#and this year I turn 22

[courtmartialme]

smiling rizas in my 2023 art :-)

[anna-scribbles]

they should've been at the club(infertility treatment centers)

[erabu-san]

Drawing one of my most iconic OC of my adolescence : Haki 🤭

How he was in 2018 and 2017 :

He is now adult because I also grow up meanwhile 😔

[lazylittledragon]

i call this outfit “golfcore”

[onegroovyrose]

Happy Lunar New Year 2024!! 🥳🐉

[marimbles]

I’m not like other 22 year olds…I’m 29

[sleepitawaydear]

cake tastes like loneliness

[mishy-mashy]

Shinomori is cute. Here's a post.

He is so baby-faced. He hasn't changed at all since he was 22, to when he died of "old age" at 40

(Old age? With a face like that? 40 years old?? Gimme that kind of youth and hotness Shinomori-)

He has tiny eyebrows. Like a puppy's (rottweiler's, for example). So cute and tiny and fuffy

He naturally frowns. Look at him and his mouth and his lil nose

He has a thing about keeping his arms near his chest. He sits with his arms crossed, introduces himself with his hands over his torso, and even walks with his arms crossed toward Midoriya

He has such clear skin for someone who lived the rest of his life in a forest??? Why do Hikage and Yoichi have such nice skin despite living in terrible environments? (forest and vault + abandoned streets respectively)

Is easily scared

They knew their Quirks could be used, but Shinomori got scared of it when it happened. Even though he gave Midoriya his support and access to his Quirk beforehand. Depending on the translation; "it startled me", "you scared me", "it surprised me"

I'm not going to hold running from AFO against him because he knew he was running for his life. Who wouldn't run for their life when it's in danger? Shinomori was being chased by the strongest person in the country (and likely the world)

His sense of self-preservation is probably heightened by the nature of his Quirk to keep him out of danger too. Which makes him all the more sensitive and jumpy to danger and anything that startles him, especially when he has no warning

He's actually extremely tall, but is so socially inept and jumpy it's adorable. He's taller than Bruce.

Bruce is as tall as a vault door that the 2m AFO used.

(Meanwhile Kudo is down there-)

He has such a bad sense of humor that it's cute (his puns off Danger Sense)

It's also adorable how Shinomori just doesn't understand social conventions sometimes. He lived in a forest, so it made sense, but also— Midoriya shows up in the void to the vestige platform for the first time. He has no mouth, no clothes—and Shinomori's first idea is to stand in front of him menacingly and go: "I shall explain. I am Shinomori Hikage." SIRRRR

This.

His Ability is basically like glorified anxiety. What if something is coming to hurt him? If something can hurt him? What if that tree falls while he's under it? And the ideas come so hard they hurt (although yes, it does detect ill intent and that's what sets it off)

He talks weirdly. Formal? Old-fashioned? Listening to him speak Japanese compared to others, it just sounds a bit different. (Translated subs don't show it very well, it's the voice itself methinks)

"This too, is destiny." *about Midoriya having OFA*

Kinda wise or sage-y. He did spend his life in solitude in the forests so he definitely spent a lot of time with his own thoughts. Maybe he found the meaning of life in a centipede or something one day

For someone so cute, he is also such. A fine. Specimen???

Look at those back muscles, dang.

LOOK AT HIS CALVES AND ARMS DANG.

[sennaverstappen]

i think girl max and girl charles would get married within a year of them dating. would it turn out well? well, thats not up to me.

[coquelicoq]

yeah natori is 23 and since matoba is one year younger, he's 22 at the very start of the manga/anime :))) i think it was like around season 3 of natsume when i learned this and went ????????????? and had to go lie down for a while

unacceptable. midorikawa-sensei answer for your crimes. the thing that's killing me currently is i know i learned this information back when i read a bunch of fic after watching the show for the first time - which was less than a year ago - but apparently REPRESSED IT because it was sooo does not compute. and then had to learn it all over again just recently. my poor brain tried so hard to protect me from this knowledge but alas.

