#idk exactly where I was going with this

[louellaby]

「 With You Under It All 」

When an animation attempt turned into an illustration...

[alchely]

I'm having such a great time watching Interview with the Vampire and coming here with people speculating based on the books regarding how the story will unfold. Then every once in a while I come across someone who has a stick up their ass about how the TV series is deviating from the source material and I really just wanna put a hand on their shoulder and go like "dude, breathe".

IWTV is a GREAT story and an even better TV show, be grateful that so many people whose only experience with this story will be this adaptation (ppl like me, I have never and likely will never even watch the movie) are watching something so high quality to learn about your beloved characters.

I had these same nitpicky thoughts when the One Piece Live Action came out, but over time I had to come to terms with two things-

One: ppl who had never and will never read the source material really liked the story despite the minor plot holes and slight inaccuracies the adaptation had created that "were better explained in the original".

Two: the adaptation was good in every way that counts, it kept the soul of the original work, kept all the major plot points and themes.

Y'all should really get off your high horses

[hinamie]

i'm exactly as normal about him as I thought I'd be

[stoopidstapler]

SO IVE BEEN GOIN INSANE SINCE THIS TRAILER DROPPED. JUST. SIMON. SIMON. SIMON.

[jondoe279]

atp i genuinely doooon’t care if the old guard two is the worst thing put to film i just want to see the best character of all time (andromache the scythian) and her loser henchmen and everyone’s favorite girl nile freeman again

[brainrot-stitch]

Doodles from a dw rp I was just in!!! Honestly the best one I've had so far lol

Out of character that vs in character chat😭

Omg crazyy...

😭😭😭random

[marragurl]

Saxaphone player Gallagher has not left my mind since the jazz night art dropped AND THEN Robin saying Halovian’s innately have good voices and Sunday used to hum lullabies to her as kids happened in the 2.2 special program, and I’m sure you guys can see where my unfortunate Galladay heart is going with this.

Whoever decided to make this art, I love you. I hope your pillow is cool every night, you’re never stuck in traffic, and your water is refreshing with every sip.

Also the art of Sunday with the White Gentlemen drink in the S.P.A.R.K.L.E jazz night event has also spiraled into me delusionally thinking that’s his go to drink. Which is hilarious since Robin has hinted before that he seems to have a massive sweet tooth in her letters.

(Sunday how do you even make holding a drink menacing, Sunday please get some therapy-)

So imagine this:

Pre 2.0 Galladay, where they’re both wary and suspicious of each other but didn’t do anything outright. Sunday slowly began to visit Gallagher’s bar whenever he had time to observe the Hound, initially on the down low just to get a sense of what he was working with and what to keep an eye on. He always gravitated to that one corner booth that every bar had with the most privacy, and just stalked there for a few hours before leaving. (Smol menacing birb in a tree vibes)

Gallagher obviously knew that Sunday was doing this (even though everyone else seemed to somehow completely miss him, Gallagher wouldn’t be surprised if Sunday was doing some weird Harmony mind tricks), and after the first few “stakeouts,” he bit the bullet and actually approached the table to engage with Sunday, on the off chance this was some weird “test of loyalty” by the Halovian to see if the Hound would swallow his pride to serve his so-called masters.

Nothing terrible happened, but he remained passive-aggressively polite when serving him, and Sunday remained passive-aggressively cool-headed in response. There was some snark of what dear “sweet-toothed” Sunday would want at a bar, and an icy reply of “aren’t you the master drink smith? Why don’t you show me those skills you boasted about?” which led to Gallagher being petty and giving Sunday the White Gentlemen drink, both for the story behind it being such a metaphor for Sunday, and because it was on the more bitter side of alcoholic drinks.

Sunday wasn’t too against the drink; it wasn’t something he would have ordered if it had been his choice, but it wasn’t a bad drink by any means. He couldn’t help but continue to drink it even after Gallagher left his little hidey booth to go back to the main bar, but he’d never stoop so low as to complement the Hound. Of course, he never ordered anything else from then on, only White Gentleman. In fact, over time it seemed to slowly get better, the flavors grew on him, and he couldn't help but look forward to it during difficult nights in the Dreamscape.

If Gallagher tried to needle him into a different drink, Sunday just bit back a “oh? Admitting defeat? I thought this was your best drink for me?” with a little smirk while Gallagher had to use every bit of self-control to not punch him in the face.

