#really felt that king

[sabrondabrainrot]

July 16th - SAMS

~Guess who's got a new hyperfixation~

Close up and the sketch! I just started watching the sun and moon show and all the affiliated channels to catch the lore and wow! What an awesome ride. Love the voice acting. Sun is my fav and blood moon is my second fav, good thing it's July 16th ;) (I'm not caught up in the lore but I'm getting there)

I got a new PC so I can start drawing again and this was the first thing I did.

[crispinkiss]

act 5 my beloved

still images belowww

[the-woman-upstairs]

For anyone who likes romance and spies and yearning and a short king being completely head over heels for a woman that can (and does) kick his ass, Argylle is the movie for you. Feel like the marketing team is leaving money on the table by not appealing to the romance crowd that is crying out for more genuine love stories on film and the one in this movie is actually really sweet and features an attractive couple with actual personalities.

[morganadeservedbetter]

Merlin: God, if only someone loved me… Arthur: standing behind them with a wedding ring roses Freya: holding box of chocolates Gwaine: has balloons Gwen: holding out a flower crown Mordred: has a card Morgana: bringing him special books Lance: literally just dropped everything he was doing because Merlin needed help carrying things Gaius: facepalms This is sad.

[zuzu-draws]

So after the spoilers for Chap 257 dropped, I saw some tweets clarifying the meaning of the Kanji Sukuna used in the chapter when referring to his mother, and the overall reveals in the chapter got me thinking.

I’m making this post as a way of gathering my thoughts, personal speculations and where I think all of this connects to Sukuna’s character and the information Gege has given us over the years. Nothing I say is by any means new information, but like I said, I’m just collecting my thoughts here. By the way, just a warning, this post contains SPOILERS for the JJK Manga! If you don’t like that, please don’t read this!

Something I’ve noticed is that the theme of “Hunger” and symbolism of “Cooking/Food” is heavily referenced with Sukuna throughout the Manga. Gege in a previous Fanbook has disclosed Sukuna’s favorite Hobby to be “Eating”.

This theme is again very much ingrained within Sukuna’s cursed techniques and even his Domain Expansion, the “Malevolent Shrine”. With his two main techniques being “Dismantle” and “Cleave” are cutting-type attacks. He is also able to use a Flame-Arrow, and Fire is essential for making Food. The Shrine in his Domain Expansion literally has mouths on all sides, looking eager to chew down anything in-front of them!

This symbolism also heavily influences Sukuna’s own manner of speech, and the way he speaks to other characters in the series as well. With his post-fight chat with Jogo before his death, Sukuna mentions Jogo lacking the “Hunger” to take control of his desires, preventing him from reaching the heights of Gojo Satoru. Before the Start of their fight in Shinjuku, Sukuna called Gojo a “Nameless Fish on top of his cutting board”, and that he was going to start by “Peeling off the scales”(refering to Gojo’s infinity). There’s also further symbolism that supports this by analyzing the Kanji and meaning of Sukuna’s “Malevolent Shrine” but I’m not very educated on that so I won’t be opening that point here.

What all of this points to is that Eating and Food……is extremely important to Sukuna, to the point that it literally affects him in manners innumerable.

Eating is an instinct, a necessity for the survival of every single living being.

And In the face of extreme Hunger and starvation, even those with the strongest will could lose their Humanity and revert to the basic animalistic side of their existence. (The Heian Period also had a Famine, although I believe the timing to be a bit off, but do with this info as you see fit)

In JJK Chapter 257, it is revealed to us that Sukuna and his Twin were most likely starving in the womb of their starving mother.

On the brink of starvation, Sukuna had to consume his “other self”(his twin), so that he could survive.

Btw, this tweet and this thread gives additional characterisation to Sukuna:

Link to the original thread: Link.

More context (and reactions :P):

Link to original thread: Here

This reveals to us that indeed, Sukuna was born a twin. And as we all know, “Twins” are seen with extreme scrutiny in Jujutsu Society, they’re not well liked. This too in a period where Cursed Spirits and Jujutsu Sorcery was at its peak, it is not far-fetched to assume that his Mother may not have been treated very well by the people in her surroundings, especially as she bore twins.

When Kashimo asks if Sukuna was born the Strongest or if he made himself the Strongest, this is the response Sukuna gave to him:

When you think about it, how do you think the people around them would have reacted when the woman: who was supposed to birth two twins, gave birth to a single child instead? and that child had consumed his other twin in the womb itself?

