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roskirambles · 8 months ago

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Horror Movie of the day: Dracula (1931)

The 1897 Bram Stoker's novel, a well known literary classic: the nefarious vampire who comes from beyond the Carpathians to take over England by settling in Cairfax Abbey, London. A blood eating fiend who is drawn in by the virginal Mina Murray, to then be confronted by her fiancé Jonthan Harker and Dr. Abraham Van Helsing. So when Tod Browning was hired to adapt it to the silver screen, from its theatre adaptation nonetheless, the end result became transformative in the world of cinema… forever.

Now, it's easy for modern audiences to be desensitized to its lack of violence and campy theatrics, with a performance from Bela Lugosi as the count that has been parodied to death and then some. And yet, over 90 years after it was seen for the first time it's still considered as THE iconic interpretation of the vampire upon which Halloween costumes are based on and from which many lines not found in the novel are imitated. Why is that? The key word is charisma.

Behind the obvious camp, there's something performative if not outright uncanny about the count. Yes, a 6 feet tall vampire who is always staring and cups the sky in his hand like a poorly directed Shakespeare villain can come across as a tad goofy, but he thoroughly sticks out and it's hard to look everywhere else when someone acts so strangely and somehow makes everyone start following his pace, simultaneously a relic of the time yet still captivating, magnetic even.

A pragmatic adaptation that simplifies the story (cutting out Lucy Westenra's suitors entirely, cutting Jonathan's trip Trannsylvania out) this film keeps most of the essentials about the book while optimizing the screen time, while changing the angle to emphasize the rivalry between Dracula and Van Helsing. The end result is moody and atmospheric, with some admittedly hooky effects but hitting just right at many moments.

It's only natural for a movie still worth watching.

Yes, I emphasized Lugosi's performance during the main body of review, but that was honestly warranted: a movie named after its antagonist lives or dies by that performance specifically, and the classically trained Hungarian honestly knocked it out of the park to the point he codified what vampires look like for decades, only horror film legend Cristopher Lee ever coming remotely close to the same leve of iconicity. But reducing the movie's success to JUST Legosi's performance is undermining the effort of the rest of the cast, with Edward Van Sloan's performance as Abraham van Helsing playing a great foil to the count, or Dwight Frye's compelling range as Renfield really selling the madness and tragedy of his character.

But above all, Tod Browning's directorial achievements in what was effectively a new field.

Sure, horror films existed before this one, so did Dracula adaptations even. But this movie had a challenge past ones didn't have to deal with: making horror work with sound. An herculean task he understood better than some people might give him credit for; while archaic to modern eyes with it's nigh total absence of music (including the now awkward use of Tchaikovsky's Swan's Lake as the opening credits theme), finding things like the sound creaking doors used to build tension THIS early in cinema history isn't as self explanatory as it might seem. It required an intuition as to how the soundscape of a situation instinctively affects the emotional state of the viewer.

That isn't to mention that for how shoddy those bats on strings look, the atmosphere of the film still manages to hit the mark. Even fairly goofy facial expressions can be rendered creepy under the right lighting conditions.

But then, there's some other matters about this film, like how the changes to the book have affected the perception of many characters (hitting Mina the hardest by making her JUST the damsel in distress), the fact Lugosi was not the first choice for Dracula and had to fight for it(showing that even back then you had an internal politics conflict in Hollywood), or the existence of a score which was added in later releases and adds to the film's atmosphere.

...or the fact it's actually TWO separate films from from the same script.

As dubbing and putting subtitles to films wasn't a common practice during the 30's, to export this movie to other markets a completely separate version in a different language would have to be made for each. And since Mexico is the immediate neighboring country, a Spanish version was shot at nights on the same sets as the English one, helmed by George Melford.

The end result is a very similar yet also decidedly different movie, lasting over half an hour more, addressing plot points that are either glossed over or shortly talked about, and having more ambitious cinematography, but with acting that doesn't quite match the overall level seen in Brown's effort. Specially poor Carlos Villarias, who was mandated to imitate Lugosi as close as possible and wasn't allowed to make the character his own, remembered only as a pale imitation of the so called original.

Still, a window into two different takes from the same script is a rarity in the world of cinema and well worth looking into.

#horror movies #horror films #classic film #universal monsters #tod browning #bela lugosi #david manners #helen chandler #dwight frye #edward van sloan #dracula #dracula 1931 #roskirambles #carlos villarias #george melford

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squarebracketsmileyface · 2 years ago

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I have no clue if anyone has offered up this song before. (Or if you're still taking them) But Des Rocs - Nothing Personal Reminds me Sorry, Its locked. Specifically how Alex treats Jay. (I hope you see my vision)

Oooooo i haven't heard of this song before. It's fun. I'm definitely still taking songs, i'm always taking songs, i fucking love getting new songs for sorry it's locked lol. its the best way to think about the fic while i can't actually write it for whatever reason.

The way the dude sounds like he's losing his mind as the song progresses is so perfect honestly, because yeah, Alex is slowly losing his mind.

Okay, shitty sleep deprived lyric analysis whoooo. Enjoy lmao, if this makes no sense blame my going to sleep at 4am last night.

I found you sleeping in my coffin Pale white and in your favourite party dress I start to feel a little nauseous Bloody tears, they are falling as I wept

Okay, but like, this whole thing makes it sound like the singer is a vampire, right? Alex feeling like he's undead. He's dead but his body just keeps going.

The first line is like when Alex woke up after he and Jay had sex at his house. He woke up to find Jay in his bed (i know he didn't actually wake up in the morning with Jay in his bed, he found Jay in the laundry closet, but he can have woken up in the middle of the night or something and saw Jay), in his coffin if we're going by the whole undead thing, which i am, and he feels like he must have drained Jay dry (of energy not actual blood, but you know) hence the 'paleness,' and he starts to realize just how badly he's fucked up by doing all the things he refused to in college.

And it makes him feel sick and really upset because in the back of his mind he starts to realize he's going to have to drive Jay away, otherwise it'll cause all sorts of issues.

You could use a little action Run away and lead a life without consequence Reaching for a book of matches Strike a light and you'll see the real mess that I am

Alex want's Jay to leave of his own accord, he wants Jay to take action and leave so that he doesn't have to kill him, and if he makes Jay think he's making the decision to leave on his own he's more likely to stick with it. If Alex just told him to leave, Jay would more likely try even harder to get answers and figure out what's happening.

Alex is going to show Jay just how nasty he can be, just what a mess of a person he can be, in hopes that it'll scare Jay away and keep him safe.

I swear it's nothing personal (X8)

Alex is desperately trying to remind himself that it's not anything to do with a personal dislike for Jay (it's literally the exact opposite lol), he is doing everything to keep Jay safe, and if Jay was anyone else he'd have done the same to try and save them (as long as he liked them the same way he liked Jay)

I'm gonna take you home 'Til the morning comes I swear it's nothing personal I swear that it is nothing personal

Self explanatory, he took Jay home and they had sex at his house, in his bed, for the first time. And then in the morning he did a full 180 from being lovely to being a dick, but it wasn't personal. it's not because he hates Jay or anything like that and he's desperate to remind himself of that and prove himself.

I, I see your collar bone And wanna lose control I swear it's nothing personal I swear that it is nothing personal

Gay. Lmao. Sorry, anyway, yeah, Alex saw Jay again in that parking lot and he just wanted to, like, let things go back to how they used to be even just for a little bit. He wanted to 'lose control' and just ignore all the stuff he's meant to be doing (killing Jay) to do something enjoyable instead (fucking Jay), and that 'loss' of control would actually be him taking control of the situation, and taking control of Jay again, like back in college.

This time when Alex swears it's nothing personal he's doing it in a desperate attempt to tell himself that it's not because he likes Jay, he's just pent up and frustrated and anyone would do. But it is personal. It is because it's Jay. He knows he'll have to kill him at some point, but he's trying desperately to find a reason not to do it yet.

I, I wanna drain you of the mourning I wanna tear away the shadows brick by brick I know you could've used a warning You thought I kissed you just to borrow some lipstick?

Alex hopes that taking Jay back to his house and having sex with him there will kind of make it so that Jay's less upset by having to make the decision to leave. Logically, he knows that's not how that works and fucking Jay at his house and in his bed just made it more painful for Jay to leave, because he finally got a taste of everything he'd been hoping he could one day have with Alex, but then again Alex isn't thinking straight, so.

Jay definitely could have used a warning when it came to everything Alex did, like, all the stuff the morning after, but Alex couldn't give him one. If Alex had given Jay a warning that he was going to be lovely to him and then turn a full 180, that would have worked against Alex's goal of making Jay hate him.

Also, the last line, about the lipstick, to me kinda sounds like the singer is saying that he didn't just kiss his partner for some stupid reason, like to borrow their lipstick. He kissed them for a real reason. Alex kissing Jay on the forehead and cheek and all that wasn't for no reason, Alex did it because he likes Jay and he knew that'd be the last chance he ever got to do that.

Go be a stranger at a party Reading lips across a room of empty space With a secret you keep guarded Like a funeral buries all our past mistakes

Again, Alex needing Jay to leave and hate him and become a stranger.

I swear it's nothing personal (X8)

I'm gonna take you home Until the morning comes I swear it's nothing personal I swear that it is nothing personal

I, I see your collar bone And wanna lose control I swear it's nothing personal I swear that it is nothing personal

I, I'm gonna take you home Unil the morning comes I swear it's nothing personal I swear that it is nothing personal

I, I see your collar bone And wanna lose control I swear it's nothing personal I swear that it is nothing personal

I... (X4)

I'm gonna take you home 'Til the morning comes I swear it's nothing personal I swear that it is nothing personal

I, I see your collar bone And wanna lose control I swear it's nothing personal I swear that it is nothing personal

I...

All repeated lyrics so same as above because i'm too tired to come up with anything else, i keep going to bed at 3am

#Sorry it took so long to get to this one lol #alex kralie #jay merrick #jaylex #marble hornets #marble hornets fanfic #marble hornets fanfiction #MH sorry its locked #lyric analysis i guess

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twisted-up-in-wonderland · 1 year ago

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Wait, are people actually saying that Jack is based on Rafiki?!

How about NO?!

Jack may be in the Savanaclaw dorm, but he has always been a bit of an oddball - all the way up to the fact that his home is not in the Sunset Savanna. He lives in the Shaftlands, which is how he is friends with Vil.