As time went on, the bar slowly became a place Sunday frequented to not quite relax, but to get away from the hustle and bustle of Penacony and his duties as one of its main faces. The stresses slowly started piling up, especially with the Charmony fast approaching in a few months and all that came with it.

Gallagher didn’t seem to loosen up regarding his attitude with Sunday, but he did get better at shoving down the visceral hatred he had for everything to do with The Family and Sunday as time went on. He didn’t get soft with Sunday per se, but he definitely kept an eye out for him, and definitely knew when to cut off his drinks on days where it seemed that Sunday wasn’t all that there for their usual veiled comments towards one another when he went to serve him his drink.

It started small, with Sunday staying later and later until sometimes he was the last one to leave the bar to return to reality. Gallagher wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, still wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t some weird long-term test Sunday was devising, especially since he still seemed to be the same ruthless Family member, the same Head of the Oak Family, when Gallagher was working as a Bloodhound outside the bar. For some reason though, within the enclosed space of this strange sanctuary, it was almost peaceful between the two.

One night, there was something wrong when Sunday entered the bar during Gallagher’s shift. He saw a bit of a crowd near the small stage that was within eyesight of his little hidey booth, it seemed some of the musicians of the live band were arguing? He watched as Gallagher came over, seemed to try to speak with the group before honing in on one of the musicians who had been making the most noise and seemed to be about to get physical with the rest. Sunday watched as Gallagher picked up the musician by the scruff of their suit with one hand and carried them towards the doors and lightly tossed them out.

(It was the first time Sunday had actually seen Gallagher perform anything resembling the actual duty of a Bloodhound. It only hit him that he’d only ever seen the other when giving reports, orders, or at the bar. Why was this so shocking to him, he’d seen the man’s arms before, hard not to with his slovenly dress and messy clothing style, as if he couldn’t bother to hide away his imperfections from the world, not like Sunday who refused to be seen by the world, to dare to show one thing off about himself despite his countless failings- he’s getting far too distracted by one meager showing of strength, focus Sunday)

There had always been a live music segment. Sunday was curious to see what would happen with the band missing a member, but was distracted by Gallagher placing his usual White Gentlemen in front of him before heading back to the musicians without a single word to him. Gallagher took a moment to speak with the rest of the band, who seemed to be coming out of their shock and took on worried looks. Sunday could only watch in muted shock as Gallagher went behind the bar and came back with a case, opening it to reveal a saxophone. He then went on stage with the rest of the group, positioned himself further to the side and in the back amongst the shadows within Sunday’s line of sight, and played with the band for the rest of the night.

Sunday couldn’t look away.

He was frozen as he watched Gallagher seamlessly transition from song to song, taking only small breaks to continue serving the other patrons before heading back in. Sunday only remembered about his own drink when his gloves began to get wet from the ice melting into condensation on his glass.

Something felt off within Sunday, and for the first time since Robin’s debut, he couldn't help humming to the music of the band, music that wasn’t of his own sister’s making. He couldn’t help but remember those little concerts the two would have, taking care of his little sister, his only world. He would do anything to keep the Harmony, to keep their family going. When was the last time they truly spent time together? Before he became the Head of the Oak Family? Before he couldn't recognize his own smile?

He was so lost in his thoughts, in memories he thought he buried, that he didn’t realize that it was once again closing time, and he was once again the last one left. He only snapped out of it when Gallagher came by to grab his empty glass, only quirking a questioning brow at him before heading back to the bar.

Gallagher had been keeping a quiet eye on the Halovian that night from the back of the band, in the shadows he felt the most comfort in when in the Dreamscape of Penacony. He had watched Sunday’s eyes glaze over, and the only reason he hadn’t felt offended by the seeming disinterest was the look in the other man’s eyes reminding him of his own when he looked in the mirror. The same look of shame, regret, loss, longing, of the wishes to regain everything he had lost. The same look he strove to hide under every bit of the facade he had crafted of this new self, but came back all too often with every reference of the Family found within his prison in the Dreamscape.

Maybe it was the shared nostalgia within his own heart, that little bit of his true self that he thought died when the Family tore out everything that made him who he was, that made him return behind the bar and begin making Sunday another White Gentlemen, giving Sunday a small nod to beckon him over. He wasn’t expecting anything from it, and he masked his own surprise when Sunday actually left his little shelter to come and take a seat in front of him at the bar. Even while out of it, Gallagher made note of the quiet confidence the other still carried himself. Nothing seemed wrong to anyone else looking at him, only for the lost look in his eyes.

The first time in the many months that they’ve been skirting around each other, and finally they seemed to be face to face.

