#I hope this makes some sense XD))

[nagito-nagisa]

Some doodle of Pluto and Duke,

My headcanon is that whenever Duke sees Pluto lost in a book, he plans to pull some prank on him but in the end always finds that scene too cute to ruin.

But honestly I don't think it's possible to sneak up on Pluto, due to his upbringing poor thing probably can sense that someone is approaching

So Pluto knows Duke is there and is about to start rambling about whatever he's reading about now, being completely sure that Duke came because he's also interested in a book.

[bleue-flora]

What’s funny to me is that green is commonly known as a villain color, but while green can symbolize envy, jealousy, death, poison, toxicity, evil, greed, it is also often life, security, soothing, tranquility, peace, rebirth, renewal, hope, happiness, goodness and more. It is both goodness and evil, both life and death, and yet it is commonly the color of villains not heroes, who often wear red which is commonly the color of passion, emotion, anger, power, war, desire, aggression, warning, danger, hatred, courage, sacrifice, energy, romance, confidence, and dominance just to name some main ones. And isn’t that interesting that the color of villains represents peace vs the common color of the “good guy” can represent aggression and war, you’d think it’d be the other way around, and of course there are stories where that is true (Star Wars for example), but I do feel like it happens a lot that you have green as the “bad guy” color and red as the hero: Voldemort vs Harry Potter, Superman vs Lex Luther, Loki vs Thor, Maleficent vs the Prince, Spider-Man vs Green Goblin just to name a few big examples and of course Dream vs Tommy.

And I don’t know, after seeing this [post] and Wicked I was just thinking about green and thinking about how the Grinch, and the Wicked Witch really are easily labeled as evil and terrible and such because of the green, even when green can and is often symbolic of good things. And that even Dream, while not persecuted because he was green was called a snake by Wilbur and Lucifer, The Serpent, by Tommy [post about Dream & labels], creatures that are commonly associated with green. But isn’t that fitting. That these characters are good and can be good, that the propaganda is misleading.

Even further, when it comes to Dream specifically it’s interesting because Dream wanted peace when Tommy continued over and over to cause war. Their color associated with them is fitting, even if not in the way many see it, even if instead of an outward appearance of wickedness it is the reflection of goodness in them that people miss…

[hazelpuff]

[atalienart]

Well... what can I say :|

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

So, I've heard some voices here and there lamenting how little Gabe content - especially new Gabe content - there was and you know what? I completely agree, so I thought why not, I can try to add my little droplet into this tiny sea of Gabe appreciation we have here on tumblr.

Summary: Elena visits Gabe in his house for the first time and learns something new about his past.

Word count: 1937

AN: just some friendly fluff really, headcanon heavy, from Elena's POV but Gabe centric

"Oh, watch out, the first step is-" Gabe turned around just in time to catch Elena when she started to fall backwards. "-loose."

"Thanks for the warning." Elena shot him a glare when she regained her balance. In response Gabe only sent her an unapologetic grin and pulled her up on the next step.

"Everyone's so used to it by now that we keep forgetting to fix it with my dad," he explained as they finally reached the first floor.

The stairs led to a narrow corridor, with the same room placement as the bakery beneath it. Two doors on the right, one on the left and a wide opening to the living room at the end. In a few brisk steps Gabe opened the door on the left and invited Elena in with a courteous gesture.

"Welcome to my humble abode, your highness."

Her highness graced him with a nod and slipped by him, into the small room. Elena gave it a quick one over. It was indeed small - in fact, there probably wasn't much more space than what each guard got at the barracks - and the decor wasn't much fancier either. Cream colored walls, a thin bed by the window, a wardrobe opposite of it, one wall taken up by a bookshelf and a small cabinet by another made up basically all the furnishing of the room.

"Humble is a good word." She nodded solemnly, earning herself an eye roll from her friend. They both chuckled.

"Hey, it's your room that's out of the norm, you know?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Elena retorted, thinking about how three or even four such rooms would fit into hers. She walked over to the cabinet and picked up some trinket. "But it's nice to finally see where you grew up."

Gabe couldn't stop a fond smile sneaking onto his lips when he noticed the badge she was examining.

"Yeah and I didn't really get to change much here in the past five years. For example this thing I got back when-"

"Gabriel!" He was interrupted by his mother's voice from the bakery.

"I'll tell you in a moment," he sighed. "Make yourself at home!" He added from the doors and quickly ran downstairs to his parents.

Elena took another look around the room. It wasn't entirely empty, she had to admit that, and the poster of Antonio Agama on the inner side of the door confirmed that Gabe didn't change the decor much since he moved out.

She moved to the bookshelf and moved her hand across the titles - though there weren't that many of them to count. The lower shelves were taken up by some boxes and bags and what could've been a neatly packaged tent. Then finally a whole shelf dedicated to the whole collection of Antonio Agama's books. Elena chuckled to herself when she read some of the more dramatic titles and noticed even one that wasn't in Avaloran. On the next shelf, between other various travel books and biographies, was only one book by señor Agama, titled simply 'The Gecko's Tale'. Driven by a hunch she took it out and couldn't help but laugh when she read the blurb on the back. Although that explained how the whole kingdom found out that she's a bit adventurous too.

Finally her gaze got to the plant on top of the mantle. Hidden so deep in the room, it extended its ivy like stalks towards the sun, climbing a string helpfully hung between the bookshelf and the window.

Down on the windowsill two other plants looked out on the little cobbled square behind the house. Elena leaned in to smell the orchid and noticed something half hidden behind the pot. Slowly, so as not to accidentally damage the plant, she reached for trinket and retrieved it into the light. It turned out to be a wooden doll, painted to resemble a familiar navy and maroon uniform...

"Is this you?" She turned to Gabe as soon as he entered the room and showed him the figurine with a wide smile.

Gabe stopped for a moment. Furrowed his brows as he tried to see what Elena was even holding, and then furrowed his brows even more when he recognised it.

"Of course not," he grumbled, closing the small distance between them. "It's just an old thing anyway."

"It does look a bit like you though." She jumped away from him at the last moment.

Gabe gasped. Elen giggled and moved her hand away when he tried to reach her.

"Why would I even have a figurine of myself?"

For a moment they circled each other, like two lions judging if it's worthy to fight the opponent for a steak, except the steak was now wooden and 15 centimetres high. They both hunched subconsciously and made their steps in the fencing manner.

"I don't know, why does Esteban have a whole wall of his own portraits?" A sly grin slid on her face. "But I see you've decided to match his collection."

"Oh now you've done it." Gabe shook his head to hide his smile and in the split of a second was right by her. Feigning to go right for the prize, he swiped her legs out from under her.

