#the coming king of the south

[tojiscrack]

JJK 271 MENTION

“dreams end” using the panels where my glorious king specifically talks about how he hopes that he isn’t dreaming, along with an image of his stunning, mouth-watering, jaw-slacking, toe-curling, leg-opening, gorgeous self with that damned eye symbolism again…

tonight’s meant to be the final chapter of jjk, but something’s telling me this isn’t it 🫢

(the jujutsu_pr account can acknowledge satoru but the literal characters in the manga can’t? especially when jujutsu society’s ‘strongest’ has supposedly ‘died’? did they all just suffer extreme trauma to the point of memory loss surrounding the one person who fought for them all?)

p.s. there was no mention of a body either. and if there’s one thing we know about bodies in jjk, it’s that the best shot at safety for EVERYONE is cremation. and yet, there wasn’t a grave like tsumiki’s or a single mention of what happened to his after yuta returned.

p.s. pt 2 based on the tags i just added about the ‘curse user’, if my satoru returns less strong, it just reinforces everything he’s ever wanted, too: his students surpass him, they live a life where their youth isn’t consistently challenged (the higher ups are dead thanks to him, so no more excessively dangerous missions) and he gets to see the world that he wanted to live through as a teen. it’ll be a full circle.

[southconfessionpark]

Maybe I'm just high on copium but I straight up refuse to believe that they actually killed off Satan for good. Like we've seen this guy travel between Hell and Heaven before, what's stopping him from doing that now??? From a dollyist perspective, I don't see a reason for him to be written off either? Tratt usually do that to completely irrelevant or unloved (by the fans or M&T themselves) characters and Satan is neither

[thiagodasilva]

Son Heungmin for ELLE Korea 🤍

[sketching-shark]

Saw the expression meme. How about 2 7 11 and 15 for Wukong and his kids? You can decide who gets what expression between them. :3

Incredibly sketchy, but here's the immediate Sun family in all their expression-filled glory! From top to bottom we've got Sun Wukong, Luohou, Yuebei Xing, and Jidu. And thanks for the request anon; this is messy, but it was very fun :3

[imaginarianisms]

more asoiaf comparisons, parallels & antiparallels to the first dance of the dragons vs the second & final dance of the dragons (& possibly the sixth blackfyre rebellion): the blacks being daenerys i targaryen's supporters, the golds being aegon vi targaryen's supporters, tommen baratheon being a close equivalent to gaemon palehair & his mother essie & sylvenna sand which may be interpreted as a parallel with queen cersei lannister & taena merryweather of myr, trystane truefyre being a close equivalent to aegon/young griff & perkin being jon connington & the shepherd being the new high septon the high sparrow, dalton greyjoy being euron i greyjoy's ancestor & the latter surpassing him, alyn waters later alyn velaryon resembling aurane waters later aurane velaryon & finishing what their ancestors started. history repeats itself.

[ronsenburg]

This WIP Wednesday is brought to you by that one poll blog that always asks: would polyamory have saved them? (The answer here is no, not really, but it might not hurt to try.)

“Why me, Sylvain?” Dorothea asked on the night of his twelth and final proposal.

The war had been over for nearly eighteen months, by then, but the streets of Enbarr still resembled the crumbling remains of the battlefield they’d been ultimately reduced to. Memories of violence and death had been hastily plastered over the backdrop of her previous life; after everything that had happened, after everything she’d done, it was far too painful to stay. So Dorothea had made a new home in Fhirdiad, teaching all the freshly orphaned little girls to sing and shivering through even the most mild of those first autumn days. It was Sylvain who had given her the first winter cloak she would wear in the kingdom, a gift on the day of his fourth proposal. The thick wool was dyed an indigo blue so deep that it was nearly purple, the inside fully trimmed in fine black ermine. She sat with it pulled close around her that night, still cold despite the fire and the thick stone walls that separated them from the late winter chill. This little library was one of Sylvain’s favorites, a glorified storeroom filled to the brim with dusty accounts of war that no one ever bothered to open. She’d spent more evenings in this room, in this chair, than she could count, now.

