#i just remembered the scene where Ian holds freddy for the first time

[firecrxtch]

Ian is such a baby person he loves to hold tiny humans in his big old paws and sing little made up songs to them while they bounce on his knees

Mickey has a blast with the 5 - 8 year olds. He teaches them funny swear words when their parents aren’t listening and he loves running around playing liqour store robbery and throwing them over his shoulder while they’re laughing uncontrollably

[abundanceofnots]

a little (just under 2k) playground scene with Lip and Ian as dads, as per @pink--and--white's request. i apologize to all actual parents in advance.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Lip asks through a huff of incredulous laughter.

Ian shades his eyes from the sun, turning to his older brother with a look of mock concern. “Your memory that bad already, old man? We drove here.”

It earns him a stinging smack on his thigh.

“Asshole,” Lip retorts back. “You know what I mean.”

Ian’s eyes flit back to the scene before them. “Yeah, I do,” he confirms a beat later, his voice more earnest this time.

This, by far, isn’t a new feeling. Lip’s had the exact same thought pass through his mind countless times in recent years, always in a momentary flash of warmth that filled up his whole chest. It happens all the more often now over the most mundane shit, though.

The first time was, probably, when Freddie was born. Then Ian got married, and Al came along, and Liam got to a good school—and after that followed every other quiet (not literally) evening when the whole family gathered up in the kitchen.

In those instants, Lip would stall himself for just a second, getting lost in the overwhelming sounds and visuals, and think, what the fuck.

He’s getting soft. That’s it, most likely. He’s getting soft and sentimental, going on with his extremely unexceptional life, wondering how in the hell did a piece of shit like himself get so lucky, and slowly becomes someone he’d gladly punch in the face not too long ago.

It hits him hard again, this strange sense of pride and wonder, as he sits next to his baby brother on a bench overlooking a kids’ playground.

This one’s the real deal. Everything here is child-proof and clean, with no syringe or dogshit in sight. Frank or some random homeless guy aren’t lying in a drunken coma by the swing sets. There’s not even one bullet hole in the slide. And maybe it’s not so hard to admit that this is actually pretty nice. That this is them now.

Still, the whole thing is, without a doubt, totally ridiculous. Here they are, Lip and Ian—the college dropout and the ex-con, the true sons of the South Side—sneakily munching on their kids’ packed afternoon snacks.

“Dumb luck, I guess,” Ian answers Lip’s question after some musing and takes a sip from Toe’s pink-colored juice box.

Lip hmms before he bites into a baby carrot. “For us, or them?”

“For us. Definitely.”

They’re just two regular dads who carry around lunchboxes and always have a wet wipe or a pack of tissues at hand, ready to blow noses and wipe off residue chocolate from chins and hands. There aren’t enough words in the English language that would describe how incredibly ridiculous this is, because once upon a time, not too long ago, still, Ian wore a jumpsuit with Dav on the nametag and believed this was it for him, and Lip thought the only way to get through life was by drinking himself through the ordeal.

How the fuck did they get here?

“Freddie! Hey, Freddie!” Lip calls out to his oldest, who hangs upside down from the monkey bars, effectively ignoring him. “Fred!” he tries again with an annoyed sigh, and the boy finally remembers how his ears work. “Can you help your cousin on the slide?”

“Okay!”

With a swift motion, Freddie pulls himself up again to grab hold of a bar, unhooking his knees in the process, and jumps down into the sand with practiced ease. He then immediately gets into a run, coming behind the red-headed girl in black overalls who’s been trying to climb the gentle ramp on her own.

“What was that about?” Ian inquires amusedly.

“Early puberty, I think. He doesn’t want us to call him Freddie anymore. It’s Fred. No Fredster, no Fredtastic, definitely no Fredosaurus. Just Fred. Apparently, I went to bed, and my son turned into a middle-aged man overnight.”

“Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. The next thing I know, he’s gonna get a neck tattoo and his first STI. Al, buddy!” His younger son Alvin, at least, seems to have no trouble with hearing. “You need help? Want me to push you?”

“No, I’m good!” the blond kid shouts back from the swing, and to prove his point, he pushes himself harder off the ground to gain momentum.

Lip scratches his forehead. “They don’t need me anymore,” he comments darkly. “I am officially a bother.”

“You’ve always been a bother,” Ian notes before he stuffs his mouth full of grapes. “Come on, Lip. Freddie’s eight. He’s not exactly packing his bags to leave home. He’s still very much a daddy’s boy.”

“I don’t know, man. When I remember what I was already doing when I was his age….”

“Yeah, but that’s different. They’re not like us. They don’t need to be, and that’s a good thing.”

Ian’s right, but the concept of normal as something desirable, something he doesn’t necessarily need to rebel against, is something Lip may never fully come to grasps with. And neither does Ian, even if he says otherwise.

“We might be getting a dog,” Lip says after a while, pausing before he sinks his teeth into a cheese stick.

