Happy March 4th, y’all! On this day in 2005, Rose Tyler met the Doctor.
To celebrate, I spent the morning introducing @sandalhat101, who’d never seen Doctor Who, to the fandom. We watched the first three episodes! It was great to go back and relive the olden days. ((One day she shall know my pain…)) I mean, what? :P
In addition, I’d like to share a bit of something I’ve been working on. It’s a JE fixit fic in which Rose was the one who was pregnant on the beach, instead of Jackie. She gives birth to a boy, who’s nearly eight years old when the stars start going out. It’s Mickey who does the dimension hopping instead of Rose, since she has a child to think of, and he finds the Doctor immediately following the events of Midnight. Mickey gives the hopper to the Doctor, who then gets recalled to Pete’s world, which is where the excerpt begins. I hope you like it!
WIP Excerpt (2531 words)
materialized on an empty, quiet street. Actually, materialize was too kind a word for the way he burst into being, feeling
physically shredded on a level to match his mental disorganization.
It felt apt, in a way, allowing his physiology to go to pieces,
unable to keep himself from stumbling to his knees on the pavement.
Even though his superior time senses prevented him from being sick
like Mickey, he took a moment, crumpled there on the stone, to just
be. Here, in Rose’s universe, no entity, no companions, no
TARDIS. He’d taken Rose’s instructions to never let himself be alone.
She’d been right, as she usually was, but after all these years he was so
tired of running. Of putting on the performance, always being
all right, never letting himself feel what he felt for fear of giving
into madness. Safe in the knowledge that Rose was here, somewhere,
the Doctor finally allowed himself to shatter.
you okay, Mister?” The quiet, cautious voice of a child broke into
the miasma of his consciousness, and quite right, too. Here he was,
going to pieces on a perfectly respectable suburban sidewalk, while
Rose needed him. He wondered how much the child had seen – if he’d
seen a man appear out of seemingly thin air and then collapse into a
shuddering heap. He was being remarkably calm if so.
let out a shaking laugh. It was easier to pull himself back together
with the child’s presence at his shoulder, and he was appropriately
grateful. “No. No, I’m really not all right.” There was a sort of
subtle triumph in saying the words at last. He drew in great gasps of
air, trying to bring himself back under control.
you need a Doctor?”
almost misses it, the subtle capitalization the child’s tone lends
the term, but the next words don’t leave any room for doubt. “My
dad’s a doctor, we-l-l properly speaking he’s the Doctor, but
I’ve found other people who want you to call them doctor get cross
when you imply there’s only one proper Doctor. Mum says the Doctor
helps everyone, though, so he’d help you too, or would do if there
was one in this universe. There’s so many different universes, with
different versions of people, but not the Doctor, he’s a Time Lord,
you see, and his ego is so big it can’t be divided up among different
bits of him around different universes. That’s how Mum explained it
to me, anyway.” A sniff. “As if I didn’t understand the concept
of multidimensional nontransferrence.”
mind was spinning worse than it had been when he popped out of the Void –
he heard every word the child said and it all added up to perfectly
rational English sentences (especially the last bit about
multidimensional nontransferrence, which he thought was inspired),
but at the same time it didn’t make any sense because it was
didn’t realize he’d spoken the query aloud until the impossible voice
continued, “oh, it’s all quite simple really. You see, Mum told me
all the Time Lords had gone, and that they were the ones who used to
keep an eye on all the different dimensions. It wasn’t that much of a
stretch to infer that they must all have had to stay in one place,
the prime universe, if you will, because if there were multiple
versions of themselves running about keeping an eye on things
separately then they would keep stepping on each other and mucking
everything up. Mustn’t cross the streams and all that. I guess that’s
why Mum keeps insisting we watch that one movie with the ghosts over and over.”
unbroken stream of words faded into silence as the child seemed to
become lost in thought for a moment, and the Doctor took the time to
try to come to terms with what had just happened. In the space of
less than twenty-four hours, he’d visited a leisure planet orbiting
an Xtonic star, had his mind invaded by a malevolent mystery entity,
discovered that Void travel was not only possible, but feasible, been
presented with the prospect of finally being reunited with Rose after
so long, and nothing, nothing, about all of it has shocked him
more than being schooled in basic M-theory by a child. A child who
spoke of the Doctor and Time Lords as facts. He couldn’t bring
himself to look at the boy, was quite incapable of motion at all, in
fact, because he’d just managed to convince himself that it all might
be true but with this encounter all that hard-won certainty was
are you okay? Sorry, there I go again, Mum’s always saying I’ve got
this gob from someone but she won’t tell me who. It does seem to have a
mind of its own though, because here I am babbling on when you might
need a doctor. So do you want me to get you one? A doctor that is. If
you need the proper Doctor you’re out of luck, I’m afraid, because I
can’t go get my… Dad?”
