#micky babbles

[takeyourpillsbitchh]

Kindred Spirits🥂

ᴄʀᴀᴡʟɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴅᴇᴘᴛʜs ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏsᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪɴ ɴɪɴᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs. ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪs ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟs ᴅᴇᴀʀʟʏ. ʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴍʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ @galladrabbles ᴡᴇᴇᴋʟʏ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ᴏғ ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙʏ @ohkate 🩵

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 7 — ʀᴇᴀᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Mickey hadn’t seen him in two months, felt his touch, heard his voice, been fucked by him so good his soul left his body.

He was getting antsy. He hadn’t gone this long without him. Every night he worked the club he looked for him. Nothing. Not even a whisper of his name.

Until tonight.

He needed to get laid. But as he was leaving the club he saw him. Pissed, arms cross, so sexy. Leaning against his car, an unconscious body at his feet.

Guess he’s not hooking up with that guy.

“Get in the fucking car, Mickey” Ian purred.

[mickgaydolenz]

I just had an idea for the modern au.

What if the guys are strapped for cash and really need money.

Peter looks around and clearly sees a bunch of ignorant people willing to pay way too much for weed when they have no idea what they’re doing.

Peter sells oregano as weed and uses his “dummy” persona to make the people think they’re scamming him.

Con artist Peter

jathis. your galaxy brain 🧠. yes, absolutely yes. peter has to convince the guys to let him do it, mike is especially against it while davy is surprisingly onboard. micky is healthily in between (because money would be great! but also they could get in SO much trouble 😱). this inevitably leads to a series of comedic events where peter and davy try to play it cool while mike and micky unintentionally nearly blow their cover several times due to nerves

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Gallzatto x Reader where the Gallaghers (Including Ian’s rambunctious delinquent of a husband, Mickey 🤣) Finally get to meet their newborns?

As soon as you were off bedrest, carmen's work family had come over one by one to meet the girls, give you all gifts and offering their servives where needed.

You were a bit more wary when it came to the Gallaghers. Lip had told you all about them, and there were just so many, who would most likely all drop by as a group and you weren't doing well enough for that amount of people in your current state.

So when you were up and going again you told Lip to give them a call and invite them over, amd much to his excitement he immediately started calling.

Later that day over dinner you were informed about the Gallaghers visiting tomorrow.

Through a bunch of texts you were updsted on where the family was, when they'd be arriving and when they had arrived. Lip went to go get them and led them into the apartment with a quick announcement.

All of them excitedly huddled around to see the newborn girls. All except Micky, who kept a small distance to stare at Carmen who let out a soft laugh, smiling. "There's three of us, not just her and Lip."

"And no one felt like telling me that?" He shrugs with a short head shake and holdd out his hand. "Micky. Ian's husband."

The whole gang is still huddled around your daughters, cooing at them or making conversation with you and Lip. Lots of "I'm so glad everyone's healthy." and "Good to see you're on your feet again." were shared with you, as well as now finally officially congratulating you on having the babies. Both of the fathers were celebrated as well, carmen just as much as Lip.

Ian and Micky were the first one to fold and end up with a girl in each of their laps, being the softies they secretly are. Debbie and Fiona were next, babbling in a baby voice, making the newborns giggle. Cark and Liam just sit, watch and chat mostly.

"Oh hey, Lip?" Fiona calls him aside, "here." and hands him an envelope. Accepting it and taking a peek inside closes it up again, giving her a weird look. "What's this?" The envelope with cash stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie. "Really? You don't remember that bet we made on your first summer break?"

Lip spent his first evening home on the front steps with his sister. Beer in hand, more on backup and a joint or two, maybe three being passed between him and Fiona. Sharing details of their times apart. "So how about that girl you were tutoring? When we talked on the phone you sounded like a lovesick puppy." The fond smiles were clear as day on both their faces. "Yeah so she's tutoring me in a class I suck at now too." He takes a long drag, inhaling the smoke and keeping it in as he speaks. "We fuck after every study session. She's amazing."

Fiona had to use every last bit of strenght left in her body to not fall over backwards in laughter. "I'm betting one hundred dollars, right now, that this girl is gonna get knocked up and you'll be over the moon about it even if it fucked up anything else in your life.."

"Ah shit I totally forgot about that." He takes a quick glance at you, remembering how you used to be in college compared to your adult self now. "You're still that same lovesick puppy you were back then. Except now you really got the girl, and a guy. And the babies." With that last sentence that gestures at the twins, currently being placed in their cribs by said girl and guy.

Lip took that as the que to get the gang out of the door so you could feed them in peace while he and Carmy set up dinner.

Everyone said their goodbyes, making sure all of you got a hug on the way out, leaving you with a back pocket full of phone numbers with names and small notes reminding you to call if you ever needed help with the babies, house chores or getting rid of problematic people. (That last one was Micky's)

[ohtobeleah]

WSO Threesome with Bob and Fanboy cause WSOs do it better #strictlyscandolus

Because WOSs do it better indeed. They really do. Imagine it though. 

Warnings: This is Strictly Scandalous. Smut. Double Penetration.

It has to be a double penetration type situation because how could you not want to be stuffed to the very brim with both of them at the same time. I mean just think about it with me for a minute or two.

Bobs got you on his stomach, hes supporting you from behind while hes fucking slow and deep thrusts into your pukering ass. Laying on his back against your mattress, his feet pressed into the covers as he lifts his hips to shove himself a little deeper inside you. Disappearing into you like your ass was made for him and only him. 

