#i put a lot of stock into ambition

[she-anemone]

I live in a haze. months go by and by, and nothing changes. how could I tell one day from another. it all bleeds together. the division of time is fake anyway. it's all one long stretch, just spaced out by going to bed. everything is. everything always is.

[meowmeowmessi]

i remember reading this one piece that said paredes apparently used to get into confrontations with other psg teammates over messi and their treatment of him 😭😭. i wouldn't wish psg on anyway but honestly i'd rather he come back because if he comes back then leo's likely to stay and HEAR ME OUT!!! bassa's out while laporta's there and as much as i'd love premier league, it doesn't seem likely esp since he gave his all for the wc and is now lowkey injured like he was after the copa :( the other options are ass as hell. so it's either retirement or psg, pick your poison 💀. i also read that mbappe's prob leaving this summer, though that was the athletic so a tad more reliable. not saying this shadily, just in the vein of psg transfers 😭

inside my askbox there are two wolves (anons):

[tarotwithavi]

What will draw your future spouse to you?

1-2-3

Masterlist

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How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Kindly ask your spirit guides to show you the right pile for yourself and then open your eyes. Whichever pile catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Pile 1

Hey pile 1! I'm getting that you guys don't really allow negative feedback from people to get to you and you move on from things really easily. You are not afraid to let go of things. I am also getting that you really try to evolve yourself and let go of the old habits that do not serve you anymore. You guys are also very in tune with your emotions and you are not afraid to be vulnerable. If something hurts you , you are not afraid to talk about it to the person who did that rather than locking your emotions away and blaming yourself. You guys really know how to invest your money in the right place. You guys might be into saving or you don't spend money impulsively. You guys know how to manage your finances. I am also getting that there is a sense of competitiveness inside you, and you don't like defeat. If you really like someone or something you are not afraid to fight for them and that will draw your future spouse to you. You guys might have the mentality of "I will for my lover doesn't matter if the whole world will turn against me" Or "I'll do my best so I don't have to regret later". You guys know when to let go of someone and when to fight for them. Your future spouse will admire this about you. I'm also getting that some of you may be obsessed with saving or investing your money into something that will double your money with time, like stocks or something. By the time you'll meet your future spouse you will accomplish a lot of things and still be humble, you're down to earth nature will attract your future spouse a lot.

Pile 2

Welcome Pile 2! Your ambition and passion for life will draw your future spouse to you. I'm also getting that some of you may love to travel or you guys may love to learn about different cultures. Your future spouse will love how understanding, respectful and humble you are. Another thing I am picking up on is that you guys are always looking forward to the positive side of life and you guys are not afraid to try new things. I am also wearing that some of you may like swimming or spending time by the beach. You guys have great patience and you are willing to wait for them. Your future spouse may be working by the time you meet them so They will want to focus on their career and they won't be working. You will still be very patient with them and you will not Rush them into doing things that they don't want to do. You will be willing to wait for them and that is what they will admire the most about you. For some of you I am getting that you guys may have a very interesting personality or you guys know about a lot of things and your future spouse is someone who is very attracted to intelligent people. I am also getting that you guys don't show your cards at once and you guys have a lot of interesting aspects to you. Your future spouse will not be able to put you in a certain box because they will always be finding new things about you and you will always keep them wondering about you. There is also something very pure about you. I am getting that you guys are waiting for marriage and won't lose your V card before marriage. Your future spouse will think of you as a pure soul and want to protect you.

Pile 3

Hello pile 3! The first thing I channel there is that you might be very seductive to your future spouse. You may not be a very sexual person but it's just your energy. There is a very alluring and mysterious vibe to you. I am also getting that you are your future spouse's Ideal type. They have always wanted someone just like you and you are like a dream come true for them. I'm also getting that there is no way that they will let you go because your future spouse is very much obsessed with you but not in a negative way. Yours pose Mein seed and thousand you and I am also get in that you bring back memories of their childhood and you give them your nostalgia. Your future spouse is going to feel an instant connection with you and they might feel as if they have known you for a very long time. Or it could be that you have already met your future spouse. You guys are very understanding and no matter how your future spouse will act you will always teach them the right things and help them evolve. Now I'm also getting that your future spouse sees you as someone who has made them a better person. Another message I'm picking upon is that your future spouse will be drawn towards you because of your nurturing and caring personality. They will like how you are always willing to help others and how you are always evolving yourself. This might sound cliche but your future spouse will think that you're not like others. They will like how in tune you are with your feminine side. Your future spouse will be drawn to you because they will think that you can bring stability into their life. And I'm not saying that they'll depend on you . They just see you as a perfect partner.

[razorblade180]

Martial Practice 2

March:*planking*…….

Yanqing:Two more minutes.

March:You’re insane.

Yanqing:You said you were going to take this seriously, and I’m going to take this-

March:*plops to the ground*

Yanqing:Seriously!?

March:I’m trying! Although I don’t get how this helps swordplay!

Yanqing:Your arms will get tired swinging a sword a lot, but it’ll never feel worse than planking for five minutes. Honestly I thought you had it. You can help fight Phantylia but not endure a five minute plank.

March:Not even remotely close to begin the same thing! Ugh, this is frustrating.

Yanqing:Imagine my position. I see you make similar pacing errors I’ve done and can’t help but patiently wait for you to stop!

March:It’s not like I’m not listening. I just-

Yanqing:Think you can make use of an opening, so you take it. Believe me, I get it deeply! Now I get what the General means when he says “Don’t think you can make a strike. Know you can make a strike.”

March:Ahhh, so know different than archery. Don’t let the bowstring go unless you know have the shot.

Yangqing:I…actually never thought of it like that.

March:Yanqing, I really am taking this seriously and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but Yunli’s approach in our practice is a little less…intense. *sits up*

Yanqing:Of course it is. After all, you’re representing the Loufu, not the Zhuming. Not to say she isn’t being earnest, but certain pressure isn’t going to fall on her if you make errors.

March:Oh…it’s that serious?

Yanqing:Yes and no. Sorta?

March:What happened to needing certainty!? You can be direct with a sword and not an explanation?

Yanqing:Hey! I’m trying to find the right phrasing! March, you are an outsider but you’re also an accomplished fighter. In all honesty, you’re picking up the sword really well. People all over will be interested to see your skills, but I wouldn’t say their expectations are unreasonable. Like I said, you’re not from here.

March:So the bar is great instead of excellence. Mistakes won’t be held too harshly against me but that doesn’t mean I can afford to cause a blunder.

Yanqing:It wouldn’t surprise me if most citizens would simply be happy seeing someone as charismatic as you take part in learning our customs. Mistakes are bound to happen; however, they’ll be directed at my inabilities as a teacher. Then by extension…they’ll say things like “what has the General been teaching his disciple?” That’s where I draw the line. I refuse to cause him any unnecessary trouble.

March:So that’s why you’re so stiff. I can see why, but Jing Yuan doesn’t seem like the type of person to put too much stock in opinions like that. He definitely wouldn’t blame you.

Yanqing:Doesn’t change the fact I would be causing unnecessary problems for him. I’d blame myself…

March:…(He’s quite the little adult. Between him, Bailu, and Dan Heng, I’m starting to wonder if any kid on the Loufu actually gets a childhood.) Looks like I gotta put in double the effort. But first…mind if we eat?

Yanqing:Alright. Despite what it might look like, I’m not trying to run you into the ground. I’ll buy of course. I’m sure there’s something on the ship you’re still dying to try.

The sudden and loud sound of his stomach growling makes his face turn a little red as March tried not to snicker. Yanqing simply starts walking, prompting her to get up.

Even after that little moment, March notices how the boy carries himself maturely and as a teacher. If she was being honest with herself, March remembered how eager she was to do right by Himeko and Welt when she was brought into the Express family. Sure she entered the Wardance out of curiosity, but the choice to train so admittedly was born from the desire to continue helping her newfound family. She could definitely relate to Yanqing’s ambitions and fears.

Without hesitation, March pulled out her camera and ran to catch up with him. The girl put her arm around his shoulders and smiled brightly before hitting the flash.

Yanqing:Agh! What the heck!?

March:Hehe, hmmm not a bad photo of me at least. You might need some work though.

She shows him an image of her smiling cutely while he’s completely caught unaware and a little startled. His stern face quickly shattered into pouting as all prior thoughts vanished.

Yanqing:I wasn’t ready! That’s not fair!

