#idk what i’m supposed to do here

[clownstowns]

jinx is gonna be killing herself then ekko s gonna come up and be like no stop you can’t explode shit if ur dead and then she’s like oh shit u right and then they go blow shit up and wear matching crop tops

[theconfusedcolorofblue]

tw: character death and terribly drawn blood

they are honestly so doomed. (Well if I’m bored at 3 in the morning they are at least )

I imagine killer just holding him trying to get the bleeding to stop but he quite literally just has to sit there and watch color’s flame die out.

[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?

[sydneys-adamu]

puzzlepuppy fic masterlist :) 

organized by series! gif by @chefkids

stay with me wherever you go: carmen (emotionally balanced) and sydney (also emotionally balanced) are well equipped for long distance and handle it very very well and very very normally.

not.

travel lightly, but keep me in your back pocket, okay?: sydney gets an offer and carmy almost fumbles his chances. again.

write me like it’s your last time, I’ll read it like it’s my first: carmy and sydney are an ocean apart. naturally they start exchanging love letters.

heal me when I’m hurt, I don’t care how far you are: sydney’s injured while away, all the while wishing her damn boyfriend was still with her at the very least.

tell me my love is enough, yours is etched on my heart all the same: sydney finally comes back home, and carmen makes a choice (for him, a no brainer.)

in another world it’s still you: a montage of sydney and carmen choosing each other again, and again, and again. (AUs in no particular order!)

forever alive, forever forward: sydney needs someone, and carmy is the one who tries to save her. (sheridan road au)

the singing of a body (electric): carmy and sydney are linked, for better and for worse. (soulmate au)

burn down the disco: syd and carmy want each other, even when the world tells them they're not supposed to. (black mirror hang the dj au)

this heart, with all its changing hues: rewind in time, sydney and carmen meet at CIA. it's not an instant friendship. (culinary school au)

wind and water; cloud and fire (meet me where the roads connect): sydney and carmy meet. sydney sees carmy. carmy sees sydney. not particularly in that order. (soulmate au)

the last five years: carmy, sydney, and a love story told in reverse. (divorce au)

the law of threefold return: bored and unassuming, sydney accidentally casts a love spell on her business partner. (love spell au)

a yellow blue countenance: in which carmy's desperate and sydney can't die with a perpetual witness by her side. right?

it starts with a swipe: boy meets girl, girl hates boy, boy is colossally screwed. (dating app au)

if that would save you: sydney meets carmen not knowing what they share. nothing is easy from there. (heart transplant au)

there we two, content: carmy and sydney get a cat. he’s the love of their life. send tweet.

maybe this is just the next step: carmy, sydney and the adventures of cat parenting.

time with you is time well spent: a holiday montage with sydney, carmy, and their cat by their side.

miscellaneous: canon compliant silliness

time nor place, distance avails not: it's not sydney's *first* choice to take her ex to get his wisdom teeth taken out, but so is the irony of life. at least carmy makes it easy (nope).

ceaseless musing (my soul is where you stand): sydney's dad makes an assumption, so she asks her very good friend carmen for a small favor.

a curious token (would the talkers be talking?): sydney and carmy's lover's quarrel through richie's eyes. maybe he helps, maybe he doesn't.

of cities fill’d with the foolish: mom and dad (sydney and carmy) aren't on the same page. at all. naturally this leads to an appointment with a couple's counselor.

an unknown want (the word of the sweetest song): the ever ambitious sydney asks carmy if he can teach her to draw.

as I ebb’d with the ocean of life: two airheads figure out what they are to each other. (post s3 tales to be told)

the long calm, the darkness, the swell: outside ever, carmy and sydney have the conversation they've both been avoiding. one conversation paves the path for more. and more. (post s3 fix it of sorts)

late in the autumn day: time passes. sydney and carmen have shit to figure out. and moves to make.

[nuppu-nuppu]

Ignore if you don’t want to read about me being stupid once again

[uchiha-gaeshi]

I would never wish growing up in a hyper religious African house on my worst enemy. The cognitive dissonance is insane especially if you grow up in the West yet your family (and other African families around you) insist on clinging on to asinine “traditions” that are really just covers for abuse.

[charmac]

x

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[courfeyracs-swordcane]

You are a seventeen year old lesbian. You ran away from home and are lying about every aspect of yourself in order to work your way up the ranks of the war crime factory, and it’s working— you got promoted to work directly under the citystate governor as personal security for him and his family. And now you have a crush on his wife. (would that be fucked up or what?)

[nightcorecarseatheadrest]

I’m only looking at ur titties rn

[hobbithoes]

Gonna start posting again soon fr , it’s just hard to manage my time , venting in the tags incomingggg ✈️

[idsb]

Good thing she dgaf what you think

Wow and here I thought she was reading my blog and structuring her every decision around what I posted

[saturnvs]

i love polaris …. i need to get creative and do more with her

[dykeredhood]

It’s so normal for me to want my gender to be obedient lil toy soldier that lives in a dollhouse

I don’t have any weird feelings about agency/agency that I’m technically allowed to exercise while not making anyone angry with me

It’d be great to be loved on and cherished and comforted if (technically “when”) I’m sad but that’s just not in the cards for me

The catch is that I just don’t consider myself to be a real person that has emotions and wants and needs and everything else; I’m just too accustomed to being someone else’s (LITERAL) useful body to have around to help out with things. What I have is my sense of duty and I guess whatever the hell I can do physically with my body since I’m apparently here to be a useful body

[cursezoroark]

the stark realization that I almost completely caught up w all rebornverse games haunts me I’m now afraid to pursue the renegade arc because What Do I Do Now.

[danielnelsen]

there’s so much i wanna do this week/month/etc but i’m just too sick, i have no energy, i can’t sleep, i’m constantly nauseous and headachey and on the verge of a migraine, i’m stressed and irritable and impatient and panicky…….how tf did i survive nearly 5 years of high school untreated if i can’t even manage this when i don’t have any major obligations rn