gillyp

[gillyp]

I received this miniature bird house as a gift from one of my closest friends a couple of years ago. "Blank", obviously, with the instructions to paint it as I see fit. I just never got around to it, until now. So thank you, @gallacrafts, for providing the opportunity 😍 Now, my husband, who grew up on a farm, lovingly informed me that birds would stay the fuck away from it because it's too colourful but fuck it, I think it's cute 😁 (Please excuse the motions of the camera, I swear there wasn't an earthquake while I was filming 🤦🏼‍♀️😅)

[gillyp]

The thing is, Iggy was at the wedding. He met all of Ian's gay friends (because he has friends) and they all got along. Iggy respects them for standing up to Terry. "Y'all have balls! Unless you don't, but you still badass!" And the lgbt friends just find him completely amusing.

A couple months later Ian finally drags Mickey to another brunch with his friends and who do they see when they walk into the restaurant?

"Yo, Mick! How come you never told me about brunch?"

"Since when you awake before noon?"

"All you can fucking drink mimosas bro!"

[gillyp]

Galladrabbles: Blur

Hello! Thank you @callivich for this week's @galladrabbles prompt: Blur.

Continuing my fantasy AU:

----

The Sellsword and the Mage, Part 47:

“Fine!” Fiona growled. “The Tower mages are angry that Three Rivers has offered the blood mages land and sanctuary. Ian, we must take advantage of your good relationship with the Tower.

Ian narrowed his eyes. “That’s it? For me to write a letter to the Tower?”

“Not a letter, Ian. You. We need you to build a bridge between Three Rivers and the Tower. As the new magic liaison in Svetlana’s court.”

Whatever else Fiona said blurred together in Ian’s mind as all he could think was Terry Milkovich operates out of Three Rivers. Mickey would never be safe there!

[gillyp]

Galladrabbles: Blur

i havent done these in a while!! i had more than one idea but would really like to share this one. thanks @callivich for the awesome prompt<33 paging @galladrabbles

🎧----------🎧

In the L sat two boys. 

Between them, an inch of space was kept. Far enough like they’re too afraid to touch; close as to feel the others' warmth.

The ginger one has his wired earphones on. Next to him, a ratty looking boy, playing with his thumbs nervously. They both look out the window, the concrete and skies pass them by in a blur.

The ginger, all doe-eyed, offers his right earbud. The dark-haired boy eyes him up and down, brows furrowed, bites his lower lip. He mutters, maybe, “gay as fuck” but takes it anyway. 

They both grin like idiots.

[gillyp]

hi beeee!! i hope you're doing okay 💖💖💖

ooohohohoho okay for the kiss thingy: god knows why cuz it sounds potentially very painful but i feel so compelled to request 28 🙏

sweet deanna! i'm hanging in, thanks love! 💖 so you & @lingy910y both requested #28 & i want to fill both of your prompts. but because you were (rightfully) afraid of pain, i gave you one that's a bit strange, but has a promisingly happy ending? you can be the judge! xx

- - - - -

send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

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#28: ...as a lie ps. this is inspired by this post about dealer!mickey & insomniac!ian, who have now rotted my brain.

Ian hasn’t slept in days.

It’s happened before—endless energy is one of his tried-and-true symptoms of mania—but this isn’t that. He’s taking his meds, his skin isn’t crawling and his mind is fairly quiet. Quiet enough to frustrate him as he tosses and turns and wonders what the fuck’s going on.

His schedule has been all over the place lately; his normal routine lost to the endless cycles of employment and Gallagher family responsibilities. He’d been hoping to add school to the mix this semester so that he could have other, less hectic options than a rig-riding EMT, but he’d pushed it off. A pity, now that all-nighters are apparently his thing.

Night two, he googles a few things, which is a huge mistake. Who can fall asleep after reading about how even just twenty-four hours without sleep can begin to derail your bodily systems? Sleep deprivation can cause or worsen conditions like Type 2 diabetes, High blood pressure, Stroke, Heart attack—his pulse leaps as his phone clatters to the ground.

