#prison sal fisher

[baphmochii]

CW: NSFW (18+) // Sally Face (18+):

[ I need to respond to old asks in my inbox. I apologize deeply, please send me some asks to my inbox, I feel like writing smut or fluff with Sal ]

. . .

imagine having to be stuck in a room all alone with the infamous "Sally Face killer". just imagine Sal towering over your short figure whilst shoving you against the wall behind you, slowly lifting up your skirt with his large cuffed hands, feeling you up in the process. Sal managing to slip his hand inside your panties to play with your soaked cunt, his fingers are too big for your sopping little pussy to handle as he finger fucks you but you take it like a good girl. his good girl. Sal would also have you ride his fat cock like your life depended on it, he loves watching you bounce up and down on his cock, desperately chasing your release. you love when he pushes you off just so he can slam his cock back in your tiny cunt and in the missionary position too. you loved seeing his eyes lock with yours, wishing to also have locked lips with his, his prosthetic blocking the way sadly. Sal would literally beat your poor pussy up with his fat cock until he was shooting ropes of his hot sticky cum inside of your unprotected womb.

maybe, just maybe.. if you guys are up for round two, he'll cum down that little throat of yours too. his little treat for his special girl.

[killemwithkawaii]

🚫🥪

A scene redraw in honor of the Featherfall Studios dub of ch 5 coming out (Sals VA is canon btw)

[textless version under the cut]

🎤🙄💨

[absolutelybatty]

Salloween Day 7: Prison

[persephoneseye]

🖤🗝️Friendliness

Sal Fisher x fem reader PART ONE

Feel free to send requests (NO NSFW)

Your phone blared in your ear, informing you that it was time to wake up. You begrudgingly got up from your bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom to get ready. It had been a few months since you moved to Nockfell, and they weren’t anything special. You had spent most of your summer days locked in your room, mourning the loss of your childhood friends, school, and home. Today was the first day of your sophomore year at Nockfell High School, and you were definitely not excited. As you got ready, your chest filled with more and more dread of what was to come in the day ahead of you.

“Morning, sweet pea.” Your mother said with a bright smile. How was she always so chipper in the mornings? Must be all that coffee.

“Morning, Ma.” You replied sleepily, grabbing a cereal bar from the pantry. You didn’t exactly feel like talking, but you knew she’d figure something was wrong if you didn’t make conversation.

“Excited?” She asked curiously, taking a sip of her coffee.

You shook your head slowly, shoving the cereal bar into your mouth hungrily. Why should you be excited? It’s not like you’d make any friends on the first day.

“I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think.” She said softly, trying to comfort your anxiety.

You shrugged, walking back to your room to then slip on your shoes and grab your backpack. You walked to the front door and waved goodbye to your mom. You opened the door to instantly feel the cold morning air of Nockfell. You sighed and shut the door and began your commute to your new prison. As you approached the large brick building, plenty of kids were already looking at you. “Great…” You thought to yourself. “I’m already being judged.” You took a deep breath and opened the front door to the school, fishing out the paper you got at orientation out of your pocket. Luckily, they gave you your class locations and locker number before school started. “78…” You mumbled to yourself, looking at the paper while making your way down the hallway to try and find Locker 78. As you got closer, counting down the lockers 76, 77… and finally 78, you noticed a strange group of kids your age near your locker. In fact, they were RIGHT next to your locker, almost blocking it. There was a boy with ginger hair and glasses, a girl with long brown hair, a boy who also had long brown hair, and then…there was another. You didn’t really register anything more about the group of kids, why should you? You didn’t get a good look at the last one, they were short and kind of in the middle surrounded by the others. You opened your locker and set down your backpack to bring out your books when you heard whispering from the group.

“Isn’t that the new girl?” Said one.

“She looks nice.” Said another.

You decided to stop eavesdropping, their opinions didn’t matter. You were just trying to get through the day. You pulled out a massive stack of books from your backpack, trying to haul it into your locker. You failed miserably though, dropping them immediately with a loud BANG of the hardcovers.

“Here, let me help you!” A girl said as you kneeled to clean up your mess. You looked up for your eyes to meet hers. They were bright green, shielded by dark eyelashes. She looked down at your books and began to stack them. You immediately panicked.

“No, really it’s fine! You don’t need to help!” You stammered, trying to get the stranger to stop assisting you.

“I know I don’t need to, but I want to.” She replied matter-of-factly, smiling brightly at you while handing you your books. “I’m Ash.”

“…Y/N…” You mumbled, blushing from embarrassment. You didn’t want some random girl to pity your clumsiness.

“Nice to meet you!” She said cheerily, standing up to introduce you to her friends. “This is Todd,” She said, motioning to the redhaired boy with glasses, “Larry,” she continued, referring to the boy with long brown hair, “and that’s Sal!” She concluded, pointing at a…strange (to say the least) looking…boy?

