#idk what that one exactly is supposed to be

[abnomi]

IDK if i was the first to notice this or not but i havent seen anyone talk about this before!! i love going crazy over colors and now is my Chance.

something subtle but notable about Ralph's design is how he has a teal undershirt. (debatably turquoise or green or something, but it is teal in this post..sorry green/turquoise truthers...)

i wondered for a bit why exactly that was a feature of his design, as it stood out to me for some reason; its a contrasting color to red, his main color, of course, so i brushed it off as an accent.

upon further inspection, however, what does that mean with the knowledge we have of him wanting to be good? or about who he shares a connection with?

green/blue is generally known to symbolize goodness, as its the opposing color to red, a color that can represent evil or danger depending on its context.

as you can see here, this crude caricature of Ralph is lacking that extra pop of color; the nicelanders dont see the good inside of him, only seeing the external deep red hues :-(

it doesnt end there, though. which character in this film is represented by a certain teal color?

someone Ralph carries close to his heart, someone who helped define his personhood and who he is internally. that spunky racer girl who relied on him just as he relied on her. not just a glitch, but Vanellope.

Vanellope represents someone who is able to accept herself and grow stronger because of it, and in exploring her own identity, Ralph took a journey of his own alongside her. she's a figure of love, passion, and resistance. taking this into account, her main color symbolizes the same.

we can also see bits of red in Vanellope's design!

interestingly, the main spots we see it in are her licorice hair tie, the stitches and strings of her hoodie, and the bottom of her shoes.

now i could be overanalyzing this a bit, but each of these features have something in common: they're all used for support. the tie supports her hair, the threads keep her hoodie together, and her shoes let her run around and be a kid safely. yeah, she made all of those by herself on her own terms, but Ralph supports her too, right? shes the heart and hes the practicality.

not to mention the MEDALS OHHH the medals. beware ⚠️🚨 im going to overanalyze this like crazy ok let me be neurodivergent about this

all three of these medals have differences that could mean a variety of different things. I'll break each one down individually:

Vanellope's gift

handmade with love, the medal itself is teal (if we ignore the brown underside). as stated before, teal implies love and resistance. this is also quite obvious due to the gift being heart-shaped.

relating to that last point, notice how he wears it close to his chest? it's practically a second heart to him! what else is close to his chest? TEAL UNDERSHIRT. wow!!! so that love was there with him the whole time!

the ribbon itself is pink, not blue or red like traditional medals. this is less significant, i will admit, but i find it nice how its so simple yet defies what a "real" medal is meant to look like, ESPECIALLY in relation to Ralph's expectations as to what a medal should be.

Hero's medal

It's a reflective gold, something that hypnotized Ralph immediately upon being greeted with it (kind of like a certain racer heeheheehoo)... this is all pretty obvious; gold is for winners, and supposedly, only heros can be winners.

something a little less obvious, though, is the blue of his ribbon. so, why is it blue, specifically? now, this isn't teal, this is more of a royal blue. something similar to Felix's palette... a hero. Ralph treats goodness as something attainable, love as transactional. it's not real, it's not genuine. he wears this symbol of heroism without truly EARNING it.

The cake

notice how the ribbon around his neck is red in this imaginary scene? the medal designed for Felix and his wins? his contrasting color? on Ralph, it's almost indistinguishable from his shirt because he isn't supposed to wear it. it wasn't created with him in mind.

ok ok just one more thing. ☝️ Turbo and Ralph parallel with their color schemes.

red as a color carries a dual meaning. on one hand, it can mean passion, love, adrenaline and strength. on the other hand, it could represent evil, malicious intentions, a warning, something dangerous. both Ralph and Turbo share red in their palettes; something to note, Turbo lacks any cool colors.

Ralph is seen as evil when he is truly anything but evil. the red makes him a bigger target considering his position, but this red relates to him internally on a more positive level. its his strength, what keeps his softer core safe. above his teal undershirt.

Turbo is seen as this intense fireball who's just passionate about racing, a little tough guy who just wants to have fun. we all know that this isn't the case. he is dangerous, he is a cautionary tale, a warning and simultaneously a threat.

considering how much as the two parallel each other, its no surprise that they share a color, one that can be interpreted in so many ways. one that ultimately means the reverse for their roles.

