show made for me, haha). they’re likeable and have good opinions on social justice related issues within hockey. they cover major stories around the league, discuss their personal teams, and also do a little pop culture segment at the end that i usually skip.

hockey central - unfortunately this is like the epitome of a hockey man podcast (as in, it is literally all hockey men). they come from a variety of backgrounds, including players and coaches, and generally the actual hockey talk is good, even if they get on my nerves sometimes. if you want to know what the average player/former player is thinking this is a pretty good one. and they update a lot.

31 thoughts - jeff marek (also of the hockey central pod) and elliotte friedman talk hockey. if you’re looking for “insider” info this is one of those you’re gonna want to listen to. a bit wishy washy when it comes to stuff like the hawks scandals.

behind the gear - this is an interesting one, because they interview a lot of “lesser known” personalities but it’s always a pretty solid interview. again, i don’t listen to every interview but if there’s a guest that looks interesting, i’ll mark it for later. they have a bunch of interviews with nick and ryan suzuki so that was a personal interest of mine, haha.

puck soup - i almost never listen to this one because it’s too long (like episodes upwards of 100 minutes) and i really don’t like wyshynski as a person. but i do appreciate sean mcindoe. usually only tune in if there’s a topic i’m interested in.

6 degrees with mike mckenna - mike mckenna (former journeyman goalie and flyers goalie of the Eight Goalie Year and former vgk broadcast)’s interview / general hockey show. he’s very personable and a good interviewer.

the press zone - a show mostly focused on prospects, whether that’s in major juniors, the ahl, european leagues, etc. it’s a deeper dive into an area that a lot of the other shows don’t necessarily get to, so i appreciate it.

the hockey think tank - another ‘smaller’ podcast with some interesting and unexpected interviews. again, don’t listen to it all the time but it’s worth a shot if they have a topic you like.

the full 60 - craig custance’s solo show. another “insider.”

missin curfew - i usually only listen to this one if they have a guest i’m interested in because this is also a very bad example of hockey men hanging out and talking and you want to strangle them mostly. it’s two other dudes and kevin hayes’ older brother so you can pretty much expect exactly what you are getting from them.

the broadscast - wish there were more female hockey podcast hosts, but this one is a good one. i like the variety of guests that they have on. i don’t listen to it every episode but will tune in if there’s a topic i like.

flyers-related podcasts

broad street radio - i have such a hate/hate relationship with this one. it’s like the flyers podcast but i hate most of the hosts. i listen mostly for charlie o’connor, who is the only one who can reign in their terrible opinions.

flyers daily - daily news about the flyers, game recaps, and interviews with players. usually short and no-frills episodes, which i appreciate. myrtetus also plays goalie in beer league so he has a player’s perspective, at least, from that level.

flyers talk - nbc’s podcast with jordan hall, taryn hatcher, and joe fordyce. pretty basic talk show from a beat reporter, a former broadcast, and a guy named joe. again fairly no frills, do not always agree with them, but decent enough information.

everything but hockey - andrea helfrich, the most beautiful woman in the world’s, podcast. she does interviews with a lot of people who work with the team in some capacity (for example, nyree, the nutritionist) are associated with the team (she is great with interviewing wives and girlfriends), and the players themselves. she is super charming and good at talking to people so the episodes are usually fun to listen to.

snow the goalie - two flyers beat reporters i dislike but who nevertheless sometimes have The Info.

locked-on flyers - i haven’t actually listened to this much yet but i like locked-on habs a lot and i’m gonna have to give it a chance.

nasty knuckles - this is a podcast i absolutely suffer through. settlemyre is so fucking annoying and maybe the worst interviewer i’ve ever heard. however, if you are interested in the flyers, he has the goods. riley cote is also here. i have to get back to actually transcribing these again because really you don’t want to listen to them.

habs-related podcasts

le support athlétique - arpon and marc antoine from the athletic talk the habs. alternating episodes in french and english, which is frustrating when they are talking in french about something i want to listen to, but i think it’s cool that they provide for the entirety of the fanbase. they are fascinating to listen to, and obviously good friends. i enjoy their insights about the players and coaches.

eyes on the prize - one of my favorites. good hosts, great variety of topics, including interviews with european prospects that you don’t always hear from. it’s also an sbnation podcast but i like it so much better than i like bsh.

habs-statician - statistically-based habs analysis from a fan in toronto. dylan is a really thoughtful podcaster, and i appreciate listening to him very much. 

locked-on canadiens - another daily listen. laura and scott continue the theme of the habs podcasts i enjoy which is mostly that they are really reasonable about their view of the team. they criticize when players aren’t doing well, but not in a mean way, and they praise the players who are doing well. i like the daily analysis and breakdown of the news mixed in with sillier segments like who would play the habs in a movie.

