#self-protection with ants

[littlepawz]

Photographer Tony Austin was at the tail-end of a 3-hour nature walk recently when a murder of crows landed nearby. When one of the crows started “acting strangely,” Austin began photographing it.

Unbelievable but true!

Anting is a behavior in which crows land on an anthill and allow ants to infest their feathers. The ants then spray formic acid on their feathers. This acid will act as an insecticide, fungicide, and bactericide that will rid the bird of all its disease-causing pathogens!

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part 8

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut. Graphic domestic violence, physical abuse, choking. Non consensual kissing. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Drowning metaphors. Strong feelings of self loathing, despair, fear, anxiety. Suicidal ideation. Crying. Panic attacks. Bun is unraveling. Comfort. Protective Simon and Johnny. Things are happening.

The girl in the mirror hates you.

It’s easy to tell, by the way she stares, how her eyes glow in the yellow fluorescents of the staff bathroom.

You make her sick.

Your weakness, your stupidity, has cost her, again. As if it hasn’t cost her enough at this point, as if it hasn’t drained her dry over and over until she thought she would die.

Until she thought she wanted to die. 

Someone knocks on the bathroom door.

“Occupied.” You snap, and they huff, turning away to go who knows where.

You peek back over to the girl in the mirror. She still stares at you in disdain, but now it’s more expectant, more… intrigued, like she’s asking, well… what are you going to do?

“What are you going to do, sugar?” Phillip’s hands tighten around your neck, white teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun of your apartment. The sound of your windpipe being crushed echoes inside your eardrums, and you flail uselessly, struggling, kicking and hissing and crying to no avail. “Where are you going to run next?” Black spiderweb strings along the outside of your vision, and your palm slaps against his forearm, a pathetic endeavor, as always.

He’s too strong. Too determined. 

You’re an ant. He’s a shoe. 

You’re an early high school grad, on an academic scholarship at school your mom couldn’t afford, and he’s the charismatic grandson of a Texan oil tycoon, the son of a judge, living in a fancy house without roommates in the city.

You want to be a doctor. He wants a housewife. 

You want to be a mother; he promises to beat them out of you. 

You want a life in the sun. He wants to become a shadow himself. 

“Phillip.” You wheeze, air snaking through your teeth. He lowers his ear, like he can’t hear you, a mocking bow that you know he relishes. 

“What’s that?” 

“Can’t- breathe-“ The sigh that answers you is what you imagine a disappointed father sounds like, followed by a tsk, an over developed dramatic show that you’ve come to know so well, and he throws you to the ground in one motion, shoulder smacking against the hard wood floor. 

There’s a tear of muscle. An immediate soreness. Stars dance in your vision. 

“Gotta hand it to you, princess. You were hard to find this time.” 

You don’t have an answer for the girl in mirror.

Even with the turtleneck and the very good makeup, it’s bad. There is no doubt, someone will notice.

And then there will be questions. Nonstop questions, personal questions, private questions. Questions from your boss and an HR rep behind a closed door somewhere, invasive, mandated reporting, logical questions that you must have answers for.

You chew your lip.

It’s not so obvious, maybe, with the turtleneck. The long sleeve under your scrub top covers the tender flesh on your neck, your shoulder, your forearm. It’s second nature, how easily you hide, how perfectly they tuck away, little stories beaten into your skin for no one else but you to feel.

Except for your orbital and cheek bones. 

These are blatant. The ball cap pulled down over most of your face hid them well enough on your way in but now... inflamed, angry skin swells beneath your eye, and while it looks okay, you guess, when you get close, it’s obvious that something is wrong. The foundation and failed attempt at contour can only do so much.

It’s shocking to realize you’re actually mad at him for it.

For being so impulsive.

So sloppy.

But then again, wasn’t that your fault? 

You’re bold. Bolder than ever before. Closer to the top of your breaking point now, angry and beaten down and dying in the black of a bottomless pit. Unable to escape. Unable to climb out. 

You’ve been falling inside it for years, and it’s all you ever do. 

Fall. 

And you’re so, so tired. All you want, is for it to end. 

“That was sick, even for you, Phillip. What are you, some kind of freak? Jerking off all over your ex girlfriend’s-“ The backhand is swift. It rockets across your face, combination of it’s force and the sting making your head spin, and you stumble. 

When you lurch, he presses close, chest to your side, strong fingers digging into your forearm so tight it hurts. 

“Don’t say that.” His lips drag across your cheek, insult to injury where he struck you. They press together in a kiss, a foul, rancid piece of affection, making your stomach turn.“You know I don’t when you call yourself that. I don’t like when you lie, sweet thing. It’s not very nice.”

“It’s not a lie, you Texarkana hillbilly fuck, it’s the tru-“ You’re up against the wall in a single movement, arm twisted so hard you cry out, and he shoves you into place until he’s got you where he likes, face to face, nose to nose. 

“There’s my spitfire. Knew she was in there somewhere.” The nickname almost makes your retch. It’s a flicker of a memory, of yourself before the grave of your now life, the fateful twist that is Phillip Graves. 

“I hate you.” You spit. His eye twitches, and he looks every bit the insane man you know him to be. 

Because this... this is Phillip having fun. This is Phillip playing with his food. Phillip and his toy. 

This is not Phillip’s crazed rage. This is not suit and tie Phillip, rip your hair out from the roots Phillip, beat you until you’re unrecognizable Phillip. 

This isn’t the Phillip who slaughters innocent people. Who murders entire towns for pleasure. 

For a very short moment, your mind drifts to Simon and Johnny. You wonder what they’re doing right now, if they’ve already had their lunch, if Penny visited today. If maybe she napped with her Da safe and snuggled, sweet and asleep dreaming of sugar plums. You think about the light in Johnny’s eyes from last night, the way he looked at his daughter, and Simon, and even you. You remember the press of Simon’s mask covered lips on your forehead, a sweet, comforting piece of affection that you’ve already locked inside your heart. 

You float there. In those feelings, those memories. 

You wish they were here. You wish they could help you. 

The acknowledgement is terrifying. It happens so fast, hardly a second, but in that time, horror shivers down your spine. 

You’d put them in danger, for yourself. Your selfish, stupid self. 

Phillip’s mouth hovers over yours, and you swallow the gag rising in your throat. 

“I can’t stay.” He whispers, pseudo-gentle kisses adorning your nose, your cheek again. “It’s really rotten luck, honestly, you showing back up here today. I was just saying my see you laters.” You’re not religious, but the thoughts come easily regardless. Oh god, thank god. Thank fucking god. You have a chance.“I know you’ll be here when I get back, won’t you? I’m tired of chasing you around the world, sugar.” He gives you another wet, closed lip kiss, and your jaw trembles. “If you’re not, it’ll be that much worse for ya.”

You can do this.

It’s not anything you haven’t done before.

Deep breath. You can do this. 

Stepping outside the bathroom is like taking your first steps as a child. You’re slow, pushing through the burn in your side, the sore agony in your shoulder, the torn cartilage you’re sure is the cause the of the pain in your shoulder.

You can do this. 

Get it together. Get yourself together. You’re not going far. 

You make it down the hall without running into anyone, and once you reach the on-call room, you’re breathing long sighs of relief, sliding the lock into place after the door shuts behind your back.

Two black duffels sit on the floor, staring at you. Mocking you, just like the girl in the mirror.

What are you going to do? 

The receptionist is calling your name. 

You ignore her, trying to make it to the elevators, almost breaking into a run even though you’re in pain, your face throbbing, neck sore beyond belief. 

“Sorry, can you-“ Intercepted on your path, she gasps. “Oh my god, what happened?” 

“I was mugged.” It’s a point-blank response, even though you sound like a frog or a piece of roadkill, and it brokers no argument. You look at her with the flattest gaze imaginable, dissuading her from saying anything else. 

“I- I’m sorry. We’ve been trying to call you.” The hair on the back of your neck rises.

“For what?” 

“We need your room. There’s been a block reserved, and it includes the floor you're on. I'm... sorry.” You’re not able to contain your shock, mouth dropping open, heart cracking into tiny pieces. 

On top of everything. Now this. 

The receptionist peeks at you nervously, waiting on pins and needles for a response. 

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’m afraid. I’m so sorry. The hotel apologizes, the block is paying for a higher rate and-“ 

“It’s fine, really. I needed to check out anyway.” You know it’s not her fault. Hell, you’d be surprised if it wasn’t the hotel’s fault either. It’s not like Phillip wouldn’t move heaven and earth to force you out of hiding. He's more than capable of finding out where you’re staying. 

She gives you another apologetic look before scurrying away, and the elevator doors finally enclose around you, a tidal wave of despair swelling in your heart, dropping you to your knees with gut wrenching sobs.