child put his hand on the Doctor’s shoulder and the Doctor turned his
head to look at him in the same instant. A charge, like an
electrostatic current but ten times more potent, jumped between them,
but the Doctor barely felt it. Didn’t need to feel it. Slumped on his
knees so that he was looking up into the face of this extraordinary
boy, he felt his hearts lodge themselves in his throat.
has her eyes.
single thought knocked every other one out of his head – given the
state of his mind right then, not the feat it could have been but
nevertheless impressive. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d
drowned in those honey chocolate eyes and there they were: staring
out at him from the face of a six year old boy.
was so drunk on the sight of those eyes it took him a moment to
realize that the face they were set in had the same bone structure he
saw in the mirror every day.
The word was hardly a puff of air. His gaze drifted up to discover
hair sticking out at all angles like his did when he’s been running
his hands through it, except that it was…
Apparently unperturbed, the boy rocked back on his heels slightly,
even popping the ‘p’ and leaving the Doctor to wonder absurdly if the
tick was somehow a genetic trait or if Rose had picked it up and
passed it along, because that’s the sort of thing one did when the
world has been turned upside down. “Mum said she laughed herself
sick when she saw, but I don’t remember, being so young at the time
and all. I’m not sure what exactly is so funny about recessive
alleles but apparently they’re supposed to keep me from being rude?
Or at least that’s what she says when I’m being rude. Allegedly. Most
of the time I think she’s just being sensitive.”
Doctor let out a stuttered breath which was the closest he could get
to laughter without bursting into tears. This had the potential to be
the most fantastic thing ever to have happened in his life (well, with
the exception of one or two other notable instances) and he was in
absolutely no condition to properly appreciate it.
boy next to him was practically vibrating with excitement and the
Doctor could only admire his restraint in the face of his own obvious
discomfort. Once his emotions were working properly again through the
haze currently clouding his brain, he knew he would be harbouring
quite a towering state of rage against the entity who had stolen what
should have been, not just one, but two joyous meetings. Instead, he
climbed unsteadily to his feet, trying his level best to keep it as
much together in front of the child
who could only be (he can’t believe he’s admitting
it, even to himself) his son - if the nascent bond
that had just tried to jump between them through four layers of
clothing was anything to go by.
wished fiercely that he could give the boy the attention he deserved,
all the more so since he had apparently missed quite a large portion
of his childhood (and oh, how his hearts ached at that thought,) but
his miniature double didn’t seem disappointed. On the contrary, he
was grinning up at the Doctor as though he personally had hung the
sun and stars. The hearts that had been squeezed to nothing in his
chest did awkward flip flops. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder
instead, feeling again the jolt of the bond that tried to connect even so far from their telepathic centers, and looked seriously into
the eyes that he so adored.
know… who I am, then?” he asked, unsure of how to broach such a
massively emotional topic.
I do! Mum knew you’d come back someday, wanted me to know everything
about you so I’d be ready when you did – or if we figured a way
back first. Not one to sit around and do nothing, Mum.”
Doctor felt a small, but genuine smile cross his face for the first
time in a very long time. “No, certainly not,” he agreed.
mean, obviously, she was counting on being the first one to see you
so she could explain… well, us,” his son said, scratching
the back of his head absently, the Doctor watching his every movement
in rapt fascination. “I’m making a mess of things, I know I am, but
you’re not mad, are you? At Mum? For not telling you?” Somehow, the
chipper, talkative genius he’d just been interacting with had
vanished, leaving a boy looking very young and uncertain indeed.
Doctor had pulled him into his arms before he was consciously aware
of the action. “No. Nonononononono,” he breathed, over and over
into his son’s (ginger) hair. “Never. Not ever. You are
brilliant and perfect and so is your mother, and I could never be mad
at either of you. Not really.” A thrill ran through him as he said
the words your mother knowing they applied to his own son. His
the child asked, pulling away the slightest fraction necessary to
look up at him, an uncertain, heartsbreakingly hopeful smile on his
face, a universe of questions contained within the three-letter word.