FREE THEM they're baby adults they should not have this kind of weight on their shoulders and have like. employees and shit!!! "oh look a dumbass teenager with a heart of gold. how about i protect him with my life" HOW ABOUT YOU WORRY ABOUT YOURSELF YOU MAN-SIZED CATERPILLAR!!! they need to be in their cocoon era not in their head-of-the-family life-and-death-decision-making era. when you're 22 you're legally obligated to make questionable life choices and it seems self-evident you should not have to be forming lifelong contracts with supernatural beings until after you've gotten some of that out of your system but WHAT DO I KNOW, i'm just a thirtysomething with over a decade on natori who still does the modern-day equivalent of unplugging my answering machine so people can't leave me cursed voicemails. i look back on my 23yo self and i want to cry from how much she was learning and how hard she was trying. i love her so much it breaks my heart. stop putting these young men into situations they need to be in situations but maybe ones less fraught with mortal consequences. maybe some situations more along the lines of figuring out the hard way not to buy dryclean-only shirts because who has time to go to the drycleaners? that's just one idea, i've got more of these. midorikawa-sensei are you listening??

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

The scariest thing about being the same person for 5 years straight is that some people are 5 years older than when I met them. This is extra scary because if I assume no one was using tumblr despite being below 13, that means they're all legal adults now every single one all of them that's bonkers. You used to be 13. How could this happen.

[maniacjohnny]

I passed my driver’s test today + got my license. The discord was very excited for me.

the children: @banana-zim @mybrainisbigpoop @zootzar

[batri-jopa]

Thank you @chrisoels for tagging me in a Picrew challenge!

Here are the rules: make yourself as a kid, teen, young adult and now, using this Picrew, use your favorite color at the time as a background, and tag some people.

Tagging, if you'd like to try: @zorilleerrant , @figuringthengsout , @ourtintedworld

[tennessoui]

ganymede & zeus but make it obikin

been a while since i did a ficlet for tumblr....this comes out of a discord convo about ganymede!anakin and zeus!obi-wan......sort of dark tho gods are horrible beings with no boundaries

(for @jswander ) (2.3k)

Every muscle in Anakin’s body feels overextended and sore. He cries out from the sensation upon waking, instinctively trying to curl in on himself—anything to get away from the pain.

“Hush now,” a voice above him and below him and around him says. “None of that, beloved,” it speaks again when Anakin fights to tear open his eyes. “Sleep.”

There is nothing Anakin wants to do simultaneously more and less, but he’s never submitted under another’s thumb without a fight. With a great push of effort, he arches his back up, off the comfortable surface he’s laying on. And with what remains of his will, he wrenches his eyes open to survey his surroundings.

He cannot see a thing. White fills his vision, so bright and heated that it feels as if he is burning from the inside out, as if his very being is disintegrating the longer he looks at the light. It is blinding. It is everything. He cannot look away, nor can he close his eyes. His mouth has fallen open and he can hear himself screaming from the pain of it all, the radiance of the being in front of him.

“You stupid boy,” the voice snaps, sounding absolutely furious as the light coalesces into one solid shape, something that looks like a chest, then an arm, then a hand reaching towards him.

Anakin tries to scramble back, away from what will surely feel like a brand against his skin—and oh gods, doess he know what that feels like—but the hand extends faster than he can move, and even when he turns his head away, it catches him. It covers his eyes.

“Drink,” the voice murmurs, reverberating around him. Only then does Anakin notice that a cup has been brought to his lips. His lips seel themselves into a firm line. No. No. “You stupid child,” the voice snaps, “Do as you are told.”

It is the sheer power in the command that causes Anakin to open his mouth, to tip his head back. He is the lion among men, the Conqueror with No Fear, the Queen of Naboo’s Chosen Warrior, and yet—he opens his mouth and yields to the voice, to the hand over his eyes that burns. It feels like renewal, not pain, though that may be because every other part of his body still feels as if it is on fire, the aches from the first few moments of consciousness burning to ash under the pain of that radiance.

“Sleep,” the voice commands, and this time Anakin can do nothing but listen.

—---------

When he awakens next, he can tell from the breeze in the air that he has been moved. It is cool, and the breeze brushes against his skin like a gentle friend, running over his body to reach every part of him.

It is then he realizes that someone has stripped him of his clothes, his armor. He had been wearing armor. He had been preparing to lead his men into battle. He had—

The breeze in the air twirls around his chest and neck, caressing his skin until his nipples stiffen into peaks from the cold. Almost distantly, it sounds as if someone is laughing, an exhale over and over again that conveys their mirth, and Anakin can suddenly feel the breeze on his lips like a lover’s breath.

“Eurus, out,” a voice roars from somewhere that is everywhere and nowhere all at once. Anakin quakes from the sound of it, but the breeze withdraws, tosses out one last laugh that sounds almost like a cackle, before seemingly winking out of existence.

