#this answer answers both i feel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marragurl · 2 months

Text

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?

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr gallagher #hsr sunday #galladay #idk what I’m doing anymore #they’ve kinda taken over my mind #shoutout to that one ao3 fic where both of them go “’this wasn’t supposed to happen’ as they’re making out #that’s the exact vibes I’m feeling when I think about these two pre-relationship #of course we don’t run away from angst in this ship #everything follows exactly up until the 2.1 end credits scene #let’s see what happens in 2.2 #I NEED ANSWERS #ALSO MISHA #I WANNA THROW GALLAGHER AND MISHA’S KINDA WHOLESOME RELATIONSHIP IN HERE TWO #idk wtf is going on there #but until 2.2 explains #Gallagher is misha’s weird drunk uncle/dad figure #it adds more comedy to Galladay whether Sunday knows of/can see Misha or not either way #oof new writing idea #next time #I need to work on tagging #this is just another post all on its own #marrapost

189 notes · View notes

divine-misfortune · 3 months

Note

perhaps 45 with omega/alpha, if that sounds interesting?

A kiss out of anger from this prompt list.

Btw toxic old man yaoi art by @aweisz if you even care (thank you so much)

Bracing himself only did so much. It didn’t stop him from choking on the wave of dry heat that assaulted him when he opened the door. Omega dutifully swallowed a mouthful of scalding cinder and gripped the doorknob a little tighter, eyes tracking the scorched path Alpha had paced along the length of his room. It would take several hours to polish his anger from the floorboards but he knew no amount of waxing and shining would remove the traces of ash from the wood. Just another scar.

Omega stepped over the threshold. Willingly entered the cage with the spitting, raging demon and closed the door behind him.

Alpha’s eyes were fixed on the floor, hunched over himself. His arms were folded behind his back, clasping his wrist in one hand while the other repeatedly curled in and out of a fist. Omega ran his tongue over the back of his teeth, finding himself subconsciously mimicking his posture with a well trained rigidity. Steel spined, shoulders squared, hands folded neatly. There was a practiced sense of pride that he couldn’t give up, even now, even when he should be curling in on himself in shame.

“Understand?” He interrupted, sparks sputtering from between his teeth. Restrained anger that Omega didn’t deserve the kindness of. “Where the fuck do you get off taking matters into your own hands like this? You have no right to speak on my behalf, to call me and my capability into question, no fucking right Meg!”

“Alpha,” Omega began without knowing where he was going. If there was even a point to opening his mouth he had yet to find it. He debated a step forward but his body refused to budge and carry him closer to the fire ghoul. “You have to understand-”

“I’m not questioning your capability,” he tried to start again, nails digging into his palm behind his back as he tried to gather himself. Beyond scattered, he found himself grasping blindly for the right wording - searching for the sincerity Alpha deserved but his shallow inhale left too much of a pregnant pause that Alpha took as a chance to continue spitting.

“Oh but you did, you did the second you breathed a word of retirement to clergy. They’re all looking at me differently, like I’m useless. You seem to think I can’t do my fucking job, so what is it?” The question comes out serrated, sharp and ripping through him. “What’s this really about?”

Alpha finally looked at him. Crimson eyes gone dull, the raging fire he’d fallen in love with had burned down to low embers and the guilt jabs him in the gut.

Smoke billowed from the corners of his snarl and Omega found himself grateful for the awful heat filling the room, like the judgmental fires of hell were finally catching up to him. He hoped he burned, at the hands of Alpha or unholy retribution. Perhaps it was a deserved punishment in the end, his unwelcomed overstepping finally leading him to the cliff's edge.

“I’m worried about you.”

Closer now, Omega noticed the twitch of discomfort in Alpha’s face as he stepped forward again. The way his body moved was jerky for a passing second like he was flinching from his own weight on his right leg. Another stab, higher, a knife between his ribs. Closer now, Alpha had never felt further away from him. Despite being in arms reach, there were miles between them.

“Worried about me? You're worried about me?”

“You can't expect me to just sit and watch you-”

“Be honest, this is about Terzo isn't it?”

“Alpha.”

