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labelma · 3 years

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all the pain of yesterday

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When the call comes, it’s a surprise.

Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it is.

“Hello, is this Fiona Gallagher?”

Somehow, Fiona just knows. She doesn’t know how or why, but...

“Yes this is her.”

The woman’s voice is soft, but clear, there’s quiet murmur in the background, it reminds Fiona of every time she got a call from the police station, the hospital, the school. For a moment, she feels like she’s 21 again, scared, alone, at her wit’s end, trying to hold everything together, scraping by with the skin of her teeth, always one wrong step from a catastrophe.

There is a split second of silence where Fiona knows this is it. Whatever the woman has to say- there’s no going back from it, as soon as the silence breaks. And it does.

“This is Brenda at Kindred Hospital South, your father Frank Gallagher was brought in experiencing hypoxia, disorientation and a high fever,”

This is it

“We regret to inform you that we did-“

This is how it happens

“Everything we could-“

Fiona’s blood runs cold,

“But your father passed away this evening at 8:46 from complications due to Covid-19.”

She knew it was coming. They all did. Frank had been dancing with death for years, how he had even managed to hold on for so long was beyond her.

It seemed that Frank’s luck had finally run dry.

“Would you like to make arrangements? If not we would be happy to help…”

Fiona isn’t listening. She tells the nurse to do whatever they need to do before hanging up.

She surprises herself when she feels tears prick the corners of her eyes, and she clenches her jaw. They won’t fall. She won’t cry over Frank. Not anymore. Not ever.

She takes a moment for herself, a moment to breath, a moment to consider the fact that she’s now lost both her parents, even if she lost them both years ago to drugs, to the bottle, to insanity.

She takes the briefest moment to grieve what could have been before stopping herself.

What’s done is done.

Her parents made their decisions, and she made hers.

Fiona thinks that at least now Frank and Monica will get to make each other miserable for eternity while they’re burning in the deepest pits of hell.

Or was it freezing?

Fiona never paid much attention in church anyway, on those rare occasions they went, usually to sneak bills from the collections plate.

Phone in her hand, screen still on from the phone call, Fiona realizes she doesn’t know what the next steps are.

Her instinct is to hop on the L, deal with the situation as it comes, never planning, never even able to plan because of the speed at which things fell apart. Her instinct is to go grab Frank from whatever shithole situation he got himself in, and slap some sense into him.

But obviously, Fiona couldn’t hop on the L, she was standing in the middle of the street in Chula Vista, California. Gone were the days of running into burning buildings with no forethought. Fiona had her life together. She had a serious job. She wasn’t busy juggling teens and pre-teens anymore.

And of course, there was no Frank to slap sense into anymore.

An odd pang twisted Fiona’s stomach at the thought.

She’s brought back to the presence when someone stumbles into her from behind,

“Perdóneme,”

The woman doesn’t look much older than she is, and she’s busy pushing a stroller with one hand, pulling a toddler along with the other.

Fiona sighs.

It’s time to face the music.

She calls her kids.

<hr>

Arrangements are made. Fiona honestly has very little say in them.

Frank wanted to be cremated, his family didn’t give nearly a big enough shit to make it fancy.

He had no possessions of value, nothing to give to his kids other than stained furniture, empty bottles, and trauma.

Really, Fiona is coming back for Liam.

Fiona was the guinea pig. The oldest daughter, the one who had no one except a wino father and batshit crazy mother to look after her.

Lip and Ian, born so close together, both so resilient, but still so so young when they first learned the hard way of Frank’s negligence.

Debbie and Carl, young enough to remember the times before Fiona dropped out of high school and made being a mother to her siblings a full time job. Old enough to remember all the times Frank stole their money, ruined their creations, hurt their very fragile childish feelings.

But Liam?

Liam never lived in a world where he had to be raised by Frank of Monica Gallagher.

And Fiona knows that she wasn’t the best guardian either. She knows that she abandoned him, even though she was the only mother he’d ever known. She knows that she’s done worse things.

But even when she fucked up, Lip was there to pick it up. And Ian behind him. And now Debbie and Carl are adults too. Liam would be just fine without her in the long run.

But still. Liam had the good fortune to be born last, young enough to be raised by his siblings, to never feel the sting of abuse and neglect the way the oldest five always had.

And Frank had always loved Liam, loved him so much. Liam was so kind, maybe even too kind. He loved Frank back, even though they all knew Frank was not deserving of such care from his youngest son.

So Fiona knew, knew it like she knew herself, that Liam, of all the Gallaghers, was going to be the most devastated.

And well, she missed her other kids too.

She hadn’t seen Franny far too long, hadn’t even met Fred. She missed Ian’s wedding, Carl’s graduation from the academy.

She’d stayed up to date of course, speaking with her siblings on the phone, FaceTiming to see her nieces and nephews, but she knew what it was like in Chicago. If you weren’t there you may as well not exist.

Fiona liked it that way.

When her plane had arrived at the San Diego International Airport all those years ago, she almost had a panic attack, nearly booked the next flight back to Chicago.

It had gotten easier with time.

For her entire life she’d been so tied to the little house on Wallace, she didn’t know who she was without it.

It was time to find out.

And she did.

She did find out, she found out what she was capable of, she found out how successful she could be, she found out who she was without living her life for her siblings.

Not that she would ever hold it against them but… She did what she could. It was time for her to live her own life now.

And for those very reasons, she was terrified of going back to Chicago.

She was terrified that all the progress, everything she built, all that she’d become, was nothing more than smoke and mist, ready to blow away the minute she arrived in the Windy City.

Which is why she never visited when Fred was born, or considered flying in to meet him.

Which is why when she received the surprisingly tasteful wedding invitation to Ian and Mickey Milkovich’s wedding, she regretfully declined.

She was so scared.

So scared she would go back and never be able to leave again.

But some of the fear had worn off over the months.

Her new life felt less like smoke, and more like a healthy young tree, still growing, but strong enough to weather a storm.

It was time to return.

<hr>

The plane ride feels oddly unceremonious for how anxious Fiona feels.

She watches as the Southern California coast line disappears from sight as the plane flies eastward, and wonders how she’ll be received when she arrives.

She doesn’t tell the kids she’s coming for a visit, worried they’ll make a big deal out of it, or worse, do nothing at all.

Chicago is exactly like she remembers it, and yet nothing like it used to be. Still dirty, windy, freezing, especially after her years spent in the San Diegan sun, but dotted with new boutiques, nicer buildings, fences that don’t look like they’re about to crumble into a pile of dust.

She has to fight to control her breathing in the Uber back to the old Gallagher house.

The sight of the sun setting over the familiar buildings of the South Side makes her feel something unidentifiable.

The house looks much the same as always, if not just a bit nicer due to Lip’s efforts to fix it up.

She hesitates for just a moment at the front door before turning the handle and walking in, refusing to give in to her doubts.

The TV is on, as usual. Debbie sits texting on the couch while Franny, much bigger than the last time Fiona saw her lounges on the couch engrossed in the colorful TV show, Carl next to her, also engrossed in the show.

She hears banging in the kitchen, and she walks towards it to find Lip hammering at the shelving unit, Tami preoccupied with hushing Fred, while Ian and Mickey sit at the kitchen table passing a beer back and forth, talking quietly.

Fiona is only a little surprised that she hasn’t been noticed yet. She’s quieter than she used to be, and each one of her siblings seems to be in their own little worlds.

It’s Liam who sees her first as he walks down the stairs, eyes red, looking tired, though his face lights up as soon as his eyes fall on her.

“Fiona!”

He runs into her arms, and the tears Fiona has been managing to hold back for days finally fall. She holds her youngest brother, and breathes in the familiar smell of his hair.

Liam’s shout alerts the rest of the family to her presence, and for a few minutes Fiona is wrapped in hug after hug, feeling laughter bubbling up in her chest.

It strikes her that even after so long away, she can still read her siblings like a book.

Lip is tense, she can feel it in the way he hugs her, in the hard set of his features, though Tami seems happy enough.

Carl and Debbie are both distracted, though the days where she could tell what kind of things they’d be distracted by are long gone.

Ian looks lighter, happier than she’s ever seen him, and for the smallest moment, she worries that Frank’s death may have thrown him into a manic episode before she notices the way Mickey has his hand firmly planted on his shoulder, and though Fiona was never quite able to trust him in the past, she thinks she does now.

She holds Franny against her hip, marveling at how heavy she is, while Liam entwines his fingers with hers.

Fiona gets the sense that she’s missed so much, and yet nothing at all, everyone falling into their familiar roles.

They settle in with coffee to catch up, Fiona hanging on every word, desperate to soak up everything she’s missed.

Lip decided not to sell the house in the end, figuring that the value in owning property was worth more than a quick payout which would disappear quicker that you’d think.

With Ian and Mickey in a new apartment and Frank… gone, the house was quieter, less crowded, a better place to raise two kids, at least until Lip and Tami could afford to move out.

Debbie had sworn off dating, saying she was sick of dating psycho chicks. Fiona laughs along with her and agrees, dating hasn’t been so kind to her either, but she suspects that Debbie will change her tune when the next person willing to go down on her comes along. She shares that same trait with Debbie, something she’s been trying to work on as she gets older and realizes how fucked up her habits and coping mechanisms are.

Liam is grieving, and Fiona’s heart aches for him. She cups her hands around his sallow cheeks and as she kisses his face and celebrates when he brushes her off, an embarrassed smile turning up his lips. She knows this is hard on him, Liam being the only Gallagher who truly still cared for Frank in more than just an offhand obligatory way. But she also knows that the hurt will wear off eventually as grief tends to do. Liam is young still, with so so much potential and such a bright future ahead of him. She’s not worried, even if she feels bad for leaving him.

She tells Liam that before she leaves she’s going to help get him into a good private school.

He deserves the opportunities none of his older siblings ever had.

Carl is still Carl, even if he’s trying to be a fine upstanding citizen. Still, she’s so proud he really seems to have made something of himself, even landing a stable union job.

Ian is happy, so happy, and Fiona lets his infectious joy wash over her. There was a time when Fiona worried for him. Worried he was doomed like Monica. She knew that stats, knew how hard it was for people with bipolar disorder to manage stable relationships, knew the Gallagher history was full of divorces and scorned exes, many of them hers, even without the added bonus of mental illness. When Ian was arrested and sentenced to three to five years in prison, she thought that was the end of any hope he had for a happy ending.

She’s glad she was wrong.

She can’t say she’s surprised by the reappearance of Mickey Milkovich in their lives, Mexico and prison be damned. Fiona doubted many things about Mickey, doubted his trustworthiness, doubted his intentions, doubted his stability, and all for good reason in her opinion. But one thing she never doubted was his love for her brother. Well, maybe there were times she doubted it a little, but she’s a cynical person.

She thinks that Ian and Mickey have the best relationship of any of the Gallaghers, a reality she would have laughed at 5 years ago, but it’s true.

She hopes that one day she can replicate their success, but she isn’t counting on it.

Right now she’s just working on learning to accept herself, and all her flaws.

It’s a process, but she’s getting there.

<hr>

Ultimately they decide not to hold a real funeral for Frank, not caring enough to plan one, and thinking Frank probably wouldn’t even want one.

Instead they congregate in the alley, joined by Kev and V as well as Tommy and Kermit, behind The Alibi to dump his ashes.

They aren’t so ceremonial, though Liam, with tears on his face does insist on saying a few words.

The whole ordeal takes no more than ten minutes, and when it’s over, Fiona feels like she can finally breathe.

Her entire life she was burdened with being her father’s daughter, living under his metaphorical shadow, even when she moved as far away as she could.

He haunted her every time she had a beer, every time she felt guilt creep in for leaving, every time she felt close to snapping at her new job.

But now Fiona thinks she can finally let it go, let Frank go, along with all her demons.

The flight back to feels shorter, or maybe Fiona just feels lighter. Somewhere along the way she stopped seeing Chicago as home, and finds herself eager for San Diego with its sun, beaches, and mountains. Her new home is her little apartment in Chula Vista, so close to Mexico she can cross the border whenever she wants, with her new friends, a new job, and a tan for the first time in her life.

She isn’t worried about her siblings. Lip is building a life for his new family, Ian is happily married to the love of his life, Debbie is learning and growing, trying to be a good mom to her daughter, Carl has a stable job he loves despite all odds, and Liam is the smartest and most resourceful of all of them.

They’re going to be just fine.

And so will she.

#shameless #Fiona Gallagher #gallavich #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #my fic

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jasonspetertodds · 3 years

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The House of Wayne

warnings: swearing, past mentions of abuse, homelessness and violence.

Jason silently slid through the window, his hips barely scratching the worn wood of the sill as he dropped into a crouch. Was it a little dramatic? Maybe. He didn’t care as he turned to shut the window just as silently as when he pulled himself through. Only when the window was locked did he finally stand to his full height. He hadn't been there in almost three weeks, preoccupied with a mission with the Outlaws.

He hummed, hand running along the edges of the dresser as he moved deeper into the room, avoiding all the creaky floorboards that would betray him. He didn’t really want anyone to know he was there, just wanted to get in and get out.

He should’ve known better, though. He was never that lucky.

He was lucky, on occasion, but not now, and not before. It wasn’t luck that kept him alive on the street, that was his own scrappy determination of wit and spite, he wasn’t lucky when he died. He was lucky when it didn’t matter. When it wasn’t life or death.

He inched his way closer to the hallway, palming open the door keeping the creaking hinges at bay. He could hear a TV going a floor down, in the kitchen, and he could hear a faint beginning of a noise a touch to his left, behind one of the other doors.

He ignored both, heading down the hall, staying off the runner to not track mud in and let them know he’d been there. He could keep his steps quieter than if they were on the carpet anyway. He let his shoulders drop in a dangerously casual manor as he passed the door he had heard something rustle around inside, not even a flicker of curiosity flitting through him.

Instead, he turned to the left, down the hall, past the study, silently lifted himself over the rafter of the first floor staircase and silently dropped down, landing in a crouch. His eyes narrowed before he moved deeper into the house, passing the silver candelabras that were dusted but never used, the same candles standing tall since he first arrived and died and the same Boston fern propped in the corner. He’d intentionally avoided the portraits, not being able to stand the wax sealed letter written in neat legible script asking if he could, would, sit for one. How it was different then the handwriting that carefully wrote his safe house address on it.

He had equal parts wanted to shred it, burn it, and curse it. In the end, he didn’t do anything. Just shoved it in the drawer of his bedside table along with his knife that he’d use to open the damn thing, resigned in ignoring it until he was in a better headspace to answer it. He shook his head as he turned through the french doors near the parlor and into the library. He knew Alfred was about, but knew because it was Tuesday the butler wouldn’t be anywhere near the library, too busy running laundry and preparing this week’s meals and dusting the upstairs.

Jason still didn’t know how the monolith of a man managed to clean the entire manor to such pristine condition, but like most things, he learned not to question it after awhile. Alfred just did. No more explanation needed than that. He launched himself over the settee, sliding easily over it, jumping up to climb up the grand bookshelves, not even giving an oblong glance to the rolling later not two feet from his side.

With the same ease of a jaguar climbing up its favorite napping tree, Jason pulled himself up to his bookshelves, easily sliding his leather-bound and gold leaf copy of a collection of Edgar Allen Poe’s short stories and poems. He had picked it up at the flea market near his house and decided it was worthy of the collection. He had slipped it between two others, one a first addition illustration of Poe’s work and a first edition copy of Frankenstein. 5¢ was a pretty good deal despite the small fortune he had spent on the first editions. But like Jason said, he was lucky when it didn’t matter. He’d found multiple rare books at the bottom of rotting cardboard boxes all across the globe.

He shifted a shelf up, his left foot freestanding while his right was firmly planted on the mahogany of the thing. He didn’t even turn, while pulling a battered paperback of Pride and Prejudice out, mulling over if he wanted to read it when he felt a presence behind him. He rolled his eyes, gently placing his book back and dropping two shelves below, “What do you want?”

“Why are you here, Todd?”

So it was demon he had heard shuffling around upstairs and not his dog. Damian was really the only one that lived permanently at the manor. Tim would float in and out but since Bruce came back, hell, even before that, he wasn’t always around. Jason couldn’t really blame him, instead he opted for his apartment in the Diamond District if he wasn’t in San Fransisco helping out with the Titans. Dick had his apartment in Blüdhaven, continuing his crusade there and if he was in Gotham he was in his own apartment on the Lower East Side or the Penthouse. Jason wasn’t familiar enough with Cass’ living habits but he figured she floated around a lot with hero business too, even if this was her home base.

It always kept them busy but Jason didn’t quite know how to stomach the fact that the manor had always been crushingly lonely even without him haunting it despite how many of them there were now. He shook his head, returning his copy of Robert Frost poems before moving to the right to the comedies. He didn’t want classics, instead opting for something a little more contemporary.

“Haunting your Dad.” He deadpanned, sarcastically as he was climbing over his collection of Greek tragedies to get to the section that housed Carl Hiaasen and Pat F McManus. He knew better than to open himself up to whatever barb was planted on the little bird’s tongue. Instead, he grabbed the copy of They Shoot Canoes, Don’t They? and jumping down from the thing, landing perfectly in front of the little Wayne’s judgemental gaze. He strolled nonchalantly from whence he came, noticing Damian tagging along behind him, demanding; “What were you doing?”

“Getting a book,” Jason responded, hauling himself over the banister, ignoring the kid’s scowl as he hurried around to climb up the steps.

“What are you? An animal?” Damian sneered, relentless as he followed Jason up to the second landing. Jason shrugged, “I’m a bored bat.”

His back was turned so he didn’t know if the demon rolled his eyes at his response, didn’t know if the boy could dignify himself enough to roll his eyes. He was eleven, though. It warranted an amendment of pride at that age. Jason wasn’t really in mad march to the window he was going to disappear through, keeping up his casual pace as he turned the corner to the office, curious that Damian was allowing himself to chase him throughout the place. Maybe he was lonely. Or, same as Jason, bored. He didn’t care to imagine keeping himself occupied in the vast expanse of the house while Bruce and Alfred were busy and Dickiebird left three weeks before in a huff.

Jason had time, he asked in his usual gruff tone, as he turned into a separate guest bedroom. Not the one he had come in, no sense in wasting a good entry and escape when he didn’t need to, “What do you want?”

Damian looked appalled that Jason would even suggest he wanted something from the older man, “What good is a street rat for anything I could want?”

Jason felt a vague flicker of annoyance bubble up in his naval, before he squashed it down, rolling his eyes and making a move to the windowsill, tossing the book down on the bedspread before roughly placing his thumbs where the fingerprint readers were. Jason hadn’t known what to make of Bruce programming his fingerprint into the fire safety automatic windows when he first found out, still didn’t. Bruce hadn’t even told him, but Jason was sure Batman knew that he knew now. Batman, after all, was omnipotent. Or damn near it when it came to his kids.

He shook his head, not wanting to focus too much on that particular detail. He hadn’t come here to get harassed by the little demon behind him, honestly? Jason didn’t even really know why he had his back turned. He didn’t trust the brat not to stab him in the back the second he saw an opening. Jason slide the window open, feeling the breeze on his skin as the old sycamore’s leaves danced outside.

Maybe it was because Damian had a certain amount of respect for Jason. Despite Talia keeping them both separate as best she could with his time at the League, Jason wasn’t stupid. He had put two and two together pretty quickly and he knew Damian wasn’t stupid, either. The kid had snuck in to watch him spar when he was still at Nada Parbat, risked what would be an abusive punishment if he got caught to watch Jason learn and fight. He cringed inwardly, knowing half the abuse that kid suffered even when he was the heir to that empire, when he did things right, let alone when he disobeyed.

Talia, he knew, tried to shield her youngest from as much of it as she could, but it was still an abusive death cult. Maybe Damian had picked up the care his mother showed to Jason, though he didn’t want to know whatever justification she had told her son about Jason. He cringed inwardly again.

While Talia saw and fostered the potential Jason had, in the beginning she hadn’t quite seen him as him. She had ulterior motives, but she always had and Jason knew he was being used, but couldn’t muster enough up to care. He had started as a rehab project due to his connection to Bruce.

Talia had thrown him into the Lazarus Pit, saved him the trouble of a second death after he so shortly woke up from before, to win points with her beloved. Affection and attachment had come later and Jason still wasn’t sure where he stood. As a pseudo second son? As another project? As an informant? He never had good luck with mother figures. It didn't really matter to him.

The point was Talia loved Damian with her entire being. Sure, it was misguided occasionally on account of them both being raised in a hellish death cult of the ages, but if anything they fit perfectly within the current generation Wayne Family, dysfunction was a lifetime warranty at this point. He knew where he stood with Damian. He would normally get a disgusted sneer of a Todd when he was around and outside of that there wasn't anything to work with. Sure, he knew the brat knew about him, probably more than he knew about Damian from his mom. Jason always noticed his eyes on him any time he was interacting with Dick, especially. It was there when he was talking or dealing with B on the rare occasion, but never as heavy.

Honestly? Jason wasn't going to touch the weird pseudo father-son bond those to had while Bruce was lost in time with a ten foot pole. It was increasingly funny to watch the dynamic as they went back to Nightwing and Robin, brothers. Dick might say that they were like him and Bruce when Grayson had first come to the manor. A mentorship, but that could really only fool a deaf and blind man. And Jason had seen through that veneer easily.

He snorted, maybe he should've picked up something with the House of Atreus, considering the House of Wayne was becoming incredibly close to it.

"You didn't answer the question." Jason stated, simply. Not sure how long the silence lapsed between them while he was internal monologueing. Like he could help it. Damian had crossed his arms behind him now, Jason spying on him in his peripheral, his expression was still harsh disdain, but it had softened some.

"Why are you here?" The kid asserted again, taking a step toward Jason. Jason turned to look at him, shrugging. He was ignoring Jason's question. The older man answered him again, "Like I said, I wanted to get a book."

"Don't lie. Todd. I'm not nearly as gullible as the rest of this family."

Jason fought the urge to roll his eyes, but made a mental note that Damian had said family, "I'm not lying." He didn't really know who the kid considered family, but he could guess and it was miles more improvement than when he first came to the manor. I am the blood son and all that. Not that Jason could blame him, his mother dropped him on the doorstep and his Dad, his real biological father had all but disowned him without knowing him.

He even scooped up the book off the edge of the bed, dumping it upside down to show that nothing was hidden between the pages before offering it up to Damian so he could flip through it if he wanted. The brat just stared at it, deepening his scowl, looking at it like it was rigged to blow. Jason supposed that was fair, in any other case, but his soul was exasperated at this point. He vaguely wondered if every conversation with the kid was like running into brick wall after brick wall at full speed. It probably was for Bruce, at least.

"You come here every once in a while just to read?"

"I don't read here," He was pointedly ignoring the other part of that sentence. He wasn’t going to be baited into giving himself away by short-stack to his left. Jason was getting impatient, so he asked again, "What do you want Damian?"

He knew the kid wouldn't have stuck around this long if he didn't want to talk to Jason about something. He flopped down on the bed, his ankles crossed as he folded his hands behind his head, the picture of relaxation. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Damian stiffened at the accusation, eyes narrowing the tiniest bit at being found out before he bit back, "Like I said before, Todd, what could I possibly want from you?"

"I don't know? Enact a grisly revenge scenario, cover for you, murder someone?"

He watched the kid flinch at the murder word. It was subtle, but Jason could still see it, the way he grit his teeth, eyes snapping shut as if he was suffering an actual blow. God, everyone in this family was dramatic. Jason rolled his eyes, waiting for a few more seconds before admitting, "I'd do that for any one of you. 'Cept Bruce, but you're smart enough to know that."

"I--I can't."

The younger boy didn't say anything after that and Jason inched forward, sensing where this was going to go. Jason didn't think he was the best person to comfort a child assassin, but maybe that made him the best person to comfort a child assassin. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. He hadn't meant to drag this up.

"Dami," He said gently, crouching so he was almost kneeing before his youngest sibling, the leather of his boots and jacket cracking at the action as he ignored the heel of a knife digging into his ankle. Damian slowly, almost shyly opened his eyes, keeping half of his face hidden from Jason. Jason, for his part, tried to paint a softer expression onto his face, "It's okay."

He recoiled at the nickname, but still had the same haunted face when he looked at Jason, voice hushed, "How?"

How did he know? Jason couldn't tell give him an answer outside of straight intuition, his voice was invariably softer as he shifted forward on his toes, leaning closer, "Damian. It's okay whichever one you chose, okay? If you completely reject what the League expected of you or if you decide to change B's philosophy down the line. Or if you create a third options for yourself. This, despite what your Dad wants you to think, isn't black and white, okay?"

Dami swallowed, hard. Obviously trying his best to keep his emotions under control, to squash any and all vulnerability down within him. Jason could relate. It was honest to god heartbreaking that a twelve year old like Damian had to be confronted with the complexities of an ethical debate like this. To be put in that position in the first place, but Jason knew life was very rarely fair.

Damian was making direct eye contact with him at this point, "How can the blood on my hands, even when I didn't know any better, be forgiven? Washed away?"

"Because you're a kid, Dami, you were just doing what you could to survive."

He looked affronted at Jason's suggestion that it was to survive but it wasn't like Jay was lying, even if his younger brother didn't believe him. If he didn't go through with League training and be up to snuff, he couldn't imagine the amount of abuse tenfold that the kid would endure. It was insanely traumatic already and he was their Prince who followed orders. That didn't stop them from almost killing him on multiple occasions if not for Talia's interference and his own sheer force of will that all Bats apparently had.