It was quiet as Gallagher made Sunday his usual drink, a drink he had been slowly changing over the months to be sweeter and sweeter that Sunday never quite seemed to notice, or if he did, he never said anything, only seeming to savor it more each subsequent night. Maybe not even Gallagher noticed his own changes to the drink, subtle as they were.

It was quiet as Sunday took the finished drink, and it was quiet as his eyes slid over the bartop to see the saxophone case laying open with the instrument inside. It was quiet as Gallagher followed his eyes, as he came out from behind the bartop to take the saxophone out and take a seat in a chair only one seat down from Sunday’s. It was quiet as Gallagher began to play to his audience of one.

It was quiet as Sunday quietly hummed along.

It was quiet as they both knew that it would not last.

OK yea so this was all because I heard ‘La vie en rose’ at the end of the Jazz night event and went “Damn I wish that’s Gallagher playing on his Sax” and then we spiraled.

Uh. Idk what it is with me having a small ship moment which then spirals into a full blown writing session. My mind blanked out and as I came to I find out that I made a whole ass little one shot over here then completely forgot about it WHOOPS

So yea, hope my fellow Galladay enjoyers… enjoyed! I think I’ve slowly begun to crave… not domestic or fluff per se from these two, but after every AO3 fic being super dark between them (which I get! They are the toxic yaoi kings of Penacony as of writing this, no one is denying that!) I think I want to see them be explored in a more melancholic sense. Not quite the “forbidden” love angle, but in the “damn we kinda have some parallels, and maybe in another life we could have gotten along but there’s too much baggage and anger, both historically and currently to really even try anything”

I have this feeling this may not be the last time I write about these two… is Galladay going to be the ship that gets me to actually use my AO3 account?

[moreaugriffins]

IDK who needs to hear this, but Egon and Ray aren't the only autistic og ghostbusters

Peter is too

Your telling me this man with two PhDs related to psychology, who always has the exact right thing to say to manipulate a situation to his favour (when it's a planned/known situation), but cocks up massively when it's an unknown situation, who has a massive reaction to getting slimed (more so than the others), who would rather joke all the time than take a situation seriously because wtf should he say

you're telling me this man is neurotypical?

nah

Winston's the only NT in this group (idk how he deals with these weirdos (affectionate))

[pancakemolybdenum]

@josuyasuweek-2024 day 4: travel abroad / competition / bodyswap

a run-in with an enemy stand user on a trip to america!

[gallusgalluss]

bright bright

[therantingsage]

"....look, I know you don't believe me. But they want to meet you officially?" You say.

Loop's eyes crinkle in some kind of skepticism. "Do they, now?"

You nod.

A half-laugh, fake-sounding. "And what would that entail, exactly?"

You frown a little. "Well. I mean, they can control my body? So they can talk for me? Say hi?"

You hear Mira enthusiastically volunteer, which you expected to be honest. She was probably the best one of them for Loop to meet first. She was polite and non-threatening in most circumstances.

Loop looks you over. "Honestly. I don't really see the point. I don't really need to meet any of them, it's not like they matter to this situation." But they raise their hands in surrender, anyway. "But if it gets you to drop this, I'll humor you, Stardust. Send them in, or whatever!"

The more time that passes, the more frustrated you get with their continued disregard and disdain for your family. It hurts. It hurt before they hitched a ride in your brain, and it surely hurts more now, that they're all here to hear them say it.

Nonetheless, you pass the reigns to Mira.

It feels so weird, every time they do this. You have to fight the impulse to take back control of your limbs, because muscle memory and common sense dictate that your limbs moving on their own was not a good thing in the slightest. But the more you let them do it, the more used to the sensation you become. The easier it becomes to just....let go.

And still. When your mouth opens, your voice but her diction, it still feels alien. "Hello!" She greets. "I'm Mirabelle, but you...kn-know that already. Or maybe you don't, they didn't tell you who was coming out to greet you. I, I wanted to thank you, for being there for Siffrin when we weren't. We were so scared when we learned what he was going through. If he'd been alone....I-I don't even want to think about it."

She extends your hand towards them, and you feel your mouth curve up in a smile. "So it's very nice to meet you! We'd be honored to get to know you as well as they do!"

Loop's eyes dart, between your face and your outstretched hand, but they don't move a muscle. They don't move for a long, long while, even. Completely silent, and stone-faced.

And then they steeple their hands, something dark in their expression. Darker than you'd ever seen on them, really. "I've changed my mind, Stardust! I have absolutely no interest in continuing to play this game with you!"