Elena waved her hands in the air giving Gabe just the opportunity he was waiting for. He swiftly yanked the figurine from her hands, giving her the last push to fall backwards completely. He turned his head with a victorious grin, just in time to see her legs rising at the height of his knees. And suddenly the ground was much closer than before.

He folded his arms to his chest, protecting the figurine with his body and rolled on the floor. Though he didn't have to roll far, of which he was promptly reminded by his head crushing into the cupboard.

He groaned loudly and let his body fall limply to the floor.

His pained complaint was answered by Elena's laughter from the bed.

"I'm getting too old for this," he mumbled and Elena's laughter only got louder.

Finally he sat up and lifted the figurine to his face. He carefully examined it for any cracks or splinters, checked if the joints in the limbs didn't fall out and most importantly if the head was still on firm. Finally when he made sure the trinket didn't get damaged, he let out a relieved sigh.

"You're lucky it's still whole," he grumbled, rising to his feet.

"Hey, I was being careful." Elena now sat up too and sent him a playful smirk. "All the way until you decided to trip me like that."

Gabe rolled his eyes again and huffed in pretended annoyance.

"So if it's not a limited edition General Nuñez action figure," Elena continued. "What is it?"

Gabe sat down next to her and thought of an answer for a moment. He changed the position of the little soldier's arms and reached for a pin to put into his hand as a sword.

"It's really just an old toy," he said finally. "But you know, it has sentimental value."

He finally passed Elena the figurine, so she could take a look at it herself. It wasn't as old as she thought at first. The paint was faded, but still held onto the uneven surface of the wood and as she moved her fingers across it, she realized that it must've been all whittled by hand, by someone who put great care in it, but wasn't a professional.

Still the amount of details was impressive, especially in the construction of the thing. She moved the tiny soldier into the proper fencing position and to her delight found out that it fits flawlessly, the wire on the joints creaked quietly, as if it had been waiting for an opportunity to shine for ages.

She glanced between the figurine and Gabe on her left for comparison. The uniform, despite the familiar colours, was a tad different, it resembles more what she remembered from her childhood, than the uniform Gabe was wearing at the moment.

"I got it from my first fencing teacher," he continued.

"The same one who threw coconuts at you driving training?" Elena raised a brow, earning herself a chuckle.

"Yeah, the same one." A sad smile reached the corners of his eyes as old memories resurfaced in his memory. "He was a tough man and always talked about how big an annoyance I am, but -" he gestured to the figurine and shrugged.

"Well, that explains why it looks like you," Elena bumped him with her shoulder. "I'm sure he could've already seen that you'll be a great guard."

"Oh, I don't think he even wanted me to be a guard," Gabe laughed again. "But you know, the situation was a bit different." He pondered something for a moment before continuing. "And to be fair, I didn't even realize that it was supposed to be a guard at the time, I was pretty sure he just came up with the design by himself. I only really connected the dots a few years ago, when I found this old thing again."

Elena nodded silently and put a comforting hand on his arm. She could see that this topic wasn't easy for him.

"Though maybe what you said was the point." He straightened suddenly and his gaze went back to the figurine. "Maybe he wasn't completely against me joining the guard, just... joining the right one."

His smile became wider and it was like his whole face lit up. Elena raised the little soldier's arms to make it cheer. They both laughed at how expressive this piece of wood was.

"So where is your coach now?" Elena asked, caressing the wooden toy one more time.

He only sighed at first and for a moment his gaze became clouded again, before he shook his head to cast the memories away.

"I wish I knew," he sent her a sad smile. "One day he just... disappeared. A few trinkets and one letter is all the proof I have that he wasn't just my hallucination."

Elena's lips twitched in a matching sad smile, but before she could say anything, they both heard a voice from downstairs, calling the unmistakable word 'dinner!'

Gabe clapped his hands on his knees and sprung up to his feet.

"Ah, just in time", he extended his hand to Elena. "I think eating is a much more fun topic than discussing the weird things I did in my childhood."

Elena examined his face for a moment more, but gave up on asking all the questions that pushed to the tip of her tongue. She sent him a smile instead and accepted his hand.

"Oh, you mean you did more weird things?" She made the little figurine gasp.

"I feel like I shouldn't have started this topic," Gabe laughed.

"Oh no, you won't escape now." She poked him in the chest and put the little soldier in his hand. "I gotta know all the crazy stories."

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you something," Gabe raised his hands in defeat. "But you can't mention it to my parents, please, they'll never stop until they tell you my whole life story."

Elena made a theatrical gesture of tapping her lips in thought as she backed out of the room.

"I'll consider it," she sent him a wide grin and in a second turned and ran towards the stairs.

"Hey- wait!" Gabe called out, running right after her to save what was left of his reputation.

[mitamicah]

Okay so I think I just overshared to the Max to a tattoo artist i've never met 🤣

She asked for descriptions of our dream tattoo and I went way over the text limit when explaining not one but two ideas for her over ig dms 😆🤣😅

[unlockthestars]

Learn about my muses' physical features! // Accepting

@hopeandharmonizing asked: waIT I think I forgot Qrow uhhhhhhh [face] and [eyes]

[face]: what is the shape of their face, do they have pronounced cheekbones or a strong jaw, what’s the size and shape of their nose, what’s the size and shape of their ears, do they stick out, are they pointed, etc.

Qrow definitely has very angular features. His chin is notably pointed, and he has a very strong jaw, which helps with that aura of carefree confidence he projects as a way to put space between himself and others.

He has a small, straight nose that has definitely been broken a few times. Even he's not sure how his nose looks as good as it does, especially considering how Misfortune fucks with him.

His ears don't really stick out from his head; they're pretty regularly ear-shaped, though the earlobe isn't very pronounced.

[eyes]: not just the colour, but the shape, the length of their eyelashes, whether they’re alert or usually half-closed, large or small, sunken into the face, ringed by bags, etc.

Qrow's eyes are probably one of the most striking things about him, and they're definitely one of the first things people notice about him when they first meet him. He has narrow, pointed eyes, and they are red. Though the particular shade of red depends a little bit on the circumstances, as the colour shifts a little bit depending on emotions.

They get a bit deeper when excited, in various forms, and slightly lighter when he's focusing on something more cerebral.

Despite how seemingly perpetually tired he is, there aren't that many bags under his eyes, which is definitely a good thing; he doesn't need anyone worrying about him.

He has long, dark lashes that sometimes make it look like he's wearing a little bit of eyeliner even when he isn't, which he honestly doesn't mind.

[kindred-spirit-93]

FUCK U ACHILLES U DONT GET TO TALK TO MY SON LIKE THAT.