March:Oh so you want another one? Okay, better bring your best smile!

“Best smile.” Funny, the moment he thought about it, Yanqing immediately found it difficult. Teeth or no teeth? Was he looking too directly into the lens? Why was this so hard!? His gaze shifted left at March to see what smile she was making; only to notice the girl was sticking her tongue at him childishly. Yanqing didn’t think twice about returning the gesture as they began the dumbest stare down in history.

It wasn’t long before both of them broke out into laughter over their antics, giving March the perfect opportunity. Click! The perfect shot of just two fast friends being silly and full of life.

March:Aye, I knew you had it in you. I’ll be sure to send you a copy. That way you’ll never forget!

Yanqing:Yeah well…thanks. *smiles* Now then, let’s get some food already. I’m starving!

March:Don’t have to tell me twice!

[sleekervae]

The Bride [0.7]

Masterlist

A/N: sorry I've been away for so long guys, I hit a bit of a depression when I came home but I'm slowly coming out of it. And ofc any time Tom's in a cowboy hat catch me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure lol.

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: Billy moves to Lincoln

Warnings: cursing, slander, mentions of shooting, anxiety and paranoia

Word Count: 5,222

Tag List: @poppyflower-22 @ponyslayer

The town of Lincoln was a booming, dusty town with a strong Mexican population. Despite its small size it was rapidly developing in housing, productivity, and opportunity. And where there was opportunity, ambition came sniffing around.

The first opportunity Lawrence P. Murphy saw was a monopoly; so many immigrant farmers eager to make a living, and he had the means to distribute their products to those who needed them. Of course, because he had been in the only game in town, no farmer could complain when Murphy began to slash their earnings, because where were they supposed to go? Who was going to compensate them?

Well, John Tunstall saw his own opportunity: completion.

Same distribution, same stores, better wages, better human rights. And when the farmers learned of what Tunstall had to offer, they of course clamoured to sell their grain, veggies, and dry goods to him instead of Murphy.

Another result of competition was jealousy... as well as greed... and then desperation.

Murphy became so desperate to keep his stocks, so desperate to hold on to the power and control he had within Lincoln, that he was willing to sub-contract criminals to keep the farmers in line. There was no real law in Lincoln, so again -- who was to stop him?

Seven had just struck the morning air, businesses were opening and children were beginning their chores for the day. It was a simple, ordinary day, up until an unfamiliar horse strided into town. On the back of said horse was a woman, a striking stranger donning a long canvas coat and a black, wide-brimmed hat. The horse matched her facade, black in its coat with a single white sock on its back leg, trotting away peacefully under the patient guidance of its rider.

Some of the locals stopped what they were doing, it wasn't often they'd see women riding horses by themselves. They'd never seen a strange woman ride into town, period; they were typically always accompanied by a man.

And yet, the town of Lincoln would come to find there was nothing typical about this woman.

They watched curiously as she stopped before John Tunstall's store. Dismounting her horse, she was much shorter than she appeared, however she walked with great confidence up the stairs of the store front and waltzed right in.

A store clerk glanced up, giving her his own curious gaze as she bypassed all the available product and approached the desk, "Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked.

"Why yes," she smiled sweetly for him, lifting her hat off her head and letting her long brown hair cascade over her shoulders, "I heard Mr. Tunstall was hiring for a book keeper. I'm here to apply," she replied simply, plucking her riding gloves off her fingers one by one.

The clerk nodded, "I see. Do you have experience?"

"Yes, sir. Six years worth," her smile widened, the tinge of her southern accent was so effortlessly charming that the clerk couldn't help but be taken with her.

"Six years?" he queried. He couldn't have put this girl at more than twenty-years-old.

"That's right," she nodded, never wavering in her confidence.

She seemed sweet enough, the clerk didn't see the harm in her, "Well, Mr. Tunstall won't be back in town for another few weeks, but I'd be happy to give you the run through, if you'd like?" he offered.

"I'd appreciate that," she nodded, "Mr...?"

"Charlie works just fine," he stepped out from the counter to lead her into the back, "And your name?"

"Johana," she replied, reaching out to shake his hand, "Johana Delile,"

Working for Mr. Murphy brought in a lot of money, and for the most part, it was easy money. Intimidate the competition, disrupt supply chains, and remind the locals who held the monopoly in town.

That last part didn't sit well with Billy. Jesse, however, seemed to thrive on it.

The locals they were threatening, the supply chains they were disrupting, were typically Mexican families. Immigrants who had journeyed up North in hopes of achieving the American Dream. They were good people who just wanted to make an honest living. People who, despite their contracts with Murphy, were giving their supply to Tunstall because he simply paid better.

If anyone deserved a shot at making it in this country, it was them. Billy understood that better than any of Jesse's boys could, better than Murphy ever would. Murphy's solution was muscle and ammo, and despite how much Billy tried to keep violence out of it, he could only play peacemaker for so long before something snapped.

Billy found himself torn. He knew the pain of struggling for a better life, the desperation that came with it. He saw the fear in the eyes of the families they intimidated, and it ate at him. He could almost hear Eleanor's voice, urging him to do the right thing, to find another way.

But here he was, stuck in a cycle of survival and compromise, his hands tied by the very people he was trying to distance himself from. Each day brought a new challenge, a new moral line to cross, and Billy felt the weight of it pressing down on him, threatening to crush whatever remnants of his old self he had left.

Today was another warm one, summer would be coming to an end soon yet the heat was insistent on sticking around. Murphy had tasked Jesse with another intimidation tactic, Jesse naturally dragged Billy and Pat with him.

They made a good trio: Jesse was the aggressive one, hyper, quick on the tongue and on the draw, Pat, with his distinguished way of dress gave him some air of power and authority, people respected him. And Billy, well Billy's sensitivity came into play quite effectively. Jesse knew how much Billy didn't want blood spilled, he could tell from the moment he stepped foot into town. So Billy was naturally the last line of threat, encouraging the locals to wise up and respect Murphy's business.

Today however would prove to be just a tad different.

It wasn't the first time the trio had stormed into Tunstall's store, tearing through bags of grain, kicking bags of flour, making a real mess of the place. The clerk in charge stood helpless, unarmed, and outmanned. This was exactly what Jesse and his boys expected as they strode into the store. Jesse’s aggression could be sensed a mile away, and it was enough to make the poor store clerk quake in his boots.

"I thought we gave you a warning last time!" Jesse hollered, his boot connecting with another bag of grain, spilling its contents across the floor.

"And what warning would that be?" the clerk stammered, trying to stand his ground. Billy felt a pang of sympathy for the guy, along with a growing annoyance at Jesse’s antics.

"Shape up and ship out," Jesse replied with a sneer. "You've got no chance at competing with Murphy. He knows it, you know it, and I'm sure at this point Tunstall knows it too."

Pat chimed in, "You can’t even get the same quality product. It’s no competition."

Billy lingered in the back, staying quiet but ready should things escalate. They almost did with a farmer and his family the other day, and Billy had barely managed to reel Jesse back in, like a rabid animal on a leash.

"Where's Tunstall at?" Jesse demanded, hands on his hips.

"He won’t be back for a few weeks," the clerk said, trying to sound confident.

"You told me that last time," Jesse scoffed.

"Last time was the same," the clerk replied. "Mr. Tunstall’s a busy man, you know..."

A smirk tugged at Jesse’s lips. He glanced at Pat, then at Billy, before turning back to the clerk. "I bet he is. So damn busy, he leaves some gawky kid to run his store instead of being here himself. Real brave man,"

Just as the tension reached its peak, the door to the store swung open, and Billy swore he was seeing a ghost. Given the dumfounded look on Jesse's face, he felt the same. In walked Eleanor—or a more refined, polished version of her. Billy finally sat up from the crate he was resting on, studying her hard as she sauntered into the hostile room. Her hair was pinned up nicely, her slacks were traded for a nice dress, and her face was clean, free of any trace of stress or depression.

"Sam, you need help out here? I heard some bags fall over—"

She took in the scene with a quick glance, her eyes locking with Billy's first, then shifting to Jesse. The same gobsmacked expression hit her only for a moment; her eyes went wide, and Billy could hear her sharp inhale. Nevertheless, she remained cool and stoic, standing beside the clerk with a calm authority that commanded the room.

"What’s goin' on here?" Eleanor asked, her voice steady and her Carolinian accent heavier than before.

Jesse straightened up, stepping forward with caution, "Eleanor?" he muttered, but the edge in his voice had dulled.

