#Barbs is a bit ruthless at times... I love that about him lol

[earl-grey-love]

Ugh, what a great morning 😭 Seeing both Levi and Barbs in the event, which was super cute and fun, while snuggling in bed with my cat and sipping iced coffee. Paradise.

[annkous]

It's time for LESSON 13!! AAAAAAAAAA

A bit of calm before another storm that's coming our way, but that's just another day in the life of MC I suppose lmao. I appreciate the break though, the last lessons were ruthless.

Lesson 12 feels!

The first thing they do is grab the theory going around of Michael being Nightbringer and unceremoniously slam dunk it into the trash can right in front of us.

Well. Screw you too.

Well, at least now we know Michael also knows about the time travel thing. Which is good to have confirmed. I don't want to say where the Celestial Realm can stick their tolerance, though. I still don't like them lol

Anyways the brothers are relieved and happy (even Belphie!! We still need to talk tho) we're awake and we get to say good morning to all of them. I found it incredibly sweet. They have many questions, but they decide to let us rest. Solomon asks us where we decide to stay: Cocytus Hall or in the guest room in the House of Lamentation.

I chose to stay in our old room. I assume if you go to Cocytus Hall you have a moment with Solomon, but I haven't chosen that one yet. If you stay in the House of Lamentation though, they'll squeeze your heart being adorable because every fucker in this house has camped out and is sleeping outside our room.

This is the cutest shit I've ever seen. I love all of them oh my god.

But we can't run away from the questions forever and the next day we meet up with Diavolo because it's our Questioning Day. We get a sweet moment first though where we learn that the previous night we somehow carried all the brothers into our room lmfao.

My important take from this is that Satan let us drag him into our room without kicking up a fuss and even pretended he was still asleep. I love him.

During the questions I was sweating bullets because Solomon did warn us that we shouldn't say we're from the future. They do give us an option to tell it though, but I decided to dodge that bullet in particular and instead be honest about the Ring of Light instead of keeping quiet. We're still pretty vague answering, but it's better than nothing. I have a feeling they'd think we're making fun of them if we say we're from the future anyways.

Diavolo's main concern is if we're even safe for the Devildom (holy shit), but the brothers try to persuade him by comparing our situation to theirs when Diavolo let them into the Devildom. However, as we know, the price to stay in the Devildom wasn't a cheap one and he calls Lucifer out for bringing it up.

None of the brothers know more beyond of Lucifer pledging loyalty to Diavolo so they drop the issue here. I have hope that maybe in this timeline they will find out about everything Lucifer gave up in order to keep Lilith and his brothers safe. Shit will go down, obviously, but it's a hurdle they have to jump through o(-<

Barbatos asks for a break since things are getting heated up. Diavolo takes his leave to calm down, and we're given the option to follow him immediately or take a little walk. I chose to take a walk and got points with Barb, so I thought we were going to leave Diavolo breathe in peace, but we end up catching up with Diavolo anyways lol

Diavolo feels bad we're worried about him and yet he's trying to give us the boot from the Devildom. This man is so conflicted and needs a break (so do we but, rip), and then someone I wasn't expecting decides to pop in after Barbatos:

MEPHISTO!!

Of course lmao PLEASE GIVE THEM CASUAL CLOTHES OR A DIFFERENT FORM SOLMARE P L E A S E

We learn a little more about the House of Lords in the Devildom, who are very unhappy about Beelzebub's rampage on the Demon Lord's Castle (oh man and we still haven't solved the why of Beel going berserk either.....) and are outright asking for his banishment, according to Mephisto. Then he decides to be an ass and talk bad about the brothers, but Diavolo politely cuts him off and walks away before Mephisto can finish lol.

We get a short one-on-one with Mephisto, who thinks we're a lesser demon and I've never once in my life since I met him have wanted to grab his cane and hit him over the head with it, but there's a first time for everything and my first time was in this Lesson.

So that's how it is huh

So once again our "verdict" gets postponed (I have a feeling it's gonna be a running thing for a bit) because of the House of Lords' demands, which apparently are worse than Mephisto let on. They basically say Beelzebub's rampage equals a declaration of war and are holding Diavolo accountable. Diavolo must go through a set of trials that test his ability to rule (and if he refuses apparently he gives up the claim to the throne, so it's a Big Thing), and if we know how Obey Me! works, we know we're gonna be the ones helping him out and that's probably how we'll win points in our favour to stay here. And that's if it doesn't end up being the whole reason for Diavolo to say "they're styaing here, and that's the end of it" since we basically help him keep his claim as future Demon King with that and that's a show of loyalty if I've ever seen any lol

However he needs his father to tell him about the trials, as it's some sort of tradition they pass down from ruler to the next one to be, but we know the King is indisposed. So does the House of Lords, so this demand is one hell of a low blow to Diavolo, but he plans on going all out on it anyways.