A CHILD. A CHILD I TELL YOU. also im not over troilus fuck you again.

how the hell was he supposed to know any better when he was taken so young from the arms of his mother and forced into war that hardens the hearts of grown ass men, let alone a child who had no business being part of one, and all under the pretence of being the son of the godlike warrior he never knew, who was immortalised for his actions on the battlefield and little if anything else.

what else was he going to learn beside bloodlust and securing victory at any cost? how else was he going to see the father he never met as anything but the merciless soldier who dragged the body of his enemy (who didnt deserve that at all) around the city for days and not want to walk in his footsteps, bc thats what he was celebrated for

of course he was going to be proud of his actions thats what he was taught, thats what got him positive attention form his (adult) peers. he learnt to associate a higher death toll with appreciation, which is so sick and twisted. maybe if you stuck around more hedve learned there was more to you (and life) than murder & violence. this is kinda very on you my guy. you dont get to criticise the parenting u werent a part of.

--

last note; even if u were a present father and did your bit in raising him and was all all around a good parent, this is stil not how you approach the subject. you dont blame a child and reproach them harshly, and definately not in the way you would a mature adult who would know better.

sandwich it at least; tell him youre proud of him for being a good kid and taking care of his mother, that he has many good qualities and had a good life ahead of him, be honest with him about what kind of things he mustve heard about him after his death and set the record straight, then gently explain what you find wrong in his actions and why. understand that there was so much out of his power, make peace with him and forgive him he was a child shoved into a mans armour and expected to fill the role he was much too young and innocent for. that he never should have been forced into that role and that it wasnt his fault things played out the way they did.

*combusts*

Achilles being honest

[epitomees]

There wasn’t much a kid like her could buy, but Makoto liked that Panchimaru panda thing. She didn’t understand the appeal, but knowing that made finding gifts a lot easier. The key chain wasn’t anything spectacular, just the panda holding bamboo, yet people went crazy over it if this had been the last one in stock. It went inside a small box, one that used to hold some other accessory long ago.

With how small it was, there was no need to giftwrap it, she thought. So she handed it over like that, plain and unassuming, potentially a little misleading. “It’s your birthday, so...”

Time constantly changes, and with it came several uncertainties and uncomfortable adjustments everyone had to embrace. Whether a dire need for something different was required or if it must be forcefully swallowed in order to accept the alterations, it always happened. Nobody could stop it. One way or another, it was a necessary condition of the ever-changing society. Although these instances usually wrought bouts of anxiety and apprehension, since some people refused to acknowledge these changing tides, other circumstances led to more positive adjustments in a person's life. It all depended on the individual's outlook on the situation.

Some constants remained the same, never turning or transforming into a different perspective, and as years passed they solidified more into general life facts. Each individual grew up with several of these facts already known since birth, or some coming into existence when a sudden turn of events veered their life's course to an entirely different path. Unexpected losses, financial declines, or house evictions made the perfect starting point for these cases. It began unexpected hardships, and potentially losing relationships with friends or family in the process. It always happened...

And it happened for Shujin's student council president. The little family she had remaining never bothered sitting down and questioning the brunette's feelings on such traumatic instances. Her dad left her in the care of her older sister. From then on, their days and nights were hardly spent together. Not even mingling together by the dinner table due to their conflicted schedules. A simple morning greeting was the best Sis managed in a single day. Nothing else.

Now, on the day of Makoto's own birthday, the younger Nijima anticipated the same, daily treatment. A lone card was the only difference among their morning routine, yet Sae stood nowhere in sight upon Makoto's entrance into the kitchen. Just as expected. Another constant in her life. She vacated the apartment without bothering to read the contents inside the card (if Sae bothered writing anything other than her own name). School kept her mind off of any depressive thoughts worming themselves into her mind. If dad were still alive, it'd be different.

If dad was here, she'd feel included. If dad was here, she'd be smiling again. If dad was here, she'd feel loved. If dad was-

"-OH! Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention..." The brunette's apology lingered away upon seeing a recognizable newsboy cap at her eye level. How had she forgotten about her other sister? Naoto rarely visited, but the few times the two bumped into each other wandering Shibuya's crowded streets it always turned into a pleasant confrontation. She suspected Sae's cold behavior kept the young detective away from their home. An estranged sibling hardly ever received recognition or compassion from their blood family, yet Makoto felt more vulnerable around Naoto. More...connected even.

"...you...oh..." Maroon eyes led down to the small, jewelry-sized box held in the other girl's palm. A birthday gift, from one sister to another. She gingerly took the present in hand, carefully opening the lid to reveal yet another prized Buchimaru collectible awaiting inside. "...oh....oh! You...you found this one!? They're only available at specific gacha machines across the country." Did this mean Naoto intentionally made plans to grab this rare memorabilia for today's special occasion?

All for Makoto?

"...y-you know...I still have that Buchi-mailman plush you gave me last time..." It remained untouched, sitting comfortably among her shelf of various panda-themed mementos and close to Makoto's bedroom desk. That was on purpose. "And now...I have something else I've gotten from you on my birthday...so..." Would it be too selfish to ask at this time? She hardly knew Naoto's schedule but concluded it was just as busy, if not entirely packed, as Sae's daily calendar of events. But maybe, just this once...

...she wouldn't be a burden if she asked for this request?

"...I'm...wondering if...you happen to be free later...would you like to join me for dinner?"

[sleep-drunk-kitten]

pairing: Sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff, established relationship

content warnings: emotional neglect, some swearing, hoon is kinda a workaholic ig?, I don't think there's anything that really needs warnings other than this is sad but lmk if I miss anything!

summary: your boyfriend comes home late after promising to be home on time for once, only to find that you're nowhere in sight...

notes: this is another one that I'm not sure how to feel about ;-; but I hope you guys enjoy it TwT fun fact, the whole thing was inspired by an rp that I did with an ai where the robot somehow managed to call me by another person's name while cuddling XD

I'm making a general taglist for my fics so if anyone would like to be added please either send an ask or a DM ^w^

Everything below the cut is NOT proofread

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  The white noise of your favorite movie buzzes through your living room, conversation and dialogue that you’d learned by heart filling the cold space with a false sense of familiarity. You sit cross-legged with your back pressed into the arm of the L-shaped couch in front of the tv, resting your chin on a plushie held close to your chest, looking not at the flickering screen to your right, but at the clock hanging in your kitchen–the only room in the house with the lights on. 

  9:17 pm, it reads. Roughly three hours and seventeen minutes since your boyfriend would typically get home from work. 

  Three hours and seventeen minutes since you’d been waiting on a barstool by the kitchen island where you both usually took your meals. 

  A tiramisu cake and a bouquet of flowers laid out in front of you. 

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  So much waiting. 

  After an hour or so, you’d gently slid the cake back into its box, distracting yourself with the task of putting the flowers into a vase before they could wilt. 

