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kalamity-jayne · 2 months

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Sorry for asking but I am a cis male teenager (well, I thought I was.) but lately I have realized I think I might be a trans girl? I am very scared to drop my masculinity. How did you find out you were trans if that’s okay to ask?

Of course it's ok! I am always happy to help someone who is questioning their gender. However, this is actually a pretty loaded question, because while there is a lot of talk about "when my egg cracked" in trans circles, figuring out you're trans isn't always attributable to any one singular event. Some folks might crack through and emerge from their egg in one swift motion but that is not true for everyone, it certainly wasn't true for me. Sure I could tell about the moment the first crack in my shell appeared, but a single crack in the egg is a far cry from actually breaking out. For many it's a process that can involve a series of revelations and tends to require lots of self reflection and learning how to love yourself. So, there is no quick and easy answer for this. However, I think my story will have a number of different lessons relevant to your question.

Before getting into all that though, I feel I must point out that cisgender folks rarely ask themselves these kinds of questions and when they do entertain these thoughts it's brief and comes with very little agony. The fact you have gone so far as to reach out to trans woman for advice, the fact the you are clearly worried by the prospect of being trans, is a pretty clear indicator that you probably are trans. Regardless of whether you actually are transgender or not, I want you to know that either way, it's ok. You will be ok, no matter what conclusions you come to.

Now, the story of how I figured out I was trans. Bear in mind, the first “aha moment” was 20 yrs ago and things were very different back then. I was about 17yrs old at the time and the term transgender didn't have the currency then that it does now, there wasn't the robust set of terminology that we have today, there were far fewer resources to turn to, no social media, and the overall public opinion was significantly more hostile towards anything LGBT. Anyway, more below the cut.

I didn't follow the typical trans narrative of the time in the sense that, as a child I didn't really care about my clothes so long as my favorite cartoon characters were on 'em, I liked toys typically marketed towards boys, I looked like a boy and everyone referred to me as a boy. So I thought I was a boy. However, I do have a vague memory from early childhood, somewhere between the ages of 4-6, of sneaking into my mother’s room and stealing a pair of her satin underwear and trying it on (it surely would have been too big on me but I remember liking the texture of the fabric) and hiding it under my bed. This memory has since been confirmed during my adulthood by my brother who shared a room with me at the time and had apparently found the hidden stash.

From an early age I was explicitly shunted towards masculinity. I was regularly told to “stop acting like a girl,” and “quit crying like a girl,” and even at one point to “stop walking like a girl,” by my peers and one of my brothers. By the time I was a teenager I was doing my best to be as masculine as possible going so far as joining the highschool wrestling team, a sport that is as homophobic as it is homoerotic, and I hated every minute of it because being manly didn't feel natural to me (and it definitely didn't stop the bullying). It felt like I was trying to ice skate uphill. I fit in but only imperfectly for I was merely acting.

I was also very confused about my sexuality. I thought maybe I was gay or bisexual (turns out the latter) but that didn’t really explain what I was feeling. Around 17yrs old I got curious about transsexuals, thinking maybe the answers would be found there and hoped on to the early and oh so clunky internet. Now I knew of transsexuals conceptually but I didn't know anything about them. Sadly, pornography was really the only reliable way to actually see what a trans body looked like back then. I was stunned because the women I saw did not look at all the way I expected. I was blown away by how so many of them, genitalia aside, looked indistinguishable from cisgender women. And they were all absurdly beautiful. I felt an immediate attraction but there was something else I felt too, envy. And that realization was the first crack in my eggshell.

After that I couldn't get the thought of crossdressing out of my head. So, I dug through a box of my mother's old clothes and took a few items she no longer wore, an old white tennis skirt and a very very 70s sleeveless orange blouse. I was so comfortable in those clothes and when I looked at myself in the mirror I felt good, really good. So, I continued exploring, shaved off all of of my body hair, went to department stores that were open late at night to buy girl clothes (deathly afraid someone would recognize me), I would stay up late at night to watch HBO because at midnight they would occasionally air stuff about trans people, (I remember two documentary shorts in particular and the movie Soldier’s Girl) and I scoured the internet for more information. The internet search brought me to a website called TG list (at least I think that’s what it was called, this was 20yrs ago after all) which was a directory of resources ranging from The Breast Form Store (which still exists!), a myriad of gender identity quizzes (I took nearly every single one), and Susan’s Place.