But we know from the hometown event of Leona (which hasn’t come out in the English servers - thank god for translators y’all are doing great work 😭) that, so far, all characters based on The Lion King are from the Sunset Savanna. Because the character revealed to be based on Zazu - Kifaji - is also located there.

Jack is based on a WOLF. Not a baboon. There is no question on that - his Signature Spell is literally “Unleash the Beast,” in which he becomes a giant wolf.

And there are no wolf characters in The Lion King, The Lion King 1 1/2, The Lion King II: Simba’s Pride, or The Lion Guard.

So the popular theory is that Jack was placed into Savanaclaw because he is a beastman and Yana decided that Savanaclaw was the dorm of the beastfolk. Which kind of tracks, as no beastfolk are shown in any other dorms. Even as faceless students. And yet, all the faceless Savanaclaw students are beastmen. If I’m remembering correctly at least.

As to who Jack is twisted from… the 4 theories I’ve heard are…

1) The big bad wolf: people like to think that Jack is based on the big bad wolf as a whole from numerous old Disney cartoons. They theorize that he is the big bad wolf as a whole - the character from all of the cartoons combined into one. He is THE big bad wolf, twisted.

2) The wolves from The Jungle Book that originally raised Mowgli: this is another one I’ve heard floating around, based on the fact that Jack seems to stick out because of his strong sense of moral justice. So even though the wolves in question were actually good guys and not villains - arguments say that’s why Jack is so nice. But the thing is, Jack still has dark void spells, meaning he is still twisted from a villainous character and is not a “good” character in the “bad” school like Kalim, Rook, and Silver - who all have light void spells.

3) The wolves from Beauty and the Beast: I’ve seen this theory thrown around less often, but often enough to mention it. This one seems a bit self explanatory, so I don’t have much to say tbh.

4) The Beast himself from Beauty and the Beast: This one is another I haven’t seen too often, but I do think it’s a pretty interesting idea. People are combining the idea that Jack’s Signature Spell is called “Unleash the Beast” and the fact that the Beast was technically a bad guy - and it wasn’t until he learned to be a better person through Belle that he finally started to change his fate. So he’s both a good and a bad person even within his original story, which may explain why Jack seems to be a nicer person than the other twisted characters - because he has more “good” even in his og “bad” character.

But RAFIKI?! Yeahhhhhh no. This also falls into the problem with theory #2 - Rafiki is a good guy. So if Jack was based on a good guy, he would have light void energy. And he does not. Jack is twisted from a villainous character. Whoever/whatever they/it may be.

I WILL say that the picture IS seeming to imply that Jack is based on Rafiki. Because in all other minor “villain” cards, the image on the left is of who they are twisted from and one on the right is the main villain from their story. When it is main “villains,” like Jamil or Idia, the image on the left is of the main villain and the image on the right is of a crony of the main villain - Iago for Jafar/Jamil and the Hydra for Hades/Idia.

So, based solely on that, Jack does seem to be based on Rafiki. And perhaps Yana is going to come out and say he is based on him.

But if that does happen?

I am going to be PISSED.

BECAUSE THAT MAKES NO SENSE.

... Ok we know that Jack is kinda the one holding the braincell in the 1st year group...

And I'm not calling Jack dumb...

But I highly doubt he's based off Rafiki

I think the paintings in the back are more associated with the dorms the guys are in than the characters themselves. I mean the Savanaclaw staff that the dorm leader holds DOES resemble Rafiki's... or more like the vibe cause Rafiki does carry around a stick

So maybe that's it

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #jack howl #twst jack #twst character analysis #twst theory #twisted wonderland analysis #twst character cards #twst jp

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hayatheauthor · 2 years ago

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How To Write And Create A Subplot

A subplot is an essential aspect of any book. It helps drive your story forward and hook your readers in with a compelling narrative. A good subplot raises the stakes for the main character by introducing side characters, creating plot twists, adding another dimension to the story or revealing information from the past or future.

However, if executed incorrectly subplots can overshadow your main plot and deviate from the heart of your story. Unsure how to create and execute a subplot? Here are some helpful tips to get you started!

Why Are Subplots Important?

A subplot is a narrative thread that supports the elements of your main plot. They often build conflict or shed light on a secondary character’s story. Subplots help you create multilevel narrative arcs and build complexity and depth.

Your readers certainly don’t need to know what your antagonists were doing while the protagonist underwent secluded training, but adding this subplot builds tension, heightens the stakes and easily portrays personality traits and character flaws. This is especially true for genres such as SFF or horror where your characters often don’t know their enemy’s plan until the last moment.

Subplots are often what make your readers connect with your characters and world-building. To put it simply, if Harry Potter was written without any subplots Rowling could have wrapped up the entire series in one book.

Types Of Subplots

It’s important for authors to branch out and implement more than one subplot in their manuscript. Sticking to one subplot can often result in a poor portrayal of an important moment or make an interesting arc fall flat. A simple way to avoid this is by combining different subplots when working on your manuscript.

Mirror Subplots

Mirror subplots are essentially a subplot that mirrors what your protagonist or antagonist is going through in order to illuminate their personality traits and how they dealt with said situation. A great example of a mirror subplot would be Sophie and Agatha’s dynamics during the first book of A School For Good and Evil.

Sophie and Agatha both start off with essentially the same introduction to characters like Tedros, the faculty, their roommates, etc. but while Sophie uses a negative outlook to harm those around her Agatha focuses more on a problem-solving approach.

Contrasting Subplot

A contrasting subplot is when a smaller character faces the same situation as your protagonist/antagonist but handles the situation differently. For example, a protagonist allowed themselves to be injured in order to safely evacuate a nearby citizen but an antagonist in a similar position used the civilian to shield themselves from the attack.

Contrasting subplots cannot exist unless both characters undergo the same situation, which is why it is important to plan this subplot out before executing it.

Complicating Subplot

Complicating subplots are the most common subplot used in literature. They’re pretty self-explanatory and involve a secondary character creating complications for the protagonist. This can be as simple as your love interest’s sister spreading gossip about the protagonist, or as complicated as a grand political scheme created to turn the protagonist’s allies against them.

Romantic Subplot

Romantic subplots are often confused with romance written as a subgenre. The difference between the two is simple—a book with romance as a subgenre simply includes romantic themes, however, a romantic subplot uses romance to deviate from the main plot.

For example, if your protagonist left their usual environment to attend an event with your love interest for a couple of chapters, that counts as a romantic subplot. However, a character simply having a romantic moment does not constitute as a subplot.

Things To Keep In Mind When Creating A Subplot

Now that I’ve divulged all of the facts associated with writing a subplot, here are some personal tips writers should take into consideration when creating a subplot.

A Subplot Is NOT Its Own Story

This is an important factor many writers often forget when creating a subplot. Subplots are meant to tie into the main plot and move the story forward. They are supposed to be an arc in your story, not a story of their own.

Subplots are a great way to foreshadow events, drop hints, reveal character traits, etc. however, you need to consider whether or not your manuscript needs to have these characters. Your deuteragonist’s tragic past with the antagonist might make for a good story, but you could probably summarise those events within one chapter.

The same can be said for past love interests, ex-friends, training arcs and backstory arcs for minor characters. These factors would all propel your plot forward, however, incorrectly implementing them can ruin your reader’s immersion and deviate from the actual plot.

If you’re unsure whether or not your subplot should be included in your novel, take the time to consider these few questions:

Does your subplot help your protagonist accomplish their main goal? Or does it drastically deviate them from their initial purpose?

Does this subplot introduce a new character, a new side to an old character, or the ‘true’ version of a seemingly good/bad character?

Would your character be unable to attain their long-term goal without this subplot?

Would your world-building, character development, or a certain aspect of the main plot feel confusing if not for this subplot?

If your answer to these was yes, then you probably have a valid subplot on your hands. If not, then you should genuinely consider questions and take into account why you want to include this subplot, to begin with. If your answer is something along the lines of ‘it has so and so scene/dynamic which I really enjoyed or think the readers will like’ then your manuscript would probably do better without that subplot.

Create Conclusive Arcs

Unlike your main plot, subplots are supposed to have a start and finish. They need to have a complete arc and some semblance of a conclusion.

For example, if you were writing a contrasting subplot where the side character decided to abandon another character in order to save themselves, you need to consider what happens once you write out this scene. How do the other characters react to it? Does this impact your side character’s position in the story? And most importantly, how does this impact the rest of your plot?

You need to know where you’re going to go with your story once you have concluded your subplot, and figure out a way to tie your subplot into your main plot.

I hope this blog on how to create and execute a sub plot will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and marketing tools for authors every Monday and Thursday.

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astrobei · 2 years ago

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byler + 35 for touch prompt asks: kissing their bruises and scars (+ some bonus injury tending!)

“I can’t believe you.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

Mike tries for a grin, a last-ditch attempt at lightening the mood, at playing it off cool, at proving that he’s not hurt half as bad as Will’s convinced himself he is. That backfires at once, though, as he winces involuntarily with his next step, and Will’s frown immediately deepens.

“Mike,” Will chides, wholly unamused. He’s not smiling. Mike wants to tell him to lighten up, that it’s only a scratch, that it’s superficial and Mike’s faced worse after tripping and falling on the Hawkins Elementary playground. He doesn’t think it’ll matter, though, because Will is looking at him with equal parts concern and exasperation and the kind of irritatingly steadfast stubbornness that makes Mike want to grab him by the shoulders and shake. Hard.

“It’s not that bad,” he repeats anyway, fighting back a second wince with everything he has as they clear the top few steps of the stairs. “Really.”

“Your leg,” Will points out, reaching a hand out as Mike lets out a slow exhale, “is bleeding. A lot.”

Mike takes his hand and lets himself be hauled up over the last stair. He glances down, sees the red seeping slowly through the rough denim of his jeans, cut open from his ankle up his shin and the back of his calf. “It’s not a lot,” he insists, because it’s really not. “It’s just a little scratch.”