habs tonight - former hab and flyer dale weise and a rotating cast of co-hosts discuss habs related topics. i was skeptical at first because i thought it might be gossipy, but it’s actually not that bad. the hockey talk from a former player is all like “wow, that makes so much sense” when you hear it (the episode where weise talks about joël bouchard, in the first negative thing i’d ever heard about him, is one that i am specifically thinking of here). he’s also good at interviewing his former teammates, you can tell they are at ease with him.

history in the making - national treasure marc dumont interviews habs prospects and other people associated with the team. he is so funny and charming and knowledgeable about hockey, it is always worth a listen.

habby hour - i don’t really enjoy these hosts but i will listen if they’re interviewing someone i’m interested in.

other teams-related podcasts that i listen to

steve dangle - i will admit i mostly started listening to this one as schadenfreude, but for the most part i enjoy it. i don’t really like the co-hosts but i do enjoy how absolutely fed up he is with the leafs. :) but on a more serious note, they do some good work, i was very impressed with their recent episode interviewing rick westhead about his work on the chicago coverups.

[mrs-gucci]

There seems to be a darker, more violent take on Clyde floating around right now and I LOVE it!! I’m working on one for him too!

Since you say open for darker requests, I’d love to hear your take on a more violent Clyde! He could be saving you from a stalker. Clyde can show him what a real bad ass can do and then show you how well he can treat you too lol! He could be protecting you from someone at the bar. He could be showing you his special forces skills after some gets aggressive. You name it lol!

Secrets of the Blood Moon {werewolf!Clyde x Reader darkfic}

author's notes: helloooo! my friend shannon, thank you for this request!! I am also a fan of the darker take on Clyde and I hope I did it some justice!! I worked really, really hard on this one, and I’m super pleased with how it turned out.

**PLEASE HEED THE DARKFIC WARNING!! THIS FIC INVOLVES SEVERAL VERY HEAVY AND VERY DARK THEMES, SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!**

warnings: angst. smut. hurt/comfort. a minor car crash. mentions of alcohol consumption. rut. knotting. breeding kink. werewolf stuff. attempted mating bite. murder coverup. clyde feels guilty.

tw's: noncon touching (not by clyde). involuntary attempted sexual assault (werewolf clyde pins her down & dry humps w/o consent, but human clyde doesn’t know he did it nor would ever intend to do it). blood & gore. graphic depictions of murder and violence. human-hunting. depictions of human body consumption (is it cannibalism if he’s technically a wolf when it happens?). werewolf sex.

**this is a work of FICTION. the author does not attempt to condone the actions/behaviors of the characters written.**

word count: 5.9k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​ ​@gildedstarlight (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

Last Night

Stepping out of your car, you’re instantly suffocated by the thick humidity of the West Virginia evening. The sun paints cotton candy across the sky as it sets behind the trees on the mountainous horizon, the almost full moon hot on its tail, slowly rising on the other side of the sky.

The blood moon comes tomorrow, and from the old folk tales your mom used to tell about the deep West Virginia countryside, some weird shit goes down under the crimson moon. You never really believed her. What all could happen in lil ol’ Boone County, anyway?

The moment you step into the refreshing, air-conditioned Duck Tape, you’re immediately greeted by a loud call of your name.

“Y/N!” You smile and wave at Jimmy. 

Clyde looks up and smiles at you as you come and sit down at the bar next to Jimmy. He serves the customer before coming over to talk with you and the eldest Logan.

You lean over the bar to give him a kiss, earning a couple hoots and hollers from the bar crowd, which made you both laugh as you pull away.

“How was work, buttercup?” He asks, wiping off some glasses. “Weren’t ya doin’ that one presentation today? How’d that go?”

You’re always so flattered that Clyde actually pays attention when you talk about work stuff. Most guys just smile and nod, but Clyde actually listens and remembers. He even remembered your one year anniversary at the company you currently work for, sending you takeout from your favorite place along with some flowers.

“Yeah, it was alright. Boring as hell, but the partners seemed pleased, so that’s all I can really ask for at this point.”

Both he a Jimmy give a small chuckle, nodding before Clyde mixes your favorite drink, setting it down in front of you a few minutes later. You thank him, and the three-way conversation continues before the bar door swings open. 

Something about the man’s entrance makes you look over, already smelling trouble as he steps over the threshold. His eyes are glued on you, a smug smirk etched on his expression. 

