sick mickey

Accomodations

(for @mhunter10 who kept giving me suggestions on this series …though im not sure she remembers)

Lip helps Ian out with building some renovations to make life easier for Mickey as his illness progresses. Mickey isn’t too happy about that.

“What happened to only needing my help for an hour or two?” Lip asks jokingly.

“Sorry,” Ian says as he lays another plaster of wood by his brother.  “Didn’t think it’d take so long to make a fuckin ramp.”

“I’m just surprised Mickey was fine with this. Seems a bit in denial…”

Ian gives a guilty expression.

“He knows you’re doing this right?”

Ian shrugs. “He’ll find out when he wakes up.”

“Jesus, Ian,” Lip laughs. “Make sure I’m not here when that happens huh?”

Ian rolls his eyes and hands Lip the hammer. He asked Lip for help accommodating the house to fit Mickey’s… needs. Though Mickey could get like fairly okay for the time being Ian didn’t see any harm in getting a head start. It’ll be easier to explain to Mickey when the house is finished.

“Looks like that’s not gonna happen though…” Lip mumbles.

Ian gives him a questioning look.

Lip gestures his head to behind Ian.

“Fuck is this?” Mickey groans, his voice groggy.

Ian closes his eyes. “Shit,” he says softly, only Lip being able to hear it and his brother looks away.

“Awkward…”

Ian turns and stands up. “Mickey! I uh… thought you were sleeping.”

“Yeah well clearly I’m not anymore.” Mickey says, grumpily, rubbing his eyes.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the couch,” Lip says.

Mickey looks at Lip with a hint of anger but also like he didn’t notice him until now. He looks at the work Ian and Lip are doing and his brows furrow.

“…What is this…?” He asks again, slowly, accusatory.

“It’s just…” Ian sighs, no way around it just tell him. “A ramp. For…well.”

“Ohh,” Mickey starts and Ian breathes a sigh of relief that he didn’t have to elaborate. Mickey got it.

“You and Philip here thinking of becoming professional skateboarders huh?” Mickey continued. Oh he got it alright and clearly he’s not happy.

Ian rubs his eye with his hand in frustration. “Mickey…”

He opens back his eyes to Mickey shaking his head. “You just can’t wait huh?”

“What?” Ian says, his face with slight disgust. He knows where this is going.

“Can’t wait for me to get sick enough so your fucking work can be put to use can you?”

Ian bites his lip and looks away from Mickey. “You know that’s not true.”

They hear someone clear their throat and look towards Lip.

“Look I don’t mean to interrupt-“

“Then don’t.” Mickey snaps back. “I’m gonna take a fucking shower.”

Ian shakes his head as Mickey walks back into the house.

“I mean he did sleep for like 4 hours I’m not saying that-“

“Oh shit!” Ian interrupts Lip and runs inside behind Mickey.

He makes it to the bathroom meeting an even less happy looking Mickey.

“And what exactly is this shit?” Mickey asks uncrossing his arms and pulling back the curtain forcefully.

He reveals the white shower grab bar he installed earlier in the day.

“Look, Mick. It’s not like you’re not gonna use it…” Ian starts.

Mickey nods, looks towards the object, and starts pushing on the buttons to release it.

“What’re you doing?”

“Getting rid of this shit.” Mickey gets the right amount of pressure and the bar comes off. Damn suction things. “There.”

Mickey walks out of the bathroom carrying it and throws it in the bedroom.

“Mickey! For fucks sake.”

Mickey gets back in the bathroom and slams the door shut.

Ian breathes in harshly, exhausted from this damn dance they do all the time since they got the diagnosis. Ian sits on the bed for a quick minute, running his hands through his hair and down his face. He gets up and heads back outside to finish up that project.

They’re out there for another half hour and head inside as soon as they’re done, both sweating from head to toe. Ian offers Lip a beer soon realizing Mickey wasn’t out. What is he sulking in the bedroom?

Ian rolls his eyes at the thought and finishes the water he had got himself. When Lip gets to the end of his beer Ian excuses himself.

“Well I’m gonna shower all this fuckin sweat off. Thanks for the help again.”

Lip takes the swig. “No problem, man. Need anything else just let me know.”

Ian smiles back at his brother as Lip disposes of the bottle and heads out the door.

He starts taking off his shirt as he heads to the bathroom. He stops when he realizes the water is still running. He furrows his brow. “Mick?” He knocks on the door. “Mickey, come on. I get you’re pissed but you really don’t need to waste the hot water.” Ian gets no answer causing him to roll his eyes. “Come on, man. Jesus.”

