#a.u.gust 2023

[darthvaders-wife]

AUgust - All my art❤🙌What is your favorite AU?❤

Thanks a lot to @gallavichthings ❤

[gallawitchxx]

A.U.gust 2023 | DAY SIXTEEN — Soulmates

thanks to @gallavichthings for hosting! 🥳

“You really don’t see it?” Ian says, his voice rising with desperation.

Lip shakes his head. “There’s nothing there, Ian.”

Except that there is! A thin, red string loops around Ian’s left hand ring finger; the end of which trails out the back door of 2119 N Wallace, and disappears into the night.

“Don’t wait up.”

He barely registers Lip’s warnings, his heart racing like a hunter gaining on its prey. Ian’s heard of this before, knows what awaits him on the other end, but—no fucking way…

Mickey Milkovich stands on his porch, wrapped in disbelief and red thread.

[sisitrip]

Gallavich A.U.gust 2023, paging @gallavichthings

My submission for Day 2 - Surfer/Lifeguard - "Put Your Lips Together and Blow"

(A day late and a dollar short, so I'm serving up a little smickety-smut lol)

________________________ The tower is stifling hot but Mickey doesn’t care. A well earned lesson is about to be imparted. 

“Our agreement was that you’d visit and no matter what you saw, you wouldn’t interfere,” Ian murmurs as he works. 

Mickey rises on his toes as Ian slowly pours ice cold water over his back entrance. He huffs, bent over and burning inside while Ian holds him fast by the neck. Despite having Mickey spread naked over the wooden table in this seventh-level-of-hell lifeguard tower, Ian continues almost casually.

“I said that I get approached all the time, but as the lifeguard on duty, I pay it no attention,” Ian recites, ceasing his endless pour. “You said that it wouldn’t bother you if I got hit on while I worked and that you just wanted to spend the day on the beach.”

Mickey clenches as rivulets of icy water run down the back of his thighs. They tickle a cool path to his heels and distracts him from keeping his cheeks parted. 

“Wider, please,” Ian asks politely. 

Mickey spreads his cheeks again and jumps when Ian resumes the stream of water. 

“One fist fight later and here we are, cleaning sand out of your crack because I can’t wait to get home to fuck you,” Ian laments.

The water stops and Ian applies lube, prepping Mickey with fingers that feel blazing hot after his rinsing. His feet slip in the water as he writhes soundlessly on the table, breached by one, then two and finally, thankfully three fingers. Diamond hard, he has never been so ready to accept the consequences for his temper. 

The beachgoers right outside the tower laugh, play music and fill the air with their summer ruckus. But, here, in this small, square room, it was silent except the sound of Ian slicking himself up. A maddening sound. An engorging sound. 

“In less than a minute, I’m going to be losing my mind, so I’ll say it again, just to be clear,” Ian whispers, starting his slow slide inside. “My whistle stays in your mouth. I hear a single sound coming from it and I’ll put you away wet.”

Ian seats himself entirely inside and Mickey forgets the heat, the beach, even the roughness of the table supporting him. The fullness leaves him with the willpower for only two things.

Carefully gripping Ian’s whistle between his teeth and breathing through his nose.

As Ian’s jarring, yet delicious thrusts set about breaking down his will, Mickey begins to pray.

[blue-disco-lights]

Gallavich A.U.gust ✨ Day 2 ~ Surfer/Lifeguard

Cowabunga dudes 🤙🏼 had fun with this retro moodboard! Thank you @gallavichthings ☀️

It’s the summer of ‘62 and Ian Gallagher isn't happy about moving to this small run-down beach town with his family, or having to take this lifeguard gig to save up money for his next semester of college. He thought it’d be chill - just blowing his whistle at rowdy beachgoers- until a dark-haired daredevil catches his eye… Mickey's a local and nothing but bad news... "You gotta get outta that tower and get into the waves, Red"... will Ian learn to ride the gnarly surf and fall in love by summer’s end? … 🌊

[jrooc]

Heat Syncope

A.U.gust 2023 - Day 16, Soulmates, @gallavichthings

Here's a little something I whipped up this morning for A.U.gust.

---

It was mid-summer and hot as hell in Chicago. The heat had reached that peak where it just beat down on you, radiating off the concrete and making you feel like you were baking. It was making Mickey grumpy as hell.

Mickey being grumpy in the mornings (or in general) wasn’t exactly news, but it was especially bad today. He lit a cigarette and poured the freshly made coffee into a mug adding his three sugars and some cream, walking out onto his tiny balcony that a tiny table and two small chairs. He sat down in his usual seat. Ian usually sat in the other chair.

Normally by 9am he’d start to feel more human but his black mood just hung over his head. It wasn’t just the heat, if was being honest with himself - and he definitely wasn’t - it was that a certain redhead he’d recently started seeing had had to work the night before and got stuck at work. He'd had texted late the night before saying he couldn’t make it over. So Mickey had woken up alone and hot, his apartment feeling like an oven. A miserable empty stupid oven. He ignored the irony that his huge ginger.. whatever he was to him, ran hot and an extra body in his bed would only have made things hotter but he didn’t care. That redheaded asshole had wormed his way into Mickey’s life and bed and now he seemed to sleep terribly without him.