She cocked a brow, glancing at Sam with curiosity before turning back to Jesse, "Who's Eleanor?" she asked plainly.

Pat himself was confused, glancing between the two men. Obviously, there was something about this girl that had them both as white as sheets.

Jesse scoffed in disbelief, "Don't play around, Ellie. It's not funny," he told her.

"Do you see me laughing?" she sassed back, one hand going on her hip, "Now I asked you a question, you still have yet to answer me,"

"They were just leaving, Jo," Sam informed her.

"Jo?" Billy finally spoke, coming to stand in line with Jesse and Pat. There were so many emotions flooding through him; relief because she was alive and appeared relatively unharmed, confused and hurt because she obviously recognized him and Jesse, but whatever role she was taking on now, she obviously couldn't let slip that she knew them.

"Johana," she said simply, "You boys work for Mr. Murphy, don't ya?" she cocked her head, staring directly at Billy now.

Billy took a hard swallow before answering, "That's right, ma'am," Jesse shot him a glare, pissed and annoyed that Billy was playing into her cock and bull story.

A pitiful smile crossed her face, "Then you don't belong here. Either buy somethin', or get out," she huffed, "We got a special on dried apricots this week,"

Jesse was still in disbelief, but he could register enough to see how she was talking to him. He could see which side she was playing for, and that automatically made her his enemy.

"You really wanna' do this, Eleanor?" he asked, "This is what you do to me?"

Eleanor simply shook her head, "Now listen, I don't know who this Eleanor girl is, but God save her soul should you ever find her. Now, I told you to leave,"

Jesse scowled menacingly, anger boiling inside him now, "Or what?" he took a step closer, "What the hell are you gonna' do?"

Billy watched anxiously as a viscous, petty smile crossed her face. He could see how much Eleanor was enjoying this, toying with Jesse, riling him up. But he couldn't have predicted what she did next.

Without warning, she let out an ear-piercing, murderous scream. The type of scream women let out when they knew they were in real trouble, the type of scream that townsfolk would drop everything for and run if it meant protecting their own. And that's just what happened, already Billy could hear people making their way to Tunstall's store. He knew exactly how it would look when they came in here, and he was eager to avoid as much trouble as he could.

They had to get out, now.

"Alright, alright! We get it!" Billy stepped forward, his hands out to try and calm her, "You win!"

Eleanor immediately stopped screaming, that same smile still plastered to her face. It was almost as though she had been taken on by another spirit, this wasn't the Eleanor that Billy had come to know. Even Sam was shaken as he cowered further back behind the desk.

"I'm glad you see it my way," she told him, "Now either run along, and I make up a ruse about a mouse runnin' loose around here. Or the townspeople can come in and I'll tell 'em all about how you tried to manhandle a poor, defenceless, little woman," her smile was overtaken by that all too familiar pout that Billy and Jesse came to know.

That murderous glare returned to Jesse's face, his fists balling at his sides. Of course, he couldn't do anything here, not now anyway. Billy wouldn't put it past him to return come closing time, though.

"Alright, we're leaving," Pat agreed, tugging Jesse by his jacket arm, "But Mr. Murphy's gett'n real tired of losing his suppliers,"

"Well, maybe if Murphy paid his suppliers properly, he wouldn't be having a problem?" Sam butted in.

"Money talks well, after all," Eleanor nodded coyly.

Jesse stepped back with the boys, his glare never leaving Eleanor's, "Don't get too comfortable, Johana. We'll be back,"

"Gimme' a head's up next time!" she called after them, "I'll put some coffee on!"

Billy grabbed Jesse and dragged him out the door, just as a few locals came rushing into the store to see what all the screaming was about. Sam and Eleanor -- or Johana, as they came to know her -- quickly quelled their fears with the story of a rogue rat, sending them all on their way again. All they were left with now was a giant mess to clean up.

"That was wonderful, Jo," Sam awed, "I don't know how you got it in you!"

"What do ya' mean, Sam?" she asked.

"You just stand up to them so well! That first guy was all up in your face and you never flinched!" he replied

"Well, it's simple," she told him as they began to clean up, "Don't let 'em see you scared, that's how they know they got power over you,"

Sam nodded, "S'pose that makes sense... were you scared?"

"Of those knuckle heads? Please," she scoffed.

"Why'd they keep calling you 'Eleanor', though?"

Eleanor simply shrugged, not letting any hint of stress show in her expression, "Hell if I know. Maybe I just got one of 'em faces?"

Sam began to laugh, "Maybe you look too much like his girlfriend that took off on 'im?" well, he almost hit the nail on the head...

"Maybe so," Eleanor chuckled back, though the thought of being Jesse's girl absolutely repulsed her, "I'm gonna grab the broom. You try to salvage whatcha' can,"

"Sounds good!"

Eleanor walked into the back of the store, her calm facade crumbling the moment she was out of sight. Her hand flew to her mouth, muffling her labored breathing. Her chest tightened like a bowstring as she fell back against the wall, eyes wide with panic. Jesse was in town. Billy was in town. They were working for the competition. If they were feeling spiteful, her cover was definitely blown.

She slid down the wall, her legs shaking beneath her, the reality of the situation hitting her like a freight train. Memories flooding back like a dam bursting, the life she had tried so hard to escape was back to haunt her. She pressed her palm against her chest, willing herself to calm down.

Footsteps echoed from the front of the store, each one sending a jolt of fear through her. Sam would surely be back to check on her if she wasn't out soon. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, fighting to regain control. She couldn’t let him see her like this, couldn't risk him finding out the truth.

Taking a deep breath, Eleanor straightened up, forcing herself to stand tall. She brushed her hands down her dress, smoothing out the wrinkles, and went to fetch the broom. She had fought too hard to create this new life, and she wasn’t about to let the Seven Rivers Gang destroy it.

Billy had never seen Jesse so furious. The moment he stepped out of the store, his boots stomped heavily across the gravel path. He kicked at a wooden beam supporting the building’s awning with such force that Pat worried it might come crashing down on them.

"That bitch!" Jesse roared, his voice echoing through the quiet town. "After everything we did for her, that's how she repays us?" He turned to Billy, eyes blazing with rage. "She say something to you? About her little plan?"

Billy flinched at Jesse’s snarl. "N-No!" he shook his head swiftly, meeting Jesse’s intense glare. "She must’ve come along here on her way from Rosario!"

"Like hell!"

Pat stepped in, anxious to calm Jesse and avoid drawing more attention. "Who is she, anyhow?" he asked.

"A little runaway whore I took pity on a year ago! Stupid me for thinking she’d be loyal!" Jesse snapped. "I let her outta my sight for one day —"

"Hey, c’mon!" Billy interrupted. "Don’t be that way, Jesse. You don’t know what she had to put up with out there!"

"Oh, and you do?" Jesse scoffed. He stopped in his tracks, stepping into Billy’s space, eyes narrowing. "You'll cling to anything to hang onto her, won’t you?" he growled, spit flying from his lips.

Billy held his ground. "That’s not true —"

"Are you sure? Because now my worry is you'll take one look at her, she’ll bat her big pretty eyes at you, and you’ll lose focus," Jesse huffed.

"And you won’t?" Billy shot back. "You knew her longer."

"And for reasons beyond me, she likes you better," Jesse replied, bitterness lacing his words. "Don’t fall for it, Billy! She’s a snake! A con artist! And we walked right into her next scheme!"

Billy clenched his fists, struggling to keep his composure. "Do you even hear yourself?" he asked, his voice tight with frustration. He didn’t want to believe Jesse, but the doubt gnawed at him viciously.

"You heard her in there! She's Johana. For now, anyway," Jesse spat, whirling around and striding away. Billy and Pat jogged to keep up.

"Jesse, what're you gonna do?" Billy asked, a knot of worry tightening in his chest. He had a sinking feeling about Jesse’s intentions.

"What do you think I'm gonna do? How do you think Tunstall's gonna feel knowing he's got a con woman running his store?" Jesse's voice was sharp, filled with a venom that made Billy flinch.

Pat grabbed Jesse’s sleeve, pulling him to a stop. "Hold on, now," he said firmly, forcing Jesse to face him. "Listen, I understand how pissed off you boys are. But how are you gonna look to Tunstall -- hell, how are you gonna look to Murphy -- if you go and accuse this girl of being who you say she is without any proof? Now, if she had her name and face on a poster, that would be one thing."

