Photoset reblogged from how does that make YOU feel with 2,980 notes
Mickey’s journey is one that I absolutely adore. He goes from cowering in complete fear near a police box, and clinging desperately to his girlfriend - to confidently standing up to the Daleks and parting with his new bff Big Scary Gun while defending all of reality. The young man who couldn’t imagine navigating London without Rose’s companionship decides to play a few rounds of universal musical chairs, living in a whole other world by himself.
And his relationship with the Doctor changes radically. At first, he yells at Rose that the Doctor’s “an alien! He’s..he’s a thing!” And the Doctor explicitly states that Mickey the Idiot isn’t invited into the TARDIS. But by series 4, he and the alien (who once thought Rose’s silly little boyfriend’s name was ‘Ricky’ - a stupid ape of a tin dog) gladly fist-bump like beloved frat brothers. I like to think that when Ten was dying, a glimpse at Mickey wasn’t just an added bonus to his Martha visit; Mr. Smith held immense importance all his own.
Team B made me love Mickay Smiff ridic amounts.
Source: flapperorslapper
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John chose this most tense of moments to saunter over and nudge Ianto in the side with his elbow. “What did I tell you?” he said, clicking the mint against his front teeth before swallowing it whole. “I was right. I’m always ri-“
Ianto turned and punched him square in the face.
“I get the feeling,” Jack said with considerable amusement, apparently addressing Owen, “that’s been quite a long time coming.”
John reeled backwards on his heels, clutching a bloody nose, but didn’t actually fall.
“You should probably not knock him out,” Jack said with another gleeful smile.
Ianto, however, was ignoring him. He followed up the punch by seizing John’s face with both hands and kissing him hard through the veil of blood that had obscured his mouth already.
“That, on the other hand,” Jack said, making a face, “I’m not so sure about.”
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“I used to date her parents in the Seventies. We stayed in touch.” Jack shrugged. “Also I was at the ungrateful little bitch’s Christening, which was an eventful occasion let me tell you …”
“You dated both her parents?”
“Yuh-huh.”
“At the same time?”
“It was the Seventies.” Jack started up the stairs.
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I hate this song,” Mickey growled. It was entirely automatic. If someone had played this song while stabbing him in the chest he’d have thought first God I hate this fucking song before he got around to the I appear to be dying part.
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“Hey,” Owen objected, “I’ve been alive thirty seconds and I’m already being heckled by a machine.”
“Welcome to Torchwood,” Jack said, unconsciously mimicking not only Ianto’s delivery but his expression too. “That will be all, Mister Smith. Thank you.”
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“No,” Mickey said. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”
“Yes,” Ianto said again, simply. “Aren’t you?”
“Monsters live in the dark,” John said with acute unconcern. “Horrible things come out of the darkness.” He paused for a long time and raised his eyebrows at Ianto with a half-smirk. “Not going to say it?”
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It was obvious that whatever Mickey wanted, John wanted to play Hide And Shoot Someone’s Brains Out in the motel corridors.
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“Don’t anthropomorphise the bloody motel!” Mickey snapped.
“Don’t use words you can’t spell,” John muttered.
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Torchwood’s Global Investigation Team, Team B, disputed of title and small in number, stood stock still and as one man stared mutely at what lay beyond the wooden motel door labelled with the sign for infinity.
John broke the silence first. “Fuck’s sake,” he said.
“I don’t believe this,” Mickey groaned.
“Are we going through?” Ianto pressed. The identical corridor, six doors long, dimly-lit, wallpapered in the same ubiquitous ugly green flock, stretched out in front of them and appeared to hit either a dead end or a T-junction at the opposite end.
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There is a wall.” John said this with the careful precision of a society lady complaining about a fly in her soup, and gestured with his walkie-talkie hand to the darkness whence they’d come. He raised his eyebrows at Mickey and Ianto and gave them an unamused smile. “I don’t … think … there was a wall there before. I’m very observant when it comes to walking through solid objects.
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It just said beep,” John pointed out, slouching against the nearest wall. “That is the most useless robot in the universe. In the whole universe. It said ‘beep’.
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“I got you chocolate,” he announced to the room, casting the half-melted Mars bar onto the bed.
They stared at it him.
“What? What?” John demanded, annoyed. “I got you chocolate.”
They stared some more.
“WHAT?”
It was Mickey who answered him, in that tone he had. “You’re … you have … there is blood all over you.” He didn’t bother to say ‘again’. John knew the ‘again’ was there, it didn’t need voicing. Mickey had ‘again’ on his face.
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