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[bawlbrayker]

Galladrabbles: Blur (#2)

Playing with another one - thank you @callivich and always TY @galladrabbles 🩵 In some season 5 feels today! Also, shout out to @bawlbrayker - I think of you when I think of this scene!

===================

He’s not sure what compelled him to strip down before strapping the guitar on. Probably the six-pack he’d finished off with Iggy that morning. The blunt. The other six-pack. 

His bruises ached, the cut on his cheek stung and his vision was blurring. But even the beer couldn’t dull the way his heart hurt. 

Couldn’t wipe out the images of Ian in that … place. How he looked straight through him. How helpless he felt.

And now here’s Peppermint Patty busting through the door, yelling at him about lithium… and Ian.  

“You can’t drink him away Mickey. It won’t work.”

[bawlbrayker]

Thank you Rayray @rayrayor for encouraging me to participate in the Drabble Challenge ♥ Thanks to Mandi @bawlbrayker for helping me edit this ♥

Here's my drabble on request number 15: “I’d kill for a coffee...literally.”

Morning crept inexorably into Ian and Mickey's bedroom, along with the sun's insidious rays. They should have gotten new blinds to replace the old ones Ian had taken from Lip and Tami's house in Milwaukee. In fact, Ian wasn't the least bit bothered by the fact that he had to wake up literally at the crack of dawn. He had long since gotten used to the strict regimen. The same could not be said for his husband, who had become particularly restless lately. Besides, Mickey had always hated the beginning of the work week.

Not that Ian thought there was any reason for Mickey's restlessness. But apparently Mickey himself thought otherwise.

The agitated tossing under the covers signaled to Ian that his husband was awake, and not in the best of spirits. It didn't come as a surprise to him either.

"Fucking shit!" Mickey jumped up from the bed so abruptly that the phone Ian was holding fell onto his chest.

Raising an eyebrow, Ian decided he wasn't going to release any comments just yet. Instead, he preferred to focus on enjoying the magnificent sight of his grumpy and completely naked husband. He couldn't hold back a disappointed sigh as Mickey quickly picked up the first boxers he could find from the floor and put them on, thus depriving Ian of an important part of his aesthetic pleasure.

Standing in front of the window, Mickey grabbed the blinds, crumpling them at the edges. He then jerked his arms violently, pulling the blinds off the window, allowing sunlight to fill their bedroom.

"Might as well not have this shit in here," Mickey yelled, throwing the now permanently broken blinds to the floor. Glancing over his shoulder, he threw Ian an angry look. "You should give this shit back…” he kicked the blinds with his foot,"to your fucking brother. I'll be fucking glad to know that asshole has as fucked up a morning start as we do."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with my morning," Ian couldn't resist commenting, for which he was immediately rewarded with two blue knives pointed right between his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I completely forgot that you are Mr. 'Nothing Can Take Away My Zen'. In that case, Master Shifu, could you stop thinking only about your own ass for a second and take care of your fucking neighbor? Isn't that what fucking kung fu teaches?"

"Actually, kung fu teaches you to be more tolerant of your neighbor first and foremost," Ian snapped back. "I'm sure I've been pretty good at it so far, Mickey."

With those words, he threw back the covers and slipped out of bed. His morning boner stared proudly at the ceiling as Ian stalked naked into the bathroom. He didn't like the fact that his husband had managed to get him off balance so quickly, but Mickey's lustful sigh behind Ian's back made up for that brief discomfort.

Ian's peace of mind was fully restored after Mickey caught up with him in the bathroom doorway. Ian received his rightful morning blowjob, which he immediately returned to Mickey with all the enthusiasm of which he was capable.

Brushing his teeth, Mickey mentioned in passing that Kit, their new West Side client, had turned out to be a sneaky bastard who'd tried his best to drive the price of shit down. Ian simply reminded Mickey that credit should be given to Kit, since it was Mickey who had arbitrarily jacked up the price of shit. The incident was over.

Until it turned out that there was no coffee in their apartment.