Billy nodded, desperate to keep the situation from spiraling. "Yeah, and exposing her doesn't serve us any purpose, Jesse," he added, his voice steady but pleading.

Jesse's jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with a mix of hurt and anger. He knew they were right, even if he hated to admit it. As much as he felt betrayed by Eleanor, he had to stay focused on their mission. She -- Johana -- whoever she was, couldn’t derail their plans.

"Fine," he snapped, ripping his arm from Pat’s grip and straightening his jacket. "Leave her be. She'll be out of a job in no time, anyhow." He then turned to Billy, his eyes narrowing. "And if I find out you go anywhere near her..." His words were harsh, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes -- a hint of the pain he felt, buried beneath the anger.

"I won't," Billy assured him, though the words felt like ash in his mouth.

As they fell in step, Pat attempted to shift the conversation to something trivial. Billy nodded along, but his mind was elsewhere, a heavy lump forming in his stomach. The sight of Eleanor had stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite shake. Relief at seeing her alive and well was overshadowed by a gnawing anxiety, questions spiraling uncontrollably in his mind.

Why was she here? Was she safe? What had she gone through to end up in Tunstall's store? His heart ached with the thought of her composed, cleaned up appearance in the store clashing with the Eleanor he remembered. She was pristine and lady-like, a true Southern Belle not quite herself, and if he hadn't seen her in the store there was a good chance Billy might not have recognized her at all.

Billy’s gaze drifted back to Jesse, who was now engaged in a conversation with Pat. Jesse’s anger was palpable, but Billy could see the undercurrent of hurt beneath it. He knew Jesse felt betrayed, but he also knew how deeply he had cared for Eleanor. It was a mess, all of it, and Billy was caught in the middle, unsure of what to do or how to feel.

If there was one thing Billy could never do well, it was listening. He knew he'd pay dearly if Jesse or anyone found out where he was going.

He hadn't planned to leave the party early, but Dolan Murphy couldn't help but push Billy to perform. And perform he did. Over ten targets shot down in less than a minute—a personal best some would reckon. Despite their admiration, despite the clear impression Billy had made, he could also recognize the fear in their faces. Good. In a way, he wanted Murphy, Jesse, even the U.S. Army General to fear him.

With every shot, he reflected on how he ended up here, his mission to abolish such a corrupt system quelled when he realized he was suddenly just as wrapped up in corruption as everyone else. Dear God, if his mother saw him now...

In the wake of his demonstration, Billy left alcohol spilled, glass shattered, and a small fire breaking out over a barn threshold. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but stop and watch the U.S. Army General swig down his whiskey while he chatted with the town sheriff. He recognized the colors he wore, the brim of his hat, the markings on his sleeve. He was of the same battalion as Eleanor's husband—or would-be husband, that is. If he was here, he wondered if that same captain was here too.

He wondered if Eleanor knew that...

His feet moved before his mind could catch up, carrying him away from the chaos he'd left behind and towards the edge of town. He knew the risks, knew Jesse’s wrath would be waiting for him if he got caught. But he had to see her, had to find out if she was okay.

As he walked, the night air cooled his burning skin, but did nothing to calm the storm inside him. He remembered the fear in the eyes of those he'd impressed with his shooting skills, the way they looked at him like he was something to be wary of. It was a twisted sort of satisfaction, knowing he could instill that kind of fear. Yet it was also a bitter reminder of how far he'd strayed from the man he once wanted to be.

His mother would be ashamed, and Eleanor—he didn’t know what she’d think. She might assure him it was okay, might try to understand, but the truth was he didn’t even understand himself anymore. The lines between right and wrong had blurred, leaving him adrift in a sea of confusion and guilt.

Billy stopped at the edge of the road, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of her. He didn't know what he was hoping for, but he knew he couldn’t walk away without trying.

The roads were quiet at this time of night, a welcome reprieve for Eleanor on her evening walk home. She still didn't have a "home" per se, but Tunstall paid her just enough to stay in a nicer boarding house. No holes in the curtains, no rotten bed mattresses, and locks on doors that worked properly.

It had been days since Jesse and Billy ambushed the store, and yet she was still as shaken as though it happened moments ago. Every step she took outside, her eyes scanned the faces in the street. Every glance out a window, she wondered if they were watching her, plotting something. Sam, bless his heart, was still oblivious to any stress she was under as he continued to run the storefront, leaving Eleanor to fret over the books and accounts in the back.

She had to wonder if God had a twisted sense of humor, or perhaps he was just taunting her at this point. Taunting her with Billy, always keeping him just within reach, but never enough to have him fully. Not that she ever thought she stood a chance, not out here, anyway. She had to wonder how he became so mixed up in such nasty business. When did he come back to the gang? Did Jesse feel more inclined to let him return because she disappeared?

Ditching Jesse was a move she knew she could never recover from in his eyes, but she seized her opportunity to escape the first moment she could. After all, there was opportunity for her in Lincoln; she never stood a chance with Jesse.

Not even with Billy.

As she walked, the cool night air did little to calm the storm inside her. Her mind was a whirlpool of memories and questions, each one more painful than the last. The image of Billy's face, the anger and confusion in his eyes when he saw her in the store, haunted her. She wondered if he thought of her as often as she thought of him, if he missed her the way she missed him.

But then she reminded herself of the reality. Billy was tangled in a web of violence and lawlessness, a world she had desperately tried to escape. A world she could never fully belong to, even if her heart stubbornly refused to let go of him.

There was a palpable tension in the air, a feeling that prickled at the back of Eleanor's neck. The sensation of being watched, of unseen eyes tracking her every move, gnawed at her. She tried to shake it off, attributing it to her frayed nerves, but the feeling only grew stronger.

The street lamps cast long, eerie shadows, and every rustle of leaves or creak of a wooden plank seemed amplified in the stillness. She quickened her pace, her heart pounding in her chest, every instinct screaming at her to get to safety. Her eyes darted around, catching glimpses of movement in the periphery, shadows that seemed to loom and retreat.

She could feel her breath quickening, a tightness in her chest that had nothing to do with the physical exertion of walking. Every step felt heavy, as if the weight of unseen gazes bore down on her. The normally comforting sounds of the night now seemed sinister, the hoot of an owl making her jump, the distant bark of a dog sending a shiver down her spine.

Eleanor's mind raced with possibilities, each more frightening than the last. Was it Jesse? Had he sent someone to follow her, lurking in the shadows to catch her off guard? She shook her head, trying to dispel the paranoia, but it clung to her, a dark cloud she couldn't escape.

Reaching the boarding house, Eleanor fumbled for her keys, her hands trembling as she pushed through the doors. The clerk was gone for the night, the sign-in book left open on the desk, and a dim candle burning at the end of its wick was the only source of light within.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, making the empty room feel even more eerie. Eleanor’s pulse quickened as she hurried towards the stairs, her breath hitching when she heard the door creak open behind her. Panic surged through her veins. Without a second thought, she reached into her bag, her fingers closing around the familiar handle of her switchblade.

She spun around, blade ready, eyes wide with fear and apprehension. But then she froze, the tension in her body melting into a mixture of relief and confusion. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim candle light, was Billy.

His eyes met hers, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before settling into a wary calm. He stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him, as if to show he meant no harm. Eleanor’s heart pounded in her chest, not from fear anymore, but from the sudden, unexpected rush of seeing him here, now. She slowly lowered the blade, but didn’t put it away, her mind racing with questions and emotions she wasn’t ready to face.

“Billy,” she whispered, the name barely escaping her lips, a mixture of relief and disbelief in her voice. She took a cautious step back, still not entirely sure what to make of his sudden appearance.

"Eleanor," he nodded, speaking softly, "Or... am I talking to Johana?"

She scoffed quietly, slipping the switchblade back into her bag, the tension flooding out of her shoulders, "Come on, quick. Before someone sees you," she whispered, fluttering her fingers to follow her. Without a second thought, Billy obeyed, Jessie's warnings be damned. He was just so glad to see her, to see her ruse falling for him.

She led him down the hall to a corner suite, unlocking the door to reveal a newer, cleaner, intact room. Billy took it all in as she drew the curtains, his eyes lingering on the small details that spoke volumes about her new life. The floral wallpaper, the neatly made bed, the organized desk—it all painted a picture of someone trying to build a semblance of stability. But the shadows in her eyes, the tension in her movements, told another story.

"Nice place you got here," he noted.