Ian waits and still hears silence besides the shower running. “Mickey?” He asks again, his gut now giving him a feeling. He jiggles the handle and upon discovering it’s not locked starts to open it. “Mickey? You in here?” he calls out again. He notices it’s empty though Mickey’s clothes are on the floor and the towel is still on the rack.

“Ian?” He hears, so softly and against the water hitting the tile he can barely make it out.

“Mickey?” Ian calls out again and pulls the shower curtain back. He finds the dark haired man sitting on the floor of the shower, his legs to his chest, and his head in his hands.

He looks up to Ian, water dripping from his hair. Ian’s heart is in his throat and he almost wants to cry but he doesn’t let Mickey see it.

“What happened?” Ian asks softly.

“I,” Mickey shakes his head slowly. “I just got so tired.”

“Did you fall?”

“No.” Mickey breathes in harshly and Ian notices he’s shivering slightly. Mickey buries his head in his arms again.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Ian assures him and rubs Mickey’s leg. “It’s okay.”

Mickey nods, still not showing his face again.

“Let’s turn this water off, huh?” Ian speaks softly again. Almost like talking to a child. He didn’t like this. He moves his arm over to the faucet and turns it off. He rubs Mickey’s bare back. “Mickey…”

Mickey looks back at him. His face showing shame.

“It’s alright.”

Mickey nods, accepting Ian’s words. Ian grabs the towel and drapes it over Mickey’s shoulders. He rubs him with it trying to dry him off a little. “I’m gonna get you some clean clothes, okay?”

“Okay,” Mickey says quietly, his body still shaking from the cold.

Ian comes back in a few minutes later with clean clothes and he helps Mickey out of the shower. “I got you,” he repeats over and over.

Mickey sighs and wipes his eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Ian brushes his apology away. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you warm and dry okay?”

Mickey nods again, putting on his dry sweat pants as Ian takes the towel away and gives Mickey a t shirt and an old, but comfortable, sweat shirt.

Mickey, now fully dressed, stays seating on the closed toilet seat. He can’t look at Ian just rubs his eyes. “So fuckin embarrassing.” He mumbles but Ian hears him.

He says nothing just rubs Mickey’s upper arm until he swallows his embarrassment and is able to look up at his boyfriend.

Ian just offers a sad smile. “You want to go back to bed? You know it’s okay to-“

Mickey swallows and nods.

A few days later he’ll apologize again for his reaction and Ian will give him a hard time about it, jokingly. And after resting for a while Mickey will try to take his illness seriously.

  • Fiona: Mickey will light a match to your life.
  • Me: *clears throat* My dearest Fiona, do you remember when Ian went missing? MICKEY IS THE ONE WHO WENT AFTER HIM. MICKEY IS THE ONE WHO BROUGHT HIM HOME. Remember when Ian got sick? Mickey was the one who took care of him as scared as he was.Mickey came out to his homophobic father for the love of his life. He went to jail FOR Ian. He let Ian stay at his place instead of a crappy home for teen boys. Mickey defended him from old perverts. He went and bought Ian's pills. He went with Ian to his doctor appointment. Oh, he also went with you when Ian went to the hospital, remember that? Sure Mickey had issues just as you all do, but Mickey fought all of them just to be with Ian. HE FUCKING LOVES IAN. HE WOULD DRAG THE MOON DOWN FROM THE FUCKING SKY AND GIVE IT TO IAN IF HE COULD. thE ONLY MATCH THAT WILL BE LIT IS THE ONE I SHOVE UP YOUR ASS FOR EVEN SAYING SOMETHING SO STUPID. You fuckING SAW WHAT MICKEY MEANT TO IAN. YOU SAW HOW MICKEY WAS REALLY THE ONLY ONE WHO COULD GET THROUGH TO HIM. WHO CALMED HIM DOWN. HE WENT MISSING WITH MICKEY AND YALL DIDN'T BOTHER CONTACTING HIM. MICKEY IS THE ONLY FAMILY THAT IAN REALLY HAD. MICKEY IS THE ONLY ONE WHO GAVE A SHIT. AND THE FUNNY THING IS? YOU ALL HAVE BEEN THERE FOR ALL OF IAN'S LIFE. MICKEY CAME IN LATER AND YET HE GAVE IAN MORE LOVE AND CARED FOR THAT BOY MORE THAN YALL DID OK BYE.

mickeyandscroogefangirl replied to your photoset “Sometimes you just need a little quiet reassurance.  Good ol’ Unca…”

You know, to not notice something like that, I have to wonder… each time I’ve watched this episode, where was I looking in that shot? (And any more you may share?) You’d think it would be the Ducks all the time, but maybe not.

