spookygingerr

[spookygingerr]

“first of all kev, put some pants on”

[spookygingerr]

Svetlana the woman that you are

[spookygingerr]

a year of art

very proud of everything i’ve learned this year, particularly with improving how i draw bodies and hair

i also never think i have a style but looking at this it’s so obvious it was all some by the same person

[spookygingerr]

Still in my lineart era <3 Apologies for the latest on this but here's my secret santa gift for @badassfetish!! Inspired on a scene in Cooperative Gameplay.

thank you @spookygingerr & @ian-galagher for the event <3

[spookygingerr]

BABY BABY BABY BABY EAAUUUGGHHHH!!!!

had to get these quick sketches out of my system lol

[spookygingerr]

chappell roan or the girl with the pearl earring? *gasp*

[spookygingerr]

a lil christmas smooch for @nozenfordaddy 🎄

[spookygingerr]

Secret Santa 2024 - a Gallavich Fic Club Event!

Thank you to all the writers and artists who participated this year - we're so excited to share your work! We'll share more as they post!

ART

gallavich x swan lake by @spookygingerr for @ian-galagher

Art by @badassfetish for @spacerockwriting

Art by @doshiart for @creepkinginc's story

emt!ian and bartender!mickey Art by @deathclassic for @konaiiro

FICS

Secret Santa ficlet by @ian-galagher for @spookygingerr

Story & Art by @creepkinginc for @notherenewjersey

Christmas Miracle, story & art by @gallapiech for @deathclassic

Sinner by @spacerockwriting for @thepupperino

The Housewarming Party by @blue-disco-lights for @runawaybrainsc

Infinite Runner by @jrooc for @gallapiech

Fuckin' Hate the Holidays, But I Fuckin' Love You by @runawaybrainsc for @ekatsches

The cold earth slept below; Above the cold sky shone; by @notherenewjersey for @sickness-health-all-that-shit

The Soft Places by @nozenfordaddy for @blue-disco-lights

Thank you to @spookygingerr & @ian-galagher for all their work creating and running the event! 💕

[spookygingerr]

happy secret santa @konaiiro !!

i saw emt!ian and bartender!mickey and i was so inspired <3 <3 i hope you enjoy this little drawing

[spookygingerr]

Him

[spookygingerr]

Melting snow dripping to the floor. A pot of hot chocolate boiling on the stove. A snout pressing into Mickey's side as he poured himself a cup, urging him to hurry up. He laughed - this tiny little thing, basically just air blown through his nose. "Okay, okay, I'm coming." Slowly, he followed Ian to the pile of pillows he had thrown onto the rug in front of the fireplace just a minute ago, sighing contentedly as he sunk into the cushions. Whining - this high-pitched thing in the back of his throat that was basically his wolf version of a drawn out "Miiick" -, Ian pushed a book closer to Mickey, before wrapping himself around his husband, his head in Mickey's lap. "Alright," Mickey mused, taking a sip of his chocolate, "where did we leave off?" Huffing, Ian shoved his snout into the book, opening it right where Mickey left a donkey ear the night before. "Right," Mickey said, throwing his husband a raised eyebrow and clearing his throat, "And the wolf put up his paws against the window. And when they saw that they were white, all seemed right, and they opened the door ..."

made and written for @notherenewjersey as part of @gallavich-fic-club's secret santa 2024 event - happy holidays, friend, and merry christmas. it was an honour to create something for you.

special thanks to @ian-galagher and @spookygingerr for organising <3

[spookygingerr]

merry early christmas to my not so secret santa Willow 🧡 @ian-galagher

gallavich x swan lake

ian is so under the evil spell that he doesn’t realise that ballerina isn’t mickey 🙄 in this version tho no one dies and gallavich live happily ever after 💖

[spookygingerr]

Her heels click on the pavement as she makes her way down the deserted street. She's got no goal in mind, just aimlessly walking through the city, the cold night making her pull her mantle tighter around herself.

She keeps her head down so she doesn't have to see the brightly colored lights, twinkling in the houses she passes. Happy families living their happy lives, celebrating that yearly event she can't stand herself. Maybe it would be different if she had someone waiting for her at home, but as it stands, it's just her, on her own.

That's fine by her. She's the only one she can rely on anyway. She's a strong, independent woman, and she knows what she wants, and right now, it's to disappear completely. She doesn't do parties, doesn't want to kiss people on the cheek, and hates having to listen to the same songs over and over on the radio.