“There are plenty of women out there who would gladly overlook the occasional dalliance in exchange for a title.”

“You know I’m not that person anymore,” Sylvain replied, voice pained. The light from the dying fire beside them caught the shine of his eyes as he spoke. She watched as he dragged a hand roughly across them before burying his fingers back into the strands of his already disheveled hair. It was the most distraught Dorothea had ever seen him—and it was also the most honest. This was exactly the candor she’d been asking for since the night of his third proposal, when she’d realized that under all the flirting and the banter he used to dull the actual meaning of his words, Sylvain was actually sincere. She hadn’t anticipated just how difficult it would be for him to arrive here… or the guilt she would feel watching him struggle this way. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It isn’t a dalliance. It’s Felix.”

Dorothea shook her head softly. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

Only, she thought she might. Maybe it was because she was an outsider, one of the few members of their little group not woven tightly among the others with years of family acquaintance or political affiliation. Maybe she was simply better at reading people. But she’d seen all the little looks and lingering touches as though they were stage directions written in the margins of a script. A love story in three acts. It was absurd to imagine she was the only one to notice. The quiet murmurs traded just beyond the circle of the party’s campfire. The look on Sylvain’s face the first time he’d come galloping out of some magically charged cloud of smoke with Felix’s unconscious body draped across the saddle.

The Sylvain of the present reminded her a bit of the man she’d seen, then. Pale and so, so desperate for her understanding. This wasn’t the poet attempting to immortalize the splendor of a great love; this was the face of someone truly haunted.

“I don’t think I can live without him, Thea,” he murmured, stricken. “Goddess knows I’ve tried to.”

And there it was, in all its gore and agony. The final bits of gossamer and tulle unwound, the evening’s makeup all washed away. Gone was the character from their academy days; all that was left before her, now, was Sylvain.

Dorothea sighed, reaching out to clasp his larger hands between her own. “Have you considered that marrying Felix might solve—“

“I can’t marry Felix,” Sylvain interrupted with a shake of his head. “Not for the reasons you’re thinking, either. It… it doesn’t work, between us. Not really. Not for long.”

[velvet4510]

Please reblog for a bigger sample size. :)

[if-i-eated-soaps]

I’M RIDING A TRAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME

[kingdumkum]

something i’ve discovered in the course of editing is that “dove” and “dived” are both grammatically correct past tense conjugations of “to dive” BUT the difference is that “dove” is more common in American English/literature and “dived” is more prevalent in British English/literature so i’m curious:

what kind of books (american v. british) do you read most and has it impacted your diction?

[alister312]

wanted to practice some fun expressions so i drew some of my next gen kids

[stangender]

im visiting the usa later this year and im genuinely considering adding a stop in colorado if my budget allows it i think going to fairplay would be fun

[chotachica]

CRAIG IN BOTH THE PANDEMIC EPISODES LMFAOOOJHKTDKK

[thotteus-beaumont]

Somebody please do a South Park Dreamcatcher by Stephen King AU because there's so much potential. They fit that ridiculous horror with odd comedy so well.....

I don't know the South Park characters well enough to draw who'd be who out of the characters but somebody out there does SO👀

I could see Kenny as Beaver...

Maybe Stan or Craig as Pete...

I don't know! The ships from Dreamcatcher might have to be changed around for the sake of this specific AU?😬

[3liza]

https://nationalpost.com/news/canada/theyre-not-human-how-19th-century-inuit-coped-with-a-real-life-invasion-of-the-walking-dead

Indigenous groups across the Americas had all encountered Europeans differently. But where other coastal groups such as the Haida or the Mi’kmaq had met white men who were well-fed and well-dressed, the Inuit frequently encountered their future colonizers as small parties on the edge of death.

“I’m sure it terrified people,” said Eber, 91, speaking to the National Post by phone from her Toronto home.

And it’s why, as many as six generations after the events of the Franklin Expedition, Eber was meeting Inuit still raised on stories of the two giant ships that came to the Arctic and discharged columns of death onto the ice.

