I’ve been on my lesbian gallavich shit lately so here ya go happy holigays ✨👩🏻❤️💋👩🏻

Product Placement
Stranger Things

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taylor price

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Sweet Seals For You, Always
occasionally subtle
AnasAbdin
NASA
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

#extradirty
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
noise dept.
Mike Driver
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
ojovivo
Cosimo Galluzzi
Monterey Bay Aquarium

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@hazeisblue
I’ve been on my lesbian gallavich shit lately so here ya go happy holigays ✨👩🏻❤️💋👩🏻
fiona and ian gallagher in s6
hey, you made it! yeah, of course. i'm not gonna miss an old-school gallagher blowout.
big brother!Ian
lowkey all the leaves are brown and the sky is grey
rambling as I'm stuck in traffic (pmdd + mental health stuff cw)
I can listen to music again on the radio without feeling like I'm going to throw up so I guess I'm getting better but less than 12h ago I was crying at work lol This isn't fun anymore because I remember how upbeat I usually am and now I can barely pretend. It's not like I can tell my coworkers "yeah I'm upset over a guy I never dated plus I've been chronically depressed for years (surprise!) plus I'm pretty sure the PMDD is hitting extra hard this month".
Still, it's nice to be able to listen to music. Even if I'm going home just to keep working through the night. I need to go easy on the ansiolitics though because I'm falling asleep everywhere. I still haven't gotten my appetite back and now I'm not sure if it will ever go back to usual (that I'm not so sad about).
fanfic isn’t enough I need to travel back in time to 2015 and make shameless show runners pay noel fisher what he’s worth so mickey doesn’t get written out or treated like dog shit and he gets to be in season 6 and all the seasons after and gets to have his own development and his own storylines that he was meant to have
5x11 || 11x05
blah blah it's them
insp. @hoe-smad <3
new gallavich fanfic alert!!
summary:
It happens sometimes, when he wakes up and he can't breathe properly and everything feels like too much. Ian's here, though.
season 10/11
snippet:
“S’okay. You’re alright. You’re safe.” Soothing, muttered, sleepy, dragging and laden with sleep.
Mickey can’t tell if that’s real. He might have a heart attack. His heart is beating, pounding, struggling against his ribs. He knows the voice isn’t right. Something bad is going to happen because this is doomed, he knows it. He knows something bad is coming. He can still feel the darkness, the stench of perfume, the words ringing in his ears. He’s sick, this is sick.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
!!!!! read tags carefully plus notes for trigger warnings !!!!!
any support is greatly appreciated, I hope you guys enjoy :)
I know the summary and tagging is lazy and shit but I'm tired please
personal ramblings on tumblr bc i deleted twitter while trying to get over my parasocial relationship and i dont have anywhere else to overshare
it's a public holiday here in my country and also almost my birthday and i have so much work stuff to do. I'm not doing it anyway but it's _there_ And having a lot of work to do is good(!!!) because I have a yearly requirement of hours to fullfill and I need to keep this job for a while but also... I've been tired since June 2023.
Lol and having to explain people why I work on holidays and weekends and late nights and yeah we don't get paid extra hours and yeah we are not even technically workers either. Let's just say it's fun being a lawyer in a country with such messy work legislation.
Whumptober — Week 1
Finding old messages
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It’s a sunny Tuesday morning and Ian’s in the attic of the Gallagher house—his mission of organizing for Fiona forgotten when he finds the old shoe box he’d stashed up here nearly a year and a half ago.
Opening the top he sucked in a breath of the dusty air surrounding him. Pictures, letters he’d written but never gave and an old cell phone with its charger.
He bit his lip and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Contemplating. Did he really want to dig into this right now?
He sighed, twisting around, plugging the charger into an outlet and laid the phone down to charge.
Turning back to the box he rifled through some of the papers, he didn’t want to open them. Not yet. And grabbed the stack of Polaroids at the bottom. But one caught his eye the most.
The picture featured two figures. Himself, who looked so young, tired, fucking strung out. He was smiling at someone off camera. And the other figure…Mickey, who was looking at Ian looking, blue eyes shining and his teeth showing in a smile.
He looked…he looked in love. Like Ian hung the fucking moon. Like Ian wasn’t all over the goddamn place with a thousand different versions of himself pulling him in every direction.
“Shit,” he hissed, dropping the picture back in the box when he heard the sound of the phone coming back to life.
The glass of the screen was cracked, there was no passcode and Ian realized he hasn’t touched this phone since that day when he opened it and saw all of the notifications for unread messages and voicemails. More than half of them are from Mickey. He never listened to them. He couldn’t, not then.
Sitting here in the attic now he does. He reads all the texts. Listens to all the voicemails—frantic and desperate to figure out where Ian was. A tear drips onto the screen and Ian takes a deep shaking breath.
But then it's tear after tear after tear, streaming down and dripping from his chin.
How does he fix a fuck up this bad?