"You're still a kid," He countered, looking Jason full in the face now, refusing to hide, but his voice was significantly quieter when he asked, "So why haven't you been forgiven?"

Jason didn't know if he should be offended or deeply amused that a twelve year old called him a kid. He shook his head, standing up again to start to pace around the room. His soul was getting restless having a conversation to this magnitude. He needed something else to focus his energy on. He sighed, halfway to the bed, "Because I already knew Bruce's rule. I intentionally broke it. It was and still is a conscience decision to take someone's life."

He was struggling with his words, while Damian cut in, "I told you, ignorance isn't excusable for my actions."

Jason scrubbed his hand down the front of his face, suddenly very tired. Damian was still looking at him but it had shifted into a glare. He fought the urge to throw up his hands, instead focused on keeping the frustrated bite out of his tone, "What I meant to say, I think, is that every time I have ever decided to kill it's been my own decision. My own agency. No one was threatening me with anything when I pulled the trigger. You-- you didn't have that."

This wasn't working. He could tell by the way Damian looked like he was about to interrupt him again, so he plunged on, hurriedly switching examples. "Look, when I was on the street, I only ever stole out of necessity. I never took more than I needed," He explained, leaving out that he really couldn't have afforded to be greedy for a number of reasons, but Damian didn't need to know that, "Because otherwise I wouldn't have made it."

He still looked like he wanted to argue, but something in the way he shifted his clenched jaw was different, his mood softening the slightest when he finally seemed to grasp what Jason was saying to him. Jason probably should've gone for an animal allegory but he couldn't think of another species on the spot that coerced others to do things in quite the same way humans did. God, he felt like such an older brother, but he didn't think many older brothers needed to talk to their siblings about past infractions that included murder and the trauma that comes with growing up in a sadistic secret cult.

"It also doesn't matter," He said, a little offhandedly, flopping back down on the bed as he tried to shake the restless feeling out of his bones, "It's in the past. All that matters now is how you deal with it."

"Anyone can see how hard you've been working the last year and a half Dami to transform yourself, to be more informed and do the best at what you think is right."

He got a ghost of a smile for that, and Jason wouldn't normally admit such a thing, but the brat really needed a little bit of reassurance. The smile dropped though and with it, so did Jason's stomach.

"You've transformed, too. You reinvent yourself every time you step into this godforsaken city. And father still refuses to forgive you."

"Like I said," Jason murmured, feeling very much like he was repeating his conversation with Dick a month before, "'S different with me."

"It should not be." Jason shrugged, suddenly so worn out from the entire conversation and the mere idea of explaining the complexities of his relationship with Bruce. How it was rocky and probably never going to end in anything other than tragedy and heartbreak to a twelve year old. He also had heard the unvoiced question. Will it be like that when I'm older too? He didn't know. You'd think after six kids and a few other strays Bruce felt personally responsible for, he'd be better at this parenting thing. What was different though, was Bruce did seem to trying with Damian. He felt a twinge of jealousy at that. Whatever. He didn't want another one of them to suffer the same fate as he did. He was strong enough to take it for them.

Jason shrugged again, getting up off the bed and ruffling Damian's hair before taking his book and ducking out the window without so much as a hint of a goodbye. He couldn’t deal with this much emotion. He’d hit his limit and he needed to leave, his skin crawling with the scent of the manor.

Damian would know where to find him though, if he did was a whole different thing entirely. But it didn’t really matter to Jason as he dropped down from a tree and started his trek across the manor grounds, debating if he should check in on Alfred’s sage bushes.

#jason todd #red hood #damian wayne #robin #jason todd fanfic #red hood fanfic #damian's better to write than dick #but he still has a little ways to go #my writing #changed the ending bc i hated it

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years

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Carl’s Choice || Zach Aston-Reese

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: I think you all know how much I love ZAR’s puppy Carl by now. I’ve written a few blurbs for Zach but decided it was time to write a full length imagine for him. So I proudly present 4 times Carl chose you and 1 time he didn’t. Yes, I heavily featured Carl but Zach is in it too, lol.