And as soon as he says this, the trial starts. Literally. Diavolo gets teleported away in a flash of light and there's that.

I called it lol.

It looks like it's Diavolo bonding time. He's nervous but keeping a front, and we can call him out on it, and also either take his hand, give him a pat or my favourite option in this game: give him a hug.

He calls us out again, just like both him and Barbatos did in the classroom, about how we're trying to help and being nice to them despite Diavolo trying to get us out of the Devildom. You can tell he's struggling about the whole thing. I think he wants to trust us, but we're too powerful and if we decided to turn against the Devildom, there would be big trouble. He says the possibility of us turning himself, and seeing how Lesson 11 went.......... well, it's obvious we don't want to turn against anyone. But they need a bit more of strong convincing.

The lesson ends with poor Diavolo asking why are we showing any kindness towards him or caring at all. I found it a bit sad for him, honestly. Looks like Lesson 14 will be going through the Kingsblood Crucible with Diavolo, and maybe persuade him we'd never turn against them.

The extra lesson is hilarious. I thought it was gonna be about the brothers and Barbatos after Diavolo and MC got magically whisked away for the trial, but it's instead Mephisto looking for Diavolo to give him the House of Lords' letter and running into the brothers, who are debating about what MC truly wants and if we feel obligated to stay with them after all. I wanted to give them an earful lol

They get into a fight because they get tired quickly of Mephisto provoking them, obviously. I loved the shit out of it, because he started bothering Lucifer about how he's "showing off" his wings and the brothers jumped to defend Lucifer instantly in their own way lol

LMFAO LUCI, LANGUAGE

God I love you Mammon GET HIM BABY!!

Yet another point in the "Mammon adores his older brother Lucifer over everything else". Everyone else too, but for me Mammon here dealt the strongest blow to Mephisto so he'd fuck off and leave them and Lucifer alone. Which he does after Barbatos appears to escort him away lol

That extra scene was really nice. Feels good to finish a Lesson with no strong cliffhanger, but I'm very curious about the trial, and maybe Diavolo will tell us a bit more about the Demon King. He tells us a bit in the Lesson, but it's just that he got mad at Diavolo when he tried to get the God of War's sword (who's entombed in the Mausoleum where MC is with Diavolo atm) when he was smaller. So far he seems to speak fondly of his dad, unless I'm forgetting any more details they have in the og story.

Well, there's that. Most important thing I took from here is that Michael is not Nightbringer, unless he's playing with us for some reason, but I can't think of why he'd do that. He seems to still care a bit about his brothers, and he's saved us twice and keeps an eye on us. I side-eye this guy a lot, but if his caring about his brothers is genuine I suppose I can just. Leave him be and just let him watch.

I'm still not over his quote in the new Nightmare Grimoire. There's more to him with us, but Solmare won't give us Michael crumbs yet. I hope they release his design soon because I'm DYING to see him and he's getting more and more involved with the story aaaaaaAAAA please give him long hair.

I still have to get hard mode, but I'm saving AP to try and get the costumes in Box 3... And my rng is terrible. I don't wanna use 240 hard-won points to buy Luci's and Satan's clothes, I'd rather save them for the level up offers, but I will if I'm unlucky in the boxes I guess o(-< well, good luck with your own boxes if you're hunting for them as well!

Edit: LESSONS 14-19!!

[unbridgeabledistances]

I love your last fic so much it got me thinking could you write something about like the gallaghers( +Kev and v and sandy etc) observing Ian and Mickey’s relationship? Like their perspectives of seeing them be soft with each other and just their dynamic? I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense lol <3

hiiiii anon!<3 okay i want to start off by saying that this got WAY too long, bc i loved this prompt a lot- so much that i think i might make this a multi-part thing on ao3! i started with sandy (since i am in love with her) but i’ll also go through the gallaghers/kev & v soon- lmk if u guys want me to continue, and who u would want me to write next if i do (or if u want me to continue with sandy lol i have lots of thoughts and feelings)

this ended up taking place in s10 when we first meet sandy, fyi:) also tw for brief mentions of abuse (as always, bc of terry 🙄) -- and there is a reference to the line in 10x07 that jokes about mickey and sandy for a brief moment

--

When Sandy heard her phone buzz on that Tuesday afternoon, sitting on the stained and lumpy couch in her shithead uncle’s living room while drinking a beer and arguing with Alek about what type of insurance fraud could make the biggest payout, she had no idea what to expect on the other end of the line. The phone kept ringing, the contact info lighting up the screen: MICKEY.