The individual had olive skin, from at least what you could see from their hands and neck. They wore a long sleeved black shirt that was far too large for them, black ripped jeans, and red converse that were littered in doodles. Their wrists were adorned in handmade bracelets, spelling out various words like “punk”, “Sally Face”, and “BFFS”. Their hair was tied back into two electric blue pigtails, with short bangs covering their forehead. But the strangest thing…was their face. Or, what seemed to be a face from what it looked like. They wore a stark-white mask that covered their whole face, with little holes for their eyes and nostrils. You couldn’t tell what material it was made out of, but it looked fairly…medical? You decided to go with the assumption that it was just a strange fashion choice when a voice came from the off-putting mask. It was raspy and deep, yet timid. Okay, so it is a guy!

“Hello.” The boy said, blue eyes glimmering behind the mask. His voice had a tinge of kindness to it. Your eyes roamed over his masked face, taking in little details like scratches and parts where the paint was peeling.

“Yo, earth to new girl. You good, bro?” The boy with long brown hair said while waving his hand in front of your eyes. “Shoot…was I staring?” you thought to yourself.

“Huh? Oh, yeah I’m fine.” You replied, blinking a few times at the masked boy.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I gotta head to class. See you later guys!” Ash said as she bid farewell to the others, walking to a nearby classroom.

“Me too, I have robotics.” Todd added, leaving the three of you alone.

“What class do ya got, newbie?” Larry questioned, towering over you and looking down at the paper in your hands.

“Oh, I have Geometry. You?” You replied.

“Sick, us too!” He said excitedly, motioning to a door down the hall. “Follow me and Sal.”

You nodded, following them with a slight smile. They seemed…nice. Your anxieties slowly started to melt away with each step you took, feeling more confident in the day ahead of you. You were so wrapped up in these positive thoughts that you didn’t notice the blue-haired boy staring at you while you walked side-by-side.

“Y/N, right?” He asked.

“Huh?” You snapped back to reality, “Oh! Yeah, that’s me. Sal?”

“The one and only.”

You laughed, he seemed cute…and oddly intriguing.

He laughed himself, even if it was only a light chuckle.

You made your way to the classroom and stepped inside. The teacher was sitting at her desk, taking roll. On the whiteboard was written, “Welcome! Feel free to sit anywhere.”

“Wanna sit together?” Sal asked, looking at you and Larry.

You nodded.

“Duh.” Larry snorted.

You all found a group of seats where you sat next to Sal, and Larry sat behind you. You took out a notebook and began to doodle. Sal leaned over and watched you diligently.

“Ignoring us already?” Larry chuckled, looking over your shoulder.

“What? No! Sorry- I just-.”

“Don’t give her a hard time, man.” Sal said with a hint of frustration in his voice. He turned to you. “So, what do you like to do for fun, Miss Y/N?”

This was new. You hadn’t really introduced yourself to anyone in a long time. It took you a second to gather your thoughts. Who were you?

Okay PLEASE SEND REQUESTS!! I’m continuing this story with requests, so tell me who you’d like the reader to be and I’ll continue this!!!

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Cut Me, Hurt Me, Use Me [26.2]

Sal's Lore Part 3

------

TW: substance abuse/addiction, su!c!dal thoughts, and mentions of self harm

++++++++

Chains gripped him, held him down under a torrent of consistent, suffocating, and lethal waves of affliction. It was a plague that had been taking him over for decades now and he wondered how he hadn't become used to it after all this time.

Every time it started to get bad, he shattered under the weight of realizing 'again.' He was trapped again. A victim of his own torment. He tore himself down, stripped himself of dignity and of hope. 

This time, he didn't care where these abyssal waters dragged him.

Sal's rapidly deteriorating life was transforming into something monstrous and untamed. He no longer recognized himself when he looked into the mirror-- not that it mattered much in the first place. He hadn't recognized himself since he was five years old. 

He stared blankly at his ceiling. Counting the stained tiles and filing through arbitrary numbers and combinations in his head no longer aided as a distraction. The only savior in his life happened to be the one thing that would tear him down for good. 

When he tried it the first time, upped his daily dosage of anxiety medication to three pills rather than one, he was thrilled. Finally, a solution to his mental torture. He had fallen into a near drunken state, his head clouded with fog and for once, not so many worries captured him so devilishly. 

Since then, he had slipped into a hellish routine. Wake up in the late afternoon, take much more of his medication than he should have, then he'd nap for hours or dissociate beneath his duvet. What else could he do to occupy his miserable days? The woman who assaulted him was in prison, but she wouldn't remain there forever. She wouldn't be there for nearly long enough.

All Sal could do was painstakingly count down the days to her release-- when he was sober enough to do so, of course.

When he would regain a bit of his clarity come nightfall, when the moon and stars occupied his empty days, he would stream. It was never for long-- he couldn't bear to engage in something he couldn't find it in himself to love anymore. She had stripped him of the few things he had once adored.

His birthday was approaching. He would be twenty two. In his past years, he feared the fated day. What if everyone forgot about him? What if no one wished him a happy birthday? But this year, he didn't even consider that, nor did he care. So what if everyone forgot him? He was beginning to forget himself too.