Warnings: a couple of curses

Word Count: 3,180

~~~~~~~

Lately, you couldn’t tell whether it was almost Christmas or almost Memorial Day. These 60 degree December days were seriously throwing off your sense of time. Not that you were complaining...because you’d take this weather over freezing temperatures any day. In fact, you’d decided to take advantage of the weather, throwing on some workout clothes and tennis shoes before heading to one of the many parks in downtown Pittsburgh.

About 20 minutes into your walk you’d realized one of your shoes had come untied and you knelt down at the edge of the walkway to tie the laces back up. It was as you were adjusting your pants back down over the tops of your shoes that a high pitched bark sounded in your ears and suddenly an energetic dog was racing right at you. As you pushed yourself to your feet, you felt him quickly dance around your legs, and from off in the distance, you could hear a man yelling at the dog.

“CARL!” You heard the man yell again as he jogged closer. As your eyes took in the broad shape of the dog’s owner, your brain processed the name and the breed of the dog still dancing around you and all at once, everything clicked.

Squatting back down you let Carl sniff you quickly before he started licking you, attacking you with kisses.

“CARL!” The man repeated, now just a few feet away from you. This time Carl paused and looked over towards his dad, his tail continuing to wag excitedly. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” He explained and it was now that you noticed the empty leash in his hands. “I had him leashed and then suddenly he was just taking off towards you. I think maybe he thought you were hurt.” As he rambled, he moved to hook the leash back onto Carl’s collar.

“It’s okay.” You insisted, standing back up once again, your hands settling onto your hips. “He meant well.” A smile was growing on your face as you appreciated the man standing in front of you glaring slightly at his dog. “And it’s not every day you get kisses from your favorite Instagram pup.” You added, your lips pursing with mirth. Carl yipped happily as Zach’s brows raised, his brain processing your words. Suddenly his free hand was rubbing at the back of his neck and you could tell he felt slightly uncomfortable.

“I should get back to my walk now that Carl is satisfied I’m okay.” You declared, not wanting this to become a big deal. “Uh...it was nice to meet both of you, good luck with the season…” After shooting Zach what you hoped was a warm smile you turned on your heel to continue down the pathway. The moment you started walking, Carl whined loudly and repeatedly until you saw him appear beside you again, Zach jogging behind him.

“Mind if we walk with you?” Zach breathed, his voice somewhat hesitant. Your pulse skipped a beat as you watched him glance between you and Carl. Being back in close proximity to you, Carl had settled and his tail was wagging once again.

“Sure.” You eventually agreed. Normally you would be hesitant about a man inserting himself into your walk, but it was the middle of the day, and being who he was you doubted that you were in any danger. In fact, it felt far more likely that you would trip or sprain your ankle than that Zach would cause you any harm. And since you didn’t feel like you were in any danger, having company while you continued what you were already doing didn’t feel like too much of a hardship.

As you walked, Carl continued to yip happily, swerving to brush against your legs every so often. Eventually, you reached a point where you needed to rest, keeping up with a professional athlete and an energetic dog was just too much. As you flopped down into a patch of grass, Zach stood above you, his expression much more relaxed than it had previously been. At the same time, Carl came over to kiss your face again before plopping himself down at your side.

“You know. I can’t remember the last time he was so calm during a walk.” Zach mentioned, his hands tucked into his pockets. “Usually he’s wanting to chase every squirrel, investigate every tree.” It was left unspoken how much Carl seemed to like you but when you finally made your way back to the edge of the park you watched as once again Zach rubbed his hand against the back of his neck.

“Could I uh...could I get your number?” He questioned. “So maybe we could meet up and walk together again?”

After tapping your number into his phone, you bent down to pet Carl one final time, a giggle falling from your lips as Carl perched himself against your legs for more kisses.

Of all of the people Carl could have chosen to approach in the park, he had chosen you.

II.

When the weather allowed, and even sometimes when it really didn’t, you found yourself joining Zach and Carl on walks. The more time you spent together, the more open Zach became and if you were honest with yourself, those walks were always the highlight of your week.

On a Saturday afternoon in early February, you found yourself parking along the curb of a well-off neighborhood, a small gift bag in your hand, and a large crockpot of meatballs tucked against your chest. The moment you reached the front yard, you were thrown off balance as Carl bolted across the lawn. Zach’s booming laugh reached your ears almost immediately and you murmured gratefully at him as he moved to take the food from your hands. With your hands now free apart from the gift bag, you squatted down in front of Carl, accepting all of his kisses as you pet him behind his ears.

“And who is the sweetest birthday boy?” You cooed. Carl yipped in response and you leaned forward to kiss his head. “Yes Carl, I know. You’re the sweetest birthday boy.” When Carl started to nose against the gift bag you giggled and shook your head. “You can’t have that now, that’s for later.” You chastised. Instead, you dipped your hand into the pocket of your coat pulling out a peanut butter, pumpkin, and blueberry cookie that you had made for him for Christmas and which Zach had raved about him loving. Upon smelling the treat, Carl immediately started nosing at your hand and you shook your head.

“Sit Carl.” You directed. When he complied, you opened your hand, allowing him access to the treat. “Good boy.”

The clearing of a throat drew your attention up and you watched as Zach gazed down at you.

“Uh...Kelsey wants to know if she needs to do anything to the food you brought?” He murmured.

“Oh uh...they just need to be plugged in to keep warm.” You responded, a shiver running through your body. “I’ll uh...I’ll go help her.” You added. Zach summoned Carl to follow the two of you inside and he introduced you to his teammates as you slipped your coat and shoes off and made your way through the house to the kitchen.

As he handed you a drink a few minutes later, his hand fell to rest against your lower back.

“You know you didn’t have to bring anything.” He spoke softly, his mouth just inches from your ear.

“And you know my mama raised me better than that.” You replied, sipping from the drink and smiling as the fruity concoction hit your tongue. “Though you should probably try them before you think too highly of me.” You added.

And try them Zach did. In fact, he downed at least one whole entire plate of them himself. You mingled for a bit with the wives and girlfriends of Zach’s teammates before finally settling with a plate of your own onto the living room floor while a hockey game played on tv. You’d been seated for less than five minutes when Carl jumped down from his spot next to Zach to rest his head on your lap. Within minutes, he was zonked draped halfway over your body, and the fact that he had left his dad so quickly to snuggle you caught the attention of everyone there.

“ZAR bud, I think you’ve been replaced,” Rusty commented, a smile on his face.

“You’re not even your own dog’s favorite,” Jake added teasingly.

Zach just shrugged, an unreadable expression on his face. Carl didn’t move from his spot on your lap the entire game, and he’d only stirred when you ran your finger up and down his nose before murmuring that it was time for treats.

Watching Carl dig into his birthday cake before playing with the stuffed penguin you’d gotten him filled your heart with so much happiness. He was such a sweet and special puppy that even as a cat lover you couldn’t help but adore him.

As the sun set, you knew you needed to get home, though you didn’t really want to leave. Carrying the now cleaned crockpot, Zach walked you to your car.

“So I’ll see you in a few days for our walk?” You questioned, the idea having been mentioned earlier in the day. When Zach shook his head negatively, you were confused but figured he’d forgotten about some preexisting plan. “Okay then.” You declared. “Goodnight.”

“Wait. Fuck.” Zach breathed, his hand reaching out and falling to your hip as you leaned against the side of your car. With your lip tugged between your teeth, you waited for him to say something more.

“Instead of a walk…” He started. “I want…” He looked nervous as he spoke and it caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. “Let me take you out. On a date.” He requested, his fingers flexing against your hip.

Though you hadn’t seen it coming, you couldn’t deny that the thought of it had crossed your mind once or twice before.

“I’d like that.” You agreed, leaning up to press a quick kiss to Zach’s cheek, his scruff creating a tickling sensation. “But are you sure you want to take me out when I’m Carl’s favorite?” You joked. Zach’s eyes went a shade darker and he chuckled softly.

“He’s got good taste. I don’t blame him.”

III.

Being with Zach brought a new light to your life. While you had your struggles and disagreements like all couples do, being with him just felt easy. There was nothing you loved more than curling up with him and Carl on the couch at the end of a long day.

Even though you’d only been together three months, there was a part of you that felt certain that he was the one. So when Zach asked you to go home with him after the team was eliminated from the playoffs, you immediately agreed.

It wasn’t until you reached New York that you realized just how much of an accent Zach had and you couldn’t help but tease him about it. Just as quickly he threw back how bad your Pittsburghese was and you conceded knowing that he was right. While the teasing was a momentary distraction from the nerves you were feeling at meeting Zach’s family, the moment it ended, those nerves crept right back up.

As you pulled up to Zach’s childhood home, you glanced back at where Carl was asleep in the backseat. Gathering your bag from the trunk, despite Zach’s protest, you watched as he tried to get Carl up and out of the car with no success. Carl’s eyes were open but he remained sprawled out across the backseat, no intention of going anywhere.

“Carl, come,” Zach commanded, snapping his fingers at his dog as he worked to gather everything else from the car. A loud sigh escaped your boyfriend’s throat when Carl failed to obey. It had been a long drive and you knew Zach was tired so you rubbed your hand along his back.

“Babe...why don’t you start inside.” You murmured before turning your attention to the pup in the backseat.

“Come on Carl...car time is over.” You instructed and immediately Carl lifted his head before jumping from the backseat to stretch, pacing around your legs before trotting up the driveway. Closing the car, you watched as Zach let Carl inside before meeting you halfway up the driveway.

“I hate you.” He grumbled, again reaching for your bag which this time you let him take.

“You love me.” You replied, kissing his cheek before taking his hand in yours. As you turned to walk away he tugged you back to him.

“You’re right. I do. Even if my dog listens to you and not me.”

IV.

From the first night you’d started staying over at Zach’s, Carl had decided to make himself at home in the spot between yours and Zach’s feet. In the six-plus months you’d been together if Carl was in bed with the two of you, that was where he laid. When it was just you in Zach’s bed, Carl chose to sleep against his dad’s pillow.

So when he started sleeping pressed against your abdomen, it had struck you as odd. But you blew it off as one of his weird dog moods. Plus, it wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy more cuddle time with the dog you’d grown to love almost as much as his owner.

You were in the kitchen of Zach’s apartment making dinner while Zach paced around the apartment talking to his Aunt out in California on the phone. She must have asked about Carl because Zach started talking about his latest adventures before bringing up his new favorite spot to sleep.

You hadn’t realized he was on speakerphone until Zach stepped into the kitchen behind you, stealing a piece of cooked chicken from the cutting board beside you.

“Zach honey...I don’t mean to pry but I have to ask…” His Aunt’s voice floated through the speaker. “Is it possible y/n is pregnant?”

You nearly cut yourself on the knife in your hand as your body froze, the knife clattering onto the cutting board.

“I only mention it because it’s possible that Carl has sensed a change in the scent of her hormones and has moved spots due to an instinct to protect the baby.”

The room was silent as your brain spun, overwhelmed by her words.

“I uh... I gotta go...I’ll call you back.” Zach’s voice mumbled as the room started to spin slightly. As you wobbled, Zach’s hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back against his chest. Just as quickly, Carl himself raced into the room from where he had been sleeping on the couch and he nosed at your legs until eventually your body steadied itself, leaning back against Zach’s body.

After a moment, Zach scooped you up and carried you to the couch, his lips dropping to your forehead.

“Zach...I…” You weren’t even 100% certain that it was your voice speaking the words. As Carl jumped up beside you, Zach’s hand moved to cradle your jaw and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

“No...don’t.” He whispered. “I’ll go get a test.” He declared.

Twenty minutes later, dinner was completely forgotten as you sat on the couch, Carl’s nose tucked against your stomach while three positive pregnancy tests stared up at you from their spot on the coffee table. Mindlessly, your fingers ran over Carl’s spine as you watched Zach sitting next to you, his head in his hands from shock.

“We’re having a baby.” He eventually breathed, and when he looked up you saw that his eyes were filled with tears. “Fuck...I’m gonna be a dad.” Still uncertain about how he felt about that declaration your breath was slow and shaky. Then Zach leaned over and his lips crashed down onto yours. Upon pulling away, he glanced down at Carl, his fingers sliding from your neck down to the flat expanse of your belly.

“You’re the greatest dog ever bud. Good work.”

This time when Zach kissed you again, you could feel him smiling into it, both his and your own tears wetting your cheeks. “We’re having a baby.” It was one of the most amazing phrases you had ever heard.

Through the entirety of your pregnancy, Carl had insisted on sleeping as close to your baby bump as possible. Sometimes it was inconvenient, but it was sweet all the same. In the time you’d been together, Carl had certainly become more your dog than Zach’s but your boyfriend never really seemed to mind.

When you’d brought your daughter home, she’d started sleeping in the bassinet on your side of the bed. And Carl had remained by your side, though he shifted further down the bed toward your feet. You’d expected that now that Lindsey was here that Carl would resume his original sleeping positions, either between yours and Zach’s feet or at Zach’s pillow.

And when you’d placed Lindsey in her crib in the nursery for the first time while Zach was on the road, Carl had indeed been tucked up against Zach’s pillow when you crawled into bed.

You’d stirred sometime around 2:30 in the morning according to a glance at your phone. You’d expected to be up for a feeding by now but you hadn’t heard anything from the baby monitor. Immediately panic flooded through your veins and you almost jumped out of bed. A glance back revealed that Carl was also nowhere to be seen and that caused another wave of fear.

Racing to your daughter’s nursery you leaned over the crib and immediately almost cried in relief. Lindsey was doing just fine, her tiny fists were balled up above her head as she slept, soft snores like her dad spilling from her lips.

As your heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm, your eyes drifted further down the crib. There, curled up in a ball with his snoot resting on your daughter’s foot was Carl, peering up at you in the dark. A light laugh spilled from your throat and you reached down to pet him gently.

“I guess you have a new favorite girl don’t you boy?” Carl didn’t move but it was clear from the look in his eyes that he was going to do whatever it took to keep her safe.

By choosing you that day in the park, Carl had given you everything you could have ever imagined. Now he has chosen your daughter. Chosen to protect her, chosen to love her just as much as he loves you. He was truly the best dog and you were so grateful for the day he had bounded into your life.

“Love you, Carl.” You murmured, petting him once more before returning to bed, certain that Lindsey was in the best of hands.

#zach aston-reese #zach aston-reese imagine #pittsburgh penguins #pittsburgh penguins imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #ppenguins #035

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justdreamsstuff · 3 years

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Here are 75 quotes about success to inspire you to keep pushing forward and achieve your dreams

"If you set your goals ridiculously high and it's a failure, you will fail above everyone else's success." James Cameron

"Success usually comes to those who are too busy to be looking for it." Henry David Thoreau

"Things work out best for those who make the best of how things work out." John Wooden

"Entrepreneurs average 3.8 failures before final success. What sets the successful ones apart is their amazing persistence." Lisa M. Amos

"If you are not willing to risk the usual, you will have to settle for the ordinary." Jim Rohn

"Take up one idea. Make that one idea your life--think of it, dream of it, live on that idea. Let the brain, muscles, nerves, every part of your body, be full of that idea, and just leave every other idea alone. This is the way to success." Swami Vivekananda

"Stop chasing the money and start chasing the passion." Tony Hsieh

"All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them." Walt Disney

"If you are willing to do more than you are paid to do, eventually you will be paid to do more than you do." Anonymous

"Success is walking from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm." Winston Churchill

"Whenever you see a successful person, you only see the public glories, never the private sacrifices to reach them." Vaibhav Shah

"Success? I don't know what that word means. I'm happy. But success, that goes back to what in somebody's eyes success means. For me, success is inner peace. That's a good day for me." Denzel Washington

"Opportunities don't happen. You create them." Chris Grosser

"Try not to become a person of success, but rather try to become a person of value." Albert Einstein

"It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change." Charles Darwin

"Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people." Eleanor Roosevelt

"The best revenge is massive success." Frank Sinatra

"I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work." Thomas Edison

"A successful man is one who can lay a firm foundation with the bricks others have thrown at him." David Brinkley

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." Eleanor Roosevelt

"The whole secret of a successful life is to find out what is one's destiny to do, and then do it." Henry Ford

"If you're going through hell, keep going." Winston Churchill

"What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise." Oscar Wilde

"The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success." Bruce Feirstein

"Don't be afraid to give up the good to go for the great." John D. Rockefeller

"Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you." Nathaniel Hawthorne

"If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough." Albert Einstein

"There are two types of people who will tell you that you cannot make a difference in this world: those who are afraid to try and those who are afraid you will succeed." Ray Goforth

"Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can." Arthur Ashe

"People ask, 'What's the best role you've ever played?' The next one." Kevin Kline

"I find that the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have." Thomas Jefferson

"The starting point of all achievement is desire." Napoleon Hill

"Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day-in and day-out." Robert Collier

"If you want to achieve excellence, you can get there today. As of this second, quit doing less-than-excellent work." Thomas J. Watson

"All progress takes place outside the comfort zone." Michael John Bobak

"You may only succeed if you desire succeeding; you may only fail if you do not mind failing." Philippos

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear--not absence of fear." Mark Twain

"Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone." Pablo Picasso

"We become what we think about most of the time, and that's the strangest secret." Earl Nightingale

"The only place where success comes before work is in the dictionary." Vidal Sassoon

"I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everyone." Bill Cosby

"Though no one can go back and make a brand-new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand-new ending." Carl Bard

"I find that when you have a real interest in life and a curious life, that sleep is not the most important thing." Martha Stewart

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." Mark Twain

"The first step toward success is taken when you refuse to be a captive of the environment in which you first find yourself." Mark Caine

"Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect." Mark Twain

"The successful warrior is the average man, with laser-like focus." Bruce Lee

"Rarely have I seen a situation where doing less than the other guy is a good strategy." Jimmy Spithill

"Keep on going, and the chances are that you will stumble on something, perhaps when you are least expecting it. I never heard of anyone ever stumbling on something sitting down." Charles F. Kettering

"If you genuinely want something, don't wait for it--teach yourself to be impatient." Gurbaksh Chahal

"You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backward. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something--your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life." Steve Jobs

"If you want to make a permanent change, stop focusing on the size of your problems and start focusing on the size of you!" T. Harv Eker

"Successful people do what unsuccessful people are not willing to do. Don't wish it were easier; wish you were better." Jim Rohn

"The No. 1 reason people fail in life is because they listen to their friends, family, and neighbors." Napoleon Hill

"In my experience, there is only one motivation, and that is desire. No reasons or principle contain it or stand against it." Jane Smiley

"Success does not consist in never making mistakes but in never making the same one a second time." George Bernard Shaw

"I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well." Diane Ackerman

"Motivation is what gets you started. Habit is what keeps you going." Jim Ryun

"Our greatest fear should not be of failure ... but of succeeding at things in life that don't really matter." Francis Chan

"If you don't design your own life plan, chances are you'll fall into someone else's plan. And guess what they have planned for you? Not much." Jim Rohn

"Nobody ever wrote down a plan to be broke, fat, lazy, or stupid. Those things are what happen when you don't have a plan." Larry Winget

"To be successful you must accept all challenges that come your way. You can't just accept the ones you like." Mike Gafka

"Be content to act, and leave the talking to others." Baltasar

"You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it." Margaret Thatcher

"Be patient with yourself. Self-growth is tender; it's holy ground. There's no greater investment." Stephen Covey

"I owe my success to having listened respectfully to the very best advice, and then going away and doing the exact opposite." G. K. Chesterton

"Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up." Thomas A. Edison

"The greater the artist, the greater the doubt. Perfect confidence is granted to the less talented as a consolation prize." Robert Hughes

"What would you attempt to do if you knew you would not fail?" Robert Schuller

"Always bear in mind that your own resolution to success is more important than any other one thing." Abraham Lincoln

"Successful and unsuccessful people do not vary greatly in their abilities. They vary in their desires to reach their potential." John Maxwell

"Would you like me to give you a formula for success? It's quite simple, really: Double your rate of failure. You are thinking of failure as the enemy of success. But it isn't at all. You can be discouraged by failure or you can learn from it, so go ahead and make mistakes. Make all you can. Because remember that's where you will find success." Thomas J. Watson

"Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere." Albert Einstein

"Success is just a war of attrition. Sure, there's an element of talent you should probably possess. But if you just stick around long enough, eventually something is going to happen." Dax Shepard

"My tombstone? I'm thinking something along the lines of, 'Geez, he was just here a minute ago.'" George Carlin

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route22ny · 4 years

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*Gaslighting, if you don’t know the word, is defined as manipulation into doubting your own sanity; as in, Carl made Mary think she was crazy, even though she clearly caught him cheating. He gaslit her.

Pretty soon, as the country begins to figure out how we “open back up” and move forward, very powerful forces will try to convince us all to get back to normal. (That never happened. What are you talking about?) Billions of dollars will be spent on advertising, messaging, and television and media content to make you feel comfortable again. It will come in the traditional forms — a billboard here, a hundred commercials there — and in new-media forms: a 2020–2021 generation of memes to remind you that what you want again is normalcy. In truth, you want the feeling of normalcy, and we all want it. We want desperately to feel good again, to get back to the routines of life, to not lie in bed at night wondering how we’re going to afford our rent and bills, to not wake to an endless scroll of human tragedy on our phones, to have a cup of perfectly brewed coffee, and simply leave the house for work. The need for comfort will be real, and it will be strong. And every brand in America will come to your rescue, dear consumer, to help take away that darkness and get life back to the way it was before the crisis. I urge you to be well aware of what is coming.

For the last hundred years, the multibillion-dollar advertising business has operated based on this cardinal principle: Find the consumer’s problem and fix it with your product. When the problem is practical and tactical, the solution is “as seen on TV” and available at Home Depot. Command strips will save me from having to repaint. So will Mr. Clean’s Magic Eraser. Elfa shelving will get rid of the mess in my closet. The Ring doorbell will let me see who’s on the porch if I can’t take my eyes off Netflix. But when the problem is emotional, the fix becomes a new staple in your life, and you become a lifelong loyalist. Coca-Cola makes you: happy. A Mercedes makes you: successful. Taking your kids to Disneyland makes you: proud. Smart marketers know how to highlight what brands can do for you to make your life easier. But brilliant marketers know how to rewire your heart. And, make no mistake, the heart is what has been most traumatized this last month. We are, as a society, now vulnerable in a whole new way.

What the trauma has shown us, though, cannot be unseen. A carless Los Angeles has clear blue skies as pollution has simply stopped. In a quiet New York, you can hear the birds chirp in the middle of Madison Avenue. Coyotes have been spotted on the Golden Gate Bridge. These are the postcard images of what the world might be like if we could find a way to have a less deadly daily effect on the planet. What’s not fit for a postcard are the other scenes we have witnessed: a health care system that cannot provide basic protective equipment for its frontline; small businesses — and very large ones — that do not have enough cash to pay their rent or workers, sending over 16 million people to seek unemployment benefits; a government that has so severely damaged the credibility of our media that 300 million people don’t know who to listen to for basic facts that can save their lives.

The cat is out of the bag. We, as a nation, have deeply disturbing problems. You’re right. That’s not news. They are problems we ignore every day, not because we’re terrible people or because we don’t care about fixing them, but because we don’t have time. Sorry, we have other shit to do. The plain truth is that no matter our ethnicity, religion, gender, political party (the list goes on), nor even our socioeconomic status, as Americans we share this: We are busy. We’re out and about hustling to make our own lives work. We have goals to meet and meetings to attend and mortgages to pay — all while the phone is ringing and the laptop is pinging. And when we get home, Crate and Barrel and Louis Vuitton and Andy Cohen make us feel just good enough to get up the next day and do it all over again. It is very easy to close your eyes to a problem when you barely have enough time to close them to sleep. The greatest misconception among us, which causes deep and painful social and political tension every day in this country, is that we somehow don’t care about each other. White people don’t care about the problems of black America. Men don’t care about women’s rights. Cops don’t care about the communities they serve. Humans don’t care about the environment. These couldn’t be further from the truth. We do care. We just don’t have the time to do anything about it. Maybe that’s just me. But maybe it’s you, too.

Well, the treadmill you’ve been on for decades just stopped. Bam! And that feeling you have right now is the same as if you’d been thrown off your Peloton bike and onto the ground: What in the holy fuck just happened? I hope you might consider this: What happened is inexplicably incredible. It’s the greatest gift ever unwrapped. Not the deaths, not the virus, but The Great Pause. It is, in a word, profound. Please don’t recoil from the bright light beaming through the window. I know it hurts your eyes. It hurts mine, too. But the curtain is wide open. What the crisis has given us is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see ourselves and our country in the plainest of views. At no other time, ever in our lives, have we gotten the opportunity to see what would happen if the world simply stopped. Here it is. We’re in it. Stores are closed. Restaurants are empty. Streets and six-lane highways are barren. Even the planet itself is rattling less (true story). And because it is rarer than rare, it has brought to light all of the beautiful and painful truths of how we live. And that feels weird. Really weird. Because it has… never… happened… before. If we want to create a better country and a better world for our kids, and if we want to make sure we are even sustainable as a nation and as a democracy, we have to pay attention to how we feel right now. I cannot speak for you, but I imagine you feel like I do: devastated, depressed, and heartbroken.

And what a perfect time for Best Buy and J. Crew and Gwyneth Paltrow to help me feel normal again. If I could just have the new iPhone in my hand, if I could rest my feet on a pillow of new Nikes, if I could drink a venti blonde vanilla latte with two pumps of syrup, then this very dark feeling would go away. You think I’m kidding, that I’m being cute, that I’m denying the very obvious benefits of having a roaring economy. You’re right. Our way of life is not ruinous. The economy is not, at its core, evil. Brands and their products create millions of jobs. Like people — and most anything in life — there are brands that are responsible and ethical, and there are others that are not. They are all part of a system that keeps us living long and strong. We have lifted more humans out of poverty through the power of economics than any other civilization in history. Yes, without a doubt, Americanism is a force for good. It is not some villainous plot to wreak havoc and destroy the planet and all our souls along with it. I get it, and I agree. But its flaws have been laid bare for all to see. It doesn’t work for everyone. It’s responsible for great destruction. It is so unevenly distributed in its benefit that three men own more wealth than 150 million people. Its intentions have been perverted and the protection it offers has disappeared. In fact, it’s been brought to its knees by one pangolin.

And so the onslaught is coming. Get ready, my friends. What is about to be unleashed on American society will be the greatest campaign ever created to get you to feel normal again. It will come from brands, it will come from government, it will even come from each other, and it will come from the left and from the right. We will do anything, spend anything, believe anything, just so we can take away how horribly uncomfortable all of this feels. And on top of that, just to turn the screw that much more, will be the one effort that’s even greater: the all-out blitz to make you believe you never saw what you saw. The air wasn’t really cleaner; those images were fake. The hospitals weren’t really a war zone; those stories were hyperbole. The numbers were not that high; the press is lying. You didn’t see people in masks standing in the rain risking their lives to vote. Not in America. You didn’t see the leader of the free world push an unproven miracle drug like a late-night infomercial salesman. That was a crisis update. You didn’t see homeless people dead on the street. You didn’t see inequality. You didn’t see indifference. You didn’t see utter failure of leadership and systems.

