#background gallavich

[romidoes]

[…] that can be touched. a love that i can write about gracefully if and when it ends.

[ohnopeh]

daydreaming about ian and mickey made me realise how mickey knows ian so well he can tell if he’s having an episode or not. considering how in s11 they discussed a lot about finding a job, money stress and what else, mickey did his best to fix things and make ian happy, less stressed.

the only moment he pushed ian not to dwell on his feelings was when he noticed how he ate and drank a lot in the morning, he probably also realised he was awake and stiff that day in bed— he tried to push him out of what could have been the start of a depressive episode by playing it cool, knowing ian gets defensive when it comes to his disorder. and i love so much how at the end of day, once they were back home, ian seemed sad so mickey voiced his concerns for him, probably wondering if he managed to help him feel better or not, how it’s important for both of them to communicate about their feelings but still trying to give ian time to understand it himself.

they have each others back and i love them so much.

[heymacy]

#floppy haired mickey my beloved

[ian-galagher]

"I don't get it. The box said it was supposed to be pumpkin autumn sunset!"

"Why did you try to dye your hair orange anyway?"

"Because it looks so damn good on you, thought it might look good on me, too."

---

Mickey's so into redheads, he thought he'd try the colour out on himself! And anyone who says it's pink, gets his ass handed to him.

Don't worry though, he embraces it in the end and starts wearing this outfit to match his hair. "It's a new trend," he says. "I actually love pink. Always have done." But don't you dare tell him he's rocking the pink. He'll still beat your ass.

---

Art by the wonderful @deathclassic

For commissions go here!

[darlingian]

Your Head is in His Lap by GrandSelfMythology

Red strands looping and curling between tattooed fingers.

He asks if this feels good.

You respond that it does. It does and it makes your brain quiet. 

For a moment.

Not for long, but it’s oh so good while it lasts. 

You wonder if he’ll let you run your fingers through his hair.

Black strands gliding softly between long freckled fingers.

Your fingers twitch at the thought, but he doesn’t like it for long. 

So you serve him in otherways. 

The little sounds: flick of the lighter. Pop of the bottle cap. A hum of pleasure. 

Lets you know you have done well. 

He thinks so too.

You said once, facetiously, that you “live to serve”. You wish you hadn’t spoken the words.

To confirm it.

He looked at you then.

And smiled.

Before he turned, you worried you caught the smile turn sad.

He’s wondered sometimes where it came from. This dream of serving your country. 

This country, in his opinion, would be better served by keeping their young and able bodied alive and well.

There’s a part of him he won’t acknowledge, that is.

Grateful.

That this dream didn’t work out for you.

You know it. 

You can tell.

You think so too.

But you don’t say this.

You served.

You served your community. 

Oxygen tanks are full. Defibrillator has fresh batteries. Gas is at 90%. Linens. Restraints already on the gurney. Siren.

Deep breath.

The emails were sent. The forms have been filled.

The letters of recommendation were mailed. 

You hope you’re not a fool for hoping.

You’ve never come to that conclusion yet.

Well. 

Every now and then…

You look up.

Blue eyes. Still looking at the television. 

Red strands looping and curling between tattooed fingers.

You close your eyes.

The tattoos stay. 

An after image.

FUCK U-P

A promise. 

The meaning used to be different.

Changed a few times for you. Fading all the while.

“Will you touch them up?”

“I’m letting him go.”

Squeeze on the shoulder. 

You are too.

Quiet.

Quiet.

Stop…

It never stops.

But sometimes it does.

Relax. 

Maybe if you focus.

Red strands looping and curling between tattooed fingers.

And it feels good.

[pussypopstiel]

Ppl comparing gallavich to other mlm ships its okay not everything is the same

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

Day Seven - Food Ian doesn’t wanna think or speak or make decisions. He just wants to vibe out. Luckily, Mickey is in a very gentle mood, and there’s nothing he loves more than making sure his boyfriend is happy and making sure he’s fed. Good thing they just picked up some strawberries, watermelon, and honey from the local market!

Day Eight - Lap Dance When Mickey fills in for someone at his old club, he doesn’t expect to catch this shy little redhead’s eye, and he really doesn’t expect the sister to shell out for a private dance for him. But now that he’s got him in a room all to himself, Mickey can’t wait to start playing.