Will stares at him, still holding loosely onto his hand. They’re standing in the upstairs hallway, and they’re tracking mud and dirt and, yes, okay, just a little bit of blood all over the carpet but honestly? Mike can’t find it in himself to care. “I can’t believe you,” Will says at last, but he looks like he’s trying his hardest not to smile. His eyes are giving it away, just like always– sparkling, going creased at the corners like they do whenever he thinks Mike is being funny but won’t give him the satisfaction of saying so. “You went and got yourself all cut up–”

“I got scraped by a vine,” Mike grunts, limping gently as Will hauls him into the bathroom. “That’s not cut up.”

“It is in my books,” Will says, and then Mike is lifting himself up into the counter by the sink and Will is digging through the drawers for a clean towel. “Because there’s you, and there’s a cut, and the rest is pretty self-explanatory.”

Mike watches him move, grabbing the soap from under the sink, brows furrowed and jaw set in quiet determination, the same way it is every time he’s upset. “You’re being dramatic,” he says quietly.

Will doesn’t look up. “I’m not.”

“You are,” Mike presses, as Will turns the faucet on. “Will–”

“I’m being perfectly reasonable,” Will says coolly, then sticks the towel underneath. “Go get yourself all cut up then. See if I care.”

He does care. The front isn’t even an attempt at authenticity, and Mike reaches out to still Will’s wrist as he turns off the water. “Will. Hey. Just– can you look at me?”

Will looks up. His eyes are a bit watery, and he blinks once, twice, glancing between Mike’s own eyes before looking away. “What?”

Mike immediately feels the sour rush of guilt wash over him, even in the warm lighting of the bathroom and the heady, steadying safety of Will standing in front of him, bracketed by his legs. “Hey,” he whispers, tugging him closer by the wrist. Will catches himself on the counter with the other hand, towel still clutched tightly, and looks back at him. “Are you okay?”

“Am I–” Will stares at him, blinking again. He shakes his head, laughing a little incredulously. “Yeah, I’m fine, Mike. You’re the one that’s hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Mike says earnestly. “I swear, it came out of nowhere and I just didn’t react fast enough.”

Will’s hand comes to rest gently just above his knee. They’re face to face like this, the low counter making up for the few inches Mike still has on him. Up close, Mike can see the shadows his eyelashes are casting across his cheek, stark in the bright overhead light. He could count them all, if he wanted, and the sparse smattering of freckles across his nose.

“I know,” Will sighs at last, those dark lashes fluttering closed. “I just–”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Mike reaches out, cups Will’s jaw with one hand. “Just– look at me, okay? I’m fine. It’s just a scratch. And you can patch me up and I’ll be good as new and also I’ll know to jump out of the way when the vines start moving next time.”

Will cracks a smile, and then huffs out a laugh, dropping his head to Mike’s shoulder. “You’re insane,” he says, a little muffled. “You’re the one that’s hurt, you shouldn’t be comforting me.”

“Did it work?”

“Maybe a little,” Will admits, pushing himself up and away, pressing a fleeting kiss to Mike’s cheek on his way to. The contact is light, brief, but Mike feels himself grow warm at the gesture anyway.

“And,” he gets out, trying his hardest to make sure his voice does not give out on him in the middle of a sentence. “You can kiss me all better afterwards.”

“I’m starting to think you did this on purpose,” Will murmurs, but he’s grinning now, so he can’t be all that mad. “We’ll see. Stick your leg out.”

Mike does. “Going to patch me up now?”

Will rolls the tattered remnants of denim out of the way. “I’ll try,” he says, studying the wound. “It doesn’t look deep, but– you know, what do I know?”

“Reassuring,” Mike mutters.

“It might scar,” Will warns him. “I feel like this kind of thing always scars. And, uh, this might sting,” he adds, holding up the towel.

“That’s cool. Scars are cool,” Mike says, “and I can deal if it– ow, holy shit!”

—

It does scar, obviously, because at some point along the way, the universe decided that Mike can’t have nice things. It’s cool, though. It’s pretty neat, and Will’s a good doctor, and it was shallow and blessedly not-infected and now he’s got a pretty gnarly pink line of a scar winding its way up the back of his calf.

“Wow,” Will says simply, when Mike pulls the leg of his pants up to show him. “That’s cool.”

“It’s awesome,” Mike grins, then flops back down onto the bed. Will is still hovering over him, Mike’s leg propped up on his lap, the leg of his sweatpants rolled up to his knee. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s a scar,” Will laughs. “How cool can it be?”

“Very. If anyone asks, I got knifed.”

Will runs one hand down the side of Mike’s calf, palm flat to the skin and his expression contemplative. Soft. “In the leg?”

Mike shrugs. “It could happen!”

“Right,” Will laughs again. “Is that cooler than a supernatural interdimensional vine?”

“Getting knifed is a story I can tell to people who are not from Hawkins, Indiana,” Mike says matter-of-factly. He pushes himself up onto his elbows to see Will better– the sloping width of his shoulders in Mike’s borrowed tee, the way his hair is still a little wet around his neck from the shower. The easy, languid way he’s sitting, curled up on Mike’s bed with one hand splayed across Mike’s ankle. Appreciative. Absentminded, like these are all things he’s doing without really being aware of them.

Will hums softly, then trails a gentle finger up Mike’s ankle, around his shin, up his calf. He stops right below the back of his knee, right where the skin starts to get soft and ticklish. Mike jerks in a full-body twitch. “Will!”

“Sorry,” Will grins, not looking even a little bit sorry. “You’re right. It’s a cool scar.”

“Thank you,” Mike says, then pulls Will down onto him the rest of the way. Will lets out a small, startled little noise before catching himself, one hand on either side of Mike’s head.

“One of these days, you’re going to kill me,” he grumbles, easing himself down onto his side next to Mike, who gravitates towards the alluring warmth of his body like it’s a magnetic thing.

“If I knife you, you can also have a cool scar,” Mike mumbles, tucking his face into the hollow of Will’s throat. “We can match.”

“Are you going to get me in the leg too?”

“Nah,” Mike whispers. “It’s a cool scar, but it’s ugly. I wouldn’t want that on you.”

“It’s not an ugly scar on you,” Will says immediately. The sound reverberates through Mike’s body from where his ear is pressed up against Will’s sternum. “You wear it well.”

“What, like an accessory?” Mike laughs, turning and pressing a light kiss below Will’s Adam’s apple.

Will hums appreciatively. “Sure,” he laughs. “You could make it work.”

“Not all of them,” Mike says, too distracted by the all-encompassing warmth of Will’s body to really be paying too much attention to what he’s saying.

Will pauses. He cranes his neck so he can see Mike, and says, “What?”

“My scars, I mean,” Mike yawns. It’s not that late– barely eleven– but it’s been a long day. He’s had a warm shower. He’s lying in bed with a very warm, very comfortable, very pretty boy, and things are starting to go a little hazy around the edges. “They’re not all that nice looking.”

Will doesn’t say anything for a moment. Mike listens to the faint, rhythmic sound of his pulse, eyes almost fluttering closed, when–

“Show me,” Will says.

Mike’s eyes fly open again. He frowns. “What?”

Will’s arms tighten around Mike’s shoulders. “You should show me,” he repeats. “If you want. I’d– I want to see.”

Mike is confused, a little. “What?” he says again. “Why?”

Will looks thoroughly baffled by the question. “Because they’re you,” he says, like this is obvious. “I don’t think there’s any part of you that’s not all that nice-looking.”

If Mike were even ten percent more awake, he’d try to protest. As it is, it’s taking most of his brainpower to even understand what Will is saying, but his brain-to-muscle communication must be better than he thought, because he’s tilting his face up before he can even register the action.

“Here,” he says, tapping at his chin with one hand. “Troy pushed me over at school. I hit my chin on a rock.”

The mark is mostly faded now, he knows, but it’s there if you squint, if you lean in and look real close. Will’s eyes dart down, then he hooks a careful finger around Mike’s chin, tilting his face upwards before pressing a kiss there, to the underside of his jaw. It’s light. Gentle. It sends Mike’s heart soaring anyway.

“You’re a sap,” Mike says, trying and failing to hide the violent red that his face is probably turning. “What was that?”

“You asked me to kiss it better,” Will says. “There you go.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “You’re about four years too late, okay?”

Will ignores him. “I like that one,” he smiles. “It’s cute. I can’t imagine your face without it.”

“It’s–! Okay,” Mike splutters, and Will laughs quietly. “Moving on.”

“Next one,” Will coaxes, but Mike shakes his head.

“Your turn.”

“What?”

“I can’t be the only one embarrassed here,” Mike says. He taps a finger against Will’s cheek. “Go on. Tell me your secrets.”

“Mike,” Will tries, but Mike fixes him with his best patented Mike Wheeler Look, and Will gives in. “You’re impossible,” he groans. “Anyone ever told you that?”

“Yeah,” Mike laughs, “you. Now come on! Tell me things about you!”

Will huffs and says, “You know everything about me,” which maybe is a little true, but it doesn’t mean Mike doesn’t like finding out stuff about him anyway. “And, uh, here,” Will is saying, tapping above his left eyebrow. “I ran into the doorway when I was six. My mom lost her shit. It wasn’t a lot of blood but I was a small kid so it looked a lot worse than it was.”

Mike’s first instinct is to laugh, which he does. He’s surprised at how it comes out– sharp, delighted. Happy, because this is one thing he hadn’t known about Will before that he does now. He can see the scar; it’s small and it’s faint, especially now that Will’s lost any vestige of a summer tan he might have had, but it’s there.

“It’s cute!” Mike runs the pad of his thumb along it, palm pressed up against Will’s cheek, then leans in, brushing his lips over the warm skin there before pulling it away. “There you go.”

If nothing else, at least Will is also turning a very entertaining shade of pink. “Who’s the sap now?”

“It was your idea,” Mike shrugs happily. He kisses Will there again, just because he can, more firmly this time. A proper forehead kiss, stroking one thumb gently under Will’s eyes. “Ta-da.”

“Idiot,” Will whispers fondly, but he holds loosely onto Mike’s wrist anyway, his own thumb rubbing loose circles on Mike’s knuckles. “Okay. Now you.”

“This feels like show and tell,” Mike says. “Like when we were in elementary school.”

“Sure,” Will giggles. “Okay. What did you bring to class today?”

Mike grins. “Um. Here.” He rolls up the sleeve of his t-shirt, points to a spot halfway between his shoulder and elbow. “From the mall. There was broken glass everywhere, so I’m honestly surprised this was it.”