A hush falls over the patrons for a few seconds, all eyes on the leather-clad man. Clyde’s hackles are immediately up, body tense as the mystery man saunters over, plopping himself down onto the vacant stool next to yours. 

Things on the floor continue as normal, the chatter picking back up, and you subtly scoot a little closer to Jimmy. 

“Bartender?” A thick New York accent calls.

Clyde walks over, plastering a fake smile on his face, seemingly the epitome of southern hospitality.

“What can I getcha, sir?”

The man gives Clyde a once-over and snickers. “No, seriously, where’s the bartender? I’d like a drink.”

Your grip clenches around your glass. You absolutely hated it when people were dicks about Clyde’s hand.

“Seriously, I am the bartender.” He states firmly. “So, what can I get ya?”

His tone sends a chill down your spine. Normally, Clyde just shuts down whenever someone starts poking fun at his missing hand, but tonight, there was a certain air of frustration, of dominance.

You just thought he’d finally cracked, after years of dealing with this bullshit. But as you would learn, there was an alternate explanation for his sudden outwardly alpha-like behavior.

The guy seems to back off a little bit, just asking for a cold Coors straight from the bottle. You startle a bit when Clyde slams the bottle down on the counter in front of him, and you could swear his eyes turn a light grey for a second before returning to the dark brown pools you’re familiar with.

Everything’s quiet for a little while, the man sipping his beer in silence, before he turns to you. He doesn’t say anything at first, simply allowing his eyes to drink in your seated figure.

“What’s your name, baby girl?” The beer smell of his breath is strong as he leans in. “You lookin’ for someone to keep you company tonight?”

You roll your eyes. Douchebag. “Nope. I’m perfectly content just sitting here, thanks.”

Clyde’s watching the interaction like a hawk as he makes someone’s drink. It’s a wonder he can concentrate on the drink when his thoughts and eyes are glued to you.

His slimy hand touches down on your bare thigh, just above your knee, and you jump in your seat. He grins, trailing it up as he leans in even closer.

“Are you sure? I could show you a real good time...”

Glass shatters from behind the bar and then, Clyde’s grabbing the man by his biker jacket, tossing him onto the floor with an almost superhuman strength. You stand up, appalled, as the man on the hardwood scrambles to get up.

An icy grey begins to frost over his sweet chocolate irises as Clyde clenches his fists by his side. 

“Don’t ya dare touch ma girl, ye pervert.” He growls, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Someone ought to show ya what respect looks like.”

The bar has fallen pin-drop silent, all sets of eyes focused in on the developing scene. He cocks his fist above his head, snarling as he readies to pounce on the helpless man. 

It’s then that Jimmy hops up and puts himself between the two men, holding his hands up in front of Clyde. “Don’t do this t’ yerself. Ye know what’ll happen if ya do.”

This seems to bring him back, the warmness flooding back to his irises. His shoulders slump as he huffs softly, pushing past his older brother angrily, storming into his office and slamming the door behind him.

Shakily, the man stands and puts a twenty down on the table before running out of the bar, bell jingling against the wooden door as it eases shut after him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rare blood moon hangs in its place against the pitch black sky as you pull up to the Logan’s trailer home. There aren’t any stars in the clear night’s sky, despite it being the dead of summer, but you don’t think much of it as you approach the shadowed porch.

Moths flutter around the dimly flickering porch light while you peek through the windows, which were as black as the night. Not a single light was on.

Odd. The Pontiac’s parked in its normal spot outside.

You flip the threadbare ‘welcome’ mat up, revealing the rusting gold key beneath. Sticking it in the lock, you turn until the door pops open, an eerie creak accompanying it.

"Clyde?” You say, looking around the trailer’s living room as you flip the living room lights on.

You call for him again. Maybe he’s just taking a nap. “Clyde?”

Still no response. 

Now, you’re getting worried. There’s no note, nothing noticeably out of place; in fact, it’s almost all too still. It gives you the creeps, how still and quiet it is in here.

The scent of suspicion thickens the air around you, and you just get the most awful feeling in your gut that something bad is happening or is about to happen.

Adrenaline begins to pump through your veins as you quickly walk around, peeking in the kitchen, and in the spare room. The air seems to thicken again the closer to draw to Clyde’s room, and you push the door open with bated breath.

You’re absolutely mortified at the sight before you. 

Shreds of carpet, fabric, and mattress stuffing is scattered the floor, and giant claw marks have torn straight through the drywall. The blankets and comforter, at least the remains of them, are disheveled where they lay across the clawed-up mattress. 

His vanity mirror is almost fully shattered, and the products that once sat atop are now tossed across the floor. The chilly summer’s night air flutters the curtains on the opened window above the bed.