You’re crying again. Curled up in the on-call bed, your shoulders shake in hysteria, tears and panic overwhelming everything you have left, swallowing you until you can’t see the surface anymore.

Your throat burns. Breathing is like rubbing sandpaper down the back of your tongue, and you wheeze when you try to take deep breaths, shoulder shrieking in misery every time you shift.

You have to get it together. You have to work in an hour. 

But you can’t. You dig deep and try, desperately working to pull something forward, something sane and controlled, but there’s nothing to be found, only acid in your throat. The hysteria mounts. It catches the wind and flies down the hill, crashing into you over and over until your hands are clenched together so tight, even they hurt.

You fucking idiot. You waited too long. You ran out of time. 

You’re dead. 

“Oh my god.” Nia covers her mouth, eyes wide. You hold up a palm.

“It looks way worse than it actually is.” Another nurse peeks around her shoulder, and gasps.

“What happened to you?”

“I was mugged yesterday, getting off the train.”

“Oh my god!”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“Yes, I did.” You assuage them to the best of your ability, reassuring their worry. “I filed a report, and they didn’t get anything important. I’m okay. Really.” And then the kicker: “I would tell you if I wasn’t.” You glance at everyone, four or five now, gathered around, and lay on the final piece of the puzzle. False familiarity and the ever present desire to be relevant. “Wouldn’t I, Nia?” You gesture around to expectant faces as if to say, tell them, and she readily agrees.

“Yeah, she totally would.”

Everyone pretty much leaves you alone after that. Patients need checks, meds, all of the usual stuff. You assure Nia once more in private, promising that you’re okay, and she reluctantly leaves you alone too, once you swear up and down.

The only thing that doesn’t leave you alone, is your cellphone.

>Hey, just wanted to check in, see how your day off was yesterday? 

>Bunny :)

There are a few others, alternating like above, Simon first, then Johnny. Asking if you got some rest, if you’re okay, and then a promise not to push.

You ignore them.

You ignore the feeling in your chest at the sight of their incoming text messages, the proof of their care.

You ignore the way it feels to know they’re only a floor below you.

You ignore the fact that when you got here today, all you wanted to do was run to Johnny’s room and settle in that chair next to his bed, curl up close to them, where there’s love, where there’s warmth. 

You ignore it at all.

Get it together. You have a job to do. 

Simon appears at the pit three hours into your shift. There’s no one around, everyone trying to take breaks, cover breaks, or deal with whatever emergency is happening in the moment, except you.

And when you round the corner and spot him, waiting, it takes your breath away.

Half of your reaction is pure fear. The last thing you want is for him to see you like this. Beaten. Broken. Ugly.  

The other half is… something pure. Something enamored. He came up here, why? Is he worried because you didn’t answer? Do they care? 

Still-

You start to turn on your heel, eyes flipping wide and panic startling your heart. You’re barely a shadow, a clip of a person on the other end of the hall and yet-

“Hey, there you are.”

Fuck. The acid starts to rise all over again. You keep your face tilted down towards the floor.

Maybe you can pretend you don’t hear him. You leap back around the corner, practically running towards the on-call room, where your life sits in two black bags, waiting.

You can’t do this. You can’t face them, let them see. 

Something desperate gnaws in the pit of your soul, a howl that begs you to turn back and let him in, let them both in, tell them everything.

It’s selfish, and cruel.

It’s unfair.

He calls your name. You still don’t answer. Your scrub pants swish together as you jog, trying to get away, but the effort is in vain. He’s too quick, long strides overtaking yours at a brisk walk, and just before you reach the door, he positions his body in front of the handle, an immovable wall.

There’s a long moment of silence. You stare up into his face, wide eyed, horrified.

You know what he’s seeing. A failure. A moron. A mess. 

To his credit, his expression does not change. His brow does not furrow. He only stares at you, frozen, slow thawing fury finally glowing in his eyes after a centuries’ long minute.

He reaches, time standing still, the back of his fingers stroking the lightest touch against your tender cheek, and his voice is almost unrecognizable behind the mask when he snarls,

“Who did this to you?”

The tears come in a flood. You don’t understand why the breakdown comes in this moment, why everything crashes into a million little pieces, until you feel a strong, careful arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a broad, warm chest, face tenderly nestled into a black hoodie. It feels… safe. Like a home you haven’t had in a long, long time. Like something you never thought you’d feel again.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness. Maybe it’s your downfall, another thing for the girl in the mirror to be angry with you about, you’re not sure. You’re not sure about anything except this feeling, this feeling that lights up your heart in an explosion of fireworks, fear and panic and anxiety soothing into sadness, into a homesick feeling for a love, a life you’ve never had.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, when you sob his name, when you go limp against him and he holds you steady, a cheek atop your head, soft words washing over you in a whisper.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, but right now, you can’t seem to care.

Johnny is distraught.

Simon brings you into his room, still tucked into his side. He’s careful with you, telegraphing all his movements, letting you know where he’s going, reverence rich in his touch like he’s handling glass.

“What in the-“

“Bun says she was mugged.” Simon tells him, and you miss whatever is happening over your bowed head, hands shaking with nerves all over again. “She assures me she’s not hurt but-“

“I’m fine.” You croak, and Johnny jerks, mouth half open in disbelief. The light is dim, casting short shadow across his face, his sweet eyes drenched in worry, and you stand at the foot of his bed, tears waiting on your waterline. “I’m okay, they didn’t really get anything, and I-“

“Come here.” He cuts you off, raising both arms, extending them as wide as he can manage, scooting his hips to the side. It’s a feat, but he hides the grimace of pain well. When you don't budge, he repeats himself, firmly the second time. “Bunny. Come here.”

The shame burns, entrenched in you so deep, you know you’ll never be able to cut it out, and your tears fall unbidden, encouraged by the hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart, an ache that you need soothed so desperately.

You’re out of control. You’re losing your grip. 

You had a moment of weakness but this… this is too much. 

“Please, pretty girl.” He whispers, reaching you where no one else can. Speaking to you through the fog of your doubt, your hatred, your fear.

Your hands shake as you reach for his, and when you sit beside him, hip to thigh, he looks at you like he’s staring at someone other than the person who used to be his nurse. He’s looking at you the way you catch him looking at Simon sometimes. Bright gaze full of love. Of worry.

“I’m okay.”

“No, ye’re not.” He shakes his head. “Ye’re not. This is not okay.” The way he says it feels like he knows, like he understands, and you swallow dry, breathing ragged and shallow. It turns frantic, and he squeezes your knee gently, redirecting your attention. “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. Ye’re safe with us.” Simon sits on the arm of the chair, directly next to the bed.

“Do you need to count your breaths?” He cuts directly to the quick. Will this provide you relief? Will this stop the pain? The agony? 

No. 

“N-no.” You gasp.

“Okay. Just try to breathe, everything’s alright."

I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just this- this happened and then I found out I had to find a new place to stay, and I st-still haven’t, so I have to sleep in the on call room, and I don’t-“

“Whoa, okay. Slow down.” Simon soothes, hand slowly sliding up and down your spine. You relax into it, marginally, clocking the subtle upward tick of Johnny’s lips, firm line shifting into a small smile, and then turning cross. 

“What do ye mean, ye dinnae have a place to stay?”

“My apartment-“ is trashed. Is a scene of a crime. Is a hollow rib cage housing a dead heart. “is being renovated so I’ve been living in a hotel,” Johnny nods, like he knows. Of course he does. What secrets do they have between? Probably none. “But someone reserved a whole block and there’s no vacancies, so I had to check out this morning.” It’s pathetic, the way you’re crying over this, the way you feel, but it’s all so forlorn in this moment, and you can't stop yourself from falling deeper and deeper into a well of despair, hopelessness dragging you to the bottom, trying to drown you. “It’s not a big deal but-“

“It is a big deal.” Johnny declares. “Ye had somethin’ horrible happen to ye, and now this on top of it?” Simon shifts, flat palm and fingers pushing down through the air, and you barely catch it from the corner of the eye. It’s the same kind of sign you give someone when you want them to slow down, and you blink.

What’re you doing?  

“I… I’m fine.” You wince at the croak in your voice, last menthol infused cough drop wearing off, bringing back the raw pain in your windpipe, the gravel grit of bruising in your voice.

“It’s okay to be upset, bun. Anyone would be.” You wipe your face, chasing away the tracks of tears and trying not to wince when you straighten your back.

“I know, but I’m okay. Really.”

“Ye cannae stay in an on-call room.” What?

“Oh… it’s fine. It,” wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s not a big deal.” Simon is watching you, focused with that same blazing intensity that feels like he’s digging around inside your skull. 