"I suppose," she shrugged as she lit the gas gamp, casting a warm glow in the room, "Bit of a step up for me, I'll admit," he noted how her voice softened, her accent wasn't so strong anymore.

"It suits you," he then glanced over her appearance, her long corduroy skirt, the matching vest with the flouncy white shirt underneath, "The whole get up suits you," She looked like a more grown up version of herself that she'd fit into with just a few more years.

"You don't have to flatter so hard," Eleanor went for her closet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, "Care for some?"

"Nah, I'm alright," he took a seat on the edge of the bed while she poured herself a glass anyway. The warm glow of the gas lamp cast a soft light on her face, highlighting the worry lines etched into her features.

"So..." she began as she sat across from him, her voice steady but low, "Who wants to go first?"

[stumpyjoepete]

I think the time-stopping is mostly a metaphor for like, having a strong and true vision of the world? He doesn't do anything while time is stopped, really, and the few times attention is really drawn to it Caesar just looks at stuff. It's an indication of his Emersonian mind... He loses it at one point, and it's being inspired by Julia's presence (cause it's a misogynistic movie, men do while women are admired) that restores it, and as she grows closer to him she develops it too.

Yes, I think you are exactly right. Someone (possibly you?) put this forward in more detail in a reblog too. I was looking for a way to end the post, and "time stopping that doesn't actually do anything useful seems like a good metaphor for a movie whose production and themes are so out-of-step with time" seemed like a fine way to do it.

Also, Cesar's, uh, character development, I guess we'll call it, is done in such a half-assed way. The on-screen depiction of him at his most self-destructive and lost is... _before_ he loses his powers. Time rewinding is going off left and right during his coliseum bender. And then, shortly thereafter, there's the, uh, underage sex scandal, and he loses his powers. Off screen. But then he gets them back the very next time he's on screen, because Julia believes in him real hard. But he nonetheless continues to be a self-involved and mopey bitch after that, until Julia gets pregnant. And then, uh, baby heals rift between Mayor and Cesar, the end.

And the misogyny. You are sure right about that. There's such a fun and well-stocked grab-bag of tropes. Men do, ladies inspire. Ladies smooching each other is decadence. Men in dresses are little fascist perverts. Teen women are valuable for their virginity. It's unfair when men get cancelled for allegedly fucking aforementioned teen virgins. Also, she was a lying slut; I only thought she was underage at the time. Allegedly. Could have been a deep fake, you never know. Anyhow, onwards. Relationships are fundamentally about making a baby. Broken men will be healed by the love of a good woman. Evil women seek power not because they have their own ambitions but because they're still thirsty for the Cesar Catilenis. Probably some others I missed.

But it also helped us see a lot of actresses' tits, so it's impossible to say if it was bad or not.

[geisterland]

Cidade Alta, Cidade Baixa - ao3 link

Pure excitement ran through her. Brazil shifted the weight from one leg to another, trying her very best to keep all that energy in. After all, she needed to make a good first impression, and she would not do it by getting overly giddy and humiliating herself. Oh, but she just couldn't believe this was finally happening! A moment she had dreamed of for so long. - You may come in now, Miss. Brazil turned her head to the American government worker who had spoken to her. With a polite smile and nod, she took a step forward. The country opened the door gently, wondering how this long-awaited conversation would go. And there he was, waiting in the center of the room by one of the chairs. Noticing her presence, America looked over at her. His face lit up, and he nodded toward her. She returned the gesture, and soon after was standing by his side. The other country was slightly taller than her, white, with brown hair and grayish eyes. For a moment, they just stood there, staring at one another. Then, suddenly a bit embarrassed, Brazil adverted her gaze. - I'm really grateful for what you've done. - Brazil spoke, voice more hushed than usual. - Oh, pfft, it was nothing. In fact, I believe we should've actually done it sooner. - America replied. - After all, independence is no easy task. You should be proud! - I suppose that's true... Still, it quite pleased me to hear the news. You were the first one to successfully do it, so it means a lot coming from you.

America let out a breathy laugh, clearly content with the compliment. Brazil was glad. To her, he surely deserved the praise. She was just happy for having gotten it right. A hand rested on her shoulder.

- I can already tell this will be the start of something great.

. . .

How could she ever have been this stupid?

So stupid as to think that she was different - that she actually meant anything other than just another political pawn. Another victim of imperialist ambitions that wanted nothing more than having her as another base of operations, another raw stock factory, another... Another nation to manipulate for someone else's benefit.

Still, it had hurt. It had been devastating when she found out the truth - who was truly financing, who was to win when João Goulart was overthrown, who was to benefit when tanks rolled into the capital.

Brazil should've known. She knew how he treated other countries in Latin America. And yet, she had turned a blind eye. They had a good political relationship. Both stood to gain from it. Equals in position. They... They were friends. Why should she complain about mistreatment when it hadn't happened to her? When she was regarded with respect?

...

God, she had really deluded herself into thinking those things were true. She doubted that she had ever actually meant anything. To him, to his nation. Brazil hadn't mattered since she was born, and now that she finally thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance there was value to her outside the economical...

Ripped right out of her hands by someone she had once looked up to. Someone she strived to be like for the longest time.

When she had found out, sometime after the dictatorship had started, she felt utterly helpless. Brazil was inconsolable. It hadn't been just the upper echelons of her own people that wanted to impose this suffering on everyone else, but someone she put her wholehearted trust in.

Suppose that was the worst part of it.

That it was entirely her own fault for doing so.

...

The next time they saw each other, she entirely avoided him. Brazil thought that if she even stared at America's face again, she would burst into tears. But it seemed as if he hadn't the same feelings as her, that he wasn't ashamed of himself. Because as soon as it was time to leave, he went after her. Grabbed her wrist, demanded that she talk to him.

- I don't understand why you're acting like this!

And that was what had made Brazil break. Pulling herself away from his grasp, she remained with her back turned to him. That familiar knot in her throat hurt, and she felt an all-encompassing hatred.

Brazil didn't ever hate, but at that moment, there was no one more deserving of it.

- I can't believe you have the fucking gall to tell me that.

For a moment, it seemed as if the other nation was surprised by her tone of voice. Right after, however, he began to speak again. And by God, how she abhorred that voice at that moment - those placating words that so easily slipped out of his mouth.

- I'm sorry, I don't understand. What did I do wrong, Bruna?

Brazil turned around, feeling her body tremble. Her hands were balled. How dare he, play with her emotions, using her personal name as if he hadn't been the one to destroy her faith in him?

- Don't ever call me that ever again. - She spoke through gritted teeth. - You know what you did.

The gears seemed to turn in his head, and his demeanor changed. America took a step forward, propping his sunglasses on his head. The ones she knew he only used because he had bad vision but didn't want to get prescription glasses because they "made him look stupid". It was such a righteous look in his face, it disgusted her.

- Look, Brazil, I am aware how this might have hurt you. But you just have to understand... - America paused for a moment, pinching his eyebrows together. - This is for your own good.

All that could come out of her mouth was a disbelieving scoff. She couldn't fucking believe it...

- It doesn't look like it now, but believe me, you'll thank me for this one day.

- God fuck, America! - She expressed out of pure frustration. - What the hell is your problem?! How could this ever be good for me? Good for my people?

- What, would you rather be like the Warsaw pact, Brazil? Don't you know what... Whatever, look, I know it isn't ideal, but we... I did this for you.

Tears rolled down her face, and her face felt hot.

- You're fucking delusional if you think this is what's good for me.

- Hey, hey, come on... You surely can't mean that.

America reached out a hand, to put it in her shoulder. As hard as she could, Brazil slapped it away. His attempt at pacification failed, and he seemed a little taken aback by that fact.

- Yes I do, America. I do fucking mean that.

She sniffled, feeling some of her anger dissipating. Any hate that she had directed toward the North American went back to being deep shame. Shame of that sweet-talk that just some months prior might have convinced her.

- I just... I can't... I can't believe you would do this to me. But I guess I should've seen it coming... You don't care about anyone but yourself, America. Not even your Allies. We're all just possible advantages for your squabble with the communist.

Brazil turned away, shaking her head. Warm tears still rolled down her cheeks, and she felt a pit in her stomach.

- Just... Just leave me be, America. - She looked down at her shoes, speaking low, as if even she didn't want to listen to what she'd say. - You mean nothing to me. Not after what you did.