  ‘He’s late again,’ you think sleepily, eyes struggling to stay focused on the clock, ’he promised he wouldn’t be tonight.’

  Your vision blurs as the long hand hits 12, eyelids too heavy to keep open, mind wandering to the conversation you’d shared with Sunghoon that morning. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  “What time will you be home from work today?” you asked sleepily, sitting up in your nest of blankets, having woken up to find that he was already in the process of pulling his socks on, careful not to wake you. 

  “I don’t know, Love, you know how crazy things have been with this update, I might be late again,” he said absently, looking around for his glasses. “Where the fuck did I put them?”

  He runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, leg bouncing in agitation. It made your heart ache slightly in your chest, disappointment, guilt, and worry mixing confusedly in your stomach. 

  You loved Sunghoon, more than almost anything else in your life, he was the man you’d chosen as your partner, who you’d decided to stand by through thick and thin. But ever since the game company he worked for had started work on a new update, you’d been seeing less and less of him. Always coming home late, tired and stressed, mind wandering and absent even when he was sitting right in front of you. You understood, you really did. Between the two of you he was the one with the bigger income, the burden of taking care of you, of making sure that the two of you could build a future together, was on his shoulders. And it was a responsibility that he did not take lightly. 

  But still. 

  In moments like that, where you slid off your bed to fetch his glasses off the nightstand–blanket wrapped securely round your shoulders to fend off the cold that permeated your apartment since the heating had started to malfunction–moving round the bed to stand in front of him… you couldn’t help but feel like he was breaking your heart. Just a little. 

  It was in the way he only met your eyes briefly when he took them from you before standing and gathering the rest of his things, sighing in what could’ve been frustration or relief, it was hard to tell. 

  It was the way he didn’t stop the flow of movement steadily taking him away from you and towards the office till you called his name twice, stopping in his tracks and fixing you with a look that, though probably unintentional, made you want to bury yourself under your mountain of plushies and hide. 

  “I’m going to be late, (y/n), what is it?”

  You winced. You couldn’t help it. Unaccustomed to hearing him say your name with so little emotion. “Just… could you come back on time tonight?” your voice is barely more than a whisper, tapering off into silence the longer you force your eyes to meet his. “Unless you can’t of course! I’m not saying you have to do anything, I understand that you’re busy and you can’t really dictate when or how things get done but just that it would be nice if you could be home on time tonight since-”

  “Okay.”

  “Huh?” 

  “I’ll make it home on time tonight.” 

  His voice was softer than it had been a moment ago, giving you the courage you needed to meet his eyes. They were still heavy with worry, brows drawn together to dig a permanent crease into the middle of his forehead, but they weren’t quite as cold or distant. He was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time in what felt like forever. 

  It wasn’t much, you knew that. But it was still enough to ease the knot building in your throat. Enough to bring a small smile to your face as you nodded. “Mnm! Okay, I’ll see you tonight then.”

   “Mnm, alright,” he said, a small, slightly strained smile coming to rest on his own lips.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  The apartment was almost completely dark when the lock to the front door chimed, alerting the darkness that someone had arrived. The figure that stepped through was slumped over, backpack sliding off one shoulder with his jacket, shoes abandoned haphazardly. 

  It took a moment for Sunghoon’s mind to catch up to his body, for it to fully sink into his bones that he was home. That he was home and it was nearly 11 pm. Home and the tv and kitchen light were both on, white letters onscreen asking the room if anyone was still watching Netflix. 

  Something in the kitchen caught his eye, a handmade vase his sister had given you for your birthday set out on the kitchen island, filled to the brim with pink, white, and purple flowers he did not recognise. 

  ’Oh’

  It was his birthday. 

  That’s why you’d asked him to come home on time. 

  Sunghoon groaned, face twisting with what could only be described as pain as he quickly set his bag down by the front door and made his way to your shared bedroom. You were usually asleep by this time, unable to pull all-nighters the way you used to back when you were in high school, always out like a light by no later than 10:30 every night. 

  ’But she still stays up every night waiting for you,’ a voice in his head hisses.

  ’I know… fuck I know she does,’ his own voice replies, panic setting in when he finds your room empty, the bed neatly made, not even a dent to show that you’d been laying in it while working on your laptop during the day. 

  ’She’s not here… are you surprised? How long did you expect her to wait?’ the voice whispers, a chill cascading down his spine.

  The panic sets in with more vigor, wrapping round his throat and sending his tired mind into overdrive as he checks the bathroom, your home office, and finally the dark living room. Fear telling him that this was it. 

  He’d really gone and done it now. 

  He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew the moment you stood in the middle of your bedroom floor instead of closing the distance between you and wrapping your arms around his waist, choosing instead to clutch your favorite duvet like a lifeline, wincing when you heard his voice, all because you wanted to ask him to come home… he knew right then that he’d been an absolute idiot. 

  He’d meant to come home early, to be there to make it up to you, to apologise properly, tell you that he’d take some time off as soon as the update was done and dusted. 

  But he didn’t. He let work sweep him up again. Drowning in error messages and buggy code till the sky outside his office windows was filled with the flickering lights of the city at night. 

  And now… now you weren’t there. 

  He’d left you alone. 

  He’d left you alone too long and you were gone. 

  You were gone. 

  You were gone and-

  ’Oh.’

  There you were. 

  The relief when Sunghoon sees you–curled up on the couch, partially hidden by a small pile of blankets and stuffed animals–is immediate.

  He doesn’t really register the way he sighs your name, shoulders relaxing, body melting into the floor the moment he’s in front of you, hand brushing a few messy strands of hair out of your face. The need to feel the warmth of your skin, to confirm that you really are there in front of him more an instinct than a conscious decision. 

  You mumble something in your sleep, tilting your face away from his cold fingertips, eyes fluttering open. “Hoon… hi baby… welcome home,” you say tiredly, shifting under your blankets in an attempt to pull yourself up. 

  Sunghoon feels his heart crack in his chest. Why were you smiling at him? You should've been angry. You should've pushed him away, demanded to know why he was back so late, why he'd been neglecting you in the first place. 

  “Baby? My love… why are you crying?” you ask, reaching for him through the haze of sleep still clinging to your limbs. 

  Choking back a sob, he leans closer, tucking his head under your chin and doing his best to wrap an arm around you from his place on the carpeted floor. “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head, though the tears soaking into your sternum say otherwise, “just missed you…”

  Your vision blurs at his words, a thread of steadily building tension and worry that had been constricting your heart for the past few weeks snapping. “Oh…” your voice shakes slightly, lungs shuddering as your breaths begin to feel lighter, “I’m right here you goose, what’re you crying for?” 