“Why don’t you stay with us?”

“What?” You blurt. “No. No, I… I couldn’t. It’s not-“

“Appropriate?” Simon finishes, head cocked. “Johnny isn’t your patient anymore.”

“And we have plenty o’ room. Penny’s still staying with Price’s a lot, because Simon’s here all the time, so it’d be nice and quiet for ye.” Say no. Tell them no.

“I couldn’t. It’s… you hardly know me. You’d invite me to live in your house?” Incredulously, you stare at them, flicking back and forth between two expectant, understanding faces.

“We know ye. Ye try to hide yerself from us, bun, but… ye cannae. Ye light up every room ye step foot in, and I dinnae think we would have made it through this without ye. Ye’re special to us, even if ye cannae accept it.” He winks. “Yet.”

“We want to help, sweetheart. Let us help you.” You’re between a rock and a hard place. An immovable force, and object. Two wills, locking in around you.

But instead of a cage, it’s warm. It’s gentle. It’s… safe.

“I couldn’t encroach.” You’re on autopilot, mouth making sounds that your heart protests. Simon sighs.

“You’re not encroaching. We’re inviting you.”

You would be putting them in danger. 

“I… I can’t.”

“Why?” Johnny’s still got his hand on yours, and he squeezes, carefully. “Talk to us, bunny.”

“Tell us what’s really going on.” Simon is grave, and for a second, air gets stuck in your lungs, fighting to escape.

You cannot tell them. No matter what. You can’t. The turtleneck is too tight, cotton and polyester scratching at your sore skin, and you shiver.

“There… there’s n-nothing going on. What if the people that mugged me,“ come back to finish the job? Track me down? Words die on your tongue, the lamest attempt to push them back withering away. Simon is having none of it.

“We’re special forces, love. No one is going to get to you while you’re with us." He pauses, trapping you, holding you in stasis, and when he repeats himself, it's a dark vow, a promise. "No one.”

If you do this. You have to tell them.

You can trust them. They’ve proven that so far, haven’t they? 

You hardly know them. 

But isn’t that better? 

“I…” Your hand raises instinctively to your throat, and Johnny’s eyes narrow.

“Bunny.” He leans forward at the waist, slow as to not hurt himself, and you sit, frozen, bug eyed, transfixed on his hand that are stretching towards your turtleneck.

You should stop him. You should tell him to back off. You should do something. 

You can't. You don't. You sit there, waiting for the discovery. Waiting for the shame. 

Once he hooks his pointer finger in the top and tugs, it’s over.

Your heart stops in your chest. Johnny burns, dragon flame and rage, incineration boiling over in his body.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He hisses.

“Fucking hell.” Simon echoes, and you close your eyes. You know the tender skin looks bad. Swollen. Angry.

“Please.” You whisper, lower lip quivering, floodgates trying to burst into pieces. “Please I… I can’t talk about it. I c-can’t, I can’t-“

“Okay, okay. Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now, sweetheart. You’re safe.” You’re crying violently, unable to see, trying to rasp out apologies, and Simon stands, tucking you back into his chest, big hand on the back of your head. Johnny keeps his touch at your back, consistent, reassuring pressure that rubs from the top of your spine down, and he hums delicate, affectionate phrases lilting in heavy Scots’.

The girl in the mirror screams at you inside your head. She calls you a fool. A coward. She tells you the truth, that you’ll only get them hurt, that you know better.

You don’t disagree with a single thing. You know all this to be true.

But for a moment… would it be so bad to indulge? To have one- two good things in your life, even if it’s fleeting. Even if you know how it will end, can you not just have this for yourself, in this suspended moment of time, this chance?

You want it. Them. So desperately, it swells and aches and tugs at you, just as they do.

Time ticks forward, and you do not pull away. You don't try to hide, or evade. You just... exist. Between them. The rock and the hard place. 

“Alright?” Simon murmurs, your tears now stopped, only delicate sniffles sounding from his chest. You nod, shifting backward to take them both in.

“I… if you’ll have me, I’ll… I’ll stay, until I can find a place.” Inky dark shadow flickers across Simon’s face, but sunlight chases it away, happiness crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

“Are ye sure?” Johnny is hopeful, bright, and beautiful, and you tighten your grasp on his hand, holding it like you’ll never let go. You take a deep breath-

You take the plunge.

A moment in the sun. 

“I’m sure.”

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 26﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> Event Masterlist

Yandere Itachi Uchiha x F!Reader -> Breeding

Warnings: Dub!con, yandere themes, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of baby trapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulative Itachi, pregnancy of breeding!kink. Itachi is still soft because yeah >\\< and fluffy if you squint

It's the ridiculously delectable way, her doe-eyed self cowers down beneath him whenever she loomed in his presence. He adores her, watching her fidget every time Itachi says something, every time he glances at her unmomentarily. She is akin to a deer, and Itachi- a lion, a ruthless, sadistic lion wanting nothing more but to tame his prey, but no- he doesn't just want to prey on her, he wants to love her. He wants her to love him, to subdue everything she can for him.

It's the way he always excuses his behavior with the sentence that chains her neck, boiling down her very core. "It's all to protect you, to keep you safe." When he addresses her as an 'Angel' she loses a little faith in god, because no angel's wings should be pinned down as hers, the way Itachi does it.

No, he does not hurt her, but he does make sure she doesn't hurt herself, sometimes confinement and solitude is the most amicable way to stem down the essence of a punishment and a lesson. Treason, if you will.

He still feels insanity grip the very nerves of his self when she approaches him, slouching as if she'd break if she stood tall. He would break her for standing tall & sniveling at him to let her go. "Hmm, maybe bestowing you with some responsibility will help, you've become quite air-headed, dear Y/N."

Oh, it desolates his perfect, controlled mind when he imagines her tiny self inflated with his seed, having trouble pacing around, needing Itachi with every little beck and call, the vulnerability which will come with her last semester, how she will struggle to hold her urine when the little Uchiha would kick and eagerly wait to see Mother and Father... how adoring.

It starts slow, after months of living together with Itachi, she knows how to read him, how Itachi's eyes glint towards the impending, she wouldn't be unjust, Itachi treats her kindly when he demands something, especially when it needs his fragile, male ego stroked and petted.

So she complies, as he spreads her apart naked, pupils visibly dilated as his gaze turns tender, more subtle. As if she'd break under him, a vile part of him wants to break her instantly. Itachi is a paradox, after all. "It's okay, my angelic little thing." You're doing so well for me. His luscious, long hair tickles her tender breasts as Itachi leans in, kissing her neck, scraping at the sensitive, irritated skin & deviously marking her up. "Oh no, don't cry, I'm going to be gentler." He dotes on her being a sensitive crybaby, can't handle his length, can't handle him.

Oh but the little being Itachi owns, is ferocious on her own, knowing most ardently she has him in her grip, "Wa-ant to go out after this." She manages to barely choke out when Itachi's member ravishes her cunt, thrusting, rutting his hips inside, churning them up to his shape. Itachi couldn't say no to that face, the future mother of his kids. "Anything... Angel."

"Will you let me fill you up?" Itachi asks though she doesn't have any choice but to, Itachi is a master, a sorcerer of illusions and to earn her goodness, to pretend she owns the decision of freedom, ever so fleeting choices that are nothing but a mirage; Itachi loves that.

She nods, biting her lip like an anxious child, the background thoughts all super setting the imagery of her being pregnant, she's too far gone now though. Stockholm Syndrome hugs her every night along with the slender arms of her lover. She wants to please him, simultaneously hating herself for the same as she nods, feeling the thrusts slow down, sloppy and then the warmth of his seed deep inside her gummy walls.

"Nothing, Angel, without you... I'm nothing."

[thecupidwitch]

Elements And Their Correspondences

Earth

Direction: North

Time: Midnight

Season: Winter

Color: Green, brown

Zodiac: Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn

Ruling planets: Venus and Saturn

Tarot Cards: Pentacles, Coins

Tools: Pentacle, salt, stones, dirt, crystals, wood, flowers

Cystals: Emerald, Jet, tourmaline, quartz, onyx, azurite, amethyst, jasper, peridot, granite.

Animals: gopher, bear, wolf, ant, horse, stag, deer, dog, cow, bull, bison, snake, worms, moles, voles, grubs

Herbs: Oak, cedar, cypress, honeysuckle, ivy, primrose, sage, grains, patchouli, nuts, magnolia, comfrey, vetivert, moss, lilac, lichen, roots, barley, alfalfa, corn, rice.

Rules: Grounding, strength, healing, success, stability, sturdiness, steadfastness, foundations, empathy, fertility, death, rebirth, wisdom, nature, animals, plants, money, prosperity.