They hadn’t been dating that long.. dating.. fucking.. whatever. But Mickey felt like an addict. He felt totally outta control around the redhead. He wanted to be around him all the time. He said and did all these stupid soft things now, who was he even? He basically couldn’t say no to him. Would do anything for it. It was fucking terrifying. It always felt so big, like he’d jumped - or been pushed- off a cliff and was free falling. He kind of hated it. But also didn’t hate it at all.

Fuck. He shook himself. There was a tiny breeze on the balcony but no reprieve from the intense heat of the sun that was already picking up momentum this early in the day. He didn’t work until that night but didn’t know if he could stay in this apartment all day. His mind turned to Ian but he shook his head. That was it, he hated feeling like a little bitch. He was done. No more messing around with Gallagher. That asshole thought he could just come and go as he pleased? Probably already moved onto someone new. Maybe he didn’t even have to work? Maybe it was an excuse. Maybe he’d gone out to some bar. Mickey got madder as he sat there.

His phone buzzed.

Gallagher: Hey Mick, how’d you sleep? Sorry I couldn’t make it. The hospital was crazy busy last night.

Mickey read the message and he felt his resolve fall away a little. He put his phone down. He wasn’t going to answer.

Gallagher: I missed ya. Gallagher: It’s hot as fuck today. I think my brain is melting. Would you wanna go to the beach with me? I know it’s far but I don’t think I can’t stand the city today. Gallagher: I’ve never really gone to the beach, but I dunno. Thought you might come with me. 🤷 Gallagher: Probably not your thing but thought I’d ask.

Mickey swallowed hard. He knew Ian rambled when he was nervous. He reread the messages 3 times over.

I missed ya.

Ian missed him.

They’d only spent one night apart in days. His reflex was to reply with something that was snarky. Or call it gay. But he couldn’t stop rereading it. He couldn’t even remember why he’d been mad before. He saw the 3 dots appear again, probably meaning more nervous rambling from Ian was on its way.

Mickey: Calm your tits Gallagher. Fine I’ll go to the fucking beach with you.

The three dots disappeared and reappeared.

Gallagher: Ya?? I’ll bring towels and snacks. Do you think they sell snacks there? Wanna meet me at the L in 30 mins?

Mickey: Better bring some sunscreen. I bet your freckled ass burns like a motherfucker.

---

An hour and a half later Mickey found himself standing in freshly purchased bathers in a place he never really pictured he’d be.

At the beach.

Stood next to a man who in this moment he really wanted to fucking kiss. He looked up at Ian who was standing in his bathing shorts and a white t-shirt. He held a hand up to shield his sunglass covered eyes and took in the scene before turning and grinning at Mickey.

“It’s nice!” Ian decided. “It’s hot. And crowded.” Mickey countered. He felt nervous. He couldn’t swim and didn’t know how to tell the redhead that. Which made it even more ridiculous he’d said yes to this plan in the first place. Fucking Ian. But the water did look cool and inviting.

Ian grinned at him, “Okay Mickey. We just need to cool you down.” Mickey’s stomach did an uncomfortable flip when Ian grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the water, their towels safely stowed under an umbrella behind them. Mickey followed a few feet behind, looking down at where their hands were clasped. In public. For anyone to see.

Ian pulled them until their toes touched the cool water. Mickey felt the sweet relief of the coolness sweep up him and he did feel better. He felt like he’d been hot for days.

“Oh god that’s nice.” Ian groaned beside him, tugging him a step further into the water and not releasing his hand. Mickey felt his blood speed south at the sound.

“Not sure you can make sounds like that here, Gallagher. These shorts don’t leave much to the imagination.” He hissed back.

Ian looked at him, his grin growing even wider, an evil glint in his eyes. “Oh? You’re that easy to get going, Mick?”

“Well no one was in my bed this morning to suck my dick so I'm a little on edge.” He grumped.

Ian’s eyebrows lifted and he chucked. All sorts of amused by Mickey’s grumpiness. It kind of blew Mickey’s mind, while everyone else in the world seemed to fear him and his moods, Ian seemed to take it as an invitation.

Ian let go of his hand then, pulled off his shirt and sunglasses and tossed them on the beach. Winked at Mickey and then ran a couple steps and dove into the water.

Mickey stepped backwards, hands up to shield himself from the splash.

Ian surfaced, flipping his red hair back, water pouring down his head and strong shoulders when he stood up again in the waist deep water. He looked hot as fuck. If the cool water hadn’t been enticing, Ian in it certainly was.

“Come on in, Mickey, the water’s fine.” He called.

Mickey took another tentative step in and stopped, “Think I’m all good here, Gallagher. Cooling down already.”

Ian frowned, a thought crossing his face. He walked over to Mickey and reached out, putting his hands on the brunette’s hips.

“Can you swim, Mick? I didn’t think to ask.” He asked quietly so no one could overhear. Mickey didn’t know how he always seemed to read his mind. Also he was being so considerate, how was this guy real.

He swallowed and without thinking answered honestly, “No man, when would I had had time to go to a pool. Who woulda taught me? My asshole Nazi Dad?” His cheeks burned red.

Ian nodded, Mickey had told him a bit about it.

“Right!” He said, decided. “Guess you’re just gonna have to trust me then.”

“Wha-?” Mickey started to ask but Ian had already grabbed his hand again and was pulling him gently into the water.

“Come on, Mick. I promise I’ve got you. You need to cool down.” He stopped their plight and turned around, “Do you trust me?” He asked, suddenly sincere.