I know when I’d watch that episode I usually paid attention to the captain because he was talking, it was only on the watching where I took those caps that I saw Scrooge and Louie for the first time, and IT WAS NOT FAIR.

Let’s see, what are some other moments I could share that I’ve noticed…  Some of these are a bit more blatant than others, but I still like that they put in all these touches.

Here’s a few from “Micro Ducks From Outer Space”

Scrooge protecting the kids whenever THEY NEARLY GET RUN OVER

Stopping to help Webby up into the “boat”

And catching Webby when she nearly falls off

For more “PROTECT THE CHILDREN” flavor, here’s one from “Curse of Castle McDuck”:

This next one isn’t one of the feelsier ones and I’m only putting in one cap of this one since it’s a whole sequence, but there’s the time the episode “Nothing To Fear” referenced Mickey’s Christmas Carol.

They did it nearly lock for lock, including the one going down into the floor.

Over in the DuckTales movie we also have the background gag(?) of Dewey trying to put out Scrooge’s tail fire.

This isn’t a good cap but it at least shows you where to look >>

And then there’s the kids’ faces during the OH DEAR GOD WE ALMOST LOST LOUIE segment.  I don’t recommend freezeframing through it (which of course means, please do).

For a final little easily missed(?) thing, Scrooge straight up sneezes in Louie’s face in “Scroogerello”

someone write/draw a thing where it’s Louie’s turn to come down with the freaking flu

SO YEAH. Plenty of extra details in DuckTales, a bunch about family stuff and some not. These are just the ones off the top of my head that I had caps on hand for, but there’s definitely others out there.

Maybe my next photoset will be about times where Louie was still the evil triplet, even before the “Louie the evil triplet” gag existed >.>

He looks so fucking old. Look how these few seconds aged him nearly twenty years.

A lesser lover would have been too wrapped up in thinking “this is goodbye”. “This may be the last time I’ll ever see him again”.

Not here.

This is the face of a man who is so wrapped up in another’s well-being, he’s not even considering how damn sad this all is. He’s not mourning an ending, a goodbye. He’s fucking rejoicing Mickey’s New Beginning.

All those times Mickey got caught were flashing before his eyes just a second ago.
He’s not thinking about how THEY could never be together, how things never worked out for THEM.

No. The only thing on his mind is MICKEY. All those times Mickey was hauled away. Beaten. Arrested. All those times MICKEY could never catch a break.

We will never know why Ian didn’t go. Maybe he was considering his own future. Maybe he was thinking about what a burden he would cause Mickey, with finding meds and treatment and “this isn’t me” harkened back to a time where he had the LUXURY of just taking off without repercussions. Maybe Ian realizes his own self wouldn’t let him get away with that. Maybe he didn’t want to grow bitter at Mickey later on like he had before.

Or maybe it dawned on him that every time Mickey’s life got fucked over - since that bullet to the leg in the Kash n’ Grab - it was because of Ian. Because of them being together. Because of Ian’s sickness. Because he KNOWS Mickey would stick with him no matter what and Ian KNOWS he was always selfish enough to use Mickey as an outlet for his anger. Perhaps “this isn’t me” meant “I am not the same fickle bratty boy who would keep you around as my protector, my outlet, my buffer, my blanket, my punching bag, my obsession, even though I was too selfish to care I was driving your life deeper into hell.”

We will never know.

But what we do know, just from that one look, is that for the first time in his life, Ian puts Mickey before their own relationship, and Mickey’s safety, Mickey’s life, is the only thing that matters.

And he thinks “There is Mickey, and there is only Mickey.”

anonymous asked:

consider: mickey being lowkey really protective of ian + nearly having an aneurism when he so much as like... sniffles ("do you need tissues what about orange juice that's good for colds right?? I can make you soup"... etc)

He’s so embarrassing, cause it’s not even lowkey at all, he just has these intense mother hen instincts??? He’s like constantly putting a hand to Ian’s forehead to check his temp and obsessively making sure he’s hydrated.

And he kinda hovers real close even though Ian’s all I don’t wanna get you sick, just leave me here to die (Ian is twice as dramatic when he gets sick). And Mickey’s like um bish?? I dont get sick. Ever. Cos he’s hardcore y'know?

So when Ian gets the chills, Mickey insists on cuddling until they’re warm and cards fingers through Ian’s hair until he’s lulled to sleep.