The Doctor’s own hearts attempted to occupy too little and too much
space simultaneously, convulsing in a desperate emotion he’d never
felt in all his 900 years.
he replied, pulling his son tighter, answering at least some of them.
“Yeah. I’m your dad.” It was one of the hardest sentences he’d
ever had to say, his voice faltering halfway through. What right did
he have to claim anything of the sort, having only just dropped into
his life? But the child let out a happy sob, the sound of which
embedded itself into the Doctor’s chest, and clutched himself closer
to his waist. Both of them were trembling as they embraced in the
quiet street. The child’s hands kept clenching and unclenching in the
folds of his suit jacket, under his overcoat. They stayed that way
for a long time, the Doctor inhaling the scent of young boy that was somehow still unique to his son, all honey and bruised grass and wind and sunlight, until he felt like it was safe to
relinquish, just a little, the death grip he’d been keeping on his
sanity. It served to throw into sharp relief, however, just how
tenuous that control really was, and he knew he needed to make it to
Rose before he completely broke down. He bit back a curse. It wasn’t
fair to the child to leave him like this, but neither was it fair to
keep him on the hook for his emotional wellbeing.
your name?” the Doctor asked, all the while railing at the universe
for making it necessary for him to have to ask this question of his
Uhm…” A slightly muffled cough came from the vicinity of his
navel and the boy pulled back to look up into his face. “I’m called
The name of his son. He savoured it in his mouth, tasting out the
sounds. “It’s, oh, so very nice to finally meet you, Connor.” He
could feel tears starting in his eyes, and might have lost the battle
with them were it not for the sight of the same in his son’s eyes.
Despite his trauma, it was somehow the easiest thing in the world to
be strong for both of them. Connor’s mouth tipped up in a
too, Dad. You too.”
Doctor’s hearts stuttered in his chest, and he bent to his son’s
eye level. “Is it all right if I ask where your mum is right now,
time his son’s grin was decidedly cheeky as he gave his father one
final squeeze and let go, shoving his hands in his pockets and
rocking back on his heels. “I’m impressed, Dad. It took you a whole
fifteen minutes to ask about Mum. Were you shooting for some sort of record?”
Doctor’s hands found his own pockets, his posture mirroring his son’s
as he studied him. “I’m always impressive, me. Also, never
predictable if I can help it. More fun that way.”
sucked in a breath through his teeth, his tongue poking between them
slightly. “Dad, that was where you were supposed to say that I’m
just that brilliant and engrossing.”
Doctor winced playfully, but his eyes were serious as he caught his
son’s gaze. “Is that so? I guess I’m just rusty at this whole
fatherhood thing.” And if that isn’t the understatement of the
millennium… “You’ll have to be a bit patient with your old
nodded solemnly, wrapping his arms around his father again, an
embrace which the Doctor returned wholeheartedly. “'Course, Dad.
Always.” When he pulled back, he had a box in his hand, which he
then offered to the Doctor.
this?” he asked curiously.
for Mum,” Connor replied. “It’s why I’m not with her right now.
Apple tea. I bring her some every year, on the anniversary of…
Doctor looked about himself, taking in the early spring scent of the
air. “Do you mean to tell me it’s the fourth of March today?”
it in one, Dad. Mum said you were good.” The Doctor winked at him,
and then sobered. Apple tea. Every year, the scent of apples, and
Rose, alone with her memories the same way he’d been, without her. No more. He
let out a long breath, holding out his free hand towards his son.
then, Connor Tyler, let’s not keep your mum waiting!”
“Mickey Mouse: Merry & Scary” on DVD on August 29th
Invite Mickey and Donald into your home as they bring laughs and merriment to not one, but two holiday seasons!
“Mickey Mouse: Merry & Scary” is arriving on Disney DVD August 29, and you’ll want to catch their Halloween and Christmas hijinks! The DVD will feature two 22-minute hilarious holiday episodes:
The Scariest Story Ever: A Mickey Mouse Halloween Spooktacular!