Mickey looked into those green eyes and couldn’t help himself, his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. “Yeah, man, I trust you.”

“Good, come on then.” Ian said and pulled Mickey into the water.

When it got deep enough, Ian pulled Mickey towards him and made him wrap his arms around his neck.

Mickey couldn’t believe he was doing this in broad daylight with another man, but it just felt so good. Ian felt strong and his muscles hard in Mickey’s arms. Their chests pressed against each other, hearts beating against each other. The water was deliciously cool and refreshing, giving him a reprieve he hadn’t felt in days. He glanced around, there was no one near them in the water. He relaxed into it.

They floated together for a few mins, Ian’s long legs resting on the sand keeping them above water. Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian’s hips. Ian pulled him closer and nuzzled into his neck.

“Mmmm you smell good.” He mumbled. “I missed ya last night.” He said quietly. Mickey’s heart skipped a beat and then restarted at double the pace. He knew Ian could feel it with their chests pressed against each other under the water.

“Ya man, I, uh, missed ya too.” He mumbled back, the big feelings were back making his chest ache.

He didn’t get how Ian’d known. How he’d figured out exactly what Mickey had needed all day and made it happen. This wasn’t a sex thing, I mean the sex was fantastic but this was more. His heart felt like it was going to explode.

Ian pulled his face back and placed a chaste kiss to Mickey’s lips. He looked into Mickey’s eyes, an emotion shining there that Mickey knew was reflected in his. It felt too big, he didn’t feel ready to talk about it.

Ian opens his mouth to speak and closes it. Seemingly changing his mind.

“Wanna ditch work tonight? Just say fuck it. Stay around here, maybe get some tacos and beer?”

Mickey knows in that moment. Such a small thing. But it just hits him. He thinks he’s known for a while. But it’s in all the little moments of their day. Everything leading up to this moment.

Ian’s his soulmate.

[mybrainismelted]

ok, so this is my first publish gallavich fic - please go easy on me! A.U.gust Day 9 - College @gallavichthings

Ian is pretty sure he's never been this nervous in his life. The first day of College shouldn't be THAT big of a deal, right? But he's got butterflies he can't shake, and he thinks he might sweat right through his shirt before his first class is done.

"Breathe" he reminds himself as he searches for just the right seat - not too close to the front, not in the middle, and not too far back so he can't hear. Choosing a seat is serious business to the redhead.

Finally finding his perfect spot, he gets settled in and pulls out a notebook and pen. Finally taking some time to look around he feels his heart sink at the realization that everyone else seems to have fancy new laptops out and open. Shit.

"Ok, if I can have everyone's attention please?" he hears from the front of the room. "My name is Professor Micheals, but you can call me Brian. This is Mickey, my assistant. He will be available to answer any questions you may have."

Looking at where Brian is pointing, Ian feels his heart stop and then start racing at the sight of one of the most gorgeous men he has ever seen. Inky black hair, one eyebrow arched perfectly, and just a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth as he waves to the assembled class.

As the class moves on, Ian struggles to stay focused on scribbling notes as fast as he can, while his eyes keep wandering to see what Mickey is doing. Usually sitting and apparently paying attention to what Brian is saying, but occasionally Ian has to quickly avert his gaze when Mickey turns to scan over the students.

When the class finally ends, he scrambles to get out of the room, not wanting to risk giving himself away and causing problems for himself on the first day of class. This continues for the next few weeks, Ian unable to keep his eyes off Mickey in class, and spending his nights scolding himself for his ridiculous schoolboy crush. Unfortunately, there comes a day when Ian realizes he is going to have to talk to the man - they have a paper due, and he's pretty sure it has to be emailed. He's just not sure how to make that happen given his lack of access to any kind of computer.

After the next class he takes a deep breath, steels himself, and approaches the ever-so-delicious looking object of his nightly fantasies.

"Ummm, hi Mickey?" he mutters, not 100% sure he actually said it out loud. Mickey turns around and quirks that perfect eyebrow. "Yeah, hey Red, what can I do for you?"

Ian explains his dilemma, and that he needs some help figuring out how to get his assignment in on time. "Ok, yeah, I had that problem my first year too." Mickey explains "There's a laptop loan program through the library, but you have to sign up pretty early. Let's walk over there now and I'll show you how it all works, see if there is one available."

"Uh, yeah, ummm… sure" Is all Ian is able to stumble out as the shorter man packs up his stuff and turns to lead the way out of the room.

Mickey does his best to engage Ian in some small talk as they walk, obviously sensing that he is uncomfortable about something. As they talk, they are both surprised to realize that they are both from the South Side of Chicago - and probably knew a lot of the same people growing up. "Sure explains the no laptop thing" Mickey says as they approach the doors to the library "Not many from our neighbourhood can afford that kinda stuff when they first get here"

Unfortunately for Ian, as Mickey had suspected, there are no loaner laptops available for the next 2 weeks, which means Ian definitely can't get one in time to turn his paper in this Friday. "shit, shit, shit" he mutters, wracking his brain to see if there is a way he can scrape together the money to buy a used junker from someone and hope it works.

Mickey looks at him for a minute, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb, and finally blurts out "look, I don't normally do this, but if you wanna come by my place on Friday you can use my laptop to type it up and send it."