Inuit nomads had come across streams of men that “didn’t seem to be right.” Maddened by scurvy, botulism or desperation, they were raving in a language the Inuit couldn’t understand. In one case, hunters came across two Franklin Expedition survivors who had been sleeping for days in the hollowed-out corpses of seals.

“They were unrecognizable they were so dirty,” Lena Kingmiatook, a resident of Taloyoak, told Eber.

Mark Tootiak, a stepson of Nicholas Qayutinuaq, related a story to Eber of a group of Inuit who had an early encounter with a small and “hairy” group of Franklin Expedition men evacuating south.

“Later … these Inuit heard that people had seen more white people, a lot more white people, dying,” he said. “They were seen carrying human meat.”

Even Eber’s translator, the late Tommy Anguttitauruq, recounted a goose hunting trip in which he had stumbled upon a Franklin Expedition skeleton still carrying a clay pipe.

By 1850, coves and beaches around King William Island were littered with the disturbing remnants of their advance: Scraps of clothing and camps still littered with their dead occupants. Decades later, researchers would confirm the Inuit accounts of cannibalism when they found bleached human bones with their flesh hacked clean.

“I’ve never in all my life seen any kind of spirit — I’ve heard the sounds they make, but I’ve never seen them with my own eyes,” said the old man who had gone out to investigate the Franklin survivors who had straggled into his camp that day on King William Island.

The figures’ skin was cold but it was not “cold as a fish,” concluded the man. Therefore, he reasoned, they were probably alive.

“They were beings but not Inuit,” he said, according to the account by shaman Nicholas Qayutinuaq.

The figures were too weak to be dangerous, so Inuit women tried to comfort the strangers by inviting them into their igloo.

But close contact only increased their alienness: The men were timid, untalkative and — despite their obvious starvation — they refused to eat.

The men spit out pieces of cooked seal offered to them. They rejected offers of soup. They grabbed jealous hold of their belongings when the Inuit offered to trade.

When the Inuit men returned to the camp from their hunt, they constructed an igloo for the strangers, built them a fire and even outfitted the shelter with three whole seals.

Then, after the white men had gone to sleep, the Inuit quickly packed up their belongings and fled by moonlight.

Whether the pale-skinned visitors were qallunaat or “Indians” — the group determined that staying too long around these “strange people” with iron knives could get them all killed.

“That night they got all their belongings together and took off towards the southwest,” Qayutinuaq told Dorothy Eber.

But the true horror of the encounter wouldn’t be revealed until several months later.

The Inuit had left in such a hurry that they had abandoned several belongings. When a small party went back to the camp to retrieve them, they found an igloo filled with corpses.

The seals were untouched. Instead, the men had eaten each other.

[enigmaris]

DPxDC idea that has been floating around my head for a few months now:

Gotham, given its whole... thing with Lazurus Pools and general bad vibes, has a ghostly representative. Lady Gotham, when she bothers to be coporeal, looks like an influential lady from the 1920s, straight art deco elegance. A real classy girl.

Jazz is touring college campuses around the US. She has full ride offers from Gotham University, Metroplis College, and Star City State, to name a few. Danny, upon hearing that his sister is going to GOTHAM of all cities, decides he is going on this trip with her. He might be only 15, but his big sister isn't getting mugged while he has half an afterlife left to live!

Lady Gotham is all a flutter! Why the last ghost king was so frumpy! King Phantom is so handsome and powerful, and he is coming to her city. She absolutely has to show off her best side! She feels like a teenaged girl getting her home ready before a new beau comes to visit. She's flustered, she's nervous.

Meanwhile, John Constatine wakes up with cosmic alarm bells going off because something really, really bad is happening. He investigates to dicsover that for the past three days Gotham has not had a single crime.

No murders, muggings, hell not even a single jay walker!

Gotham the most cursed place on the North Or South American continent is suddenly more squeaky clean than whatever small farm town Superman grew up in.

No crimes, no smog in the air. Crime Lords seemingly gone in a puff of smoke, Assassins asleep in their beds.

Its so freaky. Even Batman is spooked and he is never spooked by anything.

Constantine is certain some demon or other nefarious being is harnessing Gothams cursed energy for some evil plot. Gathering the power to use it like a nuclear blast. Batman is concerned about mass mind control.