The first thought that comes to mind is a bear attack of some kind. Now fully freaking out, you’re wondering how in the world a bear got into the trailer, and why it only seemed to attack Clyde’s room. You scramble to grab your phone from your purse with shaky hands, dialing Jimmy’s number in haste.

Was this one of the blood moon enigmas mom warned about? No, no, bear attacks are pretty common around here.

 It takes a few rings before he picks up.

“Y/N?” He sounds out of breath, exhausted.

“Jimmy, hey. Do you know where Clyde is? I’m at the trailer, and--”

Something that sounds like a growl rips through the speaker, followed by a woman’s voice. 

“Is everything oka--”

“Mellie, I can’t help ya right now! I’ll be there in a second!” He yells in the background. “Sorry Y/N, you were sayin’ somethin’?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just at the trailer, and I peeked into Clyde’s room...”

“Ya didn’t touch anything, did ya?” His voice is rushed.

You shake your head, eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, no, but--”

The growl comes again, louder this time, and it almost sounds like it’s...a voice. A very deep and very animalistic one, but a voice nonetheless. And it was saying something, although you couldn’t really hear clearly enough.

“Jimmy, do you know where Clyde is?” You’re getting a little impatient.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Clyde, he’s okay, he’s, uhh, here with us.”

“Oh, uh, o-okay.”

But tonight was supposed to be your special night together.

“Y/N? Listen real close, now. I need ya to get outta the trailer and go home, right now. Don’t linger, and refrain from touchin’ anything in the trailer. Lock all yer doors n’ close all the windows when ya get back home, okay? ‘N don’t go outside for the rest’a the night.”

Okay, now you’re starting to get fearful. “What--”

“Jimmy!” Mellie’s panicked voice comes through the phone speaker again, this time a bit clearer. He curses under his breath.

Her cries clearly rattled the eldest Logan, and he quickly tells you to just do what he said and then hangs up in a frantic state. 

You’re frozen for a moment, but then you quickly scurry outside to your car, frantically looking around as you scramble to fit the key in the driver’s side door.  By some miracle, you hold your hand steady enough to unlock it, quickly shutting the door and turning on the engine, peeling out of there like a madwoman.

Suddenly, as you go to pull out of the driveway, a strange apparition appears at the edge of the wood across the street. You squint, trying to figure out what the hell it is. Whatever it is, though, it’s panting heavily and looks...inhuman.

It’s standing on two legs, but its large, probably almost seven feet tall if you had to guess, and must’ve had some type of black fur or skin since it almost blends in with the darkened forest.

The reddish light of the moon is the only light that reflects upon this mystery creature, before it seems to notice your car idling in the driveway. The crisp light grey pupils seemingly glimpse into your soul as the creature looks upon you.

Clearly, now, you can decipher what exactly it is, although you’re in utter shock and skeptical to think it real: A werewolf.

You quickly put the car in reverse, slamming down on the gas, flying backwards for a few seconds before colliding with the trailer’s tin wall. Your head slams forward onto the steering wheel, trickles of blood dribble down your forehead and nose as your consciousness is lost.

When you come to, only a few minutes later, you groan as the welt forms on your forehead. You look around, groggily, seeing that your car is in drive but isn’t moving. Surely when you’d passed out, your foot would’ve come off the brake and you would’ve rolled away...

Stepping out carefully, you find that some bricks have been placed in front of all four tires, effectively keeping the car at a dead standstill. 

Who in the world did this?

Then, you turn your head and walk slowly around to the front of your car, seeing the remnants of sharp teeth marks on your bumper. You’re frozen, a lump slowly crawling up your throat as the realization hits. 

A low growl comes from behind you, and your worst fears have suddenly been realized. You slowly, carefully spin around on your heels, afraid that one wrong move may make you tonight’s surprise entree.

Your eyes meet the soul-piercing grey’s of the werewolf, the one you’d seen at the edge of the forest minutes earlier. The one that seemingly saved your life, but...how did a werewolf know what to do?

As you continue to gaze at the large being before you, you’re struck with a sense of familiarity, almost as if you’d met them before. Strange, because you can’t recall ever encountering a werewolf. Hell, you’ve never even seen a wolf before, other than in pictures. Surely you’d remember coming into contact with a seemingly impossible biological phenomenon such as this one.

His presence is scarily comforting, and you find yourself briefly wondering what it’d feel like to be enveloped in his woolen arms. Well, arm, technically speaking. This particular werewolf seems to be missing the lower half of his left paw.

