#this'll be my last post tonight i think

[thecoolertails]

aw amy got a splash page good for her

[vowofbrotherhood]

waltz of the departed

i got inspired while listening to waltz of the departed so i thought that while waiting for season 4 of the traffic life series, i would write this. but i didn’t finish it before s4 was posted and i wanted to include stuff from last life and double life, but i ran out of ideas, so this'll have to do

it’s also my attempt at trying to be less critical and overbearing on my writing and trying to write as shittily as possible without thinking too much about it because god knows i need it (maybe). 

tramples a bit on the lore martyn established and ignores scott’s 3rd life ending though. this is my first time really publishing any writing for the public to see so... be kind please O(-(

(under the cut)

“...Tonight’s banquet is for us to celebrate the end of the world… and its new beginning,” the host declared, earning a variety of looks from the temporary guests and none of them disdained. “Is everyone having fun?” 

Applause rang throughout the room, widening the host’s grin even more. He gestured openly to the guests, a warm, gentle expression on his indistinguishable face.

“Now, before we leave for the new world, do say your last words to anyone you wish; whether it’d be regrets, promises or you only wish to share one last laughter together. But let yourself do so with peace of mind, as we gild our evening with one last entertainment. So take someone’s hand and invite them for a dance, and please… 

“Enjoy the show.”

Little did they know, the music will await them time and time again. 

—-------

No one expected their limbo to be a grand ballroom with its walls terminated with stained glass between every Greek-carved pillar, and hooks of stars and condensed supernovas hanging from the large swaying chandelier with constellations patterning the gilded dome-shaped ceiling. Where one end is stretched infinitely with no end nor doorway in sight, the other end stood a tall stage framed with gorgeous red velvet curtains and a lone microphone on a stand in the middle of it, the flooring a cream marble with intricate patterns and designs of purple threads interwoven with repeated series of green, yellow and red hearts. Nothing and everything all at once is the sight through the glass windows with no tangible view, and no one knows how this majestic room came about. 

In the air, scents of rich coin and flowers make up the ambience, only complete with waltz music special to the ears that would soon arrive in the ballroom. And arrive they would.

Though it didn’t take long for him to be followed, the poppy-adorned smoldering canary was the first to appear of course. When he arrived, the smell of heavy gunpowder just released in bulk was suddenly replaced with scents that are not sand and copper, but a calmer version of the small hill and pond of his home, and a very slow piano waltz song he hears in the back of his head that somehow helped him register his surroundings. 

He barely had enough time to really gather himself when the next to appear were the zombie and the suit-clad soldier who both went down in their own shows of last hurrahs to protect their companion or to claim their lost honor. The suit-clad soldier could only humbly apologise for taking their lives, but he proudly had no regrets. The canary had nothing but his lover to make a regret, and the zombie only cursed herself for not being able to take the king down with her.

The three of them could’ve danced together, but instead they were left wanting to be alongside their chosen companions until they arrived.

And arrived they did.

The canary and his diamond could only embrace each other without much of a dance, as the diamond could only have a millennium worth of grief and rage to let go before he allowed the canary to let go of him. And even then, their hands fragrant with flowers passed through fire were intertwined together like a last chance finally taken, as the diamond took the canary’s other hand, placed it on his hip and smiled at him softly, before burying his face in the canary’s neck as they slow danced in their own little lonely corner in the hall, unbothered by the rest of the crowd.

Much to the diamond’s surprise, the canary wasn’t as clumsy as he had expected him to be, and for a moment, the two of them could dream they were hidden back in their hillside again, surrounded by the home they always pictured it to be.

The king and his hand died in each other’s hands, and so they remain in each other’s hands even after the music declared a medium waltz fitting of the orchestra of a royal ball for a king much nobler than he. But they knew within a glance they were listening to the same music – if only the hand heard violins slightly more discordant than the king’s music – and thus they danced with laughs as boisterous as a snowstorm. Sooner or later, the king’s reddened army would join them in their circle, and hugs and muttered phrases of ‘you did well’ and promises to rule the sun one day shared before they would waltz with one another in turns or even as a group.

None questioned if the king and his hand stayed with each other far longer than they did with anyone else, or their hands never seemed to let go, even with the dried blood and the cracked ax on the hand's back still clung by the memory of a cold ritual and ice formed on the edges, firm declarations of war.

The traitor would watch the army from afar, afraid or unworthy to approach them, his every excuse falling flat on his still tongue. Memories of a clock aches his soul as if the clock hands themselves were stabbing his chest, and yet he was the one who played his part to total imperfection; feelings of frustration and remorse swirling in his chest, undecided even when the time-master doesn’t seem to notice him – or purposely ignores him.

Should he have expected betrayal when he becomes the betrayer himself?

He approaches no one for a dance, until the betrayed blaze-born with no one to tango with approaches him. The traitor wishes he could have done something different, the betrayed, seeing memories of unfamiliar, oppressive fire and arrows making an example of him, told him it was inevitable – such as the nature of the time-master. 

As the time-master took the zombie by the hand, with no tears nor laughter, with only a heavy silence to guide where their feet would step across the tiles, the music faint on their ears. The tension like a fortress when they kept their distance a little from the others, and though no critical words were exchanged save for a scrutinising gaze from the zombie, their hands remained glued to the other as they spun and twirled along the marble.