Anakin lies carefully still. The fabric beneath him feels soft, slippery. He’d been to the palace of Naboo only once to pay respect to the queen he fought his wars in the name of. Her personal chambers had been draped in a material that felt similar. So soft that it had felt then almost uncomfortable to touch. 

Anakin had been born a slave. He did not know soft things, nor how to languish against them. The queen had tried to show him how, had made such a persistent overture in the name of pleasure that he had sworn his loyalty to her name—but, privately, to her figure against those silks, the line of her throat, the tilt of her chin as she gave ground and submitted to his desires—and yet he still could never relax in the comfort her status and love had offered. He was not made for it.

He was not made for these silks either, though they certainly felt different against his skin. 

“You are too perfect for your own good, my darling,” the voice says quietly, a hand running through Anakin’s hair carefully. The motion is one filled with strange devotion. Tenderness. “Your beauty could start a war amongst the gods themselves, for they would all like to take you, to have you. Yet you are mine.” 

Anakin can feel his heart stutter at this declaration. The touch of his hair is no longer tender. It is proprietary. He opens his mouth, wets his lips. “I am no one’s,” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking. 

His defiance makes the voice laugh, a rich sound that reminds Anakin of the sounds of rocks tumbling down a mountainside. “You have sworn yourself to me, Anakin Skywalker, of course you are mine.”

“You are not my queen—“

“You would be wise to not speak of your infidelities so casually,” the voice snaps, and the hairs on Anakin’s arms stand as the air seems to fill with electricity. “You have no queen here.” 

Anakin is silent, his mind and heart racing. Has he been captured? Is he a slave again? He would rather die. 

“Open your eyes, darling. Look upon me and allow me to see the reward of my labor,” the voice turns soft again, coaxing, and the hand leaves his hair to trail down the side of his face, thumb brushing over the bow of his lips.

“Hurt,” Anakin manages to say. The thumb takes his parted lips as invitation and presses into his mouth to rest against his teeth. Anakin thinks about biting it, but there is something inside him that screams at him to be careful. To tread carefully around this voice. This man.

“I know,” the voice croons, “and I apologize for it, treasure. I had not expected you to wake so soon after your ordeal and was not prepared. Humans cannot bear to look upon my godly form. Those who have have perished. You have frightened me with your recklessness.” 

The thumb presses down hard before it withdraws.

“Open your eyes, Anakin,” the voice says. “Your king demands it.” 

Gingerly, carefully, Anakin opens his eyes.

He is met immediately with the sight of a man leaning over him. His face is lined with a well-kept beard, short and practical and dark red. His hair too is the same color of russet, pushed up and off his forehead in a rakish cut. His eyes though—Anakin cannot look away from them. They are glittering, electric blue. No—they are the color of the sky before a thunderstorm, whirling points of gray and dark blue. No—they the early morning sky in the north of Naboo, slate gray and bright.

“Hello there, darling,” the man says. He strokes Anakin’s cheek again, resting his broad hand against his skin.

Anakin can do nothing but stare. This man—he is handsome beyond imagination, but there is something in the set of his face, the jut of his lips, his jaw—perhaps something in his eyes that screams danger.

He is so perfect that he is almost unreal.

“I will miss the blue of your eyes,” the man murmurs, looking at him intently. Critically.

Hungrily.

“What?” Anakin whispers.

The man continues as if he has not heard him. “Yet there is something deeply satisfying in seeing your eyes stained gold from my blood. You wear it well, darling, your godhood.”

Anakin shakes his head. The man’s words—they do not make sense though he says them in the manner any sane man speaks. 

“Truly you were born to be mine,” the man whispers like a sacred declaration, and this finally causes Anakin to flinch away.

“I am no one’s,” he says again, shifting off the fabrics and pushing himself to stand. He was wrong earlier—he is not fully nude, though he thinks he’d prefer to be. There is a cloth like a skirt around his hips, though the fabric only covers the area between his legs, held together by clasps that lay against his hips. And even then, it is light and transparent and doing little to protect his modesty. His chest is bare, but his upper arms have been wrapped in gold coils, one short and one extending almost to his elbow.

The man before him has dressed him as a child would dress a doll and it infuriates him. He is Anakin Skywalker, a lion among men, and he will not suffer this.

“I am no one’s,” he declares with a snarl, turning upon the man and striding forward. “Release me at once!”

The man arches a singular eyebrow but otherwise appears completely unaffected. Anakin feels like roaring, like taking his face into his hands and ripping it apart. 