Then, your mind connects the dots, and you’re shocked to your very core. It wasn’t a bear that attacked Clyde’s room, it was Clyde. This werewolf that’s standing before you is Clyde. That’s why Jimmy and Mellie sounded so frantic and breathless on the phone; they must’ve been trying to keep him contained.

But why? Werewolves usually recognize the important people in their human lives...right? That’s why he’d saved you from rolling off...

Your headlights’ reflection was speared by your figure, creating a shadow that covered most of Clyde’s form, except for the very tips of his paws, which had enormous claws emerging from beneath the thick layer of fur.

“Clyde?” You whisper, and he seems to soften for a moment, falling down on all threes.

Just as you swallow the lump in your throat and begin to cautiously approach the creature, hand outstretched to allow him to smell you, his eyes suddenly darken, the once snowy grey now more like the color of storm clouds. 

He snarls, white teeth shining in the moon’s moody crimson-tinted reflection, and you immediately backtrack. Oh god, I’m fucked.

Your bottom collides with the front of your car, the engine thrumming lowly as it idles happily, grille warm from the machine inside. The headlights are now fully shining on the creature, fur shining under the bright lights as he approaches, lines of drool strung between his sharp fangs. 

“C-Clyde, please,” You plead with the creature. “It’s m-me, Y/N, your g-girlfriend. You know m-me, you don’t w-wanna do t-this...”

It doesn’t seem to do much to dissuade him, the animal within now overshadowing the kind, gentle man you know and love. No, this creature is something else. This isn’t your Clyde.

The wolf stops short of the hood, where you’ve crawled up onto and are laying back, raising his nose up in the air, sniffing. You’re perplexed by this action, but it becomes evident when his ear prick and he says, in that same deep, animalistic voice that was in the background of your call with Jimmy, 

“Mate.”

And then, he’s pouncing, trapping your hands above your head with his one arm while his legs scramble to find a good grip on the metallic surface of the car, hips rutting frantically. 

His muzzle dips down, wet nose running along your jawline and neck, teeth scraping dangerously against your thin skin. He quickly settles on a spot behind your ear, growling as his pink tongue darts out to begin lapping at the spot. 

You’re completely still, both physically restrained and unable to bring yourself to even try to move as the creature drags his fangs across the skin behind your ear. Your car is rocking back and forth with his hips’ violent movements, dragging his enormous cock against your lower stomach. 

He pants into your ear, breath hot as he prepares to sink his sharp fangs into your tender skin, marking you as his forever...

“CLYDE!”

Jimmy’s voice pierces through the still of the night. Crickets stop chirping for a moment, and Clyde’s body stills. His head whips around, snarling at his brother.

Mellie’s right behind him, and she peers around him, trying to look at you. “Y/N, are ya alright?”

“YYYeah,” You manage, somehow. “I-I’m o-okay.”

Clyde hops down, all three feet planted on the ground, hackles up as Jimmy takes a step forward. “Mate.”

“She ain’t yer mate.” Jimmy says, calmly. He points to you. “Look at whatcha done to ‘er, Clyde. Would a mate look like that, huh? Look at ‘er, Clyde, she’s all beat up and scared outta her damn mind.”

The wolf visibly stands down, slowly turning his head to look back at you, seeing the scratches on your wrists and the marks on your neck. He sees the bit of wetness on your shirt and shorts, from his slick.

He hangs his head and begins to cry, whimpering and whining as he sprints off, surprisingly agile and quick for a wolf with three paws, across the road and back into the woods.

His blood’s boiling, he’s angry that he couldn’t defend you against Jimmy, mad that his alpha instincts had failed him. Even as a werewolf, one of the most powerful beings in the forest, he was still weaker than and overshadowed by his showboat older brother. 

Loud barks of anger rip through him as he masterfully maneuvers through the forest, weaving through the trees, dodging thorns, leaping over the fallen tree trunks. 

The sky suddenly begins to empty down onto Earth, the cool summer night’s rain a welcomed refreshment on Clyde’s fur. He looks up at the blood moon, huffing softly as he silently curses the orb for bringing this condition to him each full moon, as he did every single moon before this, and will continue to do with every one after.

He reaches his cave a few minutes later, stopping dead in his tracks when he smells smoke coming from inside. He’s on high alert, now, as he moves to peek into the cavern.

There, he finds a lone man sitting by a very small fire, rubbing his hands together over the heat. He’s clad in head-to-toe tree camo with a shotgun laying just out of arms reach.

This man’s scent feels awfully familiar, Clyde thinks, but it takes him a minute to figure out why. And, when he does remember, Clyde is suddenly not so sympathetic for the unwanted visitor in his cave.

