Permanently Untitled

Soooo I just posted chapter 15 of Elite Fantasy: Together

Start from Chapter 1.

Go straight to Chapter 15.

it's a long one (by my count, at least).

A little announcement: The posting schedule will change from every 2 weeks to every 3 weeks. All complaints can be directed to my bosses, and like, real life. So, yeah. Not abandoned, not in hiatus, I just need more time between chapters to write, edit and post.

Hope you guys have a good weekend!

Look at me getting my @galladrabbles submission in before the wrap up! Thanks to @katicusdramaticus for this prompt.

The sad thing about always being late to drabble is I see everyone's wonderful ideas and don't want to feel like I'm copying. But after struggling I decided not to overthink it and go with some fluffy husbands.

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It's all fun and games until someone (Ian) flings sand in Mickey's cocktail. The thing cost a fortune and now it's gritty because the idiot's digging a moat around his fucking sandcastle.

Fucker's gonna pay.

"Mick? Mick, stop. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

Mickey launches across the sandcastle to jump on his giant husband. Ian swivels away, Mickey giving chase as he sprints across the sand.

He heads towards the waves. Big mistake. When he's close enough, Mickey tackles him into the surf. Sweet victory.

"Asshole," Ian laughs.

Mickey pecks him on the lips.

Forewarning: As you could’ve guessed, this one is pretty dirty. In fact, I’ll probably never recover from writing some of these words. You’ll know which ones I mean. Damn it, Shameless, why are these things canon?!

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They were talking again. Loud, like they didn’t give two shits who could hear them, even though the house was full of people.

Lately, it’d become almost nonstop, and Debbie had just about enough of it – and them.

“Take it, you insatiable slut!” 

“Yes, fuckin’ impale me with your monster cock!”

As she stood behind the closed accordion door, which frankly did nothing to silence all the bizarre exclamations and assorted sex noises, she scrunched her face in disgust. Thankfully, her ears only felt like they were bleeding, and the real damage was happening just to her inner calm.

This time, Ian and Mickey were going at it at half past seven on a Sunday, throwing around words that would make even the creators of bad pornos cringe. 

They’d been on her shitlist ever since she found several dried come stains on her lilac bath robe, and really, her frustration with them only grew stronger from there. It was one thing that they apparently made sex into a full-time hobby; sounding like absolute perverts throughout their daily (and nightly) numerous rounds was another. 

Debbie could take it no more. She was long past the point of finding it funny. There were now very specific, lewd details about her older brother forever embedded in her mind – and she fondly looked back at the days when Ian was still behind bars and dearly missed.

Checking that her palm was covering Franny’s eyes, she squeezed her own eyes tightly before getting a blind hold on the accordion door. She yanked it open, immediately causing the verbal vomit to stop.

“The actual fuck, Debbie!” 

i've been thinking about any gay couple from the 19th century who are on an island for some reason and have the beach as their refuge. so this is what it's inspired by: Mickey lives on the island and works on a boat, Ian has been forced to stay there because of his mental health issues that no one understands and they want to confine him. they meet on the beach. they see each other there every day.

--------- ★ THE BEACH

The fresh breeze stirred his reddish hair, covered in salt from the sea. He looked at it as if wanting to run.

Mickey buried his feet deeper into the white sand.

"You think one day there'll be something more than this beach, Mick?"

The older looked at him. Shoulders together, silent brush.

"I've traveled. There's a lot more out there."

Ian turned his head. "And you like this one?"

Mickey's lips curled softly, waves breaking slowly against the rocks. "It's the most beautiful."

thank you @galladrabbles and @katicusdramaticus for "the beach" prompt

Mickey had always dreamed of going to the beach with Ian.  On those lonely nights in Mexico, with his feet buried in the sand and his umpteenth beer, he would try not to cry over a dream he knew would never come true.

But now he was here…they were here.  After all the obstacles they had somehow managed to make it to the beach.  And it was better than anything he could have ever dreamed of.  

Mickey’s reverie was broken with a giggle and droplets of water as Ian used Ruby’s tiny feet to splash him. 

(It's funny that I was recently asked the same question on Instagram 😄) I mostly draw digitally, using Photoshop and custom pencil brushes.

I also draw traditionally on paper with pencils, retouching pencils and natural charcoal - that's my favorite 💖

I can paint with watercolors, oils, and soft pastels.

The time she offered Fiona a job as a prostitute will NEVER not be funny to me I loved it.

She’s just so committed to her child, like he’s the only one she really, really cares for and she will go through embarrassment and humiliation and cruelty for that boy. Yev is the only person I think she really selflessly cares about and I just love seeing her with him

I also thought her and V were hella cute she just seemed really happy with V

Plus her and Mickey are so fucking funny together like I wish we’d seen more of them, they’re so headstrong and powerful and once they started getting along they were so great

I mean I get why Mickey didn’t like her at first ENTIRELY, don’t get me wrong

he still has no problem shaking people’s hands. he doesn’t seem to think about it much, at least from what mickey’s seen. when he’s bored or stressed, he’ll spin their wedding ring around and around in circles. He doesn’t realise he’s doing it, mickey knows that much.

mickey likes ian’s hands.

they’re bigger than his, a lot bigger, all freckled and pale. there’s a sweet warmth whenever ian grabs his hands, something attractive and heated about how mickey’s hands are swallowed up by Ian’s.

ian never minds when mickey follows the divots and bumps of the burn scars with his thumb and fingers. mickey’s not sure if he even notices. The skin is roughened and has bursts of raised tissue with bolts of white streaks running through them.

mickey recalls when ian did it. he remembers coming home to ian’s hand bandaged up and no explanation about it. not until years had gone by.

it reminds him, those burns, the scar from the army too, of what could happen if ian went off his meds again. it scares mickey, that thought, sometimes. but more often than not, he puts the fears aside and tries instead to consider how much mickey wants to keep ian from getting hurt again.

it’s dark in their bedroom, moonlight tipping in from the window. ian’s arm is slung over mickey’s shoulders and mickey stops gripping his wrist in favour of pressing his thumb into the coarse skin in the pads of his palms and fronts of his fingers.

ian hums, and mickey can feel his chest rumble with it.

‘you like my scars.’ ian points out, inebriated by sleep.

mickey grunts back in something between confirmation and disagreement. he doesn’t like them, because that sounds as if mickey enjoys that ian was hurt which he doesn’t. but he also does like them, because they’re a part of ian and mickey enjoys the closeness they have that mickey can run his fingers over them without any discomfort.

‘you like when i do this?’ mickey asks, running his finger tips along the scars.

ian leans into his hair, breathing him in and nudging his forehead against the back of mickey’s head.

‘mhm.’ he hums in assent. ‘relaxing.’ he explains.