Sal glanced to the side, the weight of his own head too much for him to carry with benzodiazepines coursing through his veins. His internal enemy had transformed into his friend-- the medication he cursed for so many years had become his safe haven. He beheld the bottle, wondering if he could turn the pills inside into an eternal bed for himself. He could rest. He could finally leave it all. 

All the elderly scholars claimed that Aphrodite had been the greatest temptation, but Sal had found a substance that topped the goddess in that department.

He didn't want to continue in a world where he wasn't even living. Why continue to suffer when everything could be silent forever? 

The monster that haunted Sal laughed at him, mocked him as it towered over his limp form on the bed. The wispy trails of its shadows slithered around Sal's body, only adding to the chains that stood out against the fresh cuts along his skin. Its wicked grin failed to strike fear in Sal's heart this time. He looked at the abomination he was destined to become and didn't cower. With each passing day, he assumed he wouldn't be alive long enough to see this empty shell of a creature he'd eventually turn into. The land-born leviathan that made his life into a laughing stock had nothing on him if he could end it before it began. 

Sal lazily glared at it-- at the imitation of himself-- while his hand stumbled around his dresser for the bottle of medication.

"Sal?" Three knocks sounded on his bedroom door, painfully echoing around the dark vignette of his drugged mind. The bottle clattered to the floor. "Wanna come out with me and Lisa for dinner tonight?"

It was his father. Sal bit down on his scarred, chapped lips as the hallucinations of his greatest fears, conjured up by his own mind, dissipated into nothingness. Gone like that, in the blink of an eye. He cursed the odds. How come he couldn't fight his own battles?

He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth, waiting for an excuse to come to him. "Not tonight, dad. I'm still feeling a little sick." He slurred, giving his father the usual excuse, claiming he was suffering with allergies.

A muffled, defeated sigh. Sal waited with bated breath for his father to leave. The sooner the better. He didn't want the man who raised him to see him like this. He didn't want anyone to see him this way, which is precisely why he only left the room in the dead of night and early hours of the morning.

"Son," the words were gentle, sad. "Talk to me, please. You've told me you're sick for months now. I know that's not it." 

Sal gulped over the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, cutting off his airways. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he stayed quiet.  

"Your friends say that they don't see you anymore. You don't answer their texts or calls. Hell, you don't even open your bedroom door for them." Henry's voice cracked, the sound causing Sal to launch into an upright position. His weak arms were barely able to catch his weight when the room began to spin around him.

Sal squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to clear his head, to right himself. His dad was outside his door, close to tears. He hadn't seen his father cry since the passing of his mother.

And his friends. Every day, without fail, they would try. Ash messaged him at least three times a day, called a couple times. Larry, Neil, and Todd would knock on his bedroom door to check in once or twice each. He would ignore them or give excuses every single time. He knew he was letting them down, but in this state, he didn't want to see them. He didn't want to see anyone.

"We have Gizmo at the apartment." Fuck, Gizmo. Sal's little man. After the first few days of falling into himself, Sal started asking Larry to take care of his cat in his stead. He didn't have the strength to look at his boy knowing that the feline could sense his downward spiral. "He's been with us for a few weeks now. He misses you. We all miss you."

Sal dropped his face into his hands, his fingers quaking with the revelation his father had bestowed upon him. Leaving his friends and family behind was already one thing, but the cat who saved him? He felt terrible. The monstrous version of himself was right for cackling at him. Sal was a pathetic excuse of a human.

"And I just want you to know that I love you. You're my boy, Sal. I adore every bit of you and I desperately wish I could hold you in my arms again the way I did the day you were born. With your little hands and feet." Henry took a deep, shuddering breath. "You know, I'm proud of you. You're talented at so many things. You're polite, you're strong, you're kind. Despite all the obstacles, you've... you've pushed through it and you've become a wonderful man. I'm proud of you, and I'm proud to call myself your father."

Sal felt a sob working up his throat, his heart pounding inside his chest. He gripped the front of his shirt in weak hands, squeezing the fabric as the pain of causing his father so much anguish became too much to bear. 

Hot tears slipped down his cheeks and he sniffled, feeling attacked by the onslaught of guilt, of fear, of regret. He thought he had conquered these emotions, finally beaten them. It created a hole in his heart, forced a deep ache to surface in his chest. Everything his medicine was meant to do failed on him now as harsh pants wracked his body, his thoughts on a rampage and his body suffering the consequences of the abuse he put himself through. 

"Sal," his father's voice was a bit frantic now. Sal knew he could hear the breakdown he was tumbling into. "Please, buddy. Let's talk. Let me help you."

Sal rushed to stand, his legs too tired to support him. He stumbled to the wall, another agonized sob breaking past the barriers he thought he'd built up. His hands trembled against the white wallpaper and he used it to guide himself to his awaiting father. He needed to get to him, tell him he was sorry. Tell him he loved him, beg his father to forgive him.

He gasped for breath, his chest so tight and his mind so muddled with negativity that he couldn't take a full breath. He was slowly slipping beneath the waves, barely able to keep his head above water.

Sal didn't let the terror of leaving his emotions bare to his father stop him when his quivering hand finally wrapped around his doorknob, unlocking it the moment he realized he'd had it locked for two days now.

