#fair warning now

[sugucidal]

just a heads up, i am not gonna act normal when episode 1 of jjk s2 is out.

[ewwww-what]

Do you think it’s possible that my god is Kristen?

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Danny Phantom doesn’t want to be king.

And the Observants also don’t want him to be king.

Frankly, very VERY few people want him to be king, dead or alive.

But opening the sarcophagus, even if it’s closed NOW, disrupted some magic protections. Until those can be fixed, summoning spells need to be answered by SOMEONE. Not all of summons, just like—once a month or so. Because if they don’t let that power outlet happen, all of those summon magics build up and suddenly Pariah Dark reigns again. Answering the summon basically dispels the built up magic, like opening a dam.

Again, Danny doesn’t WANT to do this either, but everyone else involved is a bad choice. He won’t even be named prince, because THEN that implies he COULD be king. He needs a title, of some kind, a position in the court, no matter how tenuous, so he can do the thing. Something where no one in their right or even WRONG mind would think to try to kill him for the position or try to marry him or something equally annoying to deal with.

So.

He becomes the Ghost Court Jester.

He even gets a fancy little outfit upgrade when he’s summoned, all black and white bell hats and shoes, a stupid little ruffle collar and black parachute pants, even face paint with a tiny dot of glowing neon green at the tip of his nose. The works. Better yet, if he hasn’t been ‘unsummoned’, his human form is just the exact same costume with swapped colors. He can change into his normal outfits, but until that circle has been disrupted, the next summon, or the next full or new moon, he’s stuck into the outfit when he first transforms from either form.

The Phantom Jester, which is a title more intimidating than Danny appears to be if we are to be honest, cracks jokes and never, EVER takes the summons seriously.

“Listen, I just had to get my hours in and it’s the last day of the lunar month, you got lucky I came at all.”

“I got the position by virtue of not wanting to go to Time Jail for a crime I technically didn’t commit and technically probably won’t but, well, eyes are the beholder of the grudge or something else equally cryptic to make you mad.”

“Is this a slumber party? … do you have cake? Bummer. Well, enjoy the bleeding walls then.”

“Whether I help you or not is entirely dependent on how well of a run down you can give me on this book I have to read that I have not at all touched.”

“Explain the reason in three sentences or less. I suggest less. And if it’s stupid I’m hitting you—oh you think this circle can contain me? Haha. It won’t.”

“Is that chicken blood? Why?? What did the chickens do to you?”

There are props in his costume but he literally never knows what he’s gonna pull out of his sleeves. Danny can’t even do a balloon animal and knows exactly zero card tricks, which would be more of an issue if the cards weren’t the size of a dinner plate. He barely even juggles and he’s honestly probably just utilizing his rarely-used telekinetic powers, but he does give people flowers if they haven’t been a total jerk. And if those flowers are like, rare and have seeds for propagation, well… he literally wouldn’t know. No, really, he doesn’t. He gets summoned by at least two ecology departments and he has no idea why, I mean, if he had a nickel—

He also had pies and is NOT afraid to use them.

[icarianstars]

Before Regulus entered the cave, he stood outside it on the rocky cliff and watched as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in orange and gold. He whispered a final goodbye to James, and for the first time in over a year, he let himself cry.

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

not a threat but uhhh do any of yall play tf2 and would any of yall want to. play it with me?

[hannibalsjuicyass]

Gonna resurrect the Stargate fandom 2023 who’s with me

[saint-nevermore]

a pair of drakes get in a disagreement over a basking spot

[magnusbae]

Hi! What about "Can you stay with me?" (and if you'd like it my bonus prompt is "drunk") 💗

The initial draft was written while I was quite literally fainting late at night & the second one fully rewritten while I am dazed and out of it. I would say that I was method writing Obi-Wan who is indeed very much drunk in this one, dearest anon. Thank you for the prompt~ 😊💖

+++

Obikin || 4,004w || Drunk Obi-Wan is agonized by the prospect of his freshly knighted Padawan leaving him behind— and more. 😌 Some flavors of gentle lime in this drink, very light, very sweet. 🍋💖

▾▾▾

"Can you stay with me?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi sounds properly pathetic and he knows it. Grasping at Anakin’s Tabards as he is, mind swirling in hazy circles around the notion he was doing his very best to avoid thinking about for the past few months. It is not long now that Anakin would look at his Master and see him for what he really was. Perhaps even today. Inebriated as he is, he makes for a good serving of disillusionment. All Anakin needs to do is look, and see, and then…

It seems inevitable—his Padawan will leave.