Day Nine - “You better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.” Ian knows it’s late. He knows he shouldn’t be texting him at all - let alone while he’s in bed. But he’s drunk and he’s sick of fighting with his shitty husband and Ian’s always been bad at denying himself when it comes to Mickey.

Day Ten - "Did I say you could stop?" This isn’t the first time Mickey’s made Ian stretch himself out, but it’s the first time the toy’s been this big. But Ian wants to make him proud. Wants to please him. Dances along that tightrope between pleasure and pain and knows his husband’s there to catch him no matter which way he falls.

Day Eleven - "Open your mouth." Mickey needs Ian to rough him up, and he needs him to be fucking mean about it. Lucky for him, once Ian’s on, he’s on.

[doshiart]

Okay, I've been thinking about this for a long time, so…

✨Gallavich Art Raffle✨

Rules: like + reblog! follow is not required, only if you like what i do. (add something gallavich related 🖤🧡 in the tags so that i know you understand what it's all about)

Prize: full rendered art with background! Are you a writer? It may be a scene from your fic. Are you a reader? It may be a scene from your favorite fic. Do you have any ideas to bring it to life? Awesome! Any poses, any clothes, any AU's, meme situation? All of this is good. What's not working for me? Elderly people and children, mpreg, something really extremely.

When is it over? July 1! I'll put your names in the wheelofnames magic beautiful hat and pick a random winner.

This is my first art raffle ever, so i'm super excited! Wish you luck! ♡

Art examples below!

commission info

[ladykakata]

I just saw your post about ian’s disorder and how it distorts his reality and makes him question why mickey remains in his life and you really hit the nail on the head. people rarely talk about gallavich’s relationship battles from ian’s perspective unless it’s to criticise him and I think a lot of people find it difficult to relate to his issues ig? but mood disorders go hand in hand with anxiety, identity and confidence issues. but I also think its a writing issue because so little of ian’s experiences with his illness comes from his own perspective. so it makes sense the audience tends to sympathise more with mickey because we don’t get to see ian’s personal struggle or his reasoning for certain behaviors and s10 is one of the rare examples where he got to explain his issues and the audience still couldn’t understand. sorry this is ranty lol but I’m just happy to see more meta that defends some of ian’s actions 😊

Thank you <3 It makes me sad to see so many comments practically demonise Ian, and while Ian DOES do questionable things, he's no more or less blameless than Mickey.

A comment on my post mentioned that Ian fought for Mickey just as much as Mickey fought for Ian ... in the early seasons. Remember, Mickey literally beat Ian up in frustration over the situation with Svetlana and the forced marriage. Does him attacking Ian get him off the hook for what he did? No. Does it justify it? No. It's context, not justification, which can be two entirely different things. Ian refused to let Mickey go, he loved Mickey and was visibly heartbroken at the idea his man was slipping away, even if Mickey was trying to cover up his own upset by acting aggressively. Stans might paint Ian as in the wrong again, saying he should have been supportive of Mickey going through the forced marriage and understanding it's not as 'easy' as Ian makes it sound for Mickey to just deny his father. But bearing in mind, their relationship was still very young, Ian knows Terry is a disgusting and violent man, but the sense of doom and horror is not the same unless you've grown up with it and lived it like Mickey.

Ian fought for Mickey. And Mickey fought for Ian during his bipolar struggles. Keeping score is NOT wise in relationships, so I wouldn't call this keeping score, more them trading places in who is asking the other to stay or saying they love the other during dark times.

Another point is that this was all before Ian's bipolar condition really started to manifest, so Mickey must have been even more confused that the man who was distraught over him entering a meaningless marriage was suddenly pulling away and questioning his devotion. Emotional permanence is difficult in a lot of conditions, again I am not bipolar myself but DO have pretty erratic emotional issues that mean I can go from feeling adored to feeling like the scum of the Earth everyone hates, and there's the persistent background hum of feeling unwanted that's lifelong. Ian gets a triple-hit in that he's a middle child (younger than Fiona and Lip, older than Carl, Debbie and Liam), he's inherited Monica's bipolar disorder and his chronically unstable home life tends to lead to the idea of feeling wanted by his parents and forgotten by most. I wouldn't be surprised if he felt like his mother just rejected him/abandoned him considering how often she is gone, Frank has literally attacked him unprovoked and it was only when he grew in height and gained some confidence he really started to push back, and he is neither the baby of the family nor the parent figures that Fiona and Lip were forced to be. The people he tends to form relationships with tended to lean towards lust with no real chance at a stable, happy relationship (Kash, a married man with children, and Ned, who is the same albeit Jimmy is an adult) before Caleb and Trevor, which wouldn't surprise me if he again subconsciously thought he was disposable.