He ripped the door open, the wood slamming against his bedroom door viciously.

Henry stood past the threshold, his eyes red-rimmed and a lone tear running down his flushed cheek. Sal was sure he looked much worse than his father, especially when Henry's gaze softened into something somber, something far more heartbreaking than the word 'sad' could truly encompass.

Sal launched at his father, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing. Henry rubbed his hands up and down Sal's back, trying to soothe him, comfort him in the only way he possibly could.

"I'm sorry," Sal cried, his tears wetting the front of his father's shirt, his shame leaking onto the solidity Henry brought him. "I'm so sorry."

The grief that overtook both Sal and his father weighed even more than the after effects of the drugs he had been abusing for so long. Burdened them more than the depression and pain that Sal had been suffocating with all this time. All of his problems were sharp pins and he was the voodoo doll. It all came back to drown him-- and now it was drowning the people he cared about most.

Sal spilled everything the moment he and Henry sank to the floor. He relived the exact moment he confessed what had happened to Ash just a few months ago. Once was enough, but twice couldn't be a coincidence. 

How many times was Sal going to blame his bad luck before he could finally see that he was the one tearing himself apart now?

On the floor, a heaping, sobbing mess before his father, Sal wondered how he'd be able to pick himself back up whenever his actions had thrown himself down this way. Henry tried to tell him he understood, that Sal was never to blame. That Sal never deserved all these things that happened to him. But Sal had resolved his mind to one thing-- falling apart in front of his father like this was something he never wanted to do again. Ignoring his friends and family, neglecting his Gizmo. They were all things he never, ever wanted to do again for as long as he lived. 

He didn't know if he'd get better, but the least he could do was try, right?

With Sal's permission and a conversation with Lisa, Henry helped in admitting Sal into a rehabilitation clinic.

It was the scariest and most revitalizing thing Sal had ever done for himself. Even if he wasn't sure about what he wanted from life anymore, it at least showed that some deep, hidden part of himself wanted to live. Maybe not for himself, but for those around him, at least.

Sal made some friends during the weeks that he spent away from streaming and away from the temptation of tearing himself apart. The first week and a half was miserable. He had to learn to survive without the help of more drugs than he needed. The dosage of his anxiety medicine was lowered to better accompany his journey toward healing. Worst of all were the constant headaches and nausea of withdrawal. Part of him believed his attempts to improve were in vain, especially during the sleepless nights where, sometimes, he could hear that monster clawing at his barred windows.

But, then the headaches began to go away. He was able to eat more than just crackers and soup once a day. He felt like going outside, walking around the garden that his clinic had. And, damn, he felt like talking when he and his hall-mates would meet with a counselor to discuss their day and their thoughts. 

Not being alone in his darkness inspired him. And that was when the writing began.

Sal's pen flew across the blank sheet of paper he had taken from the lounge down his hall. It hadn't been the first time he'd done this-- the past week, he had filled up a full stack of paper with words that came from the darkness that had tainted him for all these years. 

This paper, though. This one mattered the most.

He hardly had to think, his gaze flying across the page and his pencil scratching against the paper. It just came so easily to him.

"Preserve my youth Through words I write-- Forbidden truths Soaked with venom in the night.

Enslaved to my pen, Chained in this cage; Ink stains on my skin For my friends beyond the page.

Blood soaked rose thorns And bones for my quill-- Trapped in beauty that adorns The violence of a kill--"

Sal blinked when the paper slipped out from beneath his pencil, no doubt leaving a long, graphite mark across the page. 

He whipped his head to the side, looking at his roommate who pursed his lips at the paper. Sal relaxed a bit upon seeing him. He may have been Sal's roommate, but he'd also quickly become a friend. Quite a curious friend, at that.

Sal didn't know much about him, but the man encouraged his healing habits. That seemed like reason enough to consider him a friend.

His friend picked up another paper that lied on Sal's small desk on his side of the room. He glanced over it, his lips quirking up in a little smile. A smile that made Sal suddenly grow nervous. Poetry wasn't new to him, but he hadn't realized he had such an affinity for it until he'd come to rehab. His counselor had instructed his group to write a poem about their healing journey a week ago and Sal realized he'd loved the escape that came with it. It was about as freeing as playing his guitar, but much more creative and meaningful than the mediocre poetry he'd written before this.

Sal snapped himself out of the memory when his friend began reading the words on the page he'd just picked up. 

"Look at what I've become-- My mother's careful knitting is undone. Sixty stitches and a price never paid, Might as well have sliced me with a blade.

All gaping wounds and pity, Disgust has never looked so pretty. My own disgust or theirs;  Or is it just hospital rooms and wheelchairs?"

Sal snatched the paper back before his friend could read anymore. This one was personal and he didn't want all of his internalized anguish out in the open.

"That's enough," he rasped, tone quiet. 

His friend frowned. "It's good stuff, Sal. Don't be ashamed." Sal took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way the man's smooth, captivating voice seemed to lull him into feeling false confidence. And still, his friend continued. "Why don't you like people reading your work? You didn't read yours during the meeting the other day."