[cogentsummoner]

Hi! So I'm rereading the Smite soulmate au and I was curious- Will we ever find out what exactly their soulmate marks are? Based on chapter 2 its a mark or something on the wrist. Is it a picture or certain word?

Also idk if you had plans to write out the actual scene of Smite and reader meeting for the first time but him kidnapping them and bombarding them with questions always sounded so funny 😭 I personaly would love a fleshed out scene of that if it's something you've thought about writing!

This fic is everything and I'm obsessed 💖

so i was largely gonna leave the soulmark designs up to reader interpretations, mostly because i don't really have any specific symbolism in mind for them. like, its not a sunflower or something like that. its just a kind of... curvy little design. if i had to pin down a design for it, it looks something like this!

as for how the reader and smite met.... well. let's just say it was a rocky beginning.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You took stock of the situation; you weren't injured- anymore, that is- but you were deeply fatigued and pinned down amongst the rubble. You could hear the sounds of battle, far too close for comfort. Your left arm was stuck, your wrist- your soulmark - exposed to the world.

Gazing at its familiar looping design, you felt your tired eyes fill with tears. Were you going to die? Before ever having gotten to meet your soulmate? You'd been waiting for them for such a long time… it wasn't fair. Fuck, it wasn't fair!

Without warning, something crashed like a comet nearby, it's impact making the earth tremble- and making your coffin almost complete. You could barely see anything anymore, just a sliver of light penetrating the oppressive darkness.

You heard the sound of heavy, stomping footsteps approaching, and a deep, distorted laugh, and found yourself frozen in fear. Oh god. You were going to die, weren't you? This was it.

Cowering in fear, you remained silent- and All Might, King of Chaos, Symbol of Fear- he almost passed you by without noticing you.

But something caught his eye, and he stopped. Right in front of you.

"What is this?" he breathed out. There was no cocky malice in his voice- only genuine confusion… no, wonder?

Suddenly, you could feel the ground shake a little as he dropped to his knees, clearing away the rubble and debris pinning your arm down. Once it was free, he… cradled your arm, your wrist, gently, as if it was something precious.

"Hey- hey! Are you alive under there? Can you hear me?" came the voice of All Might as he… began digging you out.

"I'm here," you replied, voice shaking with terror. You begged pathetically, "Please don't hurt me."

"No- no, no, no, I'd never hurt you," All Might reassured you in a way your exhausted mind couldn't comprehend.

He pushed aside huge chunks of cement and rubble like they were nothing, pulling you out and then holding you with his hands under your armpits, as if you were a small child. You stared into the unforgiving and uncaring mask of the most dangerous man in the world, and you could do little more than tremble like a frightened prey animal.

"Hey, it's okay!" All Might said, his voice changer making what was surely supposed to be a comforting statement into an unsettling one. "I'm not gonna hurt you, and I'm not gonna let anyone else hurt you. I promise."

"Why?" you whispered, your confusion only feeding into the fear.

"Oh- right. Got a little ahead of myself!" All Might replied with a belly laugh. He put you down gently, and then- to your horror- rolled up his left sleeve.

It was a perfect match. It was a perfect match of your soulmark.

You stared, uncomprehending, until it finally clicked.

Tears welled up in your eyes. They were not tears of joy.

When the sound of the Number One Hero's yell reached the two of you, the moment was cut short, and All Might made his move.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

All Might was on cloud fucking nine.

Literally, as in he was bounding high in the air, from building to building, as Endeavor blazed after him like a fiery comet- but also metaphorically, because he had, at long last, found his soulmate.

"Where are you from? Where'd you grow up? What do you do for a living?" he asked, voice loud enough to carry over the intense wind rushing past the two of you. There was just so much he wanted to know about you- it'd been a little over forty years since his soulmark appeared, and he wanted to know every detail of what had happened to you in that time. He was so goddamn excited, a warm bubbling feeling taking root where his stomach should be. "What's your favorite color? And food? And flower?"

You only answered one of his questions, your voice barely above a whisper. "Daisies," he could barely make out. "I like daisies."

"Daisies are nice!" he replied cheerily.

It took him a few more minutes to get Endeavor off his tail, but finally, he came to a stop on a rooftop in a quiet section of town. He gingerly took you off his shoulder and set you down on the ground, and you immediately leaned on him for support, which he was more than happy to give you.