Will is silent for a moment. He brings his hand up to Mike’s arm, runs his thumb back and forth over the small white line there. It’s not big, and Mike hadn’t even noticed it until his parents arrived, too hopped up on adrenaline to feel it. His mom had seen the blood and promptly freaked out. Privately, Mike had thought about Billy Hargrove and figured he should count his blessings.

“I wish you hadn’t gotten anything,” Will says. It’s quiet. Sad.

”Just cuts and scrapes,” Mike says, watching Will watch him. They’ve been through some shit. Cute and scrapes are unavoidable.

“It doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Will sniffs, leaning forward to press a kiss there too. His lips are warm against the cool skin of Mike’s arm, and he lingers for a moment, his hair brushing against Mike’s chin. He kisses him again, quick. “There.”

Mike wants to say something– anything– but he can’t be sure that whatever comes out of his mouth right now won’t be the most embarrassing thing he’s ever said out loud. Will has plenty of ammunition on him already, and Mike’s voice cracking in the middle of a sentence after Will kissed him– and not even on the mouth!– does not need to be added to the list. “Hey,” he whispers instead, and Will looks up. “It’s barely a scratch.”

Will rests his forehead against Mike’s. “Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite to it. “I’ll worry if I want to worry.”

“It was years ago,” Mike protests. “It basically healed by the time we got home.”

“Don’t care.”

Mike sighs. He’s stubborn, but his boyfriend is almost more so, and one thing he knows now that he didn’t before is to cut his losses while he can. “Your turn,” he says instead, dropping a placating kiss on Will’s cheek.

Will makes a small, happy noise. “Um. I don’t know. I have this one here,” he points to the back of his hand, “from when Jonathan and I built Castle Byers. One of the branches was really sharp and– well, you know. It’s not even big. I don’t know why it left a scar.”

The funny thing is that Mike has seen these before, but it’s not really something he notices. Little marks, littered over Will’s body– maybe it’s a testament to how long Mike spends just looking at him, but in his head, these are all just Will. He’s so used to them that it rarely occurs to ask where they’d come from. They’re just Will.

“I think it’s charming,” Mike decides, and Will lets out a small snort of laughter.

“Charming? Really?”

“Yes,” Mike says, “because then I can do this.” He brings Will’s hand up to his face, brushes his lips across the back of his knuckles, and bites back a laugh at the way Will immediately turns extremely pink.

“You are so, so ridiculous,” Will gets out. “Charming? Seriously?”

“Yes,” Mike says again. “You heard me.”

He’s still holding Will’s hand, and he’s not very inclined to let go, so he slots their fingers together and squeezes, once.

“Ridiculous,” Will repeats, but it’s weaker this time. “Now you.”

“Um,” Mike balks. Any semblance of brainpower he gathered up for their conversation so far is rapidly being washed away, every second he spends with Will pressed up against him like this rendering him even more incoherent. He fights back a yawn, and is mostly successful when he says, “I can’t remember.”

“You can’t– okay,” Will laughs. He kisses Mike on top of his head. “Go to sleep, then.”

Mike shakes his head. “Go again. I want to hear.”

“You just want to kiss me,” Will mutters. “You have an agenda.”

Mike grins shamelessly, despite himself. “Maybe.”

“I don’t know,” Will admits. He runs a hand down Mike’s back and then pulls him in until their bodies are flush. “I don’t know what else there is.”

Mike yawns again. “I do,” he whispers, then taps a cautious hand against Will’s side, right against his ribs. “Here.”

Will stops. Takes in a soft, sharp breath. “Right.”

“Sorry,” Mike backtracks immediately, pulling his hand away. “You don’t have to talk about that one, I was just–”

But Will just shakes his head. “No, it’s okay,” he says, lips moving gently over the top of Mike’s hair as he talks. “I just– you already know about that one. And I thought we were talking about the cute little scars, you know. Like, the silly ones.”

“I’m glad my chin got all banged up just for you to think it’s cute and silly,” Mike huffs. And then, “Seriously. You don’t have to.”

“Well, there’s nothing I can say that you don’t know,” Will says, twitching slightly as Mike’s fingers dip under the hem of his borrowed t-shirt. The scar there isn’t big at all, but Mike can feel where the skin goes smooth under his fingertips. He’s seen it– he wasn’t there when it happened but he knows what it looks like. Will hadn’t said anything until they’d gone swimming at the lake that summer– tugging his shirt off and not giving it a second thought until Mike’s eyes had nearly popped right out of his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says, instead of bringing up any of that. “That it happened to you.”

“Don’t be,” Will says immediately. Mike tucks his face further into the curve of Will’s neck. “I’m glad she got it out.”

Mike hums in unsatisfied relent. “Still. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Will whispers. “Thank you.”

“I’d kiss it better but that requires a lot of moving,” Mike says, punctuating his point with yet another yawn. Will makes a quiet noise of amusement above him. “But it’s cool. I can be flexible.”

“What are you–” Will starts, before Mike cuts him off, leaning up and off the pillow to catch his lips in a kiss.

“See,” Mike whispers, smiling. “I can make do.”

“With every passing second, I become more convinced that this was a scheme,” Will sighs.

“So no kiss?”

“I didn’t say that,” Will says, then leans back in, tilting Mike’s head back until he’s lying against the pillow again, hand still splayed across his lower back. It’s warm, and it’s soft, and it’s–

“Wow,” Will says. “I’m sorry, Mike, am I boring you?”

“No,” Mike says, around yet another yawn. “I’m not even–”

“You are so even,” Will laughs, then pulls away. “Sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” Mike hums, then kisses Will again. Just for the hell of it. “I know you’re not.”

#i got like 4 different asks for this one so i'm just making a new post !!#this is also a little bit of the injury tending one bc that is just where my mind went Oops #anyways i am so upset and lonely and touch starved after this god . when is it my turn to be happy fr #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fun sized fics #established relationship byler woo #fic #ficlet #hmmm ok have fun !!

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segretecose · 3 years ago

Note

Top 5 paintings of Dante?

5. Domenico Petarlini, Dante in Exile (1860 circa)

Not the best depiction of Dante in my honest opinion – his face looks way off –, but I love how forlorn he looks. He just went on his depression walk, holding his little book, and picked this particular spot to sit and brood. He's not even looking at the see he's so sad. What is he thinking? Is he missing Florence? Is he regretting his parasocial relationship with the Holy Roman Emperor? We'll never know. What we do know, though, is that he looks sickening in his red skin-tight leggingsboots.

4. Annibale Gatti, Dante Receives News of His Exile (1850-1858)

He is once again brooding on some non-identified hill with his trusty book in hand, when some tween hikes up to his place of refuge and tells him he has to pack up and leave – actually, it looks like they have already packed up for him. And he is so sad. The saddest boy in Florence exile. He's probably thinking that he needs to find a stick to carry that bundle like a dejected little anthropomorphic cartoon squirrel.

3. Ary Scheffer, Dante and Virgil with Paolo and Francesca (1835)

The tale of Paolo and Francesca's tragic love is a bit much for little Dante, who swoons "away as if [he] had been dying" and falls "as a dead body falls." This one is pretty self-explanatory, really. He's just... laying there.

2. Gustave Doré, Dante and Virgil in the Ninth Circle of Hell (1861)

Doré is of course a veteran Dante illustrator and I think he gets the horror and tenderness of the Comedy like nobody else. In this one, everyone's favourite poetic duo is going through the Ninth Circle, where sinners guilty of treachery are condemned to spend eternity in a frozen lake where there is no light nor warmth. There are frozen heads and a lot of gnawing going on, but Dante is not letting go of Virgil. No ma'am. He's holding on to his man as he "accidentally" kicks Guelph traitor Bocca degli Abati in the head.

1. William Bouguereau, Dante and Virgil in Hell (1850)

Thee Dante and Virgil painting for me. They're in the 10th Bolgia of the Eighth Circle – there are imposters, falsifiers, counterfeiters, etc. running and clawing and biting, surrounded by filth and disease and hell demons. Dante is once again holding on to his guide Virgil, and he's looking very intently at Gianni Schicchi the imposter and Capocchio the alchemist who are going at it... very homoerotically... mh.

#ask #dante tag #art

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infini-tree · 2 years ago

Photo

ok so... here’s krupp’s house interior recreated to the best of my ability! here’s some comments because i have Thoughts on it.

general

i don’t know what’s in the art book when it comes to krupp’s house. even if it was completely mapped out, it may not even be accurate to the final version seen in movie-- i know at the very least some older concepts where there was evidence of a pet bowl and a cat tower, but i’m not factoring that for obvious reasons.

this is not to scale, so some parts may be off.

fun fact after looking at these screencaps for ages: every part of krupp’s house has a different wallpaper pattern. i think that’s just fun. and it makes things/placement easier to identify! :)

to summarize my thoughts on this house: really, only the living/dining situation is the part i’m the most sure of, and that’s only because they’re confirmed to be next to each other. the placement of everything other room is more out of “common sense” that i’ll explain.

the parts of the house labelled with an asterisk ( * ) are those that are theorized to be there because of logistics. we don’t see a laundry, or hall closets in the boys’ montage, but its there to both fill out space and to be a bit “realistic” in terms of Where Does Krupp Keep His Stuff/Clean His Clothes.

The Closet At The End Of The Hallway is mostly for me as i put it there for sticky notes au reasons. you could easily swap it and where the laundry room is.

the exterior layout seen in the movie is completely disregarded. if it was, then the left half of his house would be gone. that being said, i tried to keep it as completely square as possible. there are a few particular discreprencies i had to contend with i’ll explain in later sections.

dining room / kitchen

i’m skipping the living room because there’s not much to say about it. like harold says, it looks nice! though, a bit empty.

his kitchen/dining situation is wild. typically one would just connect the two rooms directly like you would krupp’s living/dining, but this dining room shot implies that there’s a bit of hallway between the two spaces? it makes it feel a lot more congested than it needs to be. who ok’ed this? is it the same guy who put krupp’s office on the second floor as opposed to the front door? but i digress.

also its extremely extra of him to just have one chair when these sorts of things come in a set.

as for the kitchen itself... its honestly frustratingly vague considering how close the shots associated with it are.

the shot showing the drawer shows a light source implied to be a window with blinds, but the reverse shot shows that there’s no room on harold’s right to facilitate a window. this is one of those discrepancies i had to either do one or the other for and i just decided to add the window (albeit a small one).

i also added a door leading to the backyard, mostly as a logistics thing. the other neighboring houses have one on the side, so there’s a precedence for it.

bathroom

the shot is pretty self explanatory. i’m not sure if krupp has a shower or a bathtub considering that the frosted glass obscures the view. the height of the porcelain in relation to the toilet makes me think ‘bathtub’, though.

bedroom

also self-explanatory. had to do a bit of gymnastics when formatting the closets to make it not stick out on the floor plan. honestly the most contentious thing about where i placed it is because right outside the bedroom door, the hall might extend to the left. due to the fact hat the boys are right in front of the shot its hard to tell, but i decided on it not being it.

also its a little silly how krupp decorates his own room with what seems to be one of his degrees/principal’s license. even in his home life and doesn’t need to perform it, he’s leaning into the principal identity.