No doubt people would’ve been horrified, disgusted and even revulsed. With the woman and her newborn child.

This would’ve led to their further ostracisation in the already very close-minded society. Unable to fend for herself and her newborn child, it must’ve been difficult for Sukuna’s mother to survive. I feel like somewhere along the line, Sukuna was left alone to fend for himself at an extremely young age. To protect himself from both Curses and Society alike.

This is why I believe Sukuna knows what true starvation, weakness and hunger feels like. Both in the emotional and literal sense. He was left without another person caring about him or his well-being, in a cut-throat period where it was “Fight or be killed”.

Powerful curses roamed all across Japan, nowhere was safe. Simply be strong, or you'll die. There's no room for weakness. And initially, a kid!Sukuna was weak, as anyone would be in the beginning when they're just starting out in this world. (and maybe, he didn't have much to eat, leading to long periods of starvation? :') )

I believe it is this debilitating hunger, and feeling of weakness that eventually led to Sukuna’s current Hedonistic mindset.

He’s essentially traumatised by it, and believes that it was his own weakness that led him to experience this sheer starvation. That he deserved to feel this way because he was weak then. Perhaps, the people around him were right, that as long as they have the power and strength to overcome anything, they’re free to do as they please; And there is nothing anyone else could do about it.

I feel like the irony here is that Sukuna himself, must’ve been a “weakling” before eventually rising the ranks to become History’s Strongest Sorcerer. This is also why he values Strength so much.

Ultimately, Sukuna has decided that there was nothing more important than being strong enough to fulfill your own desires. And “eating” is one of his most important desires. It’s his favourite thing to do, the one he derives the most pleasure out of. And like an animal, whose main focus is to consume, consume and consume. He too, simply consumes.

Most morals likely have no meaning to him. He doesn’t care who he hurts, what he does, as long as he’s able to get what he wants. And this isn’t limited to eating.

This is why people referring to Sukuna as a “Natural Disaster” is so befitting of him. Because Natural Disasters also don’t care about what or who they’re destroying, they just come and go, wreaking havoc appropriate for their nature and magnitude.

I believe Sukuna himself has said lines similar in nature, when talking to Kashimo:

Now I’m not sure how Sukuna perceives or even experiences this “Love”, because I think he has a rather very warped idea of it. I do think that this definition of love is similar to the one that Gojo also understands, but I don’t think he knows what “love” truly is. I’m not sure how I could comment on this, but I do think that Sukuna’s emotionally starved, whether he realises that or not.

Because, like Kashimo himself asked Sukuna “What is the point of dividing your soul into 20 different parts and then traversing across time if you’re satisfied with this?” we do not know the answer to that yet.

But many people have speculated that “Black Box” panels in JJK manga represent a curse (either self-inflicted or put by someone) on the speaker. Like, take a look over here where Sukuna reiterates the same dialogue, except it looks like he’s trying to reassure himself:

This once again shows that Sukuna has only ever strived for himself, in the same hedonistic fashion, to a very very extreme degree. It is possible that he's been lacking something, and he himself does not realise that he’s lacking it. Maybe it was this subconscious feeling, that led to Sukuna agreeing to Kenjaku’s plan of dividing his soul into 20 different parts, and to traverse across time as a Cursed Object.

Sukuna’s an incredibly complex character, and I’m excited to see where this goes. Gege has put extra care in the way he characterizes and depicts Sukuna, and again, I’m really sad that a lot of that characterization gets lost in translation. Still, I’m going to try my best to understand and get the most accurate feel of his character as I possibly can.

If you made it this far, Thank you for reading! And if you would like, please do leave a comment in the tags or replies because I would love to read what other people think of this and just Sukuna in general. I do not see a lot of people doing critical analysis of him, and a lot of his actions are seemingly swept under the rug. I don’t like that, so hopefully this contributes to people focusing more on Sukuna and his character. (/^v^)/ <3

[starry-bi-sky]

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.  

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 

It is a fast dream. 

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 

—---  

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom. 

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

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

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

[strobilo]

knock knock little king john its me the ratboy genius im sorry your world got destroyed :3 gotta go now bye

[flicklikesstuff]

“Maybe the flash was to blame. Or maybe it’s his shrunken state that gave the looming witch the illusion of being exactly 10 feet tall.

Whatever it was, it had flicked something within. Suddenly, he was no longer a lizard. Nor a great, powerful wizard. Not even “Rick Shades.”