Water

Direction: West

Time: Dusk

Season: Fall

Color: Blue, Indigo, Sliver

Zodiac: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces

Ruling planets: Moon, Neptune, Pluto

Tarot Cards: Cups

Tools: Ocean, sea glass, cup, bowl, seaweed, hag stones, cauldron

Cystals: Moonstone, pearl, silver, aquamarine, amethyst, blue tourmaline, lapis lazuli, fluorite, coral, blue topaz, beryl, opal, coral

Animals: fish, snake, frog, crab, lobster, eel, shark, dragonfly, seahorse, dolphin, sea otter, seal, whale, alligator, crocodile, beaver, octopus, penguin, salamander, turtle, starfish, koi, coral, barnacle, manta ray, manatee, jellyfish, nautilus, heron, duck, geese, crane, swan, water birds, ammonite, dragons, serpents

Herbs: seaweed, aloe, fern, water lily, lotus, moss, willow, gardenia, apple, catnip, chamomile, cattail, lettuce, kelp, birch, cabbage, coconut, cucumber, comfrey, eucalyptus, gourd, geranium, grape, licorice, lilac, pear, strawberry, tomato

Rules: emotion, intuition, psychic abilities, love, unconscious mind, fertility, self-healing, reflection, lunar energy, deep feelings, curses, death

Fire

Direction: South

Time: Noon

Season: Summer

Color: Red, Orange

Zodiac: Aries, Leo, Sagittarius

Ruling planets: Sun, Mars

Tarot Cards: Wands or Swords (depends on belief system)

Tools: Athame, candles, swords, wands, dagger, lamp, flame

Cystals: Carnelian, red jasper, bloodstone, garnet, ruby, agate, rhodochrosite, gold, pyrite, brass, fire opal, lavastone, tiger's eye

Animals: Lion, snake, coyote, fox, ladybug, bee, shark, scorpion, horse, mantis, tiger

Herbs: Cinnamon, cloves, ginger, allspice, basil, cacti, marigold, chilis, garlic, mustard, nettle, onion, heliotrope, hibiscus, juniper, lime, orange, red pepper, poppies, thistle, coffee, jalapenos, lemon, cumin, saffron, coriander

Rules: Energy, will, destruction, strength, courage, power, passion, lust, sexuality, anger, war, new beginnings, protection, loyalty, transformation, action, movement, achievement, creativity, desire, willpower

Air

Direction: East

Time: Down

Season: Spring

Color: Yellow, gold, white, light blue, pastels

Zodiac: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius

Ruling planets: Mercury, Jupiter, Uranus

Tarot Cards: Wands

Tools: Feather, wand, staff, incense, broom, bell, sword, pen

Cystals: Amber, topaz, citrine, jasper, agate, pumice, alexandrite, amethyst, fluorite, mica, clear quartz

Animals: Birds, flying insects, spiders, bats

Herbs: Bergamot, lavender, marjoram, peppermint, sage, dandelion, bluebell, clover, frankincense, primrose, lemongrass, pine, aspen, yarrow, violets, vervain, myrrh, dill, anise, aspen

Rules: Intelligence, wisdom, knowledge, logic, thought, communication, truth, inspiration, intuition, memory, creativity

Tip jar

[probablyasocialecologist]

The real issue is that Israel has no right to self-defense against the territory and the people that it occupies. According to the Fourth Geneva Convention, it has a duty and a responsibility to protect those people until the reversion to a status quo ante that preceded hostilities, meaning until sovereignty is returned to the Palestinians. Of course, Israel denies that this is applicable, because it denies that Palestinians are a people, and so they say there is no sovereign to whom to revert. Israel also claims that this territory belongs to them. They claim that they had the right to acquire it by force, which proceeds from their claim that the 1967 War was a war of self defense. Neither of those claims are true. Israel insists that the attack that launched the 1967 War—in which it destroyed Egypt’s entire air fleet while it was still on the ground—was a preemptive strike against an inevitable attack by Egypt. In reality, Egypt was cooperating with the United States as it worked toward a mediated agreement. This was not a defensive war—but even if it was, since the adoption of the UN Charter in 1945, there has been no principle in international law that permits the acquisition of territory under any circumstances. Israel has created and perpetuated legal fictions to deny the applicability of international law. For one, Israel says there is no occupation. It says the territory is “disputed” and applies occupation law on a de facto basis, which allows it to cherry-pick the provisions with which it complies. It has created a sui generis regime that has no analogy or precedent, and thus it neither recognizes Palestinians as part of its domestic order—which would characterize its confrontation with Palestinians as a civil war—nor acknowledges the existence of a regular war against a nascent sovereign fighting for national liberation. Instead, Israel has been creating new law to cover what it calls “armed conflict short of war.” This enables Israel to usurp Palestinians’ sovereignty, and associated policing power, while also using military force against them.

[i-heart-hxh]

does ikalgo have deeper significance to killua's character? i get that hes like a new friend for killua but why does it feel like he was portrayed so importantly to killua's character during caa? its like theres a deeper meaning, why did killua go out his way just to save ikalgo from those two chimera ants when they entered the building? and why did he look so hesitant? he had thoughts that said "what am i doing..? why the hell am i going the opposite direction?" or something like that. idk it just feels like togashi was implying something abt killua there but i cant figure out what that is. do u have an idea?

Hello! This is a great question!

Ikalgo's friendship with Killua is vital both to Killua's development and also to Chimera Ant arc as a whole! I can explain that significance.

Throughout much of the series, Killua tags along with Gon and primarily focuses on him. He befriends other people, certainly, but he generally does this through Gon--it's not like he's going out of his way to make these friends on his own.

In Chimera Ant Arc, the connection between Gon and Killua gets somewhat disrupted by the events that happen, and Gon's focus shifts primarily to saving Kite and his revenge on Pitou, leaving Killua to worry and feel somewhat left behind and helpless (partly as a result of the the Palm situation as well).

When Killua splits off from Gon to try and save civilians, he meets and a battles an enemy at the time, Ikalgo.

During their fight, Killua gives Ikalgo a choice: Either sell out his friends by revealing their nen powers, or die. Ikalgo chooses to die rather than betraying his friends, and Killua is able to relate to this loyalty. He spare's Ikalgo's life and tells Ikalgo that if they'd met another way, maybe they could have been friends.

Killua's kindness in empathizing with Ikalgo and sparing him is the only thing that saves his life later when he's bleeding out from the needlefish darts. Had Killua not extended that mercy and said those kind words to Ikalgo, Ikalgo would not have saved him, and he would have died.

It's interesting/neat how the scene right after Ikalgo saving Killua from the needlefish involves Gon having his own encounter with another friendly Chimera Ant, and the tone of their conversation is quite a bit different:

Contrast is so important in Chimera Ant Arc!

Anyway, when Killua shows Ikalgo mercy, makes it clear that they're friends now, and invites him to come along and be part of the human side of the war, he essentially becomes to Ikalgo what Gon has been to him: Someone who represents light, and who represents a path forward to a better life. In this arc, Killua worries that he doesn't deserve a place at Gon's side, but at the same time here he extends the same kind of light and hope that Gon gave him to someone else.

As for the scene where Killua breaks off away from Gon in the Palace Invasion in order to protect Ikalgo, this continues to show Killua's world expanding outside of Gon. Notice how in this page, it clearly shows Killua leaving Gon behind--they have their backs to each other, which is a frequent image in this arc. His mission was to protect Gon and make sure Gon could complete his revenge against Pitou, so deviating from that mission is both shocking to him, and potentially dangerous, but it shows that he's starting to protect and care for others as well as Gon.

Now, I want to be clear that I see this as a positive step for Killua. At this point in the series, Killua had made Gon his entire reason for living, essentially, and him going outside of that and making other friends and protecting and caring about them is a vital step for his character. It's showing that he's becoming a more expansive, mature person who can care for multiple people (or ants) at once rather than centering his entire existence and sense of self around one person. He made this action as quickly and efficiently as possible so he could get back to Gon's side, but he did go out of his way and leave Gon behind momentarily, and even he is surprised by this.

And while obviously I adore his nearly single-minded love and devotion for Gon, with what happens between them in this arc he needs to have others in his life besides Gon, and it's part of his transition into also being the light for Alluka and Nanika. It's a result of Killua's own innate kindness and empathy and the choice he made to leave his previous life behind, but also, he was able to reach this point partly because Gon showed him the love and encouragement he needed to become the person he is.