“Ahhh that's it, pretty girl, I've got you–feels so good for me though, how about you touch yourself for me?” Bobs mumbling through his southern drawl as your head falls back against his shoulder, kissing your temple as you moan out a mantra of pleasure that is just music to Bob's ears. 

“Ahhh Fuck! Bob, baby, s’big.” You're curling your clit, collecting your own arasoul as you do before Mickey is groaning at the sight. Reminding you of what's to come. 

“I know, I know darlin but you’re taking me so good, isn't she Mick?” Mickeys been kneeling at the end of your bed, pumping himself to the sight of Bob Floyd fucking your ass as he holds your knees apart. 

“So good baby, but let's see how well you do taking us both together.” It's the slow crawl Mickey does up the bed that has you itching at the anticipation. “Tell me you want me.” 

“I want you Micky, so fucking bad.” You're babbling at this point, you'd say whatever either of them wanted you to say in order to feel them both. “Fuck me–” Its all Mickey Garcia needs before hes slapping the tip of his length against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Watching as you try to run from him, but Bobs holding you still on top of him. 

“Oh no, no don't you run from us, pretty girl, we’re just getting started with you.” Bob hissed as he felt Mickeys pressing in, stretching you out and stuffing you full, slowly, but surely burying himself to the very hilt of his cock. 

“AAHHH FUCK!” Crying out you gritted your teeth, revealing in the pleasure that washed over you like a fucking tsunami. “Yess–ahh fugh–s’good, so fucking good!” 

“You look so pretty between us, baby.” Mickey cooed as he reached for your cheeks, squeezing your lips together. “Are you our fuck hole baby?” You nodded frantically, like if you didn't answer immediately all of this would stop and you'd be left empty. “Are you our dirty little fuck toy?” Again, without hesitation you nodded frantically, moaning as both men drove themself in and out of your respective holes.

“Ohhhh, fuck! Please–please don't stop.” Mickey's grip on your cheeks with Bob's hands snacking around to choke you gently mixed so well, you couldn't breathe, couldn't see through the tears as your face turned hot to the touch from the lack of oxygen. “Please don’t fucking stop–!” 

“Fuck Bob shes just begging for more isnt she, so greedy.” MIckey thought he'd pick up the pace in response to your pleas, thrusting himself in and out of your perfect cunt as sat back on his knees, removing his hand from your cheeks to lock his fists around your ankles to keep them high in the sky. “Cant wait to see how you walk around base tomorrow, dirty fucking whore huh?” 

“Such a greedy thing, look at how well she's taking us Mick, so tight and stuffed.” Bob let his head fall back against the mattress as he bucked his hips, his hands cupping at your ass as he took your full weight. “So good baby, oh so fucking good for us.” 

It felt otherworldy, Bob and Fanboy fucking your holes like you were there toy, their plaything. You'd never felt so full, so stuffed. You were a sweaty mess between the two aviators that were fucking you so dirty and raw. 

“I wanna cum!” Crying you groaned as you felt the familiar sensation of your orgasm approaching. “I wanna cum so bad please please please–ahhh fugh!” 

“You hear that Bob, She wants to cum for us.” Mickey was unrelenting in his pace, never stopping for a second as he brought one hand down to press the pad of his thumb against your clit. 

“Let's give her what she wants, Fanyboy, let's make her scream.” Bob growled as he fucked up into your ass fast and hard. When Mickey was pulling back Bob was thrusting in, a perfect rythem had been set to send you over the edge. “Cum for us baby, scream for us, show us how well we fuck you sensless.” 

You were listening, but had lost the ability to formulate a proper sentence as your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your jaw slacked. The back of your head hit Bob's shoulder as you came hard around Mickey's cock, clenching him to new extremes as your walls fluttered and your ass tightened. 

“FUCK!!!! Uuuhhhhh ffuugghhh yesss.!!” Trembling in between Mickey Garcia and BOb Floyd, they weren't anywhere near finished with you. Changing positions, manhandling you as you came down from the most intense high ever.  It was Bobs turn to have his way with you, and Mickeys turn to fuck your pretty ass. 

“Make sure you tell those pilot friends of yours that Weapons Systems Officers do it better baby.” Bob grinned as he leaned in to kiss your lips, thrusting into you without warning as you moaned his name into his mouth. 

“So much better.” Mickey did the same, shuffling beneath you, reaching around to guide himself into your ass. “We do it so much better.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd & Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia

[bluemoonperegrine]

"Probe" 1988 TV series with Parker Stevenson and Ashley Crow

Since a silly tiktok featuring Bonnie Tylers' 80s hit "Holding Out for a Hero" sparked some discussion about 80s TV shows, I want to recommend this gem that was cancelled far too soon. (Basically if I liked a TV show, it was doomed.) Issac Asimov was the series' creator!

"Probe" is a quirky mystery/crime drama centered around the brilliant but misanthropic genius Austin James (Parker Stevenson) and his cheerful, tenacious administrative assistant Michelle "Micki" Castle (Ashley Crow, who's best known as the cheerleader's mom in "Heroes"). They're an odd couple and delightful together. There's no 80s misogyny here, which is refreshing. The two have chemistry, so they'd probably have gotten together eventually if the show had lasted longer.

I haven't watched it in several years, so idk if I'll be as fond of Austin now. I've gotten sick of "loveable" asshole characters somewhat. Micki doesn't take any of Austin's shit, though. You go, girl!

Now that I think about it, there's early X-Files vibes here. Austin is Scully and Micki Mulder if you squint.