For Halloween, Mickey has tricked out his house like a “tomb, sweet, tomb” and along with his pals, Donald and Goofy, plans to tell hair-raising Halloween stories! However, his attempt at being scary falls flatter than a pancake. Can Mickey conjure up a truly terrifying tale before the stroke of midnight?
Duck The Halls: A Mickey Mouse Christmas Special
It’s the most wonderful time of the year…to migrate south for the winter! But Donald wants to stay put and celebrate his first Christmas with his friends. Mickey creates the ultimate list of everything to make Donald’s first Christmas great, but before you can catch a snowflake on your tongue, Donald has turned into a shivering, sneezing duck-cicle!
milkovicked this ended up being way longer than i intended, but here you go. based on this prompt:
“ian asks mickey if he will go pick up his meds and mickey agrees and then ends up deciding that he’s gonna go all out and get ian chocolates and flowers and shit because he sees a flower stand on the way back to the house and there is flustered embarrassment when the flower person asks about his girlfriend and he has to explain who they’re for and same thing with the chocolates and obviously ian loves that mickey wanted to be spontaneous like that (i’m sorry i really want fluff okay lovey fluff)”
If anyone wants to shoot me a prompt for an ianxmickey one shot, head over to my ask box :)
“Have you taken your meds yet?” Mickey says, almost out of habitat this point, as he walks over to grab his mug of cold coffee from the kitchencounter.
“I will, I will.” Ian responds, waving him off, preoccupied with
playing peek-a-boo with a delighted Yev.
“Nah, man, the doctor said
you had to take them every day, come on.” Mickey reaches to open the cabinet
where they kept the little orange bottles.
“Fuck the doctor.” Ian
mumbles quietly, but Mickey hears it anyway, and sighs.
He walks over to the table,
where Ian’s sitting, facing the squealing baby.
It’s shit. Mickey hates all
of it. Mickey hates how the pills make Ian feel like he’s not self-sufficient,
like he’s sick or crazy or messed up. Like he can’t take care of himself. And
looking at how Ian’s staring blankly at the table right now makes him want to
flush the pills down the toilet. He wants to just make Ian feel better and the
most aggravating part is that he doesn’t know how to do that.
It used to be different. Ian
was always clear on what he needed, on what he wanted from Mickey. It was just
that Mickey was too scared, too defensive, to give it to him.
But now that Mickey’s let
that all go, now that he wants to give Ian everything he can, he has no idea
what it is Ian needs, and it makes him want to punch a fucking hole in the
wall. Not knowing how else to communicate this to Ian, Mickey hesitantly lets a
hand fall on Ian’s shoulder and squeezes it gently.
“Hey, come on.” Mickey says,
his voice softer now, as he sets the bottles on the table. “I know it sucks. A
lot fucking sucks right now.”
Ian turns to look up at
Mickey and gives him a little smile.
“Okay.” He says, simply, and
starts opening his pill bottles.
“What?” Mickey stares at him,
his eyebrows shooting upwards. “What, it was that fucking easy this whole
Ian laughs, easily, and it
actually makes the knot in Mickey’s stomach unclench a little. “I know I’m
being a pain in the ass about the whole med thing. I know I have to take them;
I just hate it. I hate that I have to be medicated just to feel normal.”
Mickey takes a seat next to
Ian, pausing for a second to wipe some drool off of Yevgeny’s chin.
He’s about to respond—not
that he knows what he’s even going to say—when Ian empties the second bottle
into his open palm.
Only one red pill falls into
Ian’s large, freckled hand.
“What the fuck?” Mickey
exclaims and grabs the orange bottle to look at the date. He groans. “Jesus
Ian looks at him, the
expression on his face somewhat amused.
“We forget to refill them again?”
he asks, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah,” Mickey nods, cussing himself out inside. If Lip knew he forgot again,
he’d give him that whole speech about how Ian should be staying at home “with
his family” again. “I’ll just call the pharmacy, I don’t think you need to get
He fucking hopes Ian doesn’t
need another prescription because it would take at least a week before they
could get an appointment with that fucking doctor—the one who seems to have a
permanent stick in his ass—and Mickey knows that after a week without his meds,
Ian would not be doing well.
So Mickey leaves the room,
with a kiss to the top of Yev’s head and another squeeze to Ian’s shoulder.
As he leaves, he sees Ian
shrug and swallow the last pill. At least he’s good for today.