But eventually, the zombie escaped a sigh that shattered the silence upon the music, and she gave a faint smile, telling the time-master he’s done good. The time-master could only take in the statement with a smile of his own.

The wolf could only fidget his finger where phantoms of a warm, soothing metal carved with a distant name once sat, him having lost it in his final chase. He could only lean back out of sight from the rest to watch the rest, having no hand to take, with only losing himself in fuzzy memories of a betrothed of pink locks and love burned and shriveled up in the wake of the bloodlust. Until a few furred friends nuzzled up against his leg, somberly mourning those left behind without an owner in the desert, and they take up a quiet spot away from the crowd to share howls and twirls around each other, for a wolf never strays far from his pack.

The ballroom was not free of blood spatters however – or so the watcher thought, when he looked down to see his hands still bright red and dripping with copper, when he dropped to his knees in front of his beholden whispering apologies repeatedly as if it mattered to the music in his ears… until his beholden – his obligation – suddenly smiles at him with earnesty. He crouched down, and his scarred, charred hands unfolded the watcher’s clenched ones. The red was still there, but his beholden still held onto his hands, his own palms soaked with that red – that red that belonged to him – that same red that tied the blood oath to him – and pulled him up to his feet. 

They won together, the obligation cackled, as he pulled the watcher into a chaotic dance to the frantic yet harmonic music of violin and brass instruments, befitting of chaos on a battlefield and instigation from dynamite and unpunished anarchy. It didn’t take too long for the watcher to stop staggering over his feet, and eventually let the red wash over him. It did not disappear, for he was the first to shed blood, and was the first to laugh as he did so, and soon he and his indebted were showered with crimson iron, their grins wide as they spun around each other stupidly.

Though no one sees the same red light washing over them, the bitterness dissipates from the watcher’s tongue as they twirled, spun and dipped each other in a maddening waltz, as if they were back in the cactus ring without being spectated by ghosts clamoring for the final spill of blood.

Not more than a few words were exchanged between those who decided to stick together even in moments clouded by uncontrolled bloodlust, only the reality of the game – fun, bloody, unruly, desperate, unpredictable, tragic – settling deep into each and every one of them even if they don’t realize it at first. The music that plays for each and every one of them, whether it helps or not, could only make it kinder, but one way or another it would dawn upon them a game of last one standing was more than it really is.

Whether it meant that it was not a game to win, or where no beautiful homes last forever, whatever it means for them… it was not in the right of anyone else to decide how they would handle this truth moving forward.

Especially when the vinyl is looped, and the guests, only leaving with vague and intangible memories of a waltz, would be called away to play again. If some of them screamed in defiance towards the gravity of their fate, or laughed if only to leave a last encore memory for their partner in the next life, it was not in the right of anyone else to tell that story.

[mintedwitcher]

Watched a video review of A Good Man Goes to War by Harbo Wholmes earlier tonight and I wanted to touch on just a couple of the points he made in his video. (It's a fantastic video, highly recommend it, the link is here.)

So, this'll be a long one but bear with me. (I have many many thoughts about Eleven in general and this episode in particular, this post is really only half of what I want to say about it, since I'm trying to stay On Topic here.)

Everyone who has watched Eleven's run is most likely familiar with AGMGTW. It's the pinnacle episode of season 6, and it has... a Lot happening in it.

Firstly, we find the Doctor collecting "debtors"; aliens that he's saved over time and who owe a debt to him. This, at first, seems at odds with the Doctor's whole persona. He doesn't save people so that he's owed favours later, he does it to be kind, because it's the right thing to do, because they need saving and he can do it, so why not? Harbo shares his thoughts on this in his video, but my take on it is that the Doctor hasn't been taking on debts at all. I think it's less of a demanding contract and more of a case where these people he saved have crafted their own debts to him.

They owe him, not because he said they do, but because they know that without him, they would've died. So when he comes to call and ask for their help in saving his best friend, they agree to help, because he saved them once, the least they can do is return the favour.

Next, Harbo talks about how the narrative surrounding the Doctor seems to flip back and forth between praise and condemnation. I agree, however, I think it's less the narrative as an overarching theme and more the Doctor vs the people who know him.

The Doctor is waging war, he's on a revenge mission as well as a rescue mission. The Kovarian chapter has stolen his best friend out from under his nose, they've infiltrated his TARDIS, they've humiliated him. This is personal, on a level that other villains so far haven't quite reached. So, he views himself as being righteous, being the deadly and dangerous war hero. He views himself as doing the right thing. The praise, the fanfare, all of that, that is him. That is the Doctor believing wholeheartedly that he is right, and that he is delivering justice.

The longer the episode goes on, the more we see of this angle. He's proud of his reputation, he mocks the soldiers at Demon's Run. He makes jokes, he brags, he taunts, and he knows that he is the most dangerous man in the room, because all of these people have heard of him. They know about him, they know who he is, what he's done. They're afraid of him, and he mercilessly uses that fear against them. He turns out the lights to confuse them, he dresses like a monk to disorient them, and he taunts them through the loudspeaker as the soldiers begin to turn against the Headless Monks.