  “Who says I’m crying,” he says, hoarse with tears. 

  “Right right,” you laugh despite the dampness now soaking through your own cheeks, “because my baby never cries, huh?” 

  “Never,” he sniffles, nuzzling closer.

  You stay like that for a while, eventually urging him to sit more comfortably on the couch, allowing you to settle yourself on his lap, his arms still wrapped firmly round your waist, hands occasionally kneading whatever part of you he was in contact with as if he needed to assure himself that you were there, solid and real. 

  He waits until he feels your heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm, trying his best to calm down so his own can match yours, beat for beat. The way it–in his opinion–should. 

  But it wouldn’t, there were words lodged in his throat, and every time he tried to get them out he felt that same panic wash over him, sending his heart into a frenzy. 

  You could feel like beating against your cheek, could sense that there was something he wasn’t saying from the way his grip on you would tighten almost imperceptibly, stiffening as if he was bracing himself for something. A part of you wanted to push him, prompt him and ask what was going through his head, why you’d woken up to the sight of him crying in the dim light of your living room. And you would’ve if he hadn’t beat you to it. 

  “I’m sorry, (y/n).”

  “What do you mean? For being late? I know you can’t help it, Hoon, it’s not some-”

  “No! I mean yes, I’m sorry for being late tonight but… I mean… I mean for everything… for not being… here, with you, like this… as often as I should be, I’m sorry,” he says, the hands at your sides nervously fidgeting with the fabric at your hips, nervously looking between your face and the static tv screen behind you. 

  Sunghoon had never been good with words. You’d learned early on in your relationship that he preferred to show how he felt through his actions. Yet here he was, fumbling through an apology because… because… 

  “My love… did you think I’d left?” you ask, gently cupping his face with one hand, urging him to look at you. 

  Puffy red eyes still wet with tears, messy unkempt hair from running his hands through it all day, tired and probably as emotionally spent as you’d ever seen him and still… still he was the most beautiful person in the world to you. He nodded, hiding his face in your chest again, hands stilling. 

  “Well,” you sigh, resting your chin on top of his head and running a hand through the hair at the back of his head, combing through it in a way he swears only you can, “at least you know you’ve got things you need to make up for…”

  “I know… I forgot for a while… but I know…”

  “That’s okay then,” you breathe, leaning back to kiss his forehead. “But Sunghoon… baby… darling… the love of my life… my little pookie bear… “ you both giggle a little at the pet names, “You know I’d never leave you over something like this right? I was sad, and hurt, and I still expect you to make it up to me by never doing this again but… I still love you, it only hurts because I love you… I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sunghoon pauses for a moment, letting your words sink in. You think that when he looks up, lips slightly parted, it’s to say something in response, but you really should’ve known better. 

  Slowly, giving you enough time to pull away should you choose to, his breath mingling with yours before he steals it away with a soft, lingering kiss. Neither of you is in any rush to take things further. 

  It feels like a small eternity before he pulls away, like time stills for you both, but then he’s pressing his lips to your jaw, butterfly kisses tickling you down to your pulse point, making you giggle so you almost miss it when he says, “I love you too… so much…” 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  It isn’t until the next day when you’re shuffling into your home office dressed in one of his oversized jerseys, complaining about a meeting that he remembers the flowers he’d seen on the kitchen island.

  Pulling out his phone, he makes good use of his detective skills (and google lens), remembering all the times you’d spoken to him about the language of flowers, and the meanings behind certain blooms. 

  He wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry once he’d figured it out, opting to dig through the cabinets for a pack of waffle mix to fix you some breakfast instead. He had a lot of apologies to make…

Baby’s Breath: pure everlasting love

Pink Camellias: longing for you

Forget-me-nots: true love memories, do not forget me

[dxrkl1ght]

GIFT ANIMATION

After a year and a half... IT'S DONE!!!

DCA! Serial Killer AU by @ayyy-imma-ninja & @moonlit-dreamers

Hope you two like it!! :3

Just wanted to make something for the AU because I love it with all my heart. Like, I love Sun and Moon in this, the plot, too. It's just amazing, dude. Can't wait to see how the story goes!!

My rambling under the cut-

First of all, I just wanna apologize for how long it took me to finish this qwq

I'm no professional animator and I made a ton of mistakes in the process of making this-

I've always liked crime/detective shows since I was little so I think that kind of explains why I love this AU so much XD

I tried to get as much of the AU into the animation as possible. There are also some unintentional and intentional references to the comic Meg made last year (ex. Sun tugging on his glove, etc.)

When I said I was gonna 'fix' older frames I actually meant "redraw almost the entire animation". Why? My style has changed a lot ever since I started this project. The first half looked so poorly drawn compared to the second half, and there were some scenes that I didn't like or didn't make sense.

I still have the old frames saved and oh boy... you CAN see the big difference and improvement... there are some I posted here some time ago that do not appear in this now. There are some scenes I did leave there, I think it's noticeable which ones because of the style

That's all I have to say I think yee :3

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"One of these days." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

For you and your husband, trying to find the right time to have a little fun is not always so easy.

A/N: Just a imagine that made me smile while I was writing it hehe, so I hope you guys enjoy it a bit too. Thanks! (with a small appearance of Denise fearing Daryl XD) (Not my gif!)

Daryl lifts you up for you to sit in the counter of the living room, his lips crashing against yours in a hard kiss as his hands pulls you close to him by the waist, the heat of your bodies getting mixed with the sole idea of ​​feeling each other after almost two weeks apart.

The last search for supplies had taken longer than usual, and between his arrival and your days and sleepless nights in the infirmary accompanying some sick people with Denise, the bed in your home had only recognized one lonely body.

Now, your hand tangle in his hair kissing him back, his tongue playing with yours, getting from your husband a low grunt when your legs pull him close, feeling the bulge in his pants against you. Taking a ragged breath before sinking back into your skin, Daryl takes your black t–shirt off and his hands caress your soft skin as he kisses your neck, missing the contact with it; and too excited to waste time because he has to leave again soon. But your mind clouds with desire like a foggy morning, so you push his vest out of his body and start unbuttoning his shirt while Daryl kisses the skin between your breasts, making you moan.

“Do we really have time to do this?” You try to be reasonable, but your hands are still holding onto the buckle of his pants.

“Yeah…” He said, in a low, deep voice, but Daryl couldn't care less if he is late as he starts to unbutton your jeans. “Lemme get ya ready.”

There was something extremely hot when he did that, like being in a beautiful hell in the way Daryl always ate you up first, like it was his duty, and his words make you lick your dry lip, feeling his on your belly that contracts with the heat of his tongue.

But when he is about to pull your jeans down, someone knocks the door, insistently.

“Shit…” He grunts in frustration, getting up.

