A/N: Warning; crude langue. But, its a Shameless imagine staring Mickey, so….
*Eight years ago*
An eight year old Mickey Milkovich ran from the sound of sirens and police calling after him. He didn’t realize he had left the familiar area until he got the chance to stop and breath.
“Where the fuck am I?” he muttered to himself.
“Fuck!” he jumped and looked up to see a girl his age sitting ontop of the wall he had stopped to lean on. “Don’t do that!”
“You’re not from around here are ya?” she cocked her head.
“Mind your own fuckin’ business.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” she jumped down, landing on her feet in front of him. Getting a closer look at her, he could see her stick straight blonde hair and green eyes. He could also see her clothes; the nice blouse and jeans looking far fancier than his clothes. Crap, he must be on the north side.
Despite the obvious differences between them, the girl held out her hand. “Claire Francis.”
Mickey raised an eyebrow at her. Either this girl was too stupid to know he was south side trash, or she just didn’t care. The money he just stole was on the fist one.
Still, he had lost the cops, so he decided to humor her and shook her hand. “Mickey Milkovich.”
“Like Mickey Mouse?”
Mickey grimaced and yanked his hand away. “Don’t ever call me that.”
“Okay. I’ll just call you Mouse.”
*Seven years ago*
Mickey wasn’t sure how the rich girl had become glued to his side, but she had.
Once you put aside the fact that she was from the north side, she wasn’t actually all that bad. She wasn’t snobby like other rich folk and she didn’t seem to mind getting into trouble with Mickey all the time.
She still called him ‘Mouse’, but he made up for it by calling her ‘Bear.’ Well, it had started as ‘Claire-bear’, but when she made the same face he had at being called Mickey Mouse, he saw an opening and ran with it.
Claire was over at his house so much she practically lived there. She got along pretty well with his siblings – his bothers liked to baby her and Mandy liked to steal her away from him, delighting in having another girl to spend time with.
But there was one common question on every Milkovich’s mind: Why the fuck would someone as well off as Claire Francis want to spend every waking moment at their house with people like them?
They only asked her about a million times. Each. No matter which sibling had posed the question, the answer was always the same:
“I like it here. You and your family make me feel safe.”
*Six years ago*
“Hey siblings, look at my wad a cash!” Jamie exclaimed as he waltzed into the living room. “Admire the wad.”
“Whoa, where the fuck you get that?” Iggy asked, trying to reach for it but it was held out of his reach.
“Probably whored himself out.” Mickey joked.
“Like anybody would fuck Jamie.”
All the boy’s eyes snapped to her, stunned.
“You guys heard that right?” Iggy asked.
“You bet your fuckin’ ass I did, our little Claire just swore!”
“I’m so proud of you Bear!” Mickey made a show of dramatically throwing his arms around her.
“Mouse, get off’a me!” she shoved him into the other side of the couch.
*Five years ago*
Claire Francis might as well have been Claire Milkovich at this point. Word had gotten around that Mickey had a best friend who did everything with him. Word had also gotten around that she was under the same promise as the rest of the Milkovich siblings: you mess with one, the rest are coming after you.
One could argue that Mickey and his family were a bad influence on Claire, but she was just as up for robbing convenience stores and punching douche bags as the rest of them.
Not to say that she wasn’t rubbing off on them as well. The house was in much better order, they didn’t go out to bust skulls for the sake of busting skulls – much – and there always seemed to be a stock of Claire’s favorite snacks in the kitchen.
As her best friend, Mickey had developed a soft spot for her – not that he’d ever admit that. But he was nicer with her, smiling instead of cursing and yelling.
Which was why, when she had come into his room and flopped down on his bed, clearly upset, he didn’t instantly ask who he needed to kill.
“What’s the matter, Bear?” he said instead.
“…I dunno where my dad is….”
*Four years ago*
To say that Claire’s family was a touchy subject was an understatement.
She didn’t like talking about them. Period. Every time any of them tried to ask, they’d get yelled at. Over the years, the Milkovichs had just stopped bringing it up all together.
“Ugh, I hate science.” Claire dropped her head onto her textbook.
“Then quit studying.” Mickey shrugged, spinning in his desk chair.
“What part of ‘big test worth 20% of our grade’ do you not understand?” she raised her head to look at him.
“The 20% part.” He said sarcastically. “You know I fucking stink at math.”
She snickered. “Well I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful life as a pimp, but not many people take girl criminals seriously.”
“Then I’ll bash their heads in.” Mickey said simply.