This is his god complex at play. He's watching the chaos and pulling the strings and he is loving every minute of it, because the more unsettled his enemies become, the easier it is for him to win.

He emphasises this again later with his confrontation of Colonel Manton. His speech in that scene starts fairly lighthearted, he's having a joke, he's making fun. "I want you to tell your men to run away." He's toying with the colonel. As he continues, he grows angrier, until he's blatantly threatening to turn this man into an example of his prowess. "When people come to you and ask you if trying to get to me through the people I love is in any way a good idea, I want you to tell them your name." That line is so powerful, and the way he forcibly reigns himself back in again is terrifying. Because that last part is spoken so nicely. Almost sweetly. He's smiling, it's a game again.

Like I said. God complex.

But, where Ten leaned into his complex (Waters of Mars -> End of Time pt 2), Eleven hides from his.

When River finally joins the fray after the loss of Melody, Eleven is furious. He's raging, he's vengeful. He's been bested again, humiliated again, and he's lashing out. When River condemns him, he rejects it entirely. "This wasn't me! This wasn't my fault!" He says, hurt and offended that River could even think such a thing let alone say it out loud. But River is right. "This was all you, all of it."

Eleven has based himself, modelled himself for so long on being the 'raggedy Doctor' that Amelia Pond met in her garden when she was seven years old. He thinks of himself as her hero, her protector, her guardian angel. He can't tolerate the thought that anyone would go this far to get rid of him, because he thinks he's right. He thinks he's justified. So he rejects the possibility of responsibility, because it can't be his fault that Amy and Rory's baby is gone, it can't be his fault that these people have died. Look at what he's done to save them! Look what lengths he went to already to save Amy! He killed a Cyber legion, he called on friends and allies to fight with him (for him). He's a good man, he is a good man, look at what he's done!

But look what has been done in fear of him. Amy and Rory's baby is gone, stolen to be crafted into the perfect assassin to kill the Doctor. People have died, serving him or serving a faction of the Papal Mainframe dedicated to killing him. Allies and friends have died in his name. What sort of a good man inspires something like this? What sort of a good man could even look at this and not be disgusted by it? Ashamed of it, even?

It's not that the Doctor's characterisation is inconsistent, it's that we as the audience are seeing two separate perceptions of it. We see the Doctor as he sees himself and how Amy sees him - heroic, magnanimous, determined - and we see the Doctor as his enemies and allies see him - dangerous, vengeful, and angry.

It is an interesting conflict within the episode itself, where we're being shown two very different perceptions of a character we've known for quite a while now. Narratively, it's a fantastic concept and it's executed brilliantly. It is without a doubt one of the standout episodes of Matt Smith's run as the Doctor, and it perfectly encapsulates the fluid morality of the character.

[twilight-resonance]

French Horn

Doing some brief journaling tonight so that I'm not tempted to tomorrow. If I've got it all out of my system, I'll be more able to work. Which, there's plenty of that needs doing. This'll be a more typical sort of journal post; the plan is to, if I can write it quick enough, do another prompt-post as well from that collection I gathered a while back. Just for the practices. For the processing.

Yesterday was good - was great, really. It was the opening day to FalJL this year, and it went so. well. We actually had players, for one - almost fifteen! - which it's been an actual half-decade since there've been. All great players too, and a good group - just the right balance of silly and serious, of experienced and new, and all personalities and temperaments that meshed well together. Came back feeling - triumphant's a word, I suppose, but gentler than that. If triumph is a trumpet, this was more a french horn. There was more, but that's for elsewhere and elsetime.

There's plenty around the beginning of the school year and all of the various school LARPs chugging along... but that's for elsewhere and elsetime too, I think. It feels too fragile to speak of just yet, or just here. In that white-knuckling it sense. But it's good, so far. So far, so good.

Other parts of the school year. I've been missing Hearthsnail a lot. Even though we've technically had evenings together... I don't know. We've both just been so busy with extra tasks - me with all the work that needs doing for the beginning of the season, him with his class and with department chair meetings and mentoring other teachers and such - it feels like we haven't really seen each other in a few weeks. We took some time the last couple weeks to try to remedy that some, and it's been nice. Not... in a big way, just. Consciously spending the time together in the evenings - deliberately might be a better work. Focusing on each other, not just existing. That's helped. Tonight was nice, and last night was nice. I miss him still, but we find the time where we can.

(Part of why I want to get this written - so I can go to bed. For the sleep, yes, but for him too.)

Got a weighted blanket, per recommendation of my therapist. So far it's... fine? I can't tell how much it might or might not actually be helping. The reasons for it were various; the easiest to explain is that, the last few years, I've been sleeping a lot more than I want or need to on days off - not because I'm tired, but because I want snuggles. Or burrowing. And one of the thoughts was, it might help get more burrow per sleep. Haven't been using it with Hearthsnail bed because the bed is too small, but I've been using it once he leaves for the day. Or during the day on the couch. The big one I'm curious to try is days when my nervous system is all haywire, but haven't had an opportunity for that.

(Although - our new bed is coming in a couple days! The frame, anyway - we still need to order a bigger mattress and bedsheets. It's exciting, though.)

Been on a Florence + the Machine kick recently. Don't know why. I've never really listened to her before, save incidentally; but there were some songs from her on the various Nyiss playlists that exist, and I was goin' through it on that a few weeks ago, and it sort of flowed over from that. It's been scratching something in me, though, so I don't mind. It's good music, anyway.

