With season 10 on the horizon, I thought it was time to put out some feelers to see who’s interested in doing another round of the Shameless Big Bang! Please fill out this super brief survey and reblog this post so I can see who wants in!
Pairing: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich (Gallavich)
Fandom: Shameless US
AO3: 1, 2, 3, 4
Summary: Will we ever have it all figured out?
A/N: Apologies for the long wait. I'll try my darndest to make sure that I don't take so long to post next (and likely last) chapter.
You might know that I've turned my energies to developing my original work, including my newest OTP. I was thinking of making a little introduction for them so you can meet my current obsession and get a feel for the world I'm trying to build. I figure I'd post it on tumblr so you guys can take a gander and give some feedback if so inclined. Would anyone be interested in that? Let me know. Anyway, enough of that. Thanks for your indulgence and patience, and I'll get on with it. ♥
The Pursuit of Happiness
“Did you know I have a thing for redheads?”
Mickey curled a lock of Ian’s hair around his finger as the latter rested his head on Mickey’s chest. Mickey grinned as Ian sniffed self-importantly.
“Of course, because of me.”
Mickey laughed, “Oh fuck you and your ego; that didn’t start with you.”
Ian remained unconvinced but let Mickey continue uninterrupted. “I’ve always had a thing for carrot tops. I will give it to you though; you are, hands down, the best one I’ve ever seen.”
“Naturally.”
“I remember the first time I saw you,” Mickey continued musing, “you guys were just blowing up and you were on the cover of some nerd bible in the store I was trying to knock over.”
“Did you swipe it?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
“Did you get a lot of use out of it?” Ian asked, grinning against Mickey’s chest.
“Don’t make it sound so cheap; glossy Ian and I had a beautiful and passionate relationship,” Mickey replied. “But yeah, you are definitely the best redhead there is. Even back then, I don’t know, I didn’t think I had preferences within the preference, but yours was just perfect somehow. The perfect shade…”
Ian grinned harder and snuggled closer to Mickey, beyond pleased with the praise and the current mood. That is until Mickey continued talking.
“So you can imagine how upset I’d be if in some vainglorious attempt to cling to youth or what have you, someone were to mess with this very specific, exactly perfect shade of red that I love so very much.”
Ian sat up abruptly and immediately began his breathless defence. “What the fuck, did Lip say something to you?! I went in there for some aspirin, did he tell you that?! I can’t help what’s in the aisle when I try to get from A to B. You got an issue; take it up with the floor manager—”
“Lip didn’t tell me shit,” Mickey cut in coolly.
“Then how did you—”
“Because I know you, and you’re an idiot,” Mickey explained. “Are you seriously making a thing out of a couple of grey hairs? When did you get this vain?”
“Vain?!” Ian sputtered, “I’m being vain?! Did you or did you not just spend the last three minutes slowly getting hard over the utter, ‘specific’ perfection of my hair?!”
“Well yeah, but…”
“Me being a redhead has always been a big deal to you, and it’s growing out of my head, so naturally it’s always been a big deal to me. I don’t know if you know this, but greying is a continuous process. It’s not going to stop when I look wizened and distinguished. All this?” Ian said, waving a hand over the entirety of his head, “is going to disappear into a cloud of grey one day without intervention. So what then?”
“So then I’ll be way into silver foxes,” Mickey said with a grin, “I think Anderson Cooper’s been grey his entire life, you think I’d kick him out of bed? I mean, right? Anderson Cooper’s still super hot, yeah?”
“Do...do you really think this is the time to expound on the hotness of Anderson Cooper, you unbelievable twat?”
“Just making a point,” Mickey said quickly. “Dumbass, I think your hair is perfect because it happens to be growing out of your head. I’d have thought it was perfect no matter what shade it actually was.”
“So then a dye job would be no big deal…”
“Oh fuck yes it would,” Mickey retorted, “I’m used to that colour and I want to see it like that for as long as possible. Natural reds are tricky as hell. You start fucking around with it and next thing I know I’m going to feel like I’m getting nailed by a Stephen King villain.”
“Is that a Pennywise reference?” Ian asked dryly.
“If it is, what of it?”
“That hasn’t been topical in like ten years.”
“Maybe not, but it’s still applicable. Ian, I’m not fucking around, leave your hair alone or I will be pissed.”
“Fine!” Ian said huffily and settled back into his earlier position with his head atop Mickey’s chest.