________________________________________________________

As they approached Starbucks, they found a line a mile long, which in itself was not surprising for a Monday morning. The next coffee shop was much less crowded, much to Ian's sincere joy. All his hopes of getting the morning going again were dashed immediately after the waiter mixed up their order and brought them iced coffee.

"If I liked drinking this shit, I'd have stayed in fucking Mexico!" shouted Mickey desperately as Ian dragged him outside, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

Eventually, after all the morning's misadventures, they found themselves in a tiny, unremarkable coffee shop. By West Side standards, it was just a hole in the wall, mostly ignored by the civilized locals. Ian figured: why not? After all, he and Mickey were still ghetto dudes, right? His temporary excitement quickly faded when he and Mickey walked up to the counter and found there.... the laziest barista in fucking Chicago.

Ian read the man's name on the nametag.

"Good morning, uh... Squidward?" he greeted the barista with the most idiotic name he'd ever seen. After the guy didn't even bother to look up from his phone at him, Ian decided to order anyway. "Double Americano and an Americano with cream, please."

Again, no response. Throwing a glance at his husband, who was leaning his butt on one of the tables, Ian realized Mickey was approaching boiling point. He returned his attention to the barista, already seriously contemplating that a plate of stale oatmeal cookies would look good on this guy's head.

"Hey, Mr. Tentacles," Ian muttered through clenched teeth.

Meanwhile, Mickey had gotten his ass off the table and walked over to the counter, resting his palms on it. A sly smile played on Ian's lips as he reached across the counter and slapped Squidward hard on the shoulder. The man didn't even flinch at this unceremonious invasion of his personal space. Instead, he slowly raised his head and stared at Ian, blinking his sleepy fish eyes stupidly, as if he didn't know there was anyone here but him.

Ian arched an eyebrow and nodded at Mickey's tattooed fingers, which his husband defiantly spread, knuckles pressing against the counter.

"I suspect you can read. Can you see what it says here?"

This time it apparently reached Squidward what an unpleasant situation he had gotten himself into. He swallowed awkwardly, and then, like an idiot, began to read aloud the writing on Mickey's knuckles. This made Ian growl impatiently and Mickey snort smugly.

"Bite him, Hercules!"

"Jesus Christ," Ian rolled his eyes, ignoring his shithead husband's retort. "Are the people in this place even capable of reading between the lines?" The barista blinked dumbly again. "Look," Ian noisily let the air out of his lungs. He points at Mickey’s tattooed fingers and spells it out, "It says, 'I'd kill for a coffee.' And that's not a euphemism, Mr. Tentacles. We understand each other now, right?"

With a hasty nod, Squidward jumped up from his seat.

A few minutes later, Ian and Mickey were enjoying a fairly decent coffee, seated at a table in the deserted coffee shop. They'd even allowed themselves to get a little fucked in the bathroom because Mickey was so damn horny. Ian thought he guessed the reason for that.

"Bye, Sponge fucking Bob. See you later," Mickey called out cheerfully, waving goodbye to Squidward as they left the café.

Once outside, Ian put his arm around his husband's waist and pulled him to him for a brief but deep kiss.

"Do you think he'll be happy to see us here again?"

"I don't care if he'll be glad or not," Mickey snorted. He looked relaxed now, which Ian couldn't help but be pleased about. "We'll definitely come back here again. Dude's a dickhead, sure, but his coffee's pretty damn good."

A wolfish smile blossomed on Ian's lips.

"Are you sure it's not because I turn you on so much when I'm angry?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Peter fucking Pan," Mickey rolled his eyes. "You know you look like a golden retriever most of the time, right?"

Twisting out of Ian's embrace, Mickey headed toward their parked car. Ian rushed after Mickey, resenting being demoted so abruptly.

"Hey, what happened to fucking Hercules?"

