The way people describe Black makes me think he's supposed to be like a s1 Mickey Milkovich. But nobody can top Mickey except Ian Gallagher ofc.
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The way people describe Black makes me think he's supposed to be like a s1 Mickey Milkovich. But nobody can top Mickey except Ian Gallagher ofc.
Mickey was so nauseous that even the sight of food had his throat tight. His stomach was flipping relentlessly, his hands shaking, his back all sweaty. Each individual cut and pressed ravioli took him double the amount of time to craft, counting for the minutes Mickey spent stretched over the sink by the window, sucking in cold, calming air.
He was doing it on purpose -- making dinner, feeling sick. Mickey was the one to reach out and invite Lucas over in the first place, he was the one to suggest something intimate, quiet. It sounded so perfect in the moment. Everything felt easier when Lucas was right there, looking him in the face. Mickey felt confident enough standing under the bright light of Lucas’ smile to think he could handle absolutely anything. Dinner was, supposedly, a piece of cake.
But now, with the clock ticking like an asshole above him instead, and his clothes all damp, and his house all hot, Mickey was regretting everything. Lucas was going to come in and see a mess. Dishes were everywhere, pots and pans piled high in the sink. The sauce Mickey was making had splashed onto the counter and the backsplash and on to him, and there was no time to do anything about any of it.
It was already ten past seven. Lucas should’ve been there already. He would be there any second. Mickey just didn’t have time. His anxiety wouldn’t let him forget it.
Mickey pushed through the best he could, past the nausea and the heat of the stove, and he kept on crimping the edges of his pasta with far too much strength. He kept going and going, sprinkling down flower, rolling out shapes, stuffing, until that fateful knock on the door sounded.
Then, all at once, it all stopped. The sweat, the nausea, the heat, the anxiety, the asshole clock -- they all stopped. Mickey felt cool. Calm. Excited, even. Who cared about a little mess, anyway?
He opened the door only a few seconds after Lucas knocked, and the first thing he did was make light.
“Help,” he said, smiling wimpishly. “I’ve been attacked by tomatoes.”
@keepingupwiththeshores
If only I had a Minnie Mouse skirt.... 🤔
I've only watched a few clips of Ian and Mickey from this season, and even I'm asking myself how people think Mickey is ooc. He's not. Y'all just don't know Mickey ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Zodiac Hills I'm willing to die on:
Mickey Milkovich is an Aries.
Eliot Waugh is a Libra.
All that I want to come from the new season of Shameless is for someone to make a supercut of all of Mickey's scenes and upload the video to youtube so I can watch it
🙏🏻 Amen 🙏🏻
Mickey looks so good in his white suit!
What did Cameron Monaghan do to gain this kind of power? What does he have on John Wells? The world may never know...