"It's embarrassing," Sal grumbled. He could feel his cheeks burning up beneath his prosthetic. "Give me the other."

His friend raised a defiant eyebrow.

Sal rolled his eyes as anxiety gripped him whole. He gestured to the paper and, through gritted teeth, forced out, "Please."

His friend grinned at him. "I'll give it back under one condition."

Sal sighed, beginning to grow frustrated, but he heard his friend out.

"Whatever the issue is, whether you're just shy or if you don't want people to see the scary parts of yourself, your poetry's good. That's undeniable." His friend's grin softened into a reassuring smile. "I have a band back home. We're just starting out. Why don't you write music for us? It would give us an excuse to be friends after all this."

Sal's lips parted in surprise. Write music for a band? He hadn't considered giving his poetry to anyone.

Sal's voice was hoarse as he managed to say, "I-- I don't know..." His poetry was his. He felt possessive of it-- he couldn't possibly let anyone else express his mind, even if it were through sound, could he?

His friend shrugged, handing his poetry back to him. "Think about it," he said to Sal. "No one has to know you write the lyrics. Might be a good way to express yourself and heal, you know? Music has been healing for me. Maybe it can do the same for you."

The man gave Sal a gentle smiled then walked out of their shared room. Sal watched him leave with ideas swirling around his head. 

Recently, he had begun to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Eating properly, going out into the sun, admiring the sunset, reading literature and poetry, writing poetry again, making friends... it had all begun to mold into this infectious hope. Something he thought he would never, ever feel. And now this opportunity to write music for a band... he felt like he was standing at the door that let in all the hope that swelled within him. He just had to choose how he would walk through that door and if he would take the offer his friend extended to him.

The tides had turned. Maybe music could be an escape for him again.

He thought about his friends proposition, considered his options, thought about all the other things he could do in his life. He thought about his friends back home, thought about his streaming career, other projects he'd been working on before things started to go downhill.

He made his decision, but he'd talk to his friend about that later.

Until then, he'd scratch away on his paper, pull the last broken bits of him out of his body and splatter it against the page.

------

A/N:::::::: i know this lore chapter isn't long, but the next one while be a little lengthier!! :3 i also think the next one will be the last for sal's lore as well.

as always, i'd like to address the heavy hitting topics included in this chapter. we've explored sal's suicidal thoughts before, so the main focus here is his addiction to his medication. As many of you know, there's been an opioid and drug epidemic in the US that has been around for over a decade now. many doctors abuse the option for medicine and prescribe it when it is not needed, or they prescribe much more than needed. of course, many people do need their medicines-- i'm one of them. the issue lies in the possible effects not being explored nearly enough. opioids, OTC's, and prescription medication can be very addictive due to the job that they do to regulate our system. it creates something of a euphoria or an escape when taken in excess and that's where the addiction can begin. while i'm not knowledgable enough on the topic to say much more about it, it is something i'd like to raise awareness about. addiction is heartbreaking, life-altering, and crippling. my father fell victim to addiction-- to the same type of medication that i've had Sal take in this chapter. it broke my family apart and it broke my dad. witnessing him slowly falling apart and being away from him during his time in rehab has completely altered the trajectory of my life. seeing his tears as he finally came to understand what had happened to him is genuinely some of the worst pain i think i've ever felt. i'm very happy to say that my family has been back together for a few years now and Father Ryver is doing so much better, but i can't say the same for other victims of addiction, especially considering that my aunt is going through the same thing right now.

remember that you are NEVER alone. i see you, i hear you, i love you. addiction is no one's fault, nor is it something to feel guilty over. it's a horrible thing that can happen during attempts at healing or completely unplanned, but it isn't forever. pain is temporary, love is forever.

if needed, i did some research on international hotlines as well as some in the US:

USA - Emergency Substance Abuse Hotline: 1-800-662-4357 EUROPE - Samaritans: 116 123                      Give Us A Shout: text SHOUT to 85258 AUSTRALIA - Sane Helpline: 1800 187 263 CANADA - Wellness Together (for mental health and substance abuse): 1-866-585-0445 or text WELLNESS to 741741 SOUTH AFRICA - Narcotics Anonymous: 0861 00 6962 NEW ZEALAND - Alcohol and Drug Helpline: 0800 787 797 PHILIPPINES - Substance Abuse Helpline: 1550 INDIA - National Toll Free Helpline: 1800-11-0031

anyway, as always, all my love to you darlings! stay true to yourself and stay strong. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! have a lovely morning, day, evening, night <333

[that-damn-fouth-chaosemerald]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a Sal Fisher (Sally Face) x GN!Reader fic with fluff + angst (+ maybe a little yandere?) where Reader is Sal’s cellmate after he gets arrested?

Maybe with Reader trying to get him to open up + talk about why he’s here, what his life was like before, why he wears the mask, etc.

Feel free to do whatever you like with this request and have a nice day :)

—❢ー

×A/N×

Hi! Thank you for the request (I actually really appreciate it bc you guys the only reason why I go up and writing on tumblr! Lol Y'know, I can be a very lazy person...)!

