How's it feel to be on the other end of it Fuyuhiko

Gallagher x Reader; The Devil in Disguise

Pairings; Reader x Gallagher

Warnings; HUGE SPOILERS FOR THE 2.1 QUEST, also this isn’t canon, in other words the way they implied stuff at the end may be there to throw us off, this is a “what if”, if what was implied is true. Death mention, secrets, suspicions, already established relationship between the two

Creek

You glanced up to see a slightly tired Gallagher enter the room, noticing he looked slightly disheveled, on top of that he was a bit late.

“Gallagher? Are you okay, why are you so messy, didn’t you say you were having a meeting in regards to your job?” You headed over to him to help remove his vest and accessories, suddenly he grabbed your hand a bit frantically but nonetheless gave you a smile,

“I’m fine hon, just a bit of trouble on the way here, some hooligans on the streets were a bit to drunk,” he chuckled, and once again smiled, except it didn’t reach his eyes.

You knew something was up for a few days now, despite the fact that he kept his calm demeanour and relaxed behaviour, you knew something was up, and well it made sense. He explained to you that “Death” was among the dreamers and that a stowaway and the famous singer Robin, had been killed, thus he asked if you could simply stay inside. You knew he was working off the clock to figure out who could be behind it, but even so there was something…off…

You have known him for years now. How he approached you on the streets complementing you and serving you a drink, he wasn’t a bartender then, but he was exceptionally good. You eventually figured out his ties to the bloodhound family, which you didn’t mind but you found it odd how many of his coworkers never recognised him, to which he told you he simply did most of the work in the shadows.

Even with your suspicions you chalked it up to him being exhausted and him trying to prevent “Death” from taking any more people, so you simply kissed his cheek and told him you would prepare dinner, as well as the fact that he should go shower, to which he said he would as he headed for the bathroom.

Once he was in he closed the door and sighed. “Almost got caught,” he thought as he looked down at the inside of his vest and gloves, covered in the goo. He used them to cover up the remains of Sunday but he was also careful you wouldn’t find any of it on him and question him. He sighed again upon thinking of the events that had occurred before.

So what if he killed two prominent members of the family? The family, the supposed family that was open to peace and harmony, the family that had took away so much from many, the family that outed Mikhail as a traitor…Mikhail.

He would be lying to say he was doing all of this solely for Mikhail, but that didn’t mean that wasn’t one of his motives. Guilt eventually came at him for betraying his old companion, and then anger seeped in when figuring out that the family wasn’t all so innocent either. Naturally before he could strike he needed a good alias, and that’s where you came in.

He knew once a killer was a front, people would be less likely to suspect someone who not only was high in terms of security but also someone who had a lover, after all why risk their lover’s security when he planned to kill right? He knew you were the right one when meeting you, he complimented your looks to start small talk, not that he didn’t think you weren’t pretty, you were gorgeous. Then he kept meeting up with you and eventually you agreed to be his lover. At first everything was going according to plan, at least that’s what he thought.

He was using you from the beginning and yet, he grew fond of you, he truly cared about you and knew what he was doing could put you at risk, yet he was to far in deep to turn around and prioritised his plan above all. He wanted to break things off to protect you but at the same time, he couldn’t do it, and he didn’t know why.

He knew he wasn’t a good person, and knew you would be better off if you both were not together, but still. He didn’t know if it was love or simply respect, or anything in between but he truly did want to stay with you.

But it’s fine, all he has to do is to carry out the remaining tasks and finish his plan while also protecting you, and continue being a “minion”, of the enigmata without you knowing. All he has to do was continue to keep up his facade without any suspicion, all he ha-

“Gallagher, honey?” Your voice interrupted his inner monologue, wow he was actually getting into this anti hero role wasn’t he? “Are you okay? Do you need me to come in? You’ve been in there for a while and I didn’t hear any shower, just some mumbling…”

“Don’t worry! I was just zoning out, I’ll be out in a moment love, just give me some time,” he replied almost immediately. After hearing your footsteps leave he cleaned what he could of his clothing and took a nice shower before changing and coming outside to you setting the food on the table. “It’s fine, it will be over soon,” he thought as he headed to the table. Even if it ends with deception, he just needs to be secretive just a tad bit longer and everything will be okay…

“A complete Gallagher,” he recalled Sundays words, yes, he would just have to continue on and be nothing but a Gallagher to his “beloved,” if not for your sake, then for his own.

