#i kinda wanna write more of this

[silent-stories]

Out of the castle

(Eddie Munson x F!reader) fantasy au

It's dangerous to leave the castle without any protection, without guards. This is what you had been told your whole life and yet, until that moment it was the only way you had found to have fun, relax and spend some time alone, without anyone telling you to walk with your head held higher, how to eat or what to say.

You had the opportunity to feel the grass under your feet, the sun's rays on your face and the wind in your hair, smell the scent of flowers and spices, meet new people or walk through the town market without everyone staring at you or worse, bowing.

You had never understood that stupid gesture that made you feel extremely embarrassed every time. You lived in a castle doing almost nothing every day and you were born with the privilege of getting to learn how to read and write while the common people worked hard to feed their families, sometimes giving up their daily meal for the sake of their children, and they were the ones who bowed when they saw you?

They deserved much more respect than you and your family.

However, your parents didn't seem to understand it.

You didn't know how far you had gone from the castle that morning, but that had never worried you since its towers were visible in every part of the the city, and perhaps the kingdom, from how tall they were.

The narrow path you had walked, wound through the trees and the leaves formed a green roof over your head, filtering the sun's rays. The ground was soft beneath your feet, covered in moss and some dry leaves.

You thought that if your mother found your muddy boots hidden in the closet again, she would kill you and the kingdom would be left without heirs.

The clearing you had reached was surrounded by many tall oaks and a lake, calm and serene, stretched out in front of you. The crystal clear water reflected the blue of the sky.

The frogs croaked undisturbed and some birds, hidden among the branches, were singing.

It seemed like one of those fairytale places that you only read about in books and you wondered if there were sometimes fairies there. You didn't know if they really existed or not but you had read so many legends about creatures like them, that you had started to believe them.

The "crazy" old man who preached outside the bakery a few days earlier was sure to talk to them every night.

“I thought I was the only one who knew about this place.” A voice coming from behind you almost made you fall into the lake. Luckily it didn't happen: you can't teach a princess to swim.

Turning around, you looked at the young man in front of you for a moment. He was wearing a beige shirt (buttoned the wrong way), dark pants with a seam on one knee, and a brown belt around his waist. He didn't seem to have any bad intentions and looked at you with only slight curiosity painted on his face. His curly hair was messy and his brown eyes were still staring at you.

"Since we're both here, I guess you were wrong." You finally spoke.

He softly chuckled under his breath. “How did you find this place?”

“I was just…exploring.”

"Mm." He looked at you like he thought you were lying. “Well, I often come here to fish, so as long as you don't steal my fish, you are allowed to stay.” He added with a smirk.

“Allowed” You repeated to yourself, chuckling. You almost wanted to say that that place was technically yours, considering that one day you would be queen, but you didn't.

"Wait a minute," he said, his eyes widening, "we've seen each other before."

"Oh, I don't think so." You were quick to deny. "I don't leave my house much, I like... reading and painting."

You closed your eyes for a moment, sighing. They were the richest activities anyone could mention, dammit.

"But we did!" He exclaimed as a smile formed on his face, dimples on his cheeks, "You gave me a gold coin a month ago."

He was definitely prettier than any man your father wanted you to marry.

You shrugged. "I don't remember."

So he was the boy singing sat on the sidewalk that everyone was ignoring that evening.

"That's impossible! I was playing my lute outside a shop and you left a fucking gold coin in my hat! My uncle and I got three meals a day for a week thanks to that, and I even bought new boots! I never had the chance to thank you because a moment later you were already gone and I always wondered how the hell you managed to have such a coin and why the hell you decided to give it to me but now-" his babbling suddenly stopped.

"What?" You asked.

"No way." He murmured. "God, I'm so stupid!" He added, suddenly starting to bow.

That was always the worst part.

"I'm really so stupid. I don't know how I didn't notice before, I beg you to forgive me, I never meant to disrespect you and I'm deeply sorry for any-"

"No no no. Please stop. Don't." You grabbed his arm before he could bow.

He stopped mid-action, his knee almost about to meet the ground, and looked up at you, surprised.

"I'm serious, really. There's no need" You added, helping him up.

"But you're the princess." He murmured, confused.

"I know. But it's not that important, really."

It sounded funny, you had to admit that.

When he stood up and you realized you were still holding his arm, you let your hand fall to your side.

“So I won't have my head chopped off in public?”

You laughed.

"I'm serious!"

"I'm sorry. No, your head will be on your shoulders for a while longer."

"Okay, in that case." He grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss that barely touched your fingers. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess of Hawkins. My name is Edward, Eddie to my friends, at your service."

“Call me Y/N, please.” A smile was on your lips caused by his theatrical ways.

"Wow." He murmured then, looking at you.

"What?"

"It's just... really weird. Seeing you here. Alone. Without twenty men ready to rip in two anyone who comes near you. Why aren't you...?" He raised an arm, pointing to the castle towers visible despite the tall trees. "I won't take 'I was exploring' for an answer."

"I ran away."

Eddie looked at you in surprise.

"I'll come back. I always come back. I have to. But sometimes I need time outside that castle. I can't spend my life locked inside those walls when there's a world to explore outside. So... I was really just exploring, actually."

"You have any idea how many people could like- kidnap you and return you to your family in exchange for chests full of gold? Assassins, pirates, hitmen..."

“Oh god, you sound like my family!”

He chuckled. "Sorry."

You never thought you'd find a friend outside the castle walls, someone you could talk to as if you weren't the heir to the throne and yet that morning, you spent it all talking to Eddie on the shore of the lake that only you seemed to know.

You realized that maybe Eddie could become your first friend ever.

You liked the way he laughed at your jokes and how he rolled his eyes, apologizing every time you scolded him when he called you “princess.”

"Do you know that your shirt is buttoned in the wrong way?"

"Princess, you live in a castle. You don't know the latest fashion trends."

You loved the way his brown eyes had so many shades of gold when they were hit by the sun's rays filtering through the leaves.

You liked the way he could weave fantasy with reality and confuse you, leading you to believe that the magic he claimed to be true actually existed.

"Of course fairies exist! They are small shiny beings and are only kind to those who are kind to them. A bit like all of us, isn't it?"

You liked his humor, sometimes you wondered if he did it on purpose or was he was just like that.

"What about dragons?"

"You telling me you've never seen a dragon?"

"You telling me you saw a fucking dragon?"

"Hey, you know that for a princess you talk a lot like the people who work at the port, sometimes?"

And after hours, when you realized that if you were gone too long, they would find out about your absence, you had to say goodbye to him.

"Do you... do you think I'll see you again?" You asked then.

"Hey, I told you. I come fishing here often. And you can find me sitting on some sidewalk playing my lute."

You laughed. "Of course. See you then."

"See you."

You laughed when he gave an awkward bow.

The moment you started to walk away, you remembered something.

"Hey, Eddie!" You called out to him, before pulling a gold coin out of a pocket in your dress and tossing it to him.

He caught it.

And like the time before, before he could thank you, you were already gone.