"Yeah?" Ian whispers, completely overwhelmed by the offer. "are you sure? I can bring beer and pizza, I'll find a way to pay you back for this, I promise!" At that, he thinks he sees a flicker of something in Mickey's eyes, right before he winks and replies "Oh I'm sure you'll think of something, man"

Ian feels himself flushing, and can't help but think as he takes down Mickey's address and phone number that maybe, just maybe, College isn't so scary after all.

[mmmichyyy]

a.u.gust 2023 - day 4: teacher(s)

1.5k words of shop teacher!mickey & school nurse!ian @gallavichthings 🖤 posted on ao3 too!

Faculty meetings are–in Mickey’s opinion–the bane of his entire existence. Completely unnecessary, redundant, a total bore. Just send it in an email for god’s sake. Especially when the meetings are scheduled at the ungodly hour of eight on Monday mornings, an entire half an hour before he usually arrives at school. Well, twenty-nine minutes, to be exact - if the first class starts at eight-thirty and it takes him a minute to rush from the parking lot to the shop classroom, then he’ll show up right as the bell rings, not a minute more.

Except the new bright-eyed and bushy-tailed principal went to some new-age educational conference over the summer and came back brimming with ideas of bonding and connecting amongst faculty members. How important it was to foster a community and create an open forum and a safe space for communication–her words, not Mickey’s. 

As if any of the underpaid teachers give a flying fuck about any of that. None of them would've gone to the first meeting and continued to attend week after week without the bribe of free bagels and the not-so-subtle suggestion of possibly taking away the one good vending machine from the teacher’s lounge. The threat of losing easily accessible corn nuts and milk duds really was the reason why every person working at this underfunded Southside high school had to suffer through thirty minutes of mandatory torture every week. 

Mickey worked there for two years and never laid eyes on half the staff at the school or knew anyone’s name until these meetings. He stays in the shop classroom all day, makes sure none of the students drill a hole through their hand or cut themselves on a hacksaw, then goes home. But now, everyone from the basketball coach to the art teacher to even the goddamn janitor had to attend and endure the principal babbling about upcoming school events and ways to improve the school–like time and resources aren’t already limited as it is. 

What a colossal waste of time, Mickey grumbles to himself, as he strolls through the main doors of the school after smashing snooze multiple times on his alarm clock and begrudgingly getting his ass out of bed. 

At least his on-the-fritz coffee machine decided to work today, or else he may be prone to commit murder without caffeine this early in his system. 

But to Mickey’s luck, he doesn’t get two steps into the foyer before slipping on an invisible wet patch on the linoleum floor, crashing forward into what his mind registers for a split-second as a moving wall, which he practically bounces off of, if it's even possible to bounce off a solid surface. The impact causes him to stumble backwards and nearly collide against the glass trophy display case. 

“Fu– watch where you’re going!” 

“Oh shit, are you okay??” 

Mickey rolls his shoulders with a groan. Just as he’s about to unleash hell, he looks up to a pair of worried green eyes staring right at him. Turns out the walls aren’t out to get him - not this time at least - it’s a person. Not just any person, a man who is built like a fucking brick barricade with a firm taut body and fierce red hair that nearly causes Mickey’s jaw to drop in surprise.

“Uh…” Words. What are words? He didn’t hit his head, did he? Why can’t his mind form coherent thoughts?

Unaware of Mickey’s temporary brain daze, the redhead continues to ramble in an apologetic voice, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been blocking the entrance, it’s my first day and I’m a bit lost–”

“It’s fine,” Mickey mumbles, cutting the guy off. Not that he cares if he’s late to the faculty meeting, but he needs to not be here right now. But before he can make a quick exit–

“Do you know where the teacher’s lounge is?” 

Huh. A new teacher. With a body like that? Probably another meathead coach, Mickey thinks. To save his ego from continuing to make a fool of himself, Mickey wordlessly nods towards the east hallway, silently signalling the man to follow him. The man does, a bit too enthusiastically, much to Mickey’s chagrin.

Mickey hopes Clifford the Big Red Dog isn’t a talker. The teacher’s lounge is at the end of the hall around the corner and there’s only so much conversation Mickey can handle early in the morning. Especially after sustaining a possible phantom head injury. Especially after almost falling flat on his face in front of someone who looks like that.

But you know what they say about hope - it breeds eternal misery.

“Never thought I’d be back at high school,” the man chuckles. “But I saw the job posting online and thought, what the hell? Might be fun.”

Fun is definitely not the word Mickey would use to describe working at a high school. The very high school he dropped out from, actually. Life has a twisted sense of humour sometimes, but he’s made his peace with his current reality a long time ago.

“Are you a teacher here?” the man presses on.

Mickey grunts as a response. Quickens his pace, but the man doesn’t take the hint.

“What do you teach?” 

Only a few steps left... 

“Shop class.”

“Oh cool! I’m the new–” 

“There you are, Mr. Milkovich.” Ms. Tinsley, the principal, peeks her head out of the door to the teacher’s lounge. Looks behind Mickey and beams. “And Mr. Gallagher! I’m glad you’re here, I was starting to worry you might’ve gotten lost.”

Gallagher? Mickey furrows his brows. The name sounds vaguely familiar, but then again - half the Irish population in Chicago probably has the same last name. 

“I was, but then I bumped into Mr. Milkovich here and he led the way.” Gallagher flashes Mickey a grin, and Mickey tries to ignore the somersault flip inside his chest. “Hope I’m not too late.”