The wolf’s mind falls to a certain memory from last night at Duck Tape. This is the jackass that thought he could get away with feelin’ you up. The one that poked plenty ‘a fun at his missing hand. 

Clyde’s still-hard cock presses up against his furry stomach in excitement, tongue licking over his razor-sharp fangs. He couldn’t protect or avenge you last night, again due to Jimmy, but maybe he can now. 

Jimmy ain’t gonna get in my way this time ‘round.

He can’t just come running into the entrance, no, that allows him too much time to grab the gun. He thinks, and thinks, until he remembers the connecting cave that he’d recently found on the last full moon. He bets he can get in there and creep up behind the man, do a sneak attack. 

He’s salivating in anticipation as he bounds down to the opposite side of the cave, paws padding lightly against the soft gravelly dirt floor, trotting along carefully.

The man is none the wiser to the wolf’s presence, and the hum of the loud rain certainly wasn’t hurting. A loud crack of thunder suddenly rips through the forest, vibrating the ground. Clyde freezes briefly as the young man curls up further, chin resting in the gap between his knees. 

Predatory instincts pumping through his veins at an all-time high, he crouches down as he stalks closer and closer to the unsuspecting body by the small fire. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, now right behind the man, moving in slow motion so as to not alert his victim.

When the time is right, just as the next clap of thunder rumbles the rocks, Clyde pounces. He grabs the man’s shirt, dragging him out of the cave with an unprecedented swiftness. The fire is extinguished with the tussle, leaving the cave shrouded in darkness, the shotgun laid abandoned on the ground where he’d put it.

He struggles against the wolf’s grip, fabric ripping violently the further his body’s dragged along. Clyde throws him out onto the forest floor, pawing at the ground like a wild stallion as the disheveled man scrambles to his feet.

His hands are shaky as he holds them up in front of him, as if trying to calm the creature like a domesticated dog.  “E-Easy, easy.”

If he could, Clyde would’ve rolled his eyes at the man’s pathetic attempt to talk down at him. He snarls, watching in amusement at the way he startles and stumbles back. 

Clyde’s got the man backed against the trunk of an old oak within seconds, and he stands up on two legs, glaring at the much smaller figure. He bares his teeth, a wolf’s version of a devilish grin.

“Run.”

It seems like the man is caught in between being shocked that this wolf just spoke English and being chilled to the core by his word. He sputters for a moment, brain smoking as it churns on overdrive, before his legs carry him as quickly as they can down the mountainside. 

The wolf casually trots along after him, in very little rush to catch him. He’s throbbing hard now, the excitement translating into pure arousal. Clyde knows these woods like the back of his hand; there’s no where for this man to hide from his inevitable fate as the wolf-man’s next meal.

His head continuously whips around, meeting the grayish-white orbs tucked behind a thick coat of jet black fur. In a frenzy, he tucks himself behind a large tree, catching his breath.

Twigs snap in seemingly all directions, his breath heavy as his eyes flicker all around the dark, damp wood, the only light coming from the crimson-tinted orb above. He reaches back and wraps his arms around the tree’s trunk, panicked.

A low growl rattles his eardrums and he looks to the side, seeing the black creature right at his side. Clyde’s head snaps to the side, looking directly at his victim.

Crying out in fear, the man leaps forward to make a run for it, but is quickly taken to the dirt by the wolfish creature. The man squirms and screams out for mercy, for God, and Clyde knows what he has to do now.

He quickly sinks his teeth into the back of the mans neck repeatedly, effectively severing the spinal cord, leaving the man completely limp and defenseless. A quick and effective manner of disabling a victim, he’s learned through hunting animals, but keeps him just alive enough to see what’s being done to him. 

Clyde flips the limp form over, now on his back, and his eyes are wide as he watches the wolf above him, black fur now stained red around the mouth, stare down at him with a hungry gaze.

His mouth opens, probably to beg for his life, but it’s too late. Fangs sink through his shirt and into the flesh of his chest, just above where his rapidly beating heart lay.

The thump-thump rhythm slows, then stops, the life leaving his body. Sweet copper tang coats the wolf’s tongue as the body is drained of its remaining energy. 

There is little feeling better than watching the life slowly and steadily drain from the eyes of a victim, and suddenly, Clyde’s throbbing arousal has reached an almost unmanageable point.

But, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to devour his freshly-caught prey, especially while it’s still warm. So he digs in immediately, carving further into the hole over the heart he’d already created, ripping out the vital organ.

He holds it triumphantly between his teeth for a moment before setting it aside. His craving is more for the meat, he’s never been much of a fan of organs, so he gets to work separating the good meat from the corpse.