“No way!” Ian smirks at him. “Look at you, perfect American family and shit.”

Lip snorts at that. He and Tami are pretty damn far from perfect. “You not thinking about getting a pet? A friendly rottweiler for Mickey, perhaps?”

“No. First, I gotta talk him into having another kid.”

That takes Lip by surprise. He knows Ian absolutely adores his little girl, his mini ginger twin that everyone got to call Toe, short for Tomato, but he also knows the whole story behind how she came to be.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like another?”

“Yeah,” Ian admits, and as his eyes drop to his lap where his fingers fiddle with a paper straw, Lip realizes he sounds ashamed about it.

“Not as easy as poking holes in condoms with you guys, huh?” he jokes to release the sudden tension.

“Hah. No.”

“You told Mickey yet?”

Meeting his brother’s eyes again, Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. “I hinted.”

From experience, Lip knows that hinting in Ian’s case almost exclusively means Mickey is fully aware of his intentions and just chooses to ignore them before Ian confronts him head-on.

“Hopefully, you’ll have another girl,” he tells Ian after a quiet moment filled with children’s high-pitched screams and the steady screeching of a swing set. “It’s a lot more physical with boys. These two are already fighting like we used to.”

“Doesn’t really matter when you’re raising a Milkovich,” Ian remarks before yelling: “Hey, Toe? You wanna have a sip of your juice for me?”

The girl waves at them eagerly as she slides down the bendy chute. Getting to a run right as her feet touch the ground, she comes to a jolty halt in front of them, taking a good, hard look at the juice box as if only now realizing what’s expected of her.

“No, thank you,” Toe then peeps and skips off again.

“Polite,” Lip appraises.

Ian gives a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ weird, huh?”

“With Mickey as her dad? A little.”

They watch the kids play for a few minutes. Ian offers to exchange a cheese stick for three grapes, and Lip negotiates it up to five before agreeing.

“You think he’d be against it? Having another kid?” he asks Ian mid-chew.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, after all the shit with Terry. Maybe with a second kid, he’d think there’d be twice the damage he could do. Dunno,” Ian surmises uncertainly. “I know how hard it was for him to even want a kid, and I get why he was scared. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shitting myself every day when I think of the ways I could fuck this up. But he’s a great dad. You saw him with Toe. She’s obsessed with him. The way she laughs at everything he says makes you think he invented comedy or something.”

Lip’s aware that their conversation turned sort of serious once again, but he can’t help not breaking into a smile. “Sounds like you’re kinda jealous of your husband there, Ian.”

“Oh, I hate his guts,” his brother confirms, only partially kidding. “I’m a fun dad, too, you know.” As if on cue, a figure coming their way catches his attention, and Ian nods to where his daughter’s playing, telling Lip: “Okay, watch this.”

Mickey gestures at Freddie with a finger to his lips, coming around the slide just in time to catch his daughter in his arms with a victorious roar.

“Daddy!” Toe announces the good news to everyone around with a loud squeal.

Ian gives his brother a pointed look.

“Fuck, man,” Lip huffs with mock seriousness. “You tellin’ me she loves her dad? What a nightmare.”

“Yo, lunch ladies.” Mickey suddenly approaches them with Toe at his hip. “How ’bout less chit-chatting and more kid-watching? Think I’d remember if I left my kid with a giant fuckin’ bruise on her forehead this morning.”

“Yeah. She’s had a bit of a scuffle with Alvin earlier,” Ian says, reaching out to soothingly rub Toe’s calf as if said scuffle and the tears it brought weren’t already long forgotten.

“The hell’s he doin’ fightin’ someone half his size?!”

“She started it!” Lip counters weakly.

“Okay.” Mickey’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he finds his figurative footing again. “I guess she had her reasons for that. And you should teach your kids to not fight dirty.”

“I go play now,” Toe informs him then, putting a stop to his rant and his bad mood in one go.

“Yeah! You do that!” Mickey replies as he puts her down, matching her level of enthusiasm. She heads for the extensive pirate-ship-like construction this time, watchful cousin Freddie already on her heels, and Mickey drops heavily next to his husband, letting out a prolonged groan into his hands.

“Tough day?” Ian asks needlessly.

“Igor’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Told you he was.”

“And I agree, so drop it, a’ight? Hey, by the way.”

“Hey,” Ian echoes before they exchange a quick kiss.

Mickey notices the juice in his hands then and perks up. “That raspberry?” he checks after he’s already snagged the box for himself, taking loud slurps from it to get every last drop. He finishes off with a belch. “Fuckin’ love raspberry.”

Lip finds that anything he’d say at that moment would only spoil the natural fucking beauty of it, so he just appreciates with a private snicker.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Toe yells from the top of one of the pirate ship’s smaller slides. “Come play!”

Mickey pats at Ian’s thigh. “That’s on you, man. I’m beat.”

Putting his fun-dad face on, Ian heaves himself up without a complaint. “Hey, jellybean! Do you think your dad can fit on the slide, too?”