Former Padawan. Anakin is no longer his Padawan, and that is the heart of it, isn’t it? The severed braid was the firs step. Them having each a battalion of their own, stationed light years away from each other with only the occasional joint mission, a second. The third and final step would be for Anakin to finally open his eyes and look, and see.

It won’t be hard to unveil the carefully crafted Jedi Master facade Obi-Wan had cultivated for the past decade. No, it won’t be hard at all. If Anakin were to stop glorifying him, stop shaping him to be what ever form of idol he had needed for while growing up, if only he were to take an unbiased look at him…

There will no longer be, Kenobi and Skywalker.

For the naked truth was, Anakin had outgrown him, had become more powerful and capable than his Master. There’s little left that Obi-Wan could still offer, still teach. He should be proud. The only one still refusing to see it, is Anakin himself. Once that revelation comes to pass however, it will be complete. A true break, as befitting the Jedi way. Obi-Wan finds no peace in the thought, no completion nor satisfaction in the successful completion of his Padawan’s training—a symbol of his own Mastery.

Not when it means losing him. Not then.

Given his state of drunkenness, words slurred and feet unsteady, he thinks that it’s worth putting to question whatever or not he was a good Jedi at all, least of all a Master. Try as he might, he finds it hard to ponder further. His choice to look inward is as always an avoidance, an escape. An easy detour from looking outward, from looking at Anakin. Anakin who’s eyes he can feel like a physical touch, boring into his very soul.

Obi-Wan’s avoidance is nearly as strong as Anakin’s natural magnetism. One is counseling him to avoid looking, save himself the pain of witnessing the exact moment in which the realization dawns upon the boy. The second, stronger still, demands his undivided attention on him, demands him to look. Demands him. 

Obi-Wan looks up, he meets those eyes, his demise.

Anakin’s eyes widen and he blinks, endless blue clearing as if coming out of some sort of shock.

“Can I—” Anakin splutters “—Obi-Wan, even if the council explicitly ordered me to go save the entire karkin universe just now, I wouldn’t be leaving your side— stars you’ve any idea what you look like right now?

Obi-Wan’s tongue is heavy but he parts his lips to answer, something clever to be sure, he always finds something to say.

“No, never mind.” Anakin cuts in before he could speak. There’s such decisiveness in his tone, such confidence. His former Padawan stands tall, his arms are strong and sure as he handles Obi-Wan closer, making him lean more of his weight against his chest. It’s broad and firm. Obi-Wan should not be noticing those things, should not be aware of those things. It is a further evidence that his Padawan is well and truly grown. Further evidence of his own failing as a Jedi, as a Master, as a…man. Obi-Wan should not be inhaling and smelling home. Should not be leaning closer, itching all over for more, more.

“You’re so wasted that I am surprised you’ve even recognized me at all.” Anakin continues talking, as if the universe is not shifting beneath Obi-Wan’s feet as it is him who finally looks with his gaze unbiased. “The drunken messages though, those you will be seeing tomorrow” there’s dark mirth in that dear voice. “I bet you wanted to send them to— someone else.” Anakin glances at him, eyes narrowed.

Obi-Wan’s offenses at Anakin’s assumption he could ever not recognize him dies over under his gaze, dark and rich, his eyes are captivating. Before Anakin, he did not know that a blue can hold such multitudes. Both the clear morning sky, and the moon lit sky. Beautiful. They loosens his tongue as well as any truth serum would. That or the bottle he had finished on his own finally soaked through.

“I will always—”  His voice comes out so thick that he coughs, starting Anakin from his dark contemplations, whichever those might be. His eyebrows furrow and he quickly snatches a cup of something clear off of a passing robo-waitress’s tray. Irritated with the distraction, Obi-Wan accepts it and drinks if only to make way for the words to follow. He will not let it go. Not now that he’d started. “I will always recognize you, Padawan Mine, drugged, beaten, or otherwise preoccupied— I will always—” “Drugged?!” Anakin cuts in again, arms tightening around Obi-Wan and strangling the annoyed huff at being cut again “You did not mention anything about being drugged, what the kark’ Obi-Wan?!”

