MICKEY.

MICHAELAMickey PIRAS THIRTY THREE YEARS OLD. — mechanic, adventurer

[greasemcnkey]

⸻ michaela "MICKEY" piras

leave me where the light pours down through the trees like rain. let it wash over me like a flood. let it ease my pain. let it drown me.

⸻ biography. - connections. - playlist. - pinterest. - study. - visuals.

⸻ STATS

Full Name: Michaela Lily Piras

Nickname: Mickey

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 33

Birthdate: August 3rd, 1991

Zodiac sign: Leo

Orientation: Bisexual

Residency: Bleeding Hearts Springs

Length of residency: Since 1991 till 2013, returned 2021

Occupation: Mechanic at Honest Auto Shop, former Mountaineer

⸻ RELATIONSHIPS

Mother: Isabella Piras

Father: Dominic Piras

Siblings: Samantha Rose Piras (b. 1988), Judith Iris Piras (b. 1995)

Pets: Golden Retriever named Cooper (b. 2010)

⸻ SUMMARY

Born in Springs, Mickey grew up in town with her two sisters and parents. She was the troublemaker of the three kids and was known around town as the girl who'd get herself in trouble for the sake of harmless fun. She was a clever kid, she just never had the patience to stick to a book so while her sisters focused on their studies, she helped her dad out at the Honest Auto Shop and learned to love fixing cars. With time, it became obvious she wouldn't leave for college but when both her sisters left and her friends all moved on to bigger, better things Mickey felt lost. Eventually, she packed her bags and the money she earned working with her father and decided to see the world. It wasn't long until she discovered a passion for mountaineering and she joined a touring company. For years she was (literally) on top of the world, becoming a mountaineering expedition leader until at the end of 2020 her team got into an accident. She lost some of her closest friends that day and was forced into rehabilitation. Grief and recovery send her back to her hometown but the trauma of it made her stay and become the local mechanic. She's been back in town since and slowly trying to recover but it doesn't matter how much time passes, she still feels guilty for making it out that day when some didn't.

⸻ STUDY

summary: At first glance, Mickey might seem like the most carefree and breezy person in any crowd. She's attentive, snarky, and always up for whatever idea might be suggested when she isn't the one coming up with trouble to get into herself. She beams with grounded confidence and it's hard to outwit her. And while she doesn't shy away from conversation, she is an exceptionally good listener, never inserting herself when it isn't necessary but always trying to read between the lines. However, below the surface, she is a lot more complicated. Her confidence masks many insecurities she's collected over the years and while she makes others comfortable to open up to her, she has a hard time returning the favor which alienates some people over time. Those who stick around gain a very loyal friend who will fight for them whenever necessary and show up no matter what. Although she might seem carefree, she carries a lot of guilt with her, survivor's guilt to be specific but she doesn't talk about it much, it just comes to haunt her when she's at her weakest and that's when she tends to isolate herself. In her daily life, she is extremely active and hardworking. She rarely just sits down and lets herself breathe in an attempt to keep her thoughts occupied.

[sixstringsorrow-deactivated2025]

Ryland's laughter didn't often get described as 'booming', but that's precisely what Mickey got when she dropped her voice to mimic his own. It wasn't that she was bad, but rather that she pegged him so darn well that he couldn't help but hear himself in it. It must have been part of the territory, being someone's best friend for this long came with certain perks, after all. "I don't think I get royalties for that," he admitted, shrugging it off. "But I'll let you in on a bigger secret. These days, they make these devices where you can put all your music on your phone, so you don't even have to use CDs."

He looked over the truck's dashboard, pretending he was inspecting it for any kind of mistake. After a minute, he shrugged and rested his arm on the back of the seats. "We both know my job was always to stand there and hold the flashlight, Mick, I was never going to be the one fixing shit. I figured you'd tell me what we were testing, or this was all some sort of ploy to get me all alone on the edge of town so you can finally execute your murder plot."