Now, as for Ikalgo's role in the arc as a whole: He's part of a chain of kindness and mercy that ends up changing the entire outcome of the Chimera Ant arc. This post puts it incredibly well. The chain of kindness started at the beginning of the series, with Gon befriending and rescuing Killua in spite of his background, which then eventually leads to Killua sparing Ikalgo (who then saves Killua right back), and then Ikalgo sparing Welfin, and then Welfin giving Meruem Komugi's name so that they got to be together in the end. Ikalgo shows the consequences of Killua's kindness, which are also the consequences of Gon's kindness, in part.

A major theme of the series and of Chimera Ant arc is that love and kindness are transformative, and Ikalgo has such an important role in demonstrating that theme.

[starry-bi-sky]

Part two of the "Clone Danny" au

The link to the first part is put above!

His friends know that he's phantom, they help him out just the same as before. Due to not having any ghost powers, Danny has to rely on tech and outsmarting the ghosts a lot more than before. He can't keep stealing tech from his parents' lab either, and he can't ask them to fix it if his stuff breaks. He teaches himself how to fix it.

(Its a lot of sleepless nights stealing his parents' blueprints and trying to study them. And a lot of late night research and talking with Tucker on how to build and understand tech. He refuses to rely on Tucker for his gear)

He talks to Sam about fashioning a persona as both Phantom and as Fenton. She's been to a lot of rich parties, she's seen celebrities and how they act. A "careless party boy" won't work for Danny. He's no A-Lister. But coward, feeble Fenton works just fine. Minus his smartass comments, which he can slowly start phasing out of his "civilian" life under the guise of there being ghosts.

He draws into himself, keeps his head down in class, wears baggy clothing. Ghost fighting at night really does a lot of the work for him, since he's so tired in class that he doesn't bother putting his hand up or participating. He can play the part of "loner, loser Fenton" pretty well, and ups the ante.

Phantom already has a small fanbase amongst the A-listers for being the strong, silent confident vigilante-hunter protecting them from the ghosts. Nothing much changes there other than a few minor things. Anyone who knows ASL knows he's a major fucking smart-ass who keeps cracking jokes and puns at the ghosts.

Danny learns self-defense after getting his ass beat too many times (he also gets Really Good at gym because he runs a LOT after ghosts. He eventually learns to make trackers to stick onto them when they fly away) and even gets a few ghosts to help him after he befriends them while they're exploring Amity at night. Its nothing professional and he still gets hurt a lot, but he knows how to throw a better punch than before. And he knows how to dodge better.

Since he's going for a "get them tfo of here before my parents get here" approach, danny takes a more of a "talk first, fight later" route. this... kinda works. mainly for the non-hostile ghosts. its how he manages to get some of them to help him with fighting.

Danny's honestly really, really clever. He largely relies on his wits since he doesn't have any powers to force ghosts back into the ghost zone.

TUE still happens it just occurs a little differently. Vlad Masters still wants Danny to be his son and Maddie his wife, etc. But he also wants to turn Danny into a Halfa like himself, since he knows that Danny has mild ghost abilities, he thinks he has the capacity to turn into a halfa.

Dan happens when Vlad manipulates a grieving danny into agreeing to become a halfa like himself. Except it kills Danny fully, and in his rage, Danny, now dead and a ghost, rips out Vlad's ghost half and merges with it and creates Dan. So not too different from canon.

….actually i change my mind. Danny’s ghost doesn’t merge with Vlad. Danny’s ghost tears Plasmius apart for lying to him. Dan is entirely Danny, just big and hurting and wanting to hurt others because of it. His emotions are big so Dan is big.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Skud

Debut: Kirby 64: The Crystal Shards

SKUD!!!! Who does not like Skud!! This charming little rocket has been terrorizing the hearts of many a Kirby 64 player since 2000, and is not stopping soon. Just look at that smile!

Kirby 64, as you may know, is a game centered around mixing and matching abilities. It's kind of a whole thing! But there's only so many enemies that were introduced to represent the seven abilities that Kirby 64 actually uses, so to keep things fresh and never stale, they made sure there were four enemies per ability; usually, most of these enemies would be brand new! Bomb is the exception, with FIVE enemies to represent it, and four of them being new ones! Skud is one of these!!

If you hadn't looked at what Skud looks like, you might be wondering what it does to earn the title of a Bomb enemy. And to that I say, look at it again! In fact, look at it again even if you did pay attention to its design, because Skud is simply that wonderful. It's a cute little rocket that aimlessly walks to and fro on ground or blocks, but once it sees Kirby, it makes its attack!

As you can guess, rather than throwing bombs like its predecessors Poppy Bros. Jr. and Jungle Bomb (the latter of which doesn't appear in Kirby 64, rest in peace), it turns into a typical missile and launches full force at Kirby, exploding once it hits something! It's kind of like Foley, in that sense, but more homing missile-y.

It is no secret that I love Skud. You love Skud! Everyone loves: Skud. But what are Skud's origins? Are they man, or machine? You first find one in front of Dedede's Castle—did Dedede create them? After all, he made his own mechanical hammer as Masked Dedede. But Skud seems so lively, and is never launched from anywhere–he just minds his own business until he Doesn't.

So, does that mean he's not mechanical? Consider, though, other enemies that protect (another one of) Dedede's castle(s) include Moto Shotzo and Plugg, indisputably living machines! And I haven't mentioned this, but Skud loses his face and feet in favor of fins when he launches!

Personally, I think that Skuds are like ants–they're alive, they're organic, but they just love to self-destruct for fun! And what about how they lose their faces when launching, you might ask? Maybe they feel bad whenever Kirby cries out in pain and don't want to show it! After all, for them this is just playing around!

I feel it worth noting that Bomb is one of the few abilities in Kirby 64 that, when combined with itself, does NOT make an 'enhanced' version of the original ability! Instead, Kirby starts shooting homing missiles out of his mouth...which look VERY MUCH like Skud! While these are faceless, slim and long, there's no mistaking those striking white-with-red-details-colored rockets for anything else. It's a really cute detail, and makes Skud all the more special!

Please look at Skud

[izvmimi]

cw: this is selfship-coded. reader has a job and is on call for it. reader and izuku are married with kids. cocomelon exists in this universe.

being on call for work can sometimes be the bane of your existence. while you now have the luxury of home call more often than not these days, and the calls are fewer and further between, every so often there's an emergency, and you find yourself zipping through your home to find your keys and wallet and stuff them into your purse before jumping into your car to drive straight to the hospital.

tonight, izuku is home with you, and his attention shifts from the television where he's holding your baby son in his lap and helping him sing along to cocomelon to you. you murmur something out loud but at low volume about not being able to find your work id badge and without moving, izuku scans the room and spots it hanging off of the chair of the dining room table. he quickly uses blackwhip to get to it without moving.

"got it right here, baby," he offers, cheerful to be helping.

your eyes light up as you see it and then you rush over to meet where he dangles it in the air, but as you do so, your keys not completely shoved into your hospital scrubs end up falling out of your pocket. you bend over to pick it up but he gets to that before you too; however before he hands it to you, he pulls the tendril of energy back towards him and inspects it carefully.

"wait, what's this?"

squinting, you can tell he's looking at your newest addition to your key ring, and you already can guess he's about to start commenting.

"is that... a tiny knife?" he asks, in genuine surprise. incredulous, he looks at you, and you reply with a small scoff.

"it's for self defense!" you find yourself already slighted. izuku looks at you and furrows his eyebrows, then tilts his head gently to the side.

"... this knife is literally the size of my thumb, honey."

"yeah, but it's stealthy!"

izuku's lips press into a thin line, in the way you can tell he cannot believe you're being serious with him right now.

"and it's useless? what are you defending yourself against with this? ants?"

he adjusts your son to tuck him in his other arm, who also now looks at you with bright green confused eyes as though he is already siding with your husband. a traitor sucking his thumb. izuku places the knife in his palm for scale.

"this is so useless," he repeats to himself, appalled. your face warms.

"izuku, stop judging me."

he sighs.

"i'm not judging you, i just am trying to understand what a tiny knife will do to protect you."

"it's a weapon!" you defend yourself, furrowing your eyebrows.

"why do you need weapons when you have me?" izuku replies, and you're flummoxed by how confident he is.

"you are not there 24/7."

"i could be," he repeats. you exhale loudly through your nostrils, tired of the nonsense.

"midoriya, give me my keys."

he does hand you the keys, but now he's up and following you.

"who's making you feel unsafe? tell me. you don't need a tiny knife, baby, just talk to me."

he attempts to make you talk in that annoying persistent way of his, up until he's outside of your car window knocking with a pout on his face, then waving goodbye.

you roll down your windows and give him an exasperated look.

"maybe i thought it was cute. i feel very safe, and especially so because of you, okay?" you give in. he smiles, and you lean in and kiss him and your son both, and he grins.

although there's a very good chance your anxious, sweet, protective husband will be calling you more than once tonight, just in case your tiny knife isn't enough.