“Coming!” You get off the counter, putting your t–shirt back while he does the same with his shirt.

You start fixing your jeans as you walk toward the door to open it, feeling your cheeks red and hot while you smile at Denise.

“Hey, Denise.”

“Hey, (Y/N).” She smiles back. “Is Daryl home? I hope he hasn’t left yet.”

You nod, clearing your throat in fear that your voice will crack.

“He’s getting ready. Something happened?”

“No, no…” She moves her hand in the air, pulling a paper of her jean pocket next. “I forgot to write some things on the list I gave him yesterday.”

Behind you, the door opens and Daryl walks out, dressed and with his crossbow and his backpack around his body. He looks normal, his hair is kind of messy, but it usually is so nobody could tell the difference.

“Oh, hey…” Denise smiles at him, and he nods once at her while taking the paper, his personality usually becoming silent with people he didn't feel comfortable with yet. “I just wanted to give you this. Sorry to bother you.”

“No. It’s okay…” You say and look at your husband. “Daryl has to go now. Right, love?”

Daryl looks back at you, frustrated for your interrupted play time.

“Yeah. I better go.” He kisses your temple and looks at Denise. “Bye.”

He goes down the steps of the porch, walking away.

“Remember to keep it cool.” You chuckle, referring to his erection that would take time to get down. “And please be careful.”

Looking over his shoulder, Daryl waves his hand in the air, because that is his special way of telling you that he will be.

Life within the walls of Alexandria moves slowly, calmly like a sleeping river instead of feeling like wild waves, giving you and the family you made when that new world arose, a sense of peace after having been wandering out there for so long, dangerously all the time. Fortunately, life there is kind of quiet, and that had stopped the chaos in your worlds and the fear that some members of the family sometimes fell into. But that night, as you return home from work, you can allow yourself the luxury of admiring the bright moon that shines and illuminates your path, as a sign that for that moment at least, the darkness of the world is no longer as terrifying as it used to be.

“Were you married to Daryl before all this, (Y/N)? Or did you meet him when all this madness started?”

Denise is reserved and shy, but there is also a sweetness in her that is still preserved, like a living proof that there are still good people.

“We actually met like two years before all this.” The memory makes you smile at her, a latent feeling awakening in your heart with some shyness. “We had been married for a few months when the dead started to rise.”

Denise nods, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Daryl is… intimidating…” She chuckles nervously, but there is something in your soft laugh that encourages her to continue. “But in this time that you two have been living here I have noticed the way he looks at you, or how Daryl looks for you with his eyes in a room full of people, at community meetings for example. But he is not very talkative, is he?”

You laugh again, a little longer this time as you see your husband sitting on the porch steps a few houses away.

"Daryl is quiet, very reserved, and has a hard time letting people into his life, but when he feels like he can trust people, you can tell that Daryl cares a lot about them."

“And he was the same with you?”

You think about that, remembering that when he saw that he could trust you, Daryl became open to showing his own vulnerabilities, only with you, so it was easier to fall for him. Plus, he was and is still hot as hell.

“Something like that...” You nod softly. “Trust me, a couple of times I was close to throwing something at his head for being so stubborn and surly, but Daryl has a good heart. Just give him time to get used to this life, okay?”

Denise nods again, falling silent as you both finally stop at your house, with her waving at him and receiving a nod in response.

“Have a good night.” Her gaze meets yours, and you smile at her before she walks away to her own home.

And when Denisse is away, you chuckle as you walk over to the porch to sit next to Daryl.

“What’s so damn funny?”

“She’s terrified of you.” You chuckle even more as his brow furrows, his gaze on yours. “You scared the poor woman.”

Confused, Daryl watches the path Denisse took, for a few seconds before looking back at you.

“Did I do somethin' wrong?”

“No. It’s just that you’re so quiet that she feels kind of shy. But you could try talking to her a little, don’t you think?”

Even more confused, Daryl's gaze takes in an empty spot beside you, the white picket fence before looking back at you, again.

"What should I say?"

You shrug.

"I don't know. Maybe say something more than just a hey." When your hand makes contact with his cheek, Daryl leans into your touch. "Maybe show her that you are a sweetheart."

He scoffs.

"I ain't a sweetheart."

“What are you talking about? You are a sweetheart with me.”

"Yeah, but jus’ ‘cause I love ya."

His words make you smile as you both lean into each other's lips. After Daryl let you in, you realized he had a lot to offer as a person with a good and brave heart. He was always a good company: he made you feel protected, in the old world too and even when you could protect yourself, but above all, it was damn cute to see him get embarrassed when you teased him, always masking his blush with a scoff.

But when things get hot, like now, Daryl can be even hotter as you feel his hands on your waist, searching for the warmth of your skin under your t–shirt until he finds it, sliding his calloused fingers over your flesh, sinking you into a new kind of desire. His touch is a silent plea for you to climb his lap, and you do, his hands holding you against him as his mouth takes yours in a hot kiss. Daryl chokes a grunt in your mouth, but you can feel his erection and he pushes your body down, dying to be inside you.

“Let’s do it here.” He says against your mouth. “S’ dark and late and everyone is sleepin’.”

“Wow. That’s kinky.” You chuckle, your hands searching for his belt as he kisses your neck. But since life has a sense of humor, you can see the light of the living room turn on through the window, seeing Carol coming closer to the door. “Wait…”

Daryl grunts in frustration, again when you get off his lap, but he learns forward a little bit to hide the bulge on his pants when Carol opens the door of the house you all share.

“Hey, guys, I thought you two were sleeping…” She says, smiling affectionately at you two. “I was looking for some water and I saw the kitchen light was already on, but… did I interrupt something?”

“No.” Daryl says looking over his shoulder, in a low, hoarse voice.

She looks at you, but you only smile shaking your head.

“Okay, then. Goodnight.” Carol waves her hand before closing the door again.

You wave her back, your own body falling against the railing.

“And… strike two.” You sigh when Daryl lay down on the floor, covering his eyes with his arm.

That night, you may have used the shadows and darkness of your room to make love, but it still felt weird about doing it knowing that you and Daryl lived with Carol and Tara, even though you are a married couple, but at the same time, the thought made you laugh: because it felt wrong like the first time Daryl climbed through your bedroom window when you two were dating, before the world went to hell, because that night, everything became adult content.

The next morning, the day started early with you organizing the new medications that had been found during the last supply run, alone in the infirmary, accompanied by a comfortable silence as Denise took a day off to explore her new relationship with Tara. And it was nice to think about that, in the mounting nerves that came with finding out things about the other person, the way you looked at her or him, the smiles and the shy laughs, the way your world suddenly seemed to fit together perfectly with them.