"Are you alright?" he asked, which- in hindsight, it was a stupid question. He could admit that now. But in the moment, he was just...worried about you.

Your grip on his arms tightened, and you laughed. It was a harsh, hysterical sound.

"No!" you shouted, tears once again filling your eyes. "No, I'm not alright! I-I was buried alive because of your stupid fight, then I'm 'rescued' only to find out the Number One Villain is my soulmate, and now-! Now you've kidnapped me, and I'm so nauseous from all that jumping, I could puke! So, no, I'm not alright! In fact, this is perhaps the worst day of my fucking life!"

For a long moment, All Might simply stood there, still as a statue, your words making his heart freeze over, then shatter. You were trembling, and you refused to look at him- finally, he realized the obvious. You were terrified of him.

Before he could say anything, you let go of him, taking a few stumbling steps back from him, your back hitting the wall of the rooftop door. Your hands covered your tired, dusty face, and you sobbed as you slid down against the wall, pulling your knees close to your body.

You looked so fucking heartbroken. So genuinely fucking upset. Upset that he was your soulmate.

Minutes passed in silence as you wept, and All Might fought the sudden, pathetic urge to do the same. You didn't want him. You were afraid of him, you hated him!

He'd been so excited to finally meet you. After so many long years of isolation, necessitated by his crusade against All for One, he had hoped that when he did finally find his soulmate…

He wanted you to love him. You were supposed to love him.

This wasn't fair.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

This wasn't fair.

Your soulmate was supposed to be someone charming and sweet and kind- not a villain. Not the Villain. Not a murderer, a monster. What had you done to deserve this?

Slowly, you stopped crying, having no tears left in you. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and now you had a headache on top of everything else. You simply curled up, resting your forehead on your knees as you hugged them, and closed your eyes.

You tried not to jump when you heard heavy footsteps approaching you, but despite your efforts, you flinched. You could hear All Might sigh, then came the rustling of buckles and leather. When he spoke again, his voice was noticeably different.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't… mean to kidnap you. I… I just couldn't leave you behind, and Endeavor…" he said. His voice was deep and low, almost soothing.

You opened your eyes and tried not to gasp at the startlingly handsome face of an unmasked All Might. Chiseled features, hypnotic blue eyes, and golden, slicked back hair… Nothing could've prepared you for the sight of the Number One Villain's true face.

You furrowed your eyebrows. "So I can go home whenever I want?" you asked. Handsome though he may be… he was still All Might. This changed nothing.

He nodded, mouth set in a firm line. "Of course. I can drop you off-"

"If you're going to jump like you did to get here, then absolutely not," you interrupted sourly. Then, quietly, you added, "I'm afraid of heights."

He winced, then rubbed the back of his neck. Seemingly embarrassed, he mumbled, "…sorry."

He reached out a hand, to place on your shoulder, but you immediately tensed and said, in a voice as cold as ice, "Don't. Don't touch me."

You could see him swallow thickly, and he nodded. "Alright. Alright," he replied with a sigh, just the barest hint of… disappointment? sadness? in his expression. He took a few steps away from you, then asked, "Is it okay if I sit down here?"

You had to bite down a hysterical laugh. The most dangerous man in the world, asking for permission from you? What a joke.

You nodded warily. "Fine."

All Might sat down across from you, brows furrowed as he seemed to study you. You merely closed your eyes and rested your forehead on your knees again.

Finally, he spoke. "I… I know I'm not… what you wanted-"

You let out a derisive snort.

"-but we are soulmates, and… and I'd like the chance to get to know you," he said, sounding incredibly sincere, if not somber.

You contemplated his words for a minute, then replied, "There is quite literally nothing I could do to stop you from doing… anything, really. If you wanted to stalk me every moment of every day, there is no force on this planet I could enlist to get you to go away. If you wanted to actually kidnap me on purpose, then I doubt anyone could save me. Don't pretend like I have a choice in all of this."

You opened your eyes, and looked up to see unmistakable hurt in All Might's expression. He was quick to hide it, but his stricken face sat heavy in your mind.

"You do have a choice," he insisted. "I don't- I don't want to force you to do anything! I won't! I want you to…"

"To want you? To love you? Of my own free will?" you supplied, letting out a heavy sigh and straightening out your legs. You folded your hands in your lap.