I guess I'm picking up on the side effects of Ian's neurodivergence, and it pairs with a comment remarking on how people are supportive of mental health disorders until their effects affect them, then suddenly everything is unacceptable. Again, some of Ian's actions are not justified - I'm once again referring to him baiting Mickey into a physical fight by calling him slurs - but he himself explains why he did it. Mickey looked past it, and I do wonder if he's realising that yeah ... Ian, the man HE knew and who was proudly gay with very little tolerance for homophobia, suddenly turning around and calling him slurs was incredibly out of character and likely another moment of Ian's brain lashing out.

Ian did negative things to Mickey, and he should apologise. Just as Mickey has done things to Ian and should apologise. One is not better than the other. Mickey's reasons for doing things can lie with his upbringing, PTSD and circumstances, Ian's reasons can lie with bipolar disorder, his upbringing and circumstances. But they are still well-intentioned for each other, and I think they do help bring out the best in each other.

[blue-disco-lights]

✨ Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Thank you so much for tagging me - love this one! (i love them all actually) @jrooc

@stocious @michellemisfit @doshiart @mybrainismelted @mmmichyyy

@sgtmickeyslaughter @gallapiech @suzy-queued @spookygingerr @roryonic

Name and A03 handle: Julia, Blue_Disco_Lights

Current Location: my dining table - my work is hybrid, so this (suprisingly uncomfortable setup) is my desk twice a week.

Favourite picrew: I never really wore my space buns this high, maybe a bit lower… also the jewelry is a Chain Mickey homage obviously.

What's one thing you want in a picrew? I love a creative background and good sweater options. If left to my own devices, I’d be in a hoodie all the time, but it’s nice to spice things up!

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? Hard to choose! it's a tie between some @galladrabbles and these @gallacrafts.

Why is it your favourite? I’ve been knitting since I was a kid but never really got beyond the scarf phase lol - and Season 1 Not-a-booty-call/“Whatever, see ya” Mickey wore that green scarf and I knew I had to recreate it. The t-shirt is me attempting to draw for the tomato theme and I just think it would be so funny if Ian actually wore this outside.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? For the scarf, it was all about finding the right yarn and also that cute patch that just appeared out of nowhere at the craft store. Drawing is hard because i don't know how 😆

Last ao3 fic you commented on? It was either on Shame-proof written by @ms-moonlight-inn and @notherenewjersey or A Song Only You Can Hear by @suzy-queued - both so good!

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I’m usually OK with WIPs taking a while, truly… but oh man, I’ll copy @jrooc's answer and say Things Beyond Mistake by grayola. What a STUNNING work and we’re left just aching for what happens for those two. My second is Elevator Music by gallavichsecurity- another beautifully written one that I hope will continue one day. 

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? I love enemies to lovers, the slower the burn the better 🫠🔥 . I’ve yelled about loving road trip plots a lot, so I loved Highway of Hedonism  by @roryonic (w/ beautiful art by @gallapiech).

Least favourite? I’ve never gravitated to mpreg   

Secret or surprising kink or trope? Never even knew A/B/O was a thing until i got here - hello! Same goes for Whump - once it clicked that it was an actual genre, it was like oh wow, i think i’ve been into this my whole life lol.

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Er, shocked quite honestly. When I see that I actually have multiple things posted on AO3 I do wonder who that person is??

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: There are so many hype people i want to thank in my writing journey - your amazing comments & reblogs really made me feel like a writer! (which was a little shocking - so please know they went a long way 💕) @gallawitchxx @energievie @creepkinginc @jrooc @michellemisfit @palepinkgoat @gillyp @suzy-queued @ian-galagher @sweetbee78 @francesrose3 - and special shout out to @mybrainismelted for being an amazing sounding board and co-conspirator on Gallavich Summer Camp among other things!

