#kinda don’t wanna go

[thelesbianthespianposts]

imagine: you get your memories back after years of amnesia to find out your whole species is dead and earth doesn’t exist anymore. that the only thing left of your culture is your weird ex and his busted honda civic that barely even works that he stole from the government when he was 13. And he’s been taking members of an alien species for trips in his honda civic and they’re all like “woah it’s so cool” and you get upset because it’s NOT COOL it’s a honda civic, the turn signals don’t even work “wow it can go up hills” yeah OF COURSE IT CAN GO UP HILLS EVERY CAR COULD DO THAT. but they’ve never seen a car before so everything it does is the coolest thing ever. And your ex’s only tool is a fucking screwdriver which is somehow also cool to this dumbass alien species even though it’s a fucking screwdriver so you just look like an idiot screaming about how none of this is even cool it’s actually really shitty but your whole planet is gone so you can’t even prove it but also you’ve had a constant drumming sounding in your head since you were 10 slowly driving you insane. I would become evil too.

[astral-catastrophe]

.

[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?

[puppyeared]

Was nobody gonna warn me that I would fall a little bit in love with every character in Stardew

[lovecoredeity]

an updated post on Cashmere’s various designs since i created her (not including Cashmere’s “beta” designs when she was a different character, but you do get my first ever “Cashmere as herself” art and her various outfits). i wonder if yall can guess what Cashmere’s class was when i first designed her (currently she is a barbarian)

♡ if you like my art please consider buying me a kofi ♡

[sea-jello]

M UH MORRO ENJOYERS DOYOU REMEMBER ME

more versions with the slightest difference plus no bg and shading

listen they have a difference. to me

[pepperpixel]

Yadda yadda yadda jinx is generally seen as a loose canon, does whatever she wants type of character, totally unpredictable. When in actuality, up until the last few episodes all of her choices and actions r motivated by wanting to please someone else. Hell. Even in the last couple episodes, the very Last thing we see her doing is ENTIRELY MOTIVATED by devotion and love and grief for silco, she’s taking out her frustration at herself and the world, and also honoring his wishes and dreams. By shooting a fucking bomb at piltover, she’s ensuring his life wasn’t in vain, she’s honoring him. In that moment

Her entire, self!!! is centered around love and loyalty. Is centered around other people, She’s motivated by an insatiable urge to prove herself, to be useful to those she loves, to show that she can help them and be there for them and be WORTHY of there love. That they haven’t made a mistake in loving her. To prove that she can be as pivotal to them as they r for her. She goes to the ends of the fucking earth to do this. And it ends. Terribly.

She puts the people she loves on pedestals and supplicates at there feet, she has no motivations most of the show outside of making the people she loves happy… she yearns for connection and love and safety. For a home that will never leave her behind, or crumble under her feet, (an indestructible home, That she can’t destroy just by being her…)

Which is why.. it’s so. Interesting and intriguing. How now, she has no one on that pedestal to worship, no one to drag sacrifices and offerings to the feet of, no one to spiral around and build herself off of. She is a person so *affected* by her relationships w others, but there is no relationship now, no one is stepping up to the plate to love her. She’s too much. For anyone. The one person who seemed to have unlimited patience for her is dead, because of her. and maybe vi could still love her.. but. She’s already soured that relationship. Already broken that one too. Broken all her favorite toys that made her so happy. That were there for her. And scared all the rest away. (There is a limit to what vi can support and forgive to reconnect w her sister. And I believe terrorism is crossing that limit ghgh)

And maybe, jinx is cutting that part of herself out on purpose. To be stronger, she’s realized she just. Isn’t made for love. That she ruins it all in the end. That it just makes everything worse. Messier. More complicated. She’s better off on her own, but for what PURPOSE! Who will she be now! What choices will she make!?! Almost all of her actions in the show were for others, what is driving her now, now that she has this gaping void at the center of her being. Where love used to be… what kind of person will she become, Without a guide to follow… a sun to orbit around. it’s sad honestly ghghg-!!! like yeah it’s not healthy that she is this way but there’s no THERAPY IN ARCANE. THIS IS THE WAY SHE IS! And now. She’s alone… it’s rough. But also intriguing…!! And I honestly have no clue how she’s gonna act in season 2,,, or what sorta shit she’s gonna get up to. but I’m excited.

[cable-salamder]

Alright gang, I’m probs gonna refrain from going onto my fyp/ tl for now. I’ll still post stuff (probably mostly art), but if I don’t like or rb anything from you or other people in the fandom (if I do rb smth it’s probably scheduled) for a while it’s because of that

[ashipiko]

ASHACE KIDS ANYONE?

[akkivee]

Navy Curry Straight Out From 'Hama: Hypmic Curry Drama Track TL

i was able to get the hypmic curry and figured it’d be cool to share what the tracks were about!! the tracks themselves aren’t publicly available tho, so do buy the curry if it becomes available again!! enjoy!!!