Mickey? Shit. It had been a long fucking time. Between her own various juvie stints as a kid and Mickey’s time behind bars overlapping just as she got released, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey since… high school, maybe? Whenever it was, it was back when Mickey was a grimy kid with spikey hair and dirty fingernails, a kid with an obsession with guns and way too much time on his hands, back when they would hang out by the train tracks and drink beer and get way too high and do stupid shit; all in all, back when everything was a hell of a lot simpler. Sandy assumed Mickey had met Royal and been clued in about her shitshow of a life at some point while she’d been gone, and they’d possibly overlapped at a family party or two a few years ago when they both were in town— but other than hearing about the aftershocks of Mickey coming out and driving Terry up a goddamn wall, so much so that Terry broke his parole and was headed straight back to prison hours after his release, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey in forever.

Which is why this call intrigued her so much— Mickey was supposed to be in prison for at least a couple more years, or at least that’s what his brothers had said, so why the fuck was he using a cell phone right now?

Sandy nodded her head towards the cellphone, cutting Alek off mid-sentence and sliding her thumb across the screen to pick up the call. Before saying anything, she rose off the creaky springs of the couch and speedwalked out to the front porch before answering— whatever the fuck Mickey wanted, she assumed he was calling her because this conversation wasn’t for the ears of any other Milkoviches. She lit a cigarette and leaned against the post of the front stoop, listening to the silence hanging heavy on her phone’s speaker.

“Mickey? You there?”

A low chuckle came from the other end of the line.

“Fuck. Been a long time.” Mickey’s voice sounded the same; punchy and snarky, maybe a little gruffer and raspier after years of cigarette smoke. Sandy waited a moment for Mickey to give more of a reply, or an explanation for his call, but it was clear that Mickey wasn’t going to give one right away— it was like he was testing the waters, like he was deciding if making this call was the right move. Soft static echoed on the phone line.

Sandy totally got it— reemerging from a life of cinderblock cell walls and barbed wire fences fucking sucked, especially when you were a Milkovich and the moment you got out you were faced with a choice, an opportunity: did you want to go back home, or did you want to start fresh, erase your own name, and forget this dysfunctional family ever existed? Sandy knew she felt the same way when she got out. Mickey deciding to call Sandy was a big fucking move, and she realized that— reclaiming your life as a Milkovich on the brink of a new beginning took guts.

“So, I take it you’re out of prison?” Sandy asked after a moment, inhaling another slow puff of her cigarette.

There was that laugh again— Sandy had weirdly missed it. Honestly, Mickey hadn’t ever been too bad to be around— they’d both felt like outsiders in the family, had both always had a strong head on their shoulders and a fucking moral compass, unlike the rest of Terry’s sheep who did his bidding and got swastikas tattooed on their chest. When he was younger Mickey used to follow Terry and his older brothers around like a lost puppy, and he even got those fucking knuckle tats—but later in high school, Sandy remembered seeing something deep snap inside him, bleeding out in “STAY THE FUCK OUT” and “FUCK LOVE” signs taped onto his bedroom walls. At the time she thought it was the fucked-up shit with Terry and Mandy driving him up a wall— but now she realized the constant bombardment of homophobia, coupled with the cuts and bruises blooming on his cheeks and the cigarette burn scars on his arms, must have been signs of Mickey realizing the rude awakening that was inevitably going to come if he wanted to be who he was. Sandy couldn’t even imagine— no one really gave a shit who she fucked, and her cousins didn’t know anything about her sex life—but she couldn’t fathom being Terry’s son, the pride and joy of the Milkovich clan, and needing to outwardly admit those deeper parts of herself.

“Yup, I’m free to join civilization as of this morning. Overcrowding or some shit.” Sandy could hear Mickey also taking a drag of a cigarette on the other end of the line. She smirked to herself. Guess we both didn’t break the Milkovich nicotine addiction.

“So, uh, listen,” Mickey continued, and Sandy immediately knew he was in deep shit if she was the one he was calling to ask for a favor. “I’m in a bit of a… situation. Don’t wanna go into too many specifics, but there might be a massive fucking Mexican cartel after me right now.”

Sandy barked out a laugh before she could help herself. Fucking Mickey. “Oh yeah? Sounds like you’re feeling thrilled to be a free man again.”

Mickey chuckled again. “Fuck you. But hey, d’you think you can bring my shit by to me, so I don’t have to stop by the house and get fucking killed? You don’t gotta rush or whatever, just didn’t wanna show my face quite yet.”

Sandy could feel all the unsaid things wrapped in the way Mickey’s sentence ended. Didn’t want to show his face quite yet because of this cartel bullshit, or because of Terry? She decided it didn’t really matter— Mickey was a good guy, she could spend an hour or so rounding up his shit and bringing it to him if that’s what he needed.

“Got it.” She blew out more smoke, watching it curl and drift over the wasteland of the front yard on a gust of summer air.