BuT!! Then the next morning Mickey wakes up and enters a sneezing fit bcos SOMEBODY lied about being indestructible. And ofc Ian fawns all over him cause the only thing cuter than regular healthy Mickey is a grumpy, glassy-eyed, sniffly Mickey.

the outsiders in disney world

99.9% this has been done before but whatever

steve:
-highkey an adrenaline junkie
-rides space mountain 8282826 times when in magic kingdom
-rock n roller coaster 8282826 times in hollywood studios
-expedition everest 8282826 times in animal kingdom
-test track 8282826 times in epcot
-makes soda go with him
-refuses to ride any of the kiddie rides
-its a small world? forget it.
-won’t watch any of the shows either
-“those are boring no way”

soda:
-goes on all the rollercoasters with steve
-gets sick
-eats like 20 mickey premium bars anyway
-goes on kiddie rides by himself bc steve won’t go with
-the characters creep him out
-“chip and dale look shifty, i’m not talking to them”
-did i mention mickey premium bars
-runs from place to place
-goes in like every store
-still doesn’t buy anything

ponyboy:
-does not wear appropriate walking shoes
-b l i s t e r s
-buys books tbh
-nerd
-gets its a small world stuck in his head
-like he’s just standing there
-“it’s a small world after a-…DAMMIT”
-matching mickey ears with johnny slaglahajshshs
-mesmerized by happily ever after at mk/illuminations at epcot/fantasmic at hs/rivers of light at ak

darry:
-stressed mom
-mostly spends the whole day walking around and finding the gang to make sure they’re not being dumb
-indulges himself in some foreign cuisine at epcot
-takes power naps on slow rides or during shows
-tries to find a souvenir for each member of the gang
-gives up and gets them all the same cap
-“seven of the same hat?”
-“don’t question it”
-doesn’t bother with wait times over 30 minutes
-makes everyone get a group photo

johnny:
-v smiley the whole time
-rides e v e r y t h i n g
-kiddie ride or thrill ride, doesn’t matter
-eats so. many. churros.
-like, an unhealthy amount of churros to be consumed in one day.
-“johnny you’ve had like six…”
-“I AM ENJOYING MYSELF PONYBOY”
-gets freaked out riding the haunted mansion
-i said it before but matching mickey ears with pony :’)))))
-thinks the fireworks are pretty and all but has to cover his ears aw

dallas:
-tries to fight the characters
-or throws shit at them
-is never seen without popcorn
-“how many of those have you eaten dal”
-“none of your business”
-almost punches pony every time he starts singing its a small world
-rides rollercoasters even though he’s lowkey freaked out
-makes obnoxiously loud rude comments during shows
-hits on the princesses
-johnny tries to make him wear mickey ears too and he would eventually give in

two-bit:
-i think it goes without saying that he gets a picture with mickey mouse
-he’s so excited omg my boi
-“IM YOUR BIGGEST FAN”
-buys a couple things for his sister
-like johnny, rides every damn ride
-and eats everything he can find
-buys the mickey ear hats
-randomly asks the cast members stupid questions
-the type to ask if he can just stay on the ride and go again instead of having to go back in line
-meets pluto, goofy, donald, minnie, etc. as well as mickey

Happy March 4th!

Happy March 4th, y’all! On this day in 2005, Rose Tyler met the Doctor.

Originally posted by runnslp

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)

He 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.

“Are 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.

He 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.

“Do you need a Doctor?”

He 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.”

His 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 impossible.

What?

He 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.”

The 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 slipping away.

“Hey, 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?

The 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.

He has her eyes.

That 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.

He 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.

What.” 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…

“Ginger?!”

“Yup!” 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.”

The 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.

The 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.

He 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.

“You know… who I am, then?” he asked, unsure of how to broach such a massively emotional topic.

“'Course 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.”

The Doctor felt a small, but genuine smile cross his face for the first time in a very long time. “No, certainly not,” he agreed.

“I 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.

The 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 Rose.

“Dad?” 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.

“Yes,” 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.

“What’s 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 own son.

“Oh! 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 Connor.”

“Connor.” 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 watery smile.

“You too, Dad. You too.”

The 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, Connor?”

This 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?”

The 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.”

Connor 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.”

The 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 man, yeah?”

Connor 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.

“What’s this?” he asked curiously.

“It’s 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… well…”

The 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?”

“Got 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.

“Well then, Connor Tyler, let’s not keep your mum waiting!”