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry, similar to how being drugged would feel. His mind swims and all he sees is Anakin. There’s warmth in his chest, there’s a burn in his gut, there’s a tug in his— 

“It’s hard to tell” he says sheepishly, embarrassed, eyes straying away from Anakin’s strong jaw and up, up to the lights on the ceiling. He should not be thinking of how Anakin’s proximity is enough to replicate a strong drug. How out of orbit he feels around him as of late. “They all start the same, so…” 

Anakin is hardly listening. Instead he is surveying the club with a look of fury that is bordering on homicidal, freeing one hand to rest it on his lightsaber. There’s the distinct feeling of Anakin stretching his force signature out, covering the room, no doubt attempting to locate anyone within their proximity who might have dared drug his former Master. Oh if only he knew that he was the culprit all along. 

Obi-Wan snorts, finding an odd sense of humor in it.

Anakin’s gaze darts back to him, sharp and accusing. He looks so handsome under the colorful, dim lights. He looks so… 

“Ah-nakin.” Obi-Wan sighs out and shuts his eyes lest his spinning head forces him to sober up in the most un-jedi manner.  

“Stay with me,” the request comes so easy, what was it that he was so afraid of? It’s so easy, too easy. Frighteningly so, to reach and touch Anakin’s forearm. There’s skin beneath his touch, warm and human, tense muscles beneath. “Ah” Obi-Wan sighs out in realization. Anakin had rolled the sleeves, so very unofficial for a Jedi and yet so very Anakin of him.

Master Windu would have hated it. It wouldn’t surprise Obi-Wan if this was exact reason why Anakin did it to begin with, after all, he was most adept to handling heat and was not bothered by it even while all else were. Obi-Wan really should have reprimanded the boy more often, should have stopped Anakin from executing all those harmless little vendettas of his while growing up.

If only he did not find them to be so endearing, so amusing. If only he was a better Master, a proper Master. He would have. 

His brain is foggy and he had already forgotten what was it it that he had hoped to achieve by touching Anakin, only that his fingers are circling his wrist and touching the spot at which he can feel his life pulsing. What a terrible habit it is, being intoxicated while negotiating. You should only ever drink enough to appear drunk, never more. How is he to get what he wants, when he has no ideas what it was? 

Obi-Wan’s eyelids are heavy when he tries to blink them open and focus on Anakin. There’s the signature frown, so familiar Obi-Wan can’t help but smile. Anakin is chewing his lips, a compulsion he had never managed to rid himself of. He looks torn between the need to locate and deal with the ‘enemy’, and…. Obi-Wan. 

The way Anakin looks, that should not be reminiscent of the targets Obi-Wan opts for charm as the main form of negotiation with. Should not stir the excitement of a hunt, of a game to be won. Obi-Wan should not use his looks to achieve his goals, he should not use them to get what he wants, he should be a better man than that.

Obi-wan is not a better man. 

Licking his own dry lips, he let’s go off of Anakin’s wrist and reaches for Anakin’s cheeks. There’s a tremble in the touch, his, Anakin’s? He is not certain. 

“Dear One, you can chase your enemies tomorrow.” He speaks in a hushed murmur, he hopes he sounds soft and alluring “Tonight, will you guard this drunk Master of yours?” he looks up, through his lashes, breathing shallowly, feeling hot, hot, hot all over. 

Anakin let’s go off of the lightsaber. It’s an answer enough to what he had picked. It still is deeply gratifying to feel the boy’s hand cover his own, guide it until he wraps his arm around Anakin’s shoulders. It’s an awkward angle, with Anakin being taller than he— he cares very little for it when Anakin wraps an arm around his waist. 

“Let’s go.” He is tight lipped and determined, guiding Obi-Wan out and into a speeder that is parked not far off. If Obi-Wan was even slightly more aware, he’d realize just how much attention the pair of them had draw, how all of the eyes had followed them out. Sometimes he forgets, how famous they had become during this accursed war. Sometimes, he is glad to not remember. 

Anakin is terribly efficient at getting them to the Temple. One blink of an eye they’re flying through the busy highways of Coruscant, the next he is tossed unceremoniously onto a bed that feels and smells familiar. His bed.