“Besides,” Mickey continued trying to smooth Ian’s ruffled feathers as he stroked his hair, “you don’t want the hassle of maintaining a dye job. That shit’s like a prison sentence sometimes.”
“How would you know?” Ian pouted.
“You know, on the account of how me and Mandy are actually natural blondes.”
Ian’s head shot up so fast it was a miracle he didn’t get whiplash. Mickey promptly burst out laughing at his idiot’s gobsmacked expression. “Jesus Christ, you cannot be this easy. I’m fucking with you. You practically live inside my ass; I’m sure you’d notice if my roots needed a touch up.” Mickey kept laughing as Ian eyed him suspiciously even as the latter was settling back down again. “See, not so fun when your SO messes with your mind's eye.”
“Cuddle time is supposed to be stress free, Mickey.”
“Not even going to try to find a better name for this, are you?” Mickey sighed.
“What would you even look like as a blond?” Ian mused. “You’re so pale. You’d be walking around looking like you had a bright idea all the time.”
“You saying I’d have a light bulb head?” Mickey laughed.
“Or you’d look like Casper,” Ian said.
“Whatever, I’d make it work.”
“Yeah, you probably would.”
Mickey shuffled through the mail as he headed towards Ian who was standing sipping his morning coffee, staring serenely out a window.
“It’s like the year 3000; who is still sending us paper mail?” Mickey mused before tossing the mail on the table and slapping Ian on the ass. He followed Ian’s eyes to take in a window washer who seemed to be struggling mightily with his setup outside their condo. “Weren’t those just cleaned? Did we get any notifications about window cleaning or repair?”
“Nope,” Ian said placidly.
“So what am I looking at here?” Mickey asked, squinting a little at the man swaying dizzyingly outside their window.
“Nate,” Ian said with another blissful sip of his coffee.
Mickey did a double take before scrambling for his glasses and jamming them onto his face. “What the fuck! It’s Nate!”
Ian chuckled sinisterly into his coffee, “yep.”
“What the fuck’s he doing out there?!”
“Struggling clearly,” Ian said with sustained dark amusement. Nate was indeed having a warm time with the window washing rig outside their window. Mickey expected the man to go tumbling over the edge at any moment. Ian had his fingers crossed for just that outcome. “He’s doing some Nate nonsense. It’s either recon or he’s planning on busting in Mission Impossible style. Good luck cutting that circle into the glass.”
Mickey was still dumbstruck. “Is this really a thing people do outside of movies? People actually commandeer rigs to do this shit? This is actually a thing?!”
“Well obviously,” Ian said, nodding to the window.
“Nate is a cartoon character,” Mickey said, wincing as Nate pitched sideways. “I meant normal people; not that maniac.”
“Please, Mickey, that’s offensive to maniacs,” Ian sniffed. “I would know—I’m half maniac.”
Mickey burst out laughing before remembering the peril of the moment. “Why are you so stu—could you just call someone to get him down, please?”
Ian made a noncommittal noise. “Can’t we just see how this plays out a little while longer?”
“Ian! No! I will not have Nate splattered all over my sidewalk. Plus it’s Nate; he’ll cover miles! Who wants to walk their dogs through that?!” Mickey realized his error too late. The dogs had already been activated and were jumping and circling him in excitement. “No, that’s not what I—”
“You know you can’t say walk the dogs in a sentence if you don’t plan to actually walk the dogs, Mickey,” Ian murmured, whipping the dogs into a near frenzy.
“Ian!”
“Who wants to go walkies with Mickey?”
“Ian, I swear to god—alright! Fine, fine, go get your shit!” Mickey relented and the dogs shot off to fetch their leashes. Mickey used the brief respite to focus on Ian. “Ian, I am not kidding. Call whoever and get him down. I don’t want to see that when I come back.” Mickey got the dogs ready and prepared to head out. He ignored the tugging dogs and fixed Ian with a final look. “Ian?”
“Alright,” Ian pouted before muttering under his breath. “Never let me have any fun.”
Nate had to fight hard against the urge to toss off the paramedic’s blanket so he could get on his knees and kiss the ground. Instead, he stayed put in the back of the ambulance as the crowd lost interest in his rescue and humiliation, and quickly dispersed. He regretted fighting against the urge. Maybe if he had put his pride aside and made out with the ground, it would have opened up and swallowed him before Ian could reach him.