Mickey cleared his throat, like he was gearing up to say more. When he spoke, his voice was softer around the edges, more genuine than before.

“I’m, uh. I’m sure you heard everything about me while I was gone. About Terry flipping his shit. Probably not the best idea for me to come around the house quite yet—my brothers n’ I haven’t really talked much since then either.” He paused, inhaling another drag of his cigarette. “I figured you’d get it. And hey, if you can bring the stuff by, I’d love to hear all the badass shit you’ve been up to the past few years.”

Sandy nearly winced—yeah, if by “badass shit” you mean getting forcibly married to a douchebag and then couch surfing for months— but she tried to keep her shit together for Mickey’s sake. She stubbed out her cigarette on the railing of the porch, straightening from where she was leaning.

“I’ve got it Mickey, don’t worry about it. Where are you right now, anyways?”

She could hear the hint of relief bleeding into Mickey’s voice when he replied. “I’m at the Gallagher house? The grey one by the tracks.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “I was in jail for a couple of years Mickey, not braindead. I know where the Gallagher house is.”

Mickey huffed out a breath, but there wasn’t any sharpness in it. “Excuse me for tryin’ to be helpful, smartass.”

“Why the fuck are you there, anyways?”

“I’m, uh, crashing with my partner for now. Ian?”

Holy shit, Mickey was still fucking Ian Gallagher? Sandy had pieced together that Ian was the reason Mickey came out months after getting married to some Russian bitch, and according to Iggy the whole reason Mickey went to jail in the first place was some love-crazed revenge plot on Ian’s behalf— but since getting locked up Mickey hadn’t kept in touch with anyone, other than a shady-as-fuck message to his brothers after he’d busted out of prison letting everyone know that he was in Mexico, despite getting thrown back into jail in Chicago a couple months later. Sandy didn’t really know the details, and she especially didn’t know anything about Mickey’s love life— but it was wild as fuck that someone as unsettled and ruthless and batshit crazy as Mickey could’ve been with the same person all this time, especially someone as seemingly bland as Ian Gallagher. Huh. Wonder if I’ll get to see Ian.

“Got it. I’ll round up your shit and bring it by the Gallagher house later today. And don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know you called til you’re ready.”

Mickey exhaled on the other end of the line. “There shouldn’t be much, just check the drawers or whatever. “

Sandy knew for a fact that most of Mickey’s lingering possessions had probably been taken, sold, or thrown out by a zealously homophobic Terry by now, but she wasn’t going to say as much to Mickey over the phone.

“I’m on it. See you in a couple hours.”

“Hey, Sandy?” Mickey blew out a long breath, and this time Sandy couldn’t tell if it was because he was still smoking or because he was riding a wave of relief, releasing the floodgates of anxiousness he’d been holding in the whole conversation. “Thanks. I fuckin’ owe you one.”

Sandy smirked. Maybe Mickey being let out of jail early was a good thing, despite how fucked his whole situation seemed— maybe, for once, someone in her family would be fun to be around, wouldn’t set her teeth on edge every two seconds by making a racist comment or forcing her to be something she wasn’t.

“I’ll text you when I’m almost at your love nest.”

She imagined Mickey’s grin as he replied. “Fuck you. See ya soon.”

**

After scraping through every rickety dresser drawer in Terry’s house for nearly an hour, Sandy could barely come up with anything that was reportedly Mickey’s: a couple of tattered shirts, an impressively overused-looking bong, and a single sneaker she’d left behind because she couldn’t find the other one. She threw it all in some shitty burlap rucksack she’d found on one of the bedroom floors, assuming no one would miss it— it dawned on her that maybe her cousins were lying, and some of the other stuff in the house was still Mickey’s, but she’d collected what she could based on the whispered directions Alek and Iggy had given her when Terry was out of the room.

Sandy unlocked her phone, and typed a quick message to Mickey. “Out front.”

Mickey’s reply came quickly, and Sandy noticed the front curtains rustling on the top floor of the Gallagher house.

“Coming down”

The front door creaked open, and Mickey walked out onto the front porch. He looked good; he looked cleaner, sure, but also like a fucking adult—like he’d grown into himself, like he actually carried himself with confidence instead of just pretending to. He nodded his chin up at Sandy in acknowledgement.

“Long time no see.” He smirked, leaning on the banister. “You make a good delivery service. All those hauls we did with Terry must’ve been good training.”

Sandy lazily walked up the front steps, reaching the bag out in front of her for Mickey to take. “Here’s all the shit I could find. It’s not much.”

Mickey jerked his head to the open door behind him. “You wanna come in for a sec?”

Sandy grinned. Why the fuck not. “Sure."

So that was how she found herself perched on what was presumably Ian Gallagher’s bed, watching Mickey ruffle through the burlap bag, his brows furrowed as he realized just how much of his shit was actually gone.