Susan’s place was one of the few reliable places to hear from actual transgender adults. Unfortunately, while Susan's Place had a lot of useful information the forums there were full of horror stories, a never-ending supply of all the things those women had suffered. So needless to say, there was little to no positivity around transness to give me hope. I was afraid to call myself trans as a result, afraid of what it meant for my life, my future, and my physical safety (you have to remember that back then Mathew Shepard wasn’t old news, his tragedy was practically current events). So I called myself a crossdresser but for reasons I didn't understand at the time I deeply resented that label. I think deep down, no matter how much I tried to deny it and bury it, a part of knew I wanted to be a girl. So when I came out to my parents as a crossdresser and explicitly told them I wasn't trans, that I didn’t have any desire to transition to female, there was that lil voice at the back of my mind calling me a liar. That voice would follow me until my late 20s.

Coming out was a real struggle for me because not only did I think my life would literally be in jeopardy, I thought everyone would think I was making it up, having not followed the stereotypical models of transsexuality. When I came out to my parents they didn't disown me or anything but they were noticeably uncomfortable around me when I was in girl mode. At a certain point I needed their help (credit card) to buy a gaff for tucking and that was when my parents, out of a misguided desire to protect me, pushed me back into the egg. Because of their rejection I spent the rest of highschool and most of my college years trying to hold the egg together with even more denial and by doubling down on masculinity. While I did have some fun during my college years, on balance I was miserable and depressed. I chafed at my male costume and I knew I was lying to myself the entire time, and I hurt myself a great deal.

During my senior year of college I started privately dabbling with crossdressing again, the desire had been nagging at me incessantly. A short time after graduating I met my wife who accepted that side of me and she introduced me to the BDSM/kink community, and the overall culture of nonjudgmental acceptance there cracked the egg for good, because is provided spaces besides my own room where I felt safe being a girl. From that point on I slowly but surely came out of the egg, first calling myself a crossdresser, then genderfluid for awhile, then GENDA passed in NY making me an explicitly protected class and for the next 2 yrs I presented as a they/them genderqueer woman 100% full time without HRT (I was still reluctant to call myself a woman).

I wrestled a long time with the choice to go on HRT. Ultimately that was always a big stumbling block for me. Therapy had gotten me pretty far but I was still afraid of so much and was unsure I would be happy with the changes because my parents had initially rejected me as their daughter in very paternalistic fashion I struggled to trust my own instincts. I still struggle with that sometimes. Eventually, I befriended a trans woman in my neighborhood who pointed out HRT works very slowly and that it takes a long time for any permanent changes to take root. So, she suggested I give it a try and if it didn't feel right I could stop.

I was also taking gender identity quizzes again. Now most of these claim to be diagnostic and those ones a generally misogynistic garbage (they ask stupid questions like, “are you good at math?” and assign a gendered value to the answer) but I happened upon one that started with the disclaimer that it wasn't diagnostic and instead only offered questions that are good to think with. Two questions in particular were very helpful. The first asked, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up tomorrow as a girl, would you take it?" My answer was a hesitant yes, but that yes was bolstered by the next question, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up as a man, in your current body, but without any dysphoria or desires to be feminine, would you take it?" My answer was an emphatic no because that would have felt like killing an important part of myself off. I then at the age of 33yrs old started HRT and 4yrs in I am incredibly happy. That was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

Now, I know that was a lot of fucking text to read but I wrote all of that because I know the prospect of maybe being a trans girl feels scary to you right now but I want to assure you that as daunting as it may seem there is so much about being a trans woman that is full of beauty and joy. I love my trans womanhood and despite the hardships, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. In fact the opposite is true. Knowing what I know now, I would give up almost everything in order to be a woman. So if you feel like you want to give girlhood a try, do it! You can take small incremental steps and you can always stop if it doesn’t feel right, either way you will gain a degree of self knowledge most cisgender people lack completely and that is absolutely priceless! Plus, unlike me when I was a teen, there’s all kinds of resources and information available to you now and an entire community of people ready to help you, and unlike the women in the forums from my past, we aren’t all gloom and doom.

As for your fear of giving up masculinity, don’t let that fear lure you into the denial trap like it did me. Denial is like quicksand, once you’re in it becomes hard to get out, the more you struggle the deeper in you go and it is so very suffocating. And the thing is, you actually don’t have to give it all up. Back when I was presenting full time as woman without HRT, I felt like I had to be ultra feminine all the time, full face of make-up, dress, heels, the whole nine yards. Now that I’m 4 yrs in with HRT I don’t feel that pressure anymore and have since reclaimed certain aspects of masculinity I actually liked. I sill like presenting high femme from time to time but these days I mostly rock a soft butch aesthetic, flannel/t-shirt, jeans and the only makeup I wear daily is just a lil bit of blush. At