“Nate, long time,” Ian greeted him with bone-chilling warmth.
“Ian,” Nate croaked back.
“Didn’t know about the one way windows, huh?”
No, he hadn’t known. Nate had been horrified to see his own reflection staring back when he tried to peer into their apartment. By then though, his rig had started trying to kill him and he was faced with more pressing matters. He reddened but ignored Ian’s question.
“You know when Mickey told me you had reappeared, I braced myself for some kind of nonsense,” Ian continued. “Then when I saw you outside my window, flailing like an idiot, I felt myself getting into fight mode to protect my family and thwart said nonsense. But while I was watching the excruciatingly long rescue efforts, I had some time to think and I realize that I really don’t have time for this.”
Nate could only blink at Ian’s emphatic declaration and gaped as his sworn nemesis continued.
“It’s just that Mickey and I are at a really sensitive juncture in our lives and we’re working on our personal development. Especially Mickey!” Ian exclaimed, “he’s coming to some pretty important realizations about himself and he’s trying to push through it and go forward and I need to be here for that. I need to support him and be fully present for this and with that and work and my struggle to stay even… I just can’t do this thing with you. So how can we resolve this, like right now?”
Nate was momentarily dumbstruck. He eventually shook himself awake. “Well, why bother with a resolution at all? Clearly you’re busy, so why don’t I just bugger off and get out of your hair so you can get on with your personal development during this very sensitive juncture?”
Ian eyed Nate askance. “Sarcasm?”
“Of bloody course I’m being sarcastic, you rust-headed hand puppet!” Nate snarled as he struggled out the ambulance and tossed the blanket.
“I don’t even know what that means…”
“Why anyone would think that I would give a damn about your life goals is completely beyond me,” Nate scoffed. “Unbelievable, completely unbelievable. After all this time and alleged self-actualization, how are you still the outrageously self-centred asshole you were nearly two decades ago?”
Ian looked on in disbelief. “I’m an asshole? You’ve been bitter and combative since the day we formed this company. You made my life hell at every opportunity and I’m the asshole?”
“I wasn’t bitter from day one, Ian,” Nate pointed out, “Southside Enterprises wasn’t created the day you registered the trademark. It was born in the computer lab back at school, the day when you and Lip sold us on the videogame that just had to be made. You’re a great storyteller, Ian, but do you really think your ideas were in any way truly groundbreaking? The story wasn’t the most original, but the twists and outline were cool and your energy—whatever the source—was infectious, so we bought in. Your fever dream would have gone nowhere without my graphic design, Gary’s coding, Sydney’s storyboarding…without all of us! And what did you do once we got going? You let Lip go full mercenary on us and cut us out, just tossing us some consolation jobs to assuage your guilt. You don’t think I have a right to be bitter?!”
Ian scratched the bridge of his nose—a habit he’d picked up from Mickey whenever his fight or flight response got triggered. He stayed mum, however, as Nate continued venting his spleen.
“Then to add insult to injury, years later, your boy toy attacks me and destroys one of the few things I care about,” Nate fumed. “You don’t know what it’s like dealing with the bad jokes and the ridicule, just because you don’t understand someone’s lifestyle choices—”, Nate missed Ian’s incredulous snort and persisted in his diatribe. “—this does not give anyone a pass to invade my home and defile my love!”
“You’re right.”
Nate sputtered to a halt, “what?”
“You’re right,” Ian repeated.
“I am?”
Ian sighed, “look, back then I was half out of my mind, and Lip and I were paranoid as fuck that we were going to get screwed out of the one good thing we had going for us. I guess in trying to protect ourselves and our property, we were the ones who ended up doing the screwing. I guess any amends I tried to make were pretty weak in retrospect.”
Nate blinked, stupefied. He stammered badly as he tried to respond. “Y-yes, I suppose they were.”
“And if I had handled my issues with you more directly, Mickey probably wouldn’t have felt the need to step in and try to defend my honour…”
“No,” Nate said slowly, still sceptical of this turnaround. “No, he wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, so what do you want?”
“What?” Nate asked, bewildered, feeling himself growing wobbly with confusion.
“What do you need to make this right?”
“I don’t know,” Nate admitted at length, “I…I never thought I’d get this far.” He stood still for a moment while his mind scrambled desperately. “The wikis!” he said suddenly.
“Huh?”