Creepypasta #1291: My First And Last Time Ding Dong Ditching

Length: Long

This happened not that long ago when I was 14. It was the middle of summer, and I was spending the night at a friend’s house. In total, there were four of us there that night, and in order to preserve confidentiality, I will refer to those friends as Jim, James and Tom. The four of us had just come back to Jim’s house after an hour of exercise at one of those trampoline jump places. It was late by the time we returned, but we all decided that the night was still young and to stay out for a while. Typical rambunctious teens right?

I remember checking my phone to see that it was 10 o’clock. Now, I was always very precautious when it came to venturing through the late hours of the night, especially in an unfamiliar area. I went along with the idea due to the facts that: A: We were in a large group B: Jim’s neighborhood was well lit thanks to a great number of lamp posts C: I knew that we all were carrying phones and were fast runners in case of an emergency.

I figured we would be fine. That was my first mistake. After a good hour of walking through the illuminated upper-class boulevard and engaging in discussions that only the brain of a 14 year old male would find riveting, we came to the end of the street. A rather dilapidated metal gate stood before us in obscene contrast from the modern look of the previous houses. A particularly foreboding dead end sign stared at the four of us. Beyond the obstacle was a barren expanse of ground and dirt piles. It looked as if it was in the fetal stages of becoming a suburb. Three of us stopped in our tracks, but Jim oddly kept walking. I piped up.

“Wait, Jim, we’re leaving? But there’s nothing out there but a buncha dirt.”

“No, there’s another neighborhood back there.”

I pulled out my phone again and saw that it was already 11. No wonder my legs had began getting tired. We had been walking for about an hour, albeit very slowly, but that plus the jumping from earlier was starting to take its toll. 

Luckily James added, “I dunno dude, don’t you want to just go back to your place and chill? It’s gettin late bro.”

Jim had already hopped the gate when he said, “C’mon guys don’t be wusses.”

And so, the four of us continued our journey into the next neighborhood. Second mistake. Now I need to mention the layout of this neighborhood because it will be important later. While Jim’s neighborhood was practically a giant circle, this place seemed to be just one single street. Though this wasn’t the only difference. As soon as I set foot on the dark gravel of the road, I knew something wasn’t right. I wasn’t sure what it was at the time… something just felt off.

My senses can probably be attributed to the fact that this neighborhood was much darker. Compared to this, Jim’s street might as well have been the red carpet. Not only were there not as many streetlights, but it was as if all the previously bright stars had been blown out like candles and the moon had been covered by a cloud dense enough to just constrict its glowing beam.

As we walked, I also noticed that the energy felt off. Like it was too quiet and we weren’t supposed to be there. We were walking into an open crypt, and it was only a matter of time before the gravekeeper came for us trespassers. As we walked, it was apparent that our previously carefree and lax chatter had been replaced with an apprehensive silence. Though when we began to see a faint light illuminating from a little ways ahead of us, we began to slowly regain our composure.

As we neared, it turned out that light source was coming from a streetlight and I also noticed that the seemingly one way street had a left turn and it was on this corner which the streetlight sat. Though the strange thing about this corner was that rather than it being a turn into another long street like the one we had been walking on, it simply turned into one house. No more accompanied it on either side and the road which it was on literally ended right after this one house. We all thought this was peculiar and in a way kinda funny. So of course, when Jim suggested we ding dong ditch someone, we all knew the house to pick. Third mistake.

The actual process of the ditch went perfectly. James, Tom and I hid in a bush on the property as Jim snuck up and delivered three startling blows to the front door. Almost immediately after the knock, a light turned on inside one of the upstairs windows. The four of us took this as our cue to book it out of there. Though in the excitement and commotion of running away, we had made a wrong turn down the unfamiliar street rather than heading back in the direction of the dirt mounds and Jim’s neighborhood. 

Keep reading

domestic gallavich things that need to be talked about more:

- mickey trying to make ian dinner, ends up burning boxed mac n cheese. ian loves it anyways and refuses to listen to mickey apologizing
- ian and mickey grocery shopping. idk why this is so cute to me but I keep imagining mickey trying to buy a box of every flavor of poptarts or something equally as ridiculous + ian having to talk him into only getting one
- mickey not being scared to touch ian when they’re at home together!!! mickey always having a hand on ian or leaning against him or touching him somehow!!
- happy mickey!!!! mickey laughing at ian’s stupid jokes and innuendos, mickey smiling, mickey not having to act tough all the time and letting his guard down!!
- ian and mickey spending an entire rainy day cuddling on the couch and watching horror movies (mickey getting scared shitless by paranormal horror movies and ending up refusing to sleep that night so ian stays up and holds him until they both fall asleep w/ mickey’s head in ian’s lap
- mickey teaching yevgeny how to fight dirty, ian teaching yevgeny all the hand-to-hand stuff he learned in ROTC (much to svetlana’s horror)
- ian getting sick and mickey totally losing his shit and ditching work to take care of him, like making him soup and trying to get him to take a bath and drink way too much OJ because he read somewhere it’s good for sick people
- ian working late one night and coming home to mickey passed out sitting at their dining table w/ a half-empty cup of coffee next to him

a whole new level of shit

Shameless is that show you watch and think “okay we reached the bottom” and then.. Surprise! They reach a whole new level of worst.