[jesuistrestriste]

Art Donaldson with literal loser reader? This is for the netizens of the world who don’t do anything but homely activities. Like for the depraved girls/nbs/boys whoever frfr like? Reader who’s obsessed w him, met him through a friend or sm??

art knows you don’t get out much.

he knows you’d prefer to stay inside and obsessively scroll twitter or tumblr or play video games as opposed to accompanying him to a party on campus.

by now, he knows all of your little habits that you’ve developed through your early youth and have grown to enjoy more than anything. he accepts them, because he accepts you.

but he also can’t deny that he’d love to take you out more than you usually let him.

he wants to take you out to a club and grab your hips and rut into your backside while you two drunkenly dance. and he wants to show you off to his friends when they all go out to the bar.

so when he fucks you.. he sometimes lets this stuff slip.

he’s pushing you down into the bedding and moaning into your neck, little gasps punctuating each roll of his hips against yours as he fills you with every single girthy inch of him. he reaches down for one of your hands and directs it to the back of his blonde locks, silently pleading with you to tug on them the way he likes.

“fuh-fuck,” he groans, his eyes rolling back as he gets close, “nobody even knows we’re dating… you— mngh—! you gotta come out with me this weekend… ohh god..”

and you pull on his hair and wrap your legs around him; your insides too stirred up to form a response. you feel him pummeling the deepest parts of your walls with an intensity that only washes in when he’s aching for something.

“… but.. ungh, fuck fuck fuck, i.. i think you like it, don’t you? staying in when im out… letting me come back to you at the end of the night and stuff my dick into this pretty hole of yours… letting me use you… AH— baby—! fuckkk, i’m gonna come inside you— i’m gonna come inside you, ’m gonna fucking— ohh god, please—“

and then he’s pulling himself out and slamming back in once, twice, three times before he lets out an anguished moan and spills warmly into your body; coating your parts in a thick, sticky, milky dose of desperation and longing as he pulls your back up into an arch while you yelp under him. he presses his stomach to yours as he rides out his high.

he so desperately wants you to quit the internet so that he can take you out properly and show you all of the ways he can make you happy.

he knows you liked him first—he was told that you’d had a huge crush on him—but none of it really mattered now. he’s obsessed with you too, so..

why won’t you let him show the world?

[art-is-kayos]

Checking up on his commission

[wikiangela]

"I'm going to ask Tommy to marry me." Buck says out of the blue one random evening, sitting in Eddie's living room, spread out in the armchair, sipping a beer, eyes on the TV, where Eddie and Christopher are playing a video game. His tone is even and firm, not even a hint of hesitation, it's not a huge revelation, or even a decision he's made just now. He's been thinking about it for weeks, maybe months. He doesn't know why he says it now, it just slips out - maybe he just needed to talk to his best friend about it.

"Really?" he hears a hint of surprise in Eddie's voice, but when he looks at his best friend, he's still focused on trying to beat his son at the game. He's smiling, sparing a glance at Buck. "That's great, Buck."

"Yeah?" he breathes out, feeling even more settled now. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but still felt kind of like he did when he came out to Eddie. Like he just wanted his best friend to approve, to support him - and he had no doubt he would.

"Of course," Eddie answers easily. "You guys are perfect together, and you love each other, and if you're sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Tommy, yeah, go for it. I'm happy for you," he adds, finally looking at Buck, a soft, genuine smile on his face. Christopher uses this moment to win the game, and Eddie groans at his triumphant yell. "Aw, not fair, Buck distracted me." Both Buck and Chis laugh, while Eddie pouts for a moment, before a smile breaks through anyway.

"Well, I won." Chris shrugs with a grin. "And I think it'd be so cool if you and Tommy get married," he adds, moving his attention to Buck.

"Yeah?" Buck repeats, his smile even wider now. Having two of his favorite people not only really love his partner - Buck's pretty sure Tommy's the first one to spend so much time with all of them together, and it feeling so right - but also approve of Buck wanting to tie him into their family forever.

"Duh, Tommy's the coolest." Chris rolls his eyes. "Better lock him down while you can," he jokes, and Buck gasps in surprise. He's such a teenager.

"Wow, rude. He's not going anywhere." he shakes his head with a laugh. That much he's sure of, for the first time in his life he's not scared of getting left, of his partner getting bored or fed up. He knows Tommy's gonna be right at his side no matter what.

"Not if you put a ring on it." Eddie joins his son's teasing. Laughing, Buck reaches over to the table to pick up a chip from a bowl and throw it at Eddie, who dodges it as it lands somewhere on the couch. "Hey!"

"But seriously, you don't think it's too soon?" Buck asks after a moment, a little bit of nerves seeping into his tone. He's more than sure about wanting to marry Tommy. He's just a little scared that he's gonna freak him out. They have talked about this, about their future, what they want out of this relationship, out of life, but they never really discussed any timelines, and Buck might be a little in his head about this. Hence why he needed to talk to someone about it, probably.

"Buck, you've been together for over a year. Some people get married after less." Eddie raises an eyebrow. "When you know, you know." He shrugs, and Buck releases a breath. Because he does know. He has known for a long time now.

"So you think he'll say yes?" Buck asks, but he knows the answer before Eddie has a chance to roll his eyes with fond exasperation. Tommy loves him. He loves Tommy so much his heart wants to burst out of his chest and live in Tommy's. Tommy is his forever, he's sure of it, and he knows that when he asks, and it's going to be very soon, he'll get a positive answer.

"He'll say yes." Eddie says with a small shake of his head and a wide smile. "Now, two important questions from me: who's gonna be your best man, and do you need help planning and picking out a ring?"

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 to this post

'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.

It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.

Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'

'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'

Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.

'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'

'What happened?'

He sighs. 'It's complicated.'

'Wanna tell me about it?'

The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.

But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.

He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and – no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.

'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.

Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.

'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that – that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'

'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.

Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'

Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.

'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.

'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'

'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'

She nods. 'Okay.'

For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.

'Is it Eddie?'

Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.

'Wha- what?'

'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'

'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.

Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'

Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'

'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'

'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'

Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way – and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'

To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.

'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'

'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'

'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'

'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.

Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

AGH FASHION DESIGNER SUGURU AND MODEL SATORU W A NEW INTERN DESIGNER UNDER THEIR WING 😞😞☹️ - 🌺

WAHHHH I LOVE THIS 🥺🥺🥺 the pining and flirting and slowburn of it all… model!satoru and his favorite designer suguru geto, both of them undeniably skilled and born with an eye for fashion….. well-known and adored……..

designer!suguru who gets tasked with showing you the ropes, who’s always so patient and kind despite your inexperience. diligent with his teaching but also so laidback, so easy to talk to… he looks intimidating, but he’s so polite that you can’t help but swoon a little. and he admires your enthusiasm so much…… grows fond of you soooo quickly bc you’re just such a breath of fresh air compared to the divas he’s forced to work with all the time. he thinks you’ve got real potential and he wants to nurture it.

and ofc you end up running into model!satoru eventually…. bc he’s always hanging around suguru whenever he gets the chance. and he’s maybe a little jealous that you’re hogging so much of his personal designer’s attention, but… he also thinks you’re so cute . T_T like a little puppy following suguru around… so excited to be apart of what you’ve dreamed of for so many years……… he looks into your eyes and sees the same sparkle he had before he made it big, and it makes his heart race.

yeah . i’m just thinking abt the peaceful coffee breaks with suguru….. how he’d insist on paying for your drink, ”since he’s your senior” (he wants to be your favorite </3)…… and how he’d just be so protective over his little intern. don’t get me started on the close proximity with satoru when you’re taking his measurements, the glance and smile he sends your way during an impromptu shoot… the way he always calls for you with a sweet coo of ”how’s my favorite intern doing today?”