[bawlbrayker]

another LONG list of fic recs

but this time they're old, they're fuckin old and you should read them bc theyre so so good.

some of these are/were crossposted to fanfiction.net and all these are posted between 2011-2013 so keep that in mind too

I'll Hit the Earth With You  by mytimehaspassed

Some things don't change by why_me_why_not

Me and You, Baby by cigarettestainedeyes

Never Thought You'd Make Me Perspire, Never Thought I'd Do You The Same by cigarettestainedeyes

Fucked For Life by toejamfootball

I Only Came For The Free Beer  by townpariah

so, have you figured it out? by chivasintead1

Born Fucked by goldendoods

and it always comes back to you  by chivasintead1

Small Talk by quaffles

taking something (even when you know you don't need it) by purplecatsweater

Whoever Said Jealousy Was A Sin Didn't Know The End Result  by MintSauce

Only Sometimes by Smokemycancer

Mickey Milkovich: Cock Sucker by TWCooper

Shooting Stars  by Smokemycancer

Hopeless Wanderer  by 3hree6ix5ive 

Never Even Kissed by OkayKaylyn

Bullets and Books by MintSauce

Birthday Wishes by MintSauce

Amnesia by MintSauce

The Halfway House series by MintSauce

Fallen Devil  by gargoyles42

Run with Me  by Smokemycancer

Second Kiss by Daiya

just the same but brand new by orphan_account

Joint To A Crackhouse by MintSauce

I'll Sit With You by MintSauce

Every Love and Every Pretense by MintSauce

Memories and Scars by MintSauce

Kill For You by MintSauce

With a Bullet to the Back by MintSauce

Death to Terry Milkovich Party by girlunafraid23

Not So Subtle by 3hree6ix5ive

To cry on your shoulder by lyil

Dinner for two? by manspirations

Take Me In by MintSauce

Call Me Hopeless, Not Romantic by OkayKaylyn

PLAYDATE by therearethingsineed (orphan_account)

Sibling Bonding is Overrated by mac_haze

Do you care at all? by LoveLetter

Fucking Pineapples by MintSauce

his secret alone by fuckingkinney

Don't by helizabethg

Don't by afragileheart

Bits and Pieces by MonstersandMortals

The Interrupters by verily_i_say

Stop Your Wishing and Start Listening by writesaboutboys

Tell Me A Secret by MintSauce

Conversations Between Ghosts by MintSauce 

Not The Worst Thing by MintSauce

[bawlbrayker]

Hi. Can I clarify, are there any mandatory tags for posting art on Ao3 for Masquerade?

Hello!

I assume you mean for AO3, right? Since that's where we're posting...

Nope, no mandatory tags, but you do have to post under the collection (Gallavich Fanart Masquerade 2024). It's important that you already choose to add it to the collection at the moment of posting, so it'll automatically be unrevealed and anonymous. If you post first, then it won't work.

Hope this clarifies it, but don't hesitate to ask if you've still got questions.

[bawlbrayker]

[bawlbrayker]

since it's April Fool's... s4e3 Mickey met wrong but right carrot top in the Alibi LET'S GO

NSFW content warning! (but sound only)

[bawlbrayker]

That face, that smile!

Time: 63 h 10 min

Stitches: 7892/16560

Progress: 47.7%

So close to the halfway mark! I've left the most difficult part for last. The jacket is dark stitches on dark fabric, so I'm not totally looking forward to that. I will admit, I get a little giddy everytime I see it out of the hoop like this. This is the first large full coverage project I've ever done, so I get that feeling of "holy shit, I really made that!"

Progress has slowed considerably, as you've probably noticed. 2024 has been a particularly rough year for me, and we are only three months in. The time I usually spend being creative, writing and stitching, have been spent elsewhere so far.

And in the limited creative time I've had, I keep getting distracted by other projects, including a portrait of Cameron Monaghan (first progress pics coming soon!) and a portrait of a k-pop idol for my bff (progress pics of that also coming soon!).

But I have not given up on this beautiful face.

[bawlbrayker]

Gallavich Gift Exchange 2024 🎁

My giftee is the wonderful @grumble-fish, with our shared love of AU's, cocky!mickey and a good Meet-Ugly. Hope you like it, friend.