——————

Rio: *humming a tune*

Rio: …Go Shawty🎵 Go Shawty🎵

Samatoki: …Damn it.

Juto: We really are in a bind…

Rio: Why are you both just standing over there for?

Juto: O-Oh, it’s just, I can’t help but be in awe over the amount of disgus— fine ingredients you have…

Rio: My catch was exceptional today. The gods of the hunt must have felt generous.

Samatoki: Rio, just to be clear, you said you’re making curry right?

Rio: Affirmative; I’ve also prepared spices. Everything has been properly gathered.

Samatoki: T-That’s great then…

Samatoki: No matter which way he cooks it, nobody’s gonna want to eat this…!

Juto: I can already see us getting reported to the Consumer’s Bureau. The lawsuits are just waiting to happen…

Rio: What are you two whispering about?

Samatoki: Nothing.

Juto: It’s nothing!

Cow: *moos*

Juto: A cow?!

Rio: I was fortunate enough to have caught a bull alive in one of my traps.

Samatoki: So, we could have had a beef curry, huh…

Juto: Clearly! So how do we get him to use that instead??

Samatoki: I got this. Hey, Rio, you’re not gonna use the cow in the curry? I think it’d be fine with just that.

Rio: No, I intend to use just these ingredients. More ingredients do not necessitate a better curry.

Juto: Of course that’s the response!

Rio: Now then, let’s begin cooking. First, is the onion. Chop it into small pieces and fry it in butter until golden brown.

Juto: U-Understood.

Rio: Samatoki, I’ll leave you to grate the apples.

Samatoki: T-That’s a hell of a lot of apples.

Rio: I intend for them to be a standout flavour in the curry. After, combine them with the fried onions.

Samatoki: S-Sure.

Rio: As for me, I will be preparing the fond de veau.

Juto: At this rate, the curry will be completed as intended…!

Samatoki: Maybe I can knock him out…? No, Rio doesn’t have any openings.

Rio:…Hm?

Samatoki: What’s wrong?

Rio: I’ve used up too much water preparing the ingredients and don’t have enough to use in the curry. May you keep an eye on everything as I go and retrieve more water from the spring?

Juto: Of course! You won’t have to worry about us here!

Samatoki: Make sure you watch your step heading out there.

Rio: Thank you. I’ll be back soon.

Juto: With the way Rio moves, it’ll probably be 10 minutes before he returns… Within that time, we must get rid of those ingredients somehow!

Samatoki: Juto! Don’t just stand there looking stupid and come help me out here!

Juto: ?! You’re making a hot pot with those ingredients? What are you intending to do with that??

Samatoki: Just shut up and cook!

Juto: Then I suppose you have a plan in mind?

Samatoki: Yeah.

————————————

Samatoki: It’s about done. Oi, Juto. Here.

Juto: A fork? Why would I—? Surely you can’t mean—!

Samatoki: Better clench that gut. This is the only way!

Juto: Guh! Never would I have expected to have to protect Yokohama in this way…!

Samatoki & Juto: Here we go!

Samatoki & Juto: *choking down the food*

Rio: Samatoki, Juto, what’s going on—? We don’t have any ingredients left?

Samatoki: S-Sorry about that Rio. I just got too hungry to wait.

Juto: W-With all this food around, I couldn’t bring myself to stop eating.

Rio: I see… Apologies, I didn’t realise how hungry the both of you had gotten. …Well, I suppose I will just have to use this cow in the curry.

Juto: Yes, it truly is a shame, but it seems we have no other choice but to do so!

Samatoki: Haha! With our “Navy Curry Straight Out From ‘Hama,” we’re winning this whole thing!

[i-am-a-freg]

Me: *prays for patience*

God: *gives me chances to practice my patience*

Me: no wait not like that

[danelloevee-sky]

I made a transparent png of Reassuring Ranger for that textpost but I ended up not using it so here’s the transparent

[m1d-45]

rain or shine

summary: you aren’t feeling the best, but luckily for you inazuma’s resident “fixer” is here to do away with your ailments

word count: 1.1k

-> warnings: mentions of nausea, reader doesn’t eat much due to said nausea, dw thoma has you covered though

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

you were having a bad day. plain and simple.

it started yesterday, when you had to stay up late to complete some last minute forms. the estate needed supplies a bit sooner than typical, but you didn’t mind the extra time it took. rain kept you company, a light sprinkle that quickly turned heavy, though thankfully with no lightning. it seemed the shogun was in a better mood today.