Toe shakes her head vehemently, giggling as she watches Ian jog toward her. “No, daddy! No! No!”

“What, you don’t think I can?” Ian asks again, halfway through his climb up on the board. “Well, take off your socks now because they might get blown off! I’mma fit!”

“Daddy!” Toe howls with laughter as he bumps his head on one of the low railings.

Beside Lip, Mickey imitates the reaction, both his hand and the phone he’s holding with it to record a video visibly shaking. When he notices Lip staring, his grin falters a little.

“These two jokers,” Mickey complains after he ends the recording. “She always laughs at everything he does like he invented comedy or some shit.”

Lip answers with a knowing smile, his chest feeling full of warmth.

Seriously, how the fuck did they get here?

[littlespoonevan]

pick me up and take me home again

Ahh so I’ve been planning to write this for ages and I finally decided to start it - very ironically - about an hour before the 10x06 deleted scenes dropped lmao. So here’s some outsider pov on mickey and ian’s relationship as everyone reacts to mickey being released from prison and back in the gallagher house!

title comes from 400 lux by lorde

I hope you like it :)

*

Liam first remembers hearing Mickey’s name when Ian disappears right before Monica dies. He wasn’t supposed to hear, he doesn’t think, since Lip and Fiona had been whisper-yelling at each other. But Fiona had said “When does Ian ever think things through when Mickey’s involved?” and it’d made him curious.

“Who’s Mickey?”

He remembers how they’d both abruptly cut off, turning to stare at him like they were both at a loss for words until Fiona had finally said Mickey used to be Ian’s boyfriend when Liam was a toddler.

Liam had wracked his brain after that, trying to picture him but he could only remember vague snatches of a person. Ian had come home a couple of days later anyway, looking sad even though no one had told him about Monica yet. When they’d been in their room that night Liam had climbed up onto Ian’s bed and said he couldn’t remember who Mickey was and then immediately regretted it when Ian had looked like he was about to cry.

But he’d smiled a little after a moment and took out his phone, scrolling for a second before he’d handed it to Liam. The person in the picture with Ian had looked familiar in the same way you recognise an actor in a movie sometimes but have no idea why. He was pale with black hair and shorter than Ian and he was grinning in the picture with Ian’s arm around his neck, flipping the camera off.

“He looks familiar,” Liam had offered because Ian still looked sad and Ian’s smile had gotten a little brighter then.

He doesn’t hear Mickey’s name again until the day after Ian goes to prison when Lip gets off the phone with him and announces with a disbelieving laugh that Mickey is Ian’s cellmate.

“How the hell did that happen?” Fiona had asked, eyes wide with surprise, and Carl had been the one to answer.

“Mickey’s gone to jail for Ian before,” he’d said like it was obvious. “He loves him.”

Liam has never actually seen Mickey in person – at least, not that he can remember – so he doesn’t exactly expect it when he goes into the kitchen one evening and finds his brother at the stove with his arms wrapped around someone decidedly shorter than him with black hair. It has to be Mickey.

Liam watches from the living room entryway for a minute. Ian’s grinning in a way he hasn’t since he’s come home, hands on Mickey’s hips, and Mickey’s leaning against the counter, rubbing his hands over Ian’s arms and looking up at him with a smirk.

“Still can’t fucking believe you’re standin’ in front of me,” Ian says quietly but still loud enough for Liam to hear. “Missed you,” he adds, kissing Mickey’s lips and then the side of his face.

Liam raises his eyebrows – he’s never seen Ian like this. He’d met Trevor and he’d been nice enough but Ian had never been…in love around him.

Mickey laughs, draping his arms over Ian’s shoulders and loosely linking his fingers together at the back of Ian’s neck. He looks like he’s about to reply when his eyes catch on Liam standing in the doorway and he pauses. His eyes flick to Ian again and it’s enough to make Ian turn around.

Ian smiles when he notices Liam but Liam doesn’t miss the fact that his cheeks are red. “Hey buddy! We were just gonna make some food. Have you eaten yet?”

Liam shakes his head, ambling into the kitchen and hauling himself up into one of the seats at the breakfast bar.

“Mac and cheese good with you?” Ian asks him and Liam nods absently, watching Mickey. There’s the vaguest sense of recognition in the back of his mind, flashes of memories he can’t really grasp.

“You’re Mickey,” he says without preamble and Mickey huffs out a laugh, looking from Ian to him.

“Yeah,” he replies. “You’ve gotten big, kid.”

It’s weird that Mickey can remember him so clearly but he can’t do the same.

Ian’s grinning as he listens to their little exchange, dumping the box of macaroni into the pot. “Liam doesn’t really remember much from before,” he explains and Mickey raises an eyebrow at Liam as if looking for confirmation.

“Probably for the best,” he snorts.

“Ian showed me a picture,” Liam supplies.

“Oh yeah?” Mickey asks, cutting an extremely amused look at Ian. “When was this?”