[greasemcnkey]

“What?” Her head snapped in his direction. “You don’t? So what am I driving out of town for every single time something new drops?” Blowing a raspberry, her gaze shifted back onto the road as she murmured to herself while he started lecturing her on modern miracles. “Unbelievable.” Nodding along, she held up her index finger in his vicinity. “Stop making good points because they are lost on me. And you know why?” Giving him a quick sideways glance, she nodded once but didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Correct. Cause I’m a sentimental gal. I wanna keep stuff. I want it collecting dust so that in twenty years I can pull it out of a box and swipe my hand across it.” Mickey had always been that way. She loved her CDs, her Polaroid photos, her postcards. Anything to encapsulate a moment and then hold it. But it was especially the case with anything involving Ryland. With their friendship enduring so many miles between them, he wasn’t someone she could physically grasp. He was a voice on the phone, a smiling face hugged by a picture frame, and words written on a card, sent from halfway across the world. So instead of having him close, she settled for anything close to him until they’d see each other again. Although none of it came close to the butterflies his booming laughter could cause when he sat right next to her.

“Actually, your job was to just stand there and keep me company cause you always got distracted holding the flashlight. I think enough time has passed for me to finally tell you, you were an awful assistant.” Chuckling, the sound of the signal light rhythmically indicating a right turn overlapped with his words as she rolled over the bend, slowly driving down a gravel road right between two fields. “Well, I did want you alone on the edge of town but not for any murderous plans. No, no.” Stopping the truck, she put her hand on his headrest, smiling at him as she leaned in ever so slightly, her voice dropping to somewhat a calm whisper. “You should probably buckle in for this one, Ry, ‘cause we are testing the brakes.” And with a roar of the engine, the truck surged forward as her hand flew back to the steering wheel, with dust chasing them as she sped them down the country road, they must have resembled a brown cloud from afar.

[flamesandfahrenheit]

↦ closed starter  / mickey piras @greasemcnkey ↦ location: the velvet stag

"Thank god you're here," Winnie said as she looped her arm through Mickey's. "There's a couple guys over there who have not stopped making eyes at me, and I promise you I went on a date with one of their older brothers a few weeks ago and I'm very much not interested in dating a twenty-two year old college drop out. I may need reinforcements à la fake girlfriend."

Resting her head on Mickey's shoulder for a beat, Winnie jerked it upward and pointed toward the ceiling of the bar. "Hey, didn't that super cute guy you call your best friend write this one? I feel like I saw him post something about it a while back when this artist released it. It's good. How is he, by the way? Still depressingly single?"

[greasemcnkey]

The speed with which Mickey’s head spun around to glare at the guys Winnie had mentioned could potentially be neck-snapping. Gently pulling her closer by their looped arms. She recognized them immediately, it was impossible not to know people from around town, even though they weren’t her usual crowd. They weren’t bad kids, they were just, well, kids. “They can’t help themselves. You’re by far the most interesting thing that has happened to this town in a really long time.” Turning her gaze away from the group, she grinned at the other woman. “Come on, fake girlfriend, let me buy you a drink.”

She was about to guide them towards a table when her head snapped upward, mirroring Winnie, as if she was looking for something up in the beams just to realize she heard the song playing. “Oh, yeah. He did.” At the mention of Ryland, her smile softened for a beat before it turned into a little mischievous grin. “You saw him post, huh?” Nudging her, she motioned for her to take a seat while chuckling. “He’s good, he’s in town, actually. You should meet him, then you can ask him if he’s still depressingly single yourself. Or you know-” she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “- just ask him out. I’m sure he’d be your type. He’s everyone’s type.”

[natashatrace]

MONICA BARBARO as EMMA BRUNNER FUBAR (2023 - )

[ofmourningdoves]

Paperwork is always a bore. Sitting at the desk in Eternal Rest all day was agony, Missy longing for the weight of a wrench in her delicate hands, the smell of motor oil clinging to her hair the way it always does after an afternoon with Mickey. However, time always seems to tick by slower on those days, molasses dripping off a chilled spoon. Nails chewed on, her foot tap-tap-tapping against the cool linoleum until she was free.

Now, honest auto shop feels like...well, not a second home, that would be the Old Mill, but something akin to that. Learning how to work on cars was easy enough, intuitive for someone who loves working with her hands, but having a proper place to actually practice? A blessing. Trying to work on that old motorcycle in her dad's garage filled with aging medical equipment left Missy walking on egg shells. Plus, not much else filled her with such a rush than working on Betsy, green with splotches of rust that never failed to make her smile.