😔😔😔 yeahhhhhh. they make me feel ill.

[onismdaydream]

Way too close boy best friend denji 😋

You guys are just really good friends and you've known each other since forever and you guys are just affectionate like that ☹️

HIII ANON <333 i love this idea :(( and i have officially caught up with the manga so i can at least write some thoughts down hehe

there's a familiarity between the two of you that other people just don't get. they don't understand why you're so comfortable sitting on denji's lap when there's an open seat right next to him, or why you wipe food from the corner of his mouth and then lick your thumb clean, or why his hands are always on you especially when your boyfriend is right there! and no matter how many times you say "oh, it's just denji though! we're just beat friends!", people always look at you with such doubt.

and it's not like you haven't thought about denji in that way before, i mean... look at him! he's so cute and he's actually funny and maybe you get those little butterflies when his hands rest on your waist like they were made to fit there and maybe you catch yourself staring at his chest when you go swimming but that's just because you love him, totally and completely platonically!!

and yeah, maybe denji also thinks about you and how soft you are when he's alone in his room, how you actually like spending time with him when so many others seem to only like him for their own gain, how your body seems to mold against his perfectly when you cuddle during shitty movie marathons. but it's just because the two of you are such good friends!

[fairylightspml]

dan saying every song on the preshow playlist is thematically relevant to the show ☹️☹️☹️

[shuutingstar]

pjo side characters have to be the funniest shits in the world. like all the campers at camp are all doing their own thing while the main characters go save the world for the hundredth time. I’ve fallen madly in love with every single one of them and all of Rick’s books that showcase just how chaotic and unhinged they are will always be my favourites. it’s sad that they’re background characters because they’ve got the potential to be so much more.

[tragicvampireromanceisland]

thinking so long and hard about joyness once more…like yesss they are very cute and sweet and all but i think them getting together even after their History is sooo interesting. like, does joy first start hanging out around sadness and talking with her more often out of guilt? is it performative? when does it stop being performative?? and at what point does joy realize it’s stopped being performative? how does joy feel when every single interaction she has with sadness after the events of the first movie are just like…constant reminders of how she screwed up with her prior? liking someone who makes her feel that bad when she normally never lingers on what she's done wrong just seems so counterintuitive (fun fact: joy has literally never genuinely apologized for anything she's done, across both movies. she's acknowledged and fixed her mistakes before, sure, but she has never expressed guilt so straightforwardly like that. is she simply incapable of it? or has she just...never given importance to feeling guilty before so long as she can just Fix her mistake? just something very interesting i've noticed...)!!

like, joy’s canonically admitted that she’s literally tried to kick sadness out of headquarters before. that’s truly how little joy thought of her before she got to know her better…she totally would have been fine with just. never seeing her again. imagine disliking your coworker THAT much since the very first day you met her and now you have feelings for her…?! not a possibility joy ever would have considered, and i think joy would struggle a Lot with coming to terms with that initially. she is the Queen of cognitive dissonance. of being Delusional. it’s HARD to shake off old habits just like that!! joy is someone who very much doesn’t fully acknowledge how she feels until it gets so intense it bubbles up to the surface and breaks through her usual demeanor (we’ve seen that both with how she’s gotten sad and angry before…who’s to say romance would not be the same. i think she’d just keep denying it until she just. has an Ah Shit moment with sadness one day. probably over something completely mundane).

and it certainly doesn’t help that sadness is, well. Sadness! she clearly admires joy from the very beginning even when joy treated her so poorly (knowing her she probably thought she deserved it…sigh). she’d literally just assume absolutely nothing would come out of her feelings. and you know she probably might even romanticize and Enjoy it in a weird way…i mean think about it. she canonically likes sad romance novels…this is her own "tragic romance" (apparently. SUPPOSEDLY) so i think she’d kind of insistently cling to that. define their entire relationship as unrequited and reallyyy lean into it and warp anything that happens otherwise to fit her little Doomed Yuri vision. she's observant as hell for pretty much everything, normally, but she just has goddamn Horse Blinders on for just this one thing specifically.

she’s just completely unaware of how fundamentally she’s changed joy and shattered her entire worldview (meanwhile joy is just busy having a whole crisis about exactly that). and NOW she has to deal with actually being treated like she matters, both by joy and the other emotions?? helloooo? she’s definitely got a lot to process by this point because Her entire way of living has changed too now in an entirely different direction.

AND then you add to that how it's pretty clear that sadness knows joy pretty well, but joy still has a Lot to learn about sadness because she never gave her a chance before...very much a recipe for guilt and confusion and miscommunication and other such weird occurrences to arise.

BASICALLY tldr theyre both kind of idiots and i think their dynamic is a little more complicated than people give it credit for. joyness is a veryyy. She fell first (sadness) she fell harder (joy) type of dynamic. To 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?

[shoezuki]

There was never a point where Qlipoth was not. No moment of sudden existence, no prelude to His divinity nor a point where matter gathered into Aeonhood. He always Was, and always will Be.

He does not know when life burst into existence or what started it. The specks of life were far beneath His awareness, growing and evolving and developing within the blinks of eons that passed by Qlipoth's notice. Maybe life was always there, maybe it grew from the shattered atoms of the Leviathans Qlipoth smashed to pieces as they krept out of the Nothing behind the foundations of His Wall. Whatever it was, wherever mortal life came from, He was oblivious to it.

It was once life developed to the point of sentience, to feeling, that Aha popped into existence. Qlipoth would spend the rest of His existence wishing he'd been aware of life, so maybe He could squish it out before Aha could become the longest lasting thorn in Qlipoth's side.

Aha was a molecular flash of light, a pop of noise sudden and so small Qlipoth shouldn't have even noticed it. But He did, suddenly so hyperaware of the atomic presence that suddenly manifested in the cosmos with Him. It stilled His hammer, made Him turn a few rare degrees away from His Wall, and lurch forward at the small being of air and light and noise.

Aha couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't grasp much of anything. Its form was incomplete, shaky and made up of the barely existing thoughts and feelings of sentient creatures that Qlipoth didn't know existed until this very moment. It could move, barely, flickering between atoms as a divine electron.