“When he went to visit you that time,” Liam says, blinking in confusion when both Ian and Mickey freeze. He doesn’t really understand why – especially why Ian looks like a deer caught in the headlights. When the silence gets awkward, Mickey clears his throat.

“He did, huh?” he says softly and Liam hopes Ian doesn’t think he’s being subtle when his hand wraps around Mickey to squeeze his hip as he pretends to still pay attention to the boiling pasta.

Liam nods uncertainly. “Yeah. He was all sad ‘cause he missed you.”

It’s the right thing to say because Mickey gets a quiet smile on his face and his hand settles over Ian’s on his hip.

“He’s missed you since he came home too,” Liam adds as a further attempt at damage control, making Ian groan and give him a look.

“Oh my god, Liam,” he says long-sufferingly but Mickey laughs.

“Y’know what, kid, you were always my favourite Gallagher,” Mickey tells him with a smirk, shoving Ian when he tries to elbow him in the ribs.

And Liam finds himself smiling, if not for the fact that his brother is so happy then for the sense of familiarity he feels right now. A lot of people come through this house but not many slot into their lives so comfortably. He can feel the fact that Mickey has a place here though, even if he can’t remember it.

He thinks he might like having him around.

*

Tami is just getting used to the madness that is the Gallagher house when Ian’s convict boyfriend suddenly shows up out of the blue one day, walking around like he’s always been there. And she doesn’t actually think she’s being unreasonable when she says she doesn’t want a criminal around her baby.

“You know Ian was in prison too, right?” Lip points out later that night when she voices her concerns.

“Jesus Christ, he set a van on fire he didn’t murder anyone,” she says dismissively, keeping her voice pitched low so she doesn’t disturb Freddie in her arms.

“Mickey didn’t either,” Lip says, expression thoughtful. “At least, I don’t think so.”

Tami widens her eyes at him in an attempt to convey the full effect of her incredulity without yelling at him. “Are you serious right now?” she hisses.

Lip holds his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the wall their bed is pushed against. “Hey, if anyone in this family’s hated Mickey it’s me but he’s not so bad now. Plus, he and Ian actually know how to take care of a baby so they’ll come in handy as babysitters. Way more reliable than Carl.”

She doesn’t even want to know why they know how to take care of a baby, ignoring Lip’s attempts to coax her onto the bed with gentle hands on her hips. She sits down on her side of the bed of her own accord, careful not to jostle Fred, and shoots Lip a glare she thinks makes very clear just what she’ll do to his balls if anything happens to her baby.

If the way Lip’s eyes widen marginally is anything to go by, she’s made her point.

*

It’s a couple of hours later when she’s up with Fred for his late-night feed that she hears voices. Opening their bedroom door as quietly as possible, she slips out onto the landing and recognises Ian’s and – who she guesses is Mickey’s – voices. When she hears them coming up the stairs she panics, quickly stepping into the bathroom and pushing the door shut until it’s just shy of closing. There’s still a sliver of light where she can make out Ian and Mickey coming to a stop outside Carl’s bedroom that she guesses is theirs now too.

“Can’t wait to share your fuckin’ single bed that barely fits one grown adult again,” Mickey is saying, one arm slung around Ian’s neck as he looks up at him, a cocky tilt to his mouth.

Ian lets out a quiet laugh and Tami sees his hands sliding over Mickey’s sides. “I mean it’s an upgrade from our last setup.”

“Uh huh,” Mickey retorts, gaze flicking between Ian’s eyes and his mouth. “Say that again when I punch you for hogging all the fuckin’ blankets.”

Tami can’t see Ian’s face really but she can hear the smirk in his voice. “You say that like you don’t use me as your own personal blanket, Milkovich.”

“Yeah, well I don’t got a choice, do I?” Mickey says. “Like I said, you fucking steal the blankets.” He finishes his sentence with a swift jab at Ian’s ribs but Ian only laughs, backing him up against the wall next to the bedroom door and drawing him into a kiss.

And it’s…unexpected, really. Just how weirdly playful and affectionate they are. They sound like a real couple and she knows they are but they sound fucking married or on their way there, at least.

“Come on, I’m beat,” Ian is saying then, stepping away from Mickey until only their hands are connected. “Let’s go to bed.”

Mickey smiles at him and it’s such a contrast to the grimace she’d seen him wearing earlier she wonders how she’s even looking at the same person.

She doesn’t realise they’re coming towards the bathroom until it’s too late and she curses under her breath, making for the door and opening it just before they reach it.

Ian stops short and Mickey bumps into his back. “Tami,” Ian says, sounding confused but still polite.

“I was just giving Fred his feed,” she says, forcing her voice to sound casual. “Didn’t wanna wake Lip.”

Ian nods vaguely and they stand there in awkward silence for a beat too long before Ian seems to remember Mickey at his back. He turns to look between him and Tami. “Hey, have you two met or-?”