“The wiki entries for the early games—I don’t think they sufficiently reflect the significance of my contributions.”
Ian began to question the notion but then thought better of it, “You know what; you got it. What else?”
“Stock options!” Nate blurted out, “The stock options I would have had had I still been around when you went public. Options I should have had from the very beginning, mind you.”
“I’ll talk to Mick and Lip. I’m sure we can come up with something that’s fair,” Ian nodded.
Nate was staggered at the windfall of good fortune. He quickly and greedily grasped for more. “As for reparations for Twilight Sparkle… I heard that Mickey might have a stuffed animal that I could—”
Ian took a menacing step forwards that had the man sputtering to a halt. “How about we buy you a really expensive replacement and pretend that you weren’t about to go down a dark and very dangerous path?” Ian suggested softly.
Nate gulped and nodded jerkily. “Fair,” he squeaked.
“So,” Ian brightened up suddenly, clapped his hands together and the world seemed to release its collective breath, “we’re good now, right? Amicable solution achieved?”
“I-I guess…?”
“Great! I’ll have my people call your people and iron everything out. So get some people!” Ian clicked his tongue and hit Nate with double barrelled finger guns before turning heel to head back home. “Good luck with the rest of your life, Nate!”
Nate waved feebly, feeling as if he’d been hit by a Mack truck. He had triumphed, his evil nemesis had been defeated and the loot had been plundered. Now what was he going to do with the rest of his life? What adventure would be woven next into the rich tapestry of his existence?
“Hey!” Fate called out and Nate turned to see Officers Martinez and Priestley, forgotten spectres from his haunted past.
“You!”
“Us,” Martinez confirmed, “Jesus, still nuts, huh? We got a bunch of phone calls and now we need to have a talk with you about the little stunt you just pulled.”
“Why?” Nate asked suspiciously.
“Well, crazy as it sounds, it’s not exactly legal to steal a window washing rig to trespass on private property and harass and violate the privacy of the people therein. There’s also the issue of creating a public disturbance with all that flailing and screaming you were doing up there.”
Nate sniffed delicately and tried to keep his composure. “What’s the statute of limitations on such charges?”
“Longer than an hour,” Priestley said dryly. “So you want to come with us for a minute?”
“Well, you see—” Nate began before charging away to jog up the street. “You’ll never take me alive!”
“Sir, you’re only embarrassing yourself—ay, fuck it,” Martinez scoffed and turned to his partner, “chase and taze?”
“The fuck for, just wait another minute.” As Priestley easily predicted, a minute later, Nate had keeled over a couple blocks over, huffing and puffing after figuratively and literally hitting the wall. “Alright, let’s go get him.”
“He knows just about anyone can edit Wikipedia, right?” Lip asked blithely as he sipped his coffee. He had met his younger brother at an outdoor café for lunch and had listened with a cocked eyebrow as Ian caught him up.
“I didn’t feel like belabouring the point. Let’s just say he’s god in a few of them, prove to him that we definitely did that and whatever happens after, happens,” Ian replied.
“He knows he can just buy our stock, right?” Lip continued to point out.
“Clearly he’d prefer it to be free,” Ian said, “can we just give him whatever and be done with it. I just want him out of my hair so I can focus on getting Mickey down the proverbial aisle and into therapy…”
Ian trailed off when he realized that his brother was no longer listening to him. He followed his brother’s gaze to see that he was now focused on another redhead—a stunning one with mile long legs who was splitting her attention between Lip and her nails. Before long, the young woman appeared to come to a conclusion and she slid out of her seat to come over to their table.
She nodded coolly to Ian before she swept her hair back and leaned down to whisper in Lip’s ear. Ian fought the urge to roll his eyes at the interplay before the young woman straightened up, gracefully turned heel, and strolled away. Lip watched her go, waiting to see if she’d look back one more time. She didn’t, apparently already forgotten all about her potential paramour. Lip figured that alone was worth a phone call. Ian took the folded paper the woman had left behind from his brother and read it.
“Trish?” Ian sniffed disdainfully, “what sort of trailer park princess realness?”
“Don’t judge,” Lip replied with a smile. “Bet Mickey would like her.”
“He does love a trashy redhead, so…” Ian admitted.
Lip shook his head at his brother and pocketed the phone number. “I really can’t believe you gave all this up for monogamy.”