Mira speaks for you again. "I-it's not a game, we're really here-"

"Really, stop being deluded, Stardust! I mean it! I'm not going to keep encouraging this behavior in you! I've already done it enough, clearly!" Their eyes widen a little. Too wide.

On reflex you steal back control of your body, shoving Mira back into the back. Something about Loop's expression frightens you. Something in it like mania, or a hysterical smile. You aren't sure how you can even tell without a mouth to judge. You just...can.

"Loop-"

"I'm only going to say this one more time, alright? So commit it to memory, since you've clearly got enough space in that head of yours to fabricate four whole other personalities~"

Like every other helpful tip message they give, the words superimpose themselves into your mind. You feel your family flinch from the sheer volume of them.

[Every time you talk to me about the family in your head, I will not give you any aid for the rest of that loop! I'm not getting paid for this, so I'd appreciate you taking my time seriously!]

You

breathe in.

You breathe out. "Fine. I understand." You stand from the root, and walk away without another word.

Loop huffs. You ignore them.

You've got four other people helping you figure this out, anyway.

[ahollowgrave]

L'APPEL DU VIDE

Mateus | Mists | W24 P29

The house Odette's great-aunt left her. Not in the mists in-character, but still cradled on the coast of Vylbrand on a decent plot of land. Most of the house remains closed off, in various states of abandonment, but the wing Odette does occupy is kept tidy. She has certainly added her own touches and has claimed an attic bedroom for her own. If you swing by for a visit please leave a message! And mind the shadows.

[liauditore]

BDUBS DAY! BDUBS DAY! BDUBS DAY! BDUBS DAY! BDUBS DAY! BDUBS DAY! BDUBS DAY! BDUBS DAY! BDUBS DAY! BDUBS DAY!

[bigkickguy]

enforcer and executor are my arknights favs

[spiritofpassionfruit]

A–Aventio TGCF idea?? Wherein Civil God Veritas Ratio meets the infamous Ghost King Aventurine during his first mission cuz cuz like— The "live for me" paralels?!? The one who has all the luck partner as well?!? The villain who was actually not the Villain this whole time!?!? The loving humanity a little too much it causes their downfall !?!?!?

Rant AU in the tags proceed with caution

[griancraft]

I'm struggling to word this but I'm finally ready to talk about it and I want people to listen.

I've noticed a type of racism in leftist communities I don't see talked about a lot. I am Quarter Japanese and I am visibly mixed, but a lot of leftists see "quarter" and assume that I don't have the right to an opinion on issues that effect me. The sentiment I've gotten from mostly white leftists is that I'm not "POC enough" for a lot of discussions.

There's this weird thing in a lot of leftist spaces where your appearance and percentage, not your experiences based on your race, are considered above all.

Meanwhile, in reality, all aspects of my identity are affected by my race and my family's experience with Japanese internment. An event which stripped them of any wealth they had acquired since moving to Canada over 50 years before the war.

An event that cause the intermarriage rate of Japanese-canadians and white Canadians to be over 90 percent post internment because we viewed proximity to whiteness as safety. An event which left them in severe poverty until my dad and aunt worked their asses off to get a degree. The generational trauma goes so deep my dad didn't want me transitioning because he was worried about what the government would do to me.

Because of my race I experienced negligence from authority figures related to pretty severe racially based bullying at 12. That negligence could have killed me. I've had to deal with microaggressions and straight up racism related to my last name on multiple occasions.

One time I was out with a friend and he grabbed my arm tight and dragged me to walk faster. A man wearing a white lives matter T-shirt was standing in the middle of the path looking directly at me when I turned around.

I'm pretty sure this wasn't based on me being feminine and goth that day, I live in a city with a decent amount of people in alt subculture and my friend was way more gothed up and queer than me. I was barely passing as a guy at that point so it wasn't because I was a man in a dress. I know this is a weaker point, but it made me realize just how unsafe I am in my own community even though I'm a mixed person in a heavily multicultural city.

Obviously, this isn't on the scale of someone who is less white passing than me and/or has more compounding marginalizations. However I've found that the fact I'm mixed race has been used against me to devalue my experience and knowledge regarding what it's like to be a POC in Canada.

I can assure you I am aware of how bad it is, and I am aware of how good I have it. I also want you to be aware that it's not all sunshine rainbows and bunny farts to be more white, it doesn't make the racism go away. It often just makes it more covert and easy to explain away because I'm "not really Japanese"