It couldn't speak. But it could laugh. It cackled, shrill vibrating sounds that echoed between dark matter and the empty space of the universe. It laughed, and laughed and laughed until it's laughter became it's name-- mere seconds right before Qlipoth swung His hammer and dissolved the Aeon into nothing.

Qlipoth settled back into His isolation and went back to building the Wall.

That should have been it. The molecular Aeon should have ceased to exist.

Mortal life evolved further, from shivering molecules to singular cells, to multicellular organisms and shimmering, immaterial beings of sensations. Qlipoth noted it a bit more now, more out of concern for His Wall or any other strange beings that will crop up, but nothing more.

Aha's burst into existence was bigger, more prevalant, just as sudden and overwhelming to Qlipoth's infinite senses as before. He never noticed the fragments of Aha, scattered between atoms, nor how they suddenly snapped altogether once more into a being more developed than before. Aha had a form now, mismatched swirls of varying limbs and claws and tentacles much like the immature physical forms of the mortal life Aha spawned from. Aha was made up of colours that didn't exist yet, sounds that had no place in Qlipoth's quiet galaxies.

The new Aeon was just as small to Qlipoth, but was still so much more than the first time it popped up those thousands of years ago. It instantly started to laugh, but it couldn't do much more than that, it's attempts at speech cheery garbled nonexistent words.

For the first time in Qlipoth's endless existence, He felt something, an emotion breaching the divinity -- annoyance.

Aha cackled and tried to speak up at Him, undulating limbs vibrating and thrown around in something like cheer. Qlipoth's reaction was near instant, a pivot from His Wall and a swing of His hammer. But Aha knew better then, no doubt remembering the scattering of it's being as it zipped across the universe and narrowly avoided being dissolved once more. Aha gigglees in a way that shakes stars and Qlipoth simmered with new feelings that burned across His gargantuan form. The miniscule Aeons gargled non-speech tempted Him to strike again, but Qlipoth just barely resisted and returned to His Wall.

Aha hovered around Qlipoth for an indescribable amount of time. It challenged Him, toeing closer and closer to the Wall, seeing how close it could get before Qlipoth snapped and swung at it. Sometimes Aha gets scattered again, not dodging quick enough, only taking a few centuries to reform, only for Aha to return to testing Qlipoth's patience. It's only fitting that the very first game is entirely built on bothering the much larger Aeon.

Annoyance, frustration, and rage were all becoming familiar feelings to Qlipoth. It's all fixated on Aha, the sole fixation of His emotions. The cause of it, Qlipoth eventually realized; when Aha is scattered or it's flickering attention pulled elsewhere, Qlipoth's entire existence returned to the unfeeling need to protect, to build, to close off the universe from the Nothing. The moments and decades between the Elation being shattered and reforming feel like intermissions, waiting for Aha to return.

Qlipoth at some point realized He welcomed the strange, small Aeon and the range of feeling it instilled in Him. Qlipoth stopped shattering the Aeon so much, only when Aha decided to be truly bothersome and started picking away at the Wall. It seems like the other Aeon can't be destroyed anyways, and maybe He doesn't always want it gone anymore.

There's other Aeons. They creep into existence, ascending to divinity. Qlipoth paid them no mind, not caring where or when or how they begin. Long seemed to simply always exist, perhaps having been outside of Qlipoth's notice this whole time. HooH appeared a few times to judge the Wall, their twin gazes seeming to find the structure satisfactory every time they appeared while Qlipoth continued to build unbothered. The Voracity is pummeled and nearly destroyed when they consume a segment of the Wall, Qlipoth leaving them to scamper back into the Nothing and lick their wounds. Oroboros lays low for centuries after that but does not tempt Qlipoth's ire again.

Qlipoth wouldn't care much about them, wouldn't know anything about the other Aeons or anything kept within His Wall really, if Aha wasn't constantly blabbering to Him.

"Aha likes this Trailblaze guy," it hummed, sitting on empty space up by Qlipoth's shoulder, kicking it's legs back and forth. Aha is larger now, no longer a molecule in comparison to His size but more of a pebble, a bug. It's form is made up of strange manmade objects, grinning masks and musical instruments and toys and ribbons. "They're funny! And much less standoffish than you are, you hunk of rocks."

Aha giggled at Qlipoth's rumbling reply, the sound of tectonic plates shifting and meteors crackling apart. Aha's voice was a symphony of many, hundreds of different tones and words spoken in hundreds of different accents and languages. Verbal speech isn't necessary, something Qlipoth always made abundantly clear in His otherworldly responses. Aha never listened, just laughed Qlipoth off and waved one of many gloved hands. It always was one for theatrics.

"Hey! It's not Aha's fault your a stick in the mud." There was the sound of a slow landslide, debris and gravel scraping over a slanted rockface. "It means you're boring, old, and not cool at all. Which you aren't! At least Akivili knows how to cut loose. They got some big ideas, something about trains and space faring or whatever. Aha is excited to see where that goes!"

A harsh sound of stone snapping, and Aha paused, leaning forward and holding up their grinning mask face with a twitching hand. Qlipoth refused to acknowledge them. "If Aha wanted to hang out with Akivili, it would be with them now." His grumble was a slow collision of planets. "My dear Qlipoth, are you jealous?"

Qlipoth didn't respond, which was definitely the worst choice He'd made. Aha giggled, then snorted, then cackled and vibrated as it shifted the surrounding stars around it's glee. Aha finally settled down and controlled itself after a few years, sitting down on Qlipoth's shoulder with a sigh. Qlipoth halfhearted swatted at the other Aeon, who dodged effortlessly after eons of practice.

"Ahhh, that's funny. You're funny sometimes, y'know that?" Aha exhaled, wiping at diamond tears from its eyes. "Aha takes back the 'stick in the mud' thing. Really, though, you're a good friend." A hummed sound of a mountain forming, earth's crust cracking. "It means Aha likes being around you and likes your company. It's a mortal concept-- Aha knows, it knows! That's very below you, oh majestic Amber Lord you, but. Aha likes it."

There was silence. Qlipoth, as always, had nothing to say, but Aha's lack of constant stammering and babbling is notable. It was almost a bit unnerving, until Aha sucked in a sharp, unnecessary breath. "Aaaaaanyways, what was Aha saying? Oh! Yeah, Akivili is interesting, but this other guy-- the Propagation? They've got a name but it's way too long and boring-- is kinda concerning. They are just gross and they have no personality! Seriously, they're becoming a bit of a problem. Just a massive bug hivemind... Aha tried talkin' to some of them, but they don't understand Aha's jokes. No class, I say. Oh, and Aha hasn't seen HooH in a while, because they tried to organize Aha into two categories last time. Aha blew up a planet of their worshippers after that but they didn't care. Hey, have you seen Oroboros around anywhere? Aha has been wondering what would happen if they try and swallow Aha, but..."

Qlipoth didn't like how Ena the Order looked at Aha.