“Why is that your answer to everything?”
*Three years ago*
About an hour after Mickey had left Kash and Grab without paying – again – the door opened once more to a young blonde girl counting out a large wad of cash.
“Here ya go.” she plopped it on the counter, drawing the attention of Kash and Ian, who had just started working there last month.
“What’s this for?” Kash frowned.
“”Mickey. He’s been goin’ a little nuts her lately, and the last thing I need is for him to land his ass in juvy again.” she shrugged. “Plus, I got money, might as well spend it on my best friend. Though to be fair, either of you –” she looked between Kash and Ian. “Tell him about this, I will come after you with a crowbar.” she smiled as though she hadn’t just threatened them. “Well I’ve done my civic duty. Good day to you both.”
*Two years ago*
Claire continued to pay for what Mickey took from the store without his knowledge. It wasn’t like it was a bother; money was something she had plenty of. But Mickey and his family had no interest in ‘charity.’ Which is why they didn’t know.
Ian got used to seeing her in the store. She was nice, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why she cared about Mickey Milkovich so much. It took a while before he actually talked to her, but his curiosity eventually got to him.
“How come you always pay for what Mickey takes anyway?” He asked one night when she’d come just before he got off work. He’d run run after her walking down the cold street next to her, not sure where they were going. “What’s he ever done for you?”
“Gallagher right?” he nodded. “Your family’s got it tough, but you all care about each other yeah?”
“That’s what he’s done for me.”
*One year ago*
Claire practically lived at the Milkovich house. Practically being the operative word. She still had to go home every night, though she was always reluctant to do so.
But she had to, so she did.
“Hey, Claire gone?” Jamie asked.
“Yup.” Mickey flopped on the couch. “Just got back from walkin’ her home. You know I’ve never actually seen the inside of her house.”
“You met her parents?”
“With how much she hates talkin’ about ‘em? What the fuck do you think?”
Jamie chuckled and shook his head. “Man, I hope we ain’t screwin’ that girl up.” he took a sip from his beer.
“What do you mean?” Mickey frowned.
“Well you brought home this sweet and innocent north side girl, and now look at her.”
“She’s tough. What’s wrong with that?”
Jamie only laughed, gulping his beer.
Mickey’s temper flared and he stood up. “Answer me, what the fucks wrong with that?”
“The fact that the next time you land yourself in juvy, she’s gonna be in the cell next to you, that’s what the fucks wrong with that.”
“Then she’ll have me to make sure no douche bags go after her, won’t she?” Mickey exclaimed. “Don’t say stuff like that man! She’s fuckin’ family!”
“We’re back!” Mickey called as he threw open the front door to his home.
“Hey Mick.” his brother Iggy waved, busy lighting a cigarette.
“Hey, uh Claire’s here.” he nodded at the blonde teenager who had come in behind him.
“When is she not here?” Iggy shrugged.
“He’s got a point.” Claire nodded. “I’m thirsty. Ya got any beer?” she walked into the kitchen, only to jump back when Mandy came flying through the back door in tears. She ran past her family up the stairs to her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Everyone’s eye followed after, until the boys turned their’s to Claire.
Getting the message quickly, she huffed. “You guys are pathetic.” she pushed past them and followed Mandy up to her room. “Mans?” she knocked on the door. “I’m commin’ in.”
Mandy was crying into her pillow when Claire shut the door behind her. She came to sit next to her on the bed and rubbed at her back.
“You wanna tell me what happened?”
“Ian Gallagher is what happened!” she suddenly shot up, making Claire jump back.
“What did Ian Gallagher do?”
“I was tryin’ to be nice, I was over at his house –” Mandy threw herself at Claire, her arms hitting her stomach. Claire hissed and Mandy jumped back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Claire said quickly.
“Claire, are you hurt?” Mandy pulled up her shirt slightly to reveal a pattern of bruises across the skin. “Who the fuck did that?!”
“F-forget that, we need to figure out this Ian thing.”
“Forget that, we need to figure out this Claire thing.”
She gave a laugh that sounded forced even to her. “Mans, there’s no Claire thing, I’m the same Claire I’ve always been.”
“The Claire you’ve always been would know to come to us if someone was hurting you!” she exclaimed. “In fact –” she stood and ran for the door.
“Mandy!” Claire exclaimed, running after her.
The living room was already irrupting in screams by the time she made it down there. Claire couldn’t make out who was saying what, but the room felt smaller than usual.
