chrislaplante - Tumblr blog

[chrislaplante]

perhaps begging was not the right move. chris felt the cold shoulder of rejection once more. gaze avoidant, blue eyes tried looking for anything other than the girl, as if a glance could give him away. he was dead, for fuck's sake, he should have grown a backbone by now... and yet- he could feel his chest tighten. his throat begins to close and there's that familiar sting in his eyes. no, chris thought, stop that. the young specter swallowed hard and pressed a smile across his lips. his brow creasing as his eyes lift to face her again, nose wrinkling as he speaks.

"no-yeah, it's-" don't say it, "it's-" he shakes his head, "it's okay."

oh, & there's some guilt. she is not very good at reading a room, ironically enough. not everyone finds peace in solitude like her, which she struggles to remember. "o-oh, i -- i didn-n't -- it's, um. it's just. i -- i w-won-n' be ab-ble to ... to t-t-tal-lk, b-but --" one hand fidgets with her necklace, a wide-eyed look of guilt on her face. "s-s-sorr-ry, i-i -- w-wasn-n' th - thin-nkin-ng."

[chrislaplante]

Golden Touch † Hand of Midas

— by Clayshaper

[chrislaplante]

What do you think your relationship with your dad would be like now if he were still around?

chris shifts and sits up in the back of the van. he's quiet. more quiet than usual. suddenly empty. numb. no longer uncomfortable. he had to, step outside himself so he could deal with- the subject. it was subconscious, of course.

he never spoke about the man anymore. not even with the guys, his friends. they knew to steer clear of it. not because of chris' reaction, but because they knew it was an old wound that somehow still dully ached when pressed, like a bruise. maybe the occasional 'didn't your dad speak french?' or 'wasn't he canadian?' simple things, if they came up in casual conversation, but nothing more. there were a selected few who got to walk into that dark attic of his mind, where all of the memories and hurt involving his father were kept; his mother, his sister, and helena.

and maybe, he acknowledged, he was being all too cautious. too afraid. maybe. just maybe. not that he'd care to admit it so.

but the question stood. lingering in the air like the acrid scent of sweetened smoke after a gunshot is fired. a quiet, a stillness. it echoed and chris spoke, "i don't know."

the impulse-driven response would have been filled with anger, rage, maybe even hate. all of the obstacles his family faced after he died, all of chris' mental struggles, all of the hurt his mother had to endure- all of it was his fault. the man didn't deserve to be missed. to be that empty ache at the pit of his stomach when he felt lonely and abandoned. he didn't even deserve the resentment. he was better off where he was. rotting, buried somewhere he didn't care to revisit.

chris' shoulders, neck and back began to stiffen. he had to be dismissive or he'll carry this for a while. with a shrug of his shoulders, chris followed up. there's a venomous disconnect in his eyes as his brows raise and his head gives a shake, "not great, i'm sure."

there's a bitter taste in his mouth that makes him bite at the inside of his cheek. ironically, this was something his father also did when he became upset, as an attempt to not show the new injury given. and this is what chris resented the most. no matter what he did, how he felt, how much time had pass, the man was always there.

father's day meme.

[chrislaplante]

“First Kill” Filming in Granville, Ohio

[chrislaplante]

[chrislaplante]

In Celebration of Father's Day, ask my muse (or the mun) anything about his/her father.

[chrislaplante]

Woodshock (2017)

dir. Kate & Laura Mulleavy

[chrislaplante]

the fact that chris was originally a fem oc. the fc was between anya taylor joy (in split) & payton list (in school spirits). this is why he’s both feminine rage coded & masculine frailty coded.

[chrislaplante]

one of my favorite things about seance (chris' band) is that they were a "pandemic band". their first two releases (or three, if you count their reject songs ep) were not toured around. the most they did with that was play extremely small shows at friends' houses & basements. the occasional backyard get together, etc. mostly, they liked to "rehearse" & just hang out. friends of the guys would stop by & it would be pretty chill. they didn't tour until their third release (crepusculo), which was a bit heavier than the prior releases & it's what got them attention. streamings. it's all about streamings. matt knew this. he arranged their first tour via personal contacts & friends in the local music scene. they aren't "big", so to speak. they're more like this weird little obscure project with catchy tunes & dark lyrics (bc chris). while they are consider a metal band, this is simply due to the musicality & dark lyricism... plus what chris does onstage. the "blood rituals"... "offerings"... "sacrifices", as their cult following has grown to call these antics. to his misfortune, chris has become the face of the band. while this usually is the case with lead singers (patrick stump be damned), for chris it happened due to the image he took on (an attempt to be unrecognizable). the long bleached hair, a blatant contrast to his natural light brown, along with the face paint/makeup - it may seem inspired by black metal, but chris is a nerd. a comic book was his reference. not in likeness but the basic concept, eric draven of the crow.

[chrislaplante]

the gay urge to rewatch foxfire (1996)

[chrislaplante]

" you don't scare me. " teen!verse

brow creases at her response. he was trying to do the exact opposite of scaring her. he couldn't live with himself if he did just that. he'd be, well, alone again. instead of becoming upset, however, chris reminded himself how insane all of it sounded. "i wasn't trying to." he says. horrible posture shrinking him as he sits at the edge of his bed. blue eyes, fearful of what he's trying to communicate, now cast upon the young goth from school standing on his bedroom doorway.

he couldn't understand. she'd seen it happen - more less - the time she snuck her into his bedroom, in the middle of the night, and kissed for the very first time. things had gotten - well, eventful, until chris was thrown off her and was slammed against the wall. he'd felt embarrassed then. but more than embarrassed, he'd been terrified. he was going to end up like his father, he knew it. that night confirmed his worst fears and brought them to the forefront. he was losing it.

chris' gaze falls from her sight. this was useless, he thought, he was going insane, there was no doubt about it. there was a sting in his eyes, one that threatened to expose his weaknesses in front of her again. "i don't expect you to believe me." chris finally said in defeat. barely audible. almost a whisper.

[chrislaplante]

Mary Goore