Night three, he takes to the streets, running around the Southside until his lungs burn and his knees wobble. As he passes the clinic that gave his seventeen-year-old self a lifetime prescription for antipsychotics, he knows that if this lasts much longer, he should call his doctor. Tell them his nighttime meds aren’t putting him to sleep anymore. Nip this insomnia thing in the bud before it can overthrow the delicate balance he’s worked so hard to maintain.

Night four, desperate and a bit delusion, he pulls up a number he hasn’t used in years, saved under a contact labeled, DO NOT TEXT.

He breaks his own rule: Hey. Still making house calls?

The response is almost immediate: the fuck u care for?

Ian rolls his bloodshot eyes, typing: It’s an emergency.

Three little dots herald a response that makes him laugh: a weed emergency?

He stays strong: Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.

The next text makes his chest clench: u ok?

He decides to keep it vague—I can’t sleep, but it’s not what you think.—and hopes he doesn’t have to explain further and is relieved to read: u want ur usual?

Another clench: Indica

Two texts arrive in rapid succession: what else do u want? can i give u head while u smoke or no?

There it is: the reason Ian doesn’t use this number anymore.

Maybe in another life it would be a blessing to have a weed dealer to lovers arc with your childhood crush, but in this one, it was a curse. A curse that lasted almost a whole year, bringing with it an endless bouquet of blissful fucks and free weed, and a million moments of tenderness Ian knew nobody else was getting out of the guy. A curse that eventually came to collect payment in the form of bloodied knuckles, broken hearts and ego wounds. A curse that still clings to Ian’s psyche, filling his dreams with gentle, tattooed fingers and bright blue eyes and a sweet and savory scent that can only be described as Mickey.

Mickey, now DO NOT TEXT.

On second thought, maybe he should never sleep again.

The knock at the door makes him hard—a Pavlovian response that irks him more than the three sleepless nights he’s suffered so far. Three raps, one right after the other. The last one no more than a brush of his hand.

Ian adjusts himself and answers the door.

Fuck, one look at that smug asshole and he’s immediately right back in it. Lust and like and maybe even a little bit of reckless fucking love fill his body, rising to the surface like sweet cream. A layer of fat on the roof of one’s mouth; a treat to lick later, a reminder that they didn’t end things because they weren’t insanely hot for one another and potentially soulmates. They were just idiots. Stubborn, petty dicks.

Oh Pride, the great slayer of men.

Jesus, he needs to sleep.

“First one’s on the house,” Mickey says as he crosses the threshold, a joint held tightly between C and K.

Hours slip by. They laugh, they smoke. It feels like old times. Ian’s body is loose in a way it hasn’t been in years. It feels good. Like maybe-he-could-sleep-tonight good. And as he melts further into the couch, he starts to get a little horny too. Because Mickey’s yapping on and on about some asshole that frequents the bar he works at, and Ian’s listening, he swears he’s listening, but he’s also staring at Mickey’s mouth like he wants to take Mickey up on that text message and shut him the fuck up with his dick.

Like he wants to taste the stale smoke of his tongue.

Wants him to stay the night.

Forever, maybe.

Mickey finishes his story. His eyes go soft and he drums his fingers against his knee. “Should get outta your hair, Gallagher,” he says. “Letcha sleep.”

That’s the last thing Ian wants.

“Not tired,” he fibs.

Mickey cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not? ’S been days, man. This shit’s gotta be hittin’ ya by now.”

It’s true. It has been days and this shit is hitting him. Or maybe he’s having a sleep-deprivation-induced stroke. He just knows Mickey can’t go.

“Can’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss.”

Mickey’s already leaning in when he asks, “Then you promise you’ll hit the hay?”

Ian nods as Mickey presses a kiss to his lying lips.

[gillyp]

shameless creator's network - april two by two

I used a verse from Robert Frost's famous poem "The Road Not Taken" The road that Ian and Mickey chose was often hard. It wasn't the easy path. It was so unknown to the people around them. They couldn't see the path ahead. They couldn't see the destination but they believed there was one. And that has made all the difference.