Aha was a force of chaos, as unpredictable and uncontained as the growing mortal populations the Elation seems to love so dearly. It ran around the vast universe constantly, always on the move and causing problems. Aha returned to Qlipoth fairly regularly but still sparodically, sometimes centuries between visits at the Wall, and sometimes thousands of years before it returned to pester Him. Regardless, Aha always brought emotions back to Qlipoth's awareness, the capacities for frustration, annoyance, interest, irritation, and maybe contentment. Aha brought first hand accounts of the chaos it caused, too; planets destroyed or warped into strange shapes, galaxies rearranged so that their gravity sang a sweeter tune, populations of sentient creatures made to dance and weep and scream. Aha tipped the universe out of balance, danced on the edge of the Nothing and along all other Paths, all for entertainment.

Qlipoth did not like how Ena watched the Elation. Qlipoth did not watch any other Aeon like He did Ena; the Order crossed Paths with the Elation often, tidying up Aha's messes and rearranging the chaos Aha created. Even the kinder things Aha did, planets moved to spin at a calmer rate and starforms turned beautiful arrays of colour, were all fixed with Ena's mechanical, methodical hands.

Ena looked at Aha's uncertainty and rampant emotional chaos like She wanted to solve it, fix it, be rid of it.

The Propagation was expanding outside of Qlipoth's notice, His knowledge of it only due to Aha's complaining. Ena confronted him with a proposition, a deal. Spoken in vibrations, constant tones. The Propagation needed to be exterminated. Qlipoth did not care.

The Propagation was killing thousands of mortals, was overtaking the universe. Qlipoth gathered and spawned more minerals for the Wall. The Propagation could kill Aha, the Elation, along with the universe. The mention of Aha sparked enough sentience to make Qlipoth rumble with a mockery of a laugh.

Ena's hands crackled, porcelain and gold joints crackling. Ena's eye swirled and landed on Qlipoth, fierce with threat. Qlipoth finally paused and looked at the other Aeon, and accepted the proposition.

The Order is absorbed before Qlipoth confronts Tayzzyronth, Xipe the Harmony overcoming Order and standing alongside the Aeons as Qlipoth fractures the Propagation with His hammer. Aha watched with interest, cheering and screaming and celebrating far too loudly as Qlipoth seals the remnants of Tayzzyronth in amber. Xipe watched Aha's pluming sparkles and confetti, his raoucous chaos and disorder, and their giggle sounds like a symphony.

Qlipoth found himself content with Xipe. Ena held up Her side of the deal well.

Aha started adding to the Wall.

At first it was to annoy Qlipoth, grabbing meteors and debris and strange starforms and shoving them into the Wall without care. But the first time made Him vibrate and rumble with approval, sounding of the pop of plants rising from earth and stones being weathered down smooth. That had made Aha freeze deadly still more than any annoyed retort or swing of His hammer had before, made the Elation stare at Him strangely. Being met with even Qlipoth's stony gratitude rather than being the brunt of frustration seemed to make Aha glitch.

Aha, of course, proceeded to plunge it's hands into the Wall and rearrange the physical matter, not even bothering to run when Qlipoth slammed His hammer down on the Aeon. Aha's particles shattered against the Wall.

Aha reformed some time later, cursing Qlipoth out in every language possible, but Aha kept adding to the Wall. It was always strange, unnecessary things; sparkling gems, debris from shipwrecks, the fossilized remains of extinct animals, manmade creations that stuck out awkwardly. Aha shifted the Wall and created statues in the Elation's likeness, hundreds of thousands of Aha figures jutting from the Wall. But it never broke the Wall or interferred with its integrity every again. Aha's additions to the Wall barely made a difference, were barely noticeable. But Qlipoth found Himself humming with contentment each time Aha added another knicknack to it.

Qlipoth watched on as Aha waltzed along the Wall, nearly tripping into the Nothing as it danced and sang, recreated plays and theatre performances it stole from humans. Qlipoth could only feel when Aha was around, but it had taken Him until those moments to really feel some appreciation for a Path other than His own.

Other Aeons came into existence.

Yaoshi sprung to life from twisted plantmatter, intertwining into something greater. Aha first found interest in this, then grew bored of the single-minded desire to grow for the sake of growth itself. "You'd think growing and eternal life and all that would lead to more fun," Aha once lamented, "but Yaoshi makes those mortals so... dull. They become numb and wither away. Where's the fun in that?"

Lan rose in response to Yaoshi, a being of pure rage and a thirst for blood. Aha poked and prodded and mocked until arrows rained across the cosmos, green strikes of lightning briming with rage as Aha laughed and danced around them. Sometimes he hid behind Qlipoth who never even flinched as the arrows striked His back, and rarely did Lan hit his mark. Nous made Aha uncomfortable in contrast, but intrigued him in a strange way. "That bucket of metal wants to dissect Aha," the Elation would shiver, faces crying in exagerated unison, "wants to pin Aha to a board in her library. You should kill Nous." Aha wept further at the sound of stars crumbling with Qlipoth's refusal.

Qlipoth had turned towards Nanook when Aha regaled tales of being threatened, but thankfully found that the Destruction was unimpressed with the smallest Aeon, easily fooled by Aha's childishness. Fuli showed clear disdain for Aha as it stole human memories for itself, but unlike Ena at least they showed enough restraint to ignore Aha.

IX was a challenge to the Elation. Mythus was hilarious, and Terminus couldn't take a joke.

Aeons fell, too.

Idrila ceased to be and Aha quickly masqueraded as the Beauty, sending Knights of Beauty and wild journeys. Long fragmented eons ago, outside of Qlipoth's notice.

The arrows Lan sent racing towards Aha rarely hit their mark, but sometimes they did. Piercing rays of rage, hot-white anger would send Aha scattering in a burst of laughter. Aha would always, always reform.

Aha had always had an interest in mortals. In the smaller aspects of the universe. So often when rambling to Qlipoth it spoke of legions of starhopping amphibians, movies or plays it'd plucked from mortal memory and kept to itself, the overly intricate ships humans made to traverse galaxies, the strange games and music and drinks they created through their small existences.

"Have you ever left this Wall, Qlipoth?" Aha once asked, placing jewelry and gems on the Wall, "ever even like, turned around and looked at what you're preserving?" There's an echo of thunder, of earthquakes settling. "Yes yes, Aha gets it! It's all beneath you, it doesn't matter, blah blah. You old bastard."

There was a stitled moment of silence, save for Aha's constant humming, before it whined again. "But, really! You Aeons are all so high and mighty and stuck up sometimes. Have you ever even tried to eat some food? Like, something those mortals cooked up? Wait. Do you even have a mouth."

Qlipoth's minerals clattered against each other in response. Aha huffed, crossed it's dozens of arms, masks swirling upside down. "... Y'know, Akivili hangs out with mortals. And Akivili has a mouth."

He didn't respond, but the next swing of His hammer crushed a fleet of surveying IPC ships. Aha applauded.