But you did. You are not crazy, my friends. And so we are about to be gaslit in a truly unprecedented way. It starts with a check for $1,200 (Don’t say I never gave you anything) and then it will be so big that it will be bigly. And it will be a one-two punch from both big business and the big White House — inextricably intertwined now more than ever and being led by, as our luck would have it, a Marketer in Chief. Business and government are about to band together to knock us unconscious again. It will be funded like no other operation in our lifetimes. It will be fast. It will be furious. And it will be overwhelming. The Great American Return to Normal is coming.

From one citizen to another, I beg of you: Take a deep breath, ignore the deafening noise, and think deeply about what you want to put back into your life. This is our chance to define a new version of normal, a rare and truly sacred (yes, sacred) opportunity to get rid of the bullshit and to only bring back what works for us, what makes our lives richer, what makes our kids happier, what makes us truly proud. We get to Marie Kondo the shit out of it all. We care deeply about one another. That is clear. That can be seen in every supportive Facebook post, in every meal dropped off for a neighbor, in every Zoom birthday party. We are a good people. And as a good people, we want to define — on our own terms — what this country looks like in five, 10, 50 years. This is our chance to do that, the biggest one we have ever gotten. And the best one we’ll ever get.

We can do that on a personal scale in our homes, in how we choose to spend our family time on nights and weekends, what we watch, what we listen to, what we eat, and what we choose to spend our dollars on and where. We can do it locally in our communities, in what organizations we support, what truths we tell, and what events we attend. And we can do it nationally in our government, in which leaders we vote in and to whom we give power. If we want cleaner air, we can make it happen. If we want to protect our doctors and nurses from the next virus — and protect all Americans — we can make it happen. If we want our neighbors and friends to earn a dignified income, we can make that happen. If we want millions of kids to be able to eat if suddenly their school is closed, we can make that happen. And, yes, if we just want to live a simpler life, we can make that happen, too. But only if we resist the massive gaslighting that is about to come. It’s on its way. Look out.

https://forge.medium.com/prepare-for-the-ultimate-gaslighting-6a8ce3f0a0e0

#covid19 #return to normalcy #social manipulation #everything is broken #julio vincent gambuto

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kny111 · 4 years

Photo

Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting*

by Julio Vincent Gambuto

Pretty soon, as the country begins to figure out how we “open back up” and move forward, very powerful forces will try to convince us all to get back to normal. (That never happened. What are you talking about?) Billions of dollars will be spent on advertising, messaging, and television and media content to make you feel comfortable again. It will come in the traditional forms — a billboard here, a hundred commercials there — and in new-media forms: a 2020–2021 generation of memes to remind you that what you want again is normalcy. In truth, you want the feeling of normalcy, and we all want it. We want desperately to feel good again, to get back to the routines of life, to not lie in bed at night wondering how we’re going to afford our rent and bills, to not wake to an endless scroll of human tragedy on our phones, to have a cup of perfectly brewed coffee and simply leave the house for work. The need for comfort will be real, and it will be strong. And every brand in America will come to your rescue, dear consumer, to help take away that darkness and get life back to the way it was before the crisis. I urge you to be well aware of what is coming.

For the last hundred years, the multibillion-dollar advertising business has operated based on this cardinal principle: Find the consumer’s problem and fix it with your product. When the problem is practical and tactical, the solution is “as seen on TV” and available at Home Depot. Command strips will save me from having to repaint. So will Mr. Clean’s Magic Eraser. Elfa shelving will get rid of the mess in my closet. The Ring doorbell will let me see who’s on the porch if I can’t take my eyes off Netflix. But when the problem is emotional, the fix becomes a new staple in your life, and you become a lifelong loyalist. Coca-Cola makes you: happy. A Mercedes makes you: successful. Taking your family on a Royal Caribbean cruise makes you: special. Smart marketers know how to highlight what brands can do for you to make your life easier. But brilliant marketers know how to rewire your heart. And, make no mistake, the heart is what has been most traumatized this last month. We are, as a society, now vulnerable in a whole new way.

And what a perfect time for Best Buy and H&M and Wal-Mart to help me feel normal again. If I could just have the new iPhone in my hand, if I could rest my feet on a pillow of new Nikes, if I could drink a venti blonde vanilla latte or sip a Diet Coke, then this very dark feeling would go away. You think I’m kidding, that I’m being cute, that I’m denying the very obvious benefits of having a roaring economy. You’re right. Our way of life is not without purpose. The economy is not, at its core, evil. Brands and their products create millions of jobs. Like people — and most anything in life — there are brands that are responsible and ethical, and there are others that are not. They are all part of a system that keeps us living long and strong. We have lifted more humans out of poverty through the power of economics than any other civilization in history. Yes, without a doubt, Americanism is a force for good. It is not some villainous plot to wreak havoc and destroy the planet and all our souls along with it. I get it, and I agree. But its flaws have been laid bare for all to see. It doesn’t work for everyone. It’s responsible for great destruction. It is so unevenly distributed in its benefit that three men own more wealth than 150 million people. Its intentions have been perverted, and the protection it offers has disappeared. In fact, it’s been brought to its knees by one pangolin. We have got to do better and find a way to a responsible free market.

Until then, get ready, my friends. What is about to be unleashed on American society will be the greatest campaign ever created to get you to feel normal again. It will come from brands, it will come from government, it will even come from each other, and it will come from the left and from the right. We will do anything, spend anything, believe anything, just so we can take away how horribly uncomfortable all of this feels. And on top of that, just to turn the screw that much more, will be the one effort that’s even greater: the all-out blitz to make you believe you never saw what you saw. The air wasn’t really cleaner; those images were fake. The hospitals weren’t really a war zone; those stories were hyperbole. The numbers were not that high; the press is lying. You didn’t see people in masks standing in the rain risking their lives to vote. Not in America. You didn’t see the leader of the free world push an unproven miracle drug like a late-night infomercial salesman. That was a crisis update. You didn’t see homeless people dead on the street. You didn’t see inequality. You didn’t see indifference. You didn’t see utter failure of leadership and systems.

#opinion #literature #lit #covid-19 #coronavirus #pandemic #writing #disenfranchisement #oppression #abuse

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oforamuse · 4 years

Text

i’m a gallagher...get me out of here!

It’s been 3 days, 10 hours and 32 minutes.

3 days, 10 hours and 32 minutes and Mickey Milkovich is about to lose his goddamn mind.

a gallagher house quarantine fic

read & comment on ao3 (also read my author’s note pls!)

please reblog ❤

When the mayor had announced that the city was going into quarantine and everyone had to do their best to stay indoors, Mickey hadn’t thought much of it. He hadn’t been paying a huge attention to the news, but he knew there was some shit going around.

The shit was bad, apparently.

Now, 3 days later, he’s weighing up the pros and the cons of saying fuck it and burning the entire Gallagher house to the ground.

‘For the last time Carl- you, you can’t sell our toilet paper on the black market.’ Debbie yells through the bathroom door, ‘We need it!’

Mickey scrubs a hand over his eyes irritably, having been woken up moments before by an angry Debbie pounding at the boys’ bedroom door. Even with them now sleeping in a separate bedroom, it managed to echo across the hall and knock him abruptly out of sleep. He hears Carl cackle and run down the hall, his feet pounding.

Fuck, even with a global health crisis going on, they’re the noisiest fucking family ever.

‘I’m gonna murder your family.’ Mickey groans, rolling into Ian’s warm side. This is good, this is where he wants to be.

The other man chuckles, the vibration deep in his chest, and he brings a hand to rest on top of Mickey’s head affectionately, ‘They’re your family now too.’ Ian says smugly, his voice low and quiet.

Mickey makes a noise of disgust, ‘I want a divorce.’

‘Shut the fuck up.’ Ian says, rolling his eyes before poking Mickey between his ribs. He yelps out, surprised by the sudden movement, and grabs Ian’s wrist, quickly pinning it to the mattress.

'Gonna be like that then, huh?' He challenges, rolling himself on top of the other man, their chests flush against one another. His eyes flicker down to Ian’s lips, looking so soft and pink, so delectable. He smirks and leans in closer, breathing hotly into each other's mouths and their lips only an inch apart -

Carl comes crashing into their bedroom, tripping over the carpet and straight onto the floor with Debbie storming in after, launching herself straight for the toilet paper gripped in his hand.

‘Jesus Christ, Gallagher.’ Mickey grumbles, his jaw clenched but he allows his head to fall into the crook of Ian’s neck.

Ian sighs exasperatedly, moving them both upright to sit against the headboard, ‘Guys, knock it off.’

‘These things are going for like 50 bucks each on ebay.’ Carl yells, slipping out of Debbie’s way and jumping onto their bed, waving the toilet roll high above his head. ‘Gonna make some sick cash.’

Their mattress dips as he bounces around and every time his body rolls along with the movement, Mickey can feel himself getting more and more pissed off.

Bounce, fucking, bounce, shithead, bounce, Gallaghers, bounce.

‘Get the fuck outta here.’ Mickey snaps, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his hands. ‘It’s too early for your shit.’

‘Don’t touch your face!’ Debbie screeches, and Mickey rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his head. She moves forward quickly, tackling Carl by his knees and sending him tumbling to the mattress. They fall into a heavy pile on top of where Ian and Mickey’s legs are tangled together, Mickey flinches, pulling his knees up out from underneath them.

‘I swear to God- get the fuck out of here otherwise I will make both of you sorry.’’ Mickey bites, lurching forward to shove Carl off of the bed and onto the floor.

‘Ian tell Carl he’s not allowed to sell our toilet paper.’ Debbie snaps, grabbing the roll from Carl’s grip, who cries out in protest. She shoves at his shoulder, sending him back down to the floor. ‘Shut up, what if Franny needs it! Be a good Uncle Carl!’

‘Quit being an asshole.’ Ian yawns, his voice rough with sleep. Something low in Mickey’s stomach warms at the tone, it’s comforting and close. He shifts himself towards Ian because even though they spent an entire night wrapped around each other, it's never enough. Mickey's allowed to take as much as he wants these days.

He's drawn back by Carl moaning and picking himself up off the floor indignantly. ‘Whatever.’ He mutters, stalking back out of the room, 'You're gonna regret it when I'm making the big money!' He calls.

The kid never knows when to stop.

‘Can you believe him?’ Debbie asks, incredulously. She stands there, hands on hips, staring at the two men in the bed with wide, expectant, eyes. ‘Guys?’

God, Mickey is so done with every Gallagher except the one in his bed.

(He’ll never be done with him.)

‘If you don’t get out of here-’ Mickey starts, his tone low and pissed off, but luckily he doesn’t have to finish the thought as Debbie rolls her eyes and spins out of the room with the toilet roll in hand. ‘No one would blame me if I murdered them, you know.’ He turns to Ian, who has his eyebrow curved upwards, and a small smile on his lips.

‘Killing family members would be hard to explain to your P.O.’ Ian says fondly, leaning back against the headboard placing one arm behind his head. Blood shoots down to Mickey’s crotch at the movement, and he stares at the way the muscles in his husband’s arm pop. God, he’s fucking hot. All thoughts of homicide fly out of his head as a wave of attraction washes over him and all he wants to do is attack. ‘Don’t need you getting your ass thrown back in the joint over toilet paper.’

Mickey watches his lips move as he speaks, then thinks, fuck it. His hand comes up and grips the back of Ian’s neck, pulling him forward and crashing their lips together. Despite the initial intensity, it’s soft and gentle.

They break, and rest their foreheads against one another, breathing each other in softly.

‘What was that for?’ Ian whispers, his breath coming out in hot puffs against his lips.

‘Felt like it.’ He mumbles, his fingers curling softly in the hair at the nape of Ian’s neck. Ian smiles softly and Mickey can’t help the way the corners of his lip curl upwards to smile back.

Even with all the crazy shit going on they’re warm, they’re together, they’re safe.

They’d finally managed to drag themselves out of bed an hour ago or something, slowly pulling themselves together for a day of doing literally nothing except menial shit to pass the time. Mickey’s so bored he might actually start looking for a fucking hobby, God forbid.

‘Who the fuck ate all the cereal?’ Ian groans, turning around from the cupboard empty handed. Mickey looks up from his coffee cup, frowning. There was definitely a full box in there the day before yesterday - he knows, cause he bought it.

‘Sold it.’ Carl says from where he’s slouched against the sofa, flicking blankly through rerun after rerun on the tv.

‘The fuck you do that for?’ Mickey snaps, his jaw clenched tightly. These kids were fucking scroungers, always.

‘Some guy down the road wanted it for a couple of bucks, but I traded it for some hand sanitiser.’ He continues, his eyes not leaving the screen.

‘Caaarl.’ Ian says, his head falling back against the fridge in exasperation, eyes closed. ‘Please stop selling our shit.’

‘It was an investment!’ Carl protests, and Mickey's fist clench. All he wants to go the fuck back to sleep, but considering he can hear Franny wailing upstairs, he figures that's a bust right now. He resigns to grumbling into his coffee, Fucking Gallaghers.

‘Can one of you help me with my homework?’ Liam asks, sliding into the seat next to Mickey.

Jesus, they never stop.

He spreads a bunch of books and papers out on the table, and Mickey pushes his chair back, he is definitely not getting involved with that.

‘Nah man, I ain’t good with that shit.’ Mickey says, waving his hand dismissively. ‘Didn’t even finish high school.’

‘Which we’re working on.’ Ian says, his hands coming down to rest on the top of Mickey’s shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. He rolls his eyes, God, they have one conversation about him possibly getting his GED and suddenly that’s the plan. It makes him feel slightly weird and a little overwhelmed, but there's a small part of him that finds Ian’s belief in him endearing.

No one’s ever really cared about his future the way Ian does. He can’t be mad about that

'Hey, maybe with all this quarantine shit you could start studying for that?' Ian says, grinning. He knows he's pushing his luck, his eyebrow quirked, so Mickey answers with a solid middle finger.

'Not gonna happen.' Mickey says plainly, squashing down the way his stomach swoops at the idea.

‘You asked Lip?’ Ian asks, pulling out the chair next to his younger brother. Mickey leans forward and tops his empty mug up with coffee, Ian throws him a grateful look, smiling before bringing it up to his lips at taking a sip. It's domestic and a little gay, but Mickey loves it.

‘Yeah I sent him a text but he hasn’t replied yet.’ Liam answers, pulling out his pens from his backpack and setting them on the table, ‘I think he and Tami are fighting.’

Mickey shoots Ian a pointed look, eyebrows raised, because yeah, they’re definitely fighting. There’s been a constant stream of yelling coming from the RV in the yard for the last day or so.

Mickey wonders how long it’ll take for one of them to crack.

Almost as if they read his mind, the back door slams open and Tami comes storming in, baby Fred sitting on her hip.

‘Lip Gallagher you do not follow me in here!’ She barks behind her, her face twisted angrily. ‘I do not want to see your face right now.’

Liam looks wistfully outside as Ian leans back and pushes the door shut, ‘Lockdown.’ He says plainly and Liam sinks back into his seat.

‘You good, Tami?’ Ian calls over to where she’s pacing in the living room, Carl dodging around her every move to keep his eyes glued on the tv.

‘Yeah, great. Really fucking great!’ She replies, her voice tight as she bounces Fred on her hip. ‘We’re great.’

Mickey doesn’t really know a huge amount about Tami, they don’t really fall into each other’s orbits, but he knows she definitely does not look like she’s doing great. To be frank, she looks like shit.

‘You sure?’ Mickey says, shooting Ian a questioning look who responds with a shrug. They’re both out of their depth here, but the door slams open again and Lip comes rallying through.

‘Tami.’ He says, moving forward into the living room and the tension in the house suddenly spikes up fourfold.

She moves backs up quickly, positioning herself right in front of tv causing Carl to call out in a grumpy protest, ‘Hey! I’m watching that!’

‘Lockdown.’ Ian mutters, leaning backwards once again to close the door to the outside world.

Lip and Tami start screaming at each other, voices high and raised. He doesn’t even know what they’re fighting about, they move so quickly that the subject line gets lost. He’s unsure if they even know what they’re fighting about anymore but their shrill voices dig right under his skin. He's about to tell them to fuck off and take the domestics somewhere else away from them, when Ian looks over at him sadly, his face torn. Mickey softens and feels a tinge of sympathy in his gut, hating the fact that he has to watch Ian hurting over his brother - except he can't help but be thankful it’s not them. They’ve done enough of their fighting for a lifetime. He takes a deep breath, pushing down the feeling of rising irritation and shifts his hand on the table to allow his finger tips to brush softly on top of Ian’s hand. It’s only a small gesture amongst the chaos, but the way Ian smiles is enough for him.

A few hours later finds Mickey passed out again, because as it turns out, doing nothing productive all day is exhausting. It was a pretty restful sleep, he'd been snoozing quite deeply up until about 20 seconds ago.

There’s something prodding his face.

It’s the middle of the day and he’s just trying to take a goddamn nap but there’s something poking at his face like it’s Facebook in 2009.

‘The fuck?’ He growls, his eyes flying open and his hands coming up in front of him in defence. There’s a small squeak and Mickey sits up, letting his eyes adjust in the low light. Franny’s sitting a foot or so away from him on the bed, her face pulled into a wide, toothy grin. She’s holding a book tightly in one hand.

‘Stickers!’ She coos, before peeling off another one and jumping forward, sticking it right in the middle of Mickey’s forehead.

‘What the fuck?’ Mickey says, attempting to swipe up in protest, but Franny scrambles forward onto his chest, sticking more on all over his face and neck. ‘Hey, hey, no-’

‘Pretty!’ She says, laughing and throwing her small arms out gleefully. It's cute, but Mickey would be damned to admit it. ‘You look pretty!’

'That's great, sunshine, but get off.'

‘Mick?’ Ian calls, his voice getting louder as he enters the room. ‘Mick, I-’

He stops and there’s a beat of silence before Ian starts full on belly laughing, his shoulders bouncing up and down as his breath comes out ragged and disjointed. Mickey scowls.

‘Yeah, yeah, very funny.’ He grumbles, lightly pushing Franny off him and onto the bed. Ian swallows, gathering himself, though Mickey can still see the small smile playing at his lips as he tries, and fails, to hold it in.

‘Hey Franny let Uncle Mick sleep, okay?’ Ian says, his voice cracking with amusement as he tries to hold it steady. ‘Go find mommy, go on.’ He lifts her up off the bed and back onto the floor, guiding her gently out into the hallway. The action makes his heart ache as it thumps heavily in his chest.

Mickey may be pissed, but he can always appreciate how good Ian is with kids.

Ian comes back into the room, instantly laughing again when he crosses over to Mickey on the bed, ‘Come on Mick, you gotta admit it’s kinda funny.’ He says gently, wiping at his eyes, before turning all serious, ‘You look good with sparkly purple stars.’

‘Shut up, dick.’ Mickey groans, bringing his hands up to his face to peel the monstrosities off.

Ian grabs his wrist before it reaches his chin, ‘Is that a unicorn?’ He says, his eyebrow curving upwards and playful. Mickey’s about to shake him off, but Ian reaches around him quickly and grabs his phone off of the side.

‘No.’ Mickey protests, moving out from underneath Ian’s grasp. ‘No, not at all.’ He stumbles out of bed, his hands held out in protest in front of him.

‘Come on Mick, let me take one pic.’ Ian says, his tone lively and light. ‘Just the one.’

‘Fuck off.’ Mickey bites, but Ian already is leaning forward with the camera in his face, the flash goes off and he lets out a triumphant sound. ‘You happy now?’ He says, softening at Ian's joy.

Ian grins, nodding and Mickey rolls his eyes fondly, ‘You’re such an asshole.’ He says, but there’s no bite behind it. His husband is a fucking dork, and he loves it. ‘Now help me get these shits off my face.’

Mickey can tell it’s a surprise to the rest of the Gallaghers how well he and Ian are faring being hauled up together in the house for so long. He knows they all expected them to be at each other's necks all the time, considering their track record, but they’ve been to hell and back for their relationship so being locked in the same space for a minimum of two weeks? Piece of cake. It took at least a few months before prison life took a toll on them, and even after that they managed to work through it, thankfully. He remembers how horrible those couple days were, where it felt like neither one of them could do anything right, the constant digging deep under the other’s skin. Ian's voice sounding like nails screeching down a chalkboard. He shivers at the memory, at their sweaty yellow jumpsuits, and how suffocating it felt to be in that close proximity. This time it’s different though, they’re different, and he feels like he can breathe. He doesn’t think he’s been able to breathe this freely in a long, long time.

‘How are you guys doin’ it man? Tami’s about ready to rip my head off.’ Lip sighs, his hands coming up to rub exasperatedly at his eyes. He looks exhausted, eyes drooped.

They’re sitting out on the front porch steps, it’s about as far as they allow themselves to leave the house under their own lockdown rules. Ian’s leaning against Mickey’s side as they pass a cigarette between the two of them, they’re huddled in warm and close. They’re running low on smokes without the chance to run to the store, so they’ve taken to sharing one, neither man minding at all.

Mickey was enjoying the moment of peace and quiet away from it all inside before the door slammed and a pissed off Lip came out and slumped down next to them.

‘Prison, man.’ Mickey says as he exhales, watching the smoke drift wistfully into the air and contrasting against the blue sky. He places the cigarette in Ian’s waiting mouth who meets him with two deft fingers. ‘Once you live together there, everything else is fuckin’ easy.’

Ian inhales and Mickey watches the way his chest rises and falls as the smoke comes tumbling out his nose, ‘We’re also married.’ Ian says, flicking the ash down on wooden planks. ‘Kinda helps when you wanna spend the rest of your life with the guy.’

Mickey hums in agreement, his chest warm from something other than the smoke he’s been inhaling. He moves his hand to rest comfortably on the top of Ian’s bent knee, the wedding band on his finger catching the light, glinting brightly.

Oh yeah, he definitely wants to spend the rest of his life with this guy.

Truthfully, they’ve both been working a lot on communicating more since the wedding. Ian’s been trying hard to come clean whenever he feels hesitant about anything and Mickey’s been working on allowing himself to be heard, insecurities and all, without feeling the need to lash out. He’s no longer worried that Ian may one day turn around and claim their marriage was a mistake, he knows he’s as committed as he is, but the scars of his hesitancy still somewhat remain. They talk more, spend hours after sex just discussing their day, or taking a moment to open up about shit going on and allowing themselves the space to work through it.

It’s the first time in their lives that they don’t have an axe hanging over their relationship waiting to drop - and they’re revelling in it.

‘Well congrats to you guys.’ Lip says, leaning forward with his head falling into his hands. ‘Didn’t think I’d see the day where you two win on the functioning relationship front.’

Ian laughs at that, ‘Yeah I didn’t either.’ He says, and though his tone is light and playful, Mickey can’t help but elbow him in the ribs. Ian twists away from him, ready to grab at his wrist when-

‘HEY!’

They all, unfortunately, know that voice.

Ian tenses up next to him, and he slips a protective arm around his side, pulling him in closer.

The three of them look up from their spot on the porch to see Frank standing, swaying, on the opposite side of the street.

‘It’s my family! My ungrateful shitty famil-’ Frank calls, his arm waving erratically out to his side. It’s been weeks since they saw him last and they were all pretty happy figuring that he was okay with dealing with this shit himself, as he always seems to be. Mickey definitely hadn’t been bothered. ‘You gonna let me in my own home?’

His words are slurred and messy, and Mickey rolls his eyes at the idea of even in the middle of a global health pandemic, Frank still finds time to get completely smashed.

Who the fuck is still open to sell him the booze?

‘Not gonna happen Frank.’ Ian bites, stubbing out the cigarette by his foot.

‘Yeah, get lost Frank.’ Lip says, standing up from where he’d been seated. Mickey’s sure it’s supposed to look intimidating, but it doesn’t. He gives the guy some credit though, with the way he steps forward, fists clenched. ‘You ain’t coming in.’

‘My boys, my boys, h-how can can you leave your-’ Frank slurs, stumbling as he moves across the road towards the porch fence, ‘Leave… your poor dad out here in the face of the apocalypse!’

‘It’s not the apocalypse, Frank.’ Mickey snaps, already bored of the man’s bullshit. He’d say he didn’t know how Ian survived having Frank as a father growing up, but Mickey also dealt with his fair share of shitty fathers courtesy of Terry Milkovich - so he definitely knows what it means to survive them. ‘You better not come any closer.’

Frank reaches the chain link gate and shakes it angrily in his drunken stupor, ‘You hear that Chicago! My own family throws me out-’

‘Go find a bridge to sleep under, or go back to wherever the hell you’ve been staying- you ain’t coming in.’ Lip says, his voice hard and protective. ‘There’s too many kids here.’

Frank’s face twists in protest as he cries out dramatically, his hands coming down hard against the fence. Mickey hears Ian groan next to him and watches as he turns around and grabs the closest thing he can reach before launching it at Frank. The empty beer can bounces off of Frank’s head and clatters onto the street below.

‘We’ll see you in a couple of weeks Frank.’ Ian says, keeping his voice steady and casual but Mickey can hear the edge to his words. Irritation rolls off of Ian in waves, and Mickey places what he hopes is a comforting, grounding hand on his shoulder.

‘If I’m still alive!’ He yells angrily, turning away from the house and stumbling down the street. They watch as he drunkenly falls head first into the yard of a house a few rows down, before presumably, passing out cold.

At least they know where he is for the time being, Mickey thinks.

‘He’s gonna be fine.’ Lip sighs exasperatedly, before turning to move back inside the house. He stops, his shoulders hunched and his hand on the door handle. ‘Wish me luck.’

‘You got this.’ Ian says, and Lip gives him a nod before he disappears back into the house. Ian sighs, dropping his head against Mickey’s shoulder. It’s a little strange, and still slightly foreign for them, but softer moments like these are becoming more common.

‘You good, Gallagher?’ Mickey whispers, pulling Ian in closer by a firm hand on his hip. They’ve barely left each other’s side for the last few days - save to literally go pee and shower, and still all he wants to do is have him as close as he possibly can.

‘Yeah.’ Ian hums, his hand coming to rest gently on the top of his, his pale skin contrasting starkly with the dark and angry ink on his knuckles. ‘Yeah, real good.’

And they are, they’re really fucking good.

#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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archadianskies · 4 years

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Sea glass

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs Monday Day 1: Confession / Flowers; post-revolution Ralph/Bellini Paints Jerry

Deviancy isn’t a jarring, violent event for him. Deviancy bears no trauma, no sadness, no weeping like an open wound unrepaired so unlike the jarring violence he watched on the news.

Deviancy was slow and steady and gentle; the removal of a wall brick by brick. His entire life is this store, its walls lined with jars of pigments and illuminated with soft ambient lighting. All the cherry lacquer cabinetry has a pleasing rosy hue to the wood, and the polished brass knobs and handles aid in the stately, regal aesthetic of the brand.

He was purchased for Mr Giuseppe and Mrs Francesca Bellini in 2028 by Alessandro Bellini, their son, who had no interest in carrying on the family business. What began as menial help unpacking stock and keeping things tidy soon grew into him helping out at the counter and measuring precise pigment orders.

As the Bellinis aged he took on more and more responsibilities, and never once were they unkind to him, never once did they treat him as a cold unfeeling machine like so many others. Once the store closed, Francesca would sit him on a chair in the tiny tea room and wrap a knitted shawl around his shoulders to keep the chill at bay.

He learned to make them tea the way they liked it, and that the bakery further down, Essie’s, had sweet pastries that paired well with their tea. Giuseppe would pat his hands sometimes, a distant look in his eyes as he smiled a distracted smile.

He felt…calm with them. He felt feelings, good ones, whenever they interacted with him. He learned the names of the regulars, including the famous Carl Manfred who seemed very good friends with them both.

Death doesn’t affect androids the same way it affects humans, but he learns grief is the same. Giuseppe dies one Autumn eve in 2031 and he misses him like a missing biocomponent. Bellini Paints does not feel complete without Giuseppe Bellini.

A year passes and Carl Manfred gets into a horrible vehicle accident and can only manage online orders. One day an android turns up to collect Carl Manfred’s order. He does not look like any other android he has seen, nor any on the CyberLife catalogue. He has a gentle, friendly demeanour that is at odds with the methodical, purposeful behaviours programmed into androids.

The years trickle by, soft and slow and gentle like rain off rooftops.

A revolution happens and rocks America to its core and yet at the same time it seems like nothing has changed at all. Life goes on. Francesca leaves the city with her son well before the President’s orders but he gets her messages, her daily little ‘make sure you put on your shawl at night’s and ‘sleep well :)’s.

He comes to Jericho for the celebration of the Sentient Life Act and finally interacts with others of his kind and they ask him for his story, for his name. Vincent, he says, like Vincent Van Gogh because his hair is sunset red and he’s always liked his paintings.

They are alive, beautifully, colourfully, joyfully alive and he knows he is one of the lucky ones. Deviancy has been beautiful, colourful and joyful for him when it was harsh, cruel and sudden for others. Most bear their scars inside, but others have them carved in their casing. Human cruelty is as boundless as their kindness, varying by luck alone it seems.

One such android he meets on a late afternoon in the alleyway behind the store as he’s disposing of the delivery boxes. He’s a WR600 with a heavily scarred face and a damaged eye, immediately brandishing a knife when he realises he’s been spotted.