When he returns, it’s with a
“Good news: no need for a new
prescription. Should be ready in twenty minutes. You can just grab ‘em and be
back for lunch.” Mickey says, easily falling back into his seat.
“Great.” Ian nods, with a
smile, but something’s not right. Not there.
Mickey sighs heavily and
“Okay, out with it. What’s
wrong?” he demands.
“What? Nothing,” Ian lies.
Mickey raises his eyebrows, because, seriously? Is Ian really going to try and
lie when it’s just so obvious? The way his voice goes up, the way he gets all
twitchy, Ian has more tells than a rookie at a poker game on 12th
“Spit it out.” Mickey waits,
crossing his arms.
Ian sighs and averts his eyes
away from Mickey’s face, instead choosing to focus on how Yev is avidly playing
with a set of keys in his high-chair.
“I don’t know. It’s just…that
old geezer who works down at the pharmacy always gives me these looks like…I
don’t know.” He repeats, wringing his hands uncomfortably.
Mickey thinks he knows what’s
Ian’s ashamed of needing the
pills, of having to go there and sign his name and basically admit that he
can’t function without those chemicals.
“Okay, I’ll go.” He says,
simply, already getting up.
“What? No, Mickey, it’s fine,
I can—” Ian rises as well, trying to stop Mickey, who’s already got his shoes
Mickey smiles a little to
himself and then shrugs at Ian, to indicate it’s no big deal, whatever.
“Nah, man, I promised I’d
bring Yev over to see Svet anyway—she’s been bitching about it for god knows
how long—so it’s on my way. I’ll be back in about an hour, yeah?”
It’s not exactly on the way,
but it’s close enough, and it’s not like it would make a big difference anyway.
To Mickey’s complete
surprise, Ian plants his lips on Mickey’s cheek and murmurs, “thanks”, when he
“Yeah, whatever.” Mickey
shrugs again, trying not to let Ian see the blush that’s creeping up his face.
Instead he focuses on Yevgeny, and getting him into his shoes and sweater.
“Here, let me.” Ian says,
plucking Yev out of Mickey’s arms. “You’ll need to have the prescription
number, otherwise they won’t let you get them, ‘cause they’re not under your
“Oh, right, yeah.” Mickey
nods and goes off to grab the now empty orange bottles on the table. Once he’s
copied the number off of them into his phone, he’s about to go and grab Yev to
leave, but he pauses at the doorway, and watches Ian interact with his young
“And you’re gonna get to go
see your mommy and you can tell her how much fun you had with your daddy.
Right, Yev?” the baby squeals happily as Ian fits his pudgy arms through the
sleeves of the sweater. “Yeah, that’s right!”
Mickey can’t help a smile
sneak onto his face as he watches this scene unfold in front of him. But then
Ian looks over at him and smiles, and says to Yevgeny, “looks like your daddy’s
ready to go!”
“Yeah, yeah, alright, come
here.” Mickey says, picking up Yev and settling him into stroller. He turns to
Ian to say, “back soon,” and is rewarded with Ian’s hand ruffling up his hair.
He scowls at him like he’s pissed, but Ian just grins because he knows he
Mickey finally leaves, and
begins heading over to the local pharmacy they’ve been using. Originally, Ian
wanted to use the piece of shit place down the street, where Mickey used to do
deals in the bathroom when he was fifteen, but Fiona was adamantly against it.
When Mickey surprisingly sided with his sister, Ian agreed to get his
prescriptions sent to the CVS down by where Sheila Jackson used to live.
So that’s where Mickey goes
now, and he walks in looking like quite the sight, with a sleeveless flannel
shirt sticking to his back thanks to the merciless weather of Chicago in July
and knuckles reading FUCK U-UP as his fists clench around the stroller.
An old lady with a lilac
parka and a walking stick shoots him a look that is half-terrified and
half-judgmental and Mickey grinds his teeth together. Who the fuck does this
old bitch think she is, seriously?
When she doesn’t take her
eyes off of him, he unclenches his jaw and shoots a sharp, “Can I fucking help
you?” at her. Her eyes widen and she quickly scurries away—well, as quickly as
old women can move.
Mickey smirks to himself and
approaches the counter.
“How may I help you?” the
elderly man behind the counter asks in a monotone.