“All of you shut the fuck up!” she finally exploded. “I can’t understand you when you all talk at once!”
“Bear, what the fuck is Mandy talking about?” Mickey demanded.
Claire swallowed. “That depends. What she say?”
“She came down here yellin’ that someone’s been hurtin’ you. But you’d tell us if that was true, right?” Silence. “Right?!”
“Mouse, not everybody gets to punch away their problems, okay?”
“I gotta go…”
Mickey ran out after her onto the cold street, not even noticing that his coat was still inside.
“No!” he ran up to her and caught her arm. He saw her wince and was quick to push up her sleeve. Several bruises of varying color were scattered up and down her arm. One looked suspiciously like a hand print. “So its true….” Claire pulled her arm away and pulled her sleeve back down. “Fuck…”
“Its fine…” she said softly.
“No its fuckin’ not Claire!” Mickey exclaimed. “Why the fuck would you not tell me about this?”
“Because there’s nothing you can do!”
“I can bash the bastard’s fuckin’ brains out!”
“No you can’t!”
“Why the hell not?!”
“Because those bastards are my parents!”
Well that certainly shut him up.
Claire chocked on a sob and plopped down on the curb outside the Milkovich house. Still in shock, Mickey sat down next to her.
“….You wanna know why I’m over here all the time?” she said once she found the air to speak. “Its because you guys have everything I’ve ever wanted. Ya know, you care about each other, and you’re always there for each other no matter how much you screw up, I wanted that….” tears slid down her cheeks. “My mom left when I was six. I-I haven’t heard from her in a long time. My dad, he, he drinks a lot. Sometimes he isn’t home for days….” she rubbed at her eyes. “One time…I couldn’t have been older than eleven…He brings home a woman. Says she’s my new mom.” she scoffed. “Certainly doesn’t act like it….” she ran her fingers over her coat sleeve.
“…Claire….” Mickey pulled her into his arms and let her cry into his shoulder. “Its okay Bear, its okay…..”
A/N:So, I had one particular scene in my head (which isn’t written) and this is what came to mind when I tried writing it. Obviously, it could/will contain another part or two. I figured I should post something since I haven’t really written anything in a long time… anything good for that matter. Enjoy.
You nervously made your way down the hallway where there were a ton of other students just ambling around, talking by their lockers, or just grabbing things from their lockers. You tried avoiding anyone’s gaze and path, not wanting anymore attention than what you’d be receiving in class already for being a transfer student. You were originally from Southern California and had moved to Sydney, Australia over the course of the summer. The school system was different than the one back in America, but education was education. You breathed a sigh of relief as you made it to your locker. You glanced at the combination on the piece of paper the lady in the office had given you and tried it. You pulled the lock up, but it didn’t unlock. You frowned and tried the combination once more after taking another glance at the paper to make sure you had it correct. You huffed in frustration when it remained locked. You tried one last time, going a lot slower, and making sure you lined up the numbers precisely. It still didn’t open. “Ugh!” You groaned and yanked on the lock in annoyance. “Need a hand?” A deep accented voice asked from your left. Duh, they’re all Australian. It’s you who actually has the accent. You jumped, a little startled from the voice, and looked up at the source. It was guy with sandy, blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes with, wait, was that a lip ring? You took in his attire. He had on a black leather jacket, a printed tee, and black skinny jeans on with black boots adorning his feet. He raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk lightly playing on his lips as you took in his appearance. You realized that you hadn’t answered his question and blushed. “Oh, uh, yeah. If you don’t mind,” you managed to say. He chuckled and moved so that he could look at the lock. You showed him the paper and he began to twist in the combination. “American, huh?” You leaned against the locker to the right of yours. “Is my accent that obvious?” He pulled up the little latch and it gave in. He opened your locker, “Just a tad.” You laughed. “Thank you.” He leaned back against the locker to your left, propping one foot up against it and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “So what made you decide to come down under?” You put some things in your locker that you wouldn’t need for your first few class. “Down under?” He shrugged. “That’s what Australia is usually referred to as.” You nodded. “If I told you that I’m a fugitive who’s in hiding so I ran away to another country, would you believe me?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Not really. Although, if you are, I know a good hiding place.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you turned to look at him, one hand holding onto your locker door. “Why am I not surprised that you would help a criminal?” He grinned at you. “Only for those who happen to be a beautiful little thing like yourself.” You rolled your eyes. “Wow, five minutes have gone by and the compliments have begun. You don’t even know my name.” “Fine, we’ll do all the boring introductions,” he dramatically sighed. “The name’s Hemmings. Luke Hemmings,” he impersonated. You laughed. “Dork.” He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a man of character. So, what might your name be, love?” “Wouldn’t you like to know?” “Hence the question.” You heard the bell ring and all the students started to make their way through the corridor to their first classes. You closed your locker, making sure it was locked, before looking back at Luke who was still waiting for you to tell him your name. “Y/L/N. Y/F/N Y/L/N,” you tell him, giving him one last smile before turning around and walking to your first class.