“We’ve met,” Mickey replies and she expects some hostility there but Mickey doesn’t seem to be able to help the curve of his mouth when he meets Ian’s gaze.

“Cool,” Ian says and his smile brightens again as he looks at Tami. “Mick’s my boyfriend,” he explains unnecessarily.

Tami flashes them a smile at that and finds she’s not faking it. “I better put this little guy down again,” she says, nodding to Fred in her arms. “Night, guys.”

She returns to the quiet of her and Lip’s bedroom and carefully deposits Fred in his crib, silently thanking him for not blowing her cover earlier.

She’s certainly feeling enlightened after that little encounter.

*

Carl’s always had faith in Ian and Mickey.

He might be dumb about a lot of things but he knew what he was talking about when it came to those two. He remembers asking Ian years ago if he loved Mickey and Ian had said he liked how he smelled. Carl didn’t really get it at the time but he remembers cuddling with Bonnie not long after that and sort of just breathing her in and feeling this weird calm settle over him.

That’s when he knew Ian knew what the fuck he was talking about when it came to love.

And that the only reason he knew any of that was because of what he had with Mickey.

So he’s always known they’d end up together – even when everyone else didn’t.

He’d say he’s annoyed about having to share a room with them but they’re being surprisingly tame right now – he figures he’d made the right decision giving the bedroom a wide berth all day until he absolutely had to go to bed.

Besides, it’s not like he’s not used to it from the old days.

They’re only talking now, whispering back and forth, and Carl knows he shouldn’t be listening but he can’t really fucking help it when they’re in his room.

“Man, are we ever gonna fuckin’ sleep in a bed that actually fits both of us?” Mickey asks quietly and Carl can hear the soft laugh Ian lets out.

“We had it pretty sweet at your place for those few months,” Ian replies.

Mickey makes some kind of unintelligible noise and then, “You think if we report Terry to the cops on some bogus charges we could move back?”

Ian laughs again, louder this time but still attempting to keep his voice down, Carl thinks. “I’m gonna get us our own place one day and buy the biggest fucking bed, I swear to god.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey asks, sounding amused, and then there’s the distinct noise of lips smacking together.

Weirdly, it makes Carl want to smile.

“Mhm,” Ian hums. “A king-size or a queen-size, whichever one’s bigger. I can’t remember.”

Mickey breathes out a noise that sounds like a laugh and Carl hears the covers shift. “You makin’ plans again?”

“You don’t want to come live with me in our own private space with a big bed?” Ian asks in that shit-eating voice Carl knows all too well from when Ian decides to be a pain in the ass. “Fine. I’ll go sleep in the big bed all by myself. Think I’ll get one of those memory foam mattresses.”

“Uh huh,” Mickey replies and Carl’s not sure but he sounds like he’s smiling. “How’re you plannin’ on paying for all of this, hotshot?”

“It’s a goal to work towards,” Ian says affably and Mickey hums before there’s more kissing noises.

And Carl is really fucking happy for them, if he’s being honest. He knows he doesn’t know all the ins and outs of their relationship but comparing this conversation to the tentative, quick conversations they used to have before with Mickey on the floor and Ian in his bed, it’s just really clear that they’ve finally got shit figured out.

He’s pretty sure no one else deserves it more.

*

Debbie’s always sort of been secretly rooting for Ian and Mickey.

Call it the hopeless romantic in her or that gene inside her that’s so desperate to cultivate anything approximating family but she’s always thought Ian found a home in Mickey. More importantly, she’s always thought Mickey found the same in him – which can’t really be said for any of the other Gallagher siblings’ relationships.

Still, she doesn’t really expect to see them like this.

She gets home from work the day after Mickey is released from prison and finds them on the couch. Ian’s wedged into the corner, back pressed into the spot where the armrest meets the back cushion, and Mickey’s leaning back against his chest, both of their legs propped up on the coffee table.

They offer her a, “Hey,” when she comes into the living room.

“Hey,” she replies amusedly. She’s pondered a lot of things about their relationship but she never thought Mickey would be the little spoon, regardless of their height difference.

But he looks ridiculously content in Ian’s arms, with Ian trailing his fingers up and down his arm while his other arm overlaps with Mickey’s across Mickey’s stomach.

“Whatcha watching?” she asks, perching on the edge of the armchair and trying not to stare too much at how comfortable they look.

“Some gameshow thing,” Ian replies, suggesting they probably hadn’t really been paying attention to it all that much.

She nods in acknowledgement, eyes on the screen for a minute until Mickey’s voice pulls her attention.

“What a fucking idiot,” he exclaims. “The answer is obviously C. Who let this fuckin’ clown on the show?”

She huffs a laugh and then has to bite back a squeal when she realises Ian’s stifling his own laugh by pressing his smile into Mickey’s hair.

And they’re just. So fucking cute.

And she doesn’t think they were ever really allowed to be that before. They’re probably long overdue a honeymoon phase that lasts at least a year. She decides to leave them be then, let them enjoy their own little bubble for a while.