“Uh, yeah, I’m picking up a prescription for Ian Gallagher?” Mickey says,
uncomfortably. He doesn’t really know how this shit works—Ian’s always picked
up his own meds, though usually with Fiona or Lip or someone with him.
The man scrutinizes him from
behind his glasses and Mickey shifts from foot to foot, awkwardly.
“You’re not Ian Gallagher.”
He says, and Mickey automatically wants to retort that that’s none of his
fucking business, but he restrains himself.
“Yeah, I’m just picking it
up.” Mickey really wants to just get the fucking pills and get the hell out of
here, and he’s starting to see why Ian hates coming here.
“Do you have the prescription
number?” the old man asks, still looking at Mickey skeptically.
“Yeah.” Mickey says, and
pulls out his phone to recite the number at him. After this, the man rolls away
on his chair to retrieve the prescription. With another glare, the elderly man
hands over the small paper bag and has Mickey sign for it, and then Mickey
turns away to go.
“Jesus, what is it with these
fucking geezers?” Mickey mumbles to himself under his breath.
He’s quicker to get over to
Kev’s house, because he doesn’t want to linger. He just wants to drop off the
kid and get the hell out of there before a Gallagher spots him.
After four insistent knocks
on his former business partner’s door though, his patience is wearing thin.
“Hey, open the fucking door!”
He yells. “Or I’m leaving the kid on the fucking front porch!”
He’s about to slam his fist
on the door again when it swings open. Kev’s there, looking flustered and out
“Oh, uh, Mickey! Good to see
you, man! What are you—?”
“Save it, man.” Mickey shoots
and pushes the stroller inside. “I don’t care that you’re banging my wife.”
“I—what?” Kev sputters, but Mickey
ignores him, because Svetlana’s just come into the room.
“I drop him off Wednesday.”
She says, simply—no bullshit, no small talk.
“Not at fucking midnight this
time either.” Mickey warns, but when Svetlana nods instead of retorting, he
sighs and says, “thanks.”
This seems to surprise her,
but she nods again and leans forward to take Yev out of the stroller.
Mickey turns to leave and Kev
follows him to the door.
“Uh, leaving already? Why don’t we, uh—?”
“Seriously, dude.” Mickey
faces him once he’s outside. “It’s not me you have to answer to.”
And with that he leaves, the
paper bag still clutched tightly in his left hand. He’s glad he got out of
there quickly, but he thinks it too soon, because as his luck would have it, he
hears a familiar voice calling, “Hey! Mickey!”
He doesn’t bother to cover
his groan as he turns around again.
“Jesus fucking Christ,
weren’t you supposed to be back at school?” he says, because God, will he ever
get rid of Lip Gallagher?
“Chill the fuck out, I was
just picking up my mail.” Lip responds.
“Right, well, if that’s all,
then I’ll just be on my—”
Before Mickey can walk away,
Lip cuts him off.
“Are those Ian’s?”
Mickey feels a primal growl
rising in his throat.
“Yeah.” He says, almost like
a challenge, like a ‘so what if they are?’
“You picked them up?” he
“Well, since I’m the one
fucking carrying them, I’m gonna say yeah, I did.” Mickey scowls at him.
To his surprise, Lip grins.
“Alright, alright, just kinda threw me off. Catch you later.”
And then he turns away from Mickey
and walks away. Mickey looks after him for a minute, wondering what the fuck
kind of interaction that was, but then shakes it off and starts heading home.
He cuts across the park to
make his trip shorter—not that you could really call that piece of shit a park.
He remembers coming here with Mandy when they were younger, just to get out of
the house, to get away from the stench of whiskey and the echoing yells coming
from their parents’ bedroom, but it’s not like the park was much better. Sure,
some kids would be there. But it was mostly drunk homeless men sleeping on the
benches, and wafer-thin cokewhores sucking guys off behind the swings.
It’s pretty much the way
Mickey remembers it. There’s a bearded man rambling on about communism to thin
air, and a girl with yellow teeth and a wasp’s nest for hair approaches him,
but he quickly waves her off.
“Hey, um, would you wanna buy
this Star Dust?” a female voice asks, almost nervously, and Mickey spares half
a glance at the small brunette before shaking her off and continuing to walk.