Anyway, I'm sure that the two-parter that kicks things off is solid. As often happened back then, the show was pitched and introduced as a TV movie. If it did well, more hour-long episodes were ordered. "Probe" got seven, and it's a crime there weren't more.

Last bit of babbling to give you a taste of the Austin/Micki dynamic. It was on iMDB. I don't remember which ep it's from. Not the first two, though. Austin's being genuine here.

Austin: That's a new dress.

Micki: You like it?

Austin: Yeah. The material's fire resistant, and I like the way the color washes out the pigment in your eyes.

Micki: Thanks... I think.

[monkee-mobile]

Baby Davy wanting to write a song with Mike but he’s too little so the words don’t really make sense and he’s just babbling on about how much he loves Mike or ice cream or his toys. But Mike writes guitar to it anyway and lets him perform it for him

aww yes!!

davys a good little helper. silly random songs are literally so fun. one of mikes favorite things is just sitting up with davy being silly with a guitar. it usually results in davy rolling over giggling (and then maybe almost poking mike in the eye when he gets a little TOO silly) This kind of “songwriting session” usually happens in the evening when davy is totally NOT tired (but mike has to wear him out anyway or he will never go to bed)

Micky gets a video camera and monkee home videos include some silly sleepy davybaby songs with mike and peter groovin’ along in the background. (davy keeps pausing to pose for the camera or try to take it out of micky’s hands so micky has to tell him to keep singing or get him back on track by telling him to sing about something random)

[multifandomrandomgirl]

The Ropes That Bind Us - Peter Tork x Female!Reader PART ONE

Thought I'd drop a Peter fanfic as he is my favourite and it's my birthday, so I have to celebrate by Peter Torking!

Masterlist

Cold.

Dark.

Peter gasped for air as he struggled against the ropes that bound him to the chair. He had no idea how he’d got himself into this situation yet again. “I’m just going to buy more bread.” He had told Michael as he opened the front door three hours earlier. Knowing his bandmates, they wouldn’t notice his absence for another few hours.

“Shit.” Peter groaned, his chair nearly tipping over as he continued to fight the rope. Suddenly, out of the darkness, he heard a feminine voice.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, if he sees the ropes loosen, he’ll tighten them so much that it’ll really hurt.”

Peter had expected to be alone in the dark room, so he jumped slightly at the sound of another voice.

“Who are you? How’d you know that?” Peter babbled. He was curious, he wanted to know everything; where he was, why he wasn’t alone et cetera.

“I’m Y/N. I know this because I’ve been trapped here a while, I have no clue how long. Do you know the date? But each time I struggle, he, whoever he is, tightens the ropes. He punishes me.” Y/N’s voice breaks slightly.

“Crap, I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m Peter. It’s the sixteenth of July nineteen-sixty-seven if that’s of any use.” Peter relaxes into his ropes, it brings him some comfort to know that he isn’t alone, but it also makes him sad, Y/N’s been alone for fuck knows how long.

“Fuck, nineteen-sixty-seven? I was taken in nineteen-sixty-four. Shit, I hadn’t realised it had been that long, it does feel like an eternity but I thought that was all down to the being alone in a dark room.” Y/N’s voice cracked more than it had done before.

Three years she’d been stuck here and no one had found her. He wondered if anyone had looked for her at all. Peter shook his hair, it made him fear that perhaps Mike, Micky, and Davy may never find him.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I don’t know what to say, I’m angry that someone would do this to you, and that no one’s found you.”

“Hey, you found me! I know that isn’t a great thing as you’re now stuck in the same boat as me, but in a selfish way, I’m kinda glad that I have someone to talk to. It’s gotten boring talking to the walls, very one-sided.”

“It isn’t selfish that you’re happy you aren’t alone anymore. It’s not great that either of us are here, but you being here is helping me, I’m not as sacred now I know someone else is here.” He smiles in the direction of Y/N’s voice, before he remembered that she couldn’t see him, and he grimaced.

“So, Peter, tell me about yourself.” Y/N said softly, hoping to get to know her new friend.

“Well, let’s see. I was born February the thirteenth, nineteen-forty-two, making me an Aquarius. Um, I have hazel eyes, and dirty blonde hair, which my friends joke about because I’m the dummy, I always end up in stupid situations or say the wrong things. Anyway, I really love sushi and music! I’m in a band, I play piano, and bass, as well as a handful of other instruments.” The musician rambled. “What about you?”

Y/N gave him an equally as long rant,s he told him her birthday, star sign, her hair colour. She told him her favourite food and how she too was the dummy of her friend group, and always ended up in sticky situations. 

“Tell me about your band. I’m interested.” Y/N glanced towards the voice of her new companion.

“We’re called The Monkees, with two ‘e’s instead of a ‘y’. There’s me, Michael - our guitarist. Micky - our drummer and vocalist, and Davy - our resident fuckboy, I mean singer and maraca player.” Peter quickly corrects himself, making Y/N giggle.

Peter began to sing Saturday’s Child in an attempt to ease himself as well as introduce Y/N to his band’s music.

“You’ve got such a nice voice! I really like it.” Peter was thankful that it was dark as he felt his face heat up at the comment made by the girl.

“Thank you! Hey! Are you much of a singer?” He asked, secretly, he had hoped she’d say no out of fear of him pulling a Davy and falling in love.

“I used to be in a band in school, I was the guitarist and one of the lead vocalists.” Y/N began to sing ‘Words of Love’ by Buddy Holly.