#mells thinking out loud on her blog again #ch: the lid's open and has been fermenting ever since #captain underpants

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lab-trash · 2 years ago

Text

Just in case you missed it, I wrote yet another fic

Oliver needed to find some way to prove it to Kaz before he talked to him. He knew that if he didn’t come with proof, Kaz wouldn’t hear him out, and if he came with proof later, Kaz wouldn’t stick around to see it.

So he convinced AJ to hack him into the security cameras so he could find the conversation.

“Alright, you’re in,” AJ said, “Working on your phone is so annoying, by the way, the screen is so small,” He said, handing it over.

“Sorry,” Oliver responded.

“I got you to the specific date, but you’ll have to find the moment yourself,” AJ said. Oliver nodded, looking down at the footage. “Gonna head back up. See ya later,” AJ said with a wave before going through a stone door.

The beginning of the footage was in the green, night-vision stuff, which made it easy to filter through until someone came in.

The time-stamp read 1304 when the lights finally flicked on.

The lights turned on automatically when someone opened the passage doors or when they activated the hyperlift. It was a huge shock when Oliver didn’t see the lights come on until it was the afternoon.

Chase and Kaz entered together. They were laughing and Kaz was holding a book.

That already threw Oliver off.

“So if I finish this within the next week, you’ll read the Tecton series?” Kaz asked, waving the book. That made more sense.

“Sure,” Chase said. “It’s not even that big of a book though.”

“It’s like 400 pages,” Kaz said, running his thumb through the pages.

“359,” Chase corrected. Oliver rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I just think it would help. And it’s fictional, so it’s not like it’s all sciency like you hate.” Kaz shrugged.

“I like some sciency things,” He said, moving closer. Chase looked away like he was embarrassed.

“Kaz…” He said, quietly. He had a little smile on his face. Kaz put the book on one of the cyberdesks before moving to stand next to Chase.

“So, what else do you want to do today?” He asked. They were standing very close; their shoulders were touching. Kaz was looking at Chase, but Chase was looking straight forward. If he weren’t, their noses would definitely be touching.

“I don’t know,” Chase said. “I’ve been deciding all day, you pick,” He said, glancing at him slightly.

“I get to pick what we do next?” Kaz asked.

“Yeah, I just—” Chase cut himself off when Kaz put two of his fingers on his chin and turned his face to face him.

Oliver was right, their noses were touching.

It did confuse Oliver, but whatever.

They stared at each other for a short moment until Chase leaned forward and kissed Kaz.

Oliver’s eyes widened in shock and waited for his best friend to shove him off.

He didn’t have to wait too long before realising that wasn’t going to happen.

Kaz put his hand on Chase’s shoulder, which is when Oliver expected him to push away, but he seemed to pull him closer.

Oliver was about to scroll back through, but Chase pulled away so it didn’t really matter.

“Is that what you wanted to do?” He asked quietly.

“C’mon, Chasey, you’re the smartest man in the world, you can figure it out,” Kaz responded. Oliver rolled his eyes again.

“I just… want to be sure,” Chase responded. Kaz just pecked Chase’s lips again. “We can’t just do this all day though.” Kaz pouted.

“Why not?” He asked. Chase didn’t answer, only tilted his head a little bit, as if it were self explanatory. “Fine,” Kaz droned. “Oh, wanna go see a movie?” He asked, pulling away a little bit.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Chase said with a smile. Kaz kissed Chase briefly again.

“Perfect,” Kaz said. “It’s okay that I keep doing that, right?” He asked nervously.

“Of course.”

The pair walked off, Kaz’s arms around Chase’s shoulders.

Oliver watched with wide eyes, even as nothing happened in Mission Command.

Eventually, he got himself together and started scrubbing through again.

The next bit of movement was hours later. Oliver didn’t exactly know what time, but the number on the screen read 1648.

Again, it was Kaz and Chase walking in together, but through the stone doors.

Another surprise for Oliver when Kaz and Chase walked in basically attached. At the face.

They were making noises that made Oliver want to hurl, so decided to just scrub past it.

Eventually, they did stop, but by then the timestamp read 1709. But after that, they just held each other close.

Oliver could understand that. As much as he didn’t like Chase, he knew that Kaz had been in past relationships that were not good for him.

“We should start our drone,” Chase said quietly, sounding very comfortable.

“In a minute,” Kaz said. “I like this. Being like this.” Oliver could see Chase nuzzle into Kaz’s shoulder.

“Me too.”

He felt so angry. There was no way Chase actually cared about Kaz, not if he’d completely betray him like he was planning to.

Oliver just decided to scrub past everything until Kaz left. That was when he had his conversation with Chase; that’s what mattered.

____________

“Hey,” Oliver said, entering Mission Command, where Kaz was surprisingly alone. “I wanted to apologise earlier. I never should’ve shot down your ideas. I’m sorry,” He said.

“Alright,” Kaz said with a small nod. “Apology accepted,” He said.

“Really?” Oliver asked, legitimately shocked. He used to be able to predict Kaz’s actions so well. “Just like that? I was prepared to fake cry… and talk about how we’ve been best friends for years…”

When Oliver started crying, it was for a mix of reasons. Sure, It was really sentimental how close they’d always been. But because of that, he knew it’d be really hard to tell Kaz about the situation. He seemed to actually like Chase, for whatever reason. But Kaz needed to know that Chase was using him

“Oh no, it’s really happening! Here come the tears,” Oliver complained.

“Oliver, please don’t drip on La Drona,” Kaz criticised, moving to a different desk.

“Right,” Oliver said, walking over to him again. “Now that we’re friends again, there’s something that you need to know,” He said. He took a silent breath. “Chase is placating you,” He said. Kaz scoffed.

“No, he’s not,” He said. He paused what he was doing and looked back up at Oliver. “What’s placating mean?” He asked.

“It means he’s telling you your ideas are good, but before the race, he’s gonna undo them all,” Oliver explained. Kaz looked away from the moment.

“I don’t believe you,” He said. There was that predictability.

“I knew you were gonna say that,” Oliver said. “That’s why I got this surveillance footage,” He said, pulling out his phone.

“So I’m agreeing with Kaz’s ideas for now, but right before the race, I’m gonna rebuild the drone to the way I want it,” The onscreen Chase said.

Oliver could see the way Kaz’s shoulders sank.

“Kaz, he’s using you,” Oliver said, putting his phone away. “He’s just lonely. He doesn’t actually… He’s not worth it.”

“How is he using me if he doesn’t like my ideas?” Kaz asked. Oliver fell silent and put his phone away, like that was an excuse for not talking. “You know…” He said quietly. “Oliver, I understand you wanted to get this footage for me, but that is so crossing the line!”

“I didn’t mean to, Kaz,” Oliver excused.

“I know, I know,” Kaz huffed. “But… I don’t want him not to like me, Oliver. I don’t want to think about that, I like being with him.”

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Oliver said, putting his hand on his buddy’s arm. “I think it’s better that you know now, rather than later.”

“You’re right,” Kaz said quietly.

____________________________

“Alright, she’s all ready to go,” Chase said with a smile.

“Really? So all of my suggestions are in there?” Kaz asked bitterly. Chase didn’t seem to process his tone.

“Yep. Even the 20-pound confetti cannon that won’t slow her down at all,” Chase said, with a smile. It only had a small edge of annoyance. He did seem really happy.

Of course he did. He was placating Kaz.

“Liar!” Kaz accused, “You were just agreeing to my face, and then switched everything back to the way you want it.”

“Kaz, I didn’t—”

“I don’t wanna hear it, okay?” Kaz interrupted. Chase looked legitimately hurt. Jeez, how entitled could one person be! To betray someone and then be hurt when they got upset about it. “And the jokes on you, because I entered my own drone in the race, just to make sure yours loses.”

“What?” Chase asked, now sounding concerned, but still hurt.

“Oh, I’ll go get it ready,” Oliver said, walking off. He caught the end of their conversation when he returned with the drone.

“The weapons room,” Kaz said.

“The what?” Chase yelped.

The announcer rang over the speakers telling them to launch.

“You’re going down, Chase,” Kaz snapped before going over and activating their drone.

“Kaz, no!” Chase exclaimed in a poor attempt to get him to stop. Once it was started, he sighed, and tossed his controller onto a concrete bench.

“Why aren’t you starting your drone?” Kaz asked, “Afraid you’re gonna lose?” He taunted.

“No,” Chase said, “I’m afraid because that’s one of Mr Davenport’s attack drones. It’s heavily armed and programmed to destroy any threat it senses,” Chase explained, his voice heavy with irritation.

“Oh,” Oliver said, ever so eloquently. He leaned closer to Kaz. “Did you know that?” he asked quietly.

“No, I did not,” Kaz answered. Oliver returned to his previous position.

“Yeah, we didn’t know that.” Kaz stepped around Oliver to be closer to Chase.

“Okay, firing off an attack drone was probably a bad idea,” He said. He looked at the drone. “But it’s really fast, I think I got this thing won.” Chase paced a bit, in thought.

“Don’t worry, we’ll just use the controller to land it,” Oliver said. “Kaz, where’s the controller?” Kaz stayed silent for a second.

“I don’t have it,” Kaz said, “I thought you had it.”

“I don’t have it,” Oliver said, honestly a bit defensive. Kaz turned to Chase.

“Yeah, we don’t have it,” He said. Chase nodded.

“That’s because there is no controller,” He said, “The drone has artificial intelligence. It’s programmed to shoot down anything that aggravates it.”