you woke up tired, with rolling nausea and a fierce headache. had you caught something? you hoped not, as you were planning on being productive today. a painkiller and a swig of water mostly did away with the headache, but the nausea refused to leave. you couldn’t even properly enjoy your breakfast, only getting through half of it before giving up. maybe you’d have it for lunch? that would save you some time and trouble later…

that was your first mistake. if anything, it only caused more trouble as the day stretched on. you went to the garden with a folder in hand, passing it off to a group of staff waiting by the gates. it was their list of things to pick up, and a lengthy one at that. the party was larger than typical to account for this, but when you were asked to join them, you couldn’t help but agree. they could use the help, right?

your second mistake. the trip was to bring back various supplies—silks, ingredients, toiletries and the like—from inazuma city back to the estate. it was a routine operation, one that you would normally be able to complete easily, except for the fact that it had rained the night before. mud stuck to your shoes, the unusually humid air clinging to your skin. your half-breakfast didn’t help, and your headache was beginning to return again. halfway through, when your crew took a break, you couldn’t stomach anything more than a few sips of water. by the time the final crate was carried back to the estate, you were far past lightheaded, breath coming in thin pants. a few of your fellow workers stopped to check on you—“hey, you should sit down” “what’s wrong?” “here, have some of my water”—but you waved all of them off. you were supposed to help, not worry them. you did have to promise to take a break before they’d let you leave, and though you were grateful for their concern, you did feel a little bitter.

all of this was your own fault, after all. why should you make them worried over something easily preventable?

you walked to your room with a hand on the wall for balance, blessedly not running into anyone. you weren’t sure how you’d explain yourself in you ran into lady ayaka- or worse, thoma. it wasn’t that you’d get in trouble, certainly not, but you were too ill for whatever food or drink they’d offer, and you didn’t feel like distracting either of them from their jobs. thoma especially so, since you knew he’d have a hard time focusing on his work if he saw you like this. it would normally be endearing, but today was everything but normal.

you pushed open the door to your room, pushing it closed behind you without stopping to lock it. the estate had the highest security in inazuma second only to the tenshukaku itself, and you honestly couldn’t be bothered. it’s not like staff were in the habit of snooping through each others rooms, and the extra effort was hardly worth it right now.

your sheets were blessedly cool as you fell onto your bed, barely putting in effort to arrange yourself on it. you’re… just taking a break. that’s all. just resting, and then you’ll get up and do all those things you were supposed to.

after all, it would be irresponsible of you not to, right?

you wake up to something cold dripping down your face, though your room was still dark. at least no one was here, then… but what was on your forehead?

you struggled to open your eyes, barely making out anything. you could tell someone had closed your door since no light was coming through, but who?

a gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you from getting up, the cold whatever—cloth, maybe?—on your forehead shifting as you did. “stay, you’re alright.”

you let your eyes close. you should have seen this coming, in truth.

“…thoma?”

“i’m right here.” his hand moved up and you could feel his gloves on your cheek as he wiped something away. “and don’t worry, all of my duties were finished while you’ve been asleep. i’m all yours.”

well, at least you weren’t disturbing him. small wins. “what are you doing here?”

“you have a fever,” he said simply. “you likely just caught a small bug and overworked yourself. don’t worry, it should be gone within a day or so.”

you’d been hoping you weren’t sick, that maybe it was the heat of the humidity making you feel ill. then again, you’d also hoped not to fall asleep, so…

thoma took the cloth from your head, and you hear small splashes and the trickle of water. “furata tells me you went out this morning with the other staff.” he places it back on your forehead, wiping away any droplets that spill before they reach your ears or eyes. it’s much cooler now, and you worry about how long he’s been sitting here. “she also says you looked quite tired before you left.”

“thoma-“

“i’m not upset.” as if to prove it, he takes one of your hands in his, squeezing once. “but i am worried. can you tell me why you went with them if you weren’t feeling well?”

“i just wanted to help.”

“i understand that, but you need to put yourself first, love. you can’t help others if you don’t first help yourself.” he removed the towel and put the back of his hand to your cheek, humming, then both were gone. “do you think you could eat something?”

you opened your eyes properly, taking stock of your body and room. he’d propped his vision on your nightstand as his source of light, and though it was small it still stung, your eyes slightly watering. but the rest had been good for you, and your head hurt a little less than it did before. “maybe.”

he smiled, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “i can work with maybe. how does soup sound?”

“lovely.”

“perfect.” he lets go of your hand and moves it behind your back, the other hooking under your legs.

“thoma, you-“

“don’t have to, i know.” effortlessly, you’re lifted into the air, greeted with a kiss to your cheek. “but i like taking care of you. now, what kind of tea would you like with your meal?”

[spiderin-space]

We engage in a bit of silliness ‘round these parts

(Suggestive doodles down bellow)

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

notes of this poll made me curious:

[musicalmoritz]

Hi, we’re going to see this scene animated in January

I’m going to scream