“This everything?”

“As much as I could find.”

They comfortably chatted back and forth about how everyone was— Sandy decided to divulge the fact that Mickey’s brothers were idiots who tried to crawl in bed with her every night, which is something that she had to joke about so she didn’t go fucking insane sleeping under the same roof as them.

“Fuck ‘em, chop their nuts off next time they try it.”

Sandy smirked. Finally, a decent fucking relative. She made some hollow joke about staying with Mickey, alluding to the extra-shitty night decades ago when their cousins had forced them to make out when they were way too high on something.

“Or I could stay here with you. Have fun like we did when we were kids.”

“You know that’s fucked up, right? We’re fucking cousins!”

“Plus he’s taken.” A voice came from around the corner.

Ian Gallagher looked bigger, taller, and more solid than Sandy remembered; he was definitely miles away from the scrawny kid with the bangs who worked at the Kash N Grab that Sandy and her cousins endlessly used to fuck with in middle school. Ian’s shoulders were wide, his body imposing in the tiny room; immediately, Mickey’s aggravated stance softened when Ian walked in, wrapped in a towel from the waist down.

“Oh right, you.” Sandy grinned as Ian hunched over the bed and grabbed his deodorant from the nightstand.

Mickey had turned back to the bag of clothes. “Hey, I had shampoo and shit, is there soap anywhere?”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “You’ve been gone for years, you think your brothers would save that shit for you?” she bit out— and okay, maybe she was a little pissed at Mickey’s brothers for the constant-sexual-assault thing.

Ian just applied his deodorant and leaned in close to Mickey as he passed by the bed towards the doorframe. “You can use mine. We’ll hit Costco later, I’m getting paid.”

It was stupid, but Sandy felt something soft pang in her chest at Ian’s words; it was just now that she was realizing it, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen someone take care of Mickey before, or so… automatically factor Mickey’s needs into a situation. Being a Milkovich was all about scrounging and scraping, and guarding what little you had; a Milkovich would never let someone use their fucking soap just because they cared about them, or not as an immediate reaction anyways.

“Nah, I can’t, man. PO texted me when you were in the shower, he’s got a job for me.”

Ian kept looking at Mickey from where he was leaning in the doorway. “Then give me a list of shit you need, and I’ll pick it up for you,” Ian said in an overly simple tone, like he was mocking the fact that Mickey didn’t realize Ian would run an errand for him.

Sandy smirked. Jesus, Gallagher is whipped.

“Isn’t that cute, little domestic bitches,” Sandy crooned before she could help herself.

Ian stepped into the room again and leaned in towards Mickey, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s cheek while Mickey aggressively tried to uncrumple one of the pile of shirts from the bag.

“Mm, thank you,” Ian said in reply, his voice muffling as he smushed his face closer to Mickey’s.

Mickey instantly smiled smugly as Ian’s lips pressed against his cheek—then he noticed Sandy was staring, so he flipped her off and smiled even wider. What the fuck? Sure, Mickey had flipped Sandy off, but he was practically fucking beaming in a way that Sandy had never seen. God, wonder if I’ll find this shit someday.

Ian detached himself from Mickey and walked out of the room, Mickey’s eyes lingering on his torso. Once Ian had turned the corner Mickey snapped back to attention, fixing his eyes back onto the small mountain of clothes spread on the bed in front of him. Mickey lifted the bong off the bedsheets, and met Sandy’s gaze. 

“You have to go, or d’you wanna hang for a bit? I don’t have to be at work for a couple hours, and it’s gonna suck enough that I should probably be high before I get there.”

Sandy grinned. “Hell yeah, I’m down.”

**

They sat on the rickety back steps of the Gallagher house, silently taking hits and passing the bong back and forth. It had been years since they’d been in the same space, but Sandy and Mickey easily sank into a comfortable silence, passively surrounded by the shrieks of kids playing across the alleyway and the bubbling of water as they inhaled. Mickey blew smoke out of his nose, then sat back so he was leaning against the banister and passed the glass pipe to Sandy.

“So,” Sandy started as she held the lighter to the bong and inhaled deeply. “Ian Gallagher.”

Mickey huffed out a laugh. “Yup. That’s some Romeo and Juliet shit for ya.”

Sandy smirked as she exhaled. “You really fucking love him, huh?”

Mickey eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly as he looked towards her. “Yeah. Guess I do.” He took the bong from Sandy’s outstretched hand. “Took me forever to get shit straight with him, though.”

Ah. So their road to domestic bliss wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed. Sandy’s curiosity was growing.

“Because of shit with Terry?”