“That just sounds like poor design,” Kaz said, immediately getting an annoyed look from Chase. He huffed sadly. “It’s not my fault! You yes-ed all of my ideas, and then yanked them out when I wasn’t looking!” Kaz exclaimed. “I heard it all,” Kaz said. He looked down, melancholy. “You used me…” He added quietly.

“Look, I know what you heard, Kaz, but after talking to Oliver, I felt really bad,” Chase said. “I realised that I wasn’t being a very good…” He hesitated. “Friend. So I left all of your ideas in the drone,” He said. “Here. I’ll show you,” He said before stepping away.

Kaz and Oliver stepped closer in a bit of anticipation. Chase returned with a drone that looked identical to Kaz’s requests. Kaz squinted at it.

“Skis… pretty smile… fuzzy dice— It’s you, La Drona!” Chase smiled as he put the drone on the same concrete bench as the controller.

“Okay, alright, what about the inside?” Oliver asked.

Kaz stared at Chase with the same loving, affectionate eyes as he had when they first started making the drone.

Oliver didn’t want him to get hurt, which was exactly what was going to happen if he took Chase back.

“Everything he asked for,” Chase said proudly, a smile on his face.

“I don’t believe you,” Oliver said

Chase pressed a button on the controller that triggered the mariachi music and the confetti cannon. Oliver scoffed as confetti rained over him.

“That proves nothing,” He tried.

Kaz and Chase moved closer to each other.

“She’s perfect,” Kaz said. “Thanks, Chasey. I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” He said, putting his hand on Chase’s shoulder. He pulled Chase just a little bit closer to kiss Chase’s cheek.

“Kaz,” He urged quietly, glancing at Oliver to indicate that maybe he shouldn’t have done that.

“He knows,” Kaz said dismissively.

Chase was probably going to ask how, but then the drone fired.

_____________________________

They didn’t really bring up the fact that Oliver knew for the rest of the day. Hell, he wasn’t even 100% Chase remembered. But either way, he wanted to talk to him.

Oliver went down in the hyperlift once he’d seen Kaz leave. Not that he wasn’t okay with talking to Chase around Kaz, but more that he didn’t want to walk in on anything.

“Hey,” Oliver said once he reached the Mission Command. “Look, I’m sorry I ratted on you.” Chase looked at him dejectedly.

“Well, you should be,” He said, folding up a blueprint that was actually white. He stepped around Oliver, presumably to put it away.

“Well, Kaz would’ve forgiven me by now,” Oliver said. He wasn’t sure if it was a joke or if he was being defensive. Maybe both. “I only did it because I thought you were trying to steal my best friend,” Oliver said, as if that were any sort of excuse.

“I wasn’t,” Chase said. “Just because you’re friends with people in the apartment, doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be their friends too. They don’t belong to you. They’re people.” Oliver nodded.

“I know,” he said. “It was just between Kaz and the whole Skylar thing—”

“There is no Skylar thing,” Chase said. “I got her powers back, and that’s it. I don’t like her that way.”

“No, I know,” Oliver said. “I mean, I know now.” He said. Chase repositioned, definitely trying to think.

“I… I would definitely say that it would mess up the whole team dynamic if any of us dated. Because it’s true, none of us should date,” Chase said. He paused.

“But?” Oliver asked.

“I really like Kaz,” Chase admitted. “And for a while, I thought it was just this crush that would go away. But I don’t want it to. I really like him.” Oliver nodded.

“Well, I know he really likes you too. He was really bothered when he thought you were messing with him. He kept talking about how much he wanted to be with you, but couldn’t do that if he couldn’t trust you.” Chase looked down, ashamed. “And I’m sure he still likes you.”

“Thanks,” Chase said.

“But, Chase,” Oliver said, getting him to look up. “If you’re really going to be with him, you have to take care of him. He’s been through really terrible relationships, he deserves a good one. You need not to hurt him.”

“I would never hurt him,” Chase responded. “Not if I can help it. I could never bring myself to hurt anyone, least of all him. He’s my favourite person.”

“Good,” Oliver said. “If you do, I have super strength. Skylar has super strength. We will destroy you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Chase said. “But I wouldn’t worry about it.”

#lab rats elite force #mighty med #lab rats #chase davenport #kase #kaz mm #kaz lref #chaz #oliver mm #oliver lref #ao3

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letarasstuff · 4 years ago

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Still too itchy, too loud, too bright

(A/N): This can be read as a part two of “Too itchy, too loud, too bright” but it also stands alone, since it’s x teen!reader. I hope you enjoy reading it :)

Summary: Sensory overloads suck, also as a teenager. How can Spencer help his daughter going through them?

Warnings: Description of sensory overload (based on how I feel like when I get them and what the internet gets me)

Wordcount: 1.1k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________ She got them since she was a toddler. At first it was difficult to find the triggers and avoid them, but together with her father (Y/N) learned to deal with them: Sensory overloads.

Unfortunately she can’t always avert getting them. Today is an example for it.

The teenager feels generally uncomfortable for a few days already with school stress piling high, the dates of your exams moving closer and her patience with herself and other people running thinner with the days. In the end another episode was nearly inevitable.

It is Friday and (Y/N) counts the seconds until her last period ends. It’s not that pleasant to sit in a room full of pubescents teenage boys, who think body spray replaces a shower. Everybody, who enters the classroom, is met with a stinking wall consisting of at least eleven different sprays.

Before her sense of smell goes completely numb the bell indicates the class’s end. A sigh of relief slips past (Y/N)’s lips as soon as she exits the school building and gets her first breath of fresh air.

Buckling her messenger bag the teenager prepares herself to make her way to the next metro stop. But she stops as soon as she sees two familiar faces in the school’s parking lot.

“Dad! Aunt Emily! I didn’t know you wanted to pick me up!” Happily she gives both of them a hug. Spencer tells her something, but out of all sudden the noise level increases very sharply. He can see that his daughter gets disoriented by that, trying to spot the several sources of the different commotions.

“What about we get into the car?” He suggests, pointing his thumb at the vehicle, to underline his statement. Thankful for that (Y/N) nods and finds relief in the quietness inside the car.

After a few minutes of silence she pipes up: “Ok, I thought about something and as soon as I say this, you are not allowed to react in any way. It is a fact. I categorized the people I know and I decided that you, Emily, are the one to most likely fake her own death. And I got a question: Where are we going?”

Flabbergasted by the aforementioned ‘fact’, the godmother finds herself unable to answer. “We are driving to the diner that is a few blocks down from Quantico. I thought a lunch together would be a nice start to an off weekend,” Spencer says, turning around on the passenger seat and cheekily smiles at his child.

“No way, an entire weekend? The whole two and a half days?” For her it feels like Christmas and her birthday fell on the exact same day.

Shortly after that the little bell above the establishment’s rings as Emily opens the door, Reid and his daughter following suit. Inside they are met by a cozy ambiente, though it seems a little too cramped for (Y/N)’s liking.

Quickly they place their orders and hold interesting small talk while waiting. The longer they sit there, the more people come in and get their own table. The lunch rush just started and it seems like the diner is buzzing with customers and their own conversations. The level of noise is once again rising. Screams of an upset child, the crash of a dropped plate and the frying of meat in a pan fill her ears, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of drowning in the information all her senses send to her brain.

Suddenly everything her skin touches feels more intensive. May it be her hands on the leather of the small booth they sit in, that stick to it due to them getting sweaty. Or the fabric of her shirt that now scratches her more than ever. Or the elastic of her mismatched socks that are too tight on her ankles.

All of a sudden the world seems to be brighter. The artificial light above their head hurts the teenager’s eyes and so do the rays of sunlight coming through the window. Even the TV she sees in her peripherals sets something off in her.

The abrupt silence from his otherwise chatty child kind of forces Spencer to profile her micro expressions. The twitching of her hands and right eyebrow, sweat running down her forehead and the paleness of her skin. The agent immediately knows what is happening.

“Emily, get our order to go. I take (Y/N) to the car, it’s an episode.” The raven haired woman recognizes the code and nods. “I got some fidget toys and classical music in my car. Here’s the key.”

Gently Spencer ushers the teenager outside and into the car, careful to not touch her unnecessarily. As soon as they are inside, he gets her favorite fidget toy from the middle console and her noise cancelling headphones from her backpack. He gives both items to (Y/N), watching her putting the headphones on with trembling hands. While she calms down, the father tries to give her as much space as possible, knowing that she wants to ‘reset’ her senses.

Soon Emily enters and they drive in silence to the Reid’s apartment. It was self-explanatory that she won’t go up with them, seeing the current state the teenager is in.

A little later they sit together at the kitchen table, empty containers of food standing between pencils and coloring books for adults. “Do you want to talk about what was setting this episode off?” Spencer asks tentatively. But (Y/N) shakes her head. “No. Guess it just happened,” she tries to shrug it off.

“Sweetheart”, he attempts to get her attention by grabbing her hand, which she doesn’t retract. “Sensory overloads don’t just happen. All your senses get overwhelmed, they send too many information to your brain. I know you know the science behind it, so don’t go and shrug it off. You know what it was triggered by and I just want to tell you that I’m here when or if you want to talk with me about it. But please don’t act like nothing happened, do you understand?”

The teenager nods. “I understand. But I have to think about it all at first, then I’ll come to you. Can we just watch BBC Sherlock? I think drooling over Benebatch Cucumbercrick and Martin Freeman would do us good.” Laughing, Spencer agrees that a bit of “Benadriel Crumblebutter” can work magic and so they watch two seasons this and the next two the other day. In other words: A relaxed day at the Reid household after a storm.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #spencer reid #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader

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wroteonedad · 2 years ago

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The Teenage Smokers Collection

The first time I ever looked at anything Ed Templeton had done was when I was trying to figure out how I wanted my first photobook to look like. What type of paper I wanted to use, heck how heavy I wanted the paper to be. There is so much thought and process which goes into creating a photobook, a zine or any form of physical media that displays the work that you have created. Ed Templeton was no stranger to this. You see Templeton is a little bit of a dabbler, being a skateboarder, photographer, contemporary artist and vegan activist all at the same time. You name it, he has made it.