Well, maybe something else gives her a rush. A true, genuine grin stretches across her lips at the offer, Missy glancing over her shoulder from the hood of the truck. "Y'know I can't say no to a High Life if you're offerin'," she replies with a quiet chuckle, glancing back to their beloved Betsy, using the wrench to tighten up a valve. "Might take a little more than somethin' strong to help us outta this one, though, Mick. She's lookin' a little worse for wear."

[greasemcnkey]

The fridge shook as she pulled on the handle, the bottles gently clink-clanking against each other as they got raddled by the movement. “Aye aye, two ‘high lifes’ coming up!” The bottles were cold and wet from condensation as she reached inside, grabbing them with one hand and letting them dangle between her fingers. It was only when she turned back around that she noticed at some point the light stopped pouring in through the open door of the shop and was replaced by fading but once surely vibrant colors coloring the sky. Chems trails drew little patterns in the distance and something about the bright light within the shop, with Missy still focused on the car and the rustling of the fields outside of town painted such a serene picture, she wasn’t even surprised time had passed so quickly. Good company would do that to you.

When they were younger, long before Mickey had even left town to go on her adventures, she never would’ve predicted herself feeling so content in Missy’s presence. She had always been a nice girl, certainly a good friend to her sister but back then they were all just kids. Sometimes it felt as if growing up really put them on the same path again for a reason.

Taking the few short steps back to the truck, Mickey was patting herself down for something to open the bottles with but had nothing on her. God knows using a wrench had gone poorly enough times for her to stop attempting it. “Do you have your lighter on you?” The question came out just as she patted the cool metal of the car above the tire. “Don’t listen to her, you’re beautiful, Bets, all the rust has nothing on you.” Leaning her hip against the same spot, she looked back under the hood. “We might have to order those parts after all, I don’t think the valve being loose was the issue, it just might be the valve. I don’t know how long it would take to get here though. Might make a road trip out of it if you’re up for it.”

[sixstringsorrow-deactivated2025]

Ryland rolled his eyes playfully at the accusation, but he'd known it would only be a matter of minutes before Mickey got the jab in. Then, before he knew it, she was unzipping her overalls and something inside of him was experiencing a hardwire failure. He'd seen Mickey do this before, they'd gone skinny dipping as teenagers for fuck's sake... and somehow here he was, finding himself completely knocked off-kilter by something so goddamn innocent.

If this was a movie, it'd be the scene where the female lead walked into the bar where everything went slow-motion and some badass rock and roll song played. Ryland didn't know how it happened, but he could almost swear he was living in that exact moment, but it was just Mickey and her work overalls sliding down her shoulders before dropping down her legs. Christ on a candlestick, he thought to himself, how fuckin' long has it been since I've gotten laid? That had to be it, that had to be what was making him get so hot and bothered by his best friend doing something so innocent.

Before he could get caught drooling on the spot, Ryland shut the door and made his way to the passenger side. He flipped his baseball cap backwards as he walked, raking his fingers through his hair to help reset his brain. Slipping into the passenger, Ry was opening his mouth to respond to her statement before the radio roared to life, the familiar tune instantly greeting his ears like the sound of a child's voice welcoming a father home. He considered briefly teasing Mickey for the fact that she'd just been listening to one of his songs, but instead, he pointed to where the CD sat halfway ejected from the slot. "Please tell me you're not still burning CDs off Limewire. We talked about that, it's illegal," he teased. "I told you I can't bail you out of federal prison, Mick Jagger."

[greasemcnkey]

The car door shut next to her and she anticipated hitting the pedal to the floor the second Ryland got inside but then her eyes followed him through the windshield window and her train of thought got lost. It was such a brief moment, she could’ve missed it if she had blinked twice but she watched his fingers run through his hair as he adjusted his cap and he transformed into someone she didn’t know. Someone whose hair her fingers were itching to run through too. Someone who wasn’t supposed to be viewed like that by her. At that moment she didn’t see the boy she used to push into the creek, she saw a man who was so breathtakingly beautiful, that it caught her off guard. She was rarely able to see him through the fog of childhood affection, or maybe she didn’t allow herself to do so but when she caught a glimpse, ho boy. Exhaling, she groaned under her breath, eyes snapping away before she shifted in her seat uncomfortably and gripped the steering wheel as if her life depended on it.