Ms. Tinsley shakes her head. “You’re just in time, I was just about to start the meeting.” She turns to Mickey. “Mr. Gallagher here is replacing Mrs. Farris since she’s gone into early retirement. Fell down the stairs and broke her hip, the poor thing. ” 

Retirement? Mickey doesn’t remember seeing any of the sports coaches being geriatric enough to retire. Or maybe he’s not paying enough attention to the stupid faculty meetings.

Seeing the confusion on his face, Ms. Tinsley adds, “Mrs. Farris, the school nurse.” 

A lightbulb clicks in Mickey’s head. Must’ve been the grouchy old woman with the Q-tip head and a permanent scowl on her face he used to see roaming the halls. He just assumed it was someone’s grandma who had gotten loose from the senior home and got her rocks off yelling at anyone in her way. Did the old bat fall down the stairs or was she pushed? The latter seems more plausible.

“Anyway,” Ms. Tinsley continues, “Mr. Gallagher here will be taking over as the new school nurse. I might get him to teach a couple health classes too, god knows these crazy kids need proper sex health education!” Both she and Gallagher laugh while Mickey cringes.

“I’d be glad to,” Gallagher replies with a smile. Glances at Mickey out of the corner of his eye. “Sex education is very important.”

No. Not today. Nope. Mickey slips past the principal through the door and quickly plops down on his usual seat in the back corner, silently praying the heat he feels under his skin isn’t reflective of how red his cheeks are. What the hell has gotten into him? 

And because the universe is fucking with him, the only empty seat left is directly beside him. Mickey stares straight ahead and pointedly avoids Gallagher’s gaze as the principal starts the meeting.

“First thing on the agenda: the school bake sale! Who wants to volunteer?”

“Hey,” Gallagher whispers in a low voice, so only Mickey can hear him above the surrounding chatter, “my first name’s Ian by the way.” Leans in close, hot breath fanning Mickey’s ear, sending a shiver down Mickey’s spine. “Maybe you can show me around sometime?”

Mickey should ignore him. Ian. Pretend to be fascinated by fundraisers or pep rallies or whatever the fuck Ms. Tinsley is droning on about. Definitely not focus on the hopeful tone in his voice. Tell Ian to fuck off and leave him alone, like everyone else in the school has learned to do.

But maybe Mickey woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. Or the right one? Or he’s in an alternate reality? Or maybe someone drugged his coffee this morning? 

Or maybe it’s his lucky day?

Because against his better judgement, Mickey angles his head to the side. Pretends to be nonchalant and shrugs in agreement. Tries to bite down his own smile from seeing the way Ian’s face entirely lights up, all eager and warm and full of light.

Maybe eternal misery isn’t the only outcome to spring from hope.

[scurvgirl]

It's Pirate Day for A.U.gust! Thank you @gallavichthings for hosting :)

**

"Cap'n, we got a situation below deck," Iggy, Mickey’s first mate by default, said. He crooked an eyebrow at his brother before sighing and stepping away from the bow. 

"Keep her on course, Mandy," he said before following Iggy down into the hold. 

What once was rat infested and stinking during the ownership of Mickey’s father was now clean and relatively well taken care of. While he wasn't the cleanest of individual persons, he didn't want fucking rats sinking his damn ship from the inside. He gave a passing scritch to one of the ship cats, One-Eyed Betty, as continued thanks for all her hard work. 

Iggy led Mickey into the hold where they were "shipping cargo" and gestured to a large barrel. Ah. A situation indeed. 

Mickey sauntered over to a barrel, kicked it. "This one's a bit heavy, best throw it overboard or it'll slow us down, aye?"

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Such a shame, bet whatever is in here would fetch a pretty price at port."

He listened. Nothing. He listened longer. Ah, a sniffle.

Mickey picked up a crowbar and popped the lid off the barrel with ease. He looked inside and grinned, "A mighty fine price indeed." Inside was a man, probably tall the way he was scrunched up, redheaded and covered in freckles. 

"Please, sir, I didn’t mean-

"You thought to stow away on a ship, get free passage from whatever shit hole you crawled out of. But lad, sorry to say You chose the wrong boat."

"What?"

Mickey grinned, "Welcome aboard the King's Ransom. You're a pirate now."

[jackdanielsxorangejuice]

Holy shit how come it's August already!! I missed the first few days of A.U.gust 2023 by @gallavichthings and today I'm in the thrones of goddamn norovirus so I only did a couple of quick sketches but I just wanted to participate so much even though I have a fever and other nasty very things but ANYWAY

So these are early seasons Gallavich gals and I have some headcanons about them:

Teenage Mickey has long hair even though she absolutely hates it, but she is still in the closet and tries to conform to gender roles just so no one gets any ideas that she's actually a lesbian. So she wears it on a braid because that's the closest she can get to having long hair without it getting on her nerves all the time. (Of course hair length doesn't make anyone a lesbian or straight, but you know. Closeted Mickey.) Later when she gets comfortable with herself she cuts it and Ianna supports it wholeheartedly.

Teenage Ianna on the other hand is still in ROTC and she has a cute pixie cut to go with her army look. I have no idea what the hair regulations are in the ROTC but this is what I went with. (And yes, she does have a right arm too, it's somewhere in there. Don't look too closely. Or if you do, focus on her freckles.)