“Gave what up, the thrilling risk of venereal disease?” Ian laughed. “I bought the dairy farm, according to you. Why keep going out to get milk?”
“Variety?” Lip offered. “There’re so many other types of milk out there! Strawberry milk,” he said, nodding to where the young woman had been seated, “almond milk, coconut milk… rice milk!” he exclaimed, tilting his head towards a young man of Japanese descent who was shyly sneaking peeks at Ian.
Ian glanced over at the man and rolled his eyes at his brother. “Rice milk, really? You micro-aggressive racist.”
“I can’t be racist; I voted for Kanye,” Lip defended himself.
“You didn’t vote for Kanye, you voted for chaos and a Yeezy-based economy.”
“You bought and sold just as much Adidas stock as I did,” Lip reminded him. He studied his brother closely for a moment before asking a strange question. “You’re really happy, aren’t you?”
Ian was about to reel off a sassy restort, but paused at the odd note of sincere bafflement in his brother’s voice. He looked back at his brother before nodding slowly. “Yeah…yeah, I’m happy.”
“Just like that? Like all the time?”
“I mean, you know there will be rough patches…really bad ones maybe, but yeah,” Ian said as he regarded his brother carefully, “I’m happy all the time.”
“Why though,” Lip persisted, “because of Mickey?”
Ian thought it over. “Mickey’s a huge part of it and the best part of it, but it’s not just because of him. It took a lot of hard work for me to get to where I am now. I’m stable, I’m committed to my self-care and staying even, I have a career I’m good at and have people who know they can depend on me. I started realizing I was happy when I finally felt like I fit in my skin after feeling like I was spiralling for ages,” Ian said. “Then Mickey came along and he became part of all of that and expanded it. I mean, I think he’s my soul mate and the best thing in the world, but maybe if we had met before I was truly okay with myself, it would have just been like crashing into each other, you know; powerful, but no good. It’s hard to explain, but I think about it all the time.” Ian stopped himself from babbling and studied his brother before hesitantly asking, “Aren’t you happy?”
Lip shrugged as he fished for a lighter to light his cigarette. “Fuck if I know what that is,” he said wryly.
“Seriously?”
“Emotions are some of those things I could never quite get a handle on, and ‘happy’ is one of the weirder ones. I don’t exactly know what it is anymore, even if I thought I did once.”
Ian frowned, “so…what are you then?”
“I don’t know, restless? Bored?” Empty. Lip expelled a plume of smoke and hazarded a bit of brutal honesty. “All I know is, I’ve been working my ass off trying not to be Frank. The problem is that the harder I work, is the more I find myself empathizing with the gross fuck despite myself. I look in the mirror sometimes and I see him looking back and it’s infuriating… and terrifying.”
Ian felt completely at sea as to how to deal with this loaded revelation. “How have I never wondered if any of us were actually happy?” he asked, bewildered.
“Because we were doing okay and that’s all that mattered,” Lip said with a comforting smile. “We spent our entire lives just trying to stay above the shit, who had time to worry about actually being happy?”
“Well, when was the last time you even thought you were... happy?”
Lip’s smile was small and enigmatic and he simply shrugged again. “I was thinking after you get hitched and the dust settles that I might take off for a while.”
“Where? And if you shrug one more time, I will strangle you!”
Lip laughed, “but I really don’t know though. I haven’t figured anything out yet. I just need to stretch my legs a little.”
To Ian, the idea was alarmingly Frank in its sentimentality. “Lip, maybe you should just—”
“I’m not taking off on you,” Lip interjected gently, “and I’m definitely not going anywhere without decent cell phone signal and emergency concierge service. The second you need me for anything, I’ll be back. I just need some time off.”
The brothers regarded each other silently across the small table. Ian tried to remember the last time they had truly been apart since they had chased a video game dream together. Memories of a time before with a broken and scattered family filled him as well as all the Frank parallels that hadn’t occurred to him until now. Ian thought once again about protesting and offering a list of alternatives to keep his brother put. Instead, he inhaled and nodded. “Whatever you need.”
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
Ian burst out laughing at the dry remark. “For fuck’s sake, it’s a Wikipedia edit and some stock. I just want him out of our hair.”
Mickey sniffed and scrolled through his tablet. “Another thing, as a father of a defenseless stuffed animal, I don’t know how comfortable I am delivering another innocent one right into the hands of some perverted fuck face.”