Mickey stiffened, coughing a bit as he exhaled smoke, like Sandy’s question caught him off guard. “Shit. Yeah. That too. Let’s just say there were lots of fucking ups and downs, and we both had a lot of shit to unpack.”

Sandy snickered. “You sound like a fucking couples therapist.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “If you wanna see couples therapy, I should tell you about the months me and Ian were sharing a fucking cell. We nearly ripped each other’s heads off. We literally stabbed someone so one of us might get sent to fucking solitary.”

Sandy’s laughter grew. “Are you fucking serious?”

Mickey grinned, and passed the bong back to Sandy again. “Fuck. Yeah. I fucking love him, though. He’s fucking crazy, and I still can’t let him go.” Mickey looked off into the distance across the alleyway, and either the weed was really hitting him right now, or he was being a very sappy motherfucker.

Sandy nudged Mickey’s knee. “You guys are cute together.” Mickey’s eyebrows raised when he heard the word “cute,” and Sandy quickly tried to rephrase. “Not cute, but y’know. Good for each other. You seem happy. Happy is... good.”

Mickey nodded pensively. “How’re you doing, anyways?”

Sandy shrugged noncommittally. “Eh. We can talk about me another time. How the fuck did you and Ian end up sharing a jail cell, anyways?”

Mickey let out a throaty laugh. “I heard Gallagher was getting locked up when I was down south, so I essentially pulled some strings and fucking snitched on the cartel I was working for. Hauled my ass back up here so we could be together.”

Holy fuck. Sandy’s jaw nearly dropped. “Mickey, you’re batshit crazy.” She shoved him squarely in the chest this time. “Are you fucking serious?! You evaded the feds, were living in Mexico, and you came back for Ian Gallagher?”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, placing the bong on the steps. “I can’t explain it, man. I just didn’t wanna be anywhere else, I guess.”

Sandy leaned back onto the banister. “Shit.” She paused for a moment, wondering if she should ask the next question. “Do you… want me to tell anyone you’re back?”

Mickey glanced over at her, his eyes alert. “Nah. Not yet. That okay with you?”

Sandy nodded. “Of course.” Mickey pulled out his phone, checking the time and presumably looking for a distraction from tiptoeing around talking about Terry— but Sandy had to tell him, had to let him know one more thing.

“Hey, Mickey?”

Mickey looked up. “Yeah?”

“I don’t really know the details of what went down with Terry, or whatever— but I just wanted to let you know that… if you ever wanna come home, I’m on your side. No questions asked. And I think a lot of the others are, too.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upward. “Thanks.”

Sandy stood, checking her phone and zipping her leather jacket. “Well, I’d probably let you sober up a bit before your big parolee first day of work.”

Mickey raised a middle finger up to her from where he was seated, but then rose to stand.

“Thanks for comin’ by. And hey—you’re free to crash here anytime. There’s a million fucking kids running around all the time, but there’s always a couch or something open if everyone at home’s giving you too much shit.”

Sandy felt something warm growing in her chest. It had been a long fucking time since someone offered to take care of her, just because they could, just because they wanted to— maybe being a Milkovich wasn’t half bad. Maybe there were some good ones.

Sandy nodded in acknowledgement, and turned to walk down the creaky back steps. Wow. If Sandy was sure of one thing right now, it was that Mickey really, really fucking loved Ian Gallagher.

[pinktatertots99]

updated vers of @keiiilalei‘s requested fic we collabed on. i mean they did most of the work i just copy/pasted the updated vers and the fic lol.

______________________________

“IF I COULD DIG MY TEETH INTO YOUR DAMN THROAT, AND PULL OUT YOUR VOCAL CORDS, I WOULD!” Aculeatus exclaimed as Barbata tried to hold him back with all his strength. Acu’s arms were still outstretched trying to get to Aechmea, fighting his exhaustion from the brief but brutal confrontation between them.

“You, sending a barely-experienced child to fulfill our mission on all their own, is this all a game to you!?” he shouted as Aechmea took a couple steps back as precaution.

“And here I thought you’d be grateful. It’s but a small price to pay for freedom. Regardless, the prayer machine will work again, with their help,” he stated firmly.

“All I went through, my sister, everyone...” Acu bit his lip, going limp as Barbata looked to Aechmea desperately.

“Sir, there’s gotta be another way.”

“If there was another way, we would’ve taken it long ago.”

“But what if… we could… There’s still time to-”

“The date has already been arranged. In a few short days, young Phosphophyllite, along with Padparadscha and Yellow Diamond, will activate the prayer machine.” Aechmea looked down to Phos who was sprawled across the floor in pieces, somehow still with a loose grip on their spear. The young gem caught word of the fight and sprinted to the scene as fast as their new legs could carry them. They had leaped into the princes’ crossfire just in time to deflect a potentially fatal blow from Aechmea.