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Hang out on Discord and Tumblr, and fall into one of the very many tabs I have open. Currently it’s You’ll Never See Us Again by @spoonfulstar - and omggggg.

If you're tagged in this post and haven't made one of these yet - this is your official invite!

tagging in @lingy910y @deedala @heymrspatel @atthedugouts @wehangout

@lupeloto @sisitrip @sandrashaine @shippergirl121fic @stocious

@jessij1997 @sickness-health-all-that-shit @thisdivorce @sam-loves-seb @samantitheos

@mickeyheartian @mickeym4ndy @callivich @transsexual-dandelions @nymacron

@rororowyourboat18 @transmurderbug @bawlbrayker @i-think-you-mean-reduction @gallavichsuperfan

@runawaybrainsc @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @thepupperino @celestialmickey

@crossmydna @spacerockwriting @catgrassplantdad @look-i-love-u @silvanshadow

[ange1sang]

snail shells

3.3k words, mickey-centric/gallavich

; canon compliant, milkovich family + growing up milkovich, domestic violence/childhood abuse, hurt/comfort, angst, domestic fluff, memories, boys in love, growing up + getting older, trauma, happy ending, puking mentioned in passing

summary: how mickey milkovich goes from crushing snails beneath his boots to peeling them off of his husband's tomato plants.

The earliest memory Mickey has is of his mother screaming. He doesn't remember why she was screaming (though it isn't too hard to guess why) and he barely remembers what her voice sounded like when she spoke anymore, but he remembers her screaming like he was born with the sound engraved in his brain. Something about it makes his skin crawl, because there was never any point in screaming in the Milkovich house – nobody was going to come to your aid, so you either fought back or locked yourself in the bathroom until whoever was after you gave up. Under their roof it was always fight or flight. Freeze would have you beaten half to death and fawn didn't work with people who would happily wear your blood like a glove. Then again, most of his early memories make his skin crawl.

His uncles beating each other till bone cracked, loud and sickening while white trash reality TV droned on in the background. Hiding from a drunk Terry under the bed at his aunt's house when he was a toddler. Holding Mandy in his lap when she was still tiny, sucking on her hair and crying silently for a mommy who wasn't planning on coming home any time soon. Looking at his ears in the mirror, swollen and bruised black and blue, and not understanding why none of the other kids in his class ever looked as dirty or hurt as him. There are few memories from his childhood that don't involve grime or alcohol or injury, almost everything from that period overshadowed by the primal need to survive in a world that could've cared less if he made it to his next birthday. And even the handful of memories that aren't smeared with blood are coated in something bitter and sour and ugly.

Like when he was six years old and staying at his aunt's with Mandy, courtesy of a broken nose he'd gotten when one of his older cousins had shoved him out of the way without looking and he'd landed face first on the kitchen table. He remembers being mean and sharp even back then, because he had to be. To be soft meant being crushed beneath other's heels, and he couldn't afford to be crushed. Not now that he had Mandy to look out for – Mandy who was just a year younger than him but still younger, still a girl with pudgy cheeks and a bottom lip that quivered when their dad yelled. Still his little sister, living in a house full of burly, drunk men.

At his aunt's, though, he could afford to lose some of his mean edge. He could giggle at the cartoons on the TV without being told to shut up and could tug on his aunt's sleeve when he was hungry or thirsty without recoiling in fear of being smacked upside the head. He didn't have to survive in the same way that he did at home, which is why he found himself sitting on the porch watching snails and slugs trail slime on the concrete while rain pitter-pattered onto the steps.

Back at home he liked to kill insects, liked to swat at them with his hands or drown them in the kitchen sink, thought it was funny how their spindly legs flailed and their bodies squished under his thumb. Here he liked to just watch them, grubby fingers curled around his throbbing nose while he absentmindedly picked at the thick scab on the bridge of it. He liked the pattern on the snails' shells, liked how their eyes stuck out of their heads and moved around in the air. He was fascinated by how slowly they moved. At home he was always running – running to get out, running to dodge a fist – and at school he was always running too, getting away from teachers before he got caught pulling another kid's hair or slamming their arm with a locker door. He never got to move as calmly as the snails did, drag on the pavement like he had all the time in the world. He sat for what felt like hours and watched the snails with wide, envious eyes, flicking bits of bloody scab and skin onto the ground below him.