[gillyp]

hi michelle 💖 i've been a little behind this week but if you're still taking drabble prompts then #6 “I need a place to stay.” please? 😚

#6: "i need a place to stay."

"c'mon, it's just one night," ian pleads.

lily gives him an apologetic look. "you know i would if i could, but i haven't seen my girlfriend in a week, and i don't think you want to hear two lesbians going at it all night."

"i don't mind!" ian exclaims, following lily out of the kitchen. "i'll wear earplugs!"

"...i live in a studio apartment."

"lils," ian groans, "i can't stay at my brother's place again, my nephew is driving me up the wall with his screaming."

lily sighs. "what about your other siblings? can't you stay with them?"

ian shakes his head. "debbie and carl barely have enough space in their apartment to breathe, let alone a couch for me to crash on."

"look, it's just one night," she points out. "the pipes in your apartment will be fixed by tomorrow, i'm sure you can endure a couple hours of a screaming baby until then."

"you don't understand. i love freddy, i do, but..." ian's eyes shift around conspiratorially. "i've seen some... things. i truly think he may be the..." gulps. "...devil incarnate."

lily wants to roll her eyes at her friend's usual theatrics, but decides to give him a break. "i'm sure he is, buddy," she says placatingly. "okay, what about..." she looks around the diner until her eyes land on–"mickey? i think he lives nearby, actually."

she watches in amusement as ian's eyes widen and starts coughing out of nowhere. she slaps his back a couple times as he gasps for air.

"i can't ask mickey," ian finally sputters, once he catches his breath. "i've barely said two words to him! plus," he lowers his voice to barely a whisper, "you know i have a crush on him."

this time lily does roll her eyes. "you know he doesn't bite, right? yo, milkovich!" she calls out, ignoring ian's frantic head shaking, "can ian crash on your couch? he needs a place to stay tonight and he's desperate."

"i–i'm not–desperate, no...." ian mumbles, as mickey pops his head out of the kitchen window.

"who?" he asks, brows furrowed, until he spots ian standing there, still as a statue. "oh. you."

lily didn't think it was possible for a human to turn such a dark shade of red without spontaneously combusting, but ian might be the exception.

"you know what... i'll just sleep... on a... park bench..."

mickey moves out of sight from the window without a word, leaving ian hanging his head like an abandoned puppy at the pound, defeated and wrung out.

"i guess i can hold a bible while i sleep..." he says slowly, mostly to himself, "...keep the demons away..."

lily sighs, ready to take pity on him (maybe she can ask aubrey to bring her noise-cancelling headphones?), before mickey walks past them, turns his head around, and raises a brow at ian.

"you comin' or not, orphan annie?"

about time, lily thinks, as she pushes ian's jaw up from the floor and shove him towards the door before mickey could change his mind.

the next day at work, she holds back a smirk when she spots a visible hickey on ian's neck. maybe mickey does like to bite after all.

[gillyp]

Galladrabbles: blur

This week's @galladrabbles is based on the prompt "blur" from the lovely @callivich. <3

_________________________

“You ever make someone cry before?”

He doesn’t know what made him say it. An attempt to be cocky, he guesses. To hide his discomfort and how desperately he’s not into getting his ass fucked by fake silicon dick. Now, hours later, alone in his room, he can’t stop thinking about it.

He’d brushed away the wetness gathering around Mickey’s eyes as he'd moved gently inside him, his own vision blurring with tears.

“I’m so proud of you,” he’d whispered, lips pressing softly against Mickey’s skin, bruised and broken.

It wasn’t about ecstasy that night.

It was about being free.

[gillyp]

galladrabbles “blur”

hi! i’m here with another @galladrabbles with the prompt “blur” from @callivich !!! i just love this prompt here’s some 4x12 moments and then after that, everything is perfect and nothing bad happens and they live happily ever after!!!