"Aha made a puppet," the Elation reported to Qlipoth much, much later. It had been an extensive amount of time since Aha visited Him last, but Qlipoth would never let Aha know he kept track. "Aha put the puppet on one of Akivili's Astral Expresses. It was a lot of fun, but it wasn't Aha. So Aha blew it up! You should've seen Akivili's face!" Aha cackled, kicking it's feet and tumbling far too close into the Nothing. The Elation didn't even seem to notice how Qlipoth pulled it back behind His Wall, too busy rejoicing in what it did.

Akivili fell not long after.

When Aha visited next, Qlipoth didn't need to say a thing to have the other Aeon huffing, it's hackles raising and millions of bells furiously ringing. "Aha had nothing to do with that, you heap of rocks! To accuse your dearest friend, Aha, of that! For shame." Qlipoth's garguantuan body grinds against itself as He tilts his head, riling it up further. "Don't give Aha that bullshit! You were thinking it! Aha could hear the thought clattering 'round that pebble mind of yours. Really, it blows up one Astral Express and suddenly Aha is the Akivili killer. Ridiculous!"

Qlipoth just tuned out Aha's rambling, turning back to the wall and not noticing when Aha enters an unsettling silence.

Something changed in Aha ever since its stint on the Express.

Aha had always been a being of pure energy, flighty and erratic as it sought out thrills across the universe. Even the moments it spent on Qlipoth's Wall were full of energy, rambling about nothing and bouncing atop and across the Wall.

But the Elation had become quiet. It's journeys and chaotic jokes across the galaxies never stilled, but it became quiet in His shadow. There wasn't any rambling gossip, complaints about the other 'stuck up' Aeons or stories of the Elation Aha had created. It became pensive, a pensiveness overtaking it's constantly anxious energy. It was strange, and uncanny. Qlipoth found Aha's restless melancholy contagious. Qlipoth tried not to wonder, not to care.

"Aha has decided," Aha hummed out a single note, a voice of low cords, "to make itself mortal."

Aha was always reckless and idiotic, never one to think anything through. It's actions were always spur of the moments, never planned or deliberated over. It had never told Qlipoth what it wanted to do before. This wasn't the Aeon asking for advice let alone permission, more like it musing aloud, but Qlipoth still responded.

The sound of planets colliding, the slow and agonizing growth of the edge the universe. Stars crackling and burning themselves into extinction, intercepting galaxies leaving only destruction. Qlipoth's disgust and disapproval made the Nothing quiver. Aha was unaffected.

"Aha talked to Nous," it continued, laying back on one of the many meteors that make up His body. The Elation felt like a smoldering jubilation against His rocky surface. "She said it's impossible and got way too interesting, but Aha is gonna do it anyways."

There's never a point in arguing with Aha, not that Qlipoth ever bothered to before. He doesn't then either, doesn't say anything as Aha zips away without a word, leaving sounds of soft revelry in its wake.

Qlipoth found what remained of Aha later. Aha never returned after that last visit, and all that was left of it was butchered remains, the Elation flayed and left in scattered limbs and objects beside the Nothing. Whatever was left of Aha wasn't there, not among it's still living dismembered corpse.

The remains of Aha wasn't enough to spark any feeling in Qlipoth. As He built the Wall He only paused a moment with recognition, no feelings of melancholy, rage, annoyance. Qlipoth did not care.

But, as the eternally growing Wall approached the remains of Aha, Qlipoth moved it, shifted the Celestial Wall to encase Aha, wrapping around it in a cocoon of amber.

[chipistrate]

Scared and Alone

(Click for better quality) Dr. Rabbit is officially my second favorite fnaf character(right next to Gregory) He's just such a little shit I love him<3

Anyway- me when I'm luring me and my coworkers therapists to their death and my coworker is annoyed at how much cleaning she's going to have to do afterwards

No text version below cut(has silly dialogue):

Screen transcript:

(Dr. Rabbit) >Girl I stg why are all our therapists soooo ass

(Vanny) >You're like >10 >Can you say that

(Dr. Rabbit) >Not like my "parents" can stop me

(Vanny) >Jesus Christ dude

[crybaby-bkg]

have u ever considered gojo trying to tease you about how into it you get whenever you suck him off, but how flustered he gets when you admit yeah, I like it more than I thought i would, mainly because it’s you, because you’re so pretty to look up at, you always treats me so well when I’m on my knees for you. now you’ve killed him, especially with the way you’ve been touching yourself all the while running your tongue up at that one vein on his shaft. dead. gone and buried.

[raineyraven]

just watched vide noir (2022) and i have to say the tragedy of a man whose love leaves him because he wasn't what she needed him to be, who through his journey to find her again became the man she wanted him to be so that he could get to her, only to reach her and find that it's too late to get her back, who grew and changed in his quest for someone who was always going to be out of his reach and he didn't know it until he'd undergone that change?? that shit fucks oh my god.

[stevebabey]

let the kisses linger

word count: 3.3k summary: Steve Harrington is not your boyfriend, not yet. So far you’ve had a couple sweet kisses and an infuriating amount of dates spent with him making you nervous. Now, you just want to kiss him like you mean it, more than a peck, and maybe ask him to be your boyfriend while you do it. Steve beats you to it, on both counts. [cheeky tiny makeout + gn!reader (but r is mentioned to wear a bikini) + first relationship!reader]

It starts with a touch.

You’ve come to learn it always does with Steve. Fingers skirting along any bare skin he can find, drawing a line on your waist when just a sliver is exposed. Along the ridge of your neck, curling his hand to rest against your shoulder. His fingertips tease at your neck, feather-soft touches that can make you shiver if you’re not expecting it.

You think he does it just to see the goosebumps that trail in the wake of his touch. From the way he always grins, like the cat that got the cream, you’re probably right.

Steve can’t help it. You’re so responsive.

Maybe it’s because it’s new, this thing between you and Steve — you’ve been on a couple dates together after a string of painfully obvious flirtations over the Family Video counter that Robin had been forced to witness. You’ve just not quite sealed the deal yet.

However, even though Steve’s had more girlfriends than he can count on one hand, this part? Never gets old.

The electricity. The dance, the build-up; getting to see how you react when you’re not quite expecting him to be as close and touchy as he is.

He adores all of it. The delightful shudder you give when he slips his fingers into your hair, gifting a soft scratch along your scalp when you two had gotten cozy during a film. Your gloriously warm cheeks give you away even though Steve can read exactly when you’re nervous.

You’re utterly precious to him — and Steve wouldn’t exchange your shy smiles, flushed cheeks, or your nervous little reactions that are all because of him, for anything in the world.

Maybe it’s because you’re new to this.

First date, first time holding hands, first kiss — you’ve given them all to Steve. With the seriousness he takes them all, wholly prepared to blow your expectations out of the water, you feel you can trust them with him.

But even with trust, there’s no quelling the sticky nervousness that runs free beneath your skin when his hands begin to wander.

At first, it made you freeze. Not sure how to relax under hands that just want to hold you, touch you, just cos’ they can.

You think it took, maybe, a whole hour for you to relax and let yourself slump against Steve on your fourth date, curled up together on the couch. You think Steve knew of your nervousness and thanked him silently for his nonchalance at your stiffness. Not one comment was made.