Peter’s fear was correct, he felt a warmth in his heart as he slowly realised he was falling for someone that he had met only a matter of hours ago.

[beedlemania]

also i feel like when peter’s even slightly regressed he’s super sensitive which puts him in stark contrast to davy who’s biting mike’s hands.

he goes nonverbal and just wants to be held and have books read to him and have his hair played with while davy wants to climb trees and wrestle and is definitely using an outside voice. he doesn’t like loud noises in general but when he’s small he’s even more effected by them so mike has to keep reminding davy to use inside voices. davy will also tease him a lot (“peter’s being a big baby!!”) which ends in hurt feelings and mike scolding him because we need to be nice to our friends, especially peter because he’s more sensitive.

davy makes up for it with cuddles. he’s also super protective. micky loudly comes in to show mike his william shatner impression and davy immediately shushes him because peter doesn’t! like!!! loud!!! noises!!!

When Peter gets small he gets very quiet and pretty shy and he just likes to relax and cuddle!

Davy loves to annoy him because he’s an easy target and he’s the only person Davy can annoy without getting given out to. Mike tries to keep them separated when Davy’s in one of his moods (usually they’re very good together and cuddle and babble to each other). But Davy is the only person allowed to annoy Peter! Davy gives out to Micky for being too loud (he’ll yell at Micky for yelling and solve zero problems). But he also gets protective over Peter but is too small himself to understand what he’s protecting Peter from. Mike will ask Peter to go get into his pjs or something and Davy will be like “you can’t tell him what to do! Stop being mean!!!😠”

[anchoringdreams]

I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and I didn’t wanna say anything because I’ve been vocal about being ace but I think I’m actually bi!!!! I didn’t wanna seem like I was bullshitting Or something I’ve just had really bad self rejection and just surpressing the feelings for soooo long but I GUESS IM COMING OUT??? AGAIN???????

[idkimrllynerdy]

micky dolenz suing the fbi was not on my 2022 bingo card

[cinnamon-brick]

So I’m watching the UK version of Shameless. I never ever want to hear someone say the UK version of Shameless is better than US. After having to learn that Micky Maguire got oral from his dog, I want to hear none of that anymore

[braddersbangerz]

First and fifth if you please.

here's some angst <3 (i didn't get around to the others tonight, sorry!)

Being in fights isn't a new thing for Daniel Lewis. He's been in plenty of scraps throughout his life, from the bully at school who took the micky at his hand me down shoes to his first boss who wouldn't lay off him for his accent. But, it all ended the same way, those who wronged him left with a bruised eye or a fat lip, and Dan left feeling that the wrong was righted.

His dad always told him never to feel ashamed about where he came from, and his mam always made sure to tell him to give people a good wack if they hassled too much.

Maybe that's why he's in this situation right now; he never quite learnt when to stop.

"My client isn't done with you yet."

"Oh, brill," Dan snarks, voice changed due to the fact that the brute above him decided punching him there would be a good start. Kinda went to shit after that big style.

A rough hand yanks his head up by his hair. "Where is your bitch of a friend?"

"I don't recognise anyone by that description."

The punch was expected, but it still knocked the wind out of him.

"Don't play smart with me; it doesn't suit you," The brute sneers. "Tell me where she is, and I will stop this."

Dan huffs. "I ain't gonna tell you shit all," He says, slow. "Do what you want." He squeezes his eyes shut, expecting the punch that never comes.

"Drop him," A gruff voice says. "Cos if you lay one more finger on him, I'm not gonna be responsible for my actions."

The hand wrapped in Dan's hair drops from his head. "Alright, mate-" The brute babbles. "-this ain't got nowt to do with you."

Dan cracks an eye open to take a look at his saviour, and his heart swells with hope. It's not the Doctor, thankfully, he really wouldn't want her here with this prick. Although, of course, he's not really keen on Graham being here at all, but at least it's someone he knows.

They lock gazes with for a split second, just enough, and then Graham turns his attention back to the brute again. "What were you doing with him?"

The brute shuffles on his feet, and for the first time, Dan realises that he's not as big as he thought, or maybe, Graham is holding such a threatening position that it's making the brute seem smaller in comparison.

"Answer my fucking question," Graham snaps, and Dan jumps, shocked at the tone in his voice. "Or I'll start shooting you, starting with your foot."

"He has information we need, information that has nothing to do with you, whoever you are."

Dan watches the twitching on Graham's jawline. How hard is he clenching his mouth shut? His eyes drift to his bright white knuckles on the gun- Where the bloody hell did he get a gun from?

"And you thought you would batter it out of him?" Graham shouts, stepping forward with intent.

The brute brings his hands up. "Look," He tries. "We're obviously of the same kind you and-"

Dan flinches, eyes widened.

"My next warning shot is aimed at your head."

Dan stares at Graham, shocked and scared. This can't be the man he became friends with, who he stayed up late watching the footie with, and who he eventually fell for.

"Graham-"

His voice cuts the pressure in the air somewhat.

"-lower the gun, alright, mate?"

"Shut up, Dan-" Graham's hand shakes. His breath hitches. "-I-" the gun remains locked on the brutes head.

"Please lower the gun," Dan tries again. He pulls himself up with an audible grunt, something he didn't want Graham to hear.

"He did this to you, Dan," Graham flicks his eyes over to his lover, taking in the damage all over his body. "I can't let it happen again."

"Let what happen again?"

Graham's free hand tightens into a fist. "How many other people have you kidnapped and brought here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"How many?!"

"I-" The brute looks between Graham and Dan. "-I don't know."