So it goes. So it ever goes. I'm going to move over to the journal prompt post, now; more then, and another time.

[bthump]

A positive aspect of this chapter is that Miura's digital art seems to be getting better.

Idk enough about art to notice any subtle nuances but if you’ve noticed some improvement then awesome, I’ll take it and hope that trend continues!

another batch of asks and replies

@pandawarriors said: I keep seeing people saying how they hate the kids, I guess I’m the only one who likes them. Sure, Isidro is kind of imature, but it’s not to the point of being annoying, well at least for me that is. I do agree that the whole fanatasia thing isn’t really for me. I kinda wish the story would have continued with the same vibe that the Golden Age had. I wonder if it’s the kids characters that people hate or if it’s the fact that they kinda symbolize how Berserk changed.

pandawarriors said: I really think that they wouldn’t be hated as much if they had been introduced to the story back during the Golden Age arc.

Speaking for myself I already hate most fictional children and the style of humour these specific ones bring out in the current story lol so I can tell you for sure that I wouldn’t have liked them in the Golden Age either. I’m glad you enjoy them though, it must make the story a lot more entertaining at times.

And tbf you are right that they’re pretty emblematic of other things I personally dislike about current Berserk, such as the lighter tone and aspects of Guts’ character development, so that’s also a factor for me.

But I do think it’s pretty reasonable to dislike the kid characters. The greatest sin a fictional character can commit imo is making the story less fun to read, and the kids certainly do that for me and many others.

Anon 2: I straight up scrolled past the Isidro filler bc I wanted to have mercy on my eyes and brain. Also, I really want to see at least one character in Berserk die right now. And hopefully it's Isidro and he gets cut in half.

Why couldn't it be u writing Berserk 😢

lmao if Miura killed off Isidro I’d be the first to celebrate, but I don’t have high hopes. But it’d be nice. Also ty lol 💖

Anon 3: i think this entire isidro/schierke filler cringe is there to prepare us for the worst cringe: werebaby shifting into naked griffith in the middle of a family reunion, which is somehow going to be made worse by the terrible art style berserk has got going on.

also im sorry for all the negativity in your asks queen, it's just everyone's losing it. but i guess we got each other and the golden age trio, which i hope we can rescue from whatever basement miura's torturing them in.

Frankly the best evidence for literal werebaby is that it would make it easy for Miura to shoehorn in more Guts staring at naked Griffith lmao so that’s definitely gonna happen if werebaby real. It’s an awkward silver lining but I’m not gonna say no to it.

and lol yeah I’m feeling pretty negative too so like, I don’t mind getting disappointed asks bc misery loves company. but in those tags I wanted to warn ppl in case they want to avoid negativity.

[sasuga-joka]

Person: Oh? You take medication for your mental illness? Well, my father takes medication for his mental illness and he basically has to live on them. It isn't good to have to rely on pills all your life, I hope you actually go to a psychiatrist and get therapy so you don't turn out the same.

Me: That's because we Do Need this medication to function as basic human beings because our brains physically cannot produce the chemicals to do so, Shelley. I would not be able to even have the ability to go to therapy if I don't take my medication, you utter Buffoon. I hope your father hates you.

[jackies-wearing-khakis]

Marriage and Murder Pt. 1 (Shelby!Reader)

a/n: I'm a bit disappointed I had to post this in two parts, but alas, the original one-shot was too long for Tumblr.

summary: Things get progressively darker as you try to survive Tommy and Grace's wedding night.

words: 3101

warnings: Themes of drinking and sexual assault.

 "(y/n), for fuck's sake, hurry up!" Polly shouted from the betting room. She, Ada, Finn, John, and Esme were dressed in formal clothes, waiting for you to get ready.

  "Five minutes, Pol!" you called from your bedroom.

  "I swear to God," your aunt said under her breath as she checked her watch. "It's her own brother's wedding and she's decided to take her sweet time."

  "What's taking her so long anyway?" Finn asked, bored to death.

  "She probably looks ugly as hell and can't stand to face it," John whispered, earning a chuckle from Finn and a smack to the back of the head from Ada. 

  "I don't care 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 she's doing, if that girl's not down here soon we're leaving without her." Polly huffed.

  What Polly and the others didn't understand was that you were by 𝘯𝘰 means taking your sweet time. If anything, you were practically tripping over yourself to try and find a dress to wear to Tommy and Grace's wedding. You'd accidentally ripped the dress you were supposed to wear the night before when you'd gotten your arm stuck in one of the sleeves. Now, you were caught between a rock and a hard place; go downstairs and face humiliation, or stay in your room and face Polly. You could tell today was going to be stressful.

  You were legitimately considering cutting off the sleeves of your dress entirely when Polly came bursting into the room without warning.

  "Pol, wait!" you shouted, instinctively holding your arms in front of your head for self-defense.

  "I don't give a shit if you're ready or not, we're going," Polly growled. She grabbed your arm, unknowingly pulling at the rip in your dress. With one strong yank, your aunt had doubled the size of the tear. The two of you froze in shock at the damaged material.

  "𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴, (y/n)," Polly muttered.