As the twin nurses and the general rushed to gather Phos’ pieces, Barbata could feel his legs shaking as he tried to stay standing enough to walk out of the courtyard. It was hopeless to stop the Moon Prince; once his mind was set, nothing would deter him. Barbata was about to collapse himself when Acu suddenly mustered the strength to stand on his own and grab hold of his wrist. 

“I am finished with you,” he hissed, lifting his head to scowl at Aechmea.

“As am I,” Aechmea replied, turning away to head back to his quarters. “And I’m certain King Ventricosus would love to hear about what just transpired.” Acu stiffened for a second before taking another few moments to calm down. After his eyes followed the nurses who were carrying Phos to the infirmary, he then turned his tired face to the scientist, a broken “let’s go” escaping from his blood-smeared lips. 

___________________

Wrapping the gauze over a scratch on one of Acu’s arms, both sat on the edge of Barbata’s apartment bed, where no one could do them any more harm, at least for the time being. The room remained uncannily quiet except for the unravelling of tape, until the slug broke the silence.

“I thought… everything was… going well.” Barbata looked up slightly to find the slug looking downwards. “But my selfishness… my persistence keeps getting in the way. I just wanted to fix things, I...could have found another way.” Barbata chimed in.

“What Aechmea said was… actually right. If there was a better way to send us Lunarians off, we would have found it by now.

“But I could have done something more, maybe earned more trust from the gems, kept Phos safe when they needed it, anything at all.” Barbata wanted to believe a better method of achieving nothingness was still out there, one that would only release the Lunarians, the perpetrators of this cycle of suffering, out of the living world. He felt great shame at the fact it had taken him this long to realize how ruthless and uncaring Aechmea was at his core.

“With the way things are now, would those efforts even amount to anything?”

“But we have been TRYING SO HARD!” Acu exclaimed before settling down, hiding his face in his knees as Barbata patted his back.

“At least... you wouldn’t be a part of the problem, like me.” Acu looked up in confusion at what Barbata just said. The scientist continued, “All this time...I thought I was helping to achieve some big cause… I wanted to move on, I wanted to get out of this cycle of living. But I was so wrapped up in that desire that I didn’t even see the bigger picture.”

“But we can still change things, can we not?”

Barbata chuckled lightly. “I couldn't take leadership. Instead I watched as Aechmea accumulated power ‘cuz I sure as hell didn’t know what to do.” Looking down, he continued. “I knew he was a dick, but man...I’ve never wanted to fade away more than I do right now.” Struck with disbelief at this confession, Acu pivoted over his knee to stand above barbata, and lifted his face so their eyes would meet.

“Don’t say such things,” Acu stated shakily as he moved to hold his face. “You had no idea he would go this far, you just wanted peace.”

“And that’s gonna excuse all the lives I watched get shredded up?” Barbata refuted, moving his hand to the burn mark that covered Acu’s hip. “No matter what I do to help, innocent people like you keep getting hurt.” He paused as Acu petted his cheek lightly.

“Show me your scars again.”

Barbata’s face flushed a sunset hue as he moved to take off his coat and unbutton his shirt, showing off the surgical scars on his chest. They’d managed to follow him into his existence as a wandering soul, and were the only part of him that he couldn't alter with his shapeshifting ability, no matter how hard he tried. But Aculeatus had always lovingly admired them, probably because they both had scars of their own, giving them at least one thing in common.

“See? We both have been through, quite a lot,” Acu said through a chuckle. “And we can make it through this ordeal, too.” Opening his arms a bit, Barbata let the slug slink down to latch on tightly, resting his head on his chest as Barbata rested his own head on Acu’s.

“I suppose...if there is nothing we can do...we should prepare for the worst, then?” he asked as Barb chuckled in response, cloudy tears falling down his cheeks. “Yeah, I think so, probably,” he mumbled as Acu held him close. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m not leaving your side until the end.”

“And I won’t either, amica mea.”

[pinktatertots99]

another request for @keiiilalei for the speedrunner au. most of this is written/edited by kei themself so like yeah lol. i just had the weird structure but their really a good writer.

uhhh warning for i guess some blood mention and medical top surgery scars? idk how to tag those actually. also has kei’s headcanon of barb being trans in this so yeah.

Writing Prompt

19. “If I could dig my nails teeth into your throat and pull out your vocal cords, I would.”

_________________

“IF I COULD DIG MY TEETH INTO YOUR DAMN THROAT, AND PULL OUT YOUR VOCAL CORDS, I WOULD!” Aculeatus exclaimed as Barbata tried to hold him back with all his strength. Acu’s arms were still outstretched trying to get to Aechmea, fighting his exhaustion from the brief but brutal confrontation between them.

“You, sending the kid to fulfill our mission on all their own, is this all a game to you!?” he shouted as Aechmea took a couple steps back as precaution.