[simping-ella]

Please I beg you malikai or spider x readers hcs PLEASE 🙏🏼🙏🏼✨

You know what, I'll do both cause I love my Aussie boys

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

Spider Dating Hcs

-Spiders very protective, he is always watching you.

-We all know everyone calls him spider, you are the only person that's able to call him by his name without him getting pissed off.

-This boy is touch starved, when you two are alone he is very clingy.

-He loves sleeping on your chest and thighs, especially when you play with his hair.

-Expect kisses to the temple because that's one of his favourite places to kiss you.

-Spider tries his hardest to change his attitude at school for you. (Everyone is shocked by how he acts once you two get together)

-Spider only has his mum and she's works alot, so most of the time you can stay the night (more like your not allowed to leave)

-He loves wrapping his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder while your talking to someone.

-Playful basketball games between eachother (you always win)

-Stay in movie nights are a MUST

-Spiders had trouble expressing his emotions to people, he is very bottled up and after a while of dating he finally cries in front of you.

-You and Ant being very close friends

-During SLTS you sit with Darren and quinni most of the time, spider hands you little notes that say stupid shit on them, he just wants to make you laugh.

-He loves playing with your hair, when your hugging he twirls your hair.

-He is NOT a morning person, you can expect to be trapped in his bed for at least a few more minutes. (Hours)

-In your phone you have spiders contact saved as 'daddy long legs', he finds it so stupid. (He's very tall that's why)

-Piggybacks all the time, you going to your next class? Piggyback, Your walking home? Piggyback.

-He let's you (wants you) to wear his clothes, he loves how you look in them and it lets people know your his and only his.

-Theres alot of drama at the school and he tries to keep you far away from it. Because he loves you and doesn't want you to get hurt.

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

Malaki Dating Hcs

-Malaki is super shy at first, after a while he starts being his silly flirty self.

-He is a big romantic, flowers to love letters that are poorly written.

-Malaki is almost always holding your hand and gets upset when he has to let go.

-You are very close friends with Missy, she was the one to tell Malaki to just go for it.

-Getting to watch him work out and play basketball (yes...please).

-He gives you his basketball jersey to wear sometimes.

-Whispering sweet nothings into your ear when he gets the chance.

-Malaki is amazing when it comes to comfort: rubbing your back gently, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb, kissing your hands.

-Watching movies all the time, bonus point if it's a horror movie as he isn't the best when it comes to horror.

-Poor little baby gets overwhelmed easily, please please look after him.

-Getting to learn how to play basketball (ending with you guys play fighting).

-Him sending you tiktoks like 'send this to your crush' and others like that.

-Malaki has trouble sleeping, watches you while you sleep peacefully as it helps him fall back asleep.

-He gets nightmares about things that have happened in the past, all he needs is to be the little spoon when the happens.

-He has a habit of licking his lips while talking to you. (You tease him about it all the time, making him flustered)

-After the police incident you were the one who took him home and comforted him (the threesome thing not happening)

-If we include the threesome thing: you go off on Dusty and Harper for taking advantage of your poor Malakai.

-You guys make bracelets for eachother on a date, he will never take it off.

-You help him with his mental health and let him vent to you. He's been through alot.

-He loves you so much!

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

Thanks for the request, please don't be shy to send more and I'll do them as quick as I can, thank you babes.

[inkskinned]

i had not been taught love, so i couldn't apply it to myself.

i liked the idea of self-love, but it felt sanitized, opulent - white. it was always depicted by pretty people with lots of money; vaguely familiar but entirely at-odds with my lived reality. it was "treating" yourself, long vacations, taking time off of work, reminding yourself that grades cannot hurt you.

but i did get hurt if my grades were low. i could not take the time off from work. i couldn't stretch the budget to run-off-into-the-sunset.

my life is not full of peaceful morning coffee. my life is a string of ants, crawling over the abandoned mugs i've left out for weeks. it is stepping over broken glass over-and-over rather than just picking it up. it is spending a huge amount of money on food because i can't make myself just remember to cook. i have bought a pair of earrings pretty much every week for a month, i keep losing just-one. at the same time, i can never remember that i need to buy a new toothbrush.

self-love was presented to me as a sort of - end goal. a variant self. what the kids are calling "becoming that girl." she works out while drinking smoothies and running around her large apartment in the city. i understood why she would have self-love; she clearly had her shit together. if i also could get my shit together, maybe then i'd be worthy.

i always thought of it as important for others to strive towards, but not really meant for me. when i sit in a long bath, i feel weird and cheesy. i'm not particularly drawn to meditating. i drink water because it's just a necessity. i know my own personality - i am never going to be someone wholly-at-peace. a lot of self-love approaches aren't comforting for me. any time i engage with them, i hear my cuban father scoffing gently: this is greedy. latins don't waste time by sitting in idyllic locations reading poetry - that's a white-people thing.

i am almost 30. i have only just-now realized that i didn't believe i can find self-love because i simply didn't believe i was deserving. that i grew up without an image of what being-loved would even look like, much less how to apply it on a daily basis. that any form of self-love feels false, defiant - because it's foreign to me, and i have always been denied it. i thought it was "not for me" because nobody had ever provided it.

i learned almost a self-tolerance instead - a gritted-teeth approach. i will do the things i have to do in order to prevent my mental illness from dominating my life.

i am treating myself, more and more, like a scared animal. i don't force myself to keep everything perfect. i clean up the glass, but i let myself leave the pile of clothes until later. i let myself "half-ass" things. i treat self-love as the protection of my future self - as taking care of someone who will be here, later. it's okay if i mess up in the process. it is often ugly and unrefined and. absolutely glorious. i am training myself what it is like to have someone care about me. i am training myself to trust in safety.

i am training myself - there is no one image of finally being happy.

[jayktoralldaylong]

Thinking again about Lang Qianqiu's and Xie Lian's relationship because it is under-discussed (especially with the new Donghua episodes).

Watching the Donghua after reading the book is like re-reading the book and then you see all these fresh new things that you overlooked before. Things that were misinterpreted because of circumstance but now hit with a whole new meaning!

First of all, how proud Xie Lian is of Lang Qianqiu when he's first introduced.

TGCF BOOK SPOILERS.

It's clear that Jun Wu introduced them just for the stake of stirring the pot with their past, but Xie Lian held no animosity or hate towards Lang Qianqiu, prince of the enemy kingdom. If anything, he was so very fond of the boy that reminded him of his younger self. They have a student/teacher relationship but I see them sometimes as child and parent because of how proud Xie Lian is and how far he goes sometimes to protect Lang Qianqiu. In the book he said a line that summarised could basically mean that he'd take all the blame, punishment and pain, he would endure any suffering if it meant that Lang Qianqiu could keep living innocently and pure, believing in good people and kindness. More than anything, Xie Lian wanted to protect that boy's heart.

Poor Lang Qianqiu who he'd raised to believe in kindness and peaceful coexistence, who had come in late for his birthday party which was the only reason he hadn't ended up dead. He'd just been a little late. He was excited, looking forward to seeing his father and mother. A young lad of seventeen. I bet Xie Lian was also looking forward to Qianqiu's birthday, might have even prepared a gift for him. Yet what happened? He discovered a terrible plot much too late, everyone had already been killed. Foolish people who lived in the present and believed that Xianle would rather die than dine with their enemy. The poor people didn't want that, the people dependent on Yong An's kindness and generosity would surely perish. Yong'An's mercy was the closest Xie Lian had come of saving the people of Xianle since his fall. For the people he'd failed to protect, he just wanted them to have a safe house with the kindest prince of all ruling over them.

Those selfish rebels wanted to start what would have been a terrible civil was that would have ended tragically for all the people of Xianle, they would have been stamped out like ants until they were no more. To make things worse, just as Xianle had chased away the last of the rebels, he discovered that the King was still alive. The dying King of Yong'An had just one request. He wanted the people of Xianle to pay. In that moment, what decision could the prince of a failed nation possibly do? The King wanted revenge, one couldn't fault him of that, but innocent people would suffer. The rebels were a small group, they'd taken decisions on their own. The King wouldn't care about that, people would die, children would die. To crown it all, just after Xie Lian had made a decision. Just after he'd sunk his sword into the King to silence his vengeance....who would walk in but the student he was proud of the most, seventeen year old Lang Qianqiu who'd finally made it to his birthday party.

The whole thing....was a mess.

That poor child. Imagine seeing the person you admire the most yanking their weapon from the lifeless body of your parent, and surrounding him are all of your relatives and nobles of the kingdom covered in blood. Of course such a thing is traumatising. Of course he buried Xie Lian in a hole. When a person feels that much pain, their only desire is to make the one who hurt them understand how much it hurt.