  "I know, it's awful." you sighed.

  As you stood there, Finn peeked his head into your room. Immediately, he saw your dress and gasped.

  "𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, (y/n)." Finn chuckled. "What the hell did you do?"

  "Go away!" you shouted angrily. You grabbed one of your shoes and chucked it at your brother, hitting him in the shoulder. He stumbled out of the room laughing.

  You threw yourself face-first onto your bed in utter despair, sighing dramatically.

  "Oh, Pol, this'll be the death of me," you whined, your voice muffled by the covers. Your aunt rolled her eyes as she lit a cigarette.

  "Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Polly spoke. "We'll figure something out."

  It wasn't long before Ada and Esme had made their way upstairs and into your room. The four of you sat in silence, quietly brainstorming. Suddenly, Esme stood up.

  "I've got a dress that might work," she said, and immediately rushed to go fetch it. Your face lit up, and you excitedly hopped off your bed to go with your sister-in-law. Ada and Polly exchanged glances.

  You followed Esme into her and John's old room, where she was digging through her closet.

  "Now, (y/n), you're a bit smaller than I am, so hopefully this won't look too awkward on you," Esme said, tossing clothes in every direction.      

  "Now, if only I could find the damn thing."

  "What's it look like?" you asked.

  "See for yourself," Esme responded, pulling out a green shapeless dress with beaded lace embroidery.

  You gawked at the beauty of the thing; it was an excellent balance of elegance and youth. Not too modest, not too sexy; it was superbly tasteful.

 "Oh my God, Esme, it's perfect." you breathed. 

  "Hurry up and try it on!" she urged, pushing the dress into your arms. With that, she rushed out of her room.

  To your relief, the dress fit perfectly. You barely had any time to show it off to the others before Polly had rushed everyone out of the house and into the cramped car, practically dragging you all by the wrists. 

  The five of you slipped into the chapel quietly as you could. Tommy gave you all dirty looks as you scooted into the pews one by one. 

  "Where the fuck've you been?" Arthur whispered to Polly as she sat down next to him.

  "There was a complication," Polly answered. "Nothing worth worrying about now."

  "Complication my arse. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 one took forever to get changed." John scoffed, pointing his thumb towards you.

  "It wasn't my fault, the dress ripped!" you whined. 

  "It was 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 your fault, (y/n)," Finn added smugly.

  "I swear to God if you three don't 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘱 I'll drag you all home by the ears." Polly threatened under her breath. Nobody had anything to say about your dress after that.

  John grumbled as Grace entered the chapel.

  "Here come the fucking cavalry, late as usual." he griped.

  "I don't get it, why's everyone hate them?" you asked in a whisper.

  "Well, first of all, they weren't supposed to wear their uniforms. Just goes to show they're disrespectful bastards." John whispered back.

  "𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺? That's all it is?" you questioned.

  John sighed as he tried to find the right words for the situation.

  "Listen, (y/n), just stay away from them. Half those men are self-righteous pricks who'll take advantage of you if you give 'em the chance," he warned.

 "Hush." Esme chimed in, squeezing John's hand. "They're exchanging vows."

  Your gaze turned to the men in red uniform as Tommy and Grace stood at the altar. You accidentally locked eyes with a boy who couldn't have been older than twenty. Not sure what to do, you smiled politely at him. To your surprise, he smiled back.

   Your exchange was cut off by the sound of Jeremiah Jesus's voice filling the room.

  "I now pronounce you man and wife." he declared, and everyone in the chapel applauded as Tommy and Grace shared a kiss. You couldn't help but feel a pang of pride as you watched your brother smile at his new wife. There was something magical about the way he was able to just 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 in her presence, especially since you couldn't think of another day Tommy wasn't trying to take over Birmingham.

  𝘖𝘩, 𝘛𝘰𝘮, you thought wistfully, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘺���𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?

   Unfortunately, the warmth of the wedding ceremony quickly faded as everyone gathered outside for the family photo. Nearly ten minutes went by as the Shelby clan struggled to organize themselves into a tight group.

   You initially tried to stand behind Polly and Arthur to be near the other women, but that plan quickly failed when you realized you were too short to stand behind either of them. It was a tremendous effort to try to force yourself in between them, and the result left you in a painfully awkward position where you were left standing sideways. The ultimate solution was to have you stand with John's children; you were mortified.

  "Christ, I look like a 𝘬𝘪𝘥," you whined, showing the picture to Finn. The two of you sat together at the base of the stairs in Tommy's house, trying your best to avoid the crowds of people wandering the halls..

  "It's not that big a deal," he said plainly, taking the picture in his hands. "Nobody really cares."

  "It's a big deal to me." you mumbled.

   You could see John and Arthur approaching from a distance. By the looks of it, they'd already gotten their hands on some champagne.

  "Finn. Tommy wants a meeting in the kitchen." Arthur spoke as he passed by.

  "I should probably go with him." Finn sighed as he stood up.

  "Wait, take me with you!" you pleaded, grabbing onto his arm. "I've got nobody else to talk to."

  Finn quickly leaned over the stairs to check if Arthur and John had gone. Once he saw the coast was clear, he turned back to you.

  "Fine. But you shouldn't say anything," he advised.

  "Wasn't planning on it."