“No, no. It makes sense, it makes a lot of fucking sense when you think about it.” He's close, close enough Omega can feel the heat of his shaky breathing. “You don't think I'm good enough to stand by him anymore, do you? Do I tarnish your humans shiny appearance? Shouldn't surprise me that his image matters more to you-”

“For the love of everything unholy. Alpha, no. Would you just listen to me?”

“Oh yes, yes, of course I should listen. Omega knows best.” He threw his hands up with a laugh of disbelief. Omega couldn't stop his face from screwing up in irritation. “I don't know why I’m wasting my breath here, it’s clear you don’t care about me or a word I say.”

The accusation knocked the wind from his sails, impeccable posture beginning to sag. First in the shoulders and then his arms fell back to his sides, hands curling into fists to hide the shake to them. Alpha scoffed as the quintessence ghoul opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t seem to find the words. Dismissive. He looked tired, years of being beaten into submission and pushing well past his limits taking their toll. Ice crept into his veins, a chilled numbness spreading from the tips of his fingers to his core - he couldn’t place if it was guilt or his own particular brand of rage.

Alpha began to stalk past him, floorboards squeaking shrilly under his step like nails on a chalkboard. He grit his teeth, jaw creaking in kind as he turned and grabbed the other ghoul by the arm. There came the beginnings of a growl but Omega knew it was all bark, that there would never have been a real bite behind it, so he pushed. He pushed Alpha the few steps backwards till his back hit the door too hard, and he’d apologize later, but he chased the nerve he’d managed to scrounge up.

His skin was scalding as Omega grabbed his face roughly, surging forward to mold his mouth to Alpha’s before he could bite off another sharp word. The fire ghoul made a choked off sound of surprise, head thumping against the wood. His lips were rough, overly worried raw by well filed fangs, and Omega ached somewhere in his ribs at the familiarity. Months, it had been months since he'd felt Alpha against him and he hadn’t realized how much he missed it. Missed him.

Tobacco and communion wine. Omega was sure Alpha had stolen it from the chapel and downed the bottle in an attempt to quell his anger but it hardly seemed to do the trick given where they found themselves.

He braced a hand against Omega’s broad chest, not exactly pushing him away, it felt like another vye for physical contact. A quiet admission of how much Alpha missed this all the same. One kiss hardly felt like enough to convey himself, but as he flicked his tongue over the seam of his lips and Alpha reluctantly let him in, it felt like a start. The best he could do so suddenly.

Slipping into his mouth, Alpha groaned lowly and leaned fully against the closed door, curling his fingers into the front of the other ghoul’s uniform to drag him all that much closer. Flames seemingly extinguished, the heat beneath his palms began to ebb back to a comfortable warmth and Omega let up a bit, opting to cradle his face instead of grab. Offer him a touch of tenderness, it was the least he could do.

That clever forked tongue forced past his teeth and sought to lick the soured ash from his mouth.

It was a moment he wished they could stay suspended in forever, reminiscent of their younger days where every spare moment they could steal together was passion fueled and driven by sparks. Alpha’s warm breath tickled against his cheek with every pleasured sigh, neither of them managing to quiet a single grateful sound.

He started to pull back, managing an inch before changing his mind. Pressing forward for another far more chaste kiss, hating the idea of it ever truly ending.

“Alpha…” The quintessence ghoul started, stroking a thumb over the cut of his cheek, eyes flicking from his spit shined lips to his almost glassy eyes. They refocused a bit more with every sluggish blink. “Alpha, love, I’ve never doubted you or your ability to perform for a minute, but I worry about how hard you push yourself.”

He found himself frowning despite the previous giddy flutter of his heart.

“You might be immortal, but your vessel is not.” Omega smoothed his hands down Alpha’s front, pausing over his chest to just feel his pulse and the labored breaths he took. “You’re not a young ghoul anymore, and I know you don’t want to admit it…So I admitted it for you. I know it wasn’t my place but I couldn’t sit and watch you work yourself to the bone.”

“Megs,” Alpha sighed, brow furrowing. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Because I know you, and I know you’d never go quietly.” He chuckled though there was no real humor there, tinged by something sad. “We only have so much time left on the surface, and the idea of not spending the rest of it with you at my side is agonizing. I just wanted you to come back to me and not worry about you leaving again, always coming back in worse shape than you left in…You’re making me go gray from all the worrying I have to do.”

