Something Iâve had in my mind for a while, so I did a little speed-write:
When he gets back from his therapist, Mickeyâs on the couch with his laptop open in front of him.
He doesnât make a big deal of anything, just looks up, smiles and asks how it went. Today it wasnât too taxing, just one of the fortnightly appointments that they can afford now. Ian smiles back.
âIt was okay.â
âJust okay?â Mickey looks up from the laptop, paying full attention.
He blows out a breath. âYeah. It was fine, really. Nothing huge.â He says, because nothing huge was revealed, nothing huge was said. Therapy just takes a lot out of him energy-wise.
âOkay.â Mickey replies, placing a hand on his knee, squeezing, and then returns to the screen.
âWhat are you looking at?â Ian asks, trying to peak.
âThat stupid shit you like. Pin Interest or whatever the fuck.â
Ian rolls his eyes. âYou like it, Mick. And I know you know itâs called Pinterest.â
Mickey shrugs.
âSo, what are you looking at on Pin Interest?â He smirks and Mickey snorts.
âTattoo ideas. I was thinkinâ of getting another one.â Mickeyâs gaze is laser focused as he scans through images, saving some and scowling at others as if they personally offend him.
Ianâs eyebrows raise in surprise. âWhere do you want it?â He tries to picture his husband with more tattoos and very much likes the image. He likes his current ones too much to not want him to get more.
âI dunno, man. Some sleeves are cool. But they take ages to build up. Maybe just one on my shoulder to start.â
âThat sounds good.â Ian tries to get closer, but he still canât really see what Mickeyâs looking at. âCan I see?â He asks, pointing at the device.
Mickey sighs like heâs the most annoying fucker on the planet, but he tilts the screen towards him anyway.
He can see now that Mickeyâs searched up âblack tattoo shoulder menâ and there are just piles on piles of buff men with shoulder tats.
âI like the snake one.â Mickey tells him, pointing at the picture he means. Itâs a serpent winding around the top of the guyâs arm, tangling together and going down to the bottom of his bicep.
âYeah, that oneâs cool.â Ian agrees. âWhat about that one?â He points at one with a fine lined dragon reaching onto the guyâs peck.
âI guess, but I donât want it too thin, you know? When they do it too intricate, the lines all blur together.â Ian hums in assent.
âShow me what you already have saved.â
Mickey clicks through the website, and Ian catches a glimpse of his pre-existing boards before he goes to the tattoo one. Thereâs one called âweddingâ and one called âapartmentâ and one called âdope shitâ. The cover photo of âdope shitâ is an aesthetic image of two beers and two cigarettes clasped in two hands. Ianâs not really surprised that this is what Mickey considers to be âdope shitâ.
In the folder is a lot of similar things. Snakes, dragons, one cat with bat wings. One looks like a weird cross between a gun and a dagger. Theyâre all pretty hot, and Ian tells him about his favourites.
âI was thinkinâ of drawing it myself. I donât wanna just copy what someone else has.â
âWhat did you do for this one?â Ian asks, grasping Mickeyâs forearm.
âDrew it.â He explains simply, eyes not leaving the screen.
âYeah? Itâs good. You should draw the next one, too then.â
Mickey hums in agreement but continues to browse the website, probably looking for ideas.
Ian clicks on the TV, starting up an episode of New Girl while Mickeyâs distracted.
They sit in peaceful silence for a while, until Mickey speaks again.
âThereâs a tattoo place up the street. The reviews seem good. Donât wanna go somewhere if theyâll just fuck it up.â
âThatâs true.â Ian pauses. âIf youâre getting one, I might get one too.â
Mickey raises his eyes brows in that expressive way of his. âYou want a new tat? Fuckinâ copy cat.â He grumbles, but with the way he looks Ian up and down he can tell heâs not opposed.
âYeah, been thinkin about it for a bit.â
âOh yeah? What you thinkin, tough guy, Iâll look up some ideas.â Mickey suggests, already looking back at âPin Interestâ.
âDonât worry, I already know what I want.â
When he doesnât say more, Mickey huffs impatiently. âGonna keep me waiting all night or what?â
Ian smirks and leans forward. âI was thinkinâ of an âMMâ tattoo, right here.â He tells him, pointing at a spot on the inside of his wrist.
Mickey looks surprised, and fond, and happy all at once. Even so, he tuts at him. âTshc, you donât have to do that just because I got your name.â
Ian rolls his eyes. âI fuckinâ know that, dork. I like the idea of having a more permanent thing than the rings.â
âYeah, coz you keep fuckinâ losing your rings.â
âWell Iâm sorry I donât want it to fall down a drain or something, Mick.â He laughs, exasperated. âBut a tattoo wonât fall down the drain.â
Mickey looks at him, and heâs so happy that Ian canât help but wind their fingers together.
âYou donât want it to look like Mandy Milkovich, though. Gotta get my middle initial, too.â
âWouldnât her initials be âAMâ? For Amanda?â Ian raises his eyebrows. Mickey scrunches his.
âOh yeah.â
âYou hate your middle name, anyway. And âMAMâ looks like I got something for my mum, I want this for you.â
âYeah, you already got those titties for Monica.â Mickey jokes lightly and Ian pushes his side.
<3333
i might write a next part, where they actually go get them!
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Dead boy detectives was... Okay?
Nothing spectacular and I don't think it will elicit enough enthusiasm to get a second season, though maybe being associated with Neil Gaiman's name brand might help it survive.
I just don't gel well with these kinda quirky shows, and yet I seem to basically watch all of them, maybe cause I know there's something there that I could like but I still haven't found the one?
I still have to find a single show of this kind where the "bureaucrat" scenes aren't the least interesting of the whole series.
Edwin, Niko and the Cat King were the most interesting part of the show and even then, something about all of them still irritated me.
Sorry if this review is pretty negative, I'll just move on after writing this, bye~~
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