Summary: Old culinary school rivals, Chef Gallagher and Chef Milkovich are going head to head on Bobby Flay's new TV cooking competition show. Who will win?

Read it here!

Thanks to @gallavichthings for organizing, this was so fun to participate in.

[bawlbrayker]

It's posting day for my @gallavichthings Gift Exchange gift! I got @rayrayor and I wrote a little something for their prompt about Mickey being a 'straight' patron of Ian's gay bar. Happy gift exchange, I hope you enjoy it!

(There's no warnings and it's fairly PG)

You're Like In Love With Me - a gallavich a.u. fiction 🫶

Someone at the brewery has it in for Ian, he’s decided. They’ve assigned him the world’s weediest delivery guy, who manages to shift one keg for every seven Ian hauls off his truck, and always gets to Ian ‘after lunch’, which, tends to be closer to dinner than lunch in Ian’s opinion, and leaves him very little time to get everything stocked and inventoried and get a break in before the evening rush starts.

He’s sweating buckets as he waves the guy off and staggers back out into the main bar for some ice water. He rounds the bar and snags a dishcloth from Joni who wrinkles their nose up at him as he swipes it over his forehead and the back of his neck.

Joni doesn’t sweat, it’s a point of pride for them. Ian isn’t sure if they actually aren’t capable of sweating, or if they just avoid any activity that could possibly cause them to perspire.  If he was at home with his siblings, Ian would shake his head like a wet dog, sending droplets flying all over every surface and into the faces of any person standing close enough. But last year when he took over from Gigi she made him sit through like thirty hours of online health and safety and food hygiene training, and there is an open container of cut limes on the back bar that he can’t in good conscience condemn with his bodily fluids. So he holds himself back and focuses on getting himself a drink and trying not to be too obvious about checking out his favorite regular.

Mickey Milkovich has been coming to The Scratching Post since before Ian’s time, before it was ever even a gay bar, according to the man himself. When he was a kid, before the neighborhood ‘went to shit’ – Mickey’s colorful way of saying got gentrified by the u-haul lesbians and professional gays – it was something of a slum. And Mickey grew up a regular little slumdog. Before The Scratching Post was The Scratching Post, it was The Alibi Room, and the way Mickey tells it, it was basically his dad’s office. He’s told Ian stories about how he used to sit in one of the booths and watch his dad take book or make deals, how he got his first tattoo from the owner’s cousin who was trying to rustle up enough bail money to get her boyfriend out of jail after he shot up their apartment during a bad trip. How his older brother lost his virginity in the upstairs room when it was a short-lived brothel. How the whole fabric of his life is tied up in this place, like he’s just as much a part of it as the stains on the carpet that they’ve never bothered to change.

So now that Mickey is out of prison (attempted murder, but according to Mickey it was a trumped up bullshit charge and if he wanted to murder someone he would fucking succeed) and back living in the house he grew up in, he likes to drink in his neighborhood bar, even if it’s turned into some sort of haven for the L-G-B-T-Q-Whatever (his words). It’s home.

Ian doesn’t mind. Mickey’s a fast drinker and he can hold a lot of booze, and it never hurts to get some steady business during the day. And he likes Mickey. Kind of really likes him, actually. Sort of wouldn’t mind licking the inside of his mouth or tasting the sweat on the back of his neck. And that’s where he gets into a certain amount of trouble. Because Mickey Milkovich? Is straight.

Straight as a ramrod. Straight as a ruler. Straight as the day is long. Capital S Straight. So Ian tries not to think too much about how soft his lips look or how good he smells, and he also tries to keep it under wraps exactly how much he likes to look at the guy. He’s not gonna not look at him. But he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable in, from what Ian can gather, one of the only places he feels comfortable. And he also doesn’t want to get his ass kicked by a guy he has a crush on. He had enough of that kind of fun in high school.