But when a knock on the door brings you out of your thoughts, you're surprised to see Daryl on the other side when you open it.

"What are you doing here, sir?"

"What? I can't visit ma wife at work?" He walks in, looking around as you close the door again. You walk back to the desk, stopping in front of the last few medicine bottles in the center. "On ma way here I saw Denise."

"You talked?"

Daryl, who was still walking around the room, stops, frowning in confusion.

"I ain’t a mute, woman."

You laugh.

"I didn't mean it like that, I meant that since we got here you haven't said more than one word to her."

Daryl mutters something under his breath, turning his attention back to the place as you continue reading the open book at your side. He spends like a minute in silence, reading the medicine descriptions from the shelves or touching the medical instruments, at least until you feel his body against you from behind, his hands on your waist as Daryl breathes in the smell of apples in your hair, thanks to the bottle of shampoo that came with the house.

Your tied hair gives him the freedom to kiss your exposed neck, and your belly flexes at the touch of his hands.

"I knew you came to see me for other reasons."

Daryl chuckles, and you breathe in, feeling the tingling between your legs.

“I've missed ya, I've missed the warmth of yer body.” His voice is always low, but it gets sexier when you feel that he’s that happy to see you. “And we haven’t done it in weeks.”

You gulp, feeling his hand slipping down on the skin from your belly under your t–shirt, and your palms pressed against the wood when his hand gets lost under your jeans.

“Yeah, but–uh…” You gasp through your parted lips when Daryl rubs his fingers against your folds, over your underwear just to tease you.

“(Y/N)?”

But that is not his voice. Daryl removes his hand, cursing under his breath when you two see a person standing from the other side of the blur glass of the door. You sigh in frustration while walking towards it to opening. Rosita is smiling too when your eyes meet, and you let her walk in.

“Hi, Daryl.” She waves her hand.

“Hey…” Daryl says back, leaning over the desk.

“Sorry to bother you, (Y/N), but I need something stronger than an aspirin. Abraham fell on his butt during the run and he keeps complaining.” She rolls her eyes. “Do you have something?”

You nod.

“Yes, of course.” You walk toward the shelf on the wall behind Daryl, smiling to yourself as he tries to hide his erection. You take two painkillers from a bottle and go back to Rosita. “If a man as big as he complains of pain it must be serious.”

“No. He’s just a big baby.” She smiles at you and Daryl, waving her hand again before walking out. “Thank you. Bye.”

And she leaves, closing the door behind her. But when you turn, and to your surprise, Daryl doesn’t seem to be so frustrated as you think he would be.

“Whatever is going through your mind…” You chuckle. “It scares me.”

“I got an idea.” He smirks. “And this time ya ain’t escapin' from me, so finish quickly whatever ya're doin’ here.”

You narrow your eyes for a moment, giving him a confused look before finishing your chores.

But what is to come (pun intended) is about to come hard.

There, alone with him, your head falls back against the thin mattress inside the last cellblock, the view of the white ceiling disappearing when you close your eyes, mouth open with a hot moan when Daryl makes you cum. Your grip on his hair loses strength as he gets up from between your legs to kneel, his hand replacing his tongue you to help you ride your orgasm. You let the air of your body go, finally going down from that high ecstasy after a moment as Daryl climbs over your body to be on top of you, shirtless, with his pants hanging now from his waist.

“That was jus’ an extra.” He smiles sideways, part of his long hair covering part of his face, while your chest goes up and down with each breath.

“Yeah… I noticed it.”

Daryl chuckles getting up, but his smile dies when you two hear someone opening the front door of the basement.

“Stay here.” He says, fixing his pant as you put on your t–shirt that covers your thighs.

Daryl walks out of there, putting on his shirt as you put your jeans back on. Counting the few minutes in silence as you wait, he comes back frowning.

“Oh, no.” You chuckle. “What happened?”

“He jus’ came to read.” Daryl says, his voice full of sarcasm, lifting up his hands to mock of that person. “Yeah, right… I’m sure he jus’ wanted to jerk off in private.”

You laugh, falling on the mattress, laying down sideways to look at him.

“Who?”

“Eugene.” Daryl grunts, pushing his hand through his hair. “Fuck…”

You keep looking at him: he’s frustrated even after making love, but Daryl looks so funny complaining for something so little.

“Come here.” You say opening your arms for him. “Come.”

Daryl exhales, his expression softening, and he walks towards you as you lay down on your back with him on top of you now, holding his face to kiss him softly before pulling apart to look into his blue eyes.

“Calm down, tiger: everything is fine.”

“Yeah… now it is.” He whispers with his lips an inch from yours, his deep gaze on yours. "But ya know what I was thinkin’?"

"What?"

"That’s ‘bout time we get a fuckin’ house of our own, 'cause I'm tired of sneakin’ around to make love to ma own wife."

You chuckle at his words, but they make you smile, too.

“I think that’s a very good idea, love.”

@fluffy-dixon

[bleue-flora]

It never ceases to amaze me about how many different dehumanizing labels Dream is cast in. The tyrant, the green boy, the bad guy, the wrong’un, the villain, a psycho, psychopath (which tbh are already rather kinda extreme for his supposed crimes especially at the beginning when they started). But then they go further, calling him a snake thing, pure evil, a monster [clip], a freaking ghoul [clip], even to the point of calling him Lucifer in the finale - The Biblical incarnate of evil [clip].

And what’s really interesting is the inconsistency in which Dream reacts - because on one hand he should stand up for himself, but on the other maybe he should just lean into it and maybe they’ll leave him alone. Maybe the fear and label can be his defense instead of their offense. And that gives him control over it, turns him from the victim to the victor.

In the disc confrontation, Tommy calls him pure evil and asks “how do you sleep at night”, to which he responds “just fine” [clip] {oddly, directly contradicting his comment to Techno about no sleeping btw lol…}. Later, he talks about building the prison with a “little bit of evil” but then counters Tommy’s accusation of calling him evil again with “evil is in the eye of the beholder” and “you’re evil to me” [clip].

In the finale, towards the end, Tommy talks about how he saw Dream as nothing but The villain but that isn’t true, and surprisingly Dream disagrees by saying “I am. I tortured you” [clip] {also contradicting what he says to Sam in Daedalus…}. Which is interesting. In the finale, he also makes statements like ‘we can’t because we’re soo evil’ and “we have done plenty of evil evil things” [clip] (which Punz actually counters with “not for no reason.”) But in instances when they call him a psycho and psychopath he has a different reaction saying “huh, I mean, I wouldn’t say that,” [clip] “I’m not a psycho. Everything I do is deliberate” [clip] and, in the finale, “you guys are psychos. You broke in and tried—and killed me in my own house—the prison.” [clip]

One of the keys here I think is the distinction of having reasons - he’s not evil for kicks, he has a reason and motive and logic behind it. Something, in the finale, he questions whether Tommy has, first because he broke in and killed him unfounded and then towards the end of the stream asking about why he constantly steals and griefs and stuff, “why are you trying to ruin everything all the time.” [clip] - What was your reason? Because that mattered to Dream, someone can do evil things but they have their reasons, it’s when they don’t that they are more so truly evil.