If someone would decide to cancel Christmas forever, she would be fine with it. She scowls at the millionth decorated tree that blocks her path, making her veer off course. She takes a left, down a darker street, hoping to find more like minded people who aren't celebrating the holidays either.

She longs for a bit of home, a truly cold night, not this lukewarm air that smells of roast turkey and gingerbread. In the middle of the street, she pauses, peering around before snapping her fingers. White flakes drop from the sky like stars, glittering where they land on the back of her hand. She smiles.

She puts the hood of her mantle up over her long, flowing hair, enjoying it when her boots crunch as she steps through the snow. That's better. When she closes her eyes, it's almost as if she's back home again, not Chicago but Russia, where the winters can get really cold.

The snow forms its own mantle on the earth, cocooning her into a bubble of her own. It's quiet except for the ooh's and aah's of the people who come out of their homes to gawk at the snow. Maybe her plan has backfired a little bit.

Her path leads out onto a small square where she barely manages to dodge a snowball thrown by one of the screaming teens. It hits the wooden stall behind her and before anyone can accuse her of anything, she ducks behind a tree, filled with twinkling lights.

The rich smell of mulled wine and sausages drifts over from the various stalls that form a circle on the square. From her hiding spot, she watches a group of mostly boys attack each other with snowballs. There's not a coat free of a light dusting.

Ugh, boys! Like Christmas, she doesn't care much for them. She much prefers the curve of a woman, but the two boys she has her eye on are only interested in each other, and that she likes.

They’re not joining in on the snow fight with the others but stand to the side, their hands deep in their pockets, avoiding each other's gaze.

She rolls her eyes. Just kiss already!

She's not one to make any life changing decision on a whim and she doesn't believe in happy ever afters. Life is tough, but that's exactly why she feels like adding a sprinkle of happiness tonight.

With a wave of her hand, a scarf flutters down to earth and lands just behind the boys. Now she just needs them to turn around. She flicks her fingers and the man in the stall behind them calls out, "You boys want a hot chocolate? It's on the house!"

As if anyone can say no to that.

The boys turn on their heels, the redhead bending over to pick up the scarf. He looks around but there's no one it could belong to. With a pink blush and a sheepish grin, he hands it to the one with hair dark as the night.

At first, the kid tries to act cool and decline the gift, saying that he isn't that cold, but a sudden gust of wind makes him think twice, and he finally lets the freckled kid put the scarf around his neck.

The boys fetch their free drink and hold it with both hands, drinking it slowly, letting it warm them up from the inside out.

Maybe it warms her cold heart, too.

When the redhead gets whipped cream on his nose, the dark one laughs and reaches over to swipe it off with his thumb that he licks clean.

She envies it, the happiness these two seem to have, even when it's only the small start of something much bigger. She hopes to have something similar for herself one day.

Smiling at a job well done, she turns to leave, bumping straight into a young woman.

"Watch it!" they snap at the same time.

She holds back a laugh and looks, really looks, at the woman in front of her.

Long black hair, a nose ring, and eyes that shimmer with dark promises. It's enough to make her blush.

The woman drops the snowball that's been melting in her hands, ready to be thrown. She probably has to get back to the others but she's still here, in front of her.

She tries to think of a question, something to ask the woman, but the words get stuck in her throat.

Over the woman's shoulder, she sees the two boys walk away, their hands clasped tightly together, dangling between them. It gives her the courage she needs to finally speak.

What had worked for the two boys, might work for her.

"Would you like to go for a hot chocolate?"

The young woman is all smiles as she tucks her hair behind her ear. "Sure," she says, batting her long eyelashes at her. "I'm Mandy, by the way."

She feels warmer than she's done all day as she returns Mandy's smile tenfold. "Nice to meet you Mandy," she says, snapping her fingers behind her back. The hot chocolates begin to pour themselves. "I'm Svetlana."

[spookygingerr]

if you’re still taking prompts, 53+94?

#53. "take off your shirt."

(1.6k words of ian being a lovable dumb idiot and mickey going along with it)

it was a spur of the moment decision. one minute ian's getting off his shift, the next he's pushing open the door to the tattoo studio he passes by every day just around the corner from his apartment, a sign blaring MILK in bright neon lights welcoming him.