  You and Finn had assumed the meeting would be family only, but as you snuck your way into the kitchen you were surprised to find a swarm of Blinders men crowding the room. You instinctively stuck close to your brother, trying your best to avoid bumping into anyone. The two of you slowly hovered towards the center of the room, where the immediate family gathered. There Tommy stood in the midst of it all with a cigar in his hands. 

   "Right. Today is my wedding day." he began, and the room fell silent.

   "Yeah, and you said there'd be no uniforms, Tom." John interrupted, and a few people murmured in agreement.

  "In spite of there being bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." Tommy continued, ignoring John's comment. "For Grace's sake, nothing will go wrong today."

   Tommy began circling the room as he spoke, making sure to lock eyes with every man present.

  "And if any of you fuckers do 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 to embarrass her, kin, cousins, your kids, your horses, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.."

  Just as he was about to finish his sentence, Tommy noticed you standing there next to Finn. He froze for a moment, then furrowed his brows. You cursed under your breath.

  "What are you doing here?" Tommy asked, but it felt more like an accusation.

   You realized every man in the room had their eyes on you. You shifted uncomfortably.

  "It's a family meeting, isn't it?" you grumbled. "Last I checked I was a Shelby."

   Tommy sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes in annoyance.

  "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? I'm glad you're here because there's something I should say." he began. You crossed your arms defensively.

  "You've been wild these past few months, (y/n), don't think I haven't noticed."

  "So?" you scoffed.

  "𝘚𝘰, I won't have any of it tonight. I swear, if I find out you've been drinking, flirting, or doing 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨  that might damage this family's reputation, I assure you that you'll live to regret it. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥?"

  You didn't know how to feel about Tommy's words. In a way, he was right; you'd been drinking more than usual as of late, not to mention fooling around with some of the boys you were going to school with. You didn't understand why that was such a big deal though, especially since you were a saint compared to your brothers. Really, the whole thing seemed unfair.

  "Yeah, I understand." you finally answered. "I'll just spend the night boring myself to death while you boys do whatever you want." 

  "That's the spirit." he shot back.

  "Tommy, what about snow?" Isiah asked from across the room. You silently thanked him for taking the attention off you.

  "There'll be no cocaine," Tommy answered sternly. A few men in the room sighed.

  Tommy took the opportunity to get back to his speech.

  "No sport. No racing. No sucking the petrol out of their cars. You give them 𝘯𝘰 excuses to look down their noses."

  The room was uneasy. Nobody was sure what to think as Tommy stood there, almost desperately trying to talk sense into his men.

  "But the main thing is, you fuckers.." he began.

  "Why are you mad at 𝘶𝘴, Tom?" Finn mumbled.

  "..in spite of provocation from the cavalry.."

  Tommy walked along the line of men standing around him, getting close to Arthur, then John, then Finn, then finally you.

  "..no fighting. 𝘕𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨!" 

  And with that, everyone was sent out of the kitchen.

  The party started slow, and you found yourself wandering around the house aimlessly with nothing to do. Everywhere you went people were already drinking, and a part of you wanted nothing more than to join them. The other, more sensible part remembered Tommy's warning and decided to avoid alcohol for the night. As much as you wanted to piss him off and indulge yourself, you knew getting drunk would only prove that you were irresponsible. 

  Dinner in the great hall was an absolute disaster. You sat between Finn and Ada, who were both caught up in their own conversations. You were starving, and Tommy and Grace had been taking a suspiciously long amount of time to get ready. Even after they'd finally come downstairs, Arthur had to get through his speech before anyone could eat.

  "Now, I'm not one for speeches." Arthur began. The poor man looked like a deer trapped in headlights.

  "Sing then!" John shouted. Esme grabbed his arm wearily.

  "I've got a speech written down here. but it's not everything I want to say." Arthur droned on. You buried your head in your hands.

  "Arthur, just read what we've written down," Tommy said softly.

  "I will, Tom. But first, a few words from the heart." 

  Arthur gently placed the small piece of paper into one of his pockets, then cleared his throat.

   "𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬." Tommy breathed.

   "I'd just like to say that my brother helped me survive hard times. Trouble in my head.."

  As Arthur gave his speech, you noticed Polly staring at a man who sat opposite her. He was older than she was and wore a dark suit that matched his serious expression.

  "Who's that?" You leaned over and whispered to Ada.

  "Kaledin something," she whispered back. "Don't bother talking politics with him, I've already tried."

  Unlike Ada, you weren't interested in having political debates with strangers. Still, there was an air of mystery surrounding the man. Something about him made it impossible to look away, even when he met your eyes with his. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

  Arthur's trainwreck of a speech was eventually cut short by Tommy. You felt bad for your eldest brother, but you were desperate to eat. Polly gave you a disapproving look as you scarfed down your food, but you didn't care; you were too hungry to act like a lady.

  An hour had passed since the food was served, and by then everyone had made their way into the ballroom.

  John and Arthur had set up a boxing area outside with Tommy's reluctant permission. After hovering around Polly for nearly half an hour, you finally gave in and went outside to watch the fights.  

  You were used to seeing your brothers fight, so not much could faze you in the boxing ring. Tonight was different, though. The men had such anger in them as they landed their punches. It was almost disturbing to watch Finn get knocked into the ground by a man in a red uniform.