He was a little Gourami.

Only 12 years old. Eyes wide and unobscured. Skin smooth from the lack of scars. But most of all, untainted by the horrors.

And unlike that little Gourami, he was entirely aware of what’s coming for them. He could warn the 12 year old. Maybe save them even. Tell her that continuing this approach is a bad, BAD, VERY TERRIBLY BAD IDEA!!

…

But he couldn’t.”

My inspiration pieces: :)

[gay-jesus-probably]

Okay so I have a lot of thoughts about the whole thing of the Gerudo being a race of entirely women, with the only exception being one man born every hundred years, and that man automatically being their king. Now this worldbuilding comes from Ocarina of Time, and there's obviously a metric fuckton of unfortunate implications there, because it was 1998. And it seems that Tears of the Kingdom is sticking with the lore of Gerudo men being extremely rare and becoming the King of their people, which once again has a metric fuckton of unfortunate implications because it's 2023 and Nintendo has somehow gotten even worse about this shit.

But let's set aside the whole... everything, and look at this from just the in-universe perspective. How does it work? I mean, it's pretty clear that there is no overlap between the kings; the old ones are normally long gone by the time a new one is born, but the Gerudo manage to take care of themselves during the hangtime. So they must have an established system of government and leadership that doesn't involve a king, and somehow that system is set up in a way that does a smooth transfer of power once a new king is born and old enough to take the throne. But why bother always declaring a random guy to be your King when you already have a perfectly functional system in place?

I mean again, the whole thing has a lot of sexist implications, but we're not looking at this from a real world context, we're examining it in-universe. And we could just go the lazy route and say that their king is in charge just because he's the only man, but I don't like that. I mean come on, the Gerudo are a race of entirely women, and most of their outside problems come from Hylian men being creepy about it. They are entirely a matriarchy; there is literally no reason for their culture to have an inherent respect for men, even if the man in question is one of them. And they're desert people; they live in an extremely harsh and dangerous landscape, if they don't have their shit together, they will die. By sheer necessity, their culture needs to put a lot of value in being practical, because if they're stupid about things, people die. They really can't afford to have a shitty leader take over, and just letting some guy take the wheel doesn't really fit with the way their culture must otherwise work.

So again, why the fuck do they bother having a King?

I think it's mainly just a ceremonial position. Yes, if the guy is a good leader he'll be in charge, but if he isn't good at being a King or isn't interested in the job... fuck it, they've already got a functional government system that's been leading their people the whole time, why fix what isn't broken? The title of Gerudo King isn't about leadership or power. I think it's more about belonging. Because the Gerudo are a culture where every single one of them can be defined in the same way... and there is exactly one exception once a century. Men are considered to be inherently outsiders at the best of times, and more often they're enemies. A man born into this culture is a natural outsider; he is completely unique, and that means he doesn't really fit into his community. And well... when someone is fundamentally different from the rest of their community, they tend to be ostracized.

So I think that's why the position of Gerudo King exists. It isn't about them needing or even wanting a man to lead them. The title of King doesn't need to involve any leadership at all. It's about giving the man born every century a place in their society. It's a way of saying yes, you are one of us, you are a Gerudo, you belong here, you are wanted and you are loved.

The Gerudo know that every hundred years, one of their children will be fundamentally different from all of his peers. And so their society is built to ensure that a child who is completely different from them will still be loved and accepted. He will always have a place in their society. He doesn't need to earn their love, he has it just for existing. These are his people.

The title of Gerudo King isn't an inherent position of authority. It's a promise of acceptance.

[touchyluffy]

part one

In the days it takes you to heal from your injuries, Luffy comes to your bedroom to sleep next to you every night. He does try, the night after the first, to sleep in his own bedroom but he can't. Usually sleep comes easy to him, especially after a long day of adventure but not now. He closes his eyes, trying to think of your wounds healing, your soft breathing, your warm hand holding his, but he can't fall asleep. He huffs in irritation and rises from his bed, sulking across the ship to knock on your bedroom door and opening it slowly. You put down your book, you were also struggling to sleep, and open the covers for him. You smile at each other as he excitedly hops into your bed.

And so it becomes routine for you two. Even as your injuries heal completely, as the sunsets and the crew walks off to their separate bedrooms, Luffy follows you into yours and you let him. It becomes normal to roll over in the middle of the night and snuggle into his warm body, to wake up in the morning with his arm wrapped around you, to feel him pull you closer in his sleep, to giggle at his sleep-talking, to hear your name in his mumblings. You offer to let him keep his toothbrush and some clothes in your room, he accepts.