"hey," ian greets the overly-pierced girl sitting at the front desk. "do you take walk-ins?"

the girl snaps her gum. looks him up and down. "are you looking to get pierced or inked?"

"uh, inked." ian fidgets with the hem of his sleeve. "something small, on my arm, maybe. i don't know what i want, though. i haven't really... thought it through."

"well, all our artists are busy right now," she says, unbothered, handing him an album and a clipboard. "so if you don't mind waiting, flip through our flash book and see what kind of design you want, then fill out the consent form when you're ready."

ian nods. "should i wait here or..."

she points down the hallway. "room three is empty right now. i'll send one of our artists over in a bit for a consultation."

to ian's relief, the studio isn't like the grimy tattoo shop he went to a couple years ago. from what he can see, the place is kept clean and sterile, everything neatly organized and spotless. he settles into the leather-cushioned chair and aimlessly flips through the album, eyes glossing over page after page of designs.

honestly, he has no idea what he wants. he doesn't even know why he's doing this; why he wants a tattoo memorializing someone who was barely a fleeting presence for his entire life. how do you sum up a whirlwind and a hurricane? how do you solve a problem like monica? he and his siblings always jokingly asked each other.

but there was always a hint of despair, an unsaid sliver of yearning every time monica was brought up, because... how? how?

which is the very reason why he can't talk to his siblings about any of it - everyone has their own complicated relationship with monica, but no one wants to acknowledge them out loud. their mom is dead and all she left behind are faded memories, paper cuts on their hearts, and a couple kilos of meth.

...and now ian is getting a tattoo for her. go figure.

the longer he sits, however, the more his self-doubt starts to creep in. he starts to wonder if it's too late for him to back out.

"you my seven o'clock?"

ian looks up and finds a man staring at him curiously. a man with dark slicked-back hair and pale skin and a single silver bar piercing above his right brow, framing clear blue eyes. swirling intricate designs run down his arms and disappear underneath a tight black t-shirt - one side all colour, the other black ink only.

shit. this guy is fucking hot.

immediately ian's mind goes blank.

"uh... yes?"

"cool." the man closes the door. "name's mickey. did you fill out the consent form yet?"

mickey. the synapses in ian's brain short-circuits. "not yet...?"

mickey nods, as he heads towards the sink in the corner of the room. "you can fill it out while i set everything up. is this your first time?"

"no." ian lets out a breath and picks up the pen attached to the clipboard. "i've done it before."

"really." mickey surveys him up and down. "i don't see any."

ian winces, glad mickey can't see the patriotic eagle under his shirt. one of his many regrets, unfortunately. "it's um... hidden."

mickey's brows furrow for a moment, before his eyes light up. "ah. gotcha, man."

ian's not sure what to make of mickey's reaction - but he doesn't trust his mind to not say something dumb to who just might be the hottest guy he's ever seen standing in front of him, so he keeps his trap shut and quickly fills out the form before handing the clipboard over.

"so," mickey looks down at the form, "ian. do you know which side you want it on?"

ian blinks. "side?"

mickey blinks back at him. "right or left?"

ah. which arm. "left. i need the right one for work tomorrow," ian jokes.

mickey gives him a strange look. "sure."

ian watches as mickey snaps on a pair of black disposable gloves, then sets out some needles in sealed packages on a silver tray. he didn't think mickey would be a stick and poke kind of artist instead of using a tattoo gun, but at this point ian could care less the method in which he gets inked.

"you nervous?" mickey asks, noticing ian's fidgeting fingers in his lap.

ian lets out a breath.

"kind of," he admits. "my mom... she died recently, and i wanted to get something small to remind me of her."

"you..." mickey pauses. "you're doing this for your mom?"

"why?" ian asks, getting a bit self-conscious now. maybe mickey has seen a lot of his clients regret getting tattoos for their parents. "you think i shouldn't?"

"it's your choice," mickey replies slowly. "if you want something to really remember someone by, then this will do it."

ian lets out a breath. "yeah," he nods. "let's do this."