And without wanting to know what excuse or rationalization he could come with now, the country walked away. There was nothing he could ever say that would make this alright. Thankfully, he didn't follow her this time around.

[thenewcaptainunderpants]

(act 2 exposit: continued!)

Silas Beryl wanted to change the world.

He believed in necessary societal change, bending the will of the galaxy to his own desires. And anybody who called him a madman just lacked understanding, lacked a VISION.

But he might as well lean into that angle anyway. Keeps him anonymous, after all

Or at least, it was supposed to, before Captain Underpants and his sidekicks confronted Dr. Diaper and took him down.

Silas was locked away in the penitentiary. His ambitions foiled and his life ruined. Worse yet, the mockery. The character he played became a host of jokes and gags for everybody else imprisoned. Beryl was a laughing stock.

But soon, it wasn’t him people were laughing at anymore. Some time later, some other crazed scientist with a goofy name tried to take over the world in a deranged scheme. That scientist was named Tippy Tinkletrousers, although it seems before he went by Pippy Poopypants.

Silas laughed along, at first. But soon, his encounters with Tippy grew closer together. Both of them were mad scientists. Both of them were misunderstood in their eyes. And most importantly, they shared a common enemy—the waistband warrior himself.

For a few months, things went fine. They plotted their escape (Tippy designed a pair of Robo-Pants) and spoke of past experiences. However, everything changed when Tippy was suddenly taken to solitary confinement. Apparently, Tippy was seen outside the prison freezing two police officers and actively pursuing two 4th grade boys. While to regular prisoners, this seemed like Tippy doing some kind of strange switcharoo, Silas knew what it really meant. The Robo-Pants worked, and they in fact worked so well, that the timeline had already been disrupted without them knowing.

Silas broke Tippy out with the help of some paid off prisoners, breaking free of the jail together in the pants and going into hiding immediately after. The centre of chaos that was Captain Underpants was worth intense study, so they paid close attention to everything that occurred.

And pay attention, they certainly did. During the 5th Grade year, Tippy and Silas managed to obtain the DNA of somebody who had suddenly taken over the school halfway through the year. Encoding it with temporal energy, it was designed to restore the person in question in their own form, in case their past incarnation chose not to pursue the path once laid out for him.

Lo and behold, as the school year came to an end, the tuft of hair they took spontaneously grew into the once thought lost being, falling to his knees. Melvinborg was alive once more. And within the first few minutes of his life, a few things were made clear to him—if he strayed from Silas and Tippy’s prerogative, they would return him to his empty status as a lost possibility.

Together, the three formed Infiltrator X, and spent years building up their status. Even when the Captain seemingly ceased to be, Silas knew the time would come to take him down once and for all. Infiltrator X established itself in other departments regardless, becoming one of the most infamous underground crime powers everywhere. With their time machine, with their power and influence, with their intelligence, they would be unstoppable.

And now, Captain Underpants, new and old, had emerged, and it became truly time to put the initiative into action once and for all.

“Bring up the database on all of his previous foes.”

“Quite a lot to choose from, huh?”

“We only need a few.”

“And I suppose we just leave that to you, Silas? You were his first enemy, after all.”

“Nonsense, Tippy. This is OUR fight.”

“We’re going to kill him together.”

[shugthedug]

all these footballers like ‘a principle is something I believe in until it gets in the way of my sporting ambition’ shut the fuck up challenge.

Roy Keane is right (lmfao), a yellow card is a small price to pay to stand by your beliefs and every single one of these piss takers trying to justify why a mild threat to their World Cup campaign was enough to chuck their ethics out the window need to accept that what they are is FIFAs dancing monkeys.

If you only believe in lgbtq rights until there’s a consequence for you personally, you don’t believe in lgbtq rights. ‘England were put in a difficult position’ yeah no shit. What, once things get hard (again, lmfao) you crumble like a tower of cards? Know who else was put in a difficult position? Every cunt who is not a millionaire footballer who has been associated with this World Cup. FIFA corruption has made football a laughing stock of sordid and vacant gestures, but at least some of its biggest stars could have done something to say this isn’t the game we want or believe in: but no, personal ambition and money win out over your friends, your family, your fans, the people who died to build your stadiums. Good fucking luck and good fucking riddance to the lot of them 🖕🏻

[muthaz-rapapa]

Hirogaru Sky Impressions (1/5)

We're in for 48 episodes so I'll do these after every 10 episodes until the end.

And I'll try to keep it short since I'm sure most of the major topics have already been discussed in great length anyway so I don't want to add to the redundancy.

Simply put, this anniversary season has been a blast of heartwarming fun so far. Not to mention, quite innovative in regards to the franchise as a whole. The breaking of old trends is excitingly refreshing while the show is still keeping it very Precure in spirit.

If anything, SkyPre (HiroSky? HiroPre? which way are we calling it?) feels the most Precure to me since probably StarPre and I think that's due to how the writing is handled this year.

Story format changes

I'm very happy that they went for spreading out the introductions and pacing the debut schedules instead of bunching the first four episodes with one new transformation after another.

True, this technically started with DeliPaPre but last season was rather weak in the characterization and group chemistry departments that the effort seemed almost wasted.

Of course, I'm not saying the DeliPa girls were a poor team or anything. They were alright.

But when you watch SkyPre, the development just feels so much more satisfying, don't you think?

Starting the season off with paired Cures (as a tribute to FutariWa, kyaa! 😆) was a great idea because it gave a lot of time for Sora and Mashiro, the first members, to bond and find their groove as partners while establishing their characters through their individual personalities, goals and inner conflicts.

Then incorporating more Cures as we go along (Tsubasa/Wing and later, Ageha/Butterfly), we have something to look forward to every week instead of letting the hype die down right after everyone debuted already...until it rises up again with the reveal of the next stock footage only to go down again and repeat.

Precure's strongest trait as a magical girl series has always been its theme of friendship and teamwork. However, you can't achieve a solid execution of that theme well if you don't actually devote time and focus to the build up of genuine camaraderie.

And the basic foundations for that lies in everyone acknowledging each other's different strengths and demonstrating how vital and valuable those are to the group.

Ep 10 really reinforced those principles (even letting Sora and Mashiro dismiss the villain cuz their friendship moment with Tsubasa came FIRST 😤) which is great cuz with Ageha's debut coming up around the corner, we can rest assured that this aspect will remain steady for at least another 10 episodes.

2. Characterization

To have a good diversified team, naturally you would need distinctly carved out characters (in other words, more than just archetypes).

SkyPre does display some old patterns but that's not a bad thing since the show largely avoids over reliance on them by giving each Cure a significant amount of depth to work with and specific goal(s) to aim for.

For Sora, Tsubasa and Ageha, their personal character arcs are quite clear and they all fit into a type of hero to go along with the season's motif. Cure Sky being a traditional ally of justice, Cure Wing as the knight to Elle-chan's princess. And Ageha wishes to become a nursery teacher, which is a very admirable ambition as teachers can serve as role models to children.

That leaves Mashiro, who's been troubled on several occasions for not having a dream of her own.

But I don't believe this means an absence of a character arc for her. At the very least, there's certainly no lack of conflict since she realized the "problem" herself and has been given screentime to address it and overcome her own doubts.

Perhaps this is also indicating that "finding her dream" is her goal and learning to accept her own "light that illuminates others" is part of that discovery process.

Mashiro's personality and drive is very supportive in nature, after all. We saw that in how she was very welcoming and accommodating of Sora and Tsubasa, residents from another world. We saw that in how she was the one to comfort Ageha, who is older than her, in the past when they were both small children.

And that is a type of hero, too.

You don't have to be super confident or bold and forthright. You don't have to be a leader or force stereotypical notions of heroism onto yourself to be a hero.

You just need a good heart and to be able to act on it.

Chances are, if you were kind to someone in need or helped someone less fortunate because you knew it was the right thing to do, then you already qualify as a true hero.

I believe that is the message of Mashiro's story.

That said, we already got so much good content and we still have so much to look forward to. Yay! 😆

Ageha/Cure Butterfly joining the team foremost (sometime after ep 15 apparently since the next announced titles don't list her name yet)

More villain generals appearing soon and therefore, more insight into what they're really after (though it's probably gonna be generic evil as always but eh, whatever cuz everything else is awesome).

More on the person who saved Sora and inspired her to become a hero, Tsubasa accomplishing his dream of being able to fly w/o the assistance of magic.