And I don’t think Cam has lost the capability of acting just because he is playing a shit role now - he does what they write. And what they write for his character in this season is SHIT. sorry, but it is. And it doesn’t mean that the writers agree with all the bullshit they make Ian say etc, but the entire story sucks.

Ian showed just a bit of his mental disease on the first episodes (he seemed to be just a bit too nervous), and in the remaining episodes he seems to be “normal” af, or at least really more normal than the past season.
I know perfectly that bipolar disease acts on alternate phases, but in a fiction I think it’s very forced. CASUALLY now Ian feels better, doesn’t feel the need of having sex so often, he wants the love story, the good guy, he has the patience to wait for the good timing with his brand new boyfriend.

Ian si no more the sweet carrot cupcake of the first seasons, and he’s not even the sexy tormented young man of the last ones. He’s a completely different character with the face of Ian Gallagher. The worst thing about it is there was no evolution between season5-Ian and season6-Ian. The character is badly written, not to talk about Caleb, the clichè-guy. Black, son of a protestant priest, with a good job and a creative hobby, now HIV+……….oh really? Come on.
And I don’t want to talk about the fact that he laughed of the story of Mickey being raped by a hooker (I can accept it because, yes, it may be that he didn’t think it was a real thing but just a story told by Ian to impress him or something of the kind, idk), he’s just a conglomeration of shit put there only to serve a sort of redemption to Ian.

Really the writers want us to dream about their love story?
An 8 EPISODES “love” story?? 
Okay, Noel wasn’t available for filming the season, and I accept that It could be difficult for the writers to think about a new storyline for Ian but…….really there were no other option?

Like, I dunno, Ian being sad about Mickey when he’s alone, Ian that process the loss without the haste of putting him in a relationship, Ian that NOT SO FAST find someone else (black, white, yellow, transparent, alien, it doesn’t matter a fuck) and slowly accept his new life without Mickey?

Was that too much…?


Disgusted. 

temporaliter  asked:

after all the garbage, I mean 'news', we've been hearing about s7, do you have any fic recommendations? anything good you've read lately? I'm looking to erase the whole of s7 (and 6 and 5, too, if I'm honest) from my mind :P

Originally posted by britivana

I don’t know what this gif is, but it felt accurate. Here’s a quick list of fix its, old classics that have really stuck in my mind, and a bunch of new stuff. FIC AWAY.

Amazing fix-its season by season

Mickey Mantle vs. the T-Rex, by ZoePlacid, was written between s4 and s5 and it’s so incredibly well written and beautiful. It’s very sad, but hopeful in the best kinda realistic way. Ian/Mickey & Mandy working together.

Once a Gallagher, by merle_p. Great post season 5 fix it, the Gallaghers love Mickey and fight to keep him around. Ian fights for Mickey. Mickey & Lip bonding <3

We’re Not Scared & Familiar by MimiLaRue are two really brilliant post season 5 fix its that I love. Beautifully written and really lovely, and I’m a sucker for the tag ‘magical realism’. 

The New Year by LanJevinson (even though I haven’t read the second part yet because my fragile feels can’t handle it - I need to get a grip) are literally canon for me since I stopped watching the show.

Bunch o’ classic AU

The Halfway House by MintSauce is one of my early absolute favorites, it’s my fic equivalent to comfort food.

Rookie Mistakes by Delgay. Classic hockey AU is classic for a reason

Absolutely everything The Rat has written, but especially Flyboy and the Gearhead (space mechanic Mickey and pilot Ian and probably my favourite fic ever), Make the change (Mickey tries to get laid and Ian drives a cab, I think about this one a lot and my whole brain kinda hums it’s so good) & Test Run (I might be a lil biased, but this Star Wars AU is a triumph) <3 <3 <3 <3 like seriously 

I’d follow your love down a dead end street, by ZoePlacid, 10/10 makes me ugly-cry and 100% my favourite soulmate fic ever. 

Twenty-One, oh man, dystopian future AU. I haven’t read the last part (I have a problem, OK? I need to take my time with things that are long and emotional and brilliant) but yes. Vive la revolution.