“Where am I?” He interrogates as he stalks towards the man. Though he is handsome and though he appears strong, his bare torso as visible as Anakin’s and just as well-muscled, Anakin is a warrior and broader than this man, taller too.

Anakin can beat him into submission. 

“Why have you taken me? Return me at once, and I will let you live! I am Anakin Skywalker, I am the Resolute, I am the warrior with no fear and the Queen’s intended. I—”

The man, whose face had been unflinching in response to Anakin’s threats, stands at the mention of the queen, beautiful features twisting into a wicked snarl as he suddenly meets Anakin in the middle. The temperature in the room grows cold and the air becomes heavy with electricity. With something that Anakin does not know how to name.

“If you mention your queen once more, I will kill her,” the man bites out, every word weighted with promise. “I will kill her and see her soul damned to Tartarus. I will take her there myself and string her up amongst her kin. Thieves and pillagers and all those mortals who were foolish enough to attempt to steal from the king of the gods.”

Anakin flinches away, some long buried instinct in him insisting that he put space between himseslf and the predator staring down at him. “Who—who are you?” he asks, question catching in his throat. 

The man’s eyes, stormy blue now and swirling in his rage, lighten at the question. His mouth relaxes. He appears to enjoy answering, for he takes his time with it. “I find myself offended that you have forgotten,” he says, moving to touch Anakin again.

Like a frightened rabbit that knows it has found itself in the jaws of a lion, Anakin lets the bejeweled hands cup his face.

“I am the man who bought you and your mother from your masters when you were but a child. And I am the boy who sold you fruits that never seemed to bruise, no matter how you handled them as you walked home. I am the cat that lurked outside the god king’s temple as you prayed to him for strength and skill and riches, promised yourself to him in return, promised to wage every war in his name, conquer in his colors. And I am the old man who trained you in battle, showed you how to fight and kill and conquer.”

Anakin shakes his head, struck speechless at these words. They are the ramblings of an insane man, but…but this man knows too much about him. No one knows that he was born a slave. Even when he fucked Padmé, he had made sure that she could not see the brand on his leg.

He latches onto the last words, shaking his head harder. “Ben was a crippled old man. You are—” handsome, is the only word that comes to mind.

As if the man has heard it in his head, he grins, gifting him with a flash of white teeth. “Yes, he was, wasn’t he? And you were so young then, all of eighteen years old and eager to prove yourself. I thought if I took my most preferred form, this form, you would never pay attention to my lessons. And I knew if you had offered yourself to me then, I would not have turned you down. Nor would I have let you leave.” Anakin shakes his head once more, but there’s no power in the motion.

“I was the eagle that flew above you as marched into battle, and I was the handmaiden who bore witness to your betrayal, when you promised yourself to the queen of Naboo, as if you had not already promised yourself to me.”

The scowl has returned, marring the man’s perfect features.

Anakin swallows, wetting his lips. “I promised myself to the king of the gods,” he whispers. “To Kenobi.”

“And he has made good on your promise,” the man smiles, one hand falling from his face to cup his neck. “He has taken you from your battlefield, delivered you to Mount Olympus. I have taken you as mine, I have taken what is mine.”

Deep within Anakin, he knows that the man before him speaks the truth. That he is no man at all. That—that—that he is—

“Kenobi,” he whispers, and the king of the gods lets his eyes flutter shut as if he hearing his name from Anakin’s lips causes him great pleasure.

“Yes,” Kenobi growls, adjusting his hold on him to tug him closer to his body.

Anakin is touching a god. A god is touching Anakin. The king of the gods has taken him from the battlefield, from the arms of his bride to be, from the mortal realm all together.

And he is holding him like he has no intention of letting him go.

[moongothic]

So I have a Crocodile theory that I've been sitting on for a while. I have absolutely nothing to prove any of it whatsoever, and the only thing that really propels me to believe in it is that I think it would be cool if it were true.

I think Crocodile may have gotten his start as a cabin boy for the Rocks Pirates the same way Shanks and Buggy got their start with Roger. The trust issues would naturally follow from the way the Rocks Pirates probably turned on each other immediately following Rocks' death during the God Valley Incident. Seeing the crew you grew up on turn in on itself would make anyone wary of trusting others I think. It might also explain a portion of the animosity he had for Whitebeard as well. Obviously a lot of it comes from their clash during Croc's warlord days, but it might explain why he was so eager to go after Whitebeard in the first place. Him being at God Valley would also provide a solid point where he could have run into Ivankov, and potentially where Ivankov could have gotten some dirt on him, depending on whatever that dirt ends up being in Canon.