There was one snail, smaller than the others with a pinkish brown shell, that was moving particularly slowly. While the others carried on on their paths to nowhere in particular this one stopped every now and then, eyes waving around like it was trying to talk to Mickey. He reached out to poke it with a bloody finger, giggling when its eyes curled back into its body. If he didn't know better he would've picked it up and taken it inside, put it on the living room floor and watched to see if it would eat any of their Pop-Tart and cornflake crumbs. But his aunt wouldn't like that, so he stayed outside with it, waiting patiently for it to reach the edge of the porch and disappear into the grass.

He was so focused on the snail and the trail of slime it was leaving behind that he didn't notice Iggy stomping up the steps towards him, at least not until he stepped right on the snail, crushing its patterned shell beneath his heavy hand-me-down boot, hanging from his foot like a clown shoe.

"Iggy!" he yelled, eyes filling with angry tears, but it was too late. The other boy lifted his shoe and the snail was nothing but a pancake of slime and smashed up shell. It was never going to reach the grass now.

"C'mon, Joey's gonna get us KitKats from the Kash 'n Grab," Iggy said, all toothy grin and snotty nose. He didn't notice that he'd just stepped on the snail that Mickey had been watching all afternoon. Mickey wanted to run back inside and sit with Mandy and cry, because she was the only one who didn't mind if he cried. But he knew better than to do something like that, knew better than to wear his heart on his sleeve even if he was too little to know what was making his heart was twist and ache in his chest. He punched Iggy in the shoulder, narrowly escaping a punch back.

"Fuck you," he barked, barely knowing the meaning of the words but knowing that they were always appropriate in their family. As they raced each other to the corner store, kicking rocks at each other and yelling curse words back and forth, he could've sworn with each footstep he felt a snail shell cracking beneath the soles of his busted up shoes.

The only real rays of sunshine that broke through the clouds of growing up Milkovich appeared when he turned fifteen years old. Smoking outside of the Kash and Grab, bruised and filthy thanks to Terry and their overdue water bills, he spotted a new face among the shelves of the cornerstore. The redheaded Gallagher kid was in there, stacking cans of soup, freckled face laughing at something a customer was telling him, and Mickey felt his heart swell in a dangerous, nauseating way.

He wanted to crush the Gallagher kid then and there, enraged by the warm feeling in his chest. At the same time he wanted to stand there and watch him until the store closed, wanted to watch him meandering about those shelves in no rush at all, moving slow like the snails did outside of his aunt's house years ago, when he was still small enough to run from home calling for help. In the end he did neither of those things. He threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and stomped it out, even though he'd never cared about doing anything like that before, if only to feel something give out beneath his foot. It didn't get rid of the mushy feeling in his chest at all.

He quickly learned that there was almost nothing he could do to get rid of that mushy feeling he got around the ginger Gallagher. It didn't help when he beat on Kash or stole things from the corner store when he knew Gallagher would see him. It didn't help when he stayed past closing and caught Gallagher on his tiptoes kissing his boss, and it certainly didn't help when Mandy came home crying that Ian Gallagher (the redhead had a first name now – Ian) had groped her. So Mickey did the only thing he knew how to do. He beat up Kash and he beat up Lip, every punch and kick bringing with it a fiery dissatisfaction. Nothing he did would get rid of the stupid somersaults his heart kept doing every time someone mentioned the Gallagher kid, every time he walked past the blue house on North Wallace, every time he and his cousins went down to the Kash and Grab to snatch something to eat before their stomachs started growling again.

And then he beat up Ian. Or at least, he tried to.

One second he'd been sleeping and the next Ian Gallagher's head was between his thighs, pressed down into his worn, soiled mattress. And Ian was blinking up at him, bracing himself for a crowbar to the head. He blinked slow, his eyes muddy green-blue like rain pitter-pattering on snail slime. He was breathing heavy. There was a bruise forming on his cheekbone already, underneath his freckles. He had a lot of freckles, Mickey thought to himself. Way more now that he could see him up close. And just like that the mushy feeling eased up, turned into something he could hold. Something more scary than it used to be, but also more tolerable.