Sleeping together becomes so routine that you have trouble sleeping without him. There were times when you two would be separated by a foe that Luffy challenged and each night you would stay awake staring at his side of the bed, worry clouding your mind and making it impossible to sleep and eventually when Luffy defeated the foe, he would be covered in bandages and it was your turn to listen to his soft, even breathing as he slept. There were times when you be working late into the night and he would come find you, curling up on the floor next to you to sleep in your presence until you eventually finish and drag him back to your bed so you can both sleep comfortably. There were times when you would get angry at him for putting the crew in danger with his recklessness and you'd slammed your bedroom door in his face and toss and turn, your anger at him turning into desperation for him to just come to bed already, eventually you get up to find him and as you open your bedroom door, Luffy's sleeping frame falls on your legs. He'd been sleeping against your door. Smiling you pull his rubbery body into bed and cuddle up next to him, his heartbeat your lullaby. He smiles in his sleep and his arms come up around you. Whenever he's missing his hat or sandals, you find them by your bed.

This new routine of you and your captain sleeping together left your other crewmates with their mouths on the floor several times. They still hadn't gotten used to you two waving goodnight and walking into the same bedroom. When they would ask, you tried to explain but there really wasn't anything to explain. You and their captain couldn't sleep unless you slept together. That's all, why do they always stare at you in such surprise when you say that? Their shocked faces didn't discourage you both into cuddling up to each other at night, finding relaxation, warmth, safety, and comfort in each others arms. What was once your space becomes "our bedroom", "our closet", "our bathroom".

[nelkcats]

Project: Save Humanity

or something like that

It's no surprise that the Ancients get bored. They are immortal and have all the time in the world to complain about it, sadly Danny joined them after he was crowned.

Their monthly meetings are divided into three topics: Taunting the Observants (Clockwork's favorite topic after they were demoted to helpers, assistants, and other menial jobs), talking about the safety of the Realms (quite peaceful if just as chaotic), and argue.

They- really had nothing to do, and their hobbies eventually bored them. So Danny had a brilliant idea (read: he saw it on a TV show) and decided that they should all become mentors and save one of the dimensions.

Clockwork was about to say that was not a good idea, since it was the same as throwing giants into a world of ants but he needed some fun so he kept quiet. He showed them the dimension of DC and how it was continually being destroyed, the King told them to start their project in that place and select someone.

Clockwork selected Flash because he felt vengeful, Nocturne selected Tim Drake for the same reason, and so they went; each one of the Ancients selecting a "champion" they were going to teach. Although their selection reasons were quite absurd (being that they were selecting their opposite poles or just someone interesting).

Danny being a spirit of protection, selected Jason Todd and secretly Billy Batson, because he was the king and could break the rules (Clockwork rolled his eyes at the comment). The question now was, how did they appear to them and avoid the world's myriad routes of destruction?

Well at least they weren't bored anymore

[critter-wizard]

ep 43 had me tearing up in a fucking shopping centre ‼️‼️

b+w alt version that I truly couldn't decide if I liked it more . Also I included a lot of thoughts in the tags but they're somewhat incoherent<3

[meamiki]

[reverse entry au]

oh to ask a question and immediately get hit with email puns instead ASFASDA

[wikitpowers]

reasons why taller!ty means so much to me:

i think ty being taller would just look so so lovely like him next to smaller kit would be adorable

i really really want a herondale to be the shorter love interest, just once! please! pretty please!

i’m scared that if ty is shorter, he will be infantilised more and i really do not want that

ty to me just seems to suit being tall as hell??? like idk how to describe it, he just does???

i think it would be really hot if he was icl…

our blackthorns are tall hc needs to become true

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[radiance1]

Pariah Dark. Ghost King. Master of War. Tyrant. The Breaker of Worlds.

Currently found himself... perplexed and at a loss.

He had assumed he would never be free once more, the one-time his punishment was cut short he wrote it off as the mistake it was. A pitiful fool who believed he could claim his crown from his prison without consequences.

The second time.

Well.

He would not have thought himself to be so lucky, assuming that no other would be foolish enough to free him once more.

He most likely should have learned not to assume a lot of things, when one is more than acquainted with the Master of Time. There was a lot he would do and did for the other before his eternal rest, and a lot of things he could've wrapped his mind around, found out the reason for, even so long as he had the clues no doubt left by Time.