But she thinks from now on, when she wants relationship advice, Ian and Mickey are gonna be her go-to.

*

The thing is, Lip knew about Ian and Mickey long before anyone else did.

Carl and Debbie – and even Fiona – only knew when it counted. When Mickey was there, sleeping on their floor and then Ian’s bed and convincing Ian to go to the hospital and then to take his meds. They only knew when Mickey was too worried about Ian to worry about what everyone else saw.

They never saw the bad shit. The way Ian withdrew into himself more and more when Mickey got engaged. The fucking bruises and Ian’s tears and Ian’s heartbreak and Lip knows, rationally, that most of that shit wasn’t Mickey’s fault. That he was as much a victim as Ian was. But when Lip’s little brother and best friend in the world is getting his heart ripped to shreds Lip doesn’t feel all that sympathetic.

Thing is though, he forgave Mickey for that a long time ago.

Like he said, when it counted, Mickey was there. And Lip would have to be fucking blind not to believe Mickey didn’t love Ian after all that, would have to be the stupidest person on the planet not to think every fibre of Mickey’s being was devoted to Ian.

So he knows they love each other. He knows that.

But he’s never really seen them actually be a couple before.

He’s in the kitchen, making up Fred’s bottle for him and Mickey and Ian are over by the washer and dryer, ostensibly washing the clothes Sandy dropped over from the Milkovich house. But really, Mickey’s sitting on the dryer with Ian standing between his legs and Lip is so fucking glad for once that he’s running on about three hours sleep because he doesn’t have the brain capacity to pay attention to how disgustingly soft they’re being.

They’re laughing about something, hands roaming all over each other’s torsos and Lip wonders idly if Mickey’s smile is really that bright or if he’s become so sleep-deprived that he’s started hallucinating.

“You still need to give me your list for Costco,” Ian is saying and what the actual fuck? Are they talking about groceries?

“Uh, well, soap and shampoo at least,” Mickey says sarcastically. “Even though you’ll probably conveniently forget it so I keep using yours.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Ian snorts and Lip’s too curious not to look over as he sees Mickey give Ian a sceptical look.

“You think I don’t know about your little scent fetish?” Mickey says and Lip wants to bleach his brain. He hastily returns his attention to the bottle.

Ian splutters for a second before he laughs. “It’s not a fucking fetish, oh my god.”

“Uh huh,” Mickey retorts. “You think I don’t notice you fuckin’ inhaling my neck when we’re spooning?”

Okay, Lip has officially stumbled into a parallel universe where Mickey Milkovich is in his kitchen talking about spooning with his brother.

“I think I can control myself enough to let you use your own shampoo,” Ian scoffs and then, as far as Lip can tell, fucking proves Mickey’s point by dipping in to kiss the crook of Mickey’s neck. Or smell it, probably. Jesus, Lip needs to go.

Mickey starts laughing but it very quickly turns into a sharp inhale and Lip doesn’t stick around for anything else, just grabs the bottle and hightails up the back staircase to get Freddie from upstairs, right as he hears the dryer knock against the wall.

And despite the probable desecration of their family kitchen happening right now, he thinks it’s about time those two caught a break.

*

[mcustorm]

Spoilers for Jamie Johnson Season 6

Let’s get the finale twist out of the way first. Truth is, I was not paying attention when Jake and Jamie were having that conversation about their shitty dads. I definitely remember that it happened, but I wasn’t really listening to the dialogue. When Ian popped up, the first thing I thought, which is what I always think when Ian pops up, was “Hey you, where is that other son of yours??” Because every time Ian pops up saying he’s gonna do right by Jamie this time, you just have to ask where the other kid is to see how much he means it (which is to say, not much).

Well we found the fuck out, didn’t we? Turns out that scene I missed probably went heavy on the foreshadowing. And if we needed any. more. proof. that Ian ain’t shit well there it is.

As for Series 6 overall, I was…..whelmed. Barely anything happened. In my opinion, there were only three characters of any real note this season: Mike, Liam, and Freddie.

With Mike, and I speak as someone who has been a caretaker for a family member with dementia: That disease is a bitch. One thing about older people, they do not like having to be taken care of. It’s a pride thing, and I completely understand Mike putting distance between himself and Jamie upon getting his diagnosis. But he comes around at the end. I don’t know what the future holds for Mike, but as he said we’ll just take it moment by moment.

Liam, Liam, Liam. Okay, so last series/season the million dollar question was: Is Liam redeemable? I’m pretty sure my answer to that was a big fat NO. So this year we are retreading old ground. Liam is even more of a dick than he ever has been, and last year he literally outed someone. He was blatantly sexist (feelings that did not get addressed at the end there), he was racist (because he all but condoned those fans’ actions, and even blamed Freddie, so to this black viewer he’s as good as racist) and he was *this close* to being homophobic too.