"You don't know," Graham laughs, mirthless. "You don't fucking know."

"Graham," Dan grabs at his free hand. "We need to go, alright? Leave him here; he's not worth our attention."

"You don't get it, Dan," Graham spits. "The last guy I met like this, I shot him and locked him away forever so he could never hurt anyone again," His eyes drift to Dan's. "I did that 'cos he killed my Grace, I couldn't have another person live through what I lived through-"

Dan blinks, surprised.

"-But then I find out you've been kidnapped, and when I find you, this man is beating the life outta you, he's done it before, stashed the bodies in a mass grave out the back," His hand shakes again. "I saw it, Dan, I smelt it-"

Dan looks towards the brute. "Is this true?"

The brute sets his face in stone. "I get answers for people."

"You were gonna kill me and throw me out back?"

The brute keeps his mouth shut.

"See, Dan," Graham whispers. "If I don't, he will do it again, and then it'll be on my hands-"

"Graham," Dan speaks softly. "You're talking about killing him; this isn't something small, this is murder-"

"Justice," Graham shakes his head. "We're not safe, Dan," He looks once more to his partner. "This ain't some alien planet where we can leave after, this is Earth, he'll come for us, for the people we love, we can't just leave a loose end."

"We'll get the police-"

"No," Graham shakes his head again. "They won't stop him, they won't stop the people who know him, he knows our faces, he can trace us, I need-"

"You're going to shoot him regardless, aren't you?"

Graham doesn't reply.

The gun firing is all the answer Dan needs.

And for the first time, he looks at his partner with fear creeping into the corner of his vision.

[touchstarvedsam]

I love the chemistry this cast has. Especially between Cordell and Micki. I'm happy they don't seem to want to turn them into a couple, I really don't want them to be romantically involved, but they have super chemistry together, their scenes were so great. I was a bit surprised that the pilot was so focused on Cordell, I thought it'd be more of an ensemble show, but I've been Sam/Jared-starved for so long, it was a pleasant surprise. And Trey, good lord, he's so gorgeous! I'm babbling, but I'm so happy with the show so far.

Yes! I am seriously looking forward to Cordell’s character development. Being partnered with Micki is clearly different for him, non-traditional, and he’s trying to get his footing back after months away and after such a painful loss. Now his old partner is his boss, and his new partner is a woman who isn’t afraid to put him in his place. I love it so much. I’m looking forward to them teaching each other things.

I completely agree with you. I don’t want them to be romantically involved either. I believe that Lindsey already said that they won’t be romantically involved after some fans were mentioning it to her. So I’m super pumped about that. Also because her and Trey look so good together ghfdjks the way she jumped into his arms and he caught her? Hot damn. He is a beautiful man.

I also love how Liam casually slipped in the mention of him and Bret doing the “my two dads thing so soon” because they took care of Stella and Arlo ghjdkhgf I loved that and can’t wait to meet Bret, who is also insanely gorgeous. Seriously, the amount of beautiful people they cast for this show is insane.

But yes, getting to see so much of Jared in the episode was a shock, but a pleasant one. No more being sidelined, no more getting knocked unconscious for undetermined amounts of time. I’m just so happy with how the Pilot turned out, I seriously just can’t wait for the rest of the season.

Also the amount of support the cast already seems to have for each other. Keegan advertising Jared’s face everywhere, talking so highly of him, and just. God. It’s so vindicating to see everyone talk about how wonderful Jared and Gen have been to them on set, how welcoming and kind. It makes me feel so good that everything bad the h*llers have been saying about Jared is all in their heads.

No hate, only positivity. New fandom, new me. <3

[clarksville-ticketmaster]

Hopefully the final repost asdfg

I couldn't stop thinking about the mermaid lady @brrackets-room  created for the baby peter au and well, I couldn't help but write a little thing asdf

Word count: 1,209

The sun was about to go down in a few hours. The air was fresh and the sand didn't burn their feet. A blanket had been stretched out for them to sit on, along with a basket of food that they managed to scrape up from their usually bare kitchen. Everything had been set for a good evening.

But Peter was gone.

The toddler had a habit of disappearing on them, he was strangely independent for something so small. Peter would end up wandering outside and into town or down to the beach, or the nice elderly woman's home a few houses down for a cookie. Peter had made it a habit to give them a few good scares.

But those times we're nothing like now.

Mike's heart twisted as he surveyed the empty beach. "He was here a minute ago!" Micky continued his panic rambling, hugging himself as he turned in circles so he could take in as much beach area as possible. Mike could hear Davy screaming himself hoarse as he yelled the name of their missing friend.

They grouped together after a while, Micky's face twisted in worry and Davy nervously bit his nails. Something terrible bubbled in Mike's stomach. Scared didn't even cover what they felt.

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. "Okay, uh, Davy where did you last see Peter again?". 

Davy turned to face Mike, his expression the definition of worried.

"He was picking at the washed-up seashells near the water" he repeated, pointing towards the spot infront.

The sight of a large wave slamming into shore made something click in Mike's head.

".... You... didn't ya say he was just sittin' there when he suddenly disappeared?" Mike asked weakly. Davy simply nodded as he couldn't seem to form any words. Neither could Micky apparently, as he could only make a strangled noise as realization collectively dawned over them. Mike felt his knees go weak as Micky pulled at his sleeve like he was trying to ground himself.

The ocean waves crashed as their world did the same

Peter may have only been two but he was a excellent swimmer. But, the ocean kept splashing in his face and he could taste the salt. There was nothing but blue and green around him, no one in sight. Peter was starting to get scared.