“And here I thought you’d be grateful. It’s but a small price to pay for freedom. Regardless, the prayer machine will work again, with their help,” he stated firmly.

“All I went through, my sister, everyone...” Acu bit his lip, going limp as Barbata looked to Aechmea desperately.

“Sir, there’s gotta be another way.”

“If there was another way, we would’ve taken it long ago.”

“But what if… we could… There’s still time to-”

“The date has already been arranged. In a few weeks, once winter comes, young Phosphophyllite will activate the prayer machine.” Aechmea looked down to Phos who was sprawled across the floor in pieces, somehow still with a loose grip on their spear. The young gem caught word of the fight and sprinted to the scene as fast as their new legs could carry them. They had leaped into the princes’ crossfire just in time to deflect a potentially fatal blow from Aechmea.

As the twin nurses and the general rushed to gather Phos’ pieces, Barbata could feel his legs shaking as he tried to stay standing enough to walk out of the courtyard. It was hopeless to stop the Moon Prince; once his mind was set, nothing would deter him. Barbata was about to collapse himself when Acu suddenly mustered the strength to stand on his own and grab hold of his wrist. 

“I am finished with you,” he hissed, lifting his head to scowl at Aechmea.

“As am I,” Aechmea replied, turning away to head back to his quarters. “And I’m certain King Ventricosus would love to hear about what just transpired.” Acu stiffened for a second before taking another few moments to calm down. After his eyes followed the nurses who were carrying Phos to the infirmary, he then turned his tired face to the scientist, a broken “let’s go” escaping from his blood-smeared lips. 

___________________

Wrapping the gauze over a scratch on one of Acu’s arms, both sat on the edge of Barbata’s apartment bed, where no one could do them any more harm, at least for the time being. The room remained uncannily quiet except for the unravelling of tape, until the slug broke the silence.

“I thought… everything was… going well.” Barbata looked up slightly to find the slug looking downwards. “But my selfishness… my persistence keeps getting in the way. I just wanted to fix things, I...could have found another way.” Barbata chimed in.

“What Aechmea said was… actually right. If there was a better way to send us Lunarians off, we would have found it by now.

“But I could have done something more, maybe earned more trust from the gems, kept Phos safe when they needed it, anything at all.” Barbata wanted to believe a better method of achieving nothingness was still out there, one that would only release the Lunarians, the perpetrators of this cycle of suffering, out of the living world. He felt great shame at the fact it had taken him this long to realize how ruthless and uncaring Aechmea was at his core.

“With the way things are now, would those efforts even amount to anything?”

“But we have been TRYING SO HARD!” Acu exclaimed before settling down, hiding his face in his knees as Barbata patted his back.

“At least... you wouldn’t be a part of the problem, like me.” Acu looked up in confusion at what Barbata just said. The scientist continued, “All this time...I thought I was helping to achieve some big cause… I wanted to move on, I wanted to get out of this cycle of living. But I was so wrapped up in that desire that I didn’t even see the bigger picture.”

“But we can still change things, can we not?”

Barbata chuckled lightly. “I couldn't take leadership. Instead I watched as Aechmea accumulated power ‘cuz I sure as hell didn’t know what to do.” Looking down, he continued. “I knew he was a dick, but man...I’ve never wanted to fade away more than I do right now.” Struck with disbelief at this confession, Acu pivoted over his knee to stand above barbata, and lifted his face so their eyes would meet.

“Don’t say such things,” Acu stated shakily as he moved to hold his face. “You had no idea he would go this far, you just wanted peace.”

“And that’s gonna excuse all the lives I watched get shredded up?” Barbata refuted, moving his hand to the burn mark that covered Acu’s hip. “No matter what I do to help, innocent people like you keep getting hurt.” He paused as Acu petted his cheek lightly.

“Show me your scars again.”

Barbata’s face flushed a sunset hue as he moved to take off his coat and unbutton his shirt, showing off the surgical scars on his chest. They’d managed to follow him into his existence as a wandering soul, and were the only part of him that he couldn't alter with his shapeshifting ability, no matter how hard he tried. But Aculeatus had always lovingly admired them, probably because they both had scars of their own, giving them at least one thing in common.

“See? We both have been through, quite a lot,” Acu said through a chuckle. “And we can make it through this ordeal, too.” Opening his arms a bit, Barbata let the slug slink down to latch on tightly, resting his head on his chest as Barbata rested his own head on Acu’s.

“I suppose...if there is nothing we can do...we should prepare for the worst, then?” he asked as Barb chuckled in response, cloudy tears falling down his cheeks. “Yeah, I think so, probably,” he mumbled as Acu held him close. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m not leaving your side until the end.”

“And I won’t either, amica mea.”