I wrote this one-shot a little bit different than your request. Like he's not a yandere (or at least he doesn't show anything of the signs, but it has fluff, angst and other things. If you want, I can write you just for some Yandere! Sal Fisher :D

But only if you want it-)

I had fun with it while I wrote it, I hope you will enjoy too! ^^

×❢ About my work ❢×

fluff, angst, mention of Larry's death, mention of suicide, cursing, the reader is gender neutral, no proofread •-•, and I think that's all-

Fandom: Sally Face

Character(s): Sal Fisher, Larry Johnson (mentioned), Todd Morrison (mentioned), The Reader|You|(Y/N)

Ship(s): Sal Fisher x Reader

Type: One-shot

—❢—

𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭

(Sal Fisher x reader)

𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈: Bound 2 by Kanye West

“Bond to fall in love... ♡”

[Credit to the original artist!]

You almost fell as a strong guard firmly throwed you into the cell. They treated you like you were a wild animal.

" Asshole " you thought with an angry look on your face. You didn't want to say out loud, instead you gave to the guard a murderous look. But it seemed like he didn't care about it. He just walked away, letting you alone with your celmate. You looked at the stranger. He looked back at you.

"Hi!" you said with a friendly smile on your face. He reacted nothing. After that he continued what he was doing before: Sitting all alone on the bed and quietly looking down.

You felt awkard and maybe a little nervous. You weren't scared, you were far from that, he just had this feeling around himself what is made you feel weirdly comfortable. You stepped closer cautiously.

"I like your prosthetic!" He looked up at you, but still, he didn't show any reactions. But actually, he was really surprised that you knew this, and he didn't have to explain that it's not a mask. The prosthetic didn't show it, but his lips were apart from each other just a little, because of the surprise. He was still staring you, but no words left his mouth. It looked like he isn't a chatty person. Well, that's fine to you, if he doesn't want to talk, then you won't make him uncomfortable with it.

You walked to the other bed and sit down on it. It was awkardly silent in the cell. "Thanks." the stranger said it quietly. Deeply, you were surprised about he can talk, but you didn't show any of this. "Why are you locked in?" You invisibly facepalmed yourself. You just met a person in prison around 5 minutes ago, why are you asking personal questions already?

The prosthetic hid his voice very well, but you could still heard as he let out a sigh. "Because I saved people." he said without looking at you. You curiously, but still slowly sat down next to him.

"What from did you save them?" you tried to figure out his expressions, but you couldn't see anything.

"From the infestation of Red-Eyes." You looked at him with a confused look, but you didn't ask. "I couldn't save everyone, unfortunately. My best friend, Larry was one of the victims. After he didn't answer the phone, I started panicking and when I found him... All I could see that his body is hung down on a rope. I still remember how his lifeless eyes looking into mines. He was like a brother to me."

You could figure out of his tone that he really missed his friend. You put your hands on your mouth. He must feel terrible. He lost everything.

"I'm sorry" You spoke softly, not to scare him away. "I didn't know that you suffered this much." you said quietly with a sympathetic and understanding tone.

"I think Todd is suffering more, than me." he answered. He looked up at you and took some time with analyzing your face. You smiled back at him softly. You gently placed on his cold hand yours. He looked down at your hands and up at your face again. He squeezed your hands a bit.

He looked into your eyes. You didn't speak, but somehow you told him that it's okay and he can trust in you.

"You know (Y/N), I don't know how or why, but I feel like I can trust you." You gave him a kind smile, not thinking about how or from where he knows your name.

[dokitm-arch]

REVAMPED TAGS ... misc horror!

🦇 ' ⟪ ch. mondo oowada. ⟫ / shsl bike gang leader. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. celestia ludenberg. ⟫ / shsl gambler. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. chihiro fujisaki. ⟫ / shsl programmer. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. mukuro ikusaba. ⟫ / shsl soldier. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. mikan tsumiki. ⟫ / shsl health committee. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. fuyuhiko kuzuruyuu. ⟫ / shsl yakuza. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. hajime hinata. ⟫ / talentless nobody. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. kokichi ouma. ⟫ / shsl supreme leader. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. miu iruma. ⟫ / shsl inventor. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. shuichi saihara. ⟫ / shsl detective. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. ryoma hoshi. ⟫ / shsl tennis player. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. junko enoshima. ⟫ / the ultimate despair. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. steve burnside. ⟫ / carrier of veronica. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. ethan winters. ⟫ / molded father. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. rosemary winters. ⟫ / strong willed daughter. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. alcina dimitrescu. ⟫ / vampiric maiden. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. karl heisenberg. ⟫ / ironed hammerhead. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. donna beneviento. ⟫ / hallucinated doll. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. sal fisher. ⟫ / sally face. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. larry johnson. ⟫ / feel the metal music. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. mary (guertena). ⟫ / burned portrait. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. jou joe tazuna. ⟫ / gaudy sentimentalist. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. reko yabusame. ⟫ / punk lady. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. alice yabusame. ⟫ / raunchy prisoner. 🦇 ' ⟪ ch. gin ibushi. ⟫ / strange child.