The radio was almost her saving grace but then she imagined he could be grinning from ear to ear right now and that would be her undoing for sure. So instead of indulging, she reached across the middle console and tossed a CD case into his lap. “Original EP, you monkey. I want you getting your royalties but if you keep ruining my fun by - ” Her voice dipped lowered to a mocking attempt of imitating his, “- keeping you out of harm's way and not bailing me out with the cops-” before she continued in her usual pitch. “-I might change my mind, pirate them all, and make my own mixtape. At least that way I won’t have to switch CDs constantly.” Reaching behind her, she buckled in and then immediately hit the gas, rolling out of the shop and onto the main street. A rearview glance presented the shop in all its glory, with the neon sign still glowing, roses still adorning the walls. The good thing about it being the first business on the street was that you were instantly out of town and as buildings were quickly replaced by fields, she rested her arm against the still rolled-down window as a small content smile tugged at her lips. “You didn’t ask what parts of the truck we are testing.”

[greasemcnkey]

status: closed starter for Missy @ofmourningdoves

location: honest auto shop

Betsy had sat underneath her tarp all tall and mighty, waiting for another session to be started. With the days getting longer, the weather being nicer and her spirits running high, Mickey was practically buzzing the entire day. It was one thing to spend your day fixing cars on a crunch. She didn’t want to leave anyone hanging so she did her best and she did it fast, everyone who trusted her with their vehicle knew she was capable of wonders. However, at the end of the day, those wonders drove back home and the chapter was closed - but this one was an ongoing adventure. So when the afternoon rolled around, the shop closed and the space filled with the smell of pizza and the sound of Missy’s voice, Mickey found herself oddly at peace.

Their little Betsy project became something she was always looking forward to. Missy knew her stuff, was clever and it was an oddly fun experience to have someone around to bounce ideas off of. Back when she worked on cars with her dad, he was the one telling her what to do and Mickey did it. When he started teaching her, he asked questions and she found the answers. Now her daily work was a solo gig but this? This was fun. But even fun could be tiring.

Sighing, Mickey handed her wrench to the other woman and pushed away from the truck, walking over to the fridge to scan the rows of bottles neatly stacked inside. "Are you thirsty?" Glancing at Missy over her shoulder, she rubbed her temple and smiled. "Actually, let me rephrase that. What do you want to drink? We are fully stocked. Maybe these juices will get our own juices flowing and we'll get unstuck."

[sixstringsorrow-deactivated2025]

There was something inside him, some piece of his heart that Ryland wasn't entirely sure was real, that begged to be heard the moment Mickey spoke. Yes, you are, it seemed to say, his face pulling toward hers as he watched her come to life again, shutting the hood and make her way over to the driver's side door. Whatever it was, he'd gotten used to pushing it down throughout most of his life, not wanting to unpack it or have it grow any louder if it was going to ruin whatever they had going. "Oh hell yeah," he said with a nod, wrapping his hand around hers where it held the keys. "But we both know I'm more of a passenger princess. You drive, I want to fiddle with the radio." He gently jerked his chin toward the car before heading toward the driver's door. He opened it and bowed slightly, hand gesturing for her to climb in. "Plus, I haven't had my life put in danger enough lately, and we both know that's practically a crime if I'm going to call myself a friend of Mickey Piras."

[greasemcnkey]