They’re in his quarters. Their quarters until very recently. He is breathing harder and he does not dare to think of why. If he does not think, it does not exist. He is self aware enough only to feel how disheveled his robes feel on his body, how messy his hair is, how hot his skin feels all over. He is a mess. 

“Dear one?” he questions. He refuses to acknowledge how his own tone drops, refuses to admit he is rolling his vowels in a way he knows thickens his accent in the most attractive of ways. He doesn’t know why he is flirting with Anakin Skywalker when the boy is barely out of his knighthood and is Anakin. His Anakin, his Anakin on whom he just looked in a way he really should not be looking at, through his eyelashes, with a heavy, wanting gaze. 

The redness of Anakin’s cheeks is evidence enough that he hears and understands the situation well enough. That he is very much aware of what his Master is doing. That he is… perhaps affected. 

Obi-Wan swallows, trying to push himself up to his elbows. He needs to sober up, he must tell him that he is merely jesting, that it is all a little tease, a little laugh, nothing more, just….

Anakin cuts him to it. Before he can excuse, or joke, or explain.

“Not while you’re drunk.” Anakin bites, sounding frustrated, lips swollen red from biting. Obi-Wan startles, surprised. 

What did Anakin just say? Imply?

Blatantly threw straight into his face, more like. 

Yes, but not while he is drunk.

Absurdly, a swell of pride fills his chest to the brim. Anakin’s manners and chivalry surprises him, pleases him. He had raised him well after all, he did not fail him, at least not in this.

His pleasure must bleed into the Force as Anakin regards him with a dark, baffled look. It’s so dark, most would find it intimidating, but for Obi-Wan it’s… dear. He can see the gentleness in that look, the care. There’s warmth in the force when Anakin insist on tucking him in, fingers methodical in the short, careful gestures. Tucking him in as if he was a child. Him, his Master. Former. 

Obi-Wan was tucked in only once in his lifetime, at least as far as he can remember. His first night in the Jedi Temple. So tense he was, so out of his depth, that the he was taken pity of, tucked in with a quiet promise of everything making sense soon. It helped.

It had never happen again. 

“Ahnakin.” he tries to protest, tries to pull a face of offended indigence. It’s hard to do when he is practically shining within the force. A single look from his apprentice is enough to quiet him down. 

“Master.” Anakin replies, and there’s a little eyeroll there. His cheeks are still flushed but he seems as determined as Obi-Wan to not address the Bantha in the room. “You really should be more careful” he lectures him in a way Obi-Wan can distinctly remember doing a few years back, when Anakin had gotten drunk for the first time. 

He leaves then, without a word. Obi-Wan’s throat closes and there’s a pang of pain in his heart. No this. He remembers now. Him. Leaving. That was the whole reason, that was why—

“Master?” Anakin sounds concerned, a glass of water and a container of what looks to be painkillers in his hands. “Are you sick?” a few strides and he is by Obi-Wan’s bed again, placing he glass and container at the bedside table. He looks well and truly worried. 

Unthinking, Obi-Wan sits up. So sudden that he does feel sick from the motion. He ignores it. He reaches for Anakin’s face with both hands, cupping his cheeks with a grip that is too strong, too desperate. A Jedi should not hold onto things with such fervor. 

All it takes for him to lean is to Anakin, is to stop resisting if only for a moment. Anakin’s pull was always there, stronger and stronger until it had become a daily challenge to ignore it, to pretend he does not feel it. All it takes is to stop resisting and his lips find Anakin’s, pressing against that plush softness, inhaling his exhale and finally, finally feeling anchored, inside the orbit he was always meant to circle.

He tilts his chin, leans in, knowing his beard will scratch pleasantly against the smooth jaw, kisses in deeper—

“Mahster—!” Anakin gasps into the kiss, a pang of shock and uncertainty clouding the force around them, sipping through the open nerves of their broken bond.  He does not want to take advantage of his Master, does not want him to end up hating him, does not want him to wake up and be disgusted, appalled— but he wants, he wants so badly. 

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan breathes out, unsure if it’s endearment of relief that fills him up with warmth, with lightness. One thing he is certain of, no one had ever been, or will be, as sweet, as kind, as dear as Anakin is to him. “I could never hate him.” There’s a drunken lisp to his voice, he needs a moment to correct himself. “You.” He manages, meeting Anakin’s eyes and not blinking, not wanting to miss a single moment. Wanting to see the exact moment in which Anakin realizes he is serious, that he is the most honest he’s been in years. 