[abominationchild]

        HENRY FISHER  ( 1956 — 1999 )                  sal’s  father,  the  man  who  cared  too  much  and  then  not  enough.    recovering  alcoholic.    married  to  diane  ricci  until  her  death  in  1984,  remarried  to  lisa  johnson  in  1996.    killed  by  sal  fisher  in  1999.         DIANE FISHER  ( 1956 — 1984 )                 sal’s  mother,  the  woman  who  sacrificed  herself  to  keep  her  baby  alive.    born  to  italian  immigrant  parents  as  diane  ricci.    married  to  henry  fisher  until  her  death  in  1984.    killed  by  the  devourers  of  god  in  1984.         SAL FISHER  ( 1976 — 2004 )                  the  sally  face  killer,  the  boy  who  did  everything  to  stop  the  end  of  the  world.    born  to  henry  and  diane  fisher  in  1976.    married  to  raven  aolani  while  in  prison  in  2001.    father  to  sally  fisher.    sentenced  to  death  by  electrocution  in  2004.    resurrected  by  raven  aolani  in  2004.         LISA JOHNSON-FISHER  ( 1956 — 1999 )                 sal’s  stepmother,  the  woman  who  loved  her  children  more  than  anything.    born  to  spanish  immigrant  parents  as  lisa  garcia.    married  to  jim  johnson  until  his  disappearance  in  1986,  remarried  to  henry  fisher  in  1996.    killed  by  sal  fisher  in  1999.         LARRY JOHNSON  ( 1975 — 1999 )                 sal’s  best  friend  and  stepbrother,  the  boy  that  always  listened  when  sal  needed  someone.    born  to  jim  and  lisa  johnson  in  1975.    died  via  suicide  in  1999.         RAVEN AOLANI-FISHER  ( 1977 — )                 sal’s  wife,  the  woman  that’s  there  for  him  no  matter  what.    born  in  1977.    married  to  sal  fisher  while  he  was  in  prison  in  2001.    mother  to  sally  fisher.    resurrected  sal  fisher  in  2004.         SALLY FISHER  ( 1999 — )                  sal’s  daughter,  the  girl  who  loves  him  unconditionally.    born  to  sal  and  raven  fisher  in  1999.         GIZMO  ( 1987 — )                   sal’s  cat,  the  emotional  support  animal.    given  to  sal  by  his  therapist  in  1987.    completely  spoiled  and  unlike  any  other  animal.         BINX  ( 1987 — )                   raven’s  cat,  the  familiar.

[locamocha483]

"You can't do this! He's sick; he needs help!"

It's been a long time since I've posted anything here but I figured I'd try again. The whole tumblr-apocalypse thing has made me weary on posting here or really using tumblr in general BUT HERE WE GOOOO

I saw art of Ghost Sal by @altcanvas and immediately fell in love with the concept! I tried my best to recreate the style in my paint job and i like how it turned out! Hope you don't mind me trying this out. Go check out their awesome art! They're super talented :D

[baphmochii]

Inmate Sal x f!reader ~ PenPal (HC's)

18+/CW: SFW with a dash of NSFW. PenPal turned Romantic. Reader is female and of age (adult).

°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

This is something I thought of and I'm hoping it doesn't turn out awful. I know that no one's perfect when it comes to writing anything but.. *exhale* here we go.

°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

✯ (How it Started): You're close friend had told you about inmate penpal's, they would read you their letters of what their penpal would write and it sparked an interest if you wanting to have a penpal.

✯ After getting set up and registering for a penpal, to your luck you manage to get Sal. It started off as (surprisingly) friendly back and forth conversation. It felt as if you were talking with an old friend you haven't seen in years, you would write Sal about your day, what you plans you had, college and other normie things. Sal would write to you about his day and what goes on in prison. (ex: riots, stabbings, etc.) The usual of what happens in a prison.

✯ You would eventually send Sal a photo of yourself after some time of talking and getting to know each other via letters, you slipped your photo in with the most recent letter you sent off to him. Once he got that letter and opened it, seeing your gorgeous face.. something changed in him.

✯ Sal was infatuated with you. Truth behold.. Sal was starting to gain feelings for you, strong romantic and sexual feelings. To admit, there were a few times Sal beat his cock silly to the photo of you, he felt shame afterwards, perverted too. He would imagine that it was you on your hands and knees, sucking his thick cock, taking it as deep as it would go down your tiny throat. The things he wanted to do to you... and you didn't even know it. Yet.

✯ Sal would manage to send a photo of himself to you (making a trade with another inmate), he would also slip his photo into his recent letter he sent off to you. Once you got it, you got to see him. Yes, you've seen mugshots of him before but that was along time ago and this was recent. He was.. handsome, he looked quite mysterious. His prosthetic made you feel.. tingly. You wanted to see more of him, especially his face. That would be asking for too much.