Twelve Months. Y’all probably already read everything that Anomalously has written, and I could be recommending A World Alone or The Boyfriend Experience because they’re brilliant. But this is a short beautiful thing that I’ve re-read time and time again and it always makes me feel a little bit better about whatever ails me.

Eighty-four by kissteethstainred, I have a thing for numbers in titles. Judging by the number of kudos likely is you’ve read it, but hey. It’s time-traveling and kismet and a whole lot of warm feels, go on. Re-read it.

Ongoing and new stuff that are really great

Dealbreaker by Gemmavich, really nice AU about a bet but no unnecessary drama and a lot of sexual tension and feelings. (edit: argh I can’t believe I spaced on writing the author’s handle on this one and didn’t notice for so long, I suck)

Backdrifting, by Violet_Jones. Smart and funny about Ian and Mickey breaking up in season 3 and then reconnecting several years down the road.

Rhythm, by ObsidianQuill, is on its last chapter now, can you believe it? Mpreg, but also kind of a season 5 fix it and a really good one at that. 

Mickey Milkovich is Hot, by kubrickpotter, is a sexy, funny, properly well written smutty thing about everyone wanting a piece of Mickey (Carl just found a second dvd, this is gonna be goooood)

Hope is the thing with feathers, by Drago, super cute new AU, Ian buys a couple of birds and gets hung up on the guy selling them.

I’ll keep holding on by GaleTheSnail, canon compliant up to and including 6x1, wip about Mickey and Ian reconnecting after 8 years. Really good read so far.

Just a piece of paper, by PrettyCalypso. I’m slightly obsessed with this story? Mickey gets released early and because of a diagnosis agrees to marry Ian for insurance purposes. It’s a bit bleak, no-nonsense but hopeful, and probably not for everyone (totally get it if no one ever wants to read about Mickey being sick, ever) but I really, really like it.

Kiss your fist and punch me in the mouth by xSheepie. Boxing AU that’s looking real good so far. Mickey is a trainer and Ian has an older boyfriend who is probably about to get royally dumped.

It’s a deal, by shamelesstravesties, sweet high school AU escapism batman. Ian has a shitty boyfriend and, let’s face it, Mickey is irresistible. 

Feels like we only go backwards, by Violentsdelight. Mickey gets out and tries to figure out his life. I know I’ve read the first two chapters but I can’t remember if I’ve read more. I remember it seemed very promising!

The Ex by LivingInWonderland, Ian and Mickey reconnect in New York. It’s heavy on emotion and really takes its time to sort through and mend everything that happened in canon.

There’s probably a lot more but I need to stop at some point : (

Hey canon,

Originally posted by itsjoex

Kiss It.

Mickey was trashed. Not regular trashed but the kind where you wave your hand in front of your face and can’t tell how many fingers you’re holding up or even whose fuckin’ hand it is in the first place.

“Take one more bite. C’mon, you gotta eat or you’re gonna be sick.”

Mickey squinted, closing one eye and fixing the slice of pepperoni pizza Ian was holding out in front of his face. The wind was bitterly cold and the cheese on the pizza was firming as it hovered before his eyes.

“Nah, I ain’t gonna puke and I don’t want that shit. If I’m gonna eat anything it’s gonna be your sweet, ginger ass!”

“One more bite of this and then maybe I’ll let you have that for dessert?”

Ian smiled and ran his fingertips through Mickey’s black hair gently, almost reverently.

“Promise?”

“Do I have to?”

Ian retorted and laughed as Mickey seized the slice and crammed the entire thing into his mouth, chewing openly. If anyone else had done it it would have been gross but somehow even with an overly stuffed mouthful of food, Mickey was beautiful to Ian.

“Alright tough guy, I ate your fuckin’ pizza, I ain’t gonna puke, get your ass inside and get in bed.”

“Make me.”

Ian grinned and retreated teasingly as Mickey advanced toward him.

“You want me to put you over my shoulder? Fuckin’ carry you, huh?”

“You couldn’t lift me.”

Mickey bit his lip and rolled his shoulders, he loved it when Ian challenged him – pushed him – it made him feel alive and brought out a playfulness that Mickey had never known he had until he got with Gallagher.

“I’m gonna carry you inside but fuck you if you think I’m carryin’ you all the way to the bed like a fuckin’ princess or some shit. I’m dumping you on the couch and havin’ you right there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Ian stopped dodging away and came in close, ducking his head and meeting Mickey’s lips hard enough to leave bruises. Their tongues gelled and Ian closed his eyes, revelling in the taste and nearness of his man.