— — — —

mickey’s eyes flutter open, his head overcome with a foggy haze. the entire day prior was a blur. where was he?

his eyes finally fully open, landing on the large freckled arm that grips him tight and hand that follows, engulfing his own. the fog clears, replaced with something much lighter, much clearer. it’s a warmth that fills the blur as he rubs his eyes and stroked his hands through ian’s firey red tuft of hair. a weight lifts from him as a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, feeling okay for the first time in his life

[gillyp]

Blur

Thanks, @callivich for the @galladrabbles prompt. It was the perfect prompt for what I had in mind for this week!

Previously on No Sleep 'Til Nashville, Mickey and Ian made their way to the Greyhound station.

---

The bus trip passes in a blur. I’m lost in a tangle of Gallagher limbs. He touches my forehead, cups my cheek, kisses me every minute on the minute.

After all the shit we’ve gone through, the ride feels too easy. Roadblocks are easy to rally against. But when the path is clear, doubt creeps in.

We pull into Nashville Station at four o’clock. It’s sunny. The air smells like Keith.

He’s probably putting on his tux and double-checking the flowers right now.

I’ve been obsessed. I haven’t taken a moment to breathe.

Fuck.

Am I doing the right thing?

[gillyp]

this weeks @galladrabbles prompt from @callivich was "Blur"

His memories were mostly a blur now.  Time and age had taken their toll, and where once had been determination, hope, and optimism, now was mostly just confusion.

There was one thing that could cut through the blur, could push it back, if just for a bit.

One pair of hands, with faded tattoos that couldn’t be read, but were still clear in his mind.

FUCK U-UP they read, and they brought love, gentleness, and fleeting moments of clarity.

The hands reached out to grasp his own.

“Mick,” he gasped, “where have you been?”

“Right here,” he replied.  “Always here.”

[gillyp]

Doesn’t matter to me how old a fic is or even if people have recently commented… I’m at least going to like it and mostly leave a comment if if it’s been years…. That’s because I appreciate the writers, not saying I’m not sad they are no longer writing because I am xXx

Just so you all realize and see it in action:

This fic was finished in 2015 and the author hadn't had a comment since 2016. They appreciated the comment even though it was just emoji hearts, they were happy and surprised to receive love on their older fic.

Don't stop commenting just because it's an old piece or because you think you can't come up with something smart, witty or thoughtful to say.

Just say anything. Just put an emoji. Just let them know you appreciate their work.

[gillyp]

galladrabbles “blur”

sooo here is another @galladrabbles with the prompt “blur” from @callivich ! ian wakes up from an episode and mickey is there to ease the anxiety a bit

— — — —

ian rolls over, his arm landing on the empty mattress beside him. he rubs his eyes, his mind a complete blur. what time is it? his body aches as he throws crawls out of bed and shuffles downstairs.

“hey sleepyhead,” mickey greets him with a warm grin in attempt to mask his concern.

“hey,” ian looks around, the last few days still foggy, “what-“

“don’t worry about it,” mickey cuts him off, handing him a mug with steam billowing from the top. “let’s get you somethin’ to eat.”

ian complies, sitting on the barstool as mickey shuttles about, filling him in on the mundane details of his life from the past few days.

[gillyp]

I don’t know which author needs to hear this right now but even if you never update your wip i would never regret reading it a time of joy is never wasted

[gillyp]

HES SO

[gillyp]

Proud (Outro). - Twinklylights - Shameless (US) [Archive of Our Own] 13/13

He’s ready to continue being a husband. To continue loving Ian like it’s what he was put on earth to do.

He’s ready to wake up every day and know that he and Ian have made it. That all the things they’ve been through have been worth it.

He’s ready for year two and all the years that’ll come after that.

All the time they’ve got to spend, falling more in love with each other.

He’s ready for all of it.

Or, the month by month, high and low-lights of Mickey’s second year as a husband.

Read the WHOLE THING on Ao3!

Finally.

[gillyp]

I love this fic 🥰 xXx

Fic of the week! 📖

Every week, one member of our fic club picks a fic for us all to read. We gather on Sunday to discuss, rant, cry, rave, and otherwise gush about the fic! This week, we are reading an exception to the rule by @gallawitchxx

The link to our discord server can be found in our profile if you would like to join us!