“It’s alright.” Vincent slowly sets the boxes down and holds up his palms in surrender, letting the skin recede to bear the white plastic beneath.

“O-oh you’re-” the android nods rapidly, red LED cycling down to yellow. “Sorry, Ralph doesn’t like humans. Humans aren’t nice to Ralph.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ralph. I’m Vincent.”

“Vincent. Vincent. Vincent.” He repeats softly under his breath, as if committing it to memory. “Humans keep you here?”

“No.” He shakes his head with a smile. “I stay here because I want to.”

“With humans?”

“Yes.” A nod, a sigh. “Well. One human now. There used to be two.”

“Humans are fragile.” Ralph nods rapidly, distracted. “Soft.”

“Can I help you? Would you like to come inside?” Still ensuring his movements are slow so as not to startle him, Vincent gestures at the door and opens it wider. “It’s cold out here, and there’s heating inside.”

“No human?”

“No human.” He reassures with a nod, standing aside so Ralph can peer into the storeroom and confirm for himself. “She’s with her son. She’s old and will come back when Detroit’s a little warmer.”

“No human.” Ralph nods rapidly and shuffles inside. He’s clutching a worn book in his hands, and the broken pastels Vincent had thrown out the other day since they were unfit to be sold. Ralph catches his line of sight, and nervously holds out the book. “When Detroit’s a little warmer.”

It’s an old worn notebook most likely salvaged from trash, pages waterlogged and creased but what few pages remain have been transformed into intricate garden plans.

“Ralph will plant seeds again. Grow things, nice things, big green things and flowers too.” His smile is bright and contagious, and Vincent finds himself smiling too. “Good good things.”

“Where will you grow your garden, Ralph?”

“New place, here, see? Ralph will grow them here.” He flips over to a different page and there’s a meticulously replicated map of Detroit city. “Here, by the bridge. Good size, near friend.”

“You’re friends with Theobald?” Vincent’s smile grows. “The brewer?”

“Good friend! Ralph is good friends. He’s very nice. Lets me sleep inside the brewing room. It’s very warm.”

“Did you need more drawing supplies, Ralph?” The other android nods enthusiastically. “Here, I’ll fetch you more. And a nicer visual diary, for when you run out of room.” He’s not sure if he’s allowed to give things away, but he’s considered alive now and he’s worked here for years so surely Mrs Bellini won’t mind? He chooses a tin of coloured pencils and a lovely brown leather diary with 200gsm pages. “Here.”

“For…Ralph?”

“Yes.” Vincent nods. “And you can come show me your progress, does that sound like a fair trade?”

“Ralph can do that!”

The snow melts away into Spring, slowly but surely, and that means during the transition between seasons there’s lots of rain and heavy slush. Detroit’s human citizens grumble and groan about how bleak the weather is but Vincent rather enjoys it from the cosiness inside Bellini Paints. Cold Winter weather and wet Spring weather are rather ideal conditions for staying inside to create art and so he’s kept busy filling boxes, attaching the smaller ones to drones and stacking the larger ones for the delivery team. Every so often he’d find Ralph waiting by the back entrance, fidgeting in the shadows and darting nervous glances until he let him in.

“They’re starting to bud! See? See!” Ralph excitedly shows him detailed drawings filling page after page; photographs replicated in pencil almost as if they belonged in an encyclopedia.

“You draw so beautifully, Ralph.” He compliments with a smile and Ralph flashes him an ecstatic grin before it wobbles into something a little shy, a little self-conscious.

“Ralph just draws what he sees.”

“How beautiful.” He says, and he feels like he’s not really talking about the way he sees plants anymore.

It’s a soft, fair afternoon and he’s left the back door open to let in the warm breeze and carry out the smell of paint that somehow lives in the very walls. There’s a faint scratching noise which would be unsettling to most but Vincent knew the origin well.

“Hello Ralph.” He greets before he turns around, and there’s Ralph scratching his hand across the doorframe in his shy anxious way of knocking. “Come to show me an update?”

“Ralph brings gifts.” His voice is a little unsure, a little nervous and Vincent smiles encouragingly.

“Gifts?”

“Ralph traded for them, Ralph made posters for Theo.” Enthusiasm flashes across his face and he thrusts out a neat carry case of four bottles. “Ralph and Vincent can drink them! We can do like the humans do!”

“Oh, is this Tearium?” Setting the pack on the breakroom table, he carefully extracts one of the glass bottles. “I’ve only had this once, when the Sentient Life Act was passed and there was that big party at Jericho.”

“This one is special.” Ralph nearly bounces with excitement. “Special special! Special for Ralph! Theo made it for Ralph!”

“Then let me get the special cups.” Vincent declares, opening the cupboard and taking out Francesca’s lovely tea set; a gift from her son when he traveled abroad. “What flavour is it?”

“Ralph won’t tell! It’s a surprise!” Ralph giggles, hands flapping as if barely able to contain his excitement. Carefully pouring them an equal share, Vincent raises the dainty bone china cup to his lips and takes a tentative sip.

Tearium is usually meant to be charged through a small device to heat it up, but even at room temperature the beverage is pleasant to consume. The coding spreads over his tongue and he tastes apples and cinnamon and a heaping of honey, like an apple pie that’s been turned into a drink or, well, he supposes that’s what it is since he’s not built to eat things.

He likes it, and he likes that he likes it very much because liking things is in itself an act of deviancy and one to rejoice in.

“It’s wonderful Ralph, thank you for sharing.”

“We can do like the humans do.” He says again, only his tone is different, like he’s nervously seeking approval from him.

“We can, Ralph.” Vincent nods, smiling as Ralph sips his own drink. “The two of us having a cup of tea during our break, like Mr and Mrs Bellini would do.”

The words come out of his mouth and they taste… like something he’s never tasted before, like this drink that’s new and wonderful and sweet. It fills him with warmth in the same way, and Ralph’s smile isn’t so wobbly from nerves it’s small and hopeful and shy and Vincent thinks he likes it very much.

“Oh Vincent, where is your shawl?” Mrs Francesca Bellini chides, tutting at him as she shuffles around looking for the knitted article. “You know it’s still chilly by the time we close, even if we’re almost into Summer.”

“Yes Mrs Bellini.” Vincent smiles apologetically. “Let me fetch it from the breakroom, I left it on the back of one of the chairs.” It is exactly where he left it, the yarn soft and pliant under his hands and it is a joy to touch, to hold after all these years because it belongs to him, because it was made for him and no one else.

Draping it around his shoulders, he re-enters the store only to find Ralph frozen still in the doorway, Francesca curiously looking at him from behind the counter. The android is clutching something behind his back, good eye wide in shock and LED bright red.

“Can I help you young man?” Francesca blinks, making a beckoning gesture. “It’s alright, I haven’t closed the banking off yet.”

“R-R-” Their eyes lock and Ralph steadies himself. “Ralph is here to see Vincent.”

“Oh! Well he’s just- there you are.” Francesca pats his shoulder approvingly, nodding at the shawl tucked around his shoulders. “Shall I leave you to close up? Alessandro will be here soon.”

“Yes Mrs Bellini.” He confirms with a small smile and she looks at him, scrutinises him for a moment before looking over at Ralph. She must see something he doesn’t because she smiles suddenly, a big bright smile that makes her eyes crinkle. She pats his shoulder again before leaving through the breakroom and out the back.

“You’ve never come through the front of the store before, Ralph.” Vincent comments as Ralph seems to use all his willpower to put one foot in front of the other until he’s standing opposite him, the counter between them. “It’s good to see you.”

“R-Ralph brought these. For you.” He thrusts a colourful bouquet of flowers at him, such an array it reminds him of an artist’s palette. When he accepts the bouquet, the realisation spreads through him like warm apple and cinnamon Tearium.

“These are the flowers you’ve been growing.” Vincent murmurs, and somehow it’s a beautiful joy and a beautiful hurt in his chest all at once, like an ache but a good kind. “Is this your update, Ralph?”

“We-we can-” he stammers, LED still red but determination in his eyes and perhaps maybe even some sort of yearning too. “We can…do like the humans do. Like your humans. The good ones. We can be together like them- if- if you want?”

“Yes Ralph.” Vincent smiles, reaching over to gently cup his palm against his damaged faceplate and he’s never been broken, never been ugly to him; his face is like sea glass, something buffeted and struck down and polished into something beautiful. “I want that very much.”

#dbhrarepairsweek #dbh ralph #dbh jerry #detroit: become human #annie writes: dbh #sneaking in the first entry in the last half hour of my bday!

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carldavidson · 4 years

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Book Review: Mike Stout’s ‘Homestead Steel Mill’ Is a Manual for Organizers

Homestead Steel Mill: The Final Ten Years

USWA Local 1397 and the Fight for Union Democracy

By Mike Stout

PM Press 2020

By Carl Davidson

Keep on Keepin’ On

Mike Stout’s remarkable new book of a recent large-scale class battle in Western PA can be read in many ways. First, it’s a history of Homestead steelworkers in the last years of their battles to improve their conditions and save their jobs. It’s also Stout’s personal autobiography of a working-class youth radicalized by the 1960s and 1970s and the culture of rebellion of which he was a part. Then one can read it as a fine example of sociological investigation and economic analysis of the Pittsburgh region.

All those brief summations are fine. But most of all, within all these, Stout has written an organizing manual for radicalizing workers of any age embedded in large manufacturing industries. Despite relative declines, these still exist in the Rust Belt and elsewhere. Unfortunately, the current younger workers in them have never been in a union and only know about them from the lore passed down by fathers and grandfathers. Thus nearly all of them are in dire need of new crews of organizers like Mike Stout--or who at least have studied this book.

What makes Stout’s narrative unique is the quality of his personal commitment. In the 1970s, thousands of radicalized young college students, with or without degrees, went into the factories to organize ‘for the revolution.’ A few did well; most did not. But Stout was not one of these. Getting into the mill and the struggle there was a step up for him, as an unemployed kid from Kentucky trying to make a living as a political rock and roller and folk singer. He desperately needed a day job, and getting into Homestead mill enabled him to do both, however hard the work. He had more in common with the returning Vietnam vets in the mill than transplanted student radicals, not that he lacked respect for the latter.

This is not to say that the thousands of workers in a four-mile-long mill were monolithic. Far from it. Stout goes on at length throughout the book describing rivalries between a dozen nationalities, between races and sexes, generations, skilled and lesser skilled, and old timers and newcomers.

‘As the book’s title suggests, however, Stout sticks to his outline of ‘the last ten years,’ although it stretches a bit longer to include the aftermath. At the start, hardly anyone had a premonition of what was in store for them—the mills had been there as long as anyone could remember, and thus they would continue into the future. What was different was the owners were squeezing the workers harder, and after the Red purges of the 1950s, the unions had grown cozier with the bosses, The stage was set for rank and file insurgency, and this is the setting Stout entered as a new hire.

Nearly everyone in Western PA gets a nickname in high school or at work. Stout was no different, and his fellow workers tagged him ‘Kentucky’ and it stuck. He laid low in his early months, trying to find the best ways to survive and thrive working rotating shifts. The older ‘beer and a shot’ workers in the bars raised an eyebrow because he only drank red wine, but he slid in easy with the younger crowd that liked their alcohol combined with reefer. Mainly Stout had his eye on a crane operating job, but he was amazed at the skills—and luck—involved to do it safely. It would take some time. But early on, he got the reputation as a guy who resisted any crap thrown at him by foremen. This led him to find a small group of militant workers seeking to find a way to change the union into an instrument that would fight for them.

They certainly had a history behind them. Homestead was a center for more than 150,000 steelworkers in Western PA and neighboring states. The ‘Battle of Homestead’ of the previous century had been compared to the Paris Commune, and fierce battles of the Steel Workers Organizing Committee in the 1930s had helped found the CIO. FDR’s Labor Secretary, Frances Perkins, visited the Homestead Works, but forbidden to speak on the grounds. Legend has it that she spotted a US flag flying over a post office, made her way there, where she delivered a fiery speech for the rights of labor.

Stout quickly joined up with the rank-and-file group and started planning a campaign. Perhaps their most important early project was to start a plant-wide newspaper, the 1397 Rank and Filer. Stout’s description of its impact and evolution over the years is an instructive tale of how a newspaper can become a ‘collective organizer.’ When an organization had to spread the word over a mill measured in square miles, and where thousands of workers on one end often knew little of events on another, it was indispensable. Moreover, the mill was subdivided into what Spout called ‘feudal fiefdoms’ ruled by petty tyrants with divide and rule tactics

The workers also had to have access to the newspaper and to trust it. So it was open to letters, hand-drawn cartoons, and a popular feature called ‘Plant Plague’ that expose the injustices and pure nastiness of plant foremen. It also published studies of the union contract and the misdeeds of the union officials, all with an eye toward replacing them.

After many skirmishes, it paid off. The Local 1397 Rank and File Caucus eventually evolved from a militant minority to a progressive majority of union members and took over the local. There’s a long story in between, of course, but it’s worth reading Stout’s account in full.

For his own role, Stout appears to have made several wise decisions early on and stuck to them. One was to keep his connection with the editorial group that put out the newspaper, both before and after the takeover of the local. The other was to avoid seeking a top post for himself. Early on, because of his unflinching willingness to not only defend workers with a beef, but also to get them involved in their own defense, he rose to a more organic leader. This meant he became a ‘griever’ or grievanceman, eventually becoming a chief griever, and one of the best of them. It might take years, but Stout often won his cases. Even if a worker died, he persisted, winning benefits for surviving families.

Another reason for Stout’s influence was practicing a consistent left politics, expressed in his own terms, and never trying to hide his values, despite red-baiting and other attempts at personal slanders. He offers several accounts of standing up against racism and sexism when it erupted among the workers themselves, as well as used as a weapon by supervisors and other higher-ups.

Stout was known as a socialist inside and outside the mill. At one point, he was connected with the Revolutionary Union, an early 1970s Marxist-Leninist nationwide group. It had rank-and-file union newspapers in other cities and industries, but Stout detached from it as it became too sectarian for his taste.

But what is powerfully portrayed in the book is Stout’s astute combinations of politics with culture. Its pages are replete with the lyrics of dozens of songs written for working-class battles in Homestead and beyond. Together with them are stories of how music was used for firing up picket lines or finding creative ways to raise money. It helped that Stout was good at it, not just knowing a few old labor songs, but pulling together full-fledged rock band performances.

By the middle of the book, you get pulled into the sense of impending doom shared among the workers. What we now know as ‘the Rust Belt’ was being born. Faced with competition abroad and poor management at home, neoliberal capitalism tore up its postwar ‘social contracts.’ Corporate boardrooms closed plants here and shipped production offshore in search of cheaper labor. In some cases, it used modernization to cut workforces by half or more, while keeping production at old levels.

At this point, both Local 1397 and the USW generally learned that unions could not survive without wider allies. Stout unfolds the saga of the nationwide movements in the 1980s and 1990s against plant closings. Workers sought community and government partners in an effort to save profitable businesses by innovation and reorganization, or even in some cases, attempting to buy out and take over the plants themselves.

None of these paid off much, at least in the Homestead area. Stout describes somes of the proposed deals as ‘Last Suppers before our execution.’ But he nonetheless tells a tale of the value of persistence, where he continued to carry on battles and win major grievances for workers even after the plant was closed, the union reduced to a shell and Stout himself among the unemployed. He soldiered on by forming a union print shop as a workers coop, as well as making a few bucks playing concerts here and abroad.

Despite this grim conclusion, ‘Homestead Steel Mill: The Last Ten Years’ is a hopeful book. It draws positive lessons from defeats, showing the need for wider and more protracted political strategies. It’s not enough to press liberals to do good things; workers need a vision of taking power themselves. And the lessons of its victories stand out as well. Workers can win when they are well-organized, well-informed, and well-inspired. They need a culture of solidarity and mutual aid to fight for what belongs to them, not only the part, but the whole deal. You can buy the book HERE

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twdeadfanfic · 5 years

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It’s a dog’s life Pt.10

*Summary: The reader is new and alone at the quarry’s camp, the only one she has is her dog, who seems to be best friends with Daryl Dixon, a not so friendly man, but that friendship will bring the reader closer to Daryl, finding that there’s more to Daryl than what you can see at first glance…besides, he’s pretty hot at first glance, isn’t him?

*Slow burn, both reader and Daryl’s pov, violence and language twd style.Follows the events of season 1 and 2.

*4112 words

*Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Chapters: 10/14

*Link to my masterlist with my other works can be found on the description of this blog. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but tumblr doesn’t show posts with links in the tags

Last chapter Daryl got hurt looking for Sophia and the reader has alternated between keeping an eye on him and going looking for Sophia. but she hasn’t had much luck at it...

........................................................................................................................

In just a day, Hershel declared Daryl good enough to leave the house, though he still had to rest on his tent and shouldn’t move too much or he might pop a stitch. Daryl was recovering fast, sure, but you also knew Hershel didn’t like to have your people in his house. Carl was on his feet too and running around already, to everyone’s relief.

You were cleaning the stables and tending to the horses, all of you were working around the farm to try and gain Hershel to your side, and you were trying to make up for having taken the horses too. As soon as you finished, you intended to go check on Daryl. Cole had been with you for a while, but now he had disappeared and you had a feeling of where he might be.

Your guess had been right, you saw him running away from Daryl’s tent to catch a small stick that had landed not too far from the tent and which probably Daryl had thrown him from inside. Cole took the stick and walked into the tent, you behind him.

“Hi, there.” You greeted, kneeling down inside the tent. Daryl gave you a nod and a hum, taking the stick and scratching Cole’s head, who just seemed to realize you were there, barking as a greeting and licking your hand. You noticed a book on the ground next to Daryl and you picked it up. “What you got there?”

“Andrea gave it to me earlier.”

You read the summary, it seemed to be some sort of detectives and crimes thing. You were pretty sure you had read through all of Dale’s books but it seemed you had missed that one. It seemed like a good way to pass the time.

“Want me to read it to you?”

“I can read it myself.” Daryl snapped.

“I know.” You rolled your eyes and nudged his leg with your foot. “I just thought it could be fun. But whatever.”

Daryl glanced at you for a split of a second, fidgeting with the stick he had been throwing to Cole, before lying down on his sleeping bag.

“Okay…read it if you want…” He said quietly. You opened the book and started reading it aloud.

You didn’t stop until it was time for dinner, almost having gone through the whole book.

“We’ll finish it tomorrow, alright?”

Next morning you were all having breakfast outside your tents, Daryl included. He looked so much better than a couple of days ago, though you knew his wound was still bothering him. Breakfast was delicious, a scramble made by Carol with fresh eggs, and you tried to enjoy it despite the tense and silent atmosphere around you. Whatever was going in on in the group, you didn’t really feel like getting involved, you just wanted to stay focused on Sophia’s search.

“Guys…” You hadn’t finished your scramble when Glenn began to speak, looking nervous. “So…there are walkers in the barn.”

You couldn’t believe it until you saw it, but it was true, you could see a group of walkers locked inside the barn and you couldn’t figure out why in the world would Hershel keep them there, and you had the feeling that asking him wouldn’t end up good. Apparently, according to Dale who somehow knew it, Hershel thought those walkers were his sick family and friends and therefore he wouldn’t kill them. You already had told Maggie about the CDC and Rick had done the same to Hershel, waiting for a cure was delusional, yet it didn’t seem like it would change the Greene’s mind.

A fight broke between Shane and Rick, since one wanted to clear the barn while Rick thought that would only make Hershel kick you out of the farm. You agreed with Rick, you were already on thin ice with Hershel, but living next to a barn full of walkers didn’t sound like the safest thing.

You could leave the farm, but you hated the idea of going back to the road without a destination, probably only to find that Fort Benning and everything else were gone forever, you couldn’t be sure you would find another heaven like that farm. Besides, you couldn’t leave without Sophia.

Turned out it seemed Shane could, as he thought there was no way you would find Sophia by now, much less alive. You knew how many days had passed, you knew how dangerous the world was, and if you had been less enraged at Shane for saying something like that in front of Carol and seeing tears coming to her eyes, you might have thought he had a point.

“Shut your mouth!” You snapped at Shane.

“I’m close to finding this girl. I just found her damn doll two days ago!” Daryl came from behind you to get on Shane’s face.

“You found her doll, Daryl. That’s what you did. You found a doll.” Shane snapped back. “I’m just saying what needs to be said. You get a good lead, it’s in the first 48 hours.”

Both men were glaring at each other and you were sure a fight was going to break between them so you stepped between them to try and stop them even though you wanted to punch Shane yourself, you didn’t want Daryl getting hurt and worsening his injuries, and if those two started fighting probably the situation would escalate too much. Rick came to stand at your side, trying to calm them down too.

“Let me tell you something else, man. If she was alive out there and saw you coming all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction.”

Daryl tried to throw himself at Shane at that but the others rushed to try and pull both men apart. You couldn’t believe Shane would say something like that after all Daryl had done trying to find Sophia. You saw red, anger rising inside you, and you went for Shane, pushing him as hard as you could.

“Y/N!” Lori, who had been dragging Shane away from Daryl, looked at you wide-eyed but you didn’t even hear her.

“What the hell did you just say?!” You yelled at Shane, pushing him again. He was looking at you seeming too surprised to do anything. “You haven’t done shit to try and find Sophia, Daryl’s been there every day and organizing everything, so shut your mouth or I’ll make you shut it!”

“Why don’t we all calm down?” Andrea dragged you away from Shane and you didn’t resist, you could hear the walkers banging the doors of the barn, excited by the commotion going outside.

The discussion kept going about what to do, Dale seemed sure Hershel would never let you clear the barn, but Rick told everybody he would talk to Hershel. It wasn’t like you could do much else, if you cleared those walkers you would not only be kicked out of the farm but also couldn’t keep looking for Sophia from a safe place.

You saw Daryl storming away and you followed him. “Hey, hey wait.” Daryl didn’t stop, heading to his tent, and you tried to keep his pace. “Shane was talking bullshit.”

“Leave me alone, Y/N.” Daryl snapped and you tried not to take it to heart, knowing he was upset. Maybe he needed to be alone and so you stopped following him.

There were people on watch on the barn while Rick tried to sort things out with Hershel. Shane was one of them and you didn’t feel like facing him again so you walked away. You looked for Maggie, wanting to confront her about the barn. You tried to think about what to say so your temper wouldn’t get the best of you and you ended up lashing at her instead of just trying to have an actual talk.

“Maggie, hey, hum…let’s talk.” You maybe sounded more demanding than you had intended, but you didn’t think it was a bad start, you weren’t snapping or anything.

“You all know about the barn.” Maggie rolled her eyes before glaring at you. “I knew that idiot couldn’t have his mouth shut!”

“What did you expect him to do, we sleep there! We could be walkers dinner at any moment!” Your resolution to try to stay calm was soon gone. “How insane is to keep walkers in the barn?!”

“You know nothing!” Maggie snapped.

“No, you know nothing!” You snapped back. “You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen! I told you about the CDC already, your father is delusional thinking they’re sick people waiting for a cure…there’s no cure, there’s nothing, they’re dead!”

“You don’t understand it!” By know you knew Maggie’s temper was usually at par with yours, she’d stood her ground in your previous arguments, so you were shocked to notice her eyes watering. “Those you call monsters are my family!”

“They are people no more, they are dead…think about it and I know you’ll see it.” Your voice had softened, you didn’t have the heart to yell at her anymore. “It’s dangerous. We all have lost people…they’re gone, those are just bodies. And they aren’t coming back.”

Maggie said nothing, just shook her head and you didn’t see a point on keep pushing it. You could just hope Rick could make Hershel understand it, but you weren’t hopeful at all.

“Hey…Glenn did what he did to protect us, but he’s all head over heels with you.” You said softly. “Don’t go hard on him.”

“We’ll see about that…”

You were throwing sticks at Cole, not knowing what to do with yourself, when you saw Carol approaching you. She seemed upset and like she had been crying so you rushed to her, your head full of the worst scenarios about Sophia.

“What’s wrong?!”

“It’s Daryl…” Carol said and you blinked in surprise at that. “I found him on the stables, trying to get a horse ready to go looking for Sophia, but you know he’s not good enough, he’s still hurt.” You shook your head at his stubbornness. “And I’m grateful he’s looking but he already got hurt, I didn’t want him getting worse…he didn’t like it when I told him…”

You could imagine and you reached out to take Carol’s hand. “Don’t be upset, he’s an idiot sometimes.”

“I know.” Carol gave you a sad smile. “But he’s a good man and I don’t want him hurting himself…can you check on him so he doesn’t try to go again? Maybe you’ll have better luck than me.”

You let out a sigh. Babysitting Daryl when he was upset and angered didn’t sound like the best plan, but you were concerned Carol was right and Daryl might try again to go looking for Sophia when he was still recovering.

“Alright…maybe my dog will have better luck than I.”

You found Daryl inside his tent, fidgeting with an arrow, stabbing it in an out of one of the tent’s nets…it didn’t seem he was in the best mood, and he glared at you when he noticed you approaching but you kept going anyway, crouching down and getting inside the tent.

“Get out!” Daryl didn’t lose time to snap at you.

“Tell me that at least the horse you were trying to take wasn’t the one who threw you.” You tried to stay unfazed by his anger. “I mean, I’m not sure if you’d be sensible like that considering you just tried to leave, alone, riding a horse while still having stitches on your side, you know.”

“Leave me alone.” He growled.

“Okay. But if you try to do something like that again I’m not letting you.”

“I don’t need your permission or nothing, girl, you ain’t gonna babysit me, now leave me the hell alone!” Daryl threw away the arrow he had been playing with, angry, and Cole barked excitedly and ran to pick up the arrow as if he thought Daryl was playing with him. You rolled your eyes, maybe those two got along so well because they were idiots sometimes.

“You worried Carol, Daryl, she’s afraid you’ll hurt yourself…”

“I ain’t hurting myself! That bitch should be worrying about her damn daughter and not about me!”

“What the hell did you just call her?!” Now you were angry. “Daryl Dixon you might be my friend but if I ever hear you calling another woman that, I’m gonna smack you in the head so hard it’ll be worse than when Andrea shoot you.”

That seemed to silence Daryl, if only because he was surprised at your outburst. He averted his eyes from you and began fidgeting with the arrow that Cole had brought back, slightly chewed.

“Don’t know why she’d care anyway…” He mumbled.

“Because you’ve been looking for her little girl non-stop, giving her hope...because you’re a good man, Daryl, even though sometimes you’re a prick. So yes, she cares for you and doesn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I wasn’t gonna hurt myself,” Daryl grumbled again and you didn’t bother to reply, let him have that. “Carol said we don’t know if we’re gonna find Sophia…she gave up…”

“She didn’t, it’s just…” You let out a sigh and flopped down to sat down on the floor of the tent. “I guess she’s trying to be ready in case the worse might happen or in case we have to leave…”

“She doesn’t think I can find her.”

“It’s not that.” You nudged his foot with yours gently. “If-when we find Sophia, it’ll be thanks to you.”

“Not if I’m here sitting on my ass doing nothing.” He sounded angry again. “I have to go looking for her, none else is gonna do it, not now with the barn and all.”

“Yell all you want but I’m not letting you go, you’re recovering.” Daryl seemed about to snap but you kept talking before he could. “I’ll go, okay? Right now, I’ll go looking for Sophia.”

Daryl seemed to think it for a moment and then he nodded reluctantly. “Are you taking Maggie with you?”

“Well…I’m not sure if she’s angry at me or not…” You hadn’t talked to her again. “Besides, she left with Glenn on a run. I’ll go by myself.”

“You shouldn’t go alone.” Daryl surprised you, you had thought he’d be rushing you to leave.

“Don’t think none is about to join me…” You shrugged, Daryl was right, everyone seemed too busy right now.

“I would.”

“You’re recovering.” You said again, making Daryl roll his eyes.

“You won’t go alone.”

“Okay…what if I try and get some of the others to help me with the search?” Only a couple of people were watching the barn, the others should be free to join the search and you planned to make them feel as guilty as possible if they didn’t volunteer.

“Alright…But if they don’t then I’m going with you.”

“We’ll see about that…” Daryl seemed mostly okay but you could see some blood on his shirt from when he had hurt himself trying to saddle the horse, he still should take it easy. “And no horses this time.”

Daryl said nothing to that, just shrugged and kept fidgeting with the arrow. You reached out to pull up his shirt, wanting to check on his wound, and Daryl flinched away from your hand, wincing as he did so.

“Sorry.” You rushed to apologize, pulling your hand off him. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.” He grumbled, though she frowned as he looked at the bloodstains as if noticing it for the first time.

“You might have popped a stitch…can I check it?” You reached out again but didn’t touch him until Daryl nodded. You lifted his shirt and carefully removed the soiled bandage to reveal his wound. It had bled a bit but it didn’t look bad. “I don’t know…maybe Hershel should check it…”

“No.”

