#but i’m just throwing ideas out there

[keferon]

………..OKAY listen I know this looks and sounds a bit weird but..like…just imagine ummm fantasy and medieval aesthetic but with robots? And like…there’s some kingdoms and wars….and knights, who’s supposed to fight evil.

And robo-demons and robo-dragons and robo-magic. You got the idea.

And in all this - Blurr is a knight who loves messing with questionable magic so one day he summons a demon. I mean. On purpose. To serve him and help him fight and stuff. He’s pretty good at forbidden dark magic and knows all he need to know to control this demon.

The thing he doesn’t know though - the creature he summoned was once a knight too. And much much more knowledgeable in dark magic than him~

Next ->

Tasty art

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。PLAN B — ALHAITHAM.

alhaitham has long resigned to the reality that as long as he’s dating you, there can never be an argument he can fully win with logic alone. all his life, his brain has carried him above men in the most impressive of ways, granted him effortless victories that he’s strategized in just a few quick seconds—except no matter how impressive, his brain is no match for your stubbornness.

one time, he even overhears the general mahamatra mumble, it seems like he’s met his match. to this day, the moment haunts him in his sleep sometimes.

but he figures cyno is right (though no one should ever tell him this) because otherwise, alhaitham, the akademiya’s scribe and current acting grand sage, would never be buying flowers and standing before you to apologize for something he didn’t even do.

well, he did—it’s just that he did in a dream, not reality.

“oh, has the cheater come back for my hand again?” you spit, crossing your arms and looking to the side with a hmph.

the universe must be having a field day with this show, he thinks, the show of alhaitham’s life taking complicated turns in places they simply do not have to. woefully, he’s sure kaveh is enjoying this, at least. otherwise the architect wouldn’t be sitting on the opposite couch and watching in pure glee.

“technically, i didn’t cheat,” alhaitham argues, “that was the alhaitham of your conjured imagination. the real alhaitham was peacefully sleeping until he was rudely pushed off of the mattress despite having work in a few hours—”

“i don’t speak to cheaters,” you huff.

alhaitham figures it’s now time to put plan b into action. plan b is as follows: to buy your favorite type of flowers and present them to you, all while dinner from your favorite restaurant sits on the table waiting. as soon as your eyes light up at the sight of the flowers, he’ll be able to skillfully sneak his way beside you on the couch, pull you close with one arm, and before you realize what he’s done, he’ll lead you to the dining table with your usual order waiting for you.

it’s a fool proof plan, he thinks—all plans of his have always had a ninety nine percent success rate, and this is no different. the only reason there’s not a one hundred percent success rate is solely and entirely due to the fact that he cannot plan for unforeseeable circumstances that occur last minute. these circumstances are beyond his control, but the small statistical chance of them occurring puts his mind at ease that in a few short minutes, all will be back to normal.

“these are for you,” he says, holding out the bouquet he bought—which was rather expensive, might he add.

and then, because the universe hates him, that one percent chance of an unforeseeable circumstance presents itself at the most inopportune of times.

“why is this one dead?” you raise a brow, pointing to the flower in the corner he failed to notice.

wonderful, he thinks. kaveh snorts, and alhaitham simply let’s his shoulders sag.

“well,” he starts, “i didn’t notice that one. forgive me—”

“just like you didn’t notice my presence while you cheated on me, huh? yeah, for the akademiya’s scribe, you sure do miss a lot,” you glare daggers at him.

“but i didn’t—”

“it’s your fault i dreamt that in the first place,” you hiss, “who’s plan allowed the people of sumeru to dream again?”

“yes,” kaveh adds from the corner, “do tell, alhaitham. who’s brilliant plan has lead to this situation?”

“certainly not yours,” alhaitham shoots back, crossing his arms as he raises a brow at the insufferable blonde, “if it were up to you to make the plans, we’d have quit before we even start.”

“don’t be rude to kaveh,” you scold, “kaveh would never cheat on me.”

“of course i wouldn’t,” kaveh agrees.

alhaitham pinches himself in hopes this is all his dream and he can wake up from this torturous nightmare.

“kaveh is behind on rent and acutely single. the only place kaveh could cheat on you is in his own dreams,” alhaitham argues, which earns an offended sound of indignation from his roommate.

“if this is your way of apologizing, it sucks,” you sulk, refusing to meet his eyes.

with a heavy sigh, alhaitham sets down the flowers and hesitantly—he does not wish to be shoved to the floor a second time in one day—settles beside you on the couch.

“i would never be unfaithful to you. i love you,” he says simply, but his voice is delicate, serious, like he means it. “i love you because you brighten each day, and make them far more tolerable by your side—even despite your occasional illogical fits of rage. and i will continue to love you even when i am the target of them.”

“seriously?” kaveh gapes in disbelief, “that’s your apology? are you trying to be broken up with—”

“really?” you ask, hopeful.

“of course,” alhaitham nods, and if the corner of his eyes shoot kaveh a smug look…well, only kaveh sees it.

“you’ve never cheated on me?” you narrow your eyes, searching for confirmation in his.

he grabs your hands, nodding. “never,” he assures.

“okay,” you nod, “as long as you’ve learned your lesson, i can look past the mistakes of the alhaitham of my dreams.”

“the alhaitham of your reality is so graciously thankful,” he says sarcastically.

you giggle. he smiles softly. kaveh rolls his eyes and walks to his room.

“well, alhaitham of my reality,” you hum, moving to cup his cheeks and lean in until your lips are just barely touching his, “i love you too. even despite how you infuriate me—including in my dreams.”