  "Gruesome, isn't it?" A voice asked from behind you. You turned around to face the very same cavalry boy you'd locked eyes within the chapel. Only now, he was standing a mere foot away from you and the two of you were practically alone.

   "William. Fraser." the young man said, extending his hand.

  You took his hand in yours and shook it. The dim light from the boxing ring illuminated your faces, and you were able to get good looks at each other. To your excitement, not only was he young, he was 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦.

  "(y/n). Lee." you introduced yourself, lying through your teeth. You were done being a Shelby today.

  "Mm. I thought you were a gypsy." William spoke. You raised your eyebrows in amusement.

  "Really? How could you tell?" you asked.

 "It's the dress. Very... 𝘣𝘰𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯," he replied.

 "It was a gift, it's not mine," you assured, flattening the dress out. You suddenly felt a pang of self-consciousness.

  "Oh, well it suits you well enough." And with that, William placed his hand on your waist. 

   "What are you doing?" you asked, chuckling nervously. 

  "Enjoying myself."

  He slowly started to pull you into a kiss when you noticed Finn in the boxing ring. Another one of the cavalry boys had landed a particularly heavy blow onto his gut, and he fell onto the ground in defeat. You pushed William away to watch the scene.

  "You know him?" William asked.

  "He's my brother," you responded quietly, not taking eyes off Finn.

  "He fights well enough for a boy his size, I didn't expect him to last as long as he did." William retorted.

  "He's really good, actually. Likes it a lot, too," you said, relaxing as you saw Finn get up and shake his opponent's hand.

  William took the opportunity to pick up where you left off and started to wrap his arms around your waist. You hesitated and stepped back.

  "Wait, we shouldn't. Not in front of them." you gestured towards the crowds of people who were watching the fights.

  "Good point." the young man hummed into your neck.

  You lead William to a fairly secluded area of the gardens. There was a small, wooden bench that was nestled in between some of the bushes that lined the back wall of Tommy's mansion. The two of you sat together; there was an uncomfortable sexual tension between you.

  William kissed you slowly as his hands wandered around your torso. You kept trying to cut him off, but he was persistent. If you would grab his arm, he would use the other one to pull you closer. If you turned away, he would kiss your neck. 

  "William I don't think we should do this," you whispered.

  "Don't worry, love. nobody's around. You won't get in trouble." he assured.

  "𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, just stop." you pleaded.

  "Relax, I promise I'll make it worth your while.

  With that, you'd had enough. You started smacking your palm against his shoulder, and he finally separated. 

  "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵? I thought you wanted this!" William snapped.

  "Why didn't you stop?" you asked him with a hurt look on your face. "I was 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 you to stop!"

   "𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯, don't act like you didn't want it. You took me out here for a reason." he countered.

  "I didn't think it would happen so fast!" you shouted.

 William huffed, stood up, then brushed himself off.

  "𝘎𝘺𝘱𝘴𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩." he spat, then walked away.

  "What the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 did you call me?" you shot back. "Do you even know who the 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 I am?"

   William froze in place and turned around. He gave you a dark look as he lit a cigarette. The red glow of the tiny embers illuminated his face.

  "My name is (y/n) 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 Shelby." you hissed, and William's expression changed. 

  "You're related to the groom?" he realized.

  "I'm his sister," you spat.

  The young man sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. 

  "𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵.. I had no idea. Let me make it up to you." he began, but you were already leaving.

  "𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶." you scoffed as you passed him. 

You made your way back to the ballroom, leaving William standing there alone.

 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, you thought, heading straight for a bottle of wine.

[winterscaptain]

tali answers stuff!

okay part 2!! this'll be my last one for tonight and it should take us to the end of last week as far as catchup goes!

in here i have asks from:

💙anon, 🥂anon, E (🧡) anon, @mad-girl-without-a-box, 📚anon, @doctorstethoscope, @averyhotchner, and @brittanymcsharry.

oh my goodness!! that's so cute!! there's something about those names that just warms my heart together.

it IS!! i wanted to write something taht was representative of our journey, together, so far. we've all come on this ride!! and this story is yours to build in your head as much as it is mine to share what's in my head!! i'm so glad you enjoyed meraki, my love! ♥️

this WARMED my HEART!! thank you E!! i'm so sorry it took me so long to get back to you. this is so so sweet and i thank you for sharing your thoughts with me <3

babe i am LIVING for this live-action update thing you had going on last weekend. thank you so much for sharing with me!! love you bunches!

okay this is a whole mood like?? rings makes me SOB dude ask aimz. i was CRYING like a BABY when i wrote it.

i have a fic in the works right now that takes place right after grayson hotchner is born!! aaron as a grandpa already sent me to tears so i'll warn you when i post it lmao

GOOD!! i'm so glad :)

you are AMAZING thank you i love you so much you are so important to me!!

okay avery you have galaxy brain how do you do it omg okay so

YES we absolutely will and i will also be That Guy and ask you to throw it in the google form so i don't forget about it and lose it forever. jess is super important to the both of them and i think she has a "well, yeah, i thought that was clear?" reaction that just tells mom and aaron how gross and obvious they really are

and of course there's the "jesus h FINALLY" response, of course.

i live to serve, what can i say.