"take off your shirt, then," mickey says, and ian's brain once again goes offline because of course it does. "i'll sterilize the area first and then we'll get started."

in hindsight, if mickey was just some average-looking guy or literally any other person at all, maybe ian would've caught on earlier. do his due diligence and change the fire alarm batteries in his head, instead of letting the warning bells beep incessantly. he might've thought to himself hey, that's weird, why do i need to be shirtless if i'm getting a tattoo on my arm? and before i confirmed what design i want? when i don't even know what i'm getting? hm? hello?????

but alas, because clearly all rational thoughts have been thrown out of his head (did he have any to begin with?), he quickly unbuttons his emt uniform shirt and tosses it over the side of the chair. subtly yet not so subtly flexes his arms a bit, because hey, why the fuck not? he works out. he's fit. sue him for wanting to show off a bit.

except nothing, absolutely nothing, could've prepared him when mickey wipes a cool, stinging alcohol wipe across his left nipple.

ian yelps. practically falls out of the chair and almost lands on his ass. mickey just stares at him, gloved hand still held up.

"i– uhhhhh– look, there must be some misunderstanding–" ian sputters, feeling his cheeks heat up. "i'm getting a tattoo on my arm, not my, uh...."

"nipple?" mickey supplies, the corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards.

ian wants to die.

blames himself for thinking with his dick. or rather, not using his brain at all.

either way, he wishes he could pass away on the spot. cut the brakes. burst into flames. end it all, right there and then.

before he can say any parting words and then forever perish from the mortal realm, he feels something drape over his shoulders. looks up to mickey a mere breath's distance away, covering his shivering back with his shirt.

is that a smile on mickey's face? or is ian being delusional once again?

delusional. definitely delusional.

"sooo,” mickey drags out the word, “i guess you're not my seven o'clock nipple piercing appointment?"

ian shakes his head as he hastily buttons up his shirt, ignoring the heat filling his cheeks. "i guess there was some kind of mix-up, the girl out front told me to go wait in room three."

mickey rolls his eyes. "i swear sandy messes up on purpose just to fuck with me. how hard is it to keep track of three rooms?"

"you didn't think it was weird someone would need their right nipple for work? or that they want to get something pierced for their mom?" ian asks, a little incredulous.

mickey, ever full of indifference, merely shrugs. "hey, i don't know your life, man."

there's an awkward lull in the air. ian's eyes dart towards the door, hoping he can make a quick exit and then, perhaps, find a cliff and walk off it. "well, i'll just go then..."

"come back tomorrow night," mickey cuts him off, to ian's surprise. "you said you wanted something small, right? mandy's the best at doing fine line shit, she can help you design whatever you're thinking of."

"sandy, mandy, mickey. what, are you all related?" ian jokes weakly.

"cousin and sister," mickey shrugs. "it's a whole family affair up in here."

"okay," ian nods slowly, watching mickey turn on the tap to wash his hands. guess he’ll postpone his cliff walk for another day. "i'll come back tomorrow then."

just as ian’s about to bolt out the door, he hears a soft hey call out to him. when he turns around, he almost gasps when mickey’s standing directly behind him, and quite nearly has an aneurism when mickey reaches out his fingertips to straighten out his collar, blue eyes directly staring into his soul.

"don't take off your shirt for her though," mickey says, and ian's breath hitches. "bitch doesn't deserve a free show."

before his brain could stop his mouth from running (seems to be a common occurrence today), ian asks, "you liked what you saw, then?"

mickey pats ian's cheek twice, then steps back. "i don't hook up with clients, as a general rule."

"well," ian can't keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. "maybe after tomorrow then, when i’m not a client anymore?"

this time, ian knows he's not being delusional.

mickey's lips are definitely curved into a smile.

“guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

[spookygingerr]

and if you wind up in the dark again just turn and call my name and if the fire in your chest comes out well, i'll hold you all the same [small hands by radical face] // [fanart for story by nosho, go and read!]

to dear nosho @creepkinginc 🍏 with my warmest wishes happy holidays <3

special thanks to ice @spookygingerr and willow @ian-galagher for organizing this sweet secret santa!

[spookygingerr]

Her heels click on the pavement as she makes her way down the deserted street. She's got no goal in mind, just aimlessly walking through the city, the cold night making her pull her mantle tighter around herself.

She keeps her head down so she doesn't have to see the brightly colored lights, twinkling in the houses she passes. Happy families living their happy lives, celebrating that yearly event she can't stand herself. Maybe it would be different if she had someone waiting for her at home, but as it stands, it's just her, on her own.