But this.

This.

He was not exactly sure what his expression was, he could not even decide what exactly he was feeling, even. "Dearly belo-" Pariah Dark hid his mistake by clearing his throat. "Master of Time, what exactly do you intend for me to do with... these."

'These' referred to the small beasts currently amusing themselves on his body. A pitch-black chick with red eyes currently nesting in his hair, a snake trying to loop itself-and failing at looping- itself around his neck, a puppy currently resting on his arm and a cub currenting trying to get said puppy's attention only to be zapped away by the pup's foot.

Yes.

Zapped.

Despite this utterly befuddling situation, he was amused by it nonetheless.

"Your parole," The Master of Time said, all-knowing smile on his face. "Surely you would know what to do with children, would you not?"

Pariah Dark blinked. "What in the infinite is a parole?" Pariah tasted the word on his tongue, as if it was foreign to him. And, well. It was. "And what, exactly, would that have to do with children?"

The Master of Time's smile eased into faint amusement, as if aware of some joke the king himself was not.

Which happened more often than not, actually.

"Take good care of these children, and you shall be released from eternal sleep." He said, as if that explained everything. But Pariah Dark was staring at him in clear and undisguised puzzlement.

He then raised an eyebrow. "You would leave me alone with children? Truly? With no qualms?"

The personification of Time nodded, and Pariah could blink slowly, as if he had trouble wrapping his head around this. "Dearly beloved, surely you would not think that this-" If Clockwork noticed his slip of the tongue, then he didn't point it out as Pariah Dark continued. "Would be the best of ideas, no? Surely, you should be worrying for their safety."

Clockwork's eyes filled with mirth as he inclined his head slightly. "Well, do you currently hold any thoughts of harming these children?"

Pariah Dark's face gave away his faint confusion. "Not particularly, no."

"Then that is that." The ancient ghost nodded, as if everything was already decided and done as Pariah could only stare at him in unsurprised exasperation before shaking his head.

Perhaps, he should have expected this.

"The one currently making a nest of your hair goes by Vlad, the Pheonix King." Clockwork pointed his staff to the chick in question, who squinted open an eye before nestling further into the king's hair. He then pointed to the snake. "The one currently trying to strangle you, is Danny. Our prince as well as what humans would call an eastern dragon."

The way Clockwork pronounced our had Pariah feeling like it held another meaning and not just him being known as the prince.

Was there something he was not aware of...?

The staff then pointed to the pup dozing off in his arms. "That one," Clockwork said with faint amusement. "Goes by Dan, a fusion between the phoenix and dragon resulted in his creation and he soon became his own entity after becoming secluded from his timeline after its erasure." He said this casually, as if it weren't something that would cause questions. "He is also a Raiju."

How a bird and snake gave way to dog, Pariah does not know.

The staff then pointed to the last child in his arms, trying to bother Dan and being kicked away and zapped for its efforts. "That is Dani, formally Danielle. She is a Mishipeshu who is the only successful clone of the phoenix and dragon, making her our technical princess."

Again, the emphasis of our left Pariah feeling like there was something he should know. A missing piece to a puzzle he didn't even know he had started.

"You said this one was a king, correct?" Pariah asked, shifting around his arms to better support the pup and cub. "Would the phoenix's not take offense to me of all people being the one to raise their ruler?" As soon as the words left his tongue did he remember who exactly he was talking to.

He was met with a vicious smile, one that he did not see until the days of yore. His non-existent heart skipped a beat.

"Well, if they would like to voice their... displeasure." The Master of Time practically purred that sentence out, and Pariah felt something odd shift inside him. "Then they are surely allowed to do so."

Pariah grunted, silent for a few moments. Clockwork moved towards him in that time, and Pariah stood still, only tracking the ghost with his eyes. "I am quite certain you would make a wonderful father, dear-"

Excuse him, dear..?

"-So why not prove me right as you always have, hm?" Pariah Dark blinked, opening his mouth to speak before his mind screeched to a halt as he felt a pair of lips upon his own before they moved away in the next moment.

A ghost of a kiss.

"Now, run along now why don't you." Clockwork had a mischievous glint in his eyes, before Pariah found himself surrounded by a wide pasture, spanning as far as his eyes could see (and he could see very far) and at the end a forest with a house behind him.

But he could not react, even as he felt pecks upon his head, a bite at his ear and most surely the scratching of claws against his form.

His hair burst into green flames as he stood stalk still.