So he grabs his pint of ice water and wipes his forehead with his stolen rag and he limits his glances to two seconds long with twenty second intervals. Or at least he thinks he does until Joni rolls their eyes at him and announces they are going on a smoke break, since he’s clearly gonna be there for a while anyway. He’d be annoyed but honestly, they’re right.

Mickey always sits in the same spot, on a high stool at the bar just where it’s curved around enough so that he can easily see the door but not so far that he can’t see who’s coming and going from the restroom or the back. His vigilance is quiet, but noticeable if you know what you’re looking for. Or if you just spend a lot of time looking.

He’s in his spot today, left hand curled loosely around his beer like he likes to be ready to drink at any moment, and he’s smiling down at his phone in a way that has Ian’s tummy start to fizz with little sparks of jealousy. What’s got him smiling like that? He’s desperate to know.

He doesn’t always talk to Mickey every time he comes in, he tries to show a respectful level of interest, though if you polled his employees they would probably say he fails at that. He does some quick math in his head while grabbing another rag and starting to wipe down the bar top, making his way down toward Mickey’s end. Today is Wednesday, Mickey didn’t come in yesterday, on Monday Ian kept his distance, and he hadn’t worked Sunday. That meant that their last interaction had been Saturday. Four days. That’s a decent interval, he figures, and he carries on wiping over the bar, trying to come up with a subtle way to find out what has made Mickey smile.

“That your girl?” Is what he’s got by the time he’s stood in front of Mickey, and it may not be subtle but it’s all he could think of.

“Huh?” Mickey asks, looking up.

“You uh, you look like something in your phone is making you real happy, I thought maybe it was a girl.”

“Oh, Uh.” Mickey looks down at his phone and then back up at Ian, his lips tugging down into a half frown. “No.”

He closes his phone and shoves it in his back pocket, eyes shifting around the room as he takes a sip of his beer. There’s something kind of shifty about it, like Ian’s made him uncomfortable somehow, and if Ian had more self-control he’d call this one a loss and find an excuse to leave him be. But his discipline only extends to his exercise regime and diet apparently because he finds himself unable to walk away, quietly desperate to know what Mickey had been looking at.

“So what d’you win a bet?”

Mickey huffs a laugh and sticks hi phone in his back pocket, Ian wipes a spot on the bar that he’s already wiped clean three times.

“Naw man, just a picture of my sister looking fuckin’ dumb in a squirrel hat.”

Ok. Not what Ian had been expecting.

“A…squirrel? Hat?”

“Yeah it’s for her job or whatever, she looks like a fuckin’ idiot.”

His words are harsh, but the smile that’s spreading over his lips is kind of soft, like he is actually kind of fond of his sister. Ian’s never seen him smile like that before. His smile is always kind of dirty, or wry, or sometimes bordering on a grimace, this is different, and Ian feels like he’s unlocked a new Mickey nugget. He wonders if he can get some more.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Two brothers, one sister.” He takes a gulp of his beer and then does a thoughtful little shrug. “That I know of. The way my dad was though, wouldn’t be too shocked if I got a bunch more I don’t know about.”

There’s that wry smile that Ian’s used to, with a half an eye roll that belies a lifetime of dealing with a parent who never stops disappointing you. It’s an eyeroll Ian has performed many a time himself.

“God yeah me too. I got at least one half-sister who showed up out of the blue a few years back, but I could be related to half the city for all I know.”

“Half the redheads at least.” And there’s the dirty smile. He’s mentioned Ian’s hair a few times, most people tease him about it a little, it’s no big deal. He imagines Mickey would have terrorized him if they’d known each other as kids, chasing him around calling him Carrot Top or Little Orphan Annie. This is kind of a gentle tease though, something warm, accompanied with a squint that could almost be a wink, if Mickey Milkovich was the kind of guy who winked, and it spurs Ian on.

“I knew this girl in high school, her dad had so many kids running around that she had to ask people for their family tree before she would hook up with them.”

Mickey almost chokes on his beer.

“Fuck me, should I be doing that?”