He may have done evil things, he may even be the villain, but in his mind he’s not a psycho or pure evil, or a monster because he has reasons, there is a reason he did the things he did, there is a reason he ended up here. Not that those make his deeds justified and less evil (like Sam and Quackity more so believe) but that just makes him a person, who sure does evil, but also feels, and has reasons, desires, and motivations…etc. Just like everyone else. He doesn’t even see Quackity, who confessed to being sadistic and spent months torturing him, as pure evil or even a psychopath instead saying sarcastically in Daedalus, “like Quackity ‘cause he’s full of feelings… He’s totally not a sociopath…” because that distinction between sociopath and psychopath in Dream’s mind is important. Quackity is a bad person but he isn’t the embodiment of evil, he’s just a person who did evil things.

During the first war, Wilbur calls him a little lizard snake thing, to which Dream responds “I’m powerful” [clip]. Which is strange and kinda sad to me that despite being called an actual animal(s), one more importantly often representing evil like Lucifer the snake, he doesn’t counteract it. Maybe because he’s tired of Wilbur calling him similar dehumanizing terms or tired of arguing with Wilbur in general, since everyone believes him anyways. Regardless, he instead rephrases Wilbur’s words - maybe I am a lizard or a snake but you better not step on me because I am venomous and powerful. Which aligns pretty well with his monologue [transcript] where he talks about “Do snakes just bite?” or is there a reason. Because maybe he can’t change Wilbur and Tommy’s metaphor and maybe he can’t change the label of evil despite his attempts because everyone believes them instead, but maybe he can try and use their own words to defend himself. Maybe then they’ll see him as an actual person. {or not…}

[starryreading]

So they don’t remember that but at some point my best friend (who is queer themselves) and I were on a walk and they proposed to me the idea that I might be aroace and I literally just brushed it off with “but I like reading romance novels” and then never talked about that or thought about it again for a very long time. I suppose that I didn’t know what the labels meant at that time but now that I actually identify as aroace this is kinda ironic.

[rainyfey]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Okarun was crying and begging for Momo to run away! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MY BONES D,: This is so well done, it really conveys fear and anguish! I congratulate you, your art is amazing :D... What other negative effects could Okarun's curse have? Thank you

Omg anon you made my day when you sent this!!! Thank you so so much for taking the time to write such lovely things 😭💕 I'm very flattered that you liked that little detail so much! I had wondered if I'd written it too messily for anyone to read XD

Anyhoo, here is a sketch page for you~

I'm more of a draw-er than a words-er, but I wanted to ramble a bit here under the cut ^^ Thanks again for the ask, I am so happy to have another reason to yap about Turbo Okarun~

While I'm glad that the manga/anime didn't spend too much time on Okarun's struggles in canon, I am having So Much Fun thinking of ways to torture this guy haha. We see him complaining that the curse hurts him in the first half of the season, but he doesn't actually seem to end up with any lasting damage! In my mind, it'd make sense for him to end up more fatigued or to suffer from random nosebleeds or other internal injuries due to the curse manipulating his body the way it does.

I also looooved the instances in episodes 5/6 when he transformed without meaning to! Very fun to see his emotions getting the better of him~

Now, if I were a fic writer, I would be so interested in exploring physical side effects in something like a sick fic. What if he detransforms and finds that he can't warm back up? Still corpse-cold like his yokai form instead of human temperature? Or, I could take a page out of NatsuYuu's book and have him come down with a cold/fever as a consequence of some of his tougher fights? Lots of good potential for angst there, for sure ^^

And lastly, what if he was on a timer the minute he transformed?? What if staying transformed and going all out began chipping away at his sanity? It's not his power, after all. Stay in Turbo Mode too long and suddenly he's a prisoner in his own mind. The curse takes over and he's just along for the ride, no longer able to control his body. >:3

Aaand that's it for now! Thank you for your support and for listening to my rambling haha. I hope you enjoyed the art/headcanons ^^

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

I share this frustration 100%, and I got a good chuckle out of this post. I've been thinking about this for a while now, and since this post seems like it's getting passed around, I thought it might be fun to answer the (probably rhetorical) question.

The kanji 地 by itself does mean "earth," yes. However, it's in a kanji compound with 縛, making 地縛, which is a shortened version of 地縛霊 (jibakurei). Jibakurei are spirits that are bound to the place where they died or to a place that is important to them for whatever reason. So in this context, I think "earth" is too general of a translation. If the ghost is bound to land at all, it's a specific plot of land, not the earth as opposed to the sky or sea.

That said, if we're going to insert a location, "school-bound" might work too. My guesses as to why they didn't do this are:

In chapter 1, Yashiro goes looking for Hanako-san of the Toilet (from the real and well-known urban legend), and Hanako also introduces himself as "of the toilet." (Worth noting that "bathroom" is as good as or a better translation of トイレ.)

Hanako's domain is the bathroom, at least with the information we had in the first few volumes. There are plenty of other supernaturals around the school, but Hanako is specifically in the bathroom. Because of this, I think the toilet/bathroom is actually a pretty logical location to choose.

"School-bound Hanako-kun" sounds like some kid on his way to school. This does not sound remotely interesting. Both Japanese and English marketing and legal departments and company higher-ups tend to be involved in titles more than they are in the rest of the translation process, so many things besides the strictly "best translation" are considered. (On the other hand, my sister and I both assumed "toilet-bound" meant the MC had IBS or something at first, so I don't know if that's better. But at least it's intriguing!)

TLDR: Earth-bound is a literal translation of the kanji, but not the word the kanji are actually taken from. There are a few reasons they might've gone with the title they did, but none of that erases the fact that EVERY TIME I try to recommend it to someone, I have to recite my whole, "yeah that's the title but I SWEAR it has nothing to do with toilets, almost nothing, please would you please just look at a couple of these covers and interior spreads WHY ARE YOU RUNNING AWAY IT'S RIGHT UP YOUR ALLEY JUST READ THE FIRST CHAPTER PLEASE"

WHY did they translate "地縛少年花子くん" to "Toilet Bound Hanako-Kun", it's literal translation is "Hanako-kun, a boy bound to the earth", which makes sense with his whole "I love the moon but I'm not going anywhere" shtick, he's bound to the school not the FUCKING TOILET