Anakin seems to be realizing it too, his eyes widening and cheeks coloring a deeper red than before, he bites his lip.

“I might be…” Obi-Wan’s gaze drops to Anakin’s lips and he thinks about… “intoxicated…” he forces himself to look up, away from temptation, away from sin. “Drugged, possibly.” He is still not fully certain if he is, or it truly is just Anakin with a touch of alcohol. “But I am very much aware that…” he smiles before completing the sentence, it widens so much further with the words to come “…my Padawan simply cannot take advantage of his Master…” there’s really no need to be using this many terms of belonging, especially when they are outdated and irrelevant, but he just cannot… “On the contrary, I am the one who should be deeply ashamed for…mnnn-” 

Anakin’s lips quiet him up, he was never a patient listener, never could hear his Master finish a thought. This is the most effective he had ever been at cutting Obi-Wan’s line of thought, by far. He kisses him in a way Obi-Wan would have never guessed him capable of— it’s soft, sweet, patient. A tender thing, careful, loving. Obi-Wan gasps. Thinking, dazedly of how Anakin will grow to be an amazing lover, so attentive, a beast holding back his fangs in favor of gentle lips… 

The thought sets a burning coil of arousal deep in Obi-Wan’s gut.

Not good. Beyond not good. He should…. 

The thought is present and yet he licks at Anakin’s lips, asking for permission. He is granted one without resistance, without hesitance. Anakin’s lips part and he can taste him and oh, oh. Obi-Wan groans, muscles tensing as he shifts to sit straighter, moving a hand to Anakin’s nape and pulling him closer.

He nearly chokes when the boy sucks on his tongue, arousal shocking him into near soberness. 

“Anakin…” he knows, there’s not enough alcohol in the universe to convince him that this is not going too far, he knows and yet… 

He kisses Anakin again, a little hungrier, a little more wanting.

He must stop this madness. To think that he had started it, to think that he had taken advantage of his trusting, sweet—

“No, Master.” Anakin answers, and Obi-Wan wonders just how much of his shields is truly left if his thoughts can be read so easily, so plainly. “You’ve asked me to stay, and I will stay.” That assuredness is back, firm and leaving no space for argument. This is the same man who leads men on a battlefield, who commands, who leads. Obi-Wan finds it impossibly, undeniably, devastatingly attractive.

“You will sleep.” Anakin decides then, tearing his eyes away from Obi-Wan long enough to gesture at the lights, turning them off with the force. “And I will stay with you.” His eyes land back to Obi-Wan, dark mirth dancing in what Obi-Wan can still see of him. “To keep you safe, Master.” He is teasing him, the little devil.

“How will it even…” Obi-Wan doesn’t want to mention how narrow the bed really is, Anakin would know, with his constant complaints about how leg room and… 

“Don’t worry about that.” Anakin answers, confidence so cocky, so boyish that Obi-Wan huffs a surprised laughter, breaking into giggling when Anakin practically falls on top of him. They struggle like that, laughter mixing, limbs tangling, hair in a mouth and fingers against sides— Anakin captures him then, they’re on their sides, Anakin’s back is firm as he pulls Obi-Wan all the way to himself, forming….

“Absolutely not!” Obi-Wan’s voice raises and breaks a little, attempting to wriggle out of the trap he inadvertently fell into. There’s still some pride life in him. He will not permit this Jedi Knight, his former Padawan no less, big spoon him, 16 years his senior and former Master. Force be his witness, he will not allow it.

Anakin makes a suffering, exasperated exhale when Obi-Wan manages to slip out of his grip— only to be yanked back by the force. All he manages is a choked gasp of protest before the air is knocked out of him, his back hitting a firm chest a little too hard. There’s a vindictive sort of satisfaction in hearing Anakin chokes out a surprised exhale too, clearly, he did not account for the impact being this strong.

“Karkin’ hell…” he hears the boy muttering and snorts out, laughing even while Anakin wraps his mechno-arm around him, pulling him back into the not-as-offensive as before little spoon position. Fine, he thinks. He’ll allow it, just for this one night…. 

His eyes close and he shudders when Anakin’s nose press against his nape, he can feel the slow, deep inhale— can feel the content exhale that follows. 