Of course Xie Lian took the blame. A a nameless and faceless Guoshi, they wouldn't be able to connect him with the people of Xianle. The people would be free of blame, and he would suffer alone. Lang Qianqiu would just have to do with his pain and his pain alone.

The way Xie Lian looks upset when Lang Qianqiu gets hurt. The way he'd rather lie over and over again, than let Lang Qianqiu believe that he was wrong for being kind.

Xie Lian remembers what it was like to be like Lang Qianqiu. He also knows how trauma twisted him into a monster that he's regretted for all of his years. He couldn't bear to imagine Lang Qianqiu going through the same. For as long as he can help it, he will mindlessly shield the boy from the ugliness of politics.....because Xie Lian loves him so much. (⁠T⁠T⁠)(⁠T⁠T⁠)(⁠T⁠T⁠)(⁠T⁠T⁠)(⁠T⁠T⁠)

That's basically his son. He's so proud of him.

I love what Xie Lian said to Lang Qianqiu, I'll love it round the world and back. I can't quote it but basically "You're not the one who did wrong, the people of Xianle are not wrong too, the wrong people are the evil doers. It is not your fault that wicked people took advantage of your kindness. You're not to blame....for being kind."

Felt like he was talking to himself for real. (⁠T⁠T⁠)

[llondonfog]

for the anon who asked for brought back wrong silver, you have my undying gratitude <3 i hope you enjoy

The animals refuse to approach anymore.

The birds shriek amongst themselves and ruffle their puffed-up feathers high up in the trees, their screeching cries high-pitched and harrowing, while the squirrels and rabbits keep to the protective shadows of a forest more ancient than Malleus himself, bellies low to the cool loam. There is condemnation in their dark, liquid eyes as Malleus skirts the edge of the trees, a judgment placed heavy and irredeemable upon his shoulders that he feels the leaden weight of more and more with every step— he has betrayed them as their lord and protector, and for that, there is no recourse. 

He has betrayed the natural laws of magic— and for that, the valley itself knows no forgiveness.

There is nothing but penance in the way that he crouches to his knees in the moss and dirt, spoiling the utilitarian nature of his robes with smears of mud and crushed pine needles. It’s a cruel act of self-inflicted guilt that drives him back to this place, a sick resignation that he cannot escape from that which his very hands helped to destroy. 

For it is not him that the animals refuse to approach, but the child that kneels beside him, a child who has been kneeling for hours in that same position, stoic and with the passive interest of someone watching an ant amble aimlessly over the ground as the woodland creatures before him reel away in horror. 

“Father said they would come back to play if I kept still,” and that sweet, clear voice scrapes over Malleus’ ears like metal on bone, his skin and scales crawling over themselves in a desperate bid to flee. “He said that I just had to allow them to become reacquainted with me, but I think he might have been wrong.” 

Malleus can feel the weight of those eyes turn to him, pinning him in place like iron— he doesn’t think even iron would sear his soul as deeply, and it takes every ounce of palatial training to keep from visibly shuddering. 

He is a dragon, and dragons do not fear. But what sits beside him is something greater than fear, something worse than even a dragon. 

“I hope that he does not feel sad when I tell him that it did not work,” the little voice beside him continues, melodic and wretched in its siren intensity. Malleus would claw off his own ears just to keep from hearing it speak, and yet he would break his own horns to hear those lips form his name. It’s madness and love, and he fears each passing second may bring him closer to the breaking point— a point where Lilia has long since arrived. “He seems to be sad a lot lately, but seeing you will surely cheer him up. Isn’t that why you’ve come, Malleus-sama?”

His name in that mouth feels like a death sentence, a curse being etched into his very being by the way that tongue glides over the vowels of his name and those teeth hiss into the consonants. It binds him, keeps him silent when he wishes to bellow and roar and rage at the child beside him— each second in its presence feels like hell on earth, and he cannot imagine what it is like for Lilia. 

Malleus can’t imagine that his own presence would grant the old fae any solace either, only perhaps the stone cold comfort that there is another who bears half the blame.

No words rise in his dried, shriveled throat, and Malleus only nods stiffly while Silver beams at him, the animals crouched and silent in the forest swiftly forgotten. It is impossible to escape Silver’s smile, with the perfect scrunch of his nose and the rosy dimples in his cheeks, and Malleus finds himself struck by the violent urge to sink his talons into the soft, pillowy flesh and pullriptear until that disgusting expression is marred to pieces and crushed under his heel. His chest tightens with useless anticipation and he’s almost dizzy with both desire and despair for what he knows that he cannot, will not do. 

It would be a more noble endeavor to sink his claws into his own heart, offer it up bloody and bare in atonement, but the person most deserving of it no longer exists. 

“Yes, of course I shall come,” he rasps instead, and the thing that wears Silver’s body like a costume, the thing that Malleus stuffed inside that cold, sad little corpse to save what was left of Lilia Vanrouge’s collapsing spirit, claps its hands with glee.

Even in death, Malleus could never refuse him.

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 251: Decisive Battle in the Unhabited, Demon-Infested Shinjuku, Part 23--Megumi is back!! aaaaand it's not looking good

Well. In case you've been living under a rock, Megumi is back and everyone and their mom knows about it because Twitter demonstrated to be full of people who lack reading comprehension, basic human compassion, and an understanding of how trauma fucks with the mind. Only the latter is excusable, since this is domain-specific knowledge that I don't expect others to be aware of.

The number of times I've read the word "bitch" next to Megumi's name is appalling to say the least.

So... yeah... happy jjk-Sunday? Sorry, I wish I had a more upbeat intro to my ramble for this chapter but man... this fandom is something else and a lot of the comments about Megumi were just so...

Anyways let's taco'bout Megumi and share Megumi-love under the cut.

What is this irritating feeling?

Why does this matter? If you haven't seen me mention this over on the twt already, Sukuna makes a small gesture that is unequivocally Megumi body-language in chapter 248:

Megumi typically places his hand over his shoulder when he's stressed (although I have to confirm he only does it when stressed):

It isn't just the body language that is significant, but rather the way of thinking itself. I didn't catch this myself, but Ant and Danchou did, so I might not do it justice when explaining it.

This way of thinking is very Megumi-like in how he second-guesses himself. More than second-guessing, however, it also feels like a nascent sense of consciousness. All of this obviously presents a very interesting dilemma because, as Sukuna recognizes, sharing a body with Yuji has changed him.

I think we all knew Yuji or Megumi would be changed by Sukuna--because that is how Gege directed our attention by having Gojo mention Yuji could inherit Sukuna's CT by the mere fact that they shared a body. I know I also assumed that Megumi would maybe learn from Sukuna using 10s. But I also know I never even considered that the opposite could be true: Yuji and Megumi could also change Sukuna.

So, the way I see it, with that hand gesture, we have what appears to be Megumi's sense of self bubbling up from under the surface and changing Sukuna.

What's interesting to me is how subtle this is. Sukuna notices this as an "irritating feeling" that is incomprehensible to someone like him who rejects aspirational ideals.

So, part of what I love about this is that sharing a body with Yuji has deepened Sukuna's own experience of reality.

Sukuna is all ego, right? Ego is everything that is concrete...

So I have to wonder how much of this is also Megumi's own emotional turmoil given what we saw this chapter...

Wake up, Megumi!

Ok so let's do a quick recap...

We also know Tsumiki is integral to how Megumi sees himself. This is very important because Megumi basically makes her his raison d'être. In other words, his whole identity is framed around protecting her during the Culling Game. Aside from the obvious shock that it was to realize Yorozu was pretending to be Tsumiki the whole time, which meant Tsumiki was dead, the issue with Megumi was that he made Tsumiki his identity.

And if there is one thing we have seen happen time and time again in jjk is how being limited by your self-ascribed identity comes back and bites you in the ass.

So in Megumi's case, what happens when his whole identity was framed around a single outcome, and then he realized that outcome turned out to be a failure right from the start?

An identity crisis or basically no sense of self.

So what does he have to live for now?

What reason does he have for living if the person whom he had wrapped his identity around is now gone? This is what created the opening for Sukuna to possess him.

What's crazy about this is that even when he was weakened, he still put up a fight and elicited a "Fushiguro Megumi" from Sukuna. Sukuna had probably already considered the importance of the bath, but this likely solidified the need to have Megumi marinate in cursed energy. Like... this is what it took to bury Megumi's consciousness. Also, this is important because we're talking about marinating in negative emotions "to be near evil".