And then something pulled his leg.

Before he was dragged down he used a small hand to pinch his nose closed. Something Davy had proudly taught him earlier that week.

It was a lady. 

They stared at each other. Peter mirrored her as she tilted her head, the murky water of the oceans making it hard to see her completely. Peter reached out, having significantly calmed in her presence. This seemed to snap her out of her trance from finding a toddler so far out in the ocean. She grabbed onto him and they broke through the water. Peter spluttered as a hand gently rubbed his back. The lady held him close as he shivered from the cold.

She hummed to him like she was trying to calm him down. But why would Peter be freaking out? He was out of the water, he was safe!

"Oh, baby, how did you get this far out?" She questioned him. Peter told her of course, but to her, it sounded like babbling, cute babbling. But she did make out one single word.

'Wave'

"The ocean can be unforgiving," she tells him. Peter looked up into her bright green eyes, before giving a tiny nod as he rested his head in her shoulder.

"We're going to a cave nearby until the waters calm down, alright?" She gently told him, carefully lowering herself down so she was floating on her back. Peter took this time to briefly look around. That's when he spotted it. Her tail. Something brightly green and blue like the ocean. But prettier

Peter gasped in awe, twisting a bit to look at her. "Mermay?" He asked with wide eyes. She laughed at his expression. This kid was adorable.

"Mermaid" she confirmed with a smile.

The beach was silent.

They sat on the sand, blanket forgotten, the ocean was quite now.

The food lay forgotten, as it couldn't fill the emptiness inside them,

The wind blew through Mike's hair, hat on the ground from being thrown in frustration. No one had said a thing since their realization.

"Now what?" Davy dared to aske the others and himself. Micky didn't look up from where his head was buried into his hands, Mike continued to stare out into the ocean.

"Should we go and call someone?" Davy continues to push despite the lump in his throat.

"We can't leave him," Micky finally speaks up, very much sounding on the verge of tears.

Mike clenches his jaw as he hangs his head. He knows that as soon as they return to the pad they'll have to face reality. That they'll return with one less person in thejr home and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.

"Hello?" A voice calls out. 

Mike ignores it, he doesn't feel like explaining their current situation, he doesn't even think he can.

"Hello?" The voice calls out again. The lack of movement in the corner of his eye tells him the others don't want to answer either.

The next thing the voice says makes Mike snap his head towards the source.

"Does this boy belong to you?"

And Peter is there, soaking wet but alive. He's smiling at them from the arms of a woman in the ocean. 

"Peter?" Micky calls out in surprise and utter relief. Davy gasps loudly.

"I found your child!" She continues with a kind smile "he's darling!"

"Mike!" Peter calls out and Mike has never been happier to hear that voice "ahs daa ba Mermay!" Peter babbles excitedly.

"Oh, Peter, thank god…" 

In a blink of an eye Mike is up and Peter is safe in his arms. He doesn't stop the tears that escape his eyes as he buries his head into the drying blonde hair of the toddler.

Micky is there and then so is Davy. They're squished in a huddle as they both reach out for Peter as well. The water is freezing but they still stand there as relief washes over them like the water that's washing off the sand stuck to their legs.

It takes a moment for Mike to realize the others are crying too, Davy and Micky both have a hand on Peter's back and Micky is actually planting kisses on the top of Peter's head. Peter holds on tightly to Mike's shirt.

Mike collects himself enough to finally address the woman in the water. To not only express his gratitude for bringing back Peter alive but to also ask how.

Mike opens his mouth as he looks up. "Thank you-"

she was already gone.

But that could be a mystery for another day. 

Right now they needed to get back to the pad for some well deserved rest. They wrapped Peter up in a blanket and Mike carried him home. Micky and Davy close by.

It was safe to say they all slept protectively next to Peter that night.

[weeo]

It’s been a long time

I apparently can’t be on time so here is my response fic for episode 4. @peakyemergencyresponsefic​

Pairing : Tommy Shelby x Freddie Thorne (kind of)

Summary : During his meetings at the Garrison, Tommy sees an old friend again.

Gif Credits :  This gif doesn’t belong to me. Credits to the creator @floweryshell

Warnings/Tags :  Hallucinations, Season 5 Spoilers

Notes :   Here is a little ficlet for the Peaky Emergency Response Challenge for Episode 4. I didn't have lots of time last week so I focused my efforts on something tiny. I hope you'll enjoy it!

Thank you to @tinypinetrees, my saviour as always.

AO3 link

“Send the next in, Micky.” Tommy called, scribbling in his tiny notebook.

He wrote the last words quickly, sliding the thin pencil into the rubber band on the side, closing it delicately.

Taking his glasses off, he threw them on the table and stood, greeting the newcomer as the door creaked open.

Extending a flat palm to shake hands, Tommy caught the stranger’s eyes and froze.

Freddie’s familiar face slammed into him, landing heavily in his stomach and stealing his breath.

“It’s been a long time, Mr. Shelby.” Freddie noted, his grip firm as he shook Tommy’s hand, lingering just a little too long.

Tommy was about to hug him, to crush his head in the chest he had found so much comfort in so many times, when he noticed a strange feeling floating unnervingly around them. Something felt wrong. His other hand was already over Freddie’s shoulder, so he patted it, turning his overly familiar gesture into a more polite welcoming one.

It was Freddie, but his features were smooth. Dark circles didn’t eat half of his face and the creases on his forehead were faint. Washed of the traces war left behind.

He looked young.