He was toxic, always trying to turn the team into an us vs. them situation (which the end of Ep. 13 shows he’s not done with that). Not to mention that he was a terrible leader, a worse teammate, manipulative, bullying, aggressive, need I go on? And he barely showed tact in displaying those attributes. He was a blatant dick to just about everyone all season, and I don’t know why everyone was mad at Alba when he quit. 

So then in Episode 12 Liam learns that discrimination is a thing when the Seaside Tigers inadvertently throw shade at Dillon. Call me kooky but I thought it was out of character for him to quit the team then, the character that I saw all season would have just laughed at their homophobic remarks and kept it pushing. He was on the winning team with a bunch of white men, and I don’t see him breaking to go back just because of DIllon, who let’s be clear, Liam is also a dick to.

For me to appreciate his character, there has to be growth OR there has to be change. I’d argue just like I did last year that Liam still hasn’t undergone any of that, so we’re just going through the motions, and I felt it watching all of these episodes back to back. Again, the ending suggests that he’ll be back on his bullshit next year, so hooray for that.

I’m sorry to say that I’m a little iffy on Freddie’s story this year. First things first, I didn’t think what he or Alba did was that bad. Okay, Freddie lied for clout. Everybody does that. Okay, Alba gave Liam a centimeter long cut. I’d say if that’s all he gets for his actions, he got off pretty good. Idk, call me a cynic.

BUT, it was a good thing to show how the love of clout and chasing it on the internet can completely mess up your mental state. That was a good arc for Freddie.

My frustration with the racism storyline is that, as we have seen no shortage of in the last year and a half, a lot of it just felt performative. They took a knee, okay good for them. They raised money for anti-racism, what that specifically means I do not know, and then they all moaned and groaned when racist Liam leaves their team. Oh, and then they welcomed him back with pretty much open arms.

Last year, when Eric was fed the fuck up with Liam, and Alba took Eric to task for it, I literally said “Maybe the cost of winning for Eric isn’t the same as Alba’s” and I feel the same way this time around. Lest we forget our black history, it was Jack, a black woman, who did the groundwork and started Phoenix. The organization should be committed to anti racism and sexism, and anyone who goes against that needs to bounce, permanently.

Liam not only gaslit Freddie, and was blatantly sexist, then he went and joined Freddie’s perceived aggressors, and then Freddie and the team welcomed him back because again, “the most important thing” is that they want to win. 

On top of alladat, one plot thread that got brought up at least twice was that Freddie and Alba have not been in contact with Eric, which I appreciate the show writing in because that is completely consistent with Alba and Freddie’s actions the last two years. Aesha suggested to Freddie multiple times that he should call Eric, and I thought that Freddie would at last talk to Eric because who else could sympathize with his current situation more than his alleged close friend?? Not only did that not happen, but then Eric just wasn’t mentioned again and I have no idea why they wrote those lines in.

So at the end of the day, the show gets the message across: “Racism is bad, support your teammates when the racists come after them.” IMO, it’s still a little hokey.

Best scene of the whole season was when Freddie dances after being chastised by Liam for his decision. That scene was really what it’s all about. Even when racism is trying to pull us down, and keep us down, we still have to uplift ourselves, and we have to have joy. Freddie’s dancing is contrasted with Liam pissed af as “heavy is the head that wears the crown” plays in the background. I thought this was the turning point that would lead to Liam’s growth/change, and ultimately I was wrong but in and of itself that was still a damned good scene (and the song has been promptly added to my playlist).

So other than that? Alba was just there, okay she’s insecure about leadership, again we’ve been there done that. Did she do anything the whole time that wasn’t just being pissed at Liam? No? You know what would’ve been real character development? Last series, she already waived Liam’s terrible actions to get him back on the pitch.

This series, after all of Liam’s fresh bullshit, it would be growth for Alba to say, “I’m sorry for harming you physically. That said, you are kind of a piece of shit. There are girls and minorities on this team who deserve more respect than you have to give. I don’t have to accept you just because I want to win. We will win another way. BOUNCE.” And the team may have even been pissed at her, but she would recognize that at least there would now be harmony, and harmony is necessary for success. And what is that called everybody? LEADERSHIP.

But of course that didn’t happen.

The new mascot girl, Kasia, and Tayo are all just there. They have no arcs, just vibes. Bex and Jake are only marginally more interesting. Jamie Johnson is only here because his name is in the title (though things obviously are looking more interesting for him next series). Jess Christie makes less of an impression than both Molly and Hansard. She’s having a baby and she’s going to work. That’s it. Congratulations. Which was weird and brushed over, btw. The words “maternal leave” or the equivalent never escaped anyone’s lips, or factored into anyone’s thought process.

Elliot is there briefly, and I’m glad that the show used him to relate to Freddie, but also he and Dillon have no scenes together. Dillon, Jack, and Wozza are there for 3 minutes and it’s like a ghost literally pushed them off once time was up. Blink and you’d miss them. 