Once he’s done, he lifts his nose in the air, howling loudly. He’s never been this hard before, he swears it, and there’s only one person that can satisfy this urge:

You.

For a wolf on three legs, he reaches your house in record time. He can already feel the wolf-ness fading steadily, the human beginning to peek through the cracks. But, his rut doesn’t give at all, and he bounds up the steps and scratches at your door.

You’re startled by the noise, already a gut feeling you know who it is. When you open the door, Clyde’s wolf figure is sitting politely on your doormat.  Should you let him in?

He pushes past, whimpering as he does so, before you can make a decision. You shut the door slowly before turning around to face the creature. He seems a bit different than when you saw him earlier, seeming a bit more human.

You stand against the door, back pressed up against it, looking down at the wolf in your living room. 

“Y/N.” He breathes, huskily, attempting to ignore the hardness pressing up against his wooly stomach. “N-Need you. Please.”

He’s ashamed as he stands up on his hind legs, wrapping a clawed hand around his oozing cock, jutting his hips out as if to show off for you. The alpha in him needs to show you how suitable of a mate he is, what strong pups he can give you.

“It hhhhurts, b-buttercup.”

The battle going on inside him, animal versus human, is painfully evident on his expression. Your hearts been ripped in half as you watch him struggle with himself, the human trying to overpower the animal, and the animal trying to fight off the human.  He doesn’t even know what he did to you earlier. 

“What do you need from me, Clyde? I’m here to help you, honey, I’ll do whatever you need.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but its quickly replaced by a look of what can only be described as pure, primal hunger.

“Floor. A-All fours.” The wolf-man manages, desperately humping his hand to offer some relief. “G-Get the lube, ffffuuuck, I mmuhhmight hurt ya without it.”

You rush to get the lube, placing the tube next to you as you pull your leggings down, exposing your bare cunt. Clyde watches with an eager anticipation as you spread yourself for him. 

As soon as you’re into position, he practically falls over on top of you, hips rutting uncontrollably as he smoothes lube over his drooling cock and lines up with your entrance. 

“B-Buttercup, I...I’m sssorry ‘bout what’s ggon’ happen. This ain’t me, ppuhpplease remember that, mmkay?”

You nod, tearing up at the pure agony in his voice. “I w-will, Clyde.”

His hips shove forward, a choked howl escaping his lips, balls tightening. You cry out, the burn of your walls stretching to accommodate his girthy length more prominent than usual.

Veins bulge out of his neck, jaw clenched as he begins moving, mercilessly plowing into you from behind. He plants his clawed hand next to yours, loud and desperate scratching noises accompanying the wet squelch of your joined torsos. 

The carpet is shredded, hardwood floor scratched permanently by his feet as he humps you with a desperation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. This really wasn’t Clyde, but you soon realized that you exactly mind this side of Clyde, this primal instinct, this roughness. It was arousing, bittersweetly so.

When you look over your shoulder at the wooly mass moving behind you, your eyes widen. You didn’t notice the shiny substance from a distance, but now that he’s up close, you see that it coats his snout and has even dripped down onto his breast.

A gripping fear bubbles in your stomach. But then, you rationalize immediately, before you find yourself too deep down in this rabbit hole of worry. He probably just hunted a deer or a rabbit or something. He’s a fucking wolf, remember?

You almost sigh out loud in relief, but you keep it in, instead moaning along with each of his thrusts.

“D-Did ya like muhmmahhmm--ma w-wolf cock?” He asks. 

You nod. “Y-Yeah, ohhh god, I liked it.”

“Gonna gguh-give ya real nice p-pups.” His muzzle rubs over the spot behind your ear, the same one that he’d been after earlier, smearing some of the crimson across your skin. He licks it with as much consistency as possible, considering the speed and intensity of his hips. “F-Fill ya u-up, knot ya gggood ‘n deep.”

You’re almost positive he’s talking pretty much nonsense at this point, his rut brain having completely taken over. You know you’re not gonna cum, but it doesn’t really matter; you’re doing this for him, after all.

“Oh g-god, I’m cummin’, I’m gonna--”

He pauses his hips, howling softly as he cums. But this time, something else begins to swell, and you cry out as it does so. 

“M-Ma k-knot,” Clyde breathes in explanation. “Keeps it a-all inside y-ya.”

You nod, not really knowing what all he’s talking about but not really caring for an explanation right now. 

“‘m gonna h-havta stay inside y-ya fer a lil while. S-Should be ‘b-bout 30 minutes or so.”

His tongue begins moving over your cheeks and neck, something that makes you smile, that helps you remember that your beloved boyfriend’s in there somewhere.