“I don’t know. She had a close call once, and her dad literally had like, thirty kids.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah, so, next time you’re lookin’ to hook up with someone, just, ask for a DNA screening first I guess.”

Mickey nods, and then the air sort of drops out of the conversation, like it has nowhere left to go. Mickey gulps the last of his beer in one huge mouthful that puffs his cheeks out and sort of makes him look like he’s chewing it, and the only thing Ian can think to say is to ask him if he wants another.

“Nah I’m good, gotta get back.” He throws some cash down on the bar to cover his tab and is out the door with his arms still shoving into his jacket before Ian can even say syanora.

And then he doesn’t come back for three weeks.

It’s not like Ian’s moping, Joni can fuck off for implying that. The bar is busy and he has a lot to do and employees to manage and siblings to deal with. But in the afternoons sometimes he’ll find himself staring at the empty space where Mickey would normally be and wondering, kind of forlornly, if the guy is ever coming back. Trying to figure out what he did or said in that last conversation that pissed him off so bad he would forsake his childhood bar.

Ian misses him. His expressive face and his disgusting sense of humour, and the way he makes Ian feel, like on edge and at ease at the same time. It just sucks, not seeing him, and not knowing why.

And then one day, three weeks and four days since The Scratching Post had last seen hide or hair of him, he’s back, sitting on his regular stool when Ian gets done mopping the bathrooms.

It gives him a jolt, a little shiver of excitement running down his spine as he shoves the mop in the corner and rounds the bar.

“Haven’t seen you around here lately.” He greets Mickey, as casually as he can, and Mickey looks up, kind of startled, and then looks down at the bar. Or. There’s a white envelope sitting there, and he seems fixated on it.  

“Everything ok Mick?”

Mickey nods, a quick little jerk of a thing, eyes fixed on the envelope. He doesn’t even have a drink in front of him.

“You want a beer?”

He shakes his head, brings his right hand up to lay his fingertips over the envelope and slide it across the bar toward Ian.

“What’s this?” Ian picks it up, there’s no name on it, no details, it’s not sealed but he’s still not sure if he should open it. Mickey’s looking up at him when he’s done inspecting it.

“It’s uh.” His bright blue eyes flick away and then back again, are they wetter than usual? They seem so shiny when they finally rest back on Ian. “It’s a DNA test.”

“A DNA test?”

“Yeah. We um. We ain’t related. So.”

He raps his knuckles on the bar a couple of times in a short sharp knock that he must think serves as a suitable stop to this most bizarre of conversations, and clambers off his stool, heading for the door.

“Wait Mickey—What?!”

“Just. Read it.”

The door has barely had time to swing shut before Ian is practically tearing the envelope in his haste to look at the paper inside. It’s exactly what Mickey said, a DNA test, comparing Mickey’s DNA to his own, which, he’s gonna have to talk to him about where he got a sample of Ian’s DNA from, and confirming that there’s no overlap. In the top right corner, in a chicken scratch of a hand, Mickey has scrawled the words ‘just in case’ and then a phone number, and Ian almost drops his phone in the ice trough in his rush to pull it out of his pocket and send a text.

[2:34pm]         I thought you were straight?

The reply buzzes through almost immediately, like maybe Mickey’s stood outside looking at his phone waiting to see what happens.

[2:34pm]         Good.

It’s a very Mickey text, and something about it makes Ian feel warm, like he’s being trusted with something Mickey doesn’t trust a lot of people with.

[2:35pm]         Where did you get a sample of my DNA??

[2:35pm]         That really what you wanna be asking me right now?

[2:35pm]         I’ve got a lot of things I want to ask you.

[2:36pm]         So come outside, I don’t got all day.

It’s possible that Ian knocks over a stool and drops his dishcloth on the floor, he’s got bigger fish to fry.

[bawlbrayker]

For @bawlbrayker

Submission for the Gallavich Gift Exchange 2024.

thank you @gallavichthings for putting this all together and also for kindly dealing with some of the silly things i may have asked.

i’m super excited to see what all comes out of this.

this is my first time participating in something like this and i’d be absolutely lying if i said i wasn’t anxious about it, but i had an absolute blast getting to write this piece.