“Nah, I’m off the stuff. And
you’re gonna need to be way less obvious if you don’t want your ass thrown
“What?” the girl asks, and
Mickey actually stops to look at her. She’s skinny, but not heroin-skinny, and her
cheeks are full and rosy, and from the look in her big brown eyes, she really
has no idea what Mickey’s talking about.
Then he looks down at what
she has in her hands and a grin spreads over his face. Flowers. They’re
“This is what you meant?” he
asks, pointing to the white roses in her arms. She nods, unsurely.
And then Mickey starts to
laugh. Because what are the odds that he stumbles across some naïve girl trying
to sell flowers in this part of town?
“Um…does that mean you’re
gonna buy some?” she asks, still looking at him unsurely.
“Depends.” Mickey says, still
grinning. “This all you got?”
She looks more eager now, and
she shakes her head. “No, my truck’s right there.” She points, and Mickey looks
over—and sees a huge truck, parked on the curb at the end of the park, painted
a bright pink, with Carly’s Flower
Arrangements written across it in cursive writing.
He almost starts laughing
again, but instead he walks over to the truck with the flower-girl, a grin
still on his face.
He’s never been one to buy
flowers before. But then he remembered the look on Ian’s face when Mickey told
him he’d go get his meds for him, and he just feels like he should. He wants to. Even though he can’t fix Ian,
can’t save him, he needs Ian to know that he loves him. He never has before—god
knows he’s done the complete opposite—but now Ian needs him, and hell if
Mickey’s going to let him down.
The brunette jumps into the
truck and opens up a window, much like a food truck, or Lip and Kev’s old ice
“So you Carly?” he asks and
“That’s me! Hey, out of
curiosity, what did you think I was trying to sell you?” she asks, a smile now
spreading across her face.
“Well, you said star dust, so
I kinda assumed.” Mickey says, shrugging. She still doesn’t seem to understand,
just shaking her head.
He furrows his eyebrows at
“You know…star dust? Snow?
Gutter glitter?” he shoots them out like they’re members of One Direction and
he’s a 12-year-old girl.
She just looks even more
Mickey snorts. “Crack. You
know? Cocaine?” he says, slowly, and then grins as the girl blushes crimson
when understanding crosses her.
“Oh.” She mumbles.
“Yeah, you might want to
reconsider your names.” He looks back at the park, where the homeless man has
started yelling at a tree. “And maybe your location.”
She lets out a little laugh
at this. “Yeah, that might be a good idea. You’re the first guy who hasn’t
either asked me for a blowjob or told me that I’m Stalin reincarnated.”
Mickey shrugs. “What can I
say, I’m a gentleman.”
She laughs again. “Well, it’s
appreciated. So what can I get for you, if it’s not crack you’re after?”
“Fuck, I don’t know.” Mickey
says, scratching the back of his neck. How the hell is he supposed to know what
kind of flowers Ian would like? Would Ian even like flowers? Is that
Carly spares him from his
“Tell me about her.” She
He looks up at her. “Tell you
“Your girlfriend. The girl
you’re buying these flowers for. Tell me about her. What’s she like? It’ll
help, trust me.”
“Oh.” Mickey looks down and
shifts from foot to foot, which he does a lot when he’s nervous. “Well, see,
it’s not exactly like that.”
“What do you mean?” She asks,
and the confused expression she was wearing a minute ago returns.
At this, Mickey smiles a
little, because she reminds him a little bit of Ian when he was younger, when
they first started hooking up—the oblivious kid who grinned at him from behind
the glass, his stupid red hair hanging in his stupidly cute face.
“I mean, his name is Ian.”
Mickey says, confidently. “He wears a lot of shitty plaid, and he’s obsessed
with superhero movies, and he hates the smell of sandalwood, and he smiles like
a little kid but he fucks like a wild animal.”
He grins when another blush
takes over Carly’s face.
“Right. Sorry.” She mumbles.
“No worries.” He shrugs. “Any
“Oh! Yeah!” she exclaims,
suddenly chipper. “I got just the thing.”
She turns around and Mickey’s
left waiting awkwardly in front of a giant ass pink flower truck, not really
sure what to do with himself.
When she returns, she’s
holding a small bouquet of simple long white flowers. As Mickey looks at them,
he realizes they’re actually kind of perfect for Ian.
“What are they?” he asks,
unable to hold back his curiosity.