Ellee-chan's mysterious powers, oooh~

First group attack, group power-up + power-up attack, ultimate power-up (??)

Midseason Cure already spoiled but we all know who it's going to be anyway and the question if her debut will fall around the early 20s or later with the shift in narrative arrangement (see above).

Hehe, yep it's gonna be great 😁

(on another note, they now have 38 more episodes to fix Prism's transformation sequence cuz god, did they do her dirty. Especially her going MIA on the "JUMP" platform did she jump so hard she went to Skyland?! and the static split screen. I can let go of everything else but PLEASE. FIX. THOSE. DAMMIT!! 🫵💢)

[tayfabe75]

"I wanna thank my friends and family who know exactly who they are, whose opinion of me never changed whether my stock was up or down. If there's one thing that I've learned, it's that you have to look around you every day and take note of the people who have always believed in you and never stop appreciating them for it, never take them for granted. There are so many incredible new artists in this room tonight and a lot of people watching who have goals and ambitions and dreams for themselves. I need you to hear me when I say that there is no career path that is free of negativity. If you're being met with resistance, that probably means that you're doing something new. If you're experiencing turbulence or pressure, that probably means you're rising. And there might be times when you put your whole heart and soul into something and it is met with cynicism or skepticism. You cannot let that crush you, you have to let it fuel you because we live in a world where anyone has the right to say anything that they want about you at any time. But just please remember that you have the right to prove them wrong."

May 11, 2021: Taylor accepts the award for Global Icon at the BRITs. (source)

[uncaaj]

Fanfic: It’s a Wonderful Life Starring Donald and Mickey Chapter 1: Donald Bailey's Darkest Hour

chapter 1 | CHAPTER 2 | MORE COMING SOON...

TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal thoughts

READ NOW ON AO3!

Special thanks to @daamazingmeepers

As Donald Bailey stood there shivering, his hands squeezing the snow-covered railing of the bridge, he knew he needed a miracle. He was sure a lot of other people thought he needed one too. A small part of him hoped a few of those people were praying for him right now. But he couldn’t see or hear them out this far. All he could hear was the roaring river 20 feet below, and all he could see was his entire world caving in.

His business was sunk with no hope of recovery. He had alienated and frightened his family. His reputation was ruined, and he was a fugitive from the law. There was no way out this time.

Except…the way out.

Shards of ice bobbed violently in the surging water. A snowdrift broke off the shore and was tossed about for a moment as it melted into the river. You’d have to be an excellent swimmer, and even then, you wouldn’t have a marshmallow’s chance over the Yule log, Donald figured. 

But was this really it? Were all his life’s ambitions over like that snowdrift? All his hard work, generosity and sheer dumb luck paid off like this? How cruelly ironic.

Donald closed his eyes and hunched over the rail. The end had come. It was all a waste. It was time to put himself out of his years of misery. It would be the best Christmas present his community could receive.

“AAAAAAAAaaaaaaah…!”

SPLASH!

Donald’s eyes snapped open and he looked down. 

“Help, help!” cried a voice below, piercing through the icy cascade.

Against his darkest thoughts, against all that had happened tonight, against the hopelessness, Donald stripped off his coat and did what he had always done his entire, miserable life: he put himself aside and dove in to help.

+++

Donald sipped at a steaming mug of coffee, begging for his shivering to stop. He and the mouse he’d saved against the odds he’d built up moments before were stripped to their innermost layers, the rest of their clothes left to dry on a line next to a burning stove. The mouse pulled a book from the line and shook icy water from it. “Tom Sawyer’s drying out too,” he said, flipping through the pages. “You should read the new book he’s writing right now.”

Donald didn’t acknowledge the mouse in the flow nightgown, instead turning to the tollbooth keeper who had graciously allowed them to warm up in his booth. “Thanks again.”

He adjusted his stocking cap and smiled. “No problem,” he said before pointing to the mouse. “How’d you fall in?”

“Ha-ha! W-well, I didn’t fall in,” said the mouse, returning the book to its perch. “I jumped in to save Donald.”

Donald looked up, surprised. “You jumped in that frozen river to save me?”

“Well, you didn’t go through with it, did ya?” said the mouse.

“Go through what?”

The mouse looked at Donald intently. “Suicide.”

It was the tollkeeper’s turn to look aghast. “Suicide’s against the law around here!” he breathed.

The mouse nodded. “It’s against the law where I come from too.”

“Where’s that?” asked Donald.

“Heaven,” said the mouse.

“What a hoot,” Donald sneered. “Be serious.”

“I am serious, Donald.”

Donald was taken aback. “H-how do you know my name?”

“I know everything about you. I’ve seen you grow up from when you were a duckling.”

Donald gulped. “That’s comforting. What are you, a mind reader?”

The mouse stood tall. “Angel Second Class, actually. The name’s Mickey Odbody.”

Donald blinked, then rubbed his temples. “Cripes, I wonder what Launchpad put in my drink. Pleasure to meet you, I suppose.”

Mickey took Donald’s held out hand and shook it. “Likewise.”

Donald wrapped the blanket tighter around him and chuckled. “Angel Second Class, huh? What’s that mean? You’re light on wings for an Angel.”

“That’s the thing,” said Mickey, “I haven’t earned my wings yet. That’s why I’m Second Class. I’m your guardian angel nonetheless, and the best mouse for the job.”

“Figures I’d get a guardian without wings,” said Donald bitterly. “How does an angel Second Class get his wings?”

“By helping you.”

“Well, do you have $8,000 to spare? I’ll take pennies, nickels, or Comanche wampum.”

“Very funny,” Mickey grumbled. “And money doesn’t have much use in heaven.”

Donald scoffed. “It’s got a lotta use here, bub. Too bad I’m worth more dead than alive.”

“Come on, Donald,” Mickey chastised, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m not gonna earn my wings with that attitude. Why, if you only knew all that you’ve done-“

Donald stood up and beat his fist on the table. “Oh, knock off the angel bit, ya big palooka! You don’t know me! I haven’t done anything with my life! That’s why I was on that bridge when you took your dive! Heck, my wife, kids, and my friends would be just dandy without me! So why don’tcha go and haunt someone else?!” Donald sat down again in a big huff.

A moment passed before Mickey came up behind him. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now? You really think killing yourself would make everyone feel happier?”

Donald felt as if he were being scolded by his own father. He cowered slightly and mumbled, “I dunno. I guess you’re right…I suppose it would’ve been better if I hadn’t been born at all.”

Mickey leaned an ear closer. “What’d you say?”

“I said I wish I’d never been born!” Donald shouted, the frustration that had built up his whole sorry life put into that one sentence.

Mickey gasped. “Don’t say things like that! Like I said-” The mouse paused and thought for a moment, then suddenly struck his palm with his fist. “Wait a minute! What an idea!” He looked up to the heavens. “Whaddaya think?” he said in a low voice. No one seemed to answer but the angel nodded anyway. He turned back to Donald and declared, “Okay, Donald, you’ve got your wish. You’ve never been born.”

[giftfromblythe]

Circle of Life

There’s something in the gaze Of every picture on the wall And as I walk on by I’m sure they’re waiting for me to fall There’s nothing left within me Of the girl I once was Only bitter remnants Of a pain without a cause And these captured memories Only remind me to press on To leave long behind me All I thought I should have won These days I only ever Do what I must The seeds of ambition Left there in the dust Yet somehow I know That if I walk on ahead The flower I abandoned Will be growing there instead I walk and walk in circles Only seeing the return But in each repetition There’s something I will learn

Something that becomes relevant to me every few years is the cyclical nature of life and how that plays into mental illness.  My depressive episodes seem to operate on a 2-3 year cycle—thankfully they’re not always severe, but they do impact my daily life in a lot of ways.  I lose interest in things I enjoy.  My projects get put aside because I lose motivation.  I have difficulty envisioning the future in a positive sense.  I react to perceived obstacles and inconveniences more strongly than usual and get stuck mentally on the most challenging part and assume everything hinges on dealing with it first.  That’s probably also anxiety, but it’s not exactly easy to separate out what symptom or habit belongs to which diagnosis.  My point is, I fall into patterns that I’ve established over countless repetitions and the nature of my mental illness makes it hard to see how I can get out of them.

So I often end up relearning a lot of the methods I use to maintain a good quality of life in these episodes.  Things like daily exercise, keeping my freezer stocked with precooked meals for when cooking feels overwhelming, and monitoring my energy levels are included in that, yes, but I mostly mean relearning how to experience joy, how to plan for the future, how to allow myself the care I give others.