@bawlbrayker, i truly hope that i did your prompt justice and that i didn’t hurt mickey too much… (fix it calls for just a bit of angst. i’m sorry!)

[bawlbrayker]

Gallacrafts: Theme #31

🌱🍅 Garden Crafts (Tomato Boy) 🍅🌱

I just think Mickey saw this shirt in a thrift store somewhere and absolutely had to get it for his husband. It’s versatile- great for gardening on a warm day, perfect for a trip to that pretentious farmers market Ian likes so much.

… a first try at drawing :) …

@gallacrafts 😘🍅

[bawlbrayker]

🧡🖤 Happy Gift Exchange everyone! 🖤🧡

Teen gallavich gift for the lovely @michellemisfit with the birthday boy! 🧡🖤

Prompt: Teen Setting with them being awkward but still wanting to mark the day.

I like to think about Ian making a cake for Mickey and sneaking it into the van.

Gallavich Gift Exchange 2024 by our dearest host @gallavichthings Thank you for organizing this!!!

[bawlbrayker]

Firstly, I want to send a huge shout out and thank you to @gallavichthings for the immense amount of work they have put in to make the 2024 Gallavich Gift Exchange happen!

Also, a big shout out to all the participants - it's so cool to be a part of this!

I was terrified to participate, not knowing if I would be able to create something that my giftee would enjoy. My reason for sharing that, is that I want to encourage ANYONE who wants to participate in future events... join in!

I had a lot of fun writing this, thinking about things my giftee, @mybrainismelted, would enjoy!

Kat, I really hope you enjoy this, I threw in some Easter Eggs for you!!

Fic rated M, 2k words.

[bawlbrayker]

Self Rec Sunday (but a week late!)

Thanks to @rayrayor and @jrooc for the tag!

I have to say, my first fic will always be closest to my heart. It was challenging, to try to write one of the biggest Gallavich scenes ever. But with so much help, advice and encouragement from my dear friends, I was able to publish something that I am really proud of.

I wrote the Docks scene, from "Knew you'd come," to Ian slamming the van door the next morning.

Tagging @sweetperversiongirl, @ryantryinx, @sweetbee78, @em-harlsnow, @guinguin1984, @gembu-tortuesouscafeine, @twinklyylights, @deathclassic, @creepkinginc, @southsidestory, @whatthebodygraspsnot, @suzy-queued, @crossmydna, @gallabitch73, @ifallonblackdays and @captainjowl to play if you wish!

If you arent tagged, and wish you were, please play too! I'd love to know your fave work, so please tag me in your post!

[bawlbrayker]

In My Veins Like Lightning

one last doodle before I get ready for bed ehehe :^)

[bawlbrayker]

Re: #9...

Some of my favourite details in shameless that make their world seem lived in

1. Mickeys crushed RedBull can, the human skull, the baton and of course his art on the walls

2. The whole in the wall from “Time to kill the turtle” which was never fixed ~ Frank’s destruction is everlasting

3. The toilet roll on the dirty floor, the different coloured towels and the hairdryer on the back of the toilet

4. The “no parking” sign most likely stolen, the globe, kids drawings all over the wall and the stickers on the bedpost

5. It’s so clear this house belonged to an old lady, look at the wallpaper and the curtains, aunt gingers furniture mixed in with the highchair for Liam and other plastic kid-safe plates

6. The toy car on the kitchen isle and the sticker on the water heater, the leftover kitchenware from aunt ginger and the cheap plastic containers

7. “Food stamps ok” <3

8. The warning tape Lip or Ian presumably decorated their door with, the teddy bear duck taped to the wall, the full laundry bin, a single wall-scone

9. Bubble wrap as curtains, multiple bones and skulls, an alligator head, crushed beer cans, mismatching bedding and a drawing of tits

10. Glass-stained windows next to the killing bat, lace curtains and chips in the paint on the staircase

[bawlbrayker]