Lady Gotham is doing the metaphysical equivalent of hiding all of your stuff in a closet before a guest comes over because you dont have time to actually clean. She had to shoulder the thing closed! She just knows that when the lock fails there will be a huge mess.

Jazz and her family are just surprised about how nice Gotham U's campus is. She'd heard it was so dark and dangerous, but everyone is smiling and pleasant to her! Danny is just happy Jazz is safe from various villains.

So we have Batman investigating his rogues gallery for mind control plots, Constatine hunting for demons, Jazz and her family taking a walking tour of Gotham U, and Lady Gotham using every bit of her ghostly powers to make sure her damned, cursed city doesnt embarrass her in front of her crush!

[fursasaida]

This article is from 2022, but it came up in the context of Palestine:

Here are some striking passages, relevant to all colonial aftermaths but certainly also to the forms we see Zionist reaction taking at the moment:

Over the decade I lived in South Africa, I became fascinated by this white minority [i.e. the whole white population post-apartheid as a minority in the country], particularly its members who considered themselves progressive. They reminded me of my liberal peers in America, who had an apparently self-assured enthusiasm about the coming of a so-called majority-minority nation. As with white South Africans who had celebrated the end of apartheid, their enthusiasm often belied, just beneath the surface, a striking degree of fear, bewilderment, disillusionment, and dread.

[...]

Yet these progressives’ response to the end of apartheid was ambivalent. Contemplating South Africa after apartheid, an Economist correspondent observed that “the lives of many whites exude sadness.” The phenomenon perplexed him. In so many ways, white life remained more or less untouched, or had even improved. Despite apartheid’s horrors—and the regime’s violence against those who worked to dismantle it—the ANC encouraged an attitude of forgiveness. It left statues of Afrikaner heroes standing and helped institute the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which granted amnesty to some perpetrators of apartheid-era political crimes.

But as time wore on, even wealthy white South Africans began to radiate a degree of fear and frustration that did not match any simple economic analysis of their situation. A startling number of formerly anti-apartheid white people began to voice bitter criticisms of post-apartheid society. An Afrikaner poet who did prison time under apartheid for aiding the Black-liberation cause wrote an essay denouncing the new Black-led country as “a sewer of betrayed expectations and thievery, fear and unbridled greed.”

What accounted for this disillusionment? Many white South Africans told me that Black forgiveness felt like a slap on the face. By not acting toward you as you acted toward us, we’re showing you up, white South Africans seemed to hear. You’ll owe us a debt of gratitude forever.

The article goes on to discuss:

"Mau Mau anxiety," or the fear among whites of violent repercussions, and how this shows up in reported vs confirmed crime stats - possibly to the point of false memories of home invasion

A sense of irrelevance and alienation among this white population, leading to another anxiety: "do we still belong here?"

The sublimation of this anxiety into self-identification as a marginalized minority group, featuring such incredible statements as "I wanted to fight for Afrikaners, but I came to think of myself as a ‘liberal internationalist,’ not a white racist...I found such inspiration from the struggles of the Catalonians and the Basques. Even Tibet" and "[Martin Luther] King [Jr.] also fought for a people without much political representation … That’s why I consider him one of my most important forebears and heroes,” from a self-declared liberal environmentalist who also thinks Afrikaaners should take back government control because they are "naturally good" at governance

Some discussion of the dynamics underlying these reactions, particularly the fact that "admitting past sins seem[ed] to become harder even as they receded into history," and US parallels

And finally, in closing:

The Afrikaner journalist Rian Malan, who opposed apartheid, has written that, by most measures, its aftermath went better than almost any white person could have imagined. But, as with most white progressives, his experience of post-1994 South Africa has been complicated. [...]

He just couldn’t forgive Black people for forgiving him. Paradoxically, being left undisturbed served as an ever-present reminder of his guilt, of how wrongly he had treated his maid and other Black people under apartheid. “The Bible was right about a thing or two,” he wrote. “It is infinitely worse to receive than to give, especially if … the gift is mercy.”