[look-i-love-u]

AU-gust | Day 6 - Genderswap

I loved @gallawitchxx wonderful A.U.gust - Day 6 - drabble and felt a familiar and long missing tingle of excitement when I read it. Sadly it didn't kick off into me going back to writing an actual fic (one can only hope it happens soon). But I did write an accompanying drabble from Mickey's POV. Baby steps. I'm taking them at this point...

||

This is a mistake. You know it the moment you walk into the diner. Fucking Tinder.

The only redeeming thing about this is the red-head sitting in your line of sight.

She’s sunshine, carefree laughter and a green sweater sliding off her shoulder.

You miss her instantly when she gets up - her coat left on her chair..

A smoker then. Fuck, you like her.

You leave Chatty-Cathy without a word and follow Red into the cold. 

You’ve got to shoot your shot. 

You touch her hand when she holds out her lighter. 

She shivers. 

And you finally start to smile.

[darthvaders-wife]

AUgust DAY 23 - Pirate🏴‍☠️

For challenge by @gallavichthings 🖤

[gallawitchxx]

A.U.gust 2023 | DAY THREE - Body Swap

thanks to @gallavichthings for hosting! 🥳

“Damn! So this is what it feels like to have a fuckin’ bratwurst swingin’ around down there?” Mickey proudly shakes Ian’s hips. 

Ian could explode. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now? Really?”

A cocked ginger brow. “You oughta be thinkin’ ‘bout it too.” A bite of a freckled lip. “On account ‘a you bein’ me.”

That’s interesting.

Ian—Mickey—focuses his frayed attention on that spot deep inside him. The one that likes it good and hard. A wave of want crashes through him.

“Alright, tough guy,” he drawls. “You wanna chit chat or you wanna get on me?”

[sisitrip]

For the @gallavichthings event A.U.gust 2023 prompt "Cyberpunk", I offer "B8ted Breath."

Thank you @gallavichthings and the people behind that tag for hosting! I don't know what this is, but whatever it does turn out to be, I had fun.

Housekeeping:

Funerarium - Funeral Home

Gravecodes - Condensed data containing video/audio of the deceased that can only be viewed in my dystopian funerarium.

Rig-mech - A terraforming machine technician who works on rigs used to make inhabitable outposts, habitable.

_____________________

Ian heads into the funerarium’s Reflection Room, a glass encased dome filled with fake flowers and a dry fountain sitting in the middle of its large space. He’s made coming here a habit after a gravecode visit. A sort of cherry on the morbid cake of his self flagellation. 

He takes a seat on the ring of the fountain and pulls out a small, collapsible metal cup and a mini carton of milk. As always, he feels dumb doing this, but it comforts him after a rough viewing.

He’s pouring the milk into the cup when a B8 CL-WS unit glides noiselessly into the room. Boxy and sitting atop soundless rubber wheels, it rolls around cleaning non-existent dust off the floor. He smiles, thinking not for the first time that this particular cleaning unit looks a little like a robotic military tank.  

“Shit,” he curses softly as he overflows his cup and it spills on the floor. The B8 immediately makes a beeline for him. He lifts his feet as the unit’s small, microfiber pad swipes through the liquid then blows heated air to dry what's left. 

He laughs knowing he must look ridiculous with his feet hanging above the floor and his dumb collapsible cup raised in an awkward toast. The unit goes on blowing warm air, unmoving. This is the longest wipe and dry he’s ever seen. He couldn’t have spilled that much. 

“Uh, I think it’s dry now,” he says. 

The B8 just continues blowing air and he can feel it sliding uncomfortably up his pant legs. Great. It’s malfunctioning.

“Area sanitized. Retract.” 

The unit doesn’t move.

“Um, retract,” he tries again, legs starting to ache in their raised position. “C’mon, retract dopey.”

Nothing. 

Ian notices the code on the unit’s exterior has been altered. An ‘A’ has been scratched over the dash between the CL and WS. Despite his irritation, he laughs. It’s probably been done before, but for some reason, seeing that silly CLAWS etched into this broken cleaning unit is what he’d needed. 

“Claws my ass, you box of junk. I should give you a kick,” he chuckles. 

“I wouldn’t do that. She's been retrofitted with a mini-flame thrower.”

The voice startles him so badly, he falls backward into the fountain, cup flying. He bounces his head off an ornate cherub and sees stars.

“Jesus fuck!” he shouts, flailing as he tries to get out of the fountain without kicking the stupid B8 unit that was now whizzing back and forth over the newly spilled mess. 

A hand braces itself on the rim of the fountain, bearing faded knuckle tattoos that spelled “FUCK.” He stares at it dizzily, fascinated by how menacing that hand looked despite its small size. 

“If you’re thinking of taking a bath in this thing, it ain’t gonna happen, Cherry.”

A man, sporting a black military cap atop longish dark locks, peers down at Ian with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen this close. The looming man’s expression was equal parts amused and irritated as he held out his other hand.

Ian takes it and lets himself be hauled to his feet to properly look at his rescuer. This man was no more than 5’7” with a small, but compact frame and not the hulking menace he thought he was. Not usually Ian’s type, but those eyes. They were something. 

He stares a little too long and the man snaps his fingers in front of his face. 

“How hard did you ring your bell, man?” 