The young man Tommy would have hugged without fear of being hit in the face. That one who hadn’t hated him with every fiber of his being.

He could sense it wasn’t real, but it differed from Grace’s appearances. He could feel the skin brushing his hand. Not just the warmth clawing in his body and luring him in another hazy place.

Focusing on the face in front of him, he could see his features slowly morphing into less edgy forms, less twisted by frustration and struggle. Into something less and less…. Freddie.

There were still his defiant stare, his pointy nose and dainty lips, decorated with a mischievous grin that reminded him so much of his best friend. Not that Tommy really knew about Freddie’s lips either way. It’s not like he looked at them for endless hours to know that. He was sure it was the same lips though.

The ones he wanted to kiss, and sometimes dared to let his eyes wander on for an instant.

In a cruel twist of irony, it turned out that the young lad was a communist, asking for an interruption of the wages cuts, by the gamblers who lost money in the Stock Market Crash.

Tommy couldn’t even remember what they talked about during the meeting. His brain was on autopilot, letting his ready-made answers do the talking for him.

He only saw one face the whole discussion. Stealing his focus without a word.

You won’t ask me to listen to the voices, Freddie. I know that... I know you’ll never want to see me again after everything that happened. But I always preferred when you insulted me, rather than when you were silent. You never ignored me before, at least...

“I hope you’ll speak about it at Parliament, Mr. Shelby.” The man tried again to gain Tommy’s attention, speaking a bit louder.

Tommy shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts of Freddie’s straight face.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do, Mister?” He paused embarrassingly.

“Mr. Ford, Mr. Shelby. My mom told me that I changed too much recently for you to recognise my face. She's probably wrong though, I saw it in your gaze when we shook hands.”

“Yes, we’ve known each other for a very long time.” He answered, confused about who they were really talking about.

Tommy forced a polite smile and stood up to salute him.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby" he said, shaking Tommy's hand and heading towards the door.

Grace, and now you. What would Ada say if I tell her you were here too, eh?

Tommy avoided his eyes again as he accompanied the young guy to the door.

“Who’s next, Micky?” He called, taking a cigarette out of its case.

The waiter put his head through the little window of the booth, polishing a glass with a cloth.

“Mrs. Connors. She keeps babbling about songbirds.”

“Let her in. I’ll deal with it.” He rolled a cigarette over his lips and lit it before the door creaked again.

[mergatroid-jones-blog]

Twin Mickey

(A short story)

* 1 *

I don't have a name. That's because there's nobody to give me one. There's nobody to call me by it either, due to the nature of my particular birth defect. I'm three eighths of one inch tall. Not only that, I don't have my own body. Not exactly. I live in my brother's head. We're twins I guess. Some kind of conjoined twins--only instead of being conjoined on the outside, I live inside his head. He doesn't know I exist. Nobody does.

For all I know I'm a very common medical phenomenon. Micky's never had a brain scan-- maybe I wouldn't even show up. That's my brother's name: Micky Van Buskirk. It's sort of my name too, since I don't have one. I stole a little piece of my brother's name. I steal a little piece of everything he has. I'm a parasite. That's what I've decided. Or maybe I'm cancer. I certainly don't do anything to help him. All I can do is sit around his head and complain. He can't hear me, no matter how loud I shout. You aren't designed to hear from the inside. I figured that out.

But that doesn't matter. I still scream about everything. What else do I have? It's like I'm chained to the floor in front of the worst TV show, and I can't reach the remote. Forever.  My brother really might be king of the idiots.  Like all the best idiots, he's just clever enough to convince himself that he's being awfully rational in any given situation. He's convinced himself that everything he's ever done was absolutely the only thing he could have done. He probably thinks he's had a really hard time of it. He hasn't.

I  know literally everything about him, but his motives are a mystery to me. Like when he stole Jacob Yockey's jacket in high school. It was sitting there, all lime green and fake-leather, and he just put it in his backpack like he'd been planning it all along. He didn't need the jacket, and he wasn't some kind of kleptomaniac. That was the only time he did something like that. He put it in the back of his closet and there it sat. He didn't wear it, and he didn't have anything against Jacob Yockey either. Jacob Yockey never hurt anybody. One day, Jacob mentioned that his jacket was lost, and my brother was there. Micky laughed, and he said “Soggy pickles.” What the hell is that??

That night,  he actually put the jacket on for the first and only time. He was still wet and naked from the shower.  He posed and made faces at himself for at least three minutes. My brother is barely five feet tall, quite fat, and covered in thick, curly, black hair. He's not physically attractive.   I heard Jacob Yockey lives in Toronto now, and he's gay and breeds expensive dogs. Good for Jacob Yockey I guess. He sure was funny looking in high school.

* 2 *

You would think that self-loathing and egotism would contradict one another, but they make surprisingly genial bedfellows. My brother will be convinced that he is worth less than the scum under a pretty girl's fingernail. Then in the same hour, he'll realize once again that the world is almost entirely  idiots, and that he miraculously isn't one. If they'd just ask the non-idiots, the world would get along better. Again, these sentiments seem like a contradiction, but my brother has never noticed the inconstancy. Most people don't seem to notice inconsistencies like that.

Perhaps they would notice if they spent a day as a pimple. That's how I think of myself: a brain-pimple. Like when you get a pimple on the inside of your nose, but deeper. My brother is always picking his nose, and he's not subtle about it. He used to eat his boogers, and he didn't stop until he was sixteen. He really is a disgusting shit. One time when we were about seven, he took off his pants, crawled under the  bed, and peed into the carpet. For no reason. What reason could he have possibly had? He just did it to test his body? To test the carpet? That carpet is still there by the way, and I doubt anybody has ever shampooed it. I  think I really hate him.