You had relaxed into his side eventually. Steve, of course, had then gone and wrapped an arm around you and pulled you back into his chest and you’d gone straight back to tensed up.

His arms were wound around your middle, hands resting on your tummy and you hadn’t a clue on how you were supposed to be calm about it. You had mentally cursed his pretty hands, and his warm arms, and prayed to whoever was listening to grant you some semblance of strength.

And then, the bastard had leaned down, lips ghosting the shell of your ear, and whispered, “Y’can relax, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the grin, cursing how you tensed up more — and forced yourself to melt against him. His arms tightened, pulling you closer as if this had been his plan all along. Steve’s chuckle wouldn’t have been audible if you hadn’t been so close to him.

Yeah, he definitely knew how nervous he made you.

The difference between then and now? Now, you want his wandering touch. Steve had been so sweet and good in the beginning, a little bit of teasing to watch you blush and squirm, and then he’d back off. Make sure you were actually comfortable.

You’re not sure you’ll shake the nerves with him — it’s just a Steve thing. He’s gorgeous, you’re nervous, the sky is blue, yadda yadda.

But how do you send a different message — tell him that he’s started a hunger in you that’s not quite satisfied with fleeting touches — when all you can do is shiver and blush when he puts his hands on you?

However you do, you need to figure it out, like, stat.

Today, in the blistering swell of summer, it’s getting near unbearable. At the Harrington house, Steve’s invited the party around for a bit of a pool party and you think you might die if you get to see him shirtless for any longer without getting your hands on him.

Steve’s meanly decided to forgo his shirt. It leaves him walking around in only slightly too short swim shorts and a smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You get a tasty eyeful of his warm tan skin on display through the patio doors, your eyes tracking each mole on his skin. He’s scooping the pool free of leaves and you honestly feel like this is the start of some shitty porno with you lusting over the pool-boy. You’re fairly sure he knows you’re staring which makes it worse. He’s evil.

The muscles in his back ripple as he cleans, biceps bulging deliciously and you might seriously start drooling at the sight—how did you get him to go out with you, again?

“You’re drooling.”

Beside you in the kitchen, big sunglasses pushing back her fringe, Robin manages to startle you with her silent appearance. You jump just a bit, tearing your eyes away from Steve — you hadn’t heard her approach.

Your hand flies to your mouth, wiping fast. Embarrassment flushes up when you swipe at nothing and Robin cackles at the sight. 

You roll your eyes but it does little to deter the heat in your face.

“I’m just messing with ya,” She nudges her shoulder against yours, her grin looking far too cheeky for your liking. Like she could read into every thought that had just been streaming through your head. You silently hope not.

“I wasn’t- there was no drooling.” You say, the conviction in your voice weakening with each word.

Robin wrinkles her nose. “That was a lie of epic proportions. You so were.”

You pout a bit, embarrassment still shining through. Robin just grins further and adjusts her sunglasses. She heads to the fridge, pulls it open, and plucks out some orange juice, beginning to drink from the bottle.

“No shame.” She says lightly, between a gulp, then reconsiders after a moment, her eyes bright. “Okay, a little shame — you looked ready to jump him right here and now.”

Your face might rival the sun in heat right now.

“But he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?” It comes out a bit gargled from the juice she’s yet to swallow. Boyfriend comes out like bwoyfend. She continues after a swallow. “If anyone’s allowed to ogle, it’d be you, no?”

Uh oh. The B-word. The not-yet official name that you’re not sure you’re allowed to use in reference to Steve just yet.

“Um,” you cough a bit, wondering if you can skirt around the question. Yes some part of you sings, because you really really want him to be. You have to scold yourself for fibbing, even if it’s only in your head. Robin takes another swig, her eyes still on you.

“Not exactly.” You admit sheepishly, a hand coming up to rub the back of your neck. “We haven’t— he hasn’t- it’s not like that. Yet.”

Robin grins as she watches you fumble for words, screwing the cap back on the OJ. She leans her hip against the countertop, casting a glance out the window.

You go to follow her look and then think the better of it, focusing back on Robin. Like you need your blush to get any more fierce.

“Dingus is being stupid. He probably just needs a nudge.” Her eyes spy the thin cherry-red strap of your bikini, peeking out beneath your cotton shirt. “I’m sure that bikini will do the trick.”

She seems to hear herself, her eyes widening a moment later, slipping into a raspy ramble you know well. “Though, it should be said I totally believe Steve likes you for your personality. He’s not like— he wouldn’t just- he’s a multi-faceted man with many many layers!”

It all bursts out a bit frantic, so very Robin. You’re both amused at her insistence that Steve doesn’t just view you as eye-candy and grateful for the way she’s managed to melt off some of your nerves, huffing a small laugh at her dramatics.

“Who is?” Steve asks, voice cutting into the conversation.

You startle a moment, surprised. He’s standing in the doorway that leads out to the pool, both arms stretched above his head to grasp the top of the door frame, leaning into it. You can’t help the way your gaze instantly draws up along his arms, far too fixated on the delicious show of his muscles to properly focus on answering his question.

“Certainly not you, dingus.” Robin comments, already clocking the hazed expression on your face. She recognizes the same absurd flirting face on Steve she’d become far too familiar with at Scoops and takes her cue, orange juice in hand.

“People arrive in like 5 minutes, just remember!” The knowing in her tone makes you consider blushing again, just to be ashamed of how quickly she had read you for filth.

Steve certainly seems to know too. He drops his arms, waltzing in to meet you in the kitchen and you will yourself not to step back when he comes a little closer than expected.

“This is a nice little number,” he murmurs, voice low. His eyes are trained on your shoulder and before you ask what he means, his hand comes up, fingers toying with the strap of your bikini. Where his skin meets yours, fire streaks beneath it, like a connecting point of static electricity.

“You think?” You ask a little breathier than you’re intending. It nearly makes you scrunch your face up in cringe, feeling a familiar glow in your cheeks.

You don’t, only because when Steve nods, teeth scraping his bottom lip for a moment and eyes wandering over your face, he looks a little lovestruck. Like he can’t believe you’re real.

His other hand comes up, both his palms resting on your shoulders and he trails them down your arms lightly, soft touches, til both your hands are in his.

“Come show me out in the sunlight?” He asks, cocking his head back out to the pool. His hands tug you ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but oblige, letting him pull you out, barely holding back your smile as he does.

There’s just something about when he touches you. Steve Harrington is a man all about touch and you’ve been going crazy finding out just how touchy he can get when you’re the one in his heart.

You amble out onto the tiles behind him and squint just a bit at the change in lighting, the bright rays of midday casting down onto the backyard. It’s mildly warm out, balmy, and with just a hint of a breeze that ruffles your shirt for a moment. 

Steve’s feet move nimbly to suddenly redirect you both — walking you both against the side of the house, til your back presses against the wall. You’re just out of view of the sliding doors, and you’d be foolish to think it’s not by design. Come show me out in the sunlight? His words echo in your head, inciting a familiar warmth in your cheeks.