Mickey liked Ian. He liked Ian a lot. Liked his sideways, crooked smile and how he saw the good in everybody all the time. He liked how good he was to Mandy, liked how he took cigarettes from between Mickey's fingers like it was nothing so that they could share, liked the way his muscles moved beneath his skin and how warm his blood ran, his touch always searing Mickey's skin like he was branding his palm print into the space between Mickey's shoulderblades. He was sweet like orange soda, sarcastic and quick like a butterfly knife. He was soft where Mickey was sharp, and while that would've scared Mickey when he was fifteen by the time he was seventeen all it did was make his heart jump and his cheeks burn. That might've been why he let his guard down.

Rays of sunshine turned to dark, thick clouds quicker than Mickey ever could've anticipated. All it took was one poorly timed afternoon, one unlocked door, Ian's hands on his shoulders and a Russian hooker who would come to know him better than most people he'd ever meet.

In that one afternoon it became clear that those soft edges he loved on Ian had rubbed off on him, and all they had done was make it easier for Terry to dig his teeth deeper into the parts of him that mattered. All of the things he liked about Ian translated to nothing more than vulnerability in the end. Mickey wanted to hate him for it. It would've made his life easier, to shut out the reason he'd turned so soft. But all he did was hate himself.

The years he'd spent growing out of his bony elbows and teary eyes were thrown out of the window like they meant nothing after that afternoon. He was just a kid again, locked out of the house and dizzy from a too-hard smack to the head, but now he couldn't run crying to his aunt or hide out in the bathroom until Terry forgot about him. Terry wasn't ever going to forget, and if Mickey wasn't careful he'd get himself killed. Or worse, he'd get Ian killed.

Ian, his sister's best friend who never knew when to shut up about his fucking feelings. Ian who always smiled at him like they'd never done anything wrong in their whole shitty, South Side lives. Ian, who still made his heart squeeze and flip-flop even after Terry tried to pistol-whip that feeling out of him. Ian, bruised and bleeding on the ground telling Mickey to admit he was gay. Pleading for him to admit it just this once, pleading even after taking a fist to the stomach.

"Feel better now?" he asked, bleeding where Mickey's fist had broken the skin on his forehead. "Feel like a man?"

Mickey wanted to scream. Scream because nothing was going to make him feel better. Scream because Terry was always going to ruin anything his kids could get their hands on, and because he was stupid to think he could've held Ian without hurting him in the process. He wasn't sure that those were the words that would come out if he opened his mouth though. He was terrified on his own tongue and lips, terrified that they'd tell Ian something else, something fleshy and fragile instead. Something that could bleed.

His boot made a nauseating sound when it hit the side of Ian's head, blood flying across the gravel beneath them. A sound Mickey knew well from the Milkovich house. All of the warmth in his chest turned sour, rising in his throat like acid.

"I feel better now," he taunted as he walked away, his throat straining around the lie. Thunder rumbled loud in Mickey's ears, sounding an awful lot like his own racing, mangled heart.

He didn't turn back to look at Ian, didn't want to see his lips slick with blood instead of spit, didn't want to see the damage he'd done and how similar it looked to the kind of damage his father was so good at leaving behind. He wasn't ten steps away when he felt the crush beneath one of his shoes, the same one he'd kicked Ian with. A snail shell, turned to mush beneath his muddy, bloody sole. Everything in him screamed to stop and look, look at the life he'd destroyed with just one step. But he didn't. He couldn't, not without seeing himself in the shiny, sharp shell fragments.

He kicked off his shoes when he got home and locked himself in his room with a bottle of vodka. It didn't help. He could still feel the snail stuck to the bottom of his foot, broken and dead. He swallowed a mouthful of liquor and puked it right back up into his laundry basket. Ian's blood was on his knuckles when wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He could taste it as he sucked on his bottom lip like a teething kid.

He was a Milkovich through and through. He was just like Terry.

That feeling stuck around for far longer than he'd expected it to. Even after Ian came back to him, Mickey could feel it beneath his skin, sick and unclean. Each time he and Ian bickered, each time the redhead's muddy eyes turned sad, Mickey felt that snail's shell giving way beneath his foot. He was going to crush him again. The only boy he'd ever liked, let alone loved. Whether or not he wanted to he was going to dig his teeth into his soft spots and draw blood and hurt him. He was sure of it. And yet, he never did.