“Alright, let me clean it a bit then.” You had ‘borrowed’ some disinfectant, gauzes, antibiotics and things like that from Hershel’s cabinet, in case he sent you all away. You felt bad about it, but it’d be worse if you were on the road again and didn’t have medical supplies.

Daryl raised an eyebrow at you when he saw you taking out of your bag some gauze and disinfectant, as if guessing where you had taken it from, but he said nothing. Pouring some disinfectant into the gauze, you cleaned the wound and applied a fresh bandage.

“There you go.” You finished cleaning and rebandaging him. You bit your lip thinking about how the arrow had gone through his side, impaling him. It was a wonder he was not only alive and recovering so fast but also how he had managed to go back to the farm all by himself. You didn’t want to think how close he had been of dying.

“Thanks,” Daryl said without looking at you and you both stayed silent for a while, Daryl back at fidgeting with the arrow and you busying yourself stroking Cole’s fur. Maybe it was time for you to leave, but you kept catching Daryl giving you side glances and you waited for him to speak.

“When you went for Shane…” He finally began, eyes trained on the ground. “I hadn’t seen you that angry since you threatened that doc with an ax.”

“Yeah, well, Shane was spitting a lot of bullshit.” You were still angry at him. “I can’t believe he’d say that about Sophia in front of Carol. I can’t believe he said those stupid things about you, either!” You felt like punching him even though you knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against Shane. “You know it was bullshit, right?” Daryl just shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “Well, it was.”

“Thanks.” He whispered, eyes still down.

“You’re my friend I’m going to stand for you, and Shane was a prick. I’m not letting anyone talk bullshit about you.” You stated, unashamed, you didn’t know when you had become so protective over Daryl but there it was. “You’re a prick sometimes too but I would never smack you, no matter what I said before, I won’t. But I’ll smack Shane if he ever says something like that again.”

His eyes snapped up to look at you at that, seeming surprised, and then his lips curled up into a lopsided, small smile. He should smile more often. He looked down quickly, blushing. “Thanks.”

“That thing he said about you wearing geek ears…was that true?” You wanted to have him talking about something else and you were genuinely curious. “Why?” You asked when he nodded.

“Thought it might mistake the smell to other geeks.”

“That’s so smart…you’re so smart.” You were always amazed at how resourceful and quick at thinking Daryl was.

“Stop.” He grumbled, blushing even more.

“But it’s true!”

“I don’t know if it works or not.”

“Smart anyway.”

Silence fell between you both until Daryl broke it again. “Shane’s lying about Otis, I think he left the man as bait or something like that.”

“Why?” You didn’t doubt Daryl but that sounded too bad even for Shane.

“His story doesn’t add up.” Daryl didn’t elaborate more and you didn’t ask. You knew how observant and smart he was, so if he was suspicious about Shane then probably he had a reason and wasn’t mistaken. The idea was too horrible to think about it, though. “I ain’t saying anything, the Greene’s would kick us out of here if they knew.”

“Hershel might kick us out anyway.” You let out a sigh. “Rick’s talking with him…I’m gonna see if he’s done to ask him to come looking for Sophia with me.”

“Alright.”

“You gotta apologize to Carol, okay?” You reminded him and Daryl shrugged.

“How?” He murmured sheepishly, sounding so childish it was adorable.

“Try saying sorry.” You retorted and Daryl rolled his eyes.

You kneeled up but before you crawled out of the tent you leaned over to kiss Daryl’s cheek, you just felt like it. Daryl looked at you with wide, surprised eyes before frowning.

“What was that for?”

You just shrugged, giving him a small smile before leaving his tent.

Rick found you before you found him, walking towards you with a map on his hand. “It’s time we go back to the search, come with me?”

“I was just looking for you to ask you the same…did you talk with Hershel? Is he kicking us out?”

“We’re not leaving.” Rick didn’t hold your gaze and it wasn’t exactly the answer to what you were asking, but for now, it’d have to be enough, he was already unfolding the map before you could say anything. “So what do you think, should we check this area?”

“Maybe…I could ask Daryl, he’ll know what’s the best plan.”

“Alright, you do that and I go see if someone else’s free to join us.” Rick patted your shoulder and headed away, and you went back to Daryl’s tent.

He was outside, pacing back and forth as he glanced nervously at the RV where you knew Carol was. You couldn’t help your small smile, he was so cute sometimes. “Just go and say sorry,” you said as you placed a hand on his arm. He flinched but relaxed when he saw it was you. “She’s your friend and cares about you, she’ll forgive you if you apologize.”

Daryl shrugged as if trying to show he didn’t care, but you knew better. You unfolded the map and pointed at the area Rick was telling you. “So Rick thinks we could check this area, we’re leaving in about an hour, what you think?”

“Yeah…” Daryl nodded. “We should check this other again too. I’ll go too.”

“Not happening.”

“I’m fine, I can walk so I can search for her.” Daryl rolled his eyes, seeming exasperated again. He was just so damn stubborn.

“Apologize to Carol and then we’ll see.”

You went looking for Rick but couldn’t find him anywhere. He couldn’t have just disappeared in a moment. You noticed Glenn and Maggie on the stairs of the porch, seeming to have made up, at least that was good.

“Have you seen Rick?” You asked when you approached them. “We were supposed to go looking for Sophia.”

“No, sorry.”

You let out a sigh and sat down to wait for him. Time passed and he still wasn’t showing up, and you didn’t know if you should be angry at him or worried. You noticed Daryl and Carol approaching, those two seeming to have made up too and you couldn’t help your smile.

“Weren’t we leaving?” Daryl asked, annoyed.

“Don’t know where Rick is.”

“Fine, we leave without him.” He scoffed.

Before any of you could say anything else, Shane approached you carrying a big bag full of guns which he began passing to everyone, saying how you needed to secure the place and deal with that barn before it was too late, ignoring Maggie and Lori asking him to stop. You wanted the farm to be safe, sure, but doing what Shane intended to do would just cause more trouble and Hershel would never forgive it.

Cole growled, nervous, and you grabbed him by his collar, trying to calm him.

“This is not a good idea.” You grabbed Daryl’s arm with your free hand when he took one of the rifles, you thought he might yank his arm free but he didn’t, turning to look at you. “Hershel will kick us out for sure.”

“What the hell is that?”

You all followed Shane’s gaze to find Hershel and Rick walking towards the barn and you couldn’t believe your eyes but they had a walker with them in some sort of lash, as if they were walking it to the barn…did Hershel collect them there? What was that? You hadn’t thought the man insane, just delusional, but this was too much.

Shane ran to them, yelling at them, you all running behind…and then the storm began. Shane was out of control, yelling and shooting at the walker, and before any of you could do anything he had opened the barn, walkers stumbling out.

“Y/N, don’t let the dog go to them!” Daryl warned you while he aimed the rifle and shoot, along with Shane, Andrea, Rick, T-Dog, even Glenn, murdering the Greene’s family in front of their eyes. It had to be done, you knew it, those weren’t people, they were monsters, but the Greene’s looked so broken you couldn’t look while the monsters dropped dead.

And when you thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. A last, little walker stumbled out of the barn.

Sophia.

...................................................

Aw...you know what’s coming :( Do you think Daryl’d keep himself away from the reader and the dog? Or would he look for comfort on them? We’ll see...

Anyway, thank you for reading! Please, if you have a moment drop me a comment and let me know your thoughts, I’d love to read it and talk to all of you, it keeps me inspired and going!

As always, English is not my first language so sorry if there are mistakes.

If you want to be tagged (or removed from the tags) let me know!

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pgoeltz · 4 years

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Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting* You are not crazy, my friends Julio Vincent Gambuto Julio Vincent Gambuto Follow Apr 10 · 9 min read

Gaslighting, if you don’t know the word, is defined as manipulation into doubting your own sanity; as in, Carl made Mary think she was crazy, even though she clearly caught him cheating. He gaslit her.

And what a perfect time for Best Buy and H&M and Wal-Mart to help me feel normal again. If I could just have the new iPhone in my hand, if I could rest my feet on a pillow of new Nikes, if I could drink a venti blonde vanilla latte or sip a Diet Coke, then this very dark feeling would go away. You think I’m kidding, that I’m being cute, that I’m denying the very obvious benefits of having a roaring economy. You’re right. Our way of life is not ruinous. The economy is not, at its core, evil. Brands and their products create millions of jobs. Like people — and most anything in life — there are brands that are responsible and ethical, and there are others that are not. They are all part of a system that keeps us living long and strong. We have lifted more humans out of poverty through the power of economics than any other civilization in history. Yes, without a doubt, Americanism is a force for good. It is not some villainous plot to wreak havoc and destroy the planet and all our souls along with it. I get it, and I agree. But its flaws have been laid bare for all to see. It doesn’t work for everyone. It’s responsible for great destruction. It is so unevenly distributed in its benefit that three men own more wealth than 150 million people. Its intentions have been perverted, and the protection it offers has disappeared. In fact, it’s been brought to its knees by one pangolin.

—

Note: The author and Medium have made minor tweaks since initial publication.

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longhornhudson · 4 years

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Luck O’ the Irish || Hudrose

Who: Finn Hudson and @longhornmarley

Where: UT Campus, Finn’s dorm room

When: March 17th, 2020

Notes: Not really wanting to go to a party after being stood up, they decide to host a pity party for themselves and shenanigans ensue... NSFW

Finn

Finn wasn't in a good mood. He had had plans to go to the beach with his girlfriend but for no reason, she'd canceled at the last second, leaving him with a packed suitcase but nowhere to go. The walk back to his dorm was long but he'd managed to find a few of his friends who had invited him to a party on Tuesday night, an invitation he had readily accepted. For now he just wanted to sleep the last few hours away. That Tuesday had started off great and he was already feeling a buzz from the pity party he'd thrown himself that day so the idea of going to a party with girls and alcohol seemed like a great one. He grabbed some clothes from his suitcase and threw them on, not caring if they matched. He left his room and headed across campus towards his destination, his mouth already watering at the thought of vodka shots and jello shooters.

Marley

How ridiculous could Marley be? She should've known Declan would've cancelled on her. He always did it seemed lately. The two were gonna go on a trip for spring break and she was gonna see for once where this was going to go. She was tired of playing games and while she enjoyed the extra money coming in, she wanted something real. And now it was like a nail closing the coffin. Maybe it truly was time to end things with him. In a weak moment, she had called her ex, Jake, and the two talked. He was one who knew her pretty well and maybe he could have some insight. Though, she should never actually listen what the boy said about anything. After making plans for him to come down in the next few days so they could 'properly talk', she hung up and headed out to go get ice cream. She was gonna need it. As she walked through campus, she saw someone familiar heading towards her and she put on a fake smile. "Finn, hey." She said as they got closer to each other.

Finn

The jock was off in his own world, hands holding imaginary sticks as they pounded away at invisible drums, the song in his head keeping him from noticing all the stares from people as he walked past. He didn't care, the beat was sick and he was in the zone. So much so that he almost missed it when a voice broke through his solo. He opened his eyes even though he didn't need to bother, he had grown accustomed to hearing it lately that it was already familiar. "Marley, hey. What are you doing here? I thought you were heading out of town?" He asked, stepping in line next to her. "I'm on my way to a party. You wanna come?"

Marley

She watched him as he seemed to be jamming out to the music. If she was honest, she found it really cute, but that shouldn't have been something to focus on right now. She wasn't in the right place to be thinking that. Or was she? She was honestly confused by it all. "Oh, um, I was. But things changed. Got cancelled." She sighed and rubbed her neck. "A party? Sure. I thought you were leaving too." She said and looked into his eyes.

Finn

Seeing Marley and talking to her was becoming a favorite of his. She was funny and smart and she didn't treat him like an idiot, which was always something to appreciate. "Oh. Well that sucks. My plans changed too. Apparently she is staying home until this virus passes so looks like I'll be spending Spring Break at school." He shook his head, shoulders shrugging as the absurdity of his situation. "You know what? Let's go. A party surrounded by happy couples and horny frat guys isn't where you or I need to be right now. Let's go grab some bottles from our roommates and have a pity party in my room."

Marley

Her smile went down. She felt bad that his plans got cancelled too, but maybe in some way they were supposed to spend this night together? Or was she just trying to find a plus side to the sadness? "I'm sorry. People seem to be going crazy about that, don't they?" She said and took a breath. "Just you and I does sound better than being around everyone. I don't want to pretend to be happy." She thought for a moment. "I don't think there are any bottles in my room so I may not be helpful. However I have money and can give it to you to buy some?"

Finn

If Finn believed in fate, he would think she was playing a game with his life and his emotions. Instead of spending time with who the universe expected him to, he saw more of his tutor than anyone else and somehow Finn was okay with that. He couldn't explain why exactly but if he was having to spend Spring Break away from home, at least he had Marley for company. "I don't see why they need so much toilet paper!" He laughed, looking over at her and grinning. "People are crazy." He nodded, spinning around on his heels a bit to quickly, his head spinning momentarily. "We can head up to the store yeah. But put your money away, this was my idea so I'm buying. If we run out, you can buy next round." After he had regained control, the two of them headed off towards the liquor store.

Marley

Marley couldn't help but laugh at his exclamation and nodded. "I know. I think my roommate may be doing that. I don't know if I can handle being at my place all break." She laughed softly as she looked over at him. She watched him and stopped as he talked. "If you're sure. Maybe we can order food and I can pay for that." She suggested as they walked a different way now that they were going to the store.

Finn

"I can kind of see it because on the one hand if you're isolating yourself inside, you're going go need toilet paper but they're acting like they're going to have explosive diarrhea all day and that's just stupid." He said, shaking his head. It was something he had been keeping an eye on but he wasn't going to let it dictate his break. "We can definitely get some food. What're you thinking? Pizza? Tacos?" Conversing with her was easy and before they knew it, they heard arrived at the store. Gathering up all the supplies they'd need, and letting Marley buy their dinner, they left the store, falling right back into that casual conversation as if not time had passed. "So music huh? What made you decide on that?"

Marley

"Yeah, but it's like people forget showers and wash rags don't exist. You can easily wash yourself or those. I wonder if that's what people did while Rick was asleep on The Walking Dead." She laughed softly again. She shrugged. "Either. Both. I'm good with anything. Though, Taco Bell sounds good always." She smirked at him as she started looking at apps on her phone to get them food. She liked being with him. It was already more comfortable than most people she spent so little time with. "I like to sing and I don't know. I want to try to make it in the industry, but I don't know if I will. I don't think I'm that good."

Finn

"Okay you just became like ten times cooler by knowing who Rick Grimes is." He teased, a playful laugh falling from his lips. The best thing about meeting new people was getting to know them. Sometimes it felt forced, like an obligation you didn't want, but with Marley, everything was easy. It was something Finn wasn't used too but he was thankful regardless. "I'm behind a season or two so I know Rick left the show but I don't know what happened." As he waited for her to order food, he pondered her words and couldn't help the small chuckle that surfaced again. "If you didn't think you were good, you wouldn't have picked it for a major. I picked mine because it seemed the easiest option but if you love something, nothing will stop you."

Marley

She couldn't help but grin and shrug. "I read the comics and watched most of the show." Marley said proudly. "I haven't watched since the whole thing happened with Carl. I barely know what's happening right now." She ordered their food and put in Finn's address so maybe it would be there by the time they got there. "I guess so. The whole thing makes me nervous. I want to show off my talent, but I feel like I'm barely able to here. What is that going to mean when I'm out in the world? Will anyone listen to me?" She sighed before shaking her head. "Sorry. That kind of got too deep."

Finn

"A girl who likes zombie shows and comic books? Are you even real?!" He shouted, pinching her skin playfully as they walked side by side. "I think we should finish the show together. Or at least until the current season. Wow, trying to get Heather to watch anything with me is like pulling teeth. It's all Housewives and the Kardashians." He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I got blackmailed into joining my high school Glee club after the teacher heard me singing in the shower.... that sounded strange, but the point is, I was good enough for them so I mean, if you need a partner for karaoke night or just as a backup singer to help you shine, I'm volunteering to help. It's the least i can do."

Marley

She laughed as he pinched her skin. "Yes. I even like superhero stuff." She smirked at him. "I'm pretty chill, I think. I don't see why some girls are into that. It's not my thing. I'd definitely like to catch up on the show with you." Marley smiled and looked over into his eyes. "Really? You would like to sing with me?" She was actually surprised. She didn't get many solos or duets in the glee club now, but definitely wanted to always prove how good she was. "You are too sweet. Are you real?" She asked and pinched him back.

Finn

"You're like my version of the perfect girl." He laughed, shaking his head. "I mean you like superheroes and comic books. You're not afraid to eat tacos... WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?!" The jock shouted, garnering a few looks from the people scattered around them but Finn didn't care about them. For the first time in his young life, public opinion meant nothing to him. "We have to make this a weekly thing. We pick a day that works best for us both and we watch as many as we can. Deal?" He asked, holding out his hand for her to shake. "Of course I will. I'm sure you're going to outshine me and in this case, that's what I want you to do." His nose crinkled as they finally seemed to make it back to the dorms. "Owww! My throwing arm!" He feigned injury and laughed, ushering her inside before anyone noticed.

Marley

A blush filled Marley's cheeks as he said that. No one had ever referred to that before. "Shh." She said as she looked around and blushed more. "I'm sure other girls are like me. I'm nothing special." She put herself down. "That would be nice. It would be a nice break from everything and we can get caught up fast." She smiled at him as she walked inside his dorms. "Oh, please. I could barely hurt a fly let alone you."

Finn

Finn couldn't help but raise a brow at her obvious cut down and he shook his head. "Hey none of that. You're awesome. I haven't known you long but you're pretty great. I'm sure there are other girls out there that are like you but I'm not talking to them, am I? Don't cut yourself down. I'm just telling you what I've observed so far. Take the compliment. Please." He smirked, nodding his head when she agreed to his demands. "Its a date. Well, not like a date date but you know, a date. Friendly date among... friends..." He trailed off, rolling his eyes at himself before closing the door behind himself once they were inside. "You're right. I was teasing. I mean, did you even pinch me? I couldn't feel anything."

Marley

She blushed and shook her head. "You're sweet, but I'm really not. And I'm okay with that. I like being a wallflower." She said and looked into his eyes. "But thank you. I appreciate you saying all that." She smiled and looked at him. "A friendly date is perfect. It'll be nice to have something to look forward to." Marley laughed and shook her head. "Shut up." She playfully pushed him.

Finn

"Can I be honest with you Marley? I've never been a fan of all the popularity that I've received. I find it confusing and chaotic. I mean, one mistake and you're getting slushies to the face but then you do something else and you're back on top. There were many times when I considered giving it all up because I just want to be normal, you know? I don't want to be known as 'the jock' or be defined by the girls I date. I've always been envious of the wallflowers because they're kind of who I feel more connected too and who deep down, I'd like to be." He confessed with a shrug. "So I look forward to learning from you on how to be a wallflower." He teased, holding the door open for her as they walked inside and up to his room.

Marley

She looked into his eyes as he said that. It was nice to hear someone didn't care about all that stuff. Maybe they were soulmates or something. But she couldn't think like that. Not right now. He had someone and she kind of did too. This was just a friend thing. "Thanks, Finn. I really appreciate all that. I've struggled with things like that for a long time and it's nice to know you don't follow all that." She told him as they went up to his room. "I guess we beat the food." She commented and smiled at him.

Finn

"Of course, Marls. What are friends for?" He said, his nose crinkling as he held the door to his dorm room open. He heard the buzzer, a sound indicating that someone needed to be let in and he laughed. "Speaking of food. Please make yourself comfortable and I'll be right back." He knew she had already paid for the food but Finn knew the building better than she did and he didn't want her to get lost. After meeting the delivery man outside, and paying the fee and tip, he carried all the food back upstairs, knocking on the door in case Marley was in the bathroom or something. "I'm coming in! I hope you're decent." The jock joked, before entering and laying the food on the table. "How much did you order?! There's enough for four people here."

Marley

She smiled happily at him as she walked inside his room and looked around. It was nice and seemed very much like Finn. She was going to say something just was the buzzer rang and she nodded. "Okay. I'll be here." She smiled and watched him go before she kicked off her shoes and sat down. She couldn't believe this was how her break was going so far, but she liked it already. Maybe it was good she stayed in Texas. She looked up as she heard the knock on the door and laughed as he entered. "Do you think I just get naked or something in people's homes?" She asked jokingly before shrugging. "I covered the basics. Besides, if we're drinking, we'll be hungry at random times and there will still be food."

Finn

"I didn't mean it like that!" He yelled, shouting over the sound of the music coming from next door. "I just meant like if you were in the bathroom or something. I don't know why I said decent, it was the first word that popped into my head." He grinned, putting the food on the counter. He nodded his head in her direction and laughed. "That's very smart. I never would have thought of that and then I would have been arrested by campus police for trying to break into the 7-11 because I got hungry." Pulling each item out of the bag, he opened it to identify what it was before grabbing a couple of forks for the two of them. "Do you want a beer or some wine? I don't have much else seeing as how I wasn't planning on entertaining tonight but you're welcome to whatever is in there."

Marley

She laughed as he shouted and nodded. "Sure you didn't." She teased him as she watched him get some food for them. "I would've tried to stop you from doing that. Especially when a lot of places are open all night." She laughed softly and just kept watching him. "Anything is fine with me. What did you get at the liquor store?" She asked as she sat crisscross applesauce on his couch.

Finn

"Well your head might explode if I had said that I did mean it so..." He smirked, shrugging his shoulders as he walked past her and into the kitchen. Hearing that she would have stopped him made him laugh and he nodded. "I'm sure you would have. You might be tiny but I've no doubt you're strong." The junior laughed, coming back into the living area holding two bottles. "I got two cases of beer and a bottle of wine. Its supposed to be for the barbecue but I'm not sure if that's still going to happen with the flu going around."

Marley

"So you did?" She smirked and raised her eyebrow as she looked at him. "We don't even know each other that well." She teased and watched him closely. "I can be." Marley flexed her arm muscles she barely had. "See." She grinned and laughed. "Well, I can give you money to buy back whatever we drink." She told him and smiled. "I'm good with anything to start with."

Finn

"This time, no. It was a slip of the tongue. Scouts honor." He held up two fingers before smiling at her. "I was never a scout but I promise I wouldn't lie. I had no expectations other than having a fun night with my friend." He explained, watching when she flexed. "Nice. If you ever want to make those bigger, join me in the gym and we can get you on some weights." When she insisted she pay him, he shook his head. "No you won't. These idiots don't need this much alcohol anyway. It'll be fine."

Marley

"Oh, so how can I take that as scout's honor if you were never one?" She teased him. "That's all I have as expectations as well." She laughed as she flexed and put her arms down. "I go to the gym quite often, actually, but we can do something. I'm always down for that." She gave him a look. "If you're sure, but the offer is there. I don't want you to pay for everything."

Finn

They had decided to watch something on Netflix but they had been drinking so much that he barely remembered the title of it or anything that happened in it. They had ended up mostly laughing and playing drinking games until they couldn't anymore. Now, they were laying on the floor of his room, the air conditioning on full blast as they tried to calm themselves down. "I haven't laughed that hard in so long. My sides are killing me, Marls. Who knew you were this funny?"

Marley

Marley never got this drunk. Hell, she never had this much to drink. A buzz here and there in high school, but never something like this. But she liked having this moment with Finn. She liked laughing and trying to breath as they laid in his room with tears streaming down her eyes from laughing too hard. She took a deep breath as he spoke and she poked him. "Hey, I am always this funny. People just don't get my humor." She smirked at him and looked into his eyes. "I haven't clicked like this with someone in a long time."

Finn

"Its because it goes over their head. Your jokes are too smart for the average bear." He laughed, shifting his body so he was facing her. "You haven't? I want to be all like 'yay!' because that means you like me but also, I feel bad that you haven't met anyone as awesome as me before." The jock teased her again before laughing. "But yes, I feel the same. You're not like the other nerds. You're crazy hot but also really smart."

Marley

"Good thing you're more than average." She smiled at him and watched as he moved so they were now just staring at each other. "I like having you. You're definitely worth the wait of meeting someone awesome." She assured him before laughing too only because his was so infectious. "Thank you? I guess I kinda have a sexy librarian thing going on." She said and let her hair down to do some weird sexy move with her hair that made her laugh more.

Finn

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me!" He shouted, nodding his head before resting his chin on his arms. "Well you can have me whenever you want, Marls. I'm not in demand right now so we can spend as much time together as we want." He added, reaching out to grab her hand. "Just call me Captain Awesome." His head nodded and he smiled at her at her next words, wiggling his eyebrows. "Oh definitely. I might have to start making it a part of my routine. St...stopping by the library I mean." He was distracted as he watched her let her hair down, taking the opportunity to scan her body, suddenly wondering what she looked like naked.

Marley

"That can't be true. You're an amazing guy and I'm sure you get loads of compliments." She smirked at him. "You're not in demand? So you can spend all your time with a little old nerd like me?" She teased and her heart jumped as he took her hand. She looked down at their hands and rubbed his skin with her thumb before back at him. "Yeah? I'd like to see more of you. There. More of you at the library." She said and stared at him. "I'm sure the librarian thing is better without my glasses." She said softly while looking at his lips.

Finn

"Just because you think I'm amazing doesn't mean everyone else does." He admitted with a shrug. "I've been called an asshole, an idiot, retarded and it really hurts. So I don't know, hearing nice things that don't have to do with my football skills is really nice." He hadn't meant to get sentimental but he needed her to know just how much her words meant to him. "Yep. All the time in the world." He smirked, nodding his head. "So lets make it a habit then. I'll have to get you to give me a tour though because I don't know where anything is." Her statement found him shaking his head as he leaned in closer to remove them. "I mean you're hot either way but the glasses definitely add to the fantasy."

Marley

"Well, they should. Because it's true." She said and stared at him. Her heart ached at him being called these things and she reached out to touch his cheek. "You're none of those things. Anyone who says you are obviously has no idea who you are." She told him and smiled. "Good to know there's hope for me." She laughed before nodding. "A tour you shall have. I can even make a map." She teased and let him take her glasses off. She could see mostly fine. She usually wore them to read but got used to wearing them more than contacts. "You really think I'm hot?"

Finn

Finn just smiled at her words, leaning into her touch as he felt the mood of the room shift. Or it had for him. Instead of laughing and having a good time, and despite the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream, he was fighting the urges that he was thinking about in his head. "I'm yours whenever you want me, Marley." He whispered, eyes drifting down to her lips. He propped himself up on an elbow and scooted closer to her, their noses inches apart. He really shouldn't be doing this but he wanted too. "100 percent." He complimented, bringing his hand up to her face, thumb grazing her lip for a second before he took a chance and closed the distance between them.

Marley

Everything changed quickly. Neither were laughing but now were very focused on each other. She watched him closely and her heart started racing as he said he was hers. Part of her knew what he meant, but that didnt stop the feelings arising. No one had ever said that to her. "And if I always want you?" She asked him softly. She moved closer as he did and leaned into his touch. As their lips met, she closed her eyed and pressed a passionate kiss into his lips.

Finn

"Then I'll be there." If he were sober, he would never have said these words to her, not that he didn't think she was attractive because she was but because he didn't want to give her false hope. With his on again off again relationship, he couldn't really get involved with anyone seriously, even if that is exactly what he wanted. But luckily for him, he wasn't sober and saying these things meant everything in the moment. When she returned the kiss, he shifted himself on top of her, breaking the kiss briefly to adjust themselves more comfortably on the floor. Grazing his thumb across her cheek, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before kissing her once again, this time rougher and more wanton.

Marley