“it’s an unfortunate quality all potential versions of alhaitham come with,” he chuckles, and then his lips are pressed to yours firmly.

and you know, from this kiss alone, from the way he holds you like you’re the first bloom of spring after a harsh winter, that you’re the only one he has room for in his heart.

plan b had a few unexpected complications, but as always, alhaitham adds another successful attempt to his list.

this reader is so me-coded pls look away 😭

[arctic-bookclub]

in my opinion, qphil isolating and exiling himself is only going to make things worse or delay the inevitable: as shown yesterday the enderking wants qphil to isolate, to not tell anyone, and luckily for our evil demigod that is exactly how qphil operates. he holds secrets in hopes of not hurting others, not getting them involved. and we just saw what happens when he has a support network helping him, he broke free from enderking’s grasp even for a moment. but that bit is not the only reason why his isolation is playing straight into enderking’s hands: it’s his insecurities as well. ”i’m a shit dad” ”i need to prove myself worthy of protecting” ”i need to provide better for the family” ”i need to be stronger” - all insecurities that are qphil’s downfall. enderking has already played into his need to provide for the kids as well as the want to be stronger (the buffs in the dungeon), what’s stopping him from digging his claws further to qphil’s core, his insecurities and weaknesses now that he has no one to break him out of his self-deprecating loop? when all he has are his thoughts, the caws of a crow and the voice of him? if no one finds him in exile, i think he will lose himself again, betrayed by his own mind

[malmagmafr]

Emperor Coatl

Despite having changed from Imperial to Coatl, these dragons are still afflicted with their origin breed’s curse.

You will hear this monstrosity before you see it, as it sings the chorus of mythical sirens. Once lured into the lull of their song, your fate is sealed.

These dragons are exceptionally rare due to the method of their creation and escape the general knowledge of dragonkind, but a few explorers have backed up their claims of seeing this elusive beast by showing off the odd, tri-colored feathers they leave behind.

[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 confront 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?

[willbyersabyss]

I tried to decipher the entire video but this was the only part I was kinda confident about so

[cat-hybridcellbit]

Forever returning tomorrow means that he did not succeed in his quest to bring back the eggs, and I’m very interested to see what his mental state will be. Will he be depressed, completely unmotivated? Will he be angry at himself for failing, or angry at the Federation for once again leading him astray?

And how will he react to Cellbit’s current murder spree? In the past he was very against the mistreatment of the workers when BBH kidnapped but what about now? It would be a wild twist if Forever comes back hating the Federation as violently as Cellbit because they led him into hell with false promises.

[sarellathesphinx]

Hey did you guys know Reeve is the one who had to tell Elmyra and Marlene that Aerith died in the original game. I think about this constantly

[m-owo-n]

“I think,” Eddie declares, bursting into the room making his way to where Steve is laying on his bed. He’s relaxed against some pillows and has a magazine in his hands.

“Oh no” Steve blandly, flipping a page. Eddie flops on top of him, making the other yelp. Shuffling until he was comfortable, Steve holds the magazine up out of the way. He settles when he’s laying on Steve’s chest, chin perched on folded arms to look up at him.

“Rude” he huffs. “I think, that baby Byers has a crush on Gareth.”

That makes his boyfriend actually put down the magazine. “Your drummer?” He hums an affirmative. “He’s too old for Will!”

Protective Mama bear mode activated. Eddie laughs to himself. “Not to worry dear, Gareth has no interest. But it’s good news!”

“Will liking older men is not good news”

“He’s not that much older. And you say that like he hasn’t crushed on you” the magazine makes a return, rolled up to slap the top of Eddie’s head. “Ow.”

“Explain to me how this is a good thing.”

“It means he’s at least a little over Wheeler! He’s expanding his pallet. It’s a cause for celebration.”

“How did you even figure this out?”

“It was subtle,” he grins impishly “at first. A few glances during Hellfire Meetings, nothing to write home about. But the kiddos came to the garage to see us practice today.”

Steve sighs despairingly “And he was enchanted by the drummer”

A delighted laugh at his word choice springs from Eddies mouth. “Exactly that.”

“We should talk to him”

“We can. But don’t you want to see the baby gay in action before we do? It’d be so cute when it’s not so painful like how it was with mike”

“The sooner the better”

“Fiiiine”

[daincrediblegg]

[kuja-kujaku]

lmao I’m not even 32 yet and someone asked me when I’m going to start coloring my grey hair. never, actually, it’s a condition. it’s called Pretty Boy Disease and it’s terminal. it just gets worse as I get older, I just keep getting more and more grey hairs until I’m so hot people can’t stand to look at me. make sure it’s an open-casket funeral, don’t put me in the ground without getting a good eyeful bc I worked hard for these sultry little grey binches.

[itspileofgoodthings]

I love the rhyming on ttpd. can only think of two examples currently but I know there’s more.

[peachyymomo]

i shoulf make another rotumblr

[bbq-potato-chip]

does anyone else think that link is so short because getting the master sword at such a young age stunted him or is it just me

[sparky-is-spiders]

Normally meh about soulmate aus but I think a Jonsasha au where they aren’t originally each other’s soulmates until they both start becoming the Archivist. They make themselves the other’s soulmate without even meaning to. There is no one else who could understand them. Soulmates because they are two halves of one monster. The Archivist is only complete when they work together. When they become one mind in two bodies. By the time the world ends their soulmate marks have already been warped beyond anything that could be understood as a soulmate mark by most.

[redrisingsun]

Aemond and Helaena in bed together after she has escaped a night with Aegon (“he was too drunk to even notice me, I only went for mother’s sake”) and she suddenly says “I have met them, you know”. Aemond hums because he’s sure she’ll explain in time, like she always does, but she doesn’t say anything else and when he glances over, she carefully takes his hand and presses it to her stomach and that’s how he finds out she’s pregnant with his babiesss <3