A fierce blush bloomed on All Might's face, even as he looked away. "…yeah."

"I don't know if I can do that," you answered honestly.

His eyes squeezed shut, and his hands clenched into fists. "Can you… can you give me a chance at least? Please?"

Without his eyes on you, you stared at him unabashedly, then let out another sigh. "If I do, and the answer is still no, I do not or cannot love you at the end of it, will you accept that? Will you leave me alone? Or should I fear for my life if I do reject you?"

His mouth trembled. "I would never hurt you. No matter what you do to me, or how you feel, I-I… I could never hurt you. Please, please- if nothing else, please believe me on that."

You were quiet for a long moment, letting the two of you stew in the mess of emotions you were both feeling, before finally replying, "Okay. Alright. I'll give you a chance."

And with that decision, you sealed your fate.

[antisocialbunnysims]

Hi! Firstly I want to say how much I love your videos. Asylum is my comfort TV at the moment. And I'm so excited for Season 3. I would just like to ask where you found those large, filled ashtrays you used in, for example, your Casino build? I've scoured your Pinterest boards, but I couldn't find it. Maybe I just wasn't looking hard enough. I found some smoking clutter here: https://ano2uk.livejournal.com/. But it's not exactly what I need. I also wanted to ask if you have any tips for creating atmospheric lighting? I think I'm finally going to install Cinema Secrets, I'm just so fed up with the bright, white, clinical lighting of the vanilla game. Thank you, good luck with your future endeavours!

hi, aw thank you so much that makes me so happy to hear!! I am really excited too, I've been so bummed that I've been so busy lately because I'm like i literally only want to just work on season 3 and i keep having to be an adult with a job and shit!! lmao

and as for the ashtray i found it! i really thought i had it pinned, and i did but on my ..military/crime/scifi board? 🤔 i guess i was like...private eyes investigate crime..and smoke? lol so i do not blame you for not finding it and i'm sorry it was hard to locate!! it is a bioshock ashtray converted by mistyfluff here!

https://fictionalshelter.wordpress.com/2022/05/05/pd-noir-office-part-1/

and as for atmospheric lighting, I loveddd the cinema secrets mod when I had it installed! The lit by firelight setting you could turn on for specific lots is amazing. I ended up uninstalling it and going back to using the maxis match lighting mod only because, you know that glitch where sometimes all the furniture in a build doesn't get lit up by the lighting anymore and you have to pick up each one and place it down? That started happening to me a lot more when I had cinemasecrets idk if it was related or if I just psyched myself out into thinking that lol -__- but it's beautiful! For me, I literally hate white light so much that I don't use it in any sim builds anymore basically lololol unless it's supposed to be a fluorescent and unpleasant area. At this point I really only use lights with a warm tone and I love how it feels cozy! pineappleforest has a post here showing the different maxis light settings and how to change custom lamps to a different type of light. Pineappleforest labels which lamps in their sets are warm/cool so I use a lot of warm PF lamps, like pretty much every lamp I use lol. And I also love the Still Here lamp by nixed sims, it's really warm lighting that is very retro. I also love to use the neon rods from PF's neon set because there is an invisible one! You can put an invisible colored neon and if there is other lighting nearby in the room, the effect is pretty subtle so it's fun to try different combos. I also love the big crazy neon maxis lightbulb lamps that are green/blue/and..orange? whichever, they are SO intense but that makes them really useful for photos or areas you want to feel spooky/scifi/moody etc. anyway I rambled a lot lol but I hope some of this was helpful at all!! <3

[dreamspring]

