#gallabin

[zerachielamora]

Look hear me out

(X) @draw-the-squad-like-this

[gallabin]

Same vibes

[valeriana7-whitechalk]

[artesiacasval]

Robin as an otome mc

[thelayersoffear]

Reincarnation: Layers of Fear/HSR

"I've run around my house God knows how many times, but it's done nothing to bring them back!" The man bellowed, standing in the decrepit underbelly of his house. "There has to be a way!"

From the darkness, an ominous yet familiar voice spoke. "Oh, there is a way. But it bears a heavy price. Can you bear to give up everything you worked for, just to reunite with them?"

That caused him to pause, mulling over the options. As desperately as he wanted to be a great artist in this life, that dream had died. At this point, he had lost everything that ever mattered to him. Could he sacrifice his talent and fame for a chance to have his family returned?

He grit his teeth, but had his answer. "…I can."

Behind him, the man could feel a rush of cold air, even though he was in the basement of his house. Of course, it didn't come from outside, but from the being that was standing behind him. He felt the train of her coat on the floor brushing past his feet, but he didn't dare to look.

Her voice grew closer. "It will cost everything, but it will grant new life."

"…new life?" The painter asked hesitantly.

"Yes. A fresh start; isn't that what you want?"

He clenched his fists, still hanging at his sides. "But she…she'll be safe?" He asked, worried given the fate of his beloved wife.

"Oh, she will be. She'll thrive in a musical career beyond the stars." Suddenly, the man could feel those icy, gaunt fingers clutch around his shoulders. "Just what she always wanted."

While terrified, he kept looking straight ahead. "All right then, what's the catch?" He declared, knowing a deal with the Rat Queen always came with strings.

A deep chuckle emanated behind him. "You will become a nondescript man whose only mission is to save her homeland. You'll succeed, but it will cost you your life. Hardly anyone will remember you, and your beloved will carry on without you by her side."

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Is that the deal, then? A life for a life?"

"That is the exchange. Do you choose to take it?" Her hands on his shoulders tightened.

There was a long pause as he considered the options. Despite this second chance, one of them could not survive. Of course there couldn't be a true happy ending. But this was the one chance for her dreams to come true, even if it meant doing so without him.

Shaking a little, he nodded. "…yes I do."

"Then it is done." The room began to swirl about them, and before the Painter could register what happened, everything went black.

~~~***~~~

"To the imperfect…tomorrow." Gallagher spoke into the wind. He had said goodbye to the Astral Express and the Halovian siblings as they made their return to the sweet dream in order to stop the Stellaron. It was out of his hands now, and unfortunately, he wouldn't live to see the conclusion.

He wasn't sure where he was going to end up after death, but one thing was for certain. Quietly, he spoke out last phrase out loud, directly to the woman he had harbored feelings for over many years, yet had not uttered a sentence or acted in any way to show it.

"No matter where I am in the future, I will definitely still hear your singing."

[hopetune]

A small box finds its way to Robin, wherever she might be on this day. Unmistakably Penaconian in its wrappings, and without a sender on its tag, its sole purpose is to protect the delicate creation inside: a crystalline coupe glass filled to just below the lip with an impossibly bubbly, cerulean cocktail. Within minutes outside of its specialized delivery box, it would disappear entirely, glass and all. Such is the way with memoria. So the letter that accompanies it is short, to ensure that its recipient not spend overlong reading it:

"Flying" comes in many forms. With wings, with ambition, with dreams, with hope. This drink is a new creation, and there's no better candidate to test it than you. Happy birthday

No matter how hard Robin might look, the letter lacks a written signature of any kind.

But perhaps it doesn't need one.

She almost loses it to the sea of packages that flood her apartment's floor. Robin cannot be blamed, really—the box is a simple thing, little ornamentation except for the distinctly Penaconian wrapping style. It doesn't even have a name attached to it. But sometimes the best is saved for last, and the songstress is determined to respond to every gift given to her, besides. It is only the right thing to do, acknowledging those who have chosen to acknowledge her in turn.

She takes the top off the box, and blinks at what is inside.

Gloved hands gingerly remove the glass from the cardboard. She is surprised to see no spillage, but supposes packaging technology has gone above and beyond what one can Dream of. Beneath the base of the glass, a letter. She sets down the cocktail and unfurls the folded paper.

She recognizes the words written on the letter, and hears them in a familiar, low voice when she reads through each line. There is no signature, but it doesn't need one: somehow, she already knows the name. A smile cracks through her features, and she excitedly takes a sip from the drink on her table.

There is a tart sweetness to it, pinching at her tongue and cheeks, paired well with the bubbles that pop in her mouth like small bursts of confetti. But also a refreshing quality to be found—she can taste a bit of coconut, though wonders if that's all in her head. For memories begin to flash through her mind as she continues to drink. The flavor seemingly evolves with each second it lingers in her mouth, shifting to suit whatever remembrance resurfaces from her mind. As she drinks, she sees the dimness of a city hidden from Orderly eyes, tastes the saltiness of a beach whose sun never waned, and feels the weight of a Moment shared by the edge of a dream. Robin sighs wistfully, feeling a warmth that goes beyond what is normally evoked by brews or spirits.

When she empties the glass, there is a serene look about her face: a joy that can only be brought out by a Friendship distilled. Her memories are not always happy, but there would always be a certain delight in reliving them with a friend.

And isn't that what she has with her right now, within this drink? A friend?

Soon, the glass will disappear, and Robin will forget what exactly made her feel so peaceful to begin with. But where memories will fail her, emotions will not—within her heart, there will always be enough space to fit a certain Hound.

[thegoldencourtyard]

Not me with my Gallabin brainrot like how I would have Creek brainrot

[maliscanis]

//I just don't understand why there's no food for Gallabin. Her voice lines about him are so fucking sweet, they had weeks together in the Reef. Like the way she talks about him, it sounds like he's protected her before, and they've gotten to know each other as well as they could with Gallagher being alls neaky.

Sometimes love is a singer and her wolf meme private detective, okay?

[zerachielamora]

"No matter where I am in the future, I will definitely still hear your singing."

[gallabin]

Gallabin / Beauty and the Beast AU

[zerachielamora]

Beauty and the Beast

[gallabin]

[zerachielamora]

He'll hear her singing no matter where he is

She's seen his soft side that he likes to keep hidden

Both love music

The ship potential here is crazy

[gallabin]

[zerachielamora]

I made a twitter account dedicated to Gallabin because I love them and they need the representation

EDIT: Made a Tumblr account too!

[zerachielamora]

The hound and the bird