Gently worn trench
in my floor suitable for my inevitable pacing? Check.
I am so ready to
start this review.
THEN: ALL OF THE
up from chair to pace, breathe heavily, and chug espresso*
Yep, this is gonna
go just swimmingly…
(Trigger warning for
the beginning of this review. I was going originally going to skip it
as to avoid the triggery content, but then I realized I had shit to
say about it. Also a spoiler warning for Dexter in the
beginning. If you want to skip that stuff, just… scroll really
i just wanted to make this post to take the time to thank everyone :-) i made this blog one month ago and i feel so loved and appreciated??? like. this blog makes me so happy and im so happy u guys love tra and my writing. it really warms my heart to see ur messages. so this is a ‘happy one month anniversary’ thing to myself mostly but also to thank you guys for following me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i also reached an insane follower milestone today!!!!!!!!!! i love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Helloooo! I'm here just to say that i love TRA! No joking, i really find my oldself in this oc xD And it's so funny... And hot! You're doing it so good, i'm anxious about will happend. About how they will grow together... Anyway, you're very good! ;D
OMG REALLY i find myself in the oc sometimes too but if i was in her shoes i probably wouldnt have even kissed jungkook just killed him LMFAO but thank you so much!!!!!! im so excited for their growth too!!!!! :-)
☂ - Your muse shares an umbrella with mine on a rainy day
Dark storm clouds rolled in through the skies, blocking out the early afternoon sun. Nami ran under the awning of a nearby shop, just barely making it out of the down pour before getting completely soaked. She had felt the weather’s sudden change, but the speed at which the thunderstorm approached was incredible. Sure, she was out of the rain now, but how was she going to make it back to the ship?
With perfect timing, she spotted Law exiting the shop she was standing in front of. When he offered to share his umbrella with her, Nami smiled with relief. “Thank you, Tra-guy!! I was worried I would have to wait under that awning for hours!” She huddled under the umbrella and tried to keep up with the dark doctor’s long-legged stride. “So…” the navigator attempted to break the awkward silence. “What does Bepo do in the rain? Does his fur end up stinking when it’s wet?”
At Nami’s heartfelt thanks, Law felt a twinge of guilt course through him. See, it was never his intention to share the umbrella. It was small. It was meant for one person. It was made for only one human adult — that or a group of dwarves. Without brushing shoulders, there was absolutely no way they could both seek shelter under the teeny tiny umbrella. Alas, this was another case of being at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Story of his life, truth be told. Story of everyone’s else, wasn’t it?
Whether it was deliberate or not, Nami had misread Law severely. Stepping out of the shop, Law was all ready to leave. To his dismay, it was raining. Heavily. Thunderstorms and cats and dogs. Thankfully, Law had planned for the occasion; he was prepared with an umbrella. Unfortunately, Nami was not. Sure, there was nothing wrong with walking in the rain. However, wet socks was a serious, grievous discomfort he would rather not relive.
As he had taken a step away from the entrance, he glimpsed Nami in his peripheral vision. ‘Walk away, walk away,’ chanted his mind. Yet, somehow he had ended up with the umbrella over her head. Skipping past all that, there they were in the moment, not exactly brushing shoulders, due to her height, but still brushing against each other more than he was comfortable with. He contemplated offering her the umbrella and bidding her adieu, but he really did not like wet socks. Thus, he would bear the torment.
What was Nami asking again? Right, about Bepo. Now, did she really want to know? Law could talk a person’s ear off when it came to conversing about Bepo. Still, they would probably have a long walk. Silence could be awkward if Nami made it awkward. He would answer her questions since talking about Bepo was a delight, a mood improver, an anti-depressant.
“…It’s fine.” Yeah, he did not deserve her thanks. “He doesn’t get the chance to do it much, but he does like frolicking in the rain.” So did Shachi and Penguin, being immature kids, but never mind those two. Law thought about Bepo’s smell. “And it doesn’t stink, but he’s not allowed in anyone’s bed.” He adjusted the umbrella more to Nami’s side upon noticing her shoulder was being splashed with the rain.
“We might run into him on the way.” Speaking of on the way though… “Where are you headed?”
Has anyone else noticed that they… never see trans girls that are tru-/scum? Maybe I just don’t look enough but they’re most often tra/ns guys from experience. Which is disappointing, really, I want to believe all trans people are safe and that tra/ns men are safer than cis men but it’s not been my experience. I just don’t think I work very well with most men…
Saying that, HOO BOY, if you say this as an argument against tra/ns men, fuck right off.My issues with men are there most likely because of a bad past, and this isn’t me saying “tra/ns men are bad” this is me saying “I don’t usually see other tra/ns women who do that”.
After the mortifying incident where it was assumed she was caught masturbating (it took at least a week to get over the embarrassment), Nami was on the lookout for some way to tease her roommate as payback. It was an impossible task! No matter what she tried to find, Robin was nearly perfect in grace, temperament, appearance, and knowledge… at least in the navigator’s opinion.
Then it dawned on her…
“Is there something going on between you and Tra-guy, Robin?” Nami offered the paperback to the archaeologist. “This novel says there is.”
Daryl’s in his 30s and he starts to think he’s just gonna live his whole life in black and white, because a guy like him probably isn’t meant for a soulmate. (Never mind that Merle of all people actually had one, they don’t talk about that. They don’t talk about Carol. They don’t talk about how for two years, everything was in color for Merle and he got off drugs and went on the straight and even got a damn job. They don’t talk about how his past reared it’s ugly head and took her life in the process or how Merle almost overdosed a couple weeks later. He never, ever asks Merle what it was like for those two years to be able to see colors.)
Merle might have found his soulmate, but that was some kind of fluke for the Dixon brothers, and even if it wasn’t, well, look how that turned out. He figures maybe he’s better off seeing in black and white, it ain’t so bad, after all. But then one day he’s driving down the road in his bike and he sees some ratty old car pulled off to the side of the road with steam coming out of the hood. He almost doesn’t stop, but for some dumb reason he does (in his head he can hear his brother telling him that he’s always been the sweet one of the pair). Everything is fine until he comes up alongside the car and looks down into the window and suddenly the whole world tilts beneath his feet and spins like a kaleidoscope and when it rights itself, the colors are so brilliant that it makes his eyes ache and water.
Even through the blur of tears he can’t stop drinking in colors he doesn’t even know the right names for yet: the soft pale color of her hair, the brilliant bright color of her eyes, the pretty sweet shade of her lips that matches the surprised flush across her cheeks. He thinks there’s no way this can be real. Maybe he fell off his bike and hit his head, maybe he’s dreaming. A sudden sense of dread hits him as he questions: is this soul-mate thing ever one-sided? What if he’s looking at her with his eyes all full of color and she’s still staring in black and white, wondering what this rough, strange, dirty man is staring at her like this for? (Cause there’s no way that a girl like her, all sweet and pure and innocent looking, could have him as a soulmate, right?)
But then she rolls down her window and leans out a bit and the prettiest damn smile he’s ever seen curves up her lips as she says simply, “I have no idea what the name of the color of your eyes is, but I think they’re just about the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”
He’s still bewildered when she sticks out her hand and offers to shake, but he manages to respond with a gruff ‘Daryl’ when she says her name is Beth. He’s so overwhelmed he almost feels dizzy but somehow, when she ends up on his bike ten minutes later with her arms around her waist, it just seems right.
Just as right as it seems when instead of looking for an auto shop or even trying to take her home, they just spend the day driving, basking in all the colors that neither of them seem to need name for beyond perfect and gorgeous and beautiful.
(Those are all the words he uses for her colors, too.)