Once again nothing is canon, just my personal interpretation of him and his lover at the end of the quests, I hope you enjoyed this fic!

A digital comic zine I made, about things I wish I felt sooner.

seen a lot of this genre of tfa fuckery so im tossing some on the pile myself

🍓strawberry🍰 sweet 🍮 sensation🌀

It is not okay to speculate whether or not someone is suicidal. If they claim to be, you should 100% take that shit seriously and give them the benefit of the doubt.

That said, if someone is using their own suicidality as a weapon to gain sympathy, emotionally manipulate someone, or to push other people down, GENUINELY fuck that person. While it's not okay for us to doubt that statement just because they're weaponizing it, that also doesn't mean we need to ALLOW that manipulation to convince us of something.

If you feel the need to use your terrible mental health as a step-stool in a conversation to make your side more heard than the other, you need to take a step back and re-evaluate yourself. And I am saying this as someone who ALSO has shit mental health and has been in the trenches with it before. I get it. I understand. But also STOP.

It's tempting to want to save your own ass over recognizing where you've gone wrong, but just a word of advise: recognizing where you've gone wrong WILL save your ass and give you better mental health and wisdom down the line.

However, emotionally manipulating people absolutely will not.

The Narrator's relationship with Stanley makes me feel so fucking insane. Like what do you mean they desperately need each other to the point where the Narrator has a complete mental collapse without him. What do you mean the Narrator becomes infuriated when he realizes you're the player and not Stanley. What do you mean they hate each other and try to kill each other with knives and yet they're inextricably tied together. What do you mean the Narrator took Stanley to a world of swirling rainbow colors and it's the only place he ever straight-up says he feels happy. What do you mean the Narrator explodes him with a nuke. What do you mean they're the same person and yet nothing alike. What do you mean the Narrator was looking up "stanley kissing" on his computer canonically. What do you mean the Narrator constantly projects his derealization onto Stanley. What do you mean the Narrator wants to watch Stanley suffer while simultaneously just wnating him to get his happy ending. What do you mean the Narrator wanted them to be happy in the Zen room forever only for Stanley to literally commit suicide to get out of it. What do you mean Stanley is a black box without the Narrator and the Narrator is purposeless without Stanley. What do you mean "Can't you see? Can't you see how much they need one another?" What do you mean the Zending and Countdown ending can be read as two sides of the same coin. What do you mean the Narrator created Stanley out of a need for companionship. What do you mean they hate each other and need each other and want to control each other and destroy each other and they're perfectly designed to torment each other and yet they only have each other in this infinite loop and just want to be free. What do you mean the Escape Pod could only ever be activated with both Stanley and the Narrator there and yet the only way to get to the Escape Pod hall is to trap the Narrator. What do you mean the Narrator sounds like he's about to cry when Stanley won't respond to him in the Not Stanley ending and when Stanley's continuously jumping off the staircase in the Zending and he sounds so relieved and happy when Stanley returns from the two week skip. What do you MEAN the Narrator needs Stanley to hear his voice in order to feel real. What do you MEAN the background music to the place where the Narrator keeps his treasured memories is LITERALLY a song that addresses the listener as "MY LOVE." Like what do you fucking MEAN the Narrator LITERALLY went insane because Stanley couldn't hear his voice and he still waited ACTUAL fucking ETERNITY for him to just return. Who packed this much homosexuality into one omniscient voice and who is letting them get away with it

i keep you right next to me 🫶🏻 only just in my dream... ☹️

i'm sorry but i’ve got to say that it’s very delicious to me that killian donnelly glowed up from being a scrawny twinky raoul to being a kinda lil bit chunky daddy phantom… hot

that waist…. that chin…those cheeks… yummy 🤤

this is the only twewy fanart ive made in months

if i ever do end up writing a horror novel of some kind, it's gonna at least include (if not center) the idea of a human body stuck inside a machine of some kind.

i'm not a big fan of when the horror is acting out of malice or resent. i think i much prefer the horror of being taken apart by something cold and uncaring, an inanimate object that you just happen to be stuck inside of. gears crushing your bones not because they hate you, but because all they know is how to turn, and you just happen to be stuck between them. your body, torn apart and twisted by something that never even knew you were there.

chris saying he’s pissed on loop because I’ll never be over it in a million years. (context: he said this because it’s been two and a half years since they’ve toured and he said it’s too much and basically he hated not touring.)