(there's more where that came from too, lmao just you wait)

[yomiurinikei]

ik u all are probably tired of this but. i'm getting burnt out (i've also been doing a tom of hcs on another-dra-anew, go look at those) so this'll probably be the last hc post on here for tonight!

~*~ Beta syobai/Canon yuri!

•jasper this one is for u. it's u x ur husband

•beta syobai is vv persistent in his "i am ur big brother now and i care abt u" and while he won't make yuri hang out with him or anything, he will Not let yuri deal with his issues by himself

•yuri like. falls or smthn and syobai goes to help him - yuri starts screeching abt how he doesn't want a filthy male to help him

•syobai just goes "i know, but i'm still gonna help u anyways" before. handing yuri the last of his things and waving

•usually people will just. not help yuri without him having to tell them to stop, and,, it's nice to actually get some help for once

•slowly but surely, syobai wears down yuri

•and after that it just snowballs into dating!!

•yuri tries talking abt how like. some guy is really frustrating him and expects syobai to be all "oh ur just over reacting :/" but syobai just frowns and asks who it is so he can get them to stop

•yuri: and he just would not leave me alone!!!

syobai, already grabbing a blanket for better cuddling: oh my god, what does he think he's doing?

•unlike with beta yuri, syobai like. never ever does anything space-related unless yuri wants to talk abt it

•he really encourages yuri to explore other things that interest him, instead of what his parents want him to do

•aka: hey yuri ever gone swimming :)

•yuri goes swimming!!! feat. he used a floatie and entertains himself by throwing things for syobai to go dive for

•he ends up having fun! and syobai is delighted to have found someone who

will vibe in the water with him

•syobai starts almost constantly vibing in a star-patterned jacket and yuri almost melts

•oh!! syobai definitely gets yuri to hang with the rest of beta smart gang, which yuri has a lot of fun with!!!

•syobai also helps yuri further get over his fear of men by slowly introducing him to the beta classes boys

•so yuri makes friends! he still likes syobai the best tho

•oh so. sometimes people will b vv uncomfortably flirty towards yuri who's very openly upset

•so syobai has turned it into a game!

•now yuri has fun leading people on as much as possible before syobai swoops in and is all "hi babe :)"

•if anyone tries to get violent bc "i was led on!!!" theres immediately a swarm of people there to. calm them down

•yuri knows how to braid hair and syobai has hair that's just long enough to be braided, so now it's a comfort thing for yuri, just braiding hair in general reminds him of syobai

[imgonnabehonest]

[EDIT: AUDIO TRANSCRIPTION] Personal log 08 03 22. Oh, well that's something to talk about now, too. Huh, okay. So, I had to look up the format for the introduction to do this because- one (1), as you may have noticed, this is a video; not a text post. And two, the last post I made was in April, uhh- so not that long ago. I was working at L'Arte already, okay. It's terrible, thank you for asking, planning to quit very soon. Actually planned to tell them I was planning to quit tonight. Didn't, maybe we'll do that tomorrow. We'll see, it'll come up. I'm giving them more than two weeks anyway, so I can really- I'm being nice.

Um, let's see. Making this a video post because my phone is fucked. There have been green lines going down just slightly to the right of the middle. Um, actually right where where my right eye- the side with more hair- is now, two giant lines. Uh, and also touch sensitivity over there is not great, so typing is a pain in the ass. Hence the video. Alright, I guess there's not much to report, L'Arte sucks, I'm planning to quit very soon. And will take downtime between jobs if I can have it, because I haven't had a vacation since December. Which I mean yeah, Tara will tell you she fucking worked 180 days in a row or whatever once, I don't care. That's her. Good for her. I don't want to do that. That's the fucking reason I'm quitting L'Arte in the first place, that's not me, I don't want to.

And um, I really hate talking I usually write these out for a reason. I don't want to make this a long video because those are annoying to upload. Maybe I'll transcribe this at some point. Could've just written it out on my computer, that would've been a smart move. But I couldn't write it out on my computer because I was watching Malcolm in the Middle. So obviously, what made sense was for me to stop watching so I could record this video of it.

Oh, anyway, so the real reason I wanted to make the post, um, I got real excited because I felt like I ate a lot today, like consistently, at good times throughout the day. Then I went through and I thought about what I ate and I came to how many calories that was and I looked up how many calories I should be eating just to maintain my current weight and I was about 150 short. I don't feel hungry. Um, I'm comfortable saying this stuff out loud because Mom and Dad are sleeping together again, that's really fucked up to think about. I want out of this fucking house.

And, Danny is- it's weird calling him Danny when he's not here. Even though it's really just me. No one sees this blog. I might show him eventually. Because you know, he's not like fucking some people who'll just go through it and then bring shit up and not even tell me where it's coming from. God, I can't believe I dealt with that for that long. Anyway- ooh, there's no delete on this. that's interesting, I've been uh, looking around at therapists a little more too. I need that, I've been in real bad shape lately. Probably looking at some kind of medication because, I don't know, fucking anxi- temper. I throw fucking tantrums at every little thing. And I don't know, I'm a fucking adult, I shouldn't do that. So thanks for listening I guess, we'll see if I can even upload this. Maybe this'll get trimmed and it'll be like six videos, I don't know. Thank you, good night.