#rbing again w ur commentary bc yes to all this like yes yes yes#and I wanted to add. antigone in her grief gets so wrapped up as you said#that she genuinely starts seeing anyone who opposes her as an ‘enemy’ in a way?#obviously this means creon for the most part but ismene too#and I think that a large part of ismene’s reluctance to act is not because she doesn’t necessarily agree with antigone etc#but because she’s aware of her and her sisters positions particularly as women#like not to bring gender into it (except im right)#but like. is ismene *just* a coward? or is there more to that.#and yes abolsutely on top of that and most importantly: ismene is the only one left at the end#she’s lost her whole family! and now shes in that position I wouldn’t be surprised if she wondered whether it was even worth anything#anyway also there’s the way that ismene represents duty to your state in a much more measured and subtle way than creon#like. the whole play is divine/gods vs man/state. creon ordains an order and antigone dies defying it because deference to the gods is#what she chooses instead. n remember that the whole point is that *neither* of them are completely wrong or completely correct!#like. Greek maxim n all that: nothing to excess.#they are both excessive in their respective devotions - gods or state#so ismene. idk it’s been a while since I read the play but she has always felt like the subtle middle ground#the compromise the negotiator. if antigone had been more receptive to being told to just hold on a moment#would the two sisters have been able to work out a deal of some sort with creon? who knows!#that isn’t really the point because the tragedy wouldn’t exist if it didn’t end this way#but. my point being. when taken in isolation#ismene is Antigone’s ‘mirror’ fulfilling the role of creon#but when taking creon and the context of the play into account#she’s more of the middle ground between them?#idk. sorry for the essay. im trying to avoid going to bed.

prev..... ur mind is humongous....... thank you for all these thoughts ur so so right. like EXACTLY i think ismene and antigone (but especially ismene) are both very aware of what will happen to them if they are caught breaking the law and its just that antigone is. suicidally and recklessly leaning into that whereas ismene simply does not want to die. like antigone being brave for doing what she does (which she is!) doesn't make ismene a coward it makes her nonsuidical. (i think!)

and ur point about gender... yeah exactly. and also (on an unrelated note! sorry for the tangent) it makes me think about the way that antigone sort of transcends gender boundaries in the way she turns her expression of grief (the burial of her brother) into an act of protest... when the performance of ritualised mourning + of grief itself was women's work, antigone's performance of the practical ritual of burial (which is not something women were supposed to be involved in) turns her personal act of grieving into a gender subversive protest against creon's attempt at controlling her/denying her ability to grieve. (which is also what her suicide at the end represents to me... idk. that was just a thought!)

AND YES.... that's something i hadn't even considered but ur SO RIGHT. the idea that ismene represents moderation or the middle ground between extremeties... nothing in excess!!! there's something about the way that both ismene and haemon try to talk antigone and creon respectively out of their brash decisions as the voices of reason but are both rebuked and shunned (ie. antigone dismissing ismene as not really loving her and being 'creon's champion', the same way creon accuses haemon of disloyalty and being a lovesick fool for antigone), ultimately leading to tragedy. tldr. these are all such good points thank you sooo much for sharing ur thoughts with me!! <3 <3 <3

ismene/antigone; on being left behind

all highlighted excerpts from sophocles’ antigone, trans. hugh-lloyd jones // other excerpts in order: louise glück - tango / jodi picoult - my sisters keeper / unknown / mine / halsey - graveyard / unknown / mine / seamus heaney - the burial at thebes / mine

[the-gayest-of-faggots]

I need to get better posting schedule. These are from yesterday and no today art :(.

But even if not finished in the slightest I love how the first one came out. Like take one super hard thing to do (complex perspectives) and then second one (highly detailed war machinery) and now try to mash them. By god, is it hard

Oh and cringetober unnecessarily complex fit

[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

[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?

[synthshenanigans]

a rlly simple soup doodle i turned digitally then added too much red & lighting to

1. the clothing is meant to be uneven. random idea i had that somehow connected to Heart & Mind [or Soul lacking them since yk....he split] 2. very few might semi recognize the design a bit from an old soul i made over a year ago! that will be below :}

[an alt version is below too as usual]

i like the old one better honestly but ive been liking my old style a lot more recently augh

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

There are a couple of lines in Psychonauts 2 that I think about quite a bit. I’m pretty sure these have already been done but if NOT, then. Uh. Spoilers for Psychonauts 2 I guess?

First off- one of Sam’s lines. There’s actually a lot about Sam that I think could have been put to better use—specifically a conversation about how psychic powers aren’t always controllable, giving parallels between Compton, Dogan, and Maligula and MAYBE Raz. But the line I SPECIFICALLY think about is a joke one.

“And if you use enough syrup, you can’t taste the difference between chicken and snake. Eggs is eggs!”