Now, it's midnight and I got to get to sleep, but the way jjk uses "evil" is not cliché at all, but almost like as a metaphor for chaos, hyper individuality, and instinct. I started writing about Naoki Urasawa's Monster, so hopefully I can get around to explaining the whole good vs. evil dichotomy (which is one of my favorite topics ever) soon, but this is all I'll say for now. I'll come back to this in a sec.

Next, Megumi's own Cursed Technique (which we know is tied to the brain and personality) and hands are used to kill Tsumiki's body and Gojo while Megumi can only observe.

And then, Gojo accidentally blitzes Megumi's soul with his technique.

Like are we for real expecting Megumi to just stand up and start throwing hands after all he's been through? What is wrong with people???!!!!!!!!!!! Have some compassion ffs.

Unfortunately, this isn't just about a lack of reading comprehension and compassion, it's also about lack of domain knowledge. This is Trauma with a BIG T we're talking about, and Trauma has been shown to limit how you see yourself and how you are able to think.

So, of course Megumi is distraught. The writing in this is so damn realistic.

Now, Gege has been paying special attention to Megumi's body language, and while the rest of the fandom is laughing at the "Mahoraga hands", I'm looking at how tightly closed those fists are. Even the way he's curled up in a tight ball... Almost like he's about to blow up from sheer pressure.

Quite the contrast to the last time we saw him in a similar position but with more relaxed body language.

And remember, he marinated in cursed energy so that he would be closer to "evil", right? Plus getting blitzed?

Listen, I am ready for Yuji's pep talk, I am sure it will be generational, but right now, I don't think Megumi is ready (or maybe even able) to hear it. Again, because Trauma with a big T.

Plus Sukuna loosing control of Megumi's body? You kind of have to wonder why Megumi's energy has been crescendoing to the point that Sukuna would be affected by it and not only think like Megumi, but also use body language that is unequivocally Megumi.

This feels like a Megumi is about to snap.

This is starting to feel ominous precisely because he's marinated in these self-destructive emotions for so long. Emotions which surely intensified as he saw the consequences of his inability to take action.

But then again... I was expecting a blood bath out of the culling game and it was everything but so 🤣 idk what to tell y'all. As predictable as he is, Gege is unpredictable af.

Ok I think those are my main thoughts? WHAT ABOUT Y'ALL?!!!!!! What are we thinking? What are the theories? oh mai gah.

Even if I'm responding to asks slowly, I'm still reading them as they come in guys. Sorry, school + work is kicking my ass because well... in typical Megumi fashion I haven't taken responsibility for bringing out my best.

That said, I go off to sleep 🫡 Thanks for reading!

[moonshynecybin]

So I am rewatching Argentina 2018 just for giggles, also because you posted about it recently.

And. Wow. Yeah. All the bad omen sirens flashing right from the comical start delay. Committing grid crimes as if the world and officials cant see.

Commentators going - Marc is gonna be angry, marc needs to be careful (when Marc hadn't even started his black widow strut), marc just needs to be patient. Immediately followed by Marc shoving Aleix off. Getting penalized and having to give back a position. But he was in the middle of creating havoc among 5 riders and dint know which position he had to give back. Like. Imagine. Having to apologise for slaying someone but you slayed so bad you don't know which one you need to apologise to. I don't know if I am embarrassed for Marc or the riders. Marc with the kill bill siren in his head just bullying his way up.

The commentators just alternating between "marc needs to calm down" & "this is bloody carnage". It's so funny because the commentators are actually rooting for Marc, "Marc just needs to be careful and keep the pace, he can easily get 5 if he keeps it clean". Marc just hitting fastest lap times at p13.

"these are just sitting ducks in from of Marc"

"marc moving past them as if they were standing still"

Marc just bearing down the grid like the spectre of riders worst grid nightmares. Vale just minding his biz, having himself a race. Here comes a raging scrappy ant.

I unfortunately stayed on to watch the end, witnessed Uccio shooing away Marc, broke my heart a bit

Argentina was just a no good, sad, bad day for Marc.

Was it Marc's fault, yes. Does every rider have such a day, yes. Is it an excuse, no.

But it reminds me of when Enea caused that incident and Marc was the only one who said, it happened, it's fine, he will learn from it. The grace to understand. But maybe he is harsher when it's himself impacted.

Has anyone committed race crimes against Marc? Cant quite recall how he reacts. Has he called anyone a danger to the sport or something equally harsh? Or has he always been the messiest queen on the grid.

people commit on track crimes against marc and he turns into jimmy buffet. hes suddenly chilled out on a beach in a loose linen shirt with his perfectly smooth legs tanning in the sun he is CHILL. brewski in HAND ugly sunglasses ON. like i think marc is ACUTELYYY aware that he would be a hypocrite to go after people for on track crimes so he defaults HARD to the "this is racing" doctrine. it protects him to be this way! a political stance. like for instance jorge martin ends marc's last race with honda by doing extremely stupid shit and he SWAPS HELMETS WITH HIM right after. like he knowssss how he is on track, he doesnt pretend. and also i think thats just kind of how he's built! able to understand that on-track is on-track and thats that.... which is kind of crazy, because he has so much empathy for when people commit on track crimes against him (he KNOWS he would do the same) but not when they get mad at him for doing track crimes unto THEM. i think its a mix of self protection and also just being very very crazy <3

[timeskip]

Thinking about Kite's thought that Gon is a real Hunter because of his connection to animals and to Killua, and how Gon ends up twisting this idea by the end of the series. Throughout all of chimera ant arc he's chasing after this ideal of who Kite is and how strong he is!! And Ging too as an extension of Kite, but so much of what makes Gon himself comes from the influence of Kite...

As a side note, I personally kind of hate how 2011 attributed the "Hunters are well liked by animals" line to Ging. While I do understand this from an adaptation perspective, since the viewer doesn't know Kite but DOES know Ging, it also undermines a lot of what makes Gon's relationship with Kite so important IN CONTRAST to his relationship with Ging. The ways Gon was inspired by Kite and Ging are similar, but VERY distinct, and though Kite doesn't mention the friendship part of it out loud, it's still deeply important to who Gon has become since the last time he met Kite!!

And also, just a chapter before this callback, Ging was saying how he wouldn't meet with Gon if he had friends with him (a sad comparison with how Gon wanted to introduce Killua to him) !!!

Of course, this is partially because Ging just doesn't want to meet Gon specifically (because he feels awkward) but I think it also shows how Ging's belief of what makes himself a Hunter is EXTREMELY solitary, meant to drift from place to place and hunt what he doesn't have. While I do genuinely believe he cares about people like the Greed Island game masters, his insistence on not meeting Gon paints a very different picture of what "being a Hunter" means to him.

The version of "being a Hunter" that Gon has learned is instead more similar to Kite's idea, with him having inspired Gon to become one directly: Kite fights and kills if he has to but hates it, especially when it comes to the animals he wants to take care of. And obviously he cares deeply for the people he brings with him, leading to a self sacrificial moment in how he protects Gon and Killua from Pitou, which Gon emulates at the end of the arc when he loses his arm, semi-intentionally.

This idea of Gon becoming a Hunter is connected to the people he looks up to from the beginning! And with what Kite thinks about having good friends at the start of the chimera ant arc, there's also this strong idea that he should seek out friends and allies (which he did! He's been blessed with good friends!!) and keep being good and kind :')

When Kite died and Gon fell into his grief, Gon's ability to look at the world from Kite's point of view and rely on his friends also fell apart:

But isn't it interesting that at the end of things Gon is still trying to emulate Kite? But not with this idea of having good friends and relying on them. Only with the worst things that happened to him, losing an arm or imitating the impression that was made on him of Kite killing an animal because that's what has to be done.

Yes, this is a reference to Kite making sure Gon killed the chimera ants properly when they were fighting the less powerful ones. But it's also so integral to who Gon is in that moment in the depth of his grief, a brutality that wasn't part of him before. Gon learned a lot about the cruelty of the world around him through the chimera ant arc, but he already KNEW that Kite was willing to kill an animal if that's what had to be done. Except that when he was a younger child, he rejected that. He took care of Kon and didn't let Kite kill him.

This is who Gon was, and it's still a part of him, but his admiration of Kite has twisted!! His optimism that everything would work out brought him down!!! Gon has so much kindness, but in the moment he fights Pitou he's stopped caring about that. And to a degree, yes, it has to be done--but finishing off Pitou like Kite taught him isn't the way he should have done it.

Because he's not asking for Killua's help. Doing it all alone, because that's what Gon thinks it means to be strong--and though Gon was unaware of this, Kite's ideals went against this. But Gon was simply trying to be who he thought Kite and Ging would want him to be! He's lost sight of what Kite actually wanted for him!!! It's another layer to the tragedy!!!