In 1999 Templeton published a breakout Zine titled 'Teenage Smokers', the whole project is pretty self explanatory. He took photos of teenagers smoking and the point of it was to explain that any of these images featured in the Zine are timeless based on the fact that there will always be teenagers smoking. I wanted to reflect on this project in particular, especially in a time where the vape is becoming more popular and more accessible to teenagers everywhere.

I feel as though there has always been something so cool about smoking. Not literally smoking and all the terrible effects it has for your health, but instead more how glamorised it was. We have only just began to enter a new era where it's no longer seen plastered over the pages of magazines, super models aren't photographed walking the streets holding a cigarette in their hand the way they used to. Actors are no longer smoking on TV shows, this mostly down to new legal rules in TV studios. Look at the way all of the characters looked on Twin Peaks chain smoking anywhere and any time, they all looked so cool. It just wouldn't really have the same effect if they were huffing a Lost Mary would it?

People back in the day looked so cool smoking that even David Bowie has a whole Instagram account dedicated to him smoking the cancer stick. But I'm trying to figure out why it was so cool in the Ed Templeton selection of images. Was it the rebellion, looking cooler because you simply didn't care and smoked because you enjoyed it or was it something such as lighting up a cigarette was the difference between being a child and being an adult?

But also, why do teenagers look so cool smoking too? I feel it has to be the sense of fashion, the attitude it feels like we receive from looking at these images. The way it feels that most products that have ever been created feel like they are being made for a teenage audience. It feels like there's a shamelessness to it.

The very first edition of Teenage Smokers was presented as more of a zine. A small collection of smoking teenagers, these people mostly photographed around the skateboarding park where they would take breaks every so often to light one up. The softcover book itself was only 36 pages long and mostly consisted of Polaroid images.

Templeton described the notion of how he came up with the concept in the first place; the idea of him once as a kid thinking that smoking looked really cool. He tore a piece of paper which was length wise long enough to be a cigarette, stuffed it with grass from the front garden, set it on fire and toked it. He explained that the 'cigarette' he had just tried tasted like glass and from that moment on, he couldn't understand how teenagers would indulge in the pain just to look cool. The first edition zine is the most interesting in terms of its full creation. Low budget because he barely had any money, only 36 pages and once that original collection was sold out, they never sold again.

In 2015 came a brand new release of Teenage Smokers 2, a brand new hardback cover featuring nothing except for an illustration of a hand with painted red nails as a cigarette burns. The book itself doesn't have a correlation with the original zine, rather it is a whole new book of original images that were taken after the release of the first. I feel as though Templeton could have left Teenage Smokers as its own singular project, for that one zine to be the only format of work to ever exist on the piece. It keeps it original, especially with the whole original set of works being created in the 90s; times have changed so much since that it could have been left as a standalone.

It is interesting for one artist to simply use smoking as its main subject in all of the images, it doesn't feel deeply thought out at all. There doesn't feel like there was a deep research project that came with the works behind the scenes. It feels more of a spur of the moment, as if Templeton waited for these people to come along and carried his camera with him at all times to ensure he got the shots he wanted. To be able to see so many people from so many different passages of life all come together through their passion for skateboarding and their hobby of smoking is an oddly wonderful thing, something that is so simple yet so effective for their community. I truly don't think there is much to say about these images other than they're fact they're nice,,, my lecturers would have hated me looking at an image and just saying they're nice, but they are. It's so refreshing to me to be able to look at a set of photos and just agree that they're simple and effective. They work well as a collection and they also work well as their own separate shots.

#ed templeton #teenage smokers #zine #art review #writing #art essay

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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

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Masterpiece

You and Colson have always had an unspoken agreement about what your relationship is, but one night might change everything.

Request: Hi, thank you for your imagines, love, they're incredible! I had an idea. Maybe when him and reader are getting close he gives a tour of his tattoos to them, cause the reader is very curious?

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex (nothing explicit but it’s there), a lot of touching

A/N: I had to do so much research for this, I’ve spent the last 48 hours staring at pictures of his chest. I know I didn’t include all of his tattoos, but he hasn’t talked about some of them or even shown them all that much.

Word Count: 3744

The only sounds in the room were your heavy breaths, mixing with his. You took a moment to compose yourself, the adrenaline still running through your body, before sitting up, bringing the comforter with you to cover your bare chest.

You scanned the room, looking for where your clothes had ended up in Colson’s mad rush to undress you. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Colson asked, his eyes wandering your body.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You turned to look at him, a small smile playing on your face. “Careful there, someone’ll think you have feelings.”

He chuckled, reaching out to grab your waist and pulling you back down to the bed. You laid in his arms, head resting against his chest. “You should stay tonight.” He mumbled, fingers running up and down your arm.

You hummed, “Are you asking me to stay?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, and he swore he almost fell in love right then and there.

You had never stayed the night before, you always just went to his house, fucked, and then left. Staying the night seemed too personal for what you were doing, two lonely souls finding solace in the dark but too afraid to face each other in the light.

“Will you stay the night?” He asked, fighting the urge to press a small kiss to your nose. You nodded, shifting so you were cuddled further into him, your left hand tracing the 1990 tattoo that spread across the left side of his chest.

His skin felt like it was on fire underneath your touch. “If you keep doing that, we’re not gonna be sleeping anytime soon.” He looked down at you, a smirk on his face. You let out a small laugh through your nose, dropping your hand to lay on his chest.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, “I just think they’re really pretty.”

“I think you’re really pretty.” You rolled your eyes, but a smile found its way to your lips. “Lemme show you all of them.” He sat up, pulling you with him. He reached over and flipped on the lamp beside his bed before pointing to the Est. 1990 tattoo that you had been tracing. “This one is pretty self-explanatory.” You giggled lightly.

“The raven I got done to cover up an older tattoo a while ago. I wanted something that would change the way everything looked.” You reached up, about to trace the dagger that went through the raven, before pulling your hand away. Colson smiled, grabbing your hand gently and pulling it up to his chest, silently asking you to trace the ink.

“Why the dagger?” Your voice was soft, but sincere.

He chuckled; you felt his chest move under your hand. “Thought it looked cool. I don’t know, the whole point of the raven was to be a change, so I guess it kinda represents killing an older version of me.”

You nodded, your hand moving down to the hourglass that rested below the claws. “That one just kind of looked cool. And it’s a reminder that we’re all living on limited time, so we should make the most of it.” You bit your lip, smiling at the thoughtfulness he put into all of them.

“And the spider?” You giggled, tracing his nipple and making him flinch.

He grabbed your hand, a tight-lipped smile on his face. “It goes with the bus.” He moved your hand to the red double decker bus beside the spider web. “Have I ever told you about the time I got hit by a bus in Manchester?”

Your eyes went wide, looking up at him with concern. He laughed, “It was like, 8 years ago. Don’t worry.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes dramatically, “I wasn’t worried.”

He laughed before continuing, “I got hit by this bus while crossing the street looking for weed at like 7 am. The windshield shattered like a fucking spiderweb; it was crazy. And then I just got back up.” You traced the stick figure that was flying off the bus.

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re still alive.” You joked, your voice still quiet.

He watched you intently, taking in the movement of your fingers around his rib cage. “I do too.”

“I mean, I’m happy you’re still alive, its just a little crazy.”

“Careful there, someone’ll think you have feelings.” He echoed a joke you made earlier. You pushed on his chest lightly, smiling. “This one,” he moved your hand to sit just under his armpit, “is the final scene from The Giving Tree."

“That was my favorite book as a kid.” You mumbled; your attention fully focused on the tattoo that you missed Colson’s adoring smile. “Why’d you get it?”

He was quiet for a moment, and you looked up to catch his pale blue eyes. “At one point in my life, it felt like I was giving away every part of me. I felt like the tree, I still do sometimes.”

You nodded, still holding his gaze. You leaned down and pressed a small kiss to the tattoo. This was the most intimate thing you and Colson have ever done, even more so than sex. He was opening up parts of himself to you, something you both had tried to avoid until now.

You looked back at the ink, smiling as your eye caught the tattoo on the underside of his right arm. “Jessica Rabbit, really?” You giggled.

He chuckled, raising his arm to show you the full tattoo. “She’s hot, what can I say?” You rolled your eyes. “You’ve never seen a cartoon character and thought, “damn, he’s sexy as hell”?”

You shook your head, holding back a laugh. “I wouldn’t get him tattooed on me.” He pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around you. “I wanna keep talking about your tattoos.” You whined, looking up at him.

“I was trying to enjoy the moment, but okay.” He made a face at you and you giggled, leaning into his chest and resting there for a few moments, basking in his presence. You had been scared of moments like these with Colson, and you knew he was too. After Megan, he’d had issues trusting anyone, not that you blame him. But then he’d found you, and you had trust issues of your own, so naturally you two attracted each other while simultaneously keeping each other at arm’s length. But now the distance was closing ever so slightly.

You leaned off Colson, suddenly aware of the change occurring. “I gotta pee.” You mumbled, climbing off the bed, and walking to the en suite bathroom.

“Your ass looks cute.” He called after you, and you blushed when you remembered you were still nude. You took your time in the bathroom, sorting through your thoughts and reminding yourself that you and Colson only existed after 9pm.

When you walked back into the room, you grabbed your panties and pulled them up your legs, then threw Colson’s shirt over your bare chest. He groaned, “you just wanna cover everything up, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes and climbed back into his bed. He was leaning against the headboard, so you moved to do the same, but he grabbed you and pulled you so you were straddling his lap, facing his chest. His left hand grasped your right, pressing a soft kiss to its top before moving it to his right arm.

“This one reminds me how to get home, literally.” He rested your hand on his 71 North tattoo, “but it’s also a reminder to stay grounded. Always remember where I come from, you know?”

You nodded, tracing each letter and number. “Same thing for the 216 East.”

“What about the compass star?” You whispered, hand moving down to his elbow to trace the seven-pointed star.

“I was gonna get there, don’t rush me.” He joked, pulling his right arm across his chest so you could see the ink better. “It has an E at all the points, because all roads lead back to Cleveland, which is East.”

“That was really cheesy.” You giggled, looking up to his face. He rolled his eyes, his right hand grabbing your free hand and intertwining your fingers. He pulled both your hands up and out, forcing you closer to him. Your faces were close, too close. You were worried he was going to kiss you, and more worried that you were gonna let him. He seemed to realize what he was about to do moments before your lips touched and pulled away, letting your hands go.

