So after going through the entire Kingdom Hearts series, I’ve noticed
something. King Mickey was not born royalty; he married into royalty by
screwing around with the world order.
Mickey originally comes
from Timeless River, the “Steamboat Willie”-themed world where he’s a
deckhand with a reputation for being a lazy troublemaker. Nobody
mentions any kind of existing royalty in that world, and certainly
nobody treats Mickey like a prince, lazy or otherwise. We see early
versions of Pete, Horace Horsecollar, Clara Cluck, etc. but do you notice someone missing?
Minnie is not from Timeless River.
Minnie is princess of the Country
of the Musketeers, the “Three Musketeers”-themed world from Dream Drop Distance. We see
a younger Mickey here training to be a Musketeer on princess guard duty
but we know he isn’t native because he tells Sora as much. He doesn’t
understand when Sora calls him “Your Majesty”. If Mickey was a prince of
any kind, that title wouldn’t be weird. It’s also clear that this world
is not a version of Timeless River. (Though it does have a version of
Pete, which may or may not be the same Pete from the rest of the series considering he has a
peg leg in Country of the Musketeers. It’s kinda hard to grow back a leg. Then again, this is a series that runs on bloodless carnage and where people regularly come back from the dead, so who knows?)
later, in Yen Sid’s tower, we see an inexperienced Mickey as the
sorcerer’s apprentice. Again, Sora instinctively starts with “Your
Majesty” and Mickey is confused.
By the time Birth By Sleep rolls
around, Mickey is still an apprentice to Yen Sid but he’s a king now. He
and Minnie rule over Disney Town during the Million Dreams Festival, which is the newer incarnation of
Timeless River. And is not at all a shameless plug for Disneyland or reference to the Disney parks’ Year of a Million Dreams, up to
and including Ven being given actual goddamn park tickets.
(No I will not get over the blatant self-advertising.)
Disney Town goes on to become Disney Castle from KH1
So basically, Mickey pulled Minnie out of her own world and
back to his, where she reigned as queen and he married her and became
king. So that means that all these regal-looking pictures of mice on the
…are MINNIE’S ancestors, not Mickey’s. And also, since Disney
Castle was not inherited but was built during their lifetime, those
little 3-circle mouse heads everywhere?
Either it’s Mickey being phenomenally narcissistic, or more likely, they’re the royal seal of
So the worlds have to stay separated and their existences have to stay secret, right, Mick?
Unless you find a hot girl. Then you can totally bring her back to yours.
Today was weigh-in day and man was it a great one.
I am officially my lowest weight ever since starting this weight loss journey.
So so excited and proud of myself for staying on track all last week.
I seriously got lazy with working out last week, but I refused to let the eating go. There were many times I declined sweets and took note that I wasn’t hungry and just because it was a meal time didn’t mean I had to eat.
summary: she’s just a barista, and he’s just a silent regular. hungry for companionship.
note: so i was watching ‘little miss sunshine’ and now look- ❀
in all the years her parents have owned this wholesome, dimly lit coffee house, one that once stood as her great grandparents home, sakura isn’t certain if the place ever seems quite as sleepy- as calm- as it does when he walks in.
he is one of four midnight regulars. two old men, playing go and bickering over their good for nothing children: jasmine tea. a young doctor, who sifts through her charts and skims quietly over unread messages: black coffee.
and then there’s him, always nose deep in a book, or scribbling half lidded little nothings in napkins or the occasional notebook. his university studies, she notes one day, revolve around chemistry and neurology, though he seems to favor books concerning the writings of anyone from sun tzu to nietzsche. his patronage is newer than that of the old men, and even the doctor, though it’s a religious one. each night before their two am closing, he arrives just around the turn of day, tired eyed, wielding either a serious stack of textbooks or a single copy of reading material. wordlessly, he occupies the same corner table by the window. and when it comes time to take his order, he only presents a notepad with a single note messily scrawled across it: kocha (black tea.)
“he’s a mute,” her mother speculates one day to her, in french, hands cleaning the contents of a teacup like second nature. “must be scarred.”
“mah mah,” her father responds, in japanese, “just quiet.”
sakura says nothing, eyes steady on him as his black eyes flicker with eerie awareness toward them before swiftly turning back toward his book. she’s never felt quite so bad for her mother’s chattering.