Half of the day had passed and you were now back at your locker. You stared at it with a look of determination. “Okay, locker. I will open you,” you told it and started twisting in the combo. “Fucking hell,” you muttered when you didn’t unlock it. “Trouble again, America?” A voice asked with a hint of amusement lacing their tone. You huffed. “I’m not in the mood, Aussie.” You tried putting in the combo once more, your tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth as you concentrated. “Ugh! You just hate me, don’t you?” You told the locker as if it would respond back to you. Luke chuckled. “Here, you’re doing it wrong.” He moved to stand behind you and grabbed your hand to place it on the lock while his other rested on your hip. “I’ll guide you.” His fingers held yours and you watched as he directed you on which way to turn the knob. He put in the last number and used your hand to lift the little latch. “There.” You turned slightly so that you could see him since he was stood behind you. “Thanks.” He smiled. “Anytime.” You blushed as you began to exchange the things you needed for your last set of classes with your first set. “So, how was-” Luke started to ask you, but was cut off. “Hemmo!” A voice boomed. You both looked over to where a group of guys and a few girls were stood in front of some lockers. One of the guys motioned with his head for Luke to go over to them. Luke turned to look back at you. “I, uh,” You gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, Luke. You can go. I’m not making you stay.” He smiled back at you. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He told you as he started walking backwards in the direction of his friends. You nodded and gave him a small little wave of your fingers before going back to your task at hand. You had just finished putting away the last book when a body leaned against the locker beside yours. “Wow, very brave of you to talk to Luke Hemmings on your first day.” You looked to see who the voice belonged to and saw a girl with short, pixie-like, black hair and bright green eyes. She wore a printed skirt with a white blouse and a nice coat over it with brown boots on her feet. “I’m sorry?” You ask her. She nudged her head in the direction of where Luke was. He had his arm slung around one of the girl’s shoulders while her’s was around his waist and she leaned into him. He was talking amongst the other guys while the two girls talked on the side. You looked back at the girl in front of you. “Why do you say that?” She stood up straight and faced you fully. “Luke isn’t just your normal guy.” You raised an eyebrow at her. “And definition of normal is…?” She rolled her eyes. “The not nice ones.” “Now, what would be the reason on why he’s not normal?” “You could say that he has the term fuckboy under lock and key.” You stole a glance at Luke and saw the girl kiss his cheek and him smile down at her. “He was just opening my locker because I couldn’t open it after so many tries.” “I’m just saying, watch your back. He’s capable of so many things, and most of them aren’t with good intentions,” she warned you. “I wasn’t looking for anything with him. All he did was unlock my locker. That’s it. That’s all that it will ever be,” you told her. She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m just warning you that he could be a manipulative little fucker when he wants to be.” You shut your locker. “Look, thanks for the warning, but I think I can handle myself.” She lets out a low whistle. “You sure are something,” the girl tells you with a shake of her head. “No wondering you’re of interest to Hemmings.” You shifted your bag up higher on your shoulder. “Look, I don’t mean to be. He helped me open my locker. That’s all there is to the story. If you’ll excuse me, I’m starving and I should go get something to eat.” You tried to walk past her, but she pulled on your arm. “Why don’t you eat with my friend and me. We could use someone like you in our group,” she offered. You raised and eyebrow at her offer, but then shrugged. “I guess. Why not? It’s better than eating alone,” you tell her then follow her in the direction of the cafeteria.
This may sound stupid and incredibly basic, but I continually surprised by would-be cosplayers who don’t know how to ask for help. Beyond the sort of vague cospositive slogans, I haven’t found a great guide for the actual nuts and bolts of how to cosplay, and how to ask for help when you’re stuck.
Now, I will put the disclaimer on this that there are many reasons that people cosplay, so your end goals may be different than mine. My goals (and the goals of this tutorial) are to help you decide on and create a reference accurate cosplay of a specific costume. You may decide that you don’t need to get every detail right, and that’s fine too. Enjoy where this process takes you.