#‘I don’t wanna be here anymore’

[failedpotato]

About Time’s trauma

(Yeah we’re doing this)

So, I like to think that the Hero of Time does not remember the time he spent in the spirit realm. He spent seven years in solitary confinement… the least the goddesses could do was remove that burden from his consciousness.

Except they didn’t, completely.

Because when he sleeps, he doesn’t dream - he returns to that place, that endless, white void. Perhaps it’s a blip in the system, an aspect that the goddesses forgot to take into account. Maybe it’s intentional. He wouldn’t know.

Every day, he wakes up with no recollection of any of it. But whoever’s with him (read: Malon), can see him thrashing and clearly not having a good time while he is asleep. She asks about it, of course – several times, to no avail. Because he genuinely can’t answer her questions.

But he talks in his sleep, and Malon is able to piece together the little bits of information she gets.

Anyway there’s that and then there’s tHe mOoN

[canarydarity]

You just can’t make this shit up

[puppppppppy]

Childhood

[alaskan-wallflower]

may be controversial but i still wish they kept randy in the musical and not given his role in pony’s story to cherry.

i understand why they did, and i’m glad she got a more prominent role because i love cherry with my whole life, but i also think that had they kept randy in the musical that it would’ve kept cherry a much more morally grey character like the rest of them. i think cherry benefitted from being morally grey, too. it added to her complexity, like sure, she could be a bit of a snob sometimes, like telling pony she wouldn’t say hi to him in school and stuff because of social class rankings or whatever, but she also had that viewing of things being rough all over, because they are. she acknowledges that, and she realizes that greasers and socs have their flaws, and she’s the one who introduces that idea to pony. she’s the one who opened his mind to that. her being morally grey like that was important to her character. her not visiting johnny in the hospital was important to her character. like she had every right not to want to visit him—he literally murdered her boyfriend, who she loved, whether it was self defense or not. (this low-key turned into a rant about complexity mb)

i also think ponyboy benefitted from that “guy to guy” kind of thing with randy because he was a soc, and pony really thought the guys specifically were bad. especially since randy was originally one of the people who tried to drown pony, i think that sort of relationship and realization of one of the guys who had hurt pony that yeah, it’s rough all over, was really important. especially being one of the people to help bob try to drown pony. one of bobs own friends being able to admit their wrongs, and apologize to ponyboy in a man to man way, was beneficial in my opinion.

again, i get why they did it, this is sorta just my opinion and where i’m coming from-you don’t gotta agree, just like-don’t come at me-

[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?

[cartoonguy08]

Did some rough sketches that I sorta like 👍

So many voice lines point that Soldier just LOVES getting ass lol. Idk if he’d actually say this but MY HEAD DOES 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

[ysabelmystic]

I’ll be real, yall were all about “cringe culture is dead” until hazbin hotel came out and now suddenly we’re cool sending anon hate and bullying people over this show…

[waywardstation]

Choo-choo! We've almost reached the likes goal on the reblog game!

Please be mindful of future likes for this game!

Now then get ready for departure soon! All Aboard!

For this post

Thank you everyone so, so, so, SOOOO MUCH!!! I set an incredibly difficult goal for this honestly, and yet you all helped it be reached!! I appreciate it so much, thank you!!

Unfortunately however, the next part is not finished yet. I was planning to have it finished and ready weeks ago, but I became severely sick and have been unable to finish it to have it ready for this wonderful moment :( I’m so sorry. And I am still pretty bad off, and I’m unsure how much longer it’ll be like this for me.

But!! It was still pretty far along when I had to stop. A lot of it is done. And I have tried to make it up to everyone by making the part extra long. And it is becoming more lighthearted and about comfort now, the next choice to make falls into that ^^

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU EVERYONE!! It means a lot to me to see that people are actually commenting on the comic and celebrating that it has reached its goal. It means a lot to see that people care!! I am so excited to get the next part out to you guys and to continue on this once again!! ^^ <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[flowercrowngods]

the prompt: rest | rating: G | cw: non-explicit trauma-related insomnia

The steady thrum of the engine is like gentle white noise that not only fills Eddie’s head and smoothes out the frayed edges of consciousness, but runs through his whole body as a comforting presence. It spreads from the hands holding the wheel in a loose, easy grip up his arms and to his shoulders, down his chest where it settles in his gut. That feeling of belonging, of comfort, of familiarity. It leaves him with a smile as he shifts the gear, accelerating a little on the open street.

No one else is out here tonight, and there’s no destination ahead, but his goal has long since been reached.

Part of him wants to roll down the window to feel the breeze in his hair, allow November in just for five minutes, just for the duration of this next song.

Hey, little girl, is your daddy home? Did he go and leave you all alone?

But he won’t, because this moment is not his.

He glances over to the side, catches the split second where the passing street lights make Steve glow golden, his breath even, his face relaxed. His eyes closed, his forehead void of pained frowns. He’s been asleep for an hour.

It mends something inside him, seeing Steve like this, but something splinters all the same.

“What do you need? What can I give you? Please, Steve, you need to sleep. You deserve to rest.”

He remembers asking, tears welling up in his eyes and desperation clawing at his insides, clawing to get out and tear at Steve, tear at him to find out what it is that Eddie can do.

“Can we just— Drive? For a while?”

“Where to?”

“Nowhere, just… Might help.”

And it did. It does.

It’s been a few months now, and sometimes it’s Wayne who takes Steve — or both of them — on a ride to lull him to sleep with a steady engine and a tape that Vecna never touched.

And every time, Steve wakes the second the car stops. But it’s fine, because he’ll smile, he’ll say, “Thank you”, he’ll say, “I love you,” and he’ll lie on Eddie’s chest for the rest of the night, listening to the steady thrum of his heart while Eddie hums a quiet melody until Steve is asleep again.

written for @steddiemicrofic, dedicated to @auroraplume because i can 🤍🌷

[transkepler]

I fr can’t stop drawing this guy

[cheriecoke]

one thing i find interesting is readers always ask for part 2,3,4 etc for fics they enjoy, but when writers actually decide to write multi part fics no one wants to read them

[cerisereids]

thinking about how spencer info dumps about my hometown in season eight

[grabby-smitten]

All the Caleb hate would die if they only took time to read his myth. He is literally doing the impossible to keep MC in his heart. I don’t wanna hear anyone badmouthing this treasur of a man. Legend. Amazing. Majestic.

[bitethedevil]

every day I open my laptop, cry a little bit, look at the word count, and cry a little bit more.

[dilutedconfusion]

I did a thing…again.

Just realized that ya’ll need to click for better quality for some reason this post looks especially bad 🤚

[theshadowrealmitself]

Thoughts rn: a Vulcan sitting down at their desk after their Human spouse visited them at work and seeing a new picture frame containing one of the photos from their wedding/bonding ceremony and they decide to just keep it there