Caught without an excuse for gazing longingly, Ian's face warms.

“That thing almost burned the hairs off my legs,” he complains, reaching down for his cup only to have the B8 snag it with a hook and toss it into a compartment on its back. “For Christ’s sake!”

The man rubs a finger across his ridiculously kissable mouth, chuckling quietly. Despite his irritation, Ian finds himself fighting an answering smile. 

“The fuck you expect a cleaning unit to do?” the man scolds. “You drop shit, it picks it up.” 

Ian rubs the small lump that’s starting to swell on the back of his head, anger flaring at the less than contrite attitude. 

“I didn’t drop a damn thing. It flew out of my hand when you ninja'd out of thin air.” He glares at the man, noting his uniform, an all black jumpsuit bearing the name of the facility. “You work for Obriad?”

“That’s what the jumpsuit says.” 

The man leans down, presses a series of buttons on the underside of the B8 and it takes off, zooming away towards a black door partially obscured by two huge, fake palms. The unit stops at the door, waiting patiently, like a dog. 

“Then you might want to take that unit out of commission until it can be repaired,” Ian suggests, drinking the milk and taking in the tattoos on the man’s other hand. He snorts. Fuck U-Up. This one's a walking, talking poet. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that B8. You spilled milk and it kept cleaning until it was dry. No use crying about it,” the man says, as if he's addressing a child. 

Angry and at a loss for words, Ian drains the milk, taking in the man’s half smile that could be flirtatious or condescending. It feels like both. He regroups.

“I'm not going to argue about a faulty B8. Just try not to have it burn the hair off anyone else’s legs.” 

He turns to walk away and is stopped by the snottiest intonation he’s ever heard. 

“Sir, yes sir. Obriad extends its sincerest apologies, Mr. ...?” 

Ian allows himself a quick grin before turning to look haughtily over his shoulder. Yeah, that smile he’d been confused about earlier? Definitely flirty.

“Gallagher. And you’re …?” 

“Devastated by your displeasure.” 

Ian laughs and that seems to please this exasperating man who continues. 

“It's Milkovich. I run operations here and rest assured, your leg hair will be safe from now on.” 

Ian gets a smile that eclipses every light in the room. Hell.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Mr. Milkovich.” 

He gives a short, weird wave, suddenly unsure of how his hands work. Neck burning, he walks quickly to the e-lifts, silently cursing his inability to ever play it cool.

“It's Mickey.” 

The softly called name reaches him at the doorway of the Reflection Room. He turns and Mickey is walking backwards toward that palm framed door, hands in his pockets. Ian considers for less than a second before offering his own name.

“Ian.”

Mickey touches the bridge of his cap and salutes him in an exaggerated farewell worthy of a sultan. Ian huffs a soft laugh and heads to the e-lift. After depressing his thumb to the location pad, it opens. 

He spends the quick descent and vertical shifts to his transport thinking about how Mickey seemed less like a funerarium operations director and more like a rig-mech. Gruff and teasing, his demeanor was better suited for that kind of rough outpost work. Ian should know. He'd bedded more than a few of them. 

The transport calculates the best route home and it's only halfway there that he realizes he's left his cup. He tells himself that he has to remember to ask Mickey for it on his next visit. It was everyone's duty to keep waste to a minimum, right? Retrieving a perfectly usable cup was the responsible thing to do. Honor demands it.

He looks at his reflection in the impenetrable plexishield of the window and the smile he wears is unique if for no other reason than it's a first on many levels. 

It's the first time he's smiled in months. The first time he's smiled in this stupid transport he'd inherited from Monica. 

More importantly, it's the first time he's ever smiled after a gravecode viewing. 

He stares unseeing at the dry, rundown landscape of the approaching outpost and can't decide if this development is a good thing or cause for concern.

He shrugs. It doesn't matter. It feels good and that’s so rare for him, he savors it. 

Maybe finding something to smile about in a funerarium is sacrilege. Maybe it’s not.

Whatever it is, he’ll be back next month if only to see those blue eyes again.

[blue-disco-lights]

A.U.gust 2023 ✨ Day 14: Hallmark

@gallavichthings said Hallmark, and I very happily started my image search for this mood board. Because can you imagine...

When Ian Gallagher graduates high school, he packs his bags and says goodbye and good riddance! to his small hometown. After he graduates with his law degree, he moves to New York City to start a lucrative, but high-stress job in a big corporate firm... he loves his life and all the perks that come with it ... but one day a distressing phone call from his sister Debbie calls him back home... because the Gallagher Pumpkin Patch & Christmas Tree Farm, a business in the family for generations, is in danger of being shut down because a greedy developer wants to turn the land into a giant strip mall. Ian's OK with selling the damn thing to wash his hands of Frank's legacy forever... but only one man - the prickly, easily-agitated farm manager Mickey Milkovich - can convince Ian that it's all worth saving....

[gallavichthings]

Hi! Excited for AUgust! Can I ask what Hallmark means? Like those movies or the card company? Thanks

Like the cheesy Christmas movies!

[mybrainismelted]

A.U.gust 2023, Day 29 - Office

Mickey seriously hates his office mate. Dude is always fucking cheerful, playing stupid pop songs and dancing in his chair, and thinks they need to "bond" or some shit. Constantly asking him questions, inviting him to go for coffee or lunch. Guy just can't take a hint.