It was Alpha’s turn to laugh. A sort of snort, actually amused unlike his previous attempt. Omega tipped his forehead against his, wanting to melt into him and his comforting warmth.

“I’m sorry, my light. I would never do something like this to slight you, you know that, right?”

“...Yeah, yeah I do.”

#i did not proof read this oishdios #they love each other theyre both just stubborn and dont know how to talk abt their feelings #writing #answered #void writing #nameless ghouls #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #alpha/omega #alpha x omega #omega/alpha #omega x alpha #the band ghost #ghost the band #the band ghost ficlet

158 notes · View notes

carlyraejepsans · 1 year

Note

toriel... what are your toriel takes today

i have a headcanon that toriel has a hand-washing compulsion where she does it wayy more thoroughly than needed, instinctively trying to scrub under her claws even when they're perfectly clean because she can still feel the phantom of dirt under them from the time she dug chara's grave.

#one. two. three. four hundred years. it doesn't matter when you buried your child alone #i think she was your obvious standard ''my son just died'' distraught at first just out of shock. but from the moment asgore declared war?#she swallowed her grief and acted as cold and rationally as she could. organizing her leave. taking the body without being noticed.#finding the ruins. sealing them. and yes burying the body. i think she held it together perfectly during that sequence of events #but when she went to wash her hands after it was done and she couldn't get the dirt out. and she could FEEL it digging into her fingertips #but unable to get the sensation out no matter how furiously she scrubbed & dug under them THAT'S when she truly lost it for the first time #and had a full on mental breakdown over everything that happened in so little time #and that experience kinda sealed itself in her brain. both mentally and sensorially. ergo: compulsion #this goat is so fucking traumatized #answered asks #undertale #toriel

708 notes · View notes

maaxverstappen · 2 months

Note

Mandy… we must discuss max/oscar… what is the lore… what are the notes…. Im clocked in ma’am im ready to be deluded — wiz

ok so i called myself the unofficial head of this ship (lol) but actually looking through the tumblr tag i must denounce myself and crown @nyoomfruits instead bc she has been on it from day 1

max and oscar are just so similar i think they get each other!! they're both very down to earth and very focussed on the job. both of them hailed as extraordinary in lower formulas and quickly making their way up (ofc max's was very quick and oscar had his year out, but still all things considered). i feel like a lot of it is max being surprised about oscar, i dont think he expected that deadpan energy/serious but enjoying it/quick wit from him and now hes like oh i see, i get it. maybe also helps how much lando gets along with oscar and max obvs likes lando. trusts his opinion.

max praising oscar when he hardly ever praises anyone like this

oscar looking up at max with awe and eagerness (its a still from a video but let me have this)

this tho!!! max never sits on the floor but sees oscar doing it so joins him?! for no reason?! lando was in the chair it wouldve been so easy to sit next to him (as he then does later) "thank you mercedes" and then max's fond laugh and almost surprise. surprise that oscar can be witty like that!! max didnt expect it oscar turning around to watch the screen and being too late. max laughing at him, checking to see if lando is laughing too. if it isnt weird that max is laughing at oscar's joke/misfortune. max then doubling down and voicing what happened as if they didnt all just witness it right there.

like i said on the oscar discord too, i think oscar would indulge max's maxplaining!! he enables it and is like "Huh, I never thought about it like that. Have you considered that [x]" and then suddenly its 11pm and everyone else has left the paddock before they even look up from their convo

and

they would absolutely bicker over Everything but neither would really perceive it as bickering. thats just how they are

also they both have cat energy so

#anyway i have thoughts and this already feels very long so more of the “factual” (lol) stuff in the post and brainrot in the tags #i just think they would be really comfortable around each other #maybe not the passionpassionpassion that something like lestappen incurs but more a sense of safety and comfort. a safe harbour in the othe #if you will #genuinely really supportive and understanding. soft and wholesome. a lot of honesty too; both of them would just say it how it is #its showing up for each other and learning each others love language and cooking the other's home dishes to show they care #very much an acts of service/quality time over words of affirmation vibes #m answers #verstapstri #max/oscar #max #oscar

134 notes · View notes