In Psychonauts, eggs are used as a metaphor for brains. Like, this isn’t some vague thing, it’s extremely front and center. Eggs and brains are directly linked. And, it should be noted, that Sam actually puts an entire nest—INCLUDING BIRD EGGS—in the, uh…. ‘Pancake mix’.

So, snakes and chickens and syrup, right? Chickens, generally used to describe someone who is cowardly or otherwise not the type to actually do anything, syrup being sweet enough to distract from other tastes, and snakes being, well, people who are not trustworthy.

And then there’s Nick Johnsmith, aka Gristol Malik, who is a well liked non psychic that Truman calls a lick spittle—someone who fawns over others easily. In other words, a snake (egg, brain) that acts sweet (and syrupy) enough to seem like a chicken (egg, brain).

Do you see. Do you SEE THE VISION HERE.

Anyways onto phrase 2. Said by Gristol Malik.

“He took a poor, sad, country girl and turned her into a mighty warrior. And I’m going to do it again.”

Now, usual context will say he means he’ll bring Maligula out of Lucy/Nona. I don’t think that’s incorrect, per se.

But one of the things that really, REALLY snapped Lucy/Maligula was the death of Marona, her sister.

And who do we have camping nearby? Why, it’s an entire family. In fact, it’s Raz’s entire family. And at LEAST half of them are psychics.

Gristol already views Raz as a puppet. He only kind of likes him because he’s half Grulovian. And, you know, during the Rhombus of Ruin, Loboto was no longer under Oleander’s employee, so… who wanted Raz’s brain removed? Someone who, oh I don’t know, might have heard about Raz being a powerful psychic that MIGHT have noticed Raz’s rather unique name… or, more specifically, the last name of a circus that performed for the Gzar and his family, famous for water acts. One that, by chance, someone could have known that a Galochio, a family of psychics, recently married into?

And you know, Maligula is older, it’s good to have back-ups, right? I mean, this is the same guy that ACTUALLY pulled one over on an entire spy group of mind readers.

But, hey, maybe it wasn’t a plan to turn Raz into Maligula by killing one or some or all of his family! Raz is kind of pissed right now, and might not snap the way Gristol would want him to. I’m pretty sure murdering, say, Mirtala, his baby sister, might not work in Gristol’s favor when Raz is already against him.

That said… he’s not the only psychic in the Aquato family. And in fact some of those family members aren’t the most on board with the whole… Psychics and Psychonauts business.

Specifically, we have a barely used plot thread including Frazie Aquato and her acceptance of her psychic powers!

I’m sure that, oh say, her little brother dying in the middle of him helping the Psychonauts pick up their messes, when he should have been able to be saved by one of his heroes since he was literally at their headquarters and surrounded by psychic adults, will only have good things happen to the Psychonauts. I’m SO sure that Frazie won’t get extremely pissed at these people her brother looked up to so much. She’ll definitely be understanding and absolutely won’t use what seems to be a family trait of extremely powerful psychic power along with the hydrokinesis in her bloodline. Specifically because she, an acrobat since birth and taught to ignore a lot of the usual fears most people have about safety and the instinct to flee, definitely has a great relationship with her fight or flight mode.

:))))

Anyways I have a lot of thoughts about Psychonauts 2 (I’m not saying I’d do a fix it of some things that bother me, but I do tend to do canon rewrites to smooth out wrinkles as a fun writing exercise/my version of hyperfixation on media and with the time gap between the games there is PLENTY of those in the plot, so uhhhhhhhh) but no one to bother them to, so uhhhhh yeah thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

[colonelmajorkepler]

is this a safe space for me to admit i did Not like the mother lauren arc. or at the very least the ending with the father kevin episode

[queenlucythevaliant]

My first time getting a visit from the JWs. Idk why, but it's always so funny interacting with the various Christian cults?

[averinthine]

i've been having psychotic episodes on and off for weeks, and i'm only just now realising that's what's been going on

[jrueships]

guess whos not going in at all this week, actually

[nobodieshero-main]

NOBODY MOVE I'M HAVING POSITIVE THOUGHTS ABOUT MORDRED AND ATLAS.

[dazzlerazz]

I should play CF again with a fresh clear head just to see if I actually like it without fandom bullshit clouding my mind

[son1c]

i need to make an updated ref for fibula that's not janky 2020 art because i draw him so inconsistently it's kind of funny but that's a problem for future me