The suicide

There will not be a star left in the night. There will be no night left. I will die and with me the sum of the intolerable universe. I will erase the pyramids, the medals, the continents and the faces. I will erase the accumulation of the past. I will make dust of history, dust the dust. I am looking at the last west. I hear the last bird...

By The Time I Knew I Truly Loved You

Pairing: Steven Adler/Reader Word Count: 800~

Info: No Smut, Fluff, Happy Ending, Emotional, Mentioned Drug Use, Post-Stroke, /reader in a way that you can imagine just about anyone as the narrator its VERY vague

Summary: The month I knew I truly loved you was cold. It was 1996, sometime around October, but after the stroke, every day seemed to blend together. I begged with God, pleaded that you'd wake up and remember how to live; to function.

Authors Note: another old one from ao3 because i have a bunch of shit i never reposted!! this was the first gnr fic i posted so yay for that, hope it isnt TOO corny

The month I knew I truly loved you was cold. It was 1996, sometime around October, but after the stroke, every day seemed to blend together. I begged with God, pleaded that you'd wake up and remember how to live; to function. I prayed that you'd remember to speak overnight. Everything was so hard now. We- you, communicated grunts and grumbles of vague words to which I would sob over in the middle of the night. We slept in different beds. Other people were always in our home because you needed caretakers, and yet I convinced myself to hold on. 

The week I knew I truly loved you was hectic. You were frantic for God knows what reason, clawing at floorboards and yourself. I watched your mop of hair get more and more matted day by day as you adamantly opposed brushing it. You smelled of musk, a smell I once relished and showered myself in by wearing your clothes while you 'recovered' in the hospital. We had five different caretakers quit that week, so I had to resort to begging in the newspaper. Eventually, I found someone new, but what would have happened if I hadn't? One day, I realized you wanted your stash. You still had something, left forgotten in the floorboards, and you were determined to find it even though you had no memory of where it may be. We had to rip our home apart, piece by piece, to make sure you didn't find that stash- if it even existed, and yet, I convinced myself to hold on. 

The day I knew I truly loved you, we had let the sunlight waste as we spent the whole day 'fighting', if you could even call it that. It was like arguing with a stubborn child, even though I knew you didn't mean to be childish. We sat at the dinner table; you at one end with a stack of blank notecards and a pen, me at the other with only my voice and frustrations. You had taken to writing so much better than you had to speaking. So far, this was the only way we had somewhat fluent conversations since the stroke. It was horrible. I missed the silly way you poorly serenaded me with love songs. I missed the joking debates we held together, arguing on why one superhero was wholeheartedly superior or something along those lines. I missed when I didn't have to monitor everything on the TV because your therapist told me anything could set you off into another relapse.  I missed when it was just us in the house with no needed caretakers, and yet, I convinced myself to hold on. 

The night I knew I truly loved you, I stormed away and sulked in what used to be our bed. You had knocked on the door at two in the morning. I groggily opened it to ogle at your disheveled form. You stood there; pajama pants barely hanging onto your skinny hips, a broken hairbrush outstretched in your hands, hair tangled to your ears with another restless night, and a quivering lip paired with the glossiest eyes I had ever seen. My eyes had pricked with tears when I saw you, really saw how scared, lost, and small you were. I spoke not a word, simply let you crawl into our bed. I needed no more convincing, I chose to hold on and never let go for as long as I could. 

The moment I knew I truly loved you, I had just finished brushing out every knot and tangle from your mane as you sat between my legs. You turned toward me and stared for a couple of minutes before beginning to climb out of bed, but I stopped you. I needed you. You needed me. So, I simply held you. I held you for hours. Then, with as much force as you could muster you muttered three words that changed me. 

"I love you." 

The moment after I knew I truly loved you, I shrieked and sobbed so loud I swore the neighborhood shook. I tried to steady myself with the burst of pure joy that overwhelmed me, but I was over the moon. I wept and wept as I held your head to my chest and repeated how much I loved you, too. Those were the first words you spoke to me for months. Finally, you pulled away and I was met with your beautiful smile. It was so different, though. It was no longer a smile that showed for when you got your high, it was a show of love and gratitude. God, I was so lucky to have held on.

Worst part of working at Fazbear Ent.? Definitely the customer service parts.

Second worst part? Having to clean up after various mysterious "workplace accidents."

So if Hunter told Camila of what he use to deem the "Classic" training of Hell from the Coven, you think she would just give him a tight hug while wishing she could beat down Belos?

oh she so would. i think she would immediately adopt all the kids and want to beat up amity’s mom too