“Finally.” Anakin breathes out, as if he was waiting for this moment longer than the few minutes  just now. Like he needed it, himself. Like it was not Obi-Wan, pathetic and alone, messaging his former Padawan while drunk beyond reason that led him here, but his own needs, own wants. Like he needed this too, him. Like he needs him. Obi-Wan. 

“Oh Force…” Obi-Wan calls upon it without realizing, without meaning it. Only the force can stand witness to this moment, judge it, measure it. Guide him, tell him right from wrong. “Force.” His voice trembles with it, realizing for the first time that Anakin does see him, in truth, does and still…

“It’s fine with it.” Anakin remarks, nonchalant, amusement coloring the timbre of his voice. “You don’t have to shout at her, I don’t think she like it very much” Anakin refers to the Force differently every time, Obi-Wan suspects he does it simply for the joy of throwing off the younglings.

It unsettles Obi-Wan as well, he will not admit that much, though. Anakin’s connection with the force was always stronger, always different than anyone else’s. If he’s saying that the Force is not finding this offensive…. Obi-Wan will trust him. Anakin enjoys messing around at times, stretching the truth about how the Force works, but he’d never lie about this, not to him. 

Obi-Wan’s body relaxes so completely that he practically sags into Anakin, relief, so much relief. It feels…. Good. There’s rightness to it that even without the Force humming pleasantly in his ears, he’d recognize. Like sharing a sleeping cot in the war zones, minus the blood and gore and pain… it feels secure, it feels…good…. 

He feels himself being lulled to what he suspects will be a long and restful sleep. Such a luxury as of late. “Mnh..” He jolts a little when a hand moves across his side, resting at his hip bone and then back up to his side. He should not permit Anakin this much leeway with him and yet…. He likes it… oh he likes it.

So he doesn’t comment it, allowing him to continue, to stroke him and care for him, and hold him. He is not leaving. 

Sleep comes ease, as easy as an inhale. One moment he is aware of all that surrounds him, the scent and warmth, the weight and touch. The next he is sinking into the open embrace of rest. Distantly, he feels the touch of a Force Signature he knows as well as his own. It is the only half of it, after all. Accepting it, is as easy as breathing too. 

There’s a distant shift, even in sleep he can feel the bond snapping back into place, like moons falling into a familiar route, circling a singular sun. Maybe it was not Anakin who was the sun around which Obi-wan was revolving all along, but their shared….

[starflungwaddledee]

>> start the adventure! << || [masterpost] ||

while starstruck makes her merry way to the @kirbyoctournament, why not keep her company with some questions?

for the next month, as propaganda for the tourney, dream land's favourite little anxious amnesiac will be taking asks directly!

couple of little notes, suggestions, and rules!

though this is hopefully obvious, i don't guarantee i'll get to every ask or interaction! i'll do the best i can, but if i don't make it to yours, it's nothing personal! where possible these will be answered "in character" from tourney!starstruck, though you can still ask me tournament related things too! this is my first time trying "in character" asks, but i want to make one thing really clear: please no text rp. makes me incredibly uncomfortable. for plot consistency, this is set during her Present Timeline, and she knows as much about her own backstory as the average reader. has no idea who This Guy is. she has similarly not yet encountered the star spears or any weapon like them. questions can come from ocs, especially if they're in the tournament! i may not draw your oc in the response though. i probably won't respond to any "how are you" generic type deals because those will get hard to answer pretty much immediately. i am hoping to find some fun personality combos to riff off, so if you have an interesting interaction idea for our ocs, feel free to share! starstruck is Technically Romancable and OCs who are at least 25+ are totally welcome to make an attempt to flirt with her (pspsps evil lesbians especially if you're out there come say hi. any and all wings havers also), but remember she is dense as a pile of bricks. also please no nsfw.