She smiles, pleased with
herself. “White dendromium orchids. I call them White Butterflies.”
Mickey stares at her and
blinks. “You can remember that but you don’t know what star dust means?”
She laughs. “You want them or
Mickey grins back. “Yeah, yeah,
I’ll take them. He’ll like them. How much?”
She smiles softly. “Just take
“Yeah, I figure I owe you
one. I’d probably end up arrested if it wasn’t for you.” She jokes, wrapping
the flowers up in newspaper and handing them to Mickey. “I hope your, uh,
boyfriend or, uh…” she stutters, awkwardly, and then pauses to take a breath.
“I hope Ian likes them.”
“Thanks.” Mickey says,
genuinely, beginning to walk away. “And do yourself a favor?” he calls back to
her. “Don’t try to sell fuckin’ flowers in the South Side!”
With that, he leaves, shaking
his head a little, incredulously.
It’s not a long walk till he
gets home, and when he closes the door behind him, he hears Ian call, “Mick? Is
“Yeah!” he yells back,
walking into the kitchen and dropping the paper bag on the table, just as Ian
He’s obviously just gotten
out of the shower, as his hair’s dripping wet and all he’s got on are a pair of
jeans. Not that Mickey’s complaining.
“Since when do you read the
newspaper?” Ian snorts, looking at what Mickey’s clutching in his left hand.
“Oh. Right. About that.” Now
Mickey starts to feel a little awkward, but he still holds up the flowers and
pushes them towards Ian.
Ian looks down, confused, but
then realization dawns upon him and he stares at Mickey, his eyes wide in
“Are these—?” he starts to
ask, but Mickey cuts him off.
“Fucking take them, would
Ian beams, wider than
Mickey’s seen him in a while, and launches himself forward to press his lips on
Mickey’s. Mickey stumbles backwards in surprise, but then melts against him,
his hand automatically finding its place on the back of Ian’s neck. It’s
exactly what Mickey will never admit that he loves—sweet and soft, yet fierce
and full of emotion and Ian playfully bites Mickey’s bottom lip before he pulls
“Thank you.” He says, resting
his forehead against Mickey’s.
Mickey shrugs. “They’re just
Ian laughs. “You’re an idiot.”
“Hey!” Mickey says, defensively.
Ian just laughs again and
pulls Mickey back to him, so he can mold their lips together again.
“Don’t get why you’re so into
all that cheesy shit.” Mickey mumbles when they come up for air.
“Then why do you do it?” Ian
Mickey shrugs it. “’Cause you
Ian looks at him, like he’s
trying to figure something out.
“What?” Mickey asks, uncomfortable.
“Nothing.” Ian responds, still smiling, and wraps his arms around Mickey’s
waist, nestling his face into his neck and then murmuring against the soft skin
there, “love you, too.”
Vera Bradley and Disney have teamed up to bring you two new patterns: “Midnight with Mickey” (Right) and “Just Mousing Around” (left). They’ll be released in the fall and you’ll find them on duffel bags, totes, cosmetic bags and many more items! You’ll be able to purchase them at Disneyland and Walt Disney World Resorts. They’ll also be sold on the Disney Parks online store at a future date in the fall. For all my followers in Florida you can get a sneak peek at the patterns in Epcot at the Festival center between Mission: SPACE and Universe of Energy in Future World through March 6-May 19, 2013.
To me this is a dream come true! My two favorite things in the world now as one! I know what I’ll be doing come Fall!
Well September 21, 2013 to be exact. You guys first heard about the collab between Vera Bradley and Disney in March and I’m pleased to say, six months later, that Vera and Disney have decided on a release date.
For those of you who need a refresher, Vera Bradley and Disney have collaborated to make two new patterns: Midnight with Mickey (top) and Just Mousing Around (bottom) which will be available on several popular styles.
There will be a special release party for the patterns in Florida, on September 21st, at the World of Disney in the Downtown Disney Marketplace. The event starts at 7:30 a.m and offers people the first chance to buy the collection.
For all my Californians, you’ll be able to buy these items on Monday, September 23, at the Disneyland Resort.
If you can’t visit the Disney Parks anytime soon, you can visit the Disney Parks online storestarting some day in October 2013.
Are you guys excited? What pattern are you going to buy? For me it’ll definitely be a cosmetic bag in Midnight with Mickey!