Ian came over to Mickey and captured his face in his hands. “Mickey, it will be a stuffed horse with cotton, hopefully absorbent, guts and plastic eyes. It does not give a fuck about Nate’s proclivities. Non-human toys have no feelings,” Ian quickly amended when Mickey took a sharp breath. “With the notable exception of Clay who has all the feelings and will probably be an Ivy League valedictorian one day… and the toys from Toy Story.” Ian quickly added again before Mickey could protest again. “Oh my god, we’re so getting you into therapy,” Ian muttered under his breath. “Just give Nate what he wants, please.”
Mickey snorted begrudgingly as Ian went to join Lola on the couch. She settled on his chest as Ian stretched out.
“Whatever, I’m just going to change the wiki back two days later,” Mickey grumbled.
“You and Lip really should be better friends.”
Mickey didn’t bother responding to that as he evicted a loudly protesting Lola from the couch. “Yeah, yeah, go bark at your mother.” He readjusted Ian so he could get cuddled while he perused his tablet.
“So,” Ian started off as he hugged Mickey closely, “we all set for tomorrow?”
“You mean for city hall?” Mickey asked and felt Ian nod. “Just to head down there and sign the documents, right?”
“Yeah, just making sure you’re still okay with everything—”
“And that my feet weren’t getting cold?” Mickey deduced. “I told you, it’s fine, I’m onboard. Plus, it’s not even a big deal, right?”
“Totally not a big deal,” Ian quickly agreed.
“Right… I gotta admit though, I’m pretty excited about tomorrow,” Mickey said softly and Ian perked up immediately.
“You are?!”
“Yeah, Danny’s is having their grand opening on the Lower East Side.”
“The-the pizza joint?!”
“Yeah, what, you forget?” Mickey asked, glancing over his shoulder at a stupefied Ian. “We’ve been talking about it for ages. I figured after we get the marriage stuff done, we’d head down there and get a couple slices.”
“You’re excited for some pizza?” Ian repeated hollowly.
“Ian, when is the last time you had a decent deep dish pie without having to haul your ass all the way back to Chicago. If Danny’s is half as good as they are back home, it will be heaven. I’m telling you; tomorrow could be the first day of the rest of our lives.”
“Because of pizza?” Ian said weakly.
“Mmhmm,” Mickey hummed, smiling to himself being fully aware of the fact that Ian was behind him pouting up a storm over Mickey’s apparently whacked out priorities. He let Ian stew for a minute before adding, “you know another thing about tomorrow?”
“Are we still talking about the goddamned pizza?!”
Mickey turned to side-eye Ian. “What’s your problem, Sunshine? I was just going to say that I realize that after tomorrow, I’ll be officially sleeping with a married man.”
Ian’s blinked nonplussed before his pique dissolved and he eased into the mutual teasing. “What’s the matter, nervous?”
“I’ve never been with a married man before,” Mickey continued coyly, “at least I don’t think. You never really know the guys that show up to bang in a park bathroom.”
Ian snorted loudly. “Well don’t worry about it; I’ve been with a few. The pants come off the same way.”
“So you’re saying married sex is no different from living in sin sex?”
“If anything, it can only get better,” Ian said confidently.
“Ah, so I guess you’d rather wait for tomorrow and you’d have no interest in getting on me and taking one last bite out of this still single ass; kiss it goodbye?”
“I mean, for the sake of nostalgia…”
Mickey laughed, got to his feet and started heading to their bedroom with Ian closely following.
“You better get it while it’s hot,” Mickey called back as he peeled off his shirt, “because after tomorrow, I might start developing a whole lot of headaches.”
“Good thing I have a cure for that,” Ian smirked, sliding past Mickey.
“Yeah a bet you do,” Mickey said as he closed their bedroom door, “come show it to me.”
Friendly reminder that rough drafts are due to me by this Sunday, July 7. I’ll be using this to write up the summaries for the artists so they can make their claims. If you want to send yours along before Sunday, you are more than welcome to do so! As always, if you have any questions, you can email me or shoot me an ask! Please spread the word!
Hi guys, happy Sunday! Just checking in to see how everyone is doing here on the old tumblr dot com.
I know there were some people who were interested in writing for the last round of the Big Bang who couldn’t commit at the time, but it’s been a few and I thought I’d put out some feelers and see if any of you want to do another round!
Feel free to comment on this post or to shoot me a message and let me know if you’re interested!
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