If I had to live in somebody's head, it didn't have to be such a boring nincompoop. Mickey Van Buskirk has never done anything I would care to watch. Weird stuff sure. Gross stuff, definitely. But nothing good. Once he spent a whole day sorta following around this old man who carried a trombone. I guess he thought the guy was a creep, but who's the creep when you're stalking some old guy all day? Weird stuff, he does. Gross stuff he does. I've seen him lick a banister after a pretty girl touched it at least nine different times. Nasty.

* 3 *

What a miserable little shit. Here's what happens every time: he gets a shitty job and he hates it. And he hates it more and more for a whole year. Then he throws a fit, quits, and gets a new shitty job. He's like clockwork. After high school, he told our mom he was going to be a pharmacist. Whatever happened to that? He was never going to be a pharmacist and he probably knew it. I'm sure Mom wasn't fooled. She's not stupid like Mickey.  

My brother has only ever had one girlfriend that lasted, and that's because she's an even bigger idiot than he is. Angela is her name. They've broken up four times. They broke up again last week.  He made out with her sister Kara. She did it to piss Angela off. He just did it because it was on offer. Fucking idiot. The thing was Angela wasn't actually all that mad about it. Kara was getting revenge for previous transgressions. But it brought up all this drama, and everybody hates each other now.

Good riddance.  I hope I never see those two again. Talk about entitled.  Not one of the three of them can form a cogent thought. Angela literally sets fires and puts them out for fun. But Mickey can't  find words to voice this legitimate concern other than “You're a psycho-bitch.” That doesn't tend to help. But who cares? She walked out and maybe it'll stick. Mickey got good and drunk after that. He got high on pills too. Good. I can share in that.  Then he looked at a bunch of “furry” porn. Disgusting. I really hate him.

* 4 *

He had hated his job at the print shop for almost a year, so I wasn't surprised when he threw a tantrum at work. My brother has always been able to throw a tantrum for what seems like no reason. I think he must plan it in advance. The printer was being crap, and Annie was blaming him for it as usual. So he started throwing boxes everywhere and screaming “It's fucking bullshit, and I can't fucking bullshit!” He said the word “bullshit” twenty-seven times in total. I counted. He ripped off his Clayborn Printing shirt, threw it at Annie, and walked out. She didn't say a word. I don't know if she was angry or amused. At least she had to deal with the printer herself. Horrible woman.

Then what did he do? He called Angela crying and babbling incomprehensibly. I was surprised she hung up on him. Good for her. Then his classic pity party. I've seen it a thousand times. He buys a fifth of Wild Turkey and gets some pills. Angela is kind of a pill head and he's kinda one too when he's with her. Then he rolls down the windows (even if it's winter) and blares Linkin Park at full volume all the way to Foy Point in the national forest. It's isolated. It's also incidentally where he lost his virginity to Sarah Spiller who later turned out to be somehow related to us. Good going.

He did what he normally does. He drank as much of the fifth as he physically could. He smoked every cigarette he had. He used his lighter to blow a fireball with the bourbon, then he threw the bottle (still one third full) into a tree. All that was normal. Then he went for the pills, and I noticed he had brought every bottle that Angela had stored at his house. Most of them were almost empty, but it was quite an array. He dumped them all out into a Halloween candy-pile on the picnic table. He was going to kill himself! I screamed at him “YES! Do it! Finally, I'm done with you! I'm fucking done, you piece of living shit-fucking shit!” I really was excited.

* 5 *

He looked at all the pills, and he shuffled them around. There would have been enough to kill ten Mickey Van Buskirks and a thousand brain-pimple brothers. Then he arranged them by color. Then he shuffled them again. Then he took a little yellow one. Then he took a handful. No good. He couldn't swallow them all. He didn't have any water, and the bourbon was all over a tree. He puked. Now there were two Halloween candy-piles.

Foy point overlooks a creek, and it's not all that far down if you go through the brambly parts. Mickey did. He really wanted to die. I was proud of him. He took a Styrofoam cup from  Frosty Time, and filled it in the creek. The brambles cut him up, but he was too drunk to care. He took two handfuls of random pills, and swallowed them with creek water. Then he screamed “I did it!”

He had. I've never wanted anything more than to die. I would have been jumping up and down if I had legs. But then, Mickey Van Buskirk had an attack of cowardice. He was too much of a coward  even to take the coward's way out. He clutched at his uvula for dear life, and life it gave him. He made himself puke. Then again. Then again. More candy-piles. It was horrible to watch. He was covered in it. If he had waited just five minutes, I bet he would have been too far gone. What a failure.

* 6 *

He woke up the next day, sunburned and thirsty. He was covered in little cuts, and vomit, and Wild Turkey. I woke up too. Alive. I really hate him. Before he drove home (well below the speed limit) he produced his pocket knife. It always makes a satisfying click when he takes out the blade. A lot of things were carved into the picnic table. A crude owl. A penis. A fancy heart. One message said “Be happy.” Another said “Smoke a fat blunt biotch 420!”  Another said ambiguously  “Is waterlogged and so am I.”

It was important for Mickey to carve something into that table. It must have been important for him to stare at it so long.  Something big had happened there, and he needed to commemorate it. He needed to write a message of his own: to speak and be heard. After at least three minutes of staring, he carved his statement on the table very large above the owl.  Here's what it says:

“Fuck”