When Ian cried now Mickey didn't make it worse. He didn't make him bleed or bruise. He dried his cheeks and kissed his forehead, thumbs always hesitant, always scared that he was going to do what he'd been raised to do. And all Ian did was lean his face further into Mickey's touch, trusting him over and over again not to pull him limb from limb. Love was made up of a lot of that, Mickey eventually learned. Trusting, again and again and again. Trusting Ian not to drop his hand when things went awry. Trusting himself not to aim for the jugular when he felt vulnerable. Trusting the Gallaghers not to turn into Milkoviches when they'd had one too many drinks. Trusting as many people as he could, as often as he could, because even if his first memory was of his mother screaming there were better memories to be made. Better memories to build his life out of now.

Like how the morning light fills his and Ian's bedroom in their apartment on the West Side. Orange and warm, filtering through the gaps through their curtains and illuminating the freckles on Ian's chest. Most days Ian is awake before him, but on the days that he isn't Mickey gets to watch his husband sleeping, count every breath and every freckle if he wants to.

The first thing Ian does when he wakes up is smile. He's always been smiley, even when they were fucking in the back of a corner store and Mickey smelled like cow shit, but Mickey still hasn't gotten used to the butterflies it gives him, the way it eases the weight of the world on his shoulders. Then he kisses Mickey, like it's the easiest thing in the world, like they didn't fight tooth and nail for ten years to be able to do it. Then, he goes out onto their balcony and checks on the plants he's been growing.

He's always been gentler than most people, vulnerable and trusting in a way that reminds Mickey of Mandy and in a way that he sees in Debbie everyday. Mickey's always known this, but seeing how Ian handles fragile leaves and stems between his big fingers reminds him again that he's married to somebody soft. Somebody fleshy, who bleeds just like him.

Most of the time Mickey just watches him garden from afar, not interfering with the plants he knows nothing about, but every now and then he spots a bug crawling along a stem and he kneels down beside Ian to flick it away, watching with a smile as it scrambles to find its footing again. On even rarer occasions, he spots a snail gliding along the leaves of one of the plants, usually after a night of rain. He's always confused as to how they get up to their balcony, especially with how slowly they move, and he's always fascinated by the glistening trail of slime they leave behind. He guesses he'll always be that hurt little kid sitting on his aunt's porch, cradling his broken nose and waiting for the small snail with the pinkish brown shell to make it to the safety of the tall, untended grass.

He also knows that he's older now, that he doesn't have to watch somebody crush the snail with their big hand-me-down boots and that he isn't going to misstep and kill it by mistake, leaving behind a pancake of shell and flesh and slime. Now he gets to reach out and pick up the snail by its shell, snorting when its eyes recoil into its body, and carefully set it aside onto the wall of their building. He waits to make sure its got a grip on the wall before he lets go, and watches it slowly (so, so slowly) begin to make its way to a different destination.

When he turns around Ian is watching him with a fond smile that makes Mickey's ears burn.

"What're you lookin' at?" he asks, all faux-defensiveness as the mushy feeling he's known since he was fifteen fills his chest. Ian nearly always replies in the same way, just as enamored every time.

"My husband," he says, grinning at Mickey.

It's a simple memory, one that's taken place enough times that it should be mundane by now. It's still one of Mickey's favourite memories, one that overshadows all of the bitter and sour and ugly ones from his childhood. He kisses Ian, like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like they didn't fight tooth and nail for ten years to be able to do it, because everything he's been through was worth it in the end.

[look-i-love-u]

Gallacrafts - Theme 28 - Show love

Show love is the @gallacrafts theme...so of course I crafted something that photographs horribly and can't really be shown in one pic...

But love and friendship for me really is my light in the darkness when life gets sad and tough.

So have a Gallavich "show some fucking loving" candle!

Made with liquid wax and a candle. There's a vid of the whole thing underneath the cut.

Also featuring the Christmas present my Baba sent me as a sparkly glowing golden background. Because I love it and I love her. <3

[ms-moonlight-inn]

💥💥It’s the Wednesday Tag Game💥💥

Today’s tag game is about our wonderful fandom! Tagged by my lovelies @jrooc & @vintagelacerosette & @guinguin1984 & @blue-disco-lights & @mybrainismelted & @energievie & @doshiart

How did you get into the fandom? 