[flowerakatsuka]

denki!kuroba has plagued my mind for the past 24 hours so it's time to drop their design & lore. ( bonus + more lore under the cut! )

( ya'll knew i had to find a way to shoehorn kurokara into this au SOMEHOW. )

while they don't meet during the events of six idol statues of taboo, kuroha does eventually get to meet chorosuke's recently reunited brothers afterwards. strangely enough, it seems that karatsugu knows who they are. kuroha's life before the accident was much like the one kuroba lives ; having attended college for horticulture and working at their grandfather's floral shop. karatsugu and kuroha had known each other for a long time, having become friends in high school and staying quite close into adulthood. because of this, he was absolutely devastated when they suddenly disappeared a year and a half ago while on the way to visit family in yokohama. there were no reports of any crashes or deaths, no missing people found, nothing. it was as if they were spirited away, never to be heard of again. upon learning this, kuroha is rather distraught. even though his face is so familiar to them, the past he recounts to them refuses to come back to them. something they had been keeping a secret from the others at the midorito estate was that they had begun to recollect some things, but what they remembered seemed more like strange dreams than any memories they should have. memories of traveling with mononoke, fighting in gang wars, fending off youkai, a life much like what karatsugu described but not exactly the same... and in all of those memories, the six same faces, so eerily similar yet unsettling different. the most prominent of them all being the faces just like karatsugu's. they aren't sure why these strange memories are all they can recall, perhaps they're finally losing it, but with the brothers' help, kuroha might be able to figure out the true meaning behind them and even remember their life in this universe along the way.

ALSO, a quick explanation of denki!kuroba's name!

( fair warning : my understanding of japanese is very rudimentary so i may have made some mistakes in my translation or how names are written. please let me know if that's the case and i'll correct anything i've gotten wrong! )

kuroba / クロバ -> kuroha / 黒葉 ( くろは )

kuroba's name is written in katakana while kuroha's is written in kanji ( with furigana written in hiragana. )

kuroba's first name comes from クローバー ( kurōbā ) meaning clover. when the dakuten from バ ( ba ) is removed, it becomes ハ ( ha. ) the equivalent of ハ in hiragana is は, which is used in the furigana for kuroha's name. the kanji used for kuroha is 黒 ( kuro ) meaning black and 葉 ( ha ) meaning leaf.

yotsubana / 四つ花 ( ヨツバナ ) -> shinigusa / 死に草 ( しにグサ )

yotsubana comes from 四つ葉 ( yotsuba ) meaning four-leaved, notably used in the japanese for four-leaved clover / 四つ葉のクローバー ( yotsuba no kurōbā. ) the kanji for ba in youtsuba is swapped for 花 ( hana, ) which can be read has bana like in the surname tachibana. as a result, their surname can be read as " four flowers. "

the 四 ( yo ) from yotsubana, which can also be read as shi, becomes 死 ( shi, ) meaning death. the adverbializer に ( ni ) replaces つ ( tsu. ) the kanji for hana is replaced with 花 ( kusa, ) which is lifted from a synonym for clover, 詰草 ( tsumekusa. ) kusa becomes gusa as an instance of rendaku. their surname can be roughly read as " dead(ly) grass. "

[sparky-scratch]

looking with my autistic eyes

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[evergreen-endo]

worlds most irritating couple somebody separate them STAT !!!!!

[ryebecca]

psa ✨

Hello, friends!

I've gotten quite a few new followers over the last month or so and wanted to remind you all that my blog is 18+.

If you want to follow me/are already following me and do not have your age in your bio or pinned post, you'll be blocked.

If your blog is blank, you'll be blocked.

If you have your age in your bio and your blog is still blank, you'll be blocked.

If all your bio or pinned post says is "18+" but doesn't list your age, you'll be blocked.

That being said -

I've been a bit lax with a good chunk of my latest follows, so I'm giving y'all a week to update your bio/pinned post with your age and to fill up that blog (at least a bit, but I believe I've been pretty good blocking blank blogs) before I start combing through and blocking.

You have until Sunday, July 14th at 11:59pm (EDT) to update your blog or I'll have to say 👋🏻. Many thanks!

[coffeexxcigarettes]

Resignation

-

The world has a funny way

Of leaving you alone in darkness.

They don't love you,

If you don't perform well enough.

Then they have the audacity

To ask what is wrong.

To tell you to swallow your pride,

As if it's not the only thing protecting you

From spinning out in a desperate attempt

To be seen-

I've trusted more people that have wounded me

Than I will ever trust again.

I've learned my lessons in blood.

I cannot be what you want me to be,

And I am elated to announce

I'm done fucking trying.

x

[somegrumpynerd]

Back to working on the truce au!

[orb-the-watchman]

Just watched Poor Things Holy FUCK such an amazing movie