The half hour waiting period passes, and as much as you’ve loved snuggling with your boyfriend (who’s wolf counterpart is relatively cuddly, despite previous reservations), you’re happy to have him off you.

After wishing you a final goodbye, citing the need to ‘clean up his cave a bit’, he trotted back out the door and galloped like a madman (wolf?) back out into the shadowed wood, leaving you alone once more.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s all over the news when you flip on the TV a couple days later.  Hunter Found Slain in Boone County Woods, Bear Attack Suspected.

You have this awful, sick-to-your-stomach feeling that what happened the other night, when Clyde came to your house still in wolf form with a snout and chest covered in blood, had something to do with this. 

When the picture of the victim came up on the screen, you audibly gasp, recognizing the face. It’s the guy that was feeling you up at a few nights ago at Duck Tape. 

Oh god, no. 

Suddenly, the door flies open, and Clyde’s panting as he rushes in and shuts it behind him. He looks pained, bottom lip trembling. “Have ya s-seen the ne--”

“...Police are still investigating the scene...foul play has not yet been ruled out...”

His entire demeanor falls, and the tears fill his eyes. He’s visibly shaking. You stand up and rush over to him just as he collapses on the floor. 

You’re freaking out, trying to confirm what it is you’re pretty sure you already know.

“C-Clyde, did you...?”

He looks up at you from where his head now rests in your lap. “I c-can’t quite remember, b-but I think...I think I m-might’ve.”

Sobs wrack through his body as he cries hoarsely. You’re in shock, somehow hearing the words makes the reality suddenly hit like a damn semi-truck. You run your hands through Clyde’s slightly matted mane, soothing him as best you can. 

“Clyde, it’s okay, baby. It’s alright, it’s not your fault.” You whisper.

“Y-Yeah it i-is, though. I k-killed ‘im.”

You try to stay strong, for Clyde’s sake, but the tears are swelling in your eyes at an uncontrollably fast rate.  “But you d-didn’t do it o-on purpose, h-honey.”

His face seems to drop even more when he sees that you’re about to cry. He sits up shakily, pulling you into a big ol’ bear hug.

“Oh, buttercup, oh god, ‘m sorry. I didn’t m-mean to drag y-ya into all ‘a t-this.”

You sob into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close. It’s hard to believe that this man, this kind, gentle man, could’ve done something like this on purpose. Clyde would never hurt a fly.

From what he’s told you, which granted is very little, the line between werewolf and human for him is quite a blurry one. He seems to only be able to remember parts of what happened, and his subconscious is only there for part of the time.

Which means that he’s technically innocent, since he can’t remember nor could he control his canine impulses or instinct. As far as you’re concerned, werewolf Clyde and human Clyde are two different beings.

“I-If anyone ever f-found out ‘bout ma c-condition...”

You pull away and look up at him, holding his face in your hands. “Clyde, I-I’m not gonna turn y-you in.”

“What?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, like he’s surprised to hear your words. “Y-Yer not g-gon’...?”

Shaking your head, you swing your leg over his lap, hugging him once more while your face settles into the crook of his neck.

“No, of course not. I know you’re a good p-person, and like I said before, it’s n-not you. Your w-wolf side is not really you, Clyde, at least not entirely.”

Clyde looks down at you with an incredibly grateful expression, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tilts your head up with one of his meaty fingers, immediately pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is relatively short, just a showing of his gratitude, of his love for you. When he pulls away, you maintain eye contact.

“Okay, so most of the solid DNA evidence will have been washed away by the rain and tampered with by the elements over the past few days that the body’s been outside. Plus, they aren’t looking for wolf DNA, and even if they somehow knew, your wolf DNA wouldn’t lead to your human identity, at least I don’t think so...”

Hours and hours of watching countless true crime shows, movies, and documentaries are finally paying off.

“But, do you remember leaving anything, anything that could indicate foul play? Really search your memory.”

He puts his metaphorical thinking cap on, closing his eyes as he tries to recall anything of use from that night, but nothing comes to mind. His eyes swell with tears as they blink open and he shakes his head. “I can’t ‘member anythin’.”

“That’s okay, Clyde. They won’t find out, I promise, they won’t.” You kiss his neck. “For now, let’s just try to relax and we’ll keep an eye on the news. Will you come snuggle on the couch with me?”

Clyde smiles softly, nodding as you pull away and stand up, extending a hand to him. He takes it, standing up seconds later.  As you walk into the living room, he says your name, causing you to turn around with a slightly perplexed expression.

“Thank ya.”

You smile brightly. “I love you, Clyde.”

“I love ya, too, darlin’.”