The words made her heart flutter. She knew if the alcohol wasn’t flowing through her system, she never would've done this. She didn't do these things with Declan and she barely did them with her ex. Sure, she lost her virginity to him but that was different. They were together longer and she thought she was in love. She barely knew Finn and while she was definitely starting to like him, she wasn't one to do this. She sighed as their lips parted and she looked up at him as he moved to be on top of her. Looked up at him and smiled as he moved her hair before she met his kiss again and released a moan into it.

Finn

The moan that slipped out of her mouth sent a shiver up his spine and he shuddered, thankful that the kiss was hiding the flush of his cheeks. He had never been confident in his skills, had never really been with anyone since high school, and she had made him feel like shit when it was over, so his confidence in his skills was almost nonexistent. He was suddenly very glad that they were both drunk so that she wouldn't be disappointed in him when it was over. His fingers hesitantly trailed down to the hem of her shirt, lifting it up as he grazed the soft skin on her belly.

Marley

The feeling of his hand on her bare skin made chills go through her body. Her heart was beating like crazy and she could only think of wanting more from him. Wanting only him. She kissed him deeper as a hand tangled into his hair while the other ran along the sides of his shirt.

Finn

When he felt her fingers in his hair, he shivered, his body reacting exactly as it had way back in high school. It was a turn on for him and he couldn't help but moan into the kiss, fingers working her shirt higher and higher... he took a chance and sat her up before pulling her shirt over her head, tossing it to the side before removing his own. He allowed himself a moment to take in her form, his breath hitching slightly. "You're beautiful babe." He whispered, leaning in to kiss her again before guiding her back down to the floor.

Marley

Hearing him moan into the kiss turned her on more than it probably should've. She felt his fingers going up her skin and when he lifted her up, she helped him remove her shirt before watching him do his own. She looked over his chest and stomach and smiled up at him as he said she was beautiful. "And you're handsome." She said and kissed him back as she moved back to the floor. Her hands trailed down the skin of his bare back and back up softly.

Finn

Her nails teasing his skin caused goosebumps to pop up over his skin, the sensations quickly overwhelming his body. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this and it all felt so good. Breaking the kiss to her lips, they trailed along her jawline ad down to her neck where he nipped and sucked the soft flesh. His hands caressed her body and down around to her waist where he fumbled for the button of her jeans, finally working it open, the zipper falling open with little pressure. It wasn't fluid, or perfect, but he managed to push them down and away from her body.

Marley

She sighed happily as he started kissing her jawline and making little marks on her skin. She moaned happily and lifted her hips to help him to take off her pants. Her own hands moved to his front and started to undo the button and zipper there. She was nervous, yes, but she was wanting him more by the second.

Finn

Once they were both down to their undergarments, he realized just how much he couldn't hide his body. He had always had body issues and now knowing that Marley could see it, he would have been self conscious had they not been too drunk to care. His lips left her neck after leaving several marks there, a sign of their activity that would be hard for her to disguise. He placed tentative marks along her collarbone, nipping at the flesh extended above the cup of her bra. Nimble fingers easily worked the clasps to free it from her body, his tongue swirling around the nipple briefly while he worked her panties down and away from her body.

Marley

He was amazing. She was definitely enjoying his body and the way he was kissing her and leaving marks all over. A moan left her lips as he swirled his tongue around her nipple and lifted her hips again to let him take off her panties. The chill from the air conditioner hit her and she suddenly felt very exposed. She was never like this in front of anyone and she was unsure if he would like her body. She bit her lip as she looked up at him and her hands move to take off his boxers so they would both equally naked.

Finn

Being naked in front of Marley, the cold air hitting his bare ass, felt both good and weird. This was a huge step for the two of them and they were both drunk and probably wouldn't remember it in the morning, which was something Finn didn't want to think about. He left feather light kisses down her body, first her breasts and then her belly, tongue swirling around her navel. His dick was hard and he knew he was ready. Scaling back up her body, he pressed his lips to her once more before lining up at her entrance, eyes locking with her. "Are... are you sure?"

Marley

The kisses down her body was sending her through the roof. She was more turned on than she had been ever and she looked up at him as he lined himself up. Marley was more than ready for this. She may regret how this happened, but she wouldn't have regretted being with Finn. "Yes. Please." She begged as she spread her legs wider for him.

Finn

Seeing her mannerisms and hearing that she wanted it, he nodded, kissing her again before grabbing his dick and guiding himself inside her wet folds. It felt so good and he whined into her mouth. She was tight but still allowed him room to fit comfortably inside, almost like two puzzle pieces. He sat inside her for a brief second to give her time to adjust to him before slowly moving his hips.

Marley

She took a deep breath as he entered inside her and it out into the kiss. She touched his cheek and looked up into his eyes before smiling and nodding at him for him to move. The slowness was nice. It was like he fit perfectly inside her and hit all the right places. "Finn..." A moan left her lips and she moved her body towards his.

Finn

He smiled down at her, touching her cheek softly before leaning in to kiss her, his hips starting to pick up speed. Now that he was inside her, and he could feel her getting wetter and more into the act, his body reacted of its own accord, his alcohol riddled brain telling him to speed up. But he didn't. He stayed at the steady pace he was at, hips burning already. His whispered name leaving her lips sent a chill straight up his back and down to his dick. He moaned, eyes slamming shut as he pushed further inside her.

Marley

She kissed him back only for a whimper to leave his lips as he sped up. Her eyes closed as he kept going and she panted with every move. With the sudden push deeper inside her, she let out a loud whine and her nails dug into his skin. Her legs locked around him tightly and she pushed herself against him for more.

Finn

Her nails digging into his skin caused him to whine but he kept going, knowing that it would be worth it in the end. Leaving marks on the other person was normal and to be honest, Finn liked it. It meant he was doing a good job. He was close, could feel the pressure inside, and he stopped kissing her, his blue eyes staring into hers. He sped up his hips, face contorting before he spoke. "Marley I'm close."

Marley

She held him tight as they kept moving together. She hadn't felt pleasure like this before and she really didn't want it to end. It felt perfect and she released little whines to let him know just how good this all was. She sighed as he stopped kissing her and looked up at him as moved faster now. "Okay. Just keep going. Please." She begged him; wanting to get to that point herself. She knew it was close, she could feel it, and she wanted to experience with him.

Finn

Finn wanted to hold on as long as he could, wanted them both to seek the kind of pleasure they'd both been missing so he pushed himself further, his lips kissing her hard while his hips burned and throbbed. He hadn't realized just how out of shape he was until now but he swallowed down the pain and kept going like she wanted, fingers ghosting over her skin and down between her legs while his lips broke the kiss and trailed down to her neck, nipping at the soft flesh before sucking on it.

Marley

She kissed him back and moaned into his mouth. It was growing harder to hold back any sounds and she started to make louder ones; especially when his lips went to her neck. A hand moved up to his hair and she grabbed it tight before she knew her release was coming. "Finn... now. Please. Now." She begged him as she felt the wave of pleasure take over her.

Finn

Her moans and whimpers for him sent another chill up his spine and the tightness in his belly to become unbearable. Holding her tighter, he continued biting her neck, his fingers playing with her clit as she panted quicker and begged for him. As soon as he felt her fingers grip his hair, he cried out her name before releasing deep inside her, his cum coating her walls.

Marley

The pleasure was just pulsing through her as he rubbed her clit. Her sounds were getting louder and louder and she gripped his hair and back with her fingers as he cried out her name. Her walls pulsed around him and she whimpered as her body started to slowly come down for her high while still feeling so much pleasure.

Finn

Finn continued to moan as Marley's orgasm coated his dick and he shuddered, licking his lips before leaning down to find hers. They rode out their orgasms together before collapsing against one another, their breathing heavy and their bodies spent. "Damn." He whispered, giggling softly before making eye contact with her. "Are you okay?"

Marley

This was all definitely crazy. She never expected to do something like this. Not with someone she hadn't known very long. However, it was amazing. She felt amazing. She looked at him as he spoke and she nodded. "Yeah. Yes. I'm.... I'm good." She smiled at him. "Are you? Was this?"

Finn

Finn hadn't known Marley long and yet the way they fit together, the way their bodies moved so in sync, it was like they'd been having sex forever. He just hoped that once the alcohol wore off completely, she wouldn't regret what happened. "This was great, you were amazing. I mean, it's crazy but a good crazy." He said, biting his lip as he pulled out of her, falling next to her on the rug.

Marley

She was relieved he said that. She thought it was good, but she didn't want to assume anything. She watched as he moved off her and took a deep breath as they laid their together. "Good. It was great. It really was." She told him.

Finn

He smiled, leaning over to kiss her again. It was short and brief but filled with hidden meaning. "It really was. I, uh, did you just want to spend the night here? It's late and we're still drunk.. I wouldn't feel right if you left." He asked, grabbing her hand to hold. "If I can move that is. My body feels broken."

Marley

She kissed him back and smiled softly at him. "You want me to stay?" She asked and rubbed his hand softly with a grin on her face. "Yeah. If you don't care. Sure." She looked deep into his eyes and laughed softly. "Broken in a good way, I hope." She moved and laid her head on his chest.

Finn

"Of course. It would make me a shitty person if I had sex with you and then made you walk home alone. My boys out there would make it a game and I'm not going to do that to you so yes, you can stay." He explained, his nose crinkling as she rolled over onto his chest. His fingers automatically ran through her hair as they tried to come down from the high. "Definitely in a good way. My legs are jelly. I'm so glad I don't have class or practice tomorrow because I'd have to call in sick."

Marley

She nodded as she listened to him. " Right. Better this way if I stay." She took a breath and relaxed into his body. She laughed softly and closed her eyes as she buried her head into him. She wasn't sure what to say, but was glad he was still enjoying this."

Finn

"Exactly. I'm saving both of our lives right now." He laughed, fingers tracing up and down her arms. He was getting tired, the exhaustion of their act finally wearing on him and as the room filled with no sound but their combined breathing, he let his eyes fall closed, arms wrapping tighter around her as they fell both fell asleep.

#para: loti #para: marley

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alexisrosemullens · 4 years

Text

you are the one (designed for me)

Summary: Everyone has a timer that countdowns until you meet your soulmate. When you meet them, it turns into an infinity sign. The Gallaghers have bad luck with their soulmates, especially Ian whose soulmate left when he needed him the most.

Chapter One: time is moving slow

Chapter Two: My mind runs away to you

The next few weeks, Ian isn’t sure what they are doing. Ian continues going to the Alibi and hanging out with Mickey during his shift but instead of going home, he goes home with Mickey. In the morning, he sneaks out and heads back to his place before Fiona or the kids notice he’s gone.

They become closer and Ian really thinks something could happen between them. He hasn’t had a connection like this in so long, everything just feels right. But he’s afraid. Mickey doesn’t like talking about his soulmate and is closed off when Ian tries to bring it up. He’s worried that he’s jumping into this too fast.

One morning while Ian is getting ready to leave and head back home, Mickey tries to pull him back.

“I have to leave,” Ian hums, leaning into him. “Fiona will be up soon and notice I’m gone.”

“Come on, man, just a little longer.”

Ian grins, kissing him. He slowly pulls away and climbs back out of bed. He hears Mickey make a small noise almost like a hum and a sigh. Ian grins, buttoning up his shirt. “Do you have to work this weekend?”

“Nah, V let me off so I can spend all of it with Yevgeny,” Mickey says.

“That’s good.”

Ian sits back down on the bed and grabs his shoes to pull them on. He feels Mickey’s eyes on him as he ties his shoes.

Mickey clears his throat. “You uh want to come over and hang out with me and the kid?”

Ian stops and turns around, looking at him. “Wait, really?”

Mickey nods. “Yeah, you were really good with him.”

Ian grins and nods. “Yeah, okay. I just have to figure out what to tell Fiona. I think she has to work most of the weekend.”

“Are you still pretending to go to that dumb single’s group?”

“Nah, Fiona knows I quit. Lip doesn’t know yet but I think he figured it out.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Doubtful.”

“Hey! He’s my brother.”

“Still a dick.”

Ian shrugs in agreement. Mickey’s not wrong. He looks down at his watch and jumps up. He kisses Mickey on the cheek. “I really have to go. Text you later!”

Ian easily sneaks into the Gallagher house. No one is awake yet so Ian starts breakfast. He hears movement upstairs when he's almost done so he starts another pot of coffee.

“Morning,” Fiona greets, stumbling into the kitchen.

“Morning,” Ian hands her a mug full of the new brewed pot.

Fiona mumbles a thank you and takes a large sip. “Hmm, that hits the spot.”

Ian chuckles, taking a small sip of his mug.

“You’re up early again,” Fiona says, looking around the kitchen. “And you made breakfast.” She stops and looks at him, narrowing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been waking up early. Thought you guys would like some breakfast”

Fiona shakes her head. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Fiona snorts. “Cut the bullshit, Ian. I’m your sister. I know you. I partially raised you. You’re seeing someone and I want to know who. Is it someone from single’s group? Is that why you stopped going?”

Ian shakes his head. He starts plating breakfast, trying to ignore Fiona’s stare and prying.

“Did you go back to support group and find someone there? Ooh, is it Mickey?”

Ian turns around to face her in shock, his eyes wide. “How? H-how did you?”

Fiona squeals. “It is Mickey! I was just taking a chance with that one!”

More movement starts upstairs. Ian looks up at the ceiling then back at Fiona. He lowers his voice in case one of the kids could hear them. “How did you figure it out?”

Fiona rolls her eyes. “Carl mentioned he came by a few weeks ago, after you helped him out with Yevgeny.” She grins, bouncing slightly on her toes. “I didn’t know Mickey was gay. But I thought he was married to that Russian whore?”

Ian shrugs. “We haven’t talked about that. This is new, Fiona, so stop freaking out. I don’t know what we are yet.”

“Ooh,” Fiona grins.

“Stop,” Ian glares at her and turns back to fixing breakfast.

Fiona giggles. “I’m just messing with you, monkey.”

Ian turns back around to glare at her use of his nickname. “Really? Monkey? Come on, Fi.”

Fiona just continues laughing, ignoring Ian’s glare. She starts getting lunches ready while Ian finishes plating breakfast and setting it on the table.

“So, um,” Ian says after a few minutes of silence. “Mickey invited me over this weekend to hang out with him and Yevgeny.”

Fiona stops what she’s doing and looks at him, her arms crossing. “That sounds serious.”

“I know and so I was wondering what your schedule was this weekend?” Ian asks, his eyes hopeful as he gives his sister a smile. “Do you need me or can you handle it?”

Fiona grins, slapping his arm. “Go! Have fun! Don’t worry about me.”

“But, Fi,”

“Ian, go. Go try and live your life without your soulmate. I’m okay, really,” Fiona promises.

“Are you though?” Ian asks, moving to sit down on the barstool. “You went to support group and went out with that one guy. I never saw you go out anymore. You’ve barely gone out in seven years, Fi. I thought we were going to move on.”

Fiona sighs, leaning against the counter. “Look, you weren’t with your soulmate long. I mean, yeah, three years is a lot but that was when you were getting sick and I know you don’t remember much. I was with Jimmy/Steve for eight years. He helped me raise you kiddos. We lived together for almost five years, here in this house. Him leaving almost broke me. It’s going to take me a lot longer than a few dates to get over him.”

Ian reaches over and grabs his sister’s hands, rubbing her palms. “I know, Fi, but throwing yourself into work and this house isn’t going to help. We said we would try to be happy for Liam. Remember?”

Fiona nods, her eyes shining.

“Ow! Carl!”

Debbie’s loud scream ruins the moment and Fiona pulls her hands away, wiping the tears from her eyes. She gives Ian a look but Ian shakes his head. Fiona grins wickedly and holds her hand out for a game of rock, paper, scissors. Two games later, Ian is upstairs, breaking up a fight between Debbie and Carl.

After Ian’s shift, he heads over to Mickey’s. His hands are sweating and he doesn’t know whether to go in or knock on the door. He decides to knock, figuring that is the safest option. Mickey opens the door and grins.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Ian grins back, nodding at the towel thrown over Mickey’s shoulder.

“Kid wanted some Russian dish Svetlana makes. I have no idea what I’m doing. I ordered pizza as a backup,” Mickey says. He looks over his shoulder then kisses Ian quickly on the cheek before letting him in.

Yevgeny is sitting on the living room surrounded by Legos with the TV on. He looks up when Ian walks in and gives him a funny look.

“Yev, you remember Ian, right?” Mickey asks. “He watched you while I was working and helped you when you were sick.”

Yevgeny’s face lights up. “Yeah! Do you want to play Legos with me? I’m building a castle.”

Ian shrugs off his coat, placing it on the hook by the door. “As long as there are dragons.”

“Duh,” Yevgeny answers in a serious matter. He pats the floor with the least amount of Legos and Ian takes a seat next to him.

The rest of the night goes great. Yevgeny talks Ian’s ears off and forces him to watch a kid show after dinner. Ian doesn’t mind and sits through the weird show quietly. Yevgeny falls asleep during the next episode of the show and Mickey carries him to bed. When he gets back, Ian is putting on his jacket and hat.

“Where are you going?” Mickey asks.

“Home. You have Yevgeny tonight. Didn’t think you would want me to stay the night,” Ian says, zipping his jacket up.

“That’s stupid. He’s four. He doesn’t really understand what’s going on.”

“What about your ex?”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Really? You’re bringing up my ex?”

Ian shuffles his feet, looking down.

“Take your jacket off, man. Stay awhile.”

“Your family’s fucking ridiculous,” Mickey laughs, handing Ian the cigarette they’re sharing. Mickey decided not to chance Yevgeny hearing anything so they ended up watching a movie and talking in Mickey’s bed. “How can you put up with two teenagers and an eight year old under one roof.”

Ian chuckles, leaning his head against the wall. “The bad thing is, that wasn’t the most Debbie thing she’s ever done.”

“She’s done something worse than faking a pregnancy to get a guy to date her?”

“Yep, she stole a baby once.”

Mickey stops laughing and turns to Ian, his eyes wide. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Nope. She was 10 and bored so she lured a toddler out of a birthday party with a candy bar,” Ian told him, handing the cigarette back over to Mickey. “Lip came up with this grand plan and we were able to return the kid, making it look like Debbie found him. Debs got enough money from it that she bought a water heater for the house.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Ian laughs at Mickey’s reaction, bumping his shoulder against his. “Hey, Mandy told me stories about you and your brothers so I know you have crazier ones.”

Mickey groans. “I do not want to talk about those days or my idiot brothers.”

“Come on, Mick,” Ian whines. “I told you several stories from my childhood. You haven’t told me anything.”

“That’s bullshit. You refuse to talk about your teenage and recent years.”

Ian glares at him. “So do you.”

They both stare at each other for a long time before Ian averts his eyes. His mind is racing and wants to ask Mickey what they are but he’s afraid that he’s going to scare Mickey off. Fuck it, he thinks. It’s time to bite the bullet.

“Okay, how about we talk about what we are instead? Cause I for one want to know if we’re dating,” Ian finally says.

“Wow, you don’t hold anything back, do you?”

“Come on, Mick.”

Mickey takes a long drag of his cigarette before answering. “Fuck, I don’t know. I’ve only been with one other guy before my father ruined my life. Then after he died, Yevgeny was here and I didn’t have time to sleep much less go out.”

Ian reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing it. “Okay, so let’s go out and figure this out.”

“Yeah?” Mickey looks over, trying to hide the smile that forming on his face.

“Yeah.”

They figure out pretty quickly they both enjoy going out. By the third date, Ian asks the question again and Mickey agrees that they are dating. They don’t tell anyone at first. It’s Fiona that figures out they’re dating first. Ian waits for her to say something but she just smiles and pats him on the cheek. Debbie figures it out next and she doesn’t stop squealing and hugging them. Ian has to physically pull her off Mickey. Carl and Liam just kind of accept it when Mickey starts coming around more and more, neither one of them caring too much. Lip surprises Ian the most when he finds out. He just crosses his arms and nods at Mickey, not saying anything about it.

Mickey slowly becomes a constant presence in the Gallagher house. The only time he isn’t over is when he has Yevgeny for the weekend but even then he sometimes shows up. A few months into their relationship, Fiona decides she wants to have a big family dinner and invites Mickey and Ella. When Ian tells Mickey, he laughs and refuses but after some convincing from Ian, he reluctantly agrees.

The night of the dinner, Ian picks Mickey up. He grumbles the whole way to the Gallagher house. Ian just laughs at him and squeezes his hand when they make their way up to the house.

“Hey, hey!” Ian says when they walk in the door.

Liam looks up from the TV and smiles. “Hey, Ian! Hey, Mickey! Fiona said dinner will be ready soon.”

Ian leans on the couch, looking at the TV. “What are you even watching?”

Liam shrugs. “I was just flipping through. It’s about a dead guy.”

Ian hums. “Fiona in the kitchen?”

Liam nods, focusing back on the TV. Ian ruffles his hair then motions Mickey to follow him in the kitchen. Fiona turns around when she hears them, her face lighting up with a smile.

“Hey, Mickey! You made it!” she grins, tossing her towel over her shoulder then walking over to them, pulling Mickey in for a hug.

Mickey tenses and slowly pats her back until she lets go. Ian chuckles, bumping his shoulder against Mickey’s.

“Need any help, Fi?” Ian asks.

“Nope, everything’s ready. We’re just waiting for Lip and Ella to get here,” Fiona answers. “But thanks, sweetface.”

Ian groans at the nickname. Mickey smirks at him, mouthing the nickname with raised eyebrows. “Really, Fi? Can’t you drop the nicknames?”

Fiona furrows her eyebrows then her eyes widen when she realizes her slip. “Shit, I’m sorry sweet-, I mean, fuck. I can’t help it.”

Ian just rolls his eyes. “I know.” He walks out the kitchen with Mickey following. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” Mickey smirks, making sure to pop the p. “Sweetface.”

Lip and Ella arrive shortly after and the house gets loud. Fiona has Lip and Ian move the dining room table to the living room and finds two extra seats for Ella and Mickey. As soon as the food is on the table, the Gallaghers dig in, leaving Ella and Mickey in the dust. Ella doesn’t seem to mind and just takes whatever is passed to her. Mickey on the other hand just watches until Ian notices. Ian grabs the mashed potato bowl out of Carl’s hand with a loud “Hey!” in protest and hands it to Mickey.

“If you don’t fight, you won’t get anything,” Ian whispers.

Once food is on their plates, everyone starts talking over each other, trying to catch each other up. Ian places his hand on Mickey’s thigh and squeezes it in reassurance.

“So, Mickey, how’s Yevgeny? Did I say that right?” Fiona finally turns to him after Lip’s finishes his boring story about college.

Mickey nods. “Yeah, that’s right. You can call him Yev. Everyone does.”

“That’s so much easier to say,” Fiona says. “He’s four, right?”

“Yeah,” Mickey answers, scratching his eyebrow. “He turns five in May. Starts kindergarten in the fall.”

“It’s so much easier when they start school. You don’t have to find someone to watch them for eight hours a day and by the time they get home, they are tired and ready for bed,” Fiona says in a dream like state as she imagines the first day of school. “I was there when all these kiddos started kindergarten. Remember just like it was yesterday.”

Debbie and Carl groan as Lip rolls his eyes.

“Great, here she goes,” Debbie cringes. “Now she’s going to cry. I recommend you run now, Mickey.”

“Well, I’m sorry for getting emotional!” Fiona says. “Liam was the easiest and the hardest. Ran straight to the teacher and didn’t look back. I cried all the way to work then got sent home because I cried when a customer ordered a burger.” She grins at Liam. “Debbie cried everyday for a week until she finally found a friend. That was a nightmare.”

“Fiona,” Debbie whines. “Do you have tell Ella and Mickey all of our stories? Just tell them what Lip and Ian did.”

Fiona sucks in air between her teeth and closes one eye as she tries to remember. “Let’s see. I was about 11 when Lip went to kindergarten. No, 10. I was 11 when Ian started school. Monica was still pregnant with Debs and I think she was actually at home for once. I remember because I had to drop Ian off at daycare then Lip, so I woke up extra early. Both of them were so cranky.” She winks at Lip and Ian and both of them groan. “After I dropped Ian off, I walked Lip to the elementary school. The teacher was so confused when I showed up until another teacher whispered in her ear. So she motioned Lip in. Lip just walked in but a week later refused to go back. I had to bribe him with pancakes until he caved. I found out later it’s because he was bored and his teacher recommended he skip a grade but I never got the letter.”

“I could have been done with college by now,” Lip teases her with a glare. Fiona flips him off causing Lip to laugh and throw his hands up. “Okay, okay, I blame Frank.”

Fiona grins. “With Ian, Debbie was maybe six months old? Monica was pregnant with Carl and would come and go.” She turns to Lip and furrows her eyebrows.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Lip agrees.

“So the morning Ian started school, Debbie kept me up all night screaming. I remember Frank was passed out on the couch and didn’t move the whole night. I was exhausted and didn’t want to drop him off. I asked Lip if he could watch Ian and make sure he got into his classroom safely.” She stops her story and nods at Ian. “But you cried when I said that. You wrapped your little arms around me and refused to let go until I said I would go. So I strapped Debbie in a stroller and we took off. As soon as the teacher smiled at you, you ran into the classroom.”

Ian groans, burying his head in hands. “Jesus, Fiona.”

“Carl just shrugged and walked in. Then he got sent home a few hours later for stealing a kid’s lunch,” Fiona finishes her story. She just had to include them all.

“Nice,” Carl says, throwing his hand up for either Debbie or Liam to high five him. Debbie slaps the back of his head instead.

“Debbie!” Fiona, Lip, and Ian all scold at the same time. Debbie just rolls her eyes.

“Let’s hope Yev has an easy transition like Liam,” Fiona turns back to Mickey.

“Uh, yeah. I hope so,” Mickey answers, shifting in his seat.

Ian gives Fiona a pleading look. She gets his sign and turns to Ella, asking about school.

After dinner, the boys move the table back and everyone starts cleaning up. Fiona refuses to let Ella and Mickey help and sends them into the living room. Mickey just sends Ian a “help me” look but Ian quickly kisses his cheek and pushes him into the living room.

A few minutes later, Ian appears with a piece of pie. He sits in between Ella and Mickey and pops a bite into his mouth. Mickey eyes the pie.

“Yes, Ian, I would love some pie. Thanks for the offer,” Mickey says sarcastically, trying to reach of Ian’s pie.

Ian moves it out of his reach, hitting Ella. “Oops, Sorry, El.”

“Not the worst thing that’s happened to me in this house,” Ella responds, rubbing her head. “Carl gave me lice, remember?”

“Right.”

“You seriously aren’t going to offer pie?” Mickey asks, watching Ian take another bite.

“Fiona likes to cut it and bring it,” Ella tells him, nodding at the doorway.

And she’s right, Fiona is standing in the doorway with two plates. “Ian, I told you that we were eating dessert in the kitchen. Debbie wants to tell us something.”

“Sorry, Fi,” Ian answers, his mouth full of pie.

Fiona rolls her eyes and motions for Ella and Mickey. Mickey stands up and gladly takes a plate of pie out of her hand. He stands awkwardly in the kitchen next to Ella and watches Fiona, Lip, and Ian move seamlessly around each other and everyone else in the kitchen.

“This is weird,” he mumbles.

Ella shrugs. “You get use it. The three are a unit.”

“I think I might have met my soulmate,” Debbie announces to the room. She’s standing in the middle of kitchen, her eyes falling to her older siblings.

Fiona, Lip, and Ian stop what they’re doing and turn to look at her. Mickey puts his bite of pie down and turns to Ella, both their eyes wide.

“What?” Fiona asks. “You met your soulmate?”

Debbie shrugs. “I mean, I’m not sure because I haven’t taken off the cover but I can feel it, you know?”

“I didn’t think you felt anything when you met your soulmate,” Carl mumbles, his mouth full of pie. “Of course most people don’t cover up their countdowns.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Fiona, Lip, and Ian tell Carl at the same time. Carl rolls his eyes at them.

Ella raises her eyebrows at Mickey as if to say “I told you so.”

Debbie glares at Carl and turns back to her older siblings. “Do you feel anything? When you meet them?”

Fiona leans against the sink, running her hands through her hair. She looks at the tattoo on her wrist and sighs. “Like a spark or anything? No. More like butterflies in your stomach. I was so nervous over Jimmy/Steve.”

“Really?” Debbie perks up at the mention of butterflies. “You never told me that.”

Fiona shrugs. “You were young when I met him. You probably don’t remember. I didn’t want him over here for the longest. I was ashamed back then.”

“But you did bring him over and he lived here for a while,” Debbie says. “He was fun.”

“Yeah, he gave me an X-Box,” Carl adds.

Fiona nods. “He was but he was also dangerous and not good for me. For us.”

“Did you feel something when he left?” Debbie asks.

“Debs,” Lip interrupts. He’s leaning against the counter by the fridge, a towel in his hands, watching his sister with worried eyes. He crosses his arms and turns to give Debbie a look.

“No, Lip,” Fiona stops him. “They’re old enough now. They’ve seen it all. They should know. God knows I wish I knew. And Ian knew.” She takes a deep breath and continues. “I felt a deep ache when he left. The pain was almost too much to bare but I did. I got up every day because of you and Carl and Liam. And Lip and Ian.” She nods at them. “I loved Jimmy/Steve but my love for you guys overcame the pain. And it took me a long time to realize I didn’t need him. I just needed my family.”

“Wow,” Debbie whispers. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to,” Fiona mumbles, looking down. “I’m always going to protect you.”

Debbie turns to Lip and Ian. “What about you two? Did you feel anything?”

“I uh-don’t really remember a lot. Those weren’t really good years for me, Debs,” Ian says, looking down at his feet. He shifts his weight from one foot to the next. He can feel Mickey get closer to him.

“Oh, Ian, I didn’t.”

“No, Debs, I know,” Ian looks back up and smiles at her. “The past is in the past. I’m good now.” He looks over at Mickey and smiles at him. Mickey smiles back, nodding at him.