“I love you.”

He whispered, the words curling up in the air between them in a visible mist before getting lost in the cold Chicago night air.

“I fuckin’ love you too. You know that right?”

Ian nodded, the words were intense and urgent, vital and real just like everything about Mickey. He opened his eyes and found Mickey looking at him in a way that was entirely without humour, almost fierce.

“You OK?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking that one day, one day I’m gonna marry you.”

“Fuck off!”

Ian laughed but Mickey caught his chin and held his gaze

“I mean it, Ian. I’m gonna fuckin’ marry you.”

Ian blinked and swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

“You proposing to me? Now?”

“What? No! Fuck!”

Mickey shook his head and stepped back, looking down at his filthy parka and ripped jeans, his hands not exactly dirty but definitely not clean

“No, I wouldn’t do that. Not like this. I’m a fuckin’ mess and you deserve … I don’t know … fuckin’ … roses! Or some romantic shit anyway. I don’t know but you deserve better than this. No, man, I ain’t proposing to you now.”

The look of disappointment on Ian’s face made Mickey’s stomach clench and he once again stepped in close, this time reaching up to cup Ian’s face between his hands

“But I will, one day.”

“Promise?”

“Do I fuckin’ have to?”

Mickey smiled gently, echoing Ian’s earlier words. Ian gave him a small smile in return, some of the sorrow leaving his face as he contemplated the future.

“OK.”

“Good. Now …”

Mickey ducked down, like a boxer, faster than Ian had given him credit for and with a huge grunt of effort, lifted Ian up over his shoulder and only staggered a little as he stood.

“Fuck! You’re a heavy son of a bitch!”

“Drop me I’ll kick your ass!”

Ian laughed and Mickey rolled his eyes before slapping his boyfriends butt, hard.

“Shut up, dipshit. You ain’t kicking shit.”

Mickey navigated the steps up to the house as best he could, one arm wrapped tightly around the back of Ian’s legs, the other gripping the flimsy hand railing for balance. He kicked the door open, almost toppling them both down the steps again but regained his balance with a triumphant grunt.

True to his word he dumped Ian on the sofa and began stripping off his coat as he stood over the younger man.

“Told you I could fuckin’ carry you.”

“Yeah, you sure showed me.”

Ian unbuckled his belt and kicked his jeans off before tugging his sweater and shirt off and casting them aside.

“Come here.”

He beckoned, one finger crooked and like the tide responding to the pull of the moon, Mickey found himself drawn into Gallagher’s embrace, their legs twining and lips touching with familiar intimacy.

“Feel that.”

Ian pressed Mickey’s hand to the seat of his boxers

“That where I hit you?”

Mickey asked quietly, massaging the warm spot beneath his fingers.

“Yeah. You like it?”

“I do.”

Mickey’s heart was hammering in his chest and the alcohol in his system seemed to evaporate as every one of his senses heightened and honed in on Ian.

“Kiss it for me.”

Mickey eased the fabric away from Ian’s flesh and knelt beside the sofa. He kissed the blushing skin gently, his lips barely grazing the soft curve of Ian’s rear and then tentatively, almost questioningly, ran his tongue over it. Ian made a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan and arched his back. Mickey slipped his hand beneath Ian’s raised hips and smiled, squeezing hard, then gently working his wrist back and forth, his teeth grazing the swell of Ian’s ass, biting gently at the joining of his thigh and then a little harder into the firm muscle of his leg.

He heard Ian gasp his name and saw the muscles of his back flex and ripple as the shudder of his orgasm ran through his body and he sat back grinning.

“My turn tough guy.”

Ian looked up from beneath the fiery sweep of his red hair, a sleepy smile on his lips

“You bet it is.”

Mickey lay back on the floor and closed his eyes, blissfully happy and completely at peace with the world, waiting for Ian to work his magic and send fireworks skittering across his vision and bring him as close to God as Mickey Milkovich ever wanted to get.    

8

“Don’t make me go, Mickey.”

“Fuck, Ian, you’re not okay.”

“I need you, please, we can do this. Together.”

“I-I can’t, we have no idea how!”

“Just don’t leave me with those people, I beg you, Mickey.”

“…”

“Say anything, anything but leaving me.”

“Jesus, Ian, I’m not leaving you! I love you too fucking much to see you like this, I can’t keep sheltering you from the truth, you have to know you’re not okay. Y-you are…”

“What?”

“You are- FUCK!” 

“I’m sick.”

It was then both of them realized, Ian was not okay.