Sure he's hot as hell, and obviously knows it. And maybe Mickey has spent a few lonely evenings fantasizing about the day he spilled coffee on his shirt and stripped it off right there in the office to change into a spare. But fuck, he's annoying.

Take today - Mickey had a major deadline coming up, and a shitload of work to finish. But would Gallagher notice or care that he wants some fucking quiet to concentrate? Noooo. He literally BOUNCED into the office, blabbing something about how he spent his evening that Mickey was completely not paying attention to. Dropped himself down in the extra chair across from Mickey's desk and proceeded to ask him a million fucking questions about his night, his plans for the weekend… totally not dismayed or turned off by Mickey's one-word grunted replies.

After he finally went to sit as his own desk, he sat there and muttered to himself for like 20 minutes straight. UGH. Asked Mickey if he wanted to go for coffee. Talked about some company function coming up that Mickey couldn't care less about. Actually fucking FOLLOWED him to the break room when he finally tried to escape by going to get his lunch. Mickey noticed some of their co-workers smiling at the two of them, or giving them knowing looks - what the hell is that all about?

Then…. apparently the annoying redhead forgot his headphones, so he was blasting some crappy Katy Perry or some shit out loud in the office. FUCK! How is he supposed to concentrate when Gallagher is bopping around the office like that looking like pure sex on a stick?

Now Mickey is sitting in his livingroom, giving up his evening to try to finish his work, and he still can't get that annoying fucker out of his head. He drops his laptop on the sofa beside him, and grabs his phone to text the only friend he has at work.

Mickey: Do you think the boss would let me switch offices with someone? I need to get out of there.

Jess: WTF? Did you and Ian break up?

Mickey: Fuck are you talking about? I can't stand that fucker.

Jess: Wait, really? Just the way he always talks about you, and the way you guys look at each other, everyone thinks you're dating.

Mickey:…

Picks up the phone and dials. "What the absolute fuck Jess? What the hell would make anyone think we're dating??"

"Ok, chill out. It's just that he talks all the time about how funny you are, how smart… and then like you guys are always checking each other out, staring at each other. You seriously don't like him at all?" Jess sounds absolutely dumbfounded.

"Not gonna deny that the guy's hot Jess, we've both got eyes. But he's annoying as hell! Always trying to talk to me and shit." huffs Mickey. "Always distracting me so I can't get my work done, telling me stupid jokes, guy has absolutely no chill. How is anyone supposed to work with his sexy ass sitting there making puppy dog eyes at you? And now I can't even get my work done at home because I'm thinking about him!"

"Mick? Are you sure you don't have a little crushy crush?" giggled Jess "You sure sound like someone with a crush on his hot office mate"

"What the… fucking…. fuck." muttered Mickey "Fuck, Jess, I think I might have a crush on Gallagher. Fuck. Now what?"

"Mickey, babe - you have a couple of options here. You go into the office tomorrow, asked for an office switch, and try to avoid him forever. Or you go into the office tomorrow, put on your big boy pants, and ask him out. Your choice hun, but damn, if he wasn't 100% gay, I would be climbing that man like a tree" Jess says with an obvious smirk in her voice. "Now go get some work done and stop thinking about being bent over your desk" she giggles again and disconnects the call.

Fuck…. Mickey drops his head into his hands as he tries to come to terms with the fact that he apparently has a huge gay crush on Ian fucking Gallagher.

After tossing and turning all night, Mickey drags his exhausted ass into the office the next morning, happy to see he beat Gallagher in so he might be able to get a few minutes of work done. He walks past Jess on his way to the break room to get some much needed coffee, and rolls his eyes as she makes kissy faces at him. "fuck off" he mutters so only she can hear, and stomps away.

He's settled back into his desk, staring blankly at the screen, when Gallagher finally bounces in with a cheerful "Good morning Mickey!"

"Gallagher." He acknowledges, feeling his shoulders tense. Then he sighs, braces himself, and says "Look, man… we need to talk. Can you sit down for a minute?"

Ian's face falls, and he quietly sits down, just watching Mickey, uncertainty written all over his face. "Sure Mick. Did I do something?"

Mickey just looks at him for a beat, then shakes his head, and finally manages to reply "Nah, man, you didn't do anything wrong. But did you know everyone in the office apparently thinks we are dating?"

"Shit." Ian seems as surprised as Mickey was. "I knew they were saying something, but didn't expect it to be that. I'm sorry. This is probably my fault. My family always tells me I talk to much, they used to call me 'play what cool Ian'. Shit. I'll sort this out."

"Ian - just stop for a minute." Mickey interrupts to stop the obvious spiral he can see happening in front of him. "I have a better idea. Instead of trying to get them to stop, why don't we just…. give it a try? Like, we could go out this weekend? Or not, you know, whatever you want to do is fine too.." realizing he is starting to ramble, Mickey stops and takes a breath, before looking up to see Ian's dumbfounded face.

"Yeah?" Ian breathes

"Yeah, man…. seems like you're kinda under my skin"

Ian sits completely frozen for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only about 30 seconds, before he jumps up, leans across Mickey's desk and pulls him in for what may be the hottest kiss of his life.

"Yeah, I think we should definitely do that." Ian mumbles against his lips. "But I'm not waiting until the weekend. We're going for dinner tonight, and then I'm gonna show you all the things I've been fantasizing about doing to you for months"

@gallavichthings