You looked down, both of you pretending that didn’t just almost happen. “What does this one say?” You whispered, pointing to the text on his right forearm.

He looked where you were pointing, and smiled sadly. “RIP B. Arnold. I got it after my grandma died. She was probably one of the best people I’ve ever known. She was so open and unjudgmental. She was really special.”

You frowned, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea…” You trailed off, still running your eyes over the letters.

“It’s okay, I got this done a long time ago.” His voice was soft, his eyes watching your face as you studied his painted skin. “But thank you.”

You were quiet for a long time, eyes moving over the other tattoos on his right arm before wandering back to his chest. Your pointer finger ran over the Locals Only tattoo and the Anarchy symbol on his stomach, before moving lower to the “Almost Famous” letters. “If you go any lower I’m gonna get way too distracted to tell you about the rest.” He joked, but you knew he was a little serious.

“That’s the second time you’ve threatened to have sex with me and not followed through. It’s almost like you don’t even want to anymore.” You teased, hands running back up to his chest and resting on his shoulders.

He raised an eyebrow at you, as if you challenged him. “Do you want a tour of my tattoos or not?” You nodded, a laugh falling from your lips. Colson shook his head lightly, looking down at your body in his shirt. “You are something else.” He mumbled under his breath. You were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear it, so you pretended you didn’t. You also pretended your heart didn’t flutter at the words.

You moved back from him, eyes scanning his rib cage. “What about this one?” You asked, pointing at the portrait of a man holding a sign that read “Keep your coins, I want change.” You traced it, smiling, “I like it.”

“That’s one of Banksy’s works. The political street artist?” You nodded your head, letting Colson know that you had heard of them. “I thought it was really smart and I like what it means a lot.”

You smiled up at him, admiring the way he lit up when he talked about issues that are important to him. “I like it, too.” Your hand moved up, finding the cursive name a few inches above. You were hesitant to trace it, knowing it bordered on the line of too personal.

“That one’s got a pretty obvious meaning.” He chuckled, seeing where your attention was focused. You smiled, nodding. “You should meet her one day.” He said without thinking.

Your eyes snapped up to his, and you could see the wheels turning in his brain as he realized what he said, “or not, if you don’t- I mean, you don’t have- never mind. Forget I said anything.”

You found his stuttering endearing. “If we ever get to that point, I’d love to meet her.” You whispered, trying to hide the smile that nipped at your lips. Stop it. The voice in your head screamed. This would never work out. You’re just going to get hurt.

Your hand rested on his upper arm, where he had an image of a building with an eye above it. “1984, huh?” You asked, the smile breaking through.

Colson couldn’t help the way he looked at you, stars in his eyes. “You’re one of the only people to ever get it without me telling them.”

“I didn’t expect you to be an Orwell kind of guy.” You chuckled, tracing the eye with your thumb. “It’s really good. I love the cracks in the building and all the shading. It’s beautiful.” Your voice held so much awe, Colson had to stop himself from grabbing your face and kissing you until your lips bled.

He hadn’t felt like this since, well since Megan. And that scared him like hell considering how messed up he was after she left. He’d been afraid to let anyone else in after that, which is why he was so grateful he found you. You were in the same position, you wanted someone to fill the space in your bed but nothing more. But as he spent more time with you, Colson realized he was starting to want more than that.

“I really liked the idea of the people versus this big overbearing power. Like I wanna believe that people still have a say in their lives, that I still have control over my life. Even when it feels like I don’t.” Despite all the stupid shit he did, Colson was incredibly intelligent, and it showed in moments like this.

“That’s amazing.” You breathed, still tracing the cracks in the bricks. A small blush made its way to his cheeks, and he turned his head away from you to hid it.

You flipped his arm to look at the inside, finding the words “Kiss the sky” in black ink. You leaned down, pressing a light kiss to the words. Colson’s head snapped towards you at the sensation, a small chuckle leaving his lips when he realized what tattoo you were kissing. “Cute.” He commented.

You smiled, lips traveling down his arm to the black heart. “Let me guess, you got this one to represent your cold, black heart.” You chuckled, rolling your eyes as he frowned, playfully.

“You’re so mean.” He whispered, biting his lip. “I did, actually, but you make it sound lame. I wanted to say something about the industry with it, how cold it made me.”

You nodded, smiling. “That’s not lame.” You paused, considering your next words. “Do you really feel like that? Like your soul is so dark and cold that there’s no more color inside?”

He studied you, the way you slowly traced the outline of the anatomical heart. “Sometimes, but then I look at Casie or Slim, or any of the people who I love, and who love me, and it gets a little easier.”

“You’re lucky,” you whispered, “to have so many people who love you. People that can pull you out of your head.”

You sighed, moving your attention from the tattoo, and shaking yourself out of your thoughts. His hand reached for your jaw, trying to hold your face but you moved away, looking at his rose tattoo. “This one’s pretty cool.”

He had to lean forward to see which one you were focused on. “I got that one after Bloom. It’s all about becoming a flower from a bud.”

“Yeah, it’s really good.” You sighed, moving your hand up to a red line near his heart, a tattoo of a cut. “What’s this one?”

He threw his head backwards, a laugh leaving his lips. “It’s so stupid now. I got it because I felt like someone ripped my heart out a few years ago. I thought it was really smart at the time but I ended up getting over it and now I’m left with this stupid tattoo.”

You giggled, “I don’t think its that stupid.” Emphasizing the word “that.”

“Here,” he sat up, moving you off his lap and leaning forward so you could see his back, “this is a cool one.”

You had seen the tattoos on his back a few times, but you’d never really gotten to study it. “This is beautiful.” You murmured, reaching out to touch it gently. He flinched under your soft touch, goosebumps forming on his skin. “Sorry.” You whispered, removing your hand.

“It’s okay, your hand’s just cold.” He chuckled. “It’s Dali’s Temptation of Saint Anthony.” He started, and your hand went back to wandering his back. “A lot of people interpret it differently, but I like the idea that the man with the cross is repenting for his sins. Reminds me that we always have a chance to become better people. We can always repent.”

You took in his words, not saying anything. You traced the cross in the figure’s hand, a small smile on your face. “And then, the MGK, of course.”

You rolled your eyes, “Only you would get your own initials tattooed across your back.” You chuckled, jokingly. “It’s really well done.” You reached up and rubbed his shoulders, squeezing gently. “Someone’s tense.” You whispered, feeling the stiffness of his shoulders.

He groaned as you gently massaged his shoulders, moving to sit behind him with your knees on either side of his waist. He leaned his head back onto your shoulders, looking up at you. “You are too good to me.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You chuckled, leaning down to graze his lips, “I’m not doing this for free.” You mumbled, connecting your lips in a hot, needy kiss. He shifted so that he could twist his upper body to face you, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. You moaned into his mouth, hands moving up to his neck and pulling him closer to you.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “I thought you wanted to see the rest of my tattoos?” He asked, a smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes pushing him away from you and moving back to his left side, sitting with your legs tucked under you. “I do, but I can’t help that I’m in your bed and you look fuckable right now.” You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his neck, just below his ear.

“Let me finish the tour and then maybe I can help you with that.” He rubbed your bare thigh as you sucked on his neck, leaving a mark.

You whined when your lips left his skin, a pout on your face. “What’s this one, then?” You asked, hand tracing the two X’s on his ear.

“It’s part of the MGK brand. C’mon, you should know this.” He laughed, obviously messing with you. “I don’t know it just kind of became our symbol after 19XX was created. It’s the family.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to the black ink. “Cute.”

He blew air out of his nose, hands moving to the sheets that were covering his lower half. You raised an eyebrow at him, tilting your head. “I have two more that I wanna show you on my legs, get your mind out of the gutter.” You giggled as he pushed the fabric to the side, exposing his right leg.

You noticed the obvious tattoo, the marijuana leaf on his right knee. “That one’s really creative.” You said sarcastically. He chuckled, watching you trace the words around it. “Into the woods I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.” You read the tattoo out loud, biting your lip to hide the grin on your face.

“John Muir. I thought it was really meaningful. I keep digging my own holes in order to crawl out of the ones I’m already in. But I think it’s made me know myself better.” You looked up at him, your eyes shining bright. His eyes met yours briefly, and then flittered away, cheeks turning pink.

“Okay, last one. It’s not nearly as cool as some of the other ones, but I think you’ll appreciate it.” He pulled his knee towards his chest, angling the limb so you could see the tattoo on the inside of his ankle. It was two stick figures, one with a mohawk.

You smiled, “Radiohead but make it Colson Baker.” You mumbled, shaking your head with a giggle.

He nodded, “I was fucked up when I got this one.” He laughed, “But it’s kinda grown on me.”

“I was expecting some big lead up to like, the final tattoo that was gonna be so special. Instead, you give me two stick figures and the word punk on your ankle.” You chuckled, seeing the small pout on his face. “I’m kidding.” You laughed, moving to sit on his lap again, your hand resting on his chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered, hands running over his chest, “for showing me all these.”

“I’ve never really explained all of them to anyone before. Like people can see them and I’ve talked about some of them in interviews, but nothing like this before.” His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

You looked down, biting your lip. “Why’d you show me?”

He bent his head down to catch your eyes, nose rubbing against yours. “Cause I wanted you to know.” You smiled, meeting his gaze. Your hand reached to the back of his neck, pulling him enough that his lips crashed into yours.

You were expecting the kiss to be sloppy, hungry, but instead it was unlike any kiss you’d ever shared with him. It was sweet, soft, and oddly personal. It said all the things Colson was too scared to speak.

You pulled away, confusion lingering behind your eyes. What does he mean? What do I mean? What are we doing?

His eyes seemed to hold all the answers. I’m terrified to want you, but I can’t stop myself.

You leaned back into him, kissing him softly. His hands hesitantly ran up your sides before moving to your cheeks, cradling your face in his hands. “Let’s get to sleep.” You whispered after separating, a smile on our face. You gave his lips a quick peck before climbing off of him.

He turned the lamp beside him off, encasing you in darkness. You laid down on the bed, facing away from him. Moments later he settled down, facing your back. He reached out and pulled your hip so that you were facing him. You got the hint and flipped over fully, a grin on your lips. Silently, he pulled you closer to him, holding you tightly as you drifted off to sleep for the first time together.

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