Even wilder speculation, but I think Mihawk might have been there as well. The two just seem to have this weird, unexplained rapport that doesn't yield itself to a whole lot of options other than a previous connection. They get in a fight at Marineford, and Crocodile walks away alive despite him being well below Mihawk's level. Croc feels it's enough to just let Mihawk know he's "in a real bad mood" and that seems to do the trick. Mihawk is the first person Crocodile talks to about his Cross Guild venture, and Mihawk doesn't take long to take him up on it. And Mihawk, in general, also just kind of lets Crocodile talk at him a lot for someone who was introduced to us as a person who would hunt you down for just interrupting his nap.

Like I said, I don't have a shred of evidence for any of this at all, but I do think it would be cool, and might explain a few things.

"Would be cool if true" THIS IS WHAT FUN THEORIES ARE BASED ON 👏👏👏 We're HERE to get EXCITED about COOL IDEAS

Honestly I much prefer "random cabin boy for Xebec" over Xebec's son on just vibes alone, but also it'd make Crocodile losing interest on Whitebeard in Marineford much more palatable. Because if Whitebeard betrayed his dad on top of kicking his ass then surely he wouldn't assist in saving Ace, regardless of what his relationship with Luffy and/or the Revs may or may not have been. But if he was a cabin boy, yeah, that'd give him the trust issues but without it being THAT personal

Not sure if Mihawk would've been on the same ship though... IDK looking at the bby Shichibukai art, bby Hawk looks quite messy and disheveled compared to bby Croc- if they were raised in similar circumstances on Xebec' ship you'd think their art would look about the same. Also if I'm not misremembering, Crocodile would've been 9 during the God Valley incident, and Mihawk is 3 years younger than him so he would've been just 6. I dunno, if anything I'd be more willing to bet money on Moria having been on the ship with Crocodile instead (since he would've been like 13, and based on bby Moria's art he looks like he kinda matches with Crocodile, that said there's nothing to prove the two have any kind of shared history whatsoever)... But yeah, if Mihawk was 6 at the time, I kind of doubt they were BOTH on Xebec's ship

That said. I'm fucking sure Crocodile and Mihawk have SOME kind of shared history. There's gotta be fucking SOMETHING, at SOME POINT, because yeah, as you said

Crocodile telling Mihawk he's in a shit mood is a passable warning to give to from like One Dangerous Warlord to Another, but it takes on a whole different tone if they knew each other a bit closer

Who knows, maybe they were both cabin boys on the same ship for someone else a few years later though, hell, for all we know Mihawk could've been on Crocodile's crew for a time

Also based on Kuma's flashback, we do see Kuma visit Mihawk's island in chapter 1099, and in 1100 when Mihawk sees the news of Kuma joining, he's awfully quiet. So if Mihawk and Kuma may have known each other even just briefly, yeah. Why the fuck couldn't Mihawk and Crocodile have some history too.

There's also this bit from Croc and Hawk's phonecall that interests me

The "..." in the flashback panel

Like it's very normal for Oda to signal a character is thinking about something without saying anything about it by doing the little "..." (for example, Robin would've been well-aware of Moria as she did work for a Warlord herself, making this panel from Thriller Bark quite interesting), hell the phonecall flashback both begins and ends with Mihawk having simple "..." thought bubbles as he's thinking back to it

But the fact that he's Having A Thought about Crocodile being like "we're the same bro"... Oh they gotta have somekinda shared backstory somewhere, they've gotta, surely

And indeed, despite the fact that the two aren't supposed to trust anyone, they sure seem to trust each other enough to start a marine hunting organization together

(Also an interesting detail that, since we know they both hate the Marines a lot, so them starting an organization with that shared goal is just. Yeah. Interesting.)

One additional note I wanted to make because I just noticed this while browsing the Wiki; of the OG Warlords Mihawk is one of the few who we have no idea when he joined the Shichibukai, the only other one being Moria

I really would be curious to hear when and how Mihawk joined, 'cause for all we know, he might've joined around the same time Crocodile did, which would definitely be interesting...

Man. Like I'm not particularly interested in Mihawk's backstory on its own, but if his backstory was somehow tied to Crocodile's... Oh I'd absolutely love to hear it. ODA PLEASE, SPILL THE BEANS

[fernsproutxx]

i’m here alone in my room really giggling every time i give my bootleg springtrap plushie a lil smooch huh