It’s a little different every time.  Sometimes it’s harder than others.  Often, it requires acknowledging that I haven’t truly lost those things—my brain’s just hiding them from me.  I can and will find it again.  I just have to take small steps to rekindle those embers of joy smoldering in the back of my head: going for walks not for exercise but just to see something beautiful, picking up old skills or hobbies I haven’t done in a while, dancing for two minutes while my dinner’s reheating, or rereading a book that makes me laugh.  It’ll all come back to me if I remind myself of why I love these things.

That’s what this poem is about: how even though I end up depressed again, I don’t stay that way, and I ultimately get something special out of the process of recovery—I get to learn how to thrive.  Every time an episode comes around, I come out of it with a better understanding of what makes me happy, and a deeper appreciation for those things and people in my life.

So even when the wheel turns again, I know I have something to look forward to.

I hope this reminds you of what makes you happy and inspires you to look for it in your own lives.  Thanks for reading and as always, take care, listen well, and share your stories.

—Blythe

[fowlblue]

excessively detailed headcanons for Jon!! 9 (makeup), 19 (what do they think about before falling asleep), 43 (how far did they get in formal education)?

Yesss okay-

9. (makeup)

To make a long story short, Jon has a… complicated relationship with the concept of the ‘traditionally masculine’, and such complications left him inclined to avoid things typically seen as feminine (such a makeup) as a result- not out of dislike, truly, but when one is already grappling with the idea of being ‘man’ enough, something like makeup becomes less appealing, at least in Jon’s case. Excessive amounts of jewelry was about as far as he was willing to go.

Over time, however, he’s come to terms with that (at least externally) and coupled with a genuine love for ‘flash’, he can be found on occasion trying his best to get gold eyeliner on evenly, or something of that nature. Nothing complicated (art was never his strong suit), but as someone with a high appreciation for matters of appearance, he enjoys it on the rare occasion he considers a gathering worth dressing up for beyond business clothes alone.

(Arno helps him put it on sometimes but don’t tell anyone!)

19. (what do they think about before going to sleep?)

Hmm… the obvious answer is business, financial matters involving Fission Chips most likely, figures and the like, but I also imagine that before bed he has a ritual of sitting on his bed with a cigarette (lit, before he worked to quit- after, merely holding it in his fingers/mouth), pondering the little events of the day he gets too wrapped up in work to think about. Who fetched his coffee (decaf), what the gossip was that he overheard in the halls (he’s always listening), what rumors have been spread about who’s coming after him next. Thinks that would otherwise clutter up in the back of his brain- he does that until he thinks himself asleep.

(Sometimes, he gets the blessing of quieter things to think about. The new food joint on the opposite street corner he wants to try sometime, what the younger members of his estranged family are up to- he hopes they get a better start to life than he did, even if he can’t find the effort to know much about them-, what day next week he’ll supposedly take off and go out for a change. He never does, but he likes thinking about it, and for him that’s enough).

43. (how far did they go in formal education)

So, Jon grew up in a small-town suburb in the South, in a family that didn’t have much faith in higher education. From a young age, Jon was expected to make it through high school, find a nice wife and steady job and settle down. Maybe work on a trade of some kind instead, if he wanted variety. Jon always had an ambition to go father than that, he hated the idea of ‘settling’ for anything, especially in his hometown.

Jon was a surprisingly good student, supposedly wild at parties but always keeping his grades up, and with lots of looking and applying for scholarships, he got into a university near Chicago in the hopes of obtaining a Business degree. Unfortunately, both personal strain on family ties and his relatives’ insistence that he was trying to be ‘better than his name’ led to him having no support in that regard- Jon spent his high school graduation alone and resentful, and left for college the next day, the first in his family to do so.

While there, much like in high school, he did fairly well! Business came naturally to him, and while writing-intensive courses bored him, he was good with numbers and even better at making connections, even if he focused so hard at times on his schoolwork in the name of ‘success’ that he never made any close ones. He graduated with a Master of Business Administration, and then began pursuing internships and opportunities in the various fields of business that interested him: shipping, stocks, and eventually that which he’d come to be known for- communications!

[felikatze]

the recent chapters r really making me like olivia like damn. at first she's just kinda this pitiful person to be saved from her awful situation, yeah? but the story still says, "her survival is super important, actually" and it doesn't rlly click. cuz after she's free olivia turns into a bit of a stock character.

she's then just always kinda flirty and irresponsible and clingy. and that makes sense to me, cuz her upbringing was super strict and repressive, so she wants to sever all ties with that and is acting in the opposite way than she was raised. priests of her religion aren't allowed to marry so she starts flirting with reinhardt not because she's romantically interested in him but because she enjoys the promiscuity and he's the one who helped her most so he's easiest to talk to like this. this also shows especially in how she reacts to compliments back; she becomes easily flustered because the flirting is just a face she puts on for fun and beneath that she's still deeply inexperienced with such things.

the sponsorship event chapters really hammer home that she's a kind person truly deserving the title of saint. she's been raised to do good and be kind that she doesn't know how to live for herself at all.

add to that the gradual collapse of her religious beliefs. obviously she cuts ties with the knights templar cuz they tried to kill her and her own stepdad lead the charge to do so, resulting in a distrust toward the gods, because what kind god would have followers like this? but she at least still believes the gods exist. But then the tiamata arc happens and she discovers that even the gods themselves are a falsehood. the gods of purity and corruption are the same being in two directions; so if your own faith decides the nature of your god, does said god exist at all? if your will shapes god's will, does god have a will at all? she's basically discovered this setting's version of atheism.

tlde she's just plain lost. And yeah the novel is always blatant abt feeding you character details like this but i still think it's set up well.

all her eccentric behaviours are attempts to find herself but nothing sticks. she has no more dreams, no ambitions, just drifting with the flow. she just doesn't know how to have ambitions not dictated to her, how to do anything besides following orders.

and again like. the story says "her survival is going to change things" and we learn its bcuz olivia is an insane fucking powerhouse who can outclass ellen. and with her being the way she is now, any faction could snap her up. she'd just go with the first one that suited her fancy. as long as its not the knights templar, she'll be fine with anything.

which i think reflects a lot of people with impending graduation on the horizon? i sure know when i finished high school i didnt know what to do. i'm happy with my career path atm but i also feel like i could've been happy doing anything else. i just stumbled into it. olivia reflects that feeling of not knowing who you want to be, with all these external pressures, religion, family, peers, that have all these expectations for her.

also how the story then immediatly contrasts this against reinhardt. he's presented as like, a pretty selfish, self-assured character. he knows who he is and what he wants. but olivia asks him, "do you?" and challenges him to reevalute. cuz is he selfish? he's just acting that way, when he's actually concerned with the well-being of others above all, same as olivia. the only thoughts he'll spare for himself are for his own survival.

and like, again!! olivia was putting on a selfish seeming face when she's fundamentally still just kind beneath it all and both of them don't know how to be any other way!!

hell, even the circumstances are similar! olivia ditched the knights templar to save her own life but doesnt know what to do with the life she saved, and reinhardt escaped the demon king's castle to save his own skin. the main difference here is reinhardt is still working toward averting the crisis he's written into prophecy. he's still essentially trapped in the beginning of olivia's arc. so comparing the two is asking what will he do when the world's saved?

Chapter 244 i am kissing you on the mouth.

[static-method]

when i talk 2 friends about like, making a website/neocities. i hope it is clear that i am not saying Create Your Brand and Market yourself, or anything. or even like, make a site about You And Your Information.

make what social media for dogs would look like. make a wall of funny stock photos. make a dictionary of words you keep forgetting. write some basic javascript and make your favorite pngs bounce around the screen. fuck dude keep an unpublished journal in html + css, that'd be awesome too. putting yourself online isn't smthn everyone wants to do, and you don't have to have anything public to exercise and develop deeper digital literacy :]

like especially when you are learning, in my experience you're not gonna immediately make smthn that you even necessarily feel is satisfyingly representative of you, so like. why make that the focus.

a lot of creative outlets and hobbies didn't click for me properly until i started coding, and like. i dunno. just try it. do stupid things that don't matter. i feel a lotta ppl start coding cuz they wanna make a really crazy cool vn or rpg or so on. and i think you should hold onto that ambition. but also remember like. you can have fun and toys too. fun and toys is kinda how you get to the level of making a full game.