Rolling her eyes in amusement, she wiggled her fingers inside his grasp until the keys could jingle again and her hand was free, instantly missing the comforting warmth of his touch but that wasn’t something she was willing to acknowledge. “Don’t be coy, princess, you just wanna see how many of your songs they are playing.” To be frank, so did she. When he packed his bags and went on his big adventure to Nashville, she had no doubt he’d make it big. Mickey watched him grow into his own and always encouraged him to chase his dreams so when he actually reached for them, it didn’t matter how many hours she had spent crying, rattled to the core by the fact that he’d get into a car and she’d stay in his rearview mirror. It didn’t matter because eventually, his voice would greet her through the radio. At least that was the idea back then, instead, it was his words. Always filling the cab of her truck or the kitchen in the morning as she made breakfast. And if the radio station didn’t play one of his songs, she skipped until she found one that did. Watching him approach, she stepped aside to let him open the car door for her. Always the gentleman. “Thanks.” And even though he waited, her hand flew to the zipper of her work overalls. There was no way she could get in there with the oil stains. Unzipping the front, she shimmied out of the arms, pushed it passed her hips but then just wiggled her legs until the dark blue fabric pooled at her feet just as she laughed at his remark. “Please, don’t give me any ideas.” Picking up her work uniform, she quickly tossed it at her work cart, now in her jeans and t-shirt, and then jumped into the truck. “We all just got you back, can you imagine the mob they’d send after me if I’d ruffle your perfectly- ” As she spoke, she turned on the engine, and with it, the radio came to life. Loud. So loud, in fact, it cut her off, and booming through the cab was one of Ryland’s songs. With the speed of lightning, her index finger made contact with the eject button and a perfectly silver disk could be heard slowly sliding out in the silence that followed.

[connell-waldrn]

MONICA BARBARO as Sophie Wilder in AT MIDNIGHT (2023)

[sixstringsorrow-deactivated2025]

↦ closed starter  / mickey piras @greasemcnkey ↦ location: honest auto shop

Ryland had been home for about a month, and he'd seen more of Mickey in that month than he had in years since. Sure, they talked on the phone and texted and swapped postcards and the occasional letter now and then, but no amount of FaceTime could count for the real, actual face time... and he hadn't realized just how much he'd missed his best friend lately. It was even more evident now that his grandpa was gone, with their familiar farmhouse suddenly having a gaping whole left behind in his place.

His grandma knew he had to get out, knew it better than Ryland himself, so she was always shooing him off on some errand or making up something she needed him to go take care of. Today, she'd flat out told him he was getting on her nerves and said he should go see Mickey. Technically, she said 'Why don't you go bother Mickey, kiddo? I have to bake some cookies for a bake sale and the last thing I need is you pilfering them out from under me...' but he wasn't taking it personal.

So here he was: waving at Mickey's dad as he rounded the corner of a truck, finding Mickey exactly where he'd said he would. Ryland hesitated briefly before interrupting her, knowing just how much he hated being interrupted when writing, but this was different. Slipping into the spot next to her, Ryland nudged her hip with his own. "What's the prognosis, doc? Will she pull through?"

[greasemcnkey]

It seemed at some point her days had dulled. Mickey’s father accompanied her to the shop, they chatted about nothing in particular and then he complained about his back and went on his merry way back home. Their soft conversation was replaced by the sound of Cooper snoring in the corner on his blanket, his snout seemingly becoming greyer each day but still so much life in his brown eyes. And when the tools started to tremble in her hands from a long day’s work, she packed her bag and stopped at The Front Porch. Rinse and repeat the next morning. Today seemed to follow the pattern, her father had already complained twice about his back, so she knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d put on his jacket and leave which was motivation enough for her to practically crawl into the hood of the truck to finish it up. She loved this job. Fixing cars was like solving a puzzle without the cover, just a small challenge each day to keep the boredom away.

Mickey had just stepped away from the car when she heard shuffling next to her but there was no need to look up, the gentle bump of his hip told her everything she needed to know. Just when she thought her life was stuck on a loop, Ryland Jennings returned to town. It would be a lie if she said she hadn’t hoped he’d just show up one day, all smug about how it was about damn time they catch up in person, not via screen or another postcard. But the circumstances that brought him back around were so grim, that she could've held off on their reunion for a bit longer if it meant old Jennings was still around. He was a good man, always beat her at cards but boy, was he charming while doing so. She missed him. Guess there was always a Jennings man to be missed around these parts. Crossing her arms in front of her, she mirrored his movement and bumped his hip with hers, a small proud smile tugging at her lips as she looked over the truck one more time, trained eyes looking for something she might have missed with a hawk-like concentration. “Oh yeah, she’s perfect.” The words came out breathy as she unfurled her arms and closed the hood of the car, gently brushing the metal with her fingertips before she finally looked at Ry. “What do you say?” Taking a few steps to the side, Mickey reached through the rolled-down window into the driver's cab and pulled a set of keys out of the engine to dangle them in front of his chest. "Do you want to be the judge of that and take her out for a spin?"