“I was scared,” Lip speaks up, steering the conversation to him. Ian gives him a grateful smile. “I didn’t know how it was going to work with Ella. I watched Monica leave Frank at such a young age and I saw what it did to him. I watched Jimmy/Steve leave Fiona and how it almost destroyed her. I had just watched Ian lose his soulmate and I was scared. I didn’t think I could handle it happen to myself but then Ella talked and all my fears just vanished.” He walks over to Ella and she grins, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Aww,” Debbie grins. “Now that’s like the stories Fiona use to tell us when we were little.”

“Debs, I’m the rare one in the family that is still with their soulmate,” Lip continues. “Gallaghers don’t have good luck so you need to be careful.”

“You know, you could take off your covering and see if they are your soulmate,” Carl speaks up.

“Yeah but then that just the whole universe thing and my destiny. I want to take control of my destiny,” Debbie says. “I don’t need some dumb tattoo telling me that someone is my soulmate. What about what my heart says?”

Carl raises his eyebrows. “I think you've been reading too many feminist articles and books.”

Ian snorts, covering it up by burrowing his head in Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey tries to hide his smile. Debbie turns to Mickey, raising her eyebrows.

“What about you, Mickey? You found your soulmate, right? Did you feel anything?”

Ian feels Mickey stiffen and he lifts his head, looking at him. Mickey pulls away from Ian, biting his thumb nervously. “Uh, no. I didn’t feel anything.”

“What happened to your soulmate?” Debbie asks, leaning against the counter and placing her chin in her hands.

Mickey’s eyes widen. He glances at Ian before heading out the back door. Ian sighs, debating whether he should follow him. He gives Debbie a stern look as he walks to the back door.

“Don’t push him, Debs. If he wants to talk about it, he will,” he says before going outside.

He finds Mickey sitting on the steps, smoking a cigarette. Ian sits by him, grabbing the cigarette from him and takes a hit. Mickey glares at him and takes the cigarette back.

“Your sister is fucking nosy,” he mumbles, taking another hit.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Debbie doesn’t think before she speaks,” Ian says.

Mickey shrugs. “Your fucking family, man. They’re intense.”

“Yeah, they can be,” Ian agrees, throwing his arm around Mickey and rubbing his shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about your soulmate until you’re ready. Okay?”

Mickey sighs. “There’s not much to talk about. I don’t even know the guy’s name. Took off before I found out.”

Ian hisses. “Fucker.”

Mickey bows his head, twisting the cigarette between his hands. “What about you? You don’t like to talk about yours and sounds like your whole fucking family knows everything about you two, including his name..”

“Trevor,” Ian says. “His name was Trevor and I was with him for three years before he left me. That’s all you need to know.”

Mickey nods. “Okay.”

They sit in silence, sharing another cigarette. Mickey finally looks up.

“Are we good to put this soulmate shit behind us?”

“Yeah, Mick, I think that’s a great idea.”

Mickey grabs Ian’s hand and squeezes it. “Your fucking family, man,” he repeats. “Fiona is a badass though. Raising all you.”

Ian laughs then nods. “She’s the strongest person I know.”

“They’re going to take some time to get used to. I guess I need to get used to them, huh?” Mickey asks, turning to look at Ian.

Ian processes his words then his face breaks into a grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mickey grins, leaning into Ian.

The guy Debbie meets end up not being her soulmate. The guy shows her his countdown about an hour into their first date. She’s disappointed but they end up going out for a few dates. When he dumps her, Fiona and Ian are there with pizza and ice cream.

Ian starts spending more weekends at Mickey’s. Yevgeny loves Ian and is so happy whenever he comes over. He still has no idea that Ian and Mickey are together. He tells Svetlana one day that Ian is always over but neither Ian and Mickey know until one morning Ian walks in Mickey’s kitchen to find Svetlana holding a knife.

“Uh, hi?” Ian greets, confused.

“You Ian?” Svetlana asks, twirling the knife in between her fingers.

“Yes.”

“Mikhailo and Evgeni asleep?”

“Yeah?” Ian raises his eyebrows and move past her to grab a piece of bread. He pops it in the toaster and turns back to her. “I have an early shift and I thought you were picking Yev up later?”

“We need to talk,” Svetlana says, sitting down and sitting the knife in the table.

Ian takes the bread out of the toaster and puts it on a plate. He sits down across from her with his toast and a jar of peanut butter. “Sorry, I have to eat something.”

“I do not care,” she glares at him. “Milkhailo has been through a lot. I will not have you break his heart.”

“I wasn’t planning on it?”

Svetlana nods to his right wrist. “And your soulmate?”

Ian moves his hand to hide it under the table. “You don’t have to worry about him.”

Svetlana narrows her eyes. “My Evgeni is involved now. If he comes back and you leave, I kill you.”

Ian is speechless, staring at her. She gives him a small evil like grin and is gone as quickly as she left. Ian stays at the table confused until Mickey walks in.

“Morning. I thought you had an early shift,” Mickey says, kissing his cheek before starting on breakfast.

“Yeah. Um, your ex was just here?”

Mickey turns around, raising his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Svetlana was here in the kitchen when I woke up and I think she threatened me?”

Mickey scoffs and turns back around. “Yeah, that’s normal. She’s always doing that.”

“She stuck the knife in the table.”

“Fuck! Again? Damn it, Svet!” Mickey looks at the table, running his hand over it, looking for the mark.

“I’m so confused right now.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry about her, man. She’s like that. She doesn’t mean anything.”

Ian gulps. “She sounded pretty serious, Mick.”

“I’ll deal with her. You better start getting ready or you’ll be late.”

Ian barely makes it into work on time. Sue raises her eyebrows at him when he rushes by to his locker but doesn’t say anything until he is changed and sitting on the bed of the ambulance.

“Cutting it close, Gallagher,” Sue says, handing him a coffee.

“Yeah, sorry. Mickey’s ex appeared this morning and threatened me.”

Sue whistles. “Jesus.”

“Yeah, it was weird. Mick said not to worry about her but she sounded pretty serious.”

Sue slaps his shoulder. “Living without your soulmate is super dramatic.”

“Nah, being a Gallagher dating a Milkovich is,” Ian says, taking a sip of his coffee. His eyes widen at a thought. “Fuck! Mandy! We haven’t told Mandy.”

“Jesus, Gallagher, take you dramatics elsewhere.” Sue pushes him off the bed of the ambulance, rolling her eyes.

When Ian gets off, he calls Mandy and she screams in his ear for five minutes. She tells him that she is coming home as soon as she can. She arrives at Mickey’s apartment one week later. Yevgeny squeals when he sees her and jumps into her arms.

The first night, Ian and Mandy stay up most of the night. Mandy tells Ian all about her adventures around the United States and trying to find her soulmate. She shows Ian her countdown and how little time she has left. Mandy left almost four years ago to try to find her soulmate faster. She has yet to find him any faster but has enjoyed exploring the country.

Mandy stays for the rest of the summer. She watches Yevgeny on the weekends so Ian and Mickey can go out. She joins them for family dinners at the Gallaghers. Fiona welcomes her back with open arms and Debbie drags her away for boy advice. She connects with Ella almost immediately and the two tease Lip constantly. She catches up with Mickey and they talk for hours. When it’s time for her to live, Yevgeny sobs, Ian hugs her tight, and even Mickey hugs her. She cries and promises to come back as soon as she has found her soulmate.

Summer turns into fall. Ian spends more time at Mickey’s than his house. The only time he goes to the Gallaghers is when he has a night shift. When Mickey is at the Gallaghers, he forms this weird bond with Fiona. The two seem to get each other. Ian has caught Mickey texting with her on several occasions.

Yevgeny starts school and Mickey hates that the kid walks straight into the classroom and doesn’t look back. Svetlana refuses to let Ian join them on his first day so Mickey shows him all the pictures on his phone later. Svetlana still hates Ian no matter what he does. Mickey tries to have a dinner in hopes they will get along but Svetlana ends up slamming a knife into the table and Mickey yells at her for ruining the table. Ian and Svetlana come to a mutual hatred after that.

Ian has been managing his bipolar disorder for almost six years. Mickey has yet to see Ian in a depressive or manic state since they started dating almost eight months ago. Ian knows it won’t last and only time will tell but he’s enjoying it will he can.

The depressive episode creeps on him as it turns colder. He can feel himself getting more tired and cranky. When Fiona asks him about it, he snaps then storms out of the house. At Mickey’s, he tries to hide it. He can sense that Mickey doubts him but he doesn’t say anything about it. He has heard Ian snap at Fiona and Lip too many times to even try to ask.

One afternoon during his shift, Sue sends him home. When he protests angrily, she calls Fiona. Fiona huffs when she picks him up. She tries to convince him to go to the clinic but he refuses. He storms up the stairs as soon as they get home and refuses to come down for dinner.

The next morning, he doesn’t get up. He doesn’t feel anything except anger. Anger at himself. He should have seen this coming. He should know the signs now after six years.

“Ian?” He hears Debbie’s voice but he can’t speak. He feels his bed sink and a hand on his shoulder. “Fiona said to check on you. Do you need anything?”

He can’t respond. He hates that he’s doing this to his family. That he can’t force himself up. He hears Debbie sigh and feels his shoulder being squeezed.

“I’ll call Sue.” The bed creaks and the extra weight is gone. He hears Debbie quietly close the door.

Ian doesn’t know how much time passes. Debbie, Carl, and Liam come and go. They talk to him, squeeze his shoulder then leave. When Fiona appears next, Ian figures it’s the end of the day.

“Hey, sweetface,” she whispers. “I called Lip. He’s on his way. Do you want me to call Mickey?”

Ian hates himself even more. He’s not just hurting his family anymore. He’s hurting his boyfriend. He wants to tell her yes but he can’t. Instead, he sinks deeper into his pillow. He feels the bed sink again and hair tickle his neck.

Fiona doesn’t say anything. She just lays there beside him. Time passes again and the door creaks open.

“Hey,” Ian hears Lip whisper.

Ian feels Fiona shift and the hair is gone. “Hey.”

“I got supper for the kids. Liam’s scared. He keeps asking what’s going on. Debbie isn’t helping with her statistics.”

Ian’s anger at himself grows. His little brother is scared of him. He needs to get up. He needs show Liam that he’s okay.

“I shouldn’t have left him here with Debbie.”

“I can take him to my place tonight. Unless you need me here.”

“No, I think it’s better if Liam goes with you. You can talk to him and try to explain it.”

“What about tomorrow? Debbie and Carl have school.”

“I’m taking off. I’m the manager now so they can go fuck themselves if they say anything.”

Ian hears Lip chuckle. There’s silence for a long time and Ian figures Lip left but then Lip speaks back up. “Did you call Mickey?”

“No. I don’t know how he’s going to react to this. What if he runs off like Trevor?”

“Mandy stayed. It can’t hurt to call.”

“Okay. Do you want to call him or me?”

Ian hears Lip snort. “You two have this weird friendship. I think you should.”

The extra weight leaves the bed. “Stay in here until I get back?”

“Fiona, Debbie said he didn’t move all day. He’s not going to try anything.” There’s silence again and weight back on the bed. “Go call Mickey. I’ll be right here.”

The door slowly closes. Ian feels his legs being pushed and he wants to kick Lip but he can’t. He hears Lip sigh and feels weight on his legs.

“You’re a stubborn fuck, you know that,” he hears Lip say. “I don’t want to make you feel worse but I told you so. Fiona did too. You have to start listening to us. If not us, you need to talk to Mickey and he can tell you when something is up.”

Ian still doesn’t say anything. Lip is right. He usually is. He hears the door slowly up and the weight is off his legs.

“Mickey’s on his way. He has to drop Yev off with Svetlana. He wanted to bring him but I didn’t think that was a good idea.” He hear Fiona say.

“Probably for the best. Don’t want to scare the kid.” There’s a pause. “I’ll stay here until he gets here.”

“Can you go downstairs and stop Debbie and Carl? Liam’s freaking out again and those two are not helping.”

“Yeah, I’ll bring Mickey up when he gets here.”

The door closes again and the bed sinks again. He feels Fiona’s hand on his shoulder and she starts rubbing. “Hey, sweetface, you can get past this. You always do.” He feels something on his shoulder. “We love you.” The extra weight is gone and she continues rubbing his shoulder.

Ian doesn’t know how much time passes when the door opens back up. The bed shifts and he feels Fiona get up.

“What’s going on?” Mickey. He’s here. He showed up. He didn’t leave him.

“He’s having a depressive episode,” he hears Fiona explain. “Did Ian tell you about it?”

“Yeah, he explained it and Mandy told me how he was when he was diagnosed. Does he need to go to the doctor?”

He hears Lip snort. “Good luck getting him to leave the bed.”

“Lip!” Ian hears a slap and a ‘Fuck’ from Lip. “It’s not that easy, Mickey. He can still have an episode when his meds are working but we don’t know until we can get him to his doctor. And even if he has to get new meds, it could take a while.”

“How long are we talking?”

“Few weeks. A month or two,” Ian hears Lip add.

He hears Mickey cuss and the bed sinks. “What can I do?”

“Talk to him. Help him stay hydrated and go to the bathroom.”

There is silence and Ian wishes he could speak and tell Mickey that he’s okay. He feels a cold hand on his face.

“I’m going to head out, Fi. Call me if anything happens.”

“I’ll walk you out. I need to tell Liam goodbye.”

The door closes again and the hand starts stroking his face . “I’m here, Ian. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ian squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block the tears.

Weeks pass or at least Ian assumes it’s been weeks and Mickey stays with him as much as he can. He only leaves when he has to work or go get Yevgeny. Ian feels awful for making him do this but can’t bring himself to get up. One afternoon, Fiona is with sitting him while Mickey goes to get Yevgeny. Ian is facing her today and listening to her read a ridiculous romance novel out loud.

Fiona scoffs when she gets to the love scene and slams the book shut. “I don’t know why I still read these things. It’s the same story line with different character names.”

“Because you need to get laid,” he mumbles.

Fiona gasps, poking him with her foot. “I liked it when you didn’t talk.”

Ian gives her a small grin.

Fiona frowns, looking sorry immediately. “I know you hate when I ask but how are you feeling, sweetface?”

Ian tucks the blanket closer. “Okay. When’s Mickey coming back?”

“He should be back now.”

They sit in silence and Ian must have fallen asleep again because the next thing he knows, the bed is sinking and there is a body on top of his.

“Yev! I told you not to do that.”

The weight is gone and Ian shifts, opening his eyes. Yevgeny is right in front of his face, his eyes wide.

“Daddy says you’re sick,” he says.

Ian groans and looks up at Mickey. Mickey pulls Yevgeny back. “Sorry, he wanted to see you. Fiona and I didn’t think it was a good idea but he cried.”

“It’s okay. Yeah, Yev, I’m sick.”

“Why don’t you take some medicine?” Yevgeny asks, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“It’s not that simple, Yev,” Ian sighs. “But I’m getting better.”

“Do you need a hug? Hugs always make me feel better.”

“A hug sounds great, Yevy.”

Yevgeny grins and climbs up into the bed, snuggling closer to Ian. Ian hears Mickey make a small noise in protest but Ian just smiles at him, letting him know it’s okay. He closes his eyes and quickly falls back to sleep. When he wakes back up, Yevgeny is gone and Mickey is in his place. Ian sighs in contentment and snuggles closer to Mickey, burying his face in Mickey’s neck.

It takes Ian another week before he starts feeling better. He gets up one morning and Mickey and Fiona take him to his doctor. After a long talk and few adjustments, Ian feels a little better. It takes him another week to get back on his feet. Mickey is there with him the whole time. He finally goes back to work and slowly starts feeling like himself.

"I'm sorry."

Mickey puts his phone down and looks down at Ian. It's been almost a month since Ian has gotten over his depressive episode. Fiona continues to keep a close eye on him and because of it, Mickey starts staying with him at the Gallagher house more and more. He only goes to his place when he has Yevgeny. Even though Mickey hates Ian's mattress, he doesn't complain. They are currently squished in Ian's awful, too small mattress. "For what?"

"That was my first episode since we started seeing each other," Ian continues. "I'm sorry I did that to you. I'm sorry you had to see me like that. And I know it's a lot to handle so I get it if you don't want to do this anymore."

Mickey rubs his eyes, silent for a moment. Ian watches him, his eyes wide. Mickey sighs and picks his phone back up, turning it to show Ian what's on the screen. Ian grabs the phone, sitting up to read. "'Soulmates and Bipolar Disorder'? Mick, why are you reading this?"

"Most articles about helping someone with bipolar has to do with soulmates," Mickey grumbles. "Figured it couldn't hurt."

"No, I-" Ian stops and looks at him. "I don't understand."

Mickey rolls his eyes and sits up to look in the eye. He grabs his face and kisses him. "Ian, I'm here in your loud childhood house with your nosy older sister, annoying teenage siblings, and your younger brother. I'm laying on your stupid, lumpy mattress that barely fits your tall ass. Your episode hit during the worst possible time with my son starting school yet I still fucking showed up. I'm not going anywhere. And don't fucking apologize for who you are."

Ian grins, pushing him down on the mattress that he hates so much and kisses him slowly.

Christmas and the New Year comes and goes. Ian changes shifts and starts studying for his paramedic exam. Mickey picks up more shifts at the bar to help with Yevgeny getting into private school. After a long, heated discussion with Svetlana, they realized public wasn't working for the kid. Ian and Mickey barely get to see other lately and when they did, they enjoyed the time together.

One cold morning, Ian and Mickey are in the kitchen eating breakfast. The house is empty and they are enjoying not only the rare silence but the rare time they have together now with their busy schedules. Mickey is teasing Ian over his small breakfast when the front door opens.

“Where’s my loving family?” Frank’s voice carries into the kitchen.

Ian rolls his eyes, mumbling under his breath about money and stupid Frank.

“Kids?”

Ian pales when he hears the other voice. He stands up slowly, watching Frank and Monica come into view.

“Ian!” Monica squeals, running into the kitchen and pulling him into her arms.

Ian slowly wraps his arms around her and whispers. “Hi, Mom.”

Frank ignores them, and pushes past them to start looking in the kitchen cabinets and draws. “Can you spare some cash?”

“Fuck off, Frank,” Mickey pipes up. No one has seen him in weeks and they really thought he might have died this time. Unfortunately, they weren’t that lucky.

Monica pulls away from Ian and looks at Mickey. She glances down at Ian’s right wrist and her mouth widens. “Oh.”

“Just a five would work. But $150 would be better,” Frank continues, opening up the fridge.

Ian rolls his eyes. “We don’t have any money, Frank.”

“That’s bullshit,” Frank turns to him, getting in his face.

“Frank!” Monica cries.

“Hey!” Mickey yells, standing up and yanking Frank back. “Get the fuck away from him.”

Frank immediately reacts, trying to punch Mickey. Mickey ducks and grabs Frank by the arms, pulling them behind his back. Monica screams, trying to pull Mickey off. Mickey gives Ian a look and Ian gives him a short nod. Mickey drags Frank out, ignoring Frank’s constant screaming.

“What the hell? Frank!” Monica cries. She turns to Ian and starts hitting his chest, yelling at him. Ian grabs her hands, forcing her to stop.

“We don’t have any money, Mom. You and Frank can’t have our money,” Ian yells, forcing her to look in his eyes. “You aren’t using it on drugs.”

“Ian, no.”

“Why are you here, Mom? Why are you here?”

“Can’t a mother just come see here children?”

Ian raises his eyebrows. “Really, Mom? You’ve been gone for five years this time.”

Monica sighs, sitting down at the table. She pats the seat next to her and Ian hesitantly sits down. Monica grabs his right hand and turns it around, looking at the zero tattoo. “That man, he isn’t your soulmate.”

Ian shakes his hand, pulling his wrist back. “You’ve met my soulmate, Mom. You know that time you tried to kill yourself in front of the sink? He was here.”

“What happened?”

Ian sighs, running his hand through his hair. “You really don’t remember?” Monica shakes her head. “He left because of my bipolar disorder. He didn’t like how it affected our relationship so he left.”

“Oh, baby,” Monica grabs Ian’s hand and squeezes it. “He’ll come back though. He’s your soulmate.”

Ian pulls his hand away. “I don’t want him back. I have Mickey.”

Monica sighs. “I’ve had other men and women besides Frank but they aren’t the same. They don’t give you the same feeling as your soulmate.”

Ian stands up, pushing his chair out from under him, causing it to fall. He clenches his fists, his face twisting in anger. “Then why the fuck do you leave him? If Frank is your soulmate, why do you keep leaving?”

“Cause Frank drives me crazy!”

Ian scoffs. “That doesn’t mean anything, Mom. If you love Frank like you say, you wouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t leave us .”

“Ian,” Monica reaches out, grabbing his hands. “You need to listen to me. Mickey will not give you the same joy as your soulmate. He will never make you feel whole. That’s why I keep coming back. I always think I can find someone that won’t drive me crazy like Frank but none of them make me feel the same.”

“Jesus Christ, Frank’s like a fucking cockroach,” Mickey mumbles, coming back inside. He looks around the kitchen, raising his eyebrows at Ian when he sees the chair knocked over and Ian standing over his mother.

Ian pulls away from Monica. “I have to get work. You should probably leave before Fiona or the kids get back,” he tells Monica. He turns away before Monica can say anything else. He can hear Mickey follow him and he turns around when he gets to the front door. “I have to go. Can you make sure she leaves?”

“Uh, yeah,” Mickey answers, crossing his arms. “You coming over tonight?”

Ian shrugs. “I’ll let you know before I get off, okay.”

Mickey nods, watching him leave.

After work, Ian heads straight home, calling Mickey and telling him that he’s tired. Mickey accepts it and lets it go. He lays in bed that night and thinks about everything Monica says. He knows he shouldn’t but his brain doesn’t listen and continues to play Monica’s words over and over.

Ian starts picking up even more shifts after that. He tells himself he isn’t avoiding Mickey but he knows he is. Mickey hunts him down and corners him one afternoon in the station, demanding to know what’s going on.

“We need the money so I picked up some extra shifts. It’s nothing,” Ian assures him, quickly pecking him on the cheek.

“Fine,” Mickey huffs. “Come over tonight?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

When Mickey leaves, Sue lets out a low whistles. Ian glares at her but she doesn’t say anything.

Ian has every intention of talking to Mickey that night but as soon as Ian opens Mickey’s door, Mickey is on him. After two rounds of sex and two plates of pizza bagels each, they sit up in Mickey’s bed, sharing a cigarette.

“Fuck, man, maybe you should work more often. Makes the reunions pretty fucking awesome,” Mickey grins, handing him the cigarette.

Ian hums, not saying anything. His mind his racing, going back to Monica’s words.

“Kid’s been wondering where you’ve been. He misses you,” Mickey says, taking the cigarette back. “Won’t stop bugging me about you.”

Ian laughs at the image of Yevgeny bugging Mickey about him. The five year old was known for his constant questions, driving Mickey insane. “Driving you insane?”

“The kid won’t shut up. He kept following me around.”

Ian laughs, leaning against Mickey. Mickey places his hand on Ian’s thigh, squeezing it. They sit in silence for a while. Ian stretches after a while and sits up. Mickey groans at the loss of contact, sitting up and watching Ian get dressed.

“Why don’t you stay?” he asks.

Ian shakes his head. “Can’t. I have a double tomorrow.”

“I have the kid this weekend.”

“Mick, you have Yev every weekend,” Ian turns to him, grinning.

“Are you going to come over? Or am I stuck with him following me around all weekend?”

Ian hesitates, pulling on his shirt. Monica’s words start running through his head but then he sees Mickey’s face and can’t help but tell him that he’ll be there. He kisses Mickey quickly and heads out the door.

That weekend, Ian heads to Mickey’s apartment. He is greeted by Yevgeny jumping into his arms.

“Ian!” the boy squeals, hugging him around the neck. “We’re making pancakes!”

“Breakfast for supper?” Ian asks, setting him down. “That sounds like an amazing idea.”

“Come on!” Yevgeny takes Ian’s hand and tries to drag him into the kitchen.

Ian chuckles at the boy and lets him lead him into the kitchen. Mickey’s standing in front of the stove with a kitchen towel over his shoulder, flipping pancakes. He turns around and grins when he sees Ian.

“Hey, hope you like breakfast for supper. Kid here was begging for pancakes,” Mickey says.

Ian smiles, looking over. “Looks good.”

“Ian! Look what I drew!” Yevgeny tugs on Ian’s hand, trying to lead him to the table.

Mickey gives him a quick kiss and watches him go over to the kitchen table.

Later that night, after eating, Mickey goes to put Yevgeny to bed and Ian stands at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes. Mickey comes in a few minutes later and leans against the counter, watching him. Ian turns, giving him a weird look.

“What?” he asks.

Mickey shrugs, crossing his arms. “Nothing. Just like watching you.”

Ian rolls his eyes but grins. “Weirdo.”

Mickey chuckles, pushing off the counter. He goes up to stand by Ian, pushing him to the side so he can take over rinsing the dishes. They wash the dishes in silence and then dry and put the dishes away. After Ian puts the last dish away, he leans against the counter and places the towel over his shoulder. Mickey washes down the countertops, feeling Ian watching him.

“Now who’s the weirdo,” Mickey mumbles. He finishes his chore, throwing the washcloth in the sink. He walks over and stands in front of Ian. “Thanks for coming over. Meant a lot to the kid.”

Ian tilts his head, giving him a look. “Just Yev?”

“Come on, man,” Mickey bows his head, hitting his shoe against Ian’s. “I- uh like this thing between us. I like you being here and I- uh like going over to your place. I really like you, Gallagher.”

Ian bows his head. This is Mickey’s way of telling him how much he likes him, possibly love, and Ian’s terrified. Monica’s voice grows louder and louder in his head. He can’t breathe. “Yeah, well I hope so. This thing has been going on for what? Nine months?”

Mickey chuckles. “A long fucking time, man. Almost a year. Should we celebrate or something?”

Ian doesn’t look up. His mind is racing. Celebrate. He wants to celebrate their anniversary. Monica’s voice continues to get louder. He grips the countertop and looks at his shoes. He sees Mickey’s right hand move towards him. He notices the tattoo. He pushes past Mickey, trying to put some distance between them. “What about your soulmate?”

“What’s going on? I thought we put this soulmate shit behind us,” Mickey asks, reaching to grab Ian’s hand but Ian flinches. Mickey sighs. “There’s nothing to talk about. He left. Just like yours.”

“Don’t you want him to come back?” Ian asks.

“Why are you bringing this up? We talked about it."

"No, we didn't," Ian says. "We pushed it away, buried it."

Mickey groans. "Seriously, Gallagher? What the fuck is this? You really want a fucking answer? No, I don't want him back. Why would I? Just so he can leave again?” Ian hears Mickey move towards him so he moves further away. “What’s this about?” Ian doesn’t say anything. “Ian? Look at me, man.”

Ian slowly turns around to face him. Mickey’s eyes are wide and he looks panic. “I-uh need to think about us.”

“Ian-”

“I just need to think about this,” Ian grabs his jacket off the chair and puts it on. He gives Mickey one last look before grabbing his keys. Mickey is looking down at the kitchen floor when Ian closes the door.

He doesn’t get out of bed the next day. Fiona tries to talk to him but he ignores her and rolls over. Lip comes by late afternoon and drags him out of bed. Ian tries to fight him but Lip overpowers him. He forces him into his fancy car and drives him to Patsy’s. Ian glares at him but follows him inside, letting Lip order for him.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?” Lip demands after the waitress takes their orders. “You just recovered from a depressive episode a few months ago so I know it’s not that.”

Ian shrugs, looking down.

Lip sighs at his lack of answer. “Fiona tells me that Mickey has stopped coming over. And you’ve only been over to his place twice in the last few weeks. Something’s going on with you and you need to tell me what.”

The waitress comes back with their drink order. Ian thanks her and takes his tea. He absentmindedly stirs it, avoiding Lip.

“Ian, come on,” Lip tries again.

“Monica came back a few weeks ago,” Ian starts.

“Yeah, I remember Debbie said something about it. She stayed maybe a week this time,” Lip says bitterly.

“Mickey and I were home alone when she walked in. Frank was with her and was being Frank. Mickey got him out of the house,” Ian tells him, still stirring his tea. “Monica sat down with me and told me that Mickey wouldn’t give me the same feeling as Trevor. She told me that Trevor would be back. I know she’s wrong. She fucking left us so much that her words mean nothing but my mind just kept playing her words back.”

Lip sighs, running his hand through his hair. He is silent for a long time, thinking. Ian knows he is trying to think of something to say that won’t make him mad. Lip finally sighs, gripping his mug. “Look, you know I’m not a fan of Mickey but he is a whole lot better than fucking Trevor. He cares for you and is there for you more in this last year than Trevor ever was those three years. Monica is a fucking idiot for saying that.”

“I know. And I know I shouldn’t have listened to her but I did,” Ian bows his head, looking into his coffee. “I told Mickey I needed to think about our relationship.”

Lip hisses. “Those words really fucking got to you.”

“I just kept thinking about Mickey’s soulmate and if he comes back.”

“Fuck Monica, okay? Fuck those words. Fuck your soulmate and fuck Mickey’s soulmate.” Ian looks up at his brother, shocked at his words. Lip holds eye contact him. “You love Mickey. You are good for Mickey and he’s good for you.”

“I do love him,” Ian nods.

“Then go tell him that.”

“But what if he leaves?”

Lip sighs. “I know you don’t want to be hurt again and I can’t tell you that you never will again. And if it does happen, you move on and you beat it.”

Ian stares at him, his mind racing. He stands up, almost knocking over his mug. “I have to go.” He runs out of the diner, almost hitting the waitress bringing their food but he keeps running. He doesn’t stop until he’s in front of Mickey’s door and almost beats it down when he knocks on it.

“Holy fucking. Calm your fucking tits. I’m coming!” Mickey yells inside. Ian hears him stomping to the door and he can’t stand still. “What?” The door yanks open and Mickey stands there fuming. When he sees it’s Ian, his face falls but only slightly. He opens his mouth to speak but Ian doesn’t give him time. He grabs Mickey’s shirts and kisses him. Mickey reacts immediately, pulling him inside. Mickey kicks the door closes with his foot and they stumble into the apartment, falling onto the couch. The sex is quick and over before it even really started. Ian leads him into the bedroom and this time they take their time.

“Holy fuck,” Mickey groans as they lay next to each after the second round.

“Yeah,” Ian says. He rolls over, facing Mickey. He runs his hand through Mickey’s hair, reeling in the softness of it. “I’m sorry I ran out the other day. My mom said these things about soulmates and I couldn’t stop thinking about it even though it was bullshit. I mean, she has left Frank so fucking much yet she claims no one else makes her feel like Frank. But she’s wrong. Mick,” Ian stops talking and looks at him, his fingers twisting around Mickey’s hair. “Mick, I love you. I don’t need time to think about us.”

Mickey looks down, not saying anything for a long time. Ian moves his hand and runs his finger across Mickey’s cheek, nervously, waiting for a response. Mickey looks up after what feels like a lifetime and pulls Ian in for a kiss that takes Ian’s breath away. He pulls away and stares into Ian’s eyes. “What you and I have- makes me feel free.”

Ian’s face hurts he’s grinning so much. He goes to pull Mickey in for another kiss but Mickey stops him.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I'm in. I'm all in.”

#shameless #shameless fanfiction #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #my stories #my fics

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