The first half of the season seemed to be setting Boggy up for something (He mentions to Jamie in the first few minutes how he feels purposeless, he carried the team on his BACK Episode 2 or 3, Tayo and Kasia lean on him for support, Tayo even tells him how important he is) and then the back half kind of just lets him vibe and now he’s leaving too. So….justice? Maybe it is for the best for him to just get the hell out of there. Scratch that, it definitely is. Boggy needs an identity outside of Phoenix.

And that’s about all of my thoughts. Thankfully the show went at a good pace, and it wasn’t boring per se, but moving forward I just want more growth from these characters. Or, in the case of Kasia/Tayo/RecognizableButLinelessExtras, for them to be more rounded characters. As always, I appreciate the show tackling social issues, but if we’re gonna go there, COMMIT. I still think this is one of the better children’s show’s out there, especially the live-action ones. So if you managed to read all of this rambling, thank you and see you next year!

[charliemack]

American Gods, Season 8 | Come to Jesus

I binged the entire season over two days before watching the finale, and I’m pleased to say the show holds up well. It’s not only beautifully shot, it is _entertaining_. There were more than a few moments where I laughed aloud during the second viewing same as I did in the first.

That said, I’m still not convinced that the show has earned the way it’s used some of its more difficult imagery: specifically, Shadow’s lynching, the massacre of the immigrants crossing the Rio Grande, and the town full of white people toting guns and wearing crimson arm bands. Every single one of these images deserves a conversation. If you’re going to show a black man being lynched, you’d better have something to say about it. And what the show has said about it was one white character after another acknowledging that Shadow was lynched, only to then immediately ignore him, insult him, and push him to the side. And that’s more than the immigrant massacre or fascist Vulcan, VA got. Hey show: do better. Show us that these actions have consequences, for both the perpetrators and the victims. Remind us that the bad guys should lose, especially when the bad guys look more than a little bit like what a lot of us we see in the mirror.

With that, on to the finale.

Rating: 6 WTFOL

Any other actor, and that gold-cloth woodgrain suit would be wearing him. Slow clap, Mr Jones.

If a whole orgy of people is the kind of meal Bilquis is used to, no wonder Freddy-from-Mad-Men wasn’t enough to fill her up.

God, Yetide Badaki is a spectacularly beautiful woman.

I wasn’t around back then, but I’ve seen a few articles and the like that imply that the Middle East was pretty happenin’ in the 60’s and 70’s. I’d like to know whether or not that’s true.

*Snort. There’s a joke to be made about airplane food meets the mile-high club.

I am very, very uncomfortable about the idea of a dating app called “Sheba”. Congrats, show, you continue to make me squirm.

Don’t cut deals with treacherous motherfuckers. So say we all.

“Who the fuck did you think he was” -> Nancy’s got a point, eh. Come on, Shadow. Figure out what kind of show you’re in, the straight-man bit is expected but I’d rather see a genre-savvy player. This is the kind of show that rates one.

Now I know y’all aren’t putting Ricky Whittle in a lavender button-down! Wasteful. Wasteful!

That nebula-filled night sky will never, ever get old. Gorgeous.

What kind of bunnies chase cars? Terrifying.

Oh. Or maybe not.

Remember back when Wednesday said Shadow had to do all the driving? What happened there?

I live in Seattle, y’all, and the sight of open blue sky suspends my disbelief every single time.

The food imagery at the party is delightful. That cookie with the red spot in the palm! Almost worth going back to church just to try that out on an unsuspecting congregation.

Hey! It’s Jesus! And he’s in the same shirt as the last Jesus. Do they have to share?

Oh. Apparently not. There’s another one. Oh! And another one! Oh. LOL I get it now. (14 Jesuses! Is that enough for a baseball team?)

Hmm. Shadow matches Easter like they’re going to prom. I wonder if Nancy did that on purpose?

Do you think Ian McShane got tired of wearing that one colored contact? Or did they do that in post?

Now where the hell were you keeping that, Wednesday? Between your ass cheeks like Wonder Women?

Speaking of Wonder Woman. What’s up with this trend of goddesses becoming museum curators, you think?

Oh yay, the ice cream truck! I love it when two threads of a story come together.

So which Jesus is Jeremy Davies supposed to be? He doesn’t have the coloring to be the Obi-Wan Kenobi white jesus, although having Ewan McGregor show up in this scene would have been a delightful piece of meta.

I love that Easter’s got a potty mouth. Tiny blonde Southern women swearing is one of my favorite things.

Y’all. Kirsten Chenoweth is even tinier than Emily Browning! She’s wearing heels!

“You are not a god” and “What does Wednesday have to lose?” -> Hey, there’s my genre-savvy protagonist! Soooo … does that make Shadow the love interest? Because that’d be a head-trip.

These gods are hella dramatic. She ate the spring??

And that’s it I guess? All those promotional shots of Ricky Whittle and Pablo Shrieber on the carousel must be for season 2 …?

I have no idea where this show is going.