✯ The both you would still have conversations but there would also be.. "interesting" conversation. You would engage first with the explicit talk: "I have to be honest Sal.. I played with myself to your photo. I really want you inside of me, I really.. just want you to break me til' I'm unable to walk or form a sentence." You wrote in one letter. In return, Sal would praise you, call you his "good girl", his. Only his.

. . "You make me go feral inside of my cell. You're all I can think about, day and night, princess. I really want to feel your skin, you look so soft." . .

. . "In the showers when I'm alone. All I can think about is wanting to shower with you, our bare skin pressed together as we get each other clean." . .

. . "How are you doing today, princess? Did you remember to eat today? How were your finals today, too? I hope you did your best on it, you're my smart girl." . .

✯ I forgot to mention: Aside from the usual conversation and sexual talk/teasing of each other. Sal would regularly make sure you were eating, making your bed, brushing your teeth, just overall genuinely caring about you. Sal doesn't see you as his "little fuck toy" he sees you as his princess. His precious girl to care for you, he desperately wishes he wasn't behind bars so he can be with you. Sal has never felt this way in a long time with anyone, he's been through so much. Sal is quite surprised you feel the same way towards him.

✯ Being in love with an inmate and yes, a murderer despite him not having a choice. You loved the man, you shared personal things with him, shared many things with him actually. If only there was a way to get him out, to get him his freedom he deserved so badly.

✯ In your recent letters, you and Sal scheduled a meetup at Nockfell Prison. You two would finally see each other face-to-face for the first time. It made the both your hearts beat and flutter like there was no tomorrow, he had so much to tell you and you, the same. You'd finally be able to see his beautiful face (even if it's his prosthetic). It was a face you'd grow to love.

... Bonus!!🎉 (18+) 🥵

✯ Remember how you and Sal would send each other photos yourselves? Well, yes, the both of you would send naughty pictures to each other too.

✯ Sal loved when you would send photos of your naked body. He yearned to touch your curves, feel your breasts and squeeze them in his large hands. He wanted to feel every inch of you.

✯ I do think at one point Sal had manage to photograph his cock (a dick pic lol) and when you saw the image - THIS MAN IS HUNG. You always wondered how big or what it looked like but, the guy is big (8inches).

✯ Ah sending each other naughty pics was what got both of you through your days. Sal made a private folder (somehow) of all the naked/lewd pics of you, his girl. His little shrine~

°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

Phew! I hope I did good at writing this, this was all off the top of my head but I really wanted to write a penpal turned romantic type of thing, I guess? If you all want more or wanna ask questions (it can be SFW/NSFW questions)

Reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Inbox is Open - 24/7 - SFW/NSFW Asks/Questions are Allowed ❤️

- Aki✯

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

I’m just imagining now if the gang got stuck with the cult while they were doing culty thing like killing people and they were going to kill the gang next Travis just pulls out a fucking gun and shoots his dad like they would be so proud even if they weren’t friends with him yet

Honestly, because it’s Travis I think it would take a really desperate mental snap.

Like he would literally have to lose his mind to even threaten his abuser. Especially with the cult surrounding them.

However, if he DOES snap, he would go for something close. And what’s closer than his fathers sacrificial dagger?

Sal, who had been cuffed to a chair and forced to watch Kenneth ppl at a sick game of Russian roulette with his friends, landing on Ash (bby Sal is still holding a massive crush on her in this time I believe) and he watches a smaller hooded figure rush forward and tackle Kenneth to the ground. Since Ash is practically free she can get the others out of their bindings while the hooded figure violently stabs the dazed man on the ground.

First it’s shock, when the hood falls down. Travis!? He’s killing his own father!? For them!?!

Then there’s disbelief. This menacing bully that suddenly went missing can’t possibly be saving them. Is it a demon? Is the demon taking over???

Larry braves hoisting Travis away. It settles in that Travis isn’t even fully aware of his actions in the cries and screams of pure rage. The deep hatred for Kenneth had bubbled over into this vicious attack.

If Travis talks through this he’s cursing Kenneth. Damning him for the pain he’s caused so many. His mothers death, his friends death, his suffering and torment for years. The cult patrons are too scared to move. They had silently watched the abuse, what if they’re next? Travis could come for them at any moment!? Oh and he did. Lunging and snarling at them while they fled in a goofy little huddle. The gang already saw faces. They know who the members were now. Todd will make sure to alert the authorities he was in contact with.

Sal, finally free from the cuffs and chair, just hugs Travis. He’s happy to know Travis really didn’t hate them. At least if he did, less than he hated Kenneth.

Afterwards, even though Travis had to be carted away to get treatment both physically and mentally, the gang never forgot him. They sent letters and tried to keep as much contact as possible with him during his treatment. They would be grateful to him for saving them at a desperate time of need.

Larry jokingly offers to kiss him as thanks and almost sent Travis into another mental lapse-

[absolutelybatty]

Salloween Day 6: Premonition

[hazelnutterbutter15]

Here is some more Sally Face stuff

[sallyfaceless]

i girlbossed to close to the sun

[seaslvgged]

halloween was so fun!!! heres a prison sal for all of ur likings

[brixilla]

"You may be the only one."

Some more fanart. I loved this game so much♡