I started watching the show 'cause I was raised in the inner-city & heard that there was this new show that was doing this really good, honest depiction of inner-city life. Tell me the 'hood is being accurately depicted & neither romanticized, nor made into a caricature & I show up. Those first few seasons were so familiar to me in both comforting & repulsive ways.

And THEN there also happens to be a gay 'ship in this show?! 😱 I mean, there was no way I could escape the pull of Shameless.

So, it started with me binging back episodes, and it escalated to fanart. Then I tripped across some fanfic... I was a creepy creeper lurking in the background for a long time. Eventually, I struck up a conversation with @dancermk in her comment section. And it all snowballed from there. (Sorry, I just said snowballed –it's not meant to be used as a euphemism.)

What’s the first fandom channel you found? (Youtube, Reddit, Tumblr, Insta, Twitter, FB, other?)

Strangely enough, it was Pinterest, I think. It was some fanart or fanfic that was pinned & I followed the thread to AO3.

what’s your favourite now? 

Tumblr, but I find myself on Discord a lot lately. I used to spend my time on Twitter until musk took over.

Which mutual have you known the longest in the fandom?

The longest who is still in the fandom is @notherenewjersey. The longest who aren't in the fandom @dancermk & @stillbeatingheart

Which tumblerino’s did you have your first fandom crush(es) on and want to get to know?

😆 Anyone I've wanted to get to know has, unfortunately, been subjected to my extrovertedness. I don't think you can stop me from talking to people. 🫠 If I'm intrigued by someone's approach to Gallavich, I will interact & it's normally the response to my interaction that dictates how much I'll "harass" you.

First Gallavich fan fic you read (or that blew you away that you remember)

The first one that really drew me into the fandom & made me want to find other things to read was "As Long As The World Keeps Spinning," by @doodlevich. The whole Husbands and Shit series is so good.

First Fan art that blew your mind? 

So many, but the first one that really made my eyes pop out & my heart beat thump loudly in my chest was this one by @darthvaders-wife . It's so very representative of Mickey.

Fanfic trope that you were sure wasn’t for you but now you low key (or high key) love?

🤫🤫🤫 (but also any shade of monster fucking? though I always liked that. so, maybe praise kink, though I've always liked that, as well.)

ACTUALLY, now that I think about it, a lot of the fluff tags I thought would not be for me. And I wouldn't say that they are a high-key love of mind, because I do absolutely adore angst. But, I am much more tolerant of semi plotless domestic fluff than I ever thought I would be.

What surprised you most about this fandom?

The amount of good writing & art'ing we're privileged to have. There's just SO MUCH good here. 🥺🥰

Moment in the show (or YT vids if you’re one of those) that you fell in hyperfixation with Gallavich?

The scene at the docks. All of it. Before the kiss, during the kiss, after the kiss. 🫠

Ian or Mickey?

(I don't play this reindeer game)

Which Gallagher or Milkovich are you? 

Ugh. I wanna say Sandy, but I'm probably more of a Lip 😭

***

Tagging @notherenewjersey

[gallavichonly]

Hey gallavich fandom! I’m planning to create a project to make a Gallavich fan animated music video and I’m trying to collect reference images of the backgrounds in the show. If you have any good pictures of the set, the environment around the Gallavich houses, or just any picture in general from South side Chicago I’d love to see them❤️they would help tremendously! Thank you!!

[iheartmoons]

so i just read the most amazing gallavich hunger games fic and they stopped writing it just before gallavich are reaped for the second time. i’m SERIOUSLY considering writing my own AU of catching fire and using their fic as a background to mine 😔😔 i NEED more of it but i fear the only way is if i write my own

[burninface]

Hey, let's play a summer game!!

See our gallavich boys with cones? Which one of them do you want to give a scoop of ice cream? And which flavor would you choose for him?

Then tag one friend you want her/him/them to play next! I'll add your choice of ice cream ball to the cone (then on the former ice cream ball) and send a new ask with the new pic to the person you tagged! And don't worry, the choice of flavor can be repeated!

At the end of summer I'll post the final pic, see how many ice creams we gave to Ian and Mickey and how tall their ice creams can get! 😁

Hey myself!

The background story of this scene is from @too-schoolforcool 's post 🥄

and for the next pic I'll give our boys both a chocolate decorations on top, and I'm tagging @vintagelacerosette <3