That's fine by her. She's the only one she can rely on anyway. She's a strong, independent woman, and she knows what she wants, and right now, it's to disappear completely. She doesn't do parties, doesn't want to kiss people on the cheek, and hates having to listen to the same songs over and over on the radio.

If someone would decide to cancel Christmas forever, she would be fine with it. She scowls at the millionth decorated tree that blocks her path, making her veer off course. She takes a left, down a darker street, hoping to find more like minded people who aren't celebrating the holidays either.

She longs for a bit of home, a truly cold night, not this lukewarm air that smells of roast turkey and gingerbread. In the middle of the street, she pauses, peering around before snapping her fingers. White flakes drop from the sky like stars, glittering where they land on the back of her hand. She smiles.

She puts the hood of her mantle up over her long, flowing hair, enjoying it when her boots crunch as she steps through the snow. That's better. When she closes her eyes, it's almost as if she's back home again, not Chicago but Russia, where the winters can get really cold.

The snow forms its own mantle on the earth, cocooning her into a bubble of her own. It's quiet except for the ooh's and aah's of the people who come out of their homes to gawk at the snow. Maybe her plan has backfired a little bit.

Her path leads out onto a small square where she barely manages to dodge a snowball thrown by one of the screaming teens. It hits the wooden stall behind her and before anyone can accuse her of anything, she ducks behind a tree, filled with twinkling lights.

The rich smell of mulled wine and sausages drifts over from the various stalls that form a circle on the square. From her hiding spot, she watches a group of mostly boys attack each other with snowballs. There's not a coat free of a light dusting.

Ugh, boys! Like Christmas, she doesn't care much for them. She much prefers the curve of a woman, but the two boys she has her eye on are only interested in each other, and that she likes.

They’re not joining in on the snow fight with the others but stand to the side, their hands deep in their pockets, avoiding each other's gaze.

She rolls her eyes. Just kiss already!

She's not one to make any life changing decision on a whim and she doesn't believe in happy ever afters. Life is tough, but that's exactly why she feels like adding a sprinkle of happiness tonight.

With a wave of her hand, a scarf flutters down to earth and lands just behind the boys. Now she just needs them to turn around. She flicks her fingers and the man in the stall behind them calls out, "You boys want a hot chocolate? It's on the house!"

As if anyone can say no to that.

The boys turn on their heels, the redhead bending over to pick up the scarf. He looks around but there's no one it could belong to. With a pink blush and a sheepish grin, he hands it to the one with hair dark as the night.

At first, the kid tries to act cool and decline the gift, saying that he isn't that cold, but a sudden gust of wind makes him think twice, and he finally lets the freckled kid put the scarf around his neck.

The boys fetch their free drink and hold it with both hands, drinking it slowly, letting it warm them up from the inside out.

Maybe it warms her cold heart, too.

When the redhead gets whipped cream on his nose, the dark one laughs and reaches over to swipe it off with his thumb that he licks clean.

She envies it, the happiness these two seem to have, even when it's only the small start of something much bigger. She hopes to have something similar for herself one day.

Smiling at a job well done, she turns to leave, bumping straight into a young woman.

"Watch it!" they snap at the same time.

She holds back a laugh and looks, really looks, at the woman in front of her.

Long black hair, a nose ring, and eyes that shimmer with dark promises. It's enough to make her blush.

The woman drops the snowball that's been melting in her hands, ready to be thrown. She probably has to get back to the others but she's still here, in front of her.

She tries to think of a question, something to ask the woman, but the words get stuck in her throat.

Over the woman's shoulder, she sees the two boys walk away, their hands clasped tightly together, dangling between them. It gives her the courage she needs to finally speak.

What had worked for the two boys, might work for her.

"Would you like to go for a hot chocolate?"

The young woman is all smiles as she tucks her hair behind her ear. "Sure," she says, batting her long eyelashes at her. "I'm Mandy, by the way."

She feels warmer than she's done all day as she returns Mandy's smile tenfold. "Nice to meet you Mandy," she says, snapping her fingers behind her back. The hot chocolates begin to pour themselves. "I'm Svetlana."

[spookygingerr]

merry early christmas to my not so secret santa Willow 🧡 @ian-galagher

gallavich x swan lake

ian is so under the evil spell that he doesn’t realise that ballerina isn’t mickey 🙄 in this version tho no one dies and gallavich live happily ever after 💖