“Steve—?”

“I’m gonna kiss you now if that’s okay,” He breathes, voice suddenly a lot heavier than it had been inside. Like it might actually ache inside if he doesn’t get his lips against your skin — like perhaps your lips held the antidote to a poison that was making his blood sing for your touch.

One of his hands releases your own to travel up, curling along your jaw, fingertips sliding into your hair. His eyes are still drinking in every detail of your face, affection mixed with something darker conveyed across his features.

His fingers caress along your scalp, thumb along your neck, tantalizing touches that you’re sure he’s not even aware he’s doing. But still, he doesn’t kiss you, waiting for a yes. God, he’s sweet.

Especially considering the answer is a huge fat unanimous yes.

It’s been a yes since the moment you saw him today. It’s been a thousand yes’ piling up in the weeks of seeing him, building up from the first time you kissed him and somehow bit his lip and he had only laughed and soothed it against your own.

Your yes has been growing inside you, the desire to kiss him like you mean it and leave him pink in the face and pretty.

It only takes one tiny please falling off your lips for Steve to close the gap, his lips brushing against yours. He kisses you, gentle for a moment - til a hunger overtakes and the kisses quickly turn hot and fast.

There’s urgency coiled up beneath your skin and it bursts to the surface at his kiss, the feeling you’ve been desperately craving. Steve gives you what you want gladly.

His grip in your hair tightens slightly, his kiss turning a little more fierce, and you keen and eagerly return it. His other hand has found your waist, startling a small gasp out of you when his warm palm covers your hip and bring you closer. His lips break away, just enough to take in some air and let you breath a moment, then he dives back in.

Kissing Steve, you’re quickly learning, is pure delirium.

His lips are soft and greedy and he steals kisses as quick as you can give them. There’s a quiet hum in the back of his throat, borderline a groan — and when you remember your hands, moving them from awkwardly hovering at your side to cup his face, fingers delving into his hair, the groan breaks free.

“You,” He pauses his attack of affection, lips still an inch from yours. Your eyes blink open, not aware of when they had closed. Steve’s scanning your face, looking for something, lips already pinker from your kisses. “You good? Not too much f’you?”

Your heart pounds a little faster at his care. His attentive gaze tracks your emotions to make sure he hasn’t pushed you too far, that you’re not overwhelmed by the affection. He’s so fucking nice.

You are overwhelmed, just a bit. It’s impossible not to when Steve kisses the way he does; so sweet, and like he envies anything that’s ever touched your lips. It’s pure passion, in a way you can’t even begin to describe.

The heat under your skin burns hotter. The places he touches you — his fingers in your hair, his hand on your waist, the press of his body against yours — all glow gloriously warm. Steve looks so stupidly hot, you nearly want to whine aloud about how unfair it is.

His chest is heaving a bit, a flush up his neck, his hair tousled from your grip on it. In the buttery sunlight, he’s golden and the same moles you had been staring at not 10 minutes ago look even more divine this close. You want to kiss each one, connect them with a press of your lips, and leave little marks of your own.

You want to devour him; you start and answer his question, with another kiss.

Steve’s surprise is only shown in his parted lips, a small gasp swallowed in the kiss, and you take it as an invitation, a hot swipe of your tongue across his lower lip. You take it between your own, a ghost of a nibble that makes him shudder delightfully beneath you.

Steve kisses back fervently and just when you think you’ve got the rhythm, sighing into his mouth, he pulls back. You make a noise of dissatisfaction and he chuckles lowly at it.

You don’t even get a moment to ask what’s wrong, your eyes still comfortably closed as Steve stays close, pressing his forehead down against yours. In a raspy whisper, just for you, he says, “Be mine?”

Your eyes fly open at that, some pocket of air whooshing out your lungs. He’s watching you intently, caramel eyes that give away his nervousness even if his voice hadn’t wavered. This close, you can see a smattering of freckles that dot his nose and you swear, inside your chest, your heart just sighs. He’s so pretty it hurts.

You’ve only been awed silence for a few seconds before his nose nudges yours, hand on your waist pulling you even closer. Before you can find your words, he asks it again— in between peppering soft kisses up the side of your face. “Be mine, please?”

“You- You wanna be my boyfriend?” You ask, not meaning to sound so disbelieving.

A nervous laugh titters out as you lean in closer instinctively. Your heart feels as though it’s going to beat out of your chest, as wild as a hummingbird’s wings, and it makes you grin— your lips curl up involuntarily, completely unable to help the way you beam.

“Of course,” Steve laughs lightly, nuzzling his nose against yours. Then, because he seems to have a pattern of being awfully repetitive today, his voice turns softer, all sincere when he whispers, “Of course.”

Damn him. Every time you think you’re close to settling those butterflies, to biting back the nerves that make your spine tingle, he swoops in and one-ups himself — does or says something else stupidly romantic so that all you can is grin like a dope.

You’re not proud of the giddy little noise that slips out of you when you nod excitedly, cheeks already starting to ache from how wide your grin is. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to stop smiling enough to kiss him again but Steve doesn’t bother waiting. The next kiss is a bit fumbled, both of you smiling too much to properly kiss but one or two more softens your smiles.

You kiss him hard, remember your hands and tug him close, closer, he’s not close enough — a pleased hum comes from your boyfriend’s throat and even the word in your mind makes you smile too much to keep kissing him.

A sharp rap against the sliding doors makes you whip your head to the side, both you and Steve looking perfectly guilty of being caught in your makeout. Slightly swollen lips, bitten and pink, on the both of you, not to mention the close proximity of the pair of you pressed against the house.

“Ahem,” Robin clears her throat from where she stands, out from the doorway since she had come looking for you. “Guests are arriving if you’d cared to notice.”

Part of you droops, entirely fixated on stealing a thousand kisses from Steve and maybe leaving a few marks of your own. His disappointed huff, barely audible, lets you know Steve is well on the same page as you.

Extracting yourself from his arms, you press him back with your fingertips planted in the middle of his chest. Steve turns back to you, groans aloud like he’s about to complain, and it just furthers your smile into a smirk.

“Plenty of time for that later,” You say, still sounding too giddy to come out as confident as you’re aiming for. Internally, some part of you sings, glad you’re finally confident enough in yourself that you verge from skittish nerves into playful teasing.

Your fingers on his chest twitch, walking up to the line of his collarbones and lingering on the base of his throat. Steve watches you closely, gaze a little hungrier than before, and then he huffs again, playfully slapping your hand away from his chest.

“Oh my god, I’ve created a monster!” He covers his face dramatically and throws his head back, egged on by the laughter that escapes you. The expanse of his throat is bared, hot tan skin that is begging to be littered with love bites. You take the thought and bookmark it, for later.

“C’mon then, boyfriend.” You say, just ‘cos you can. Steve grins. Your chest burns beautifully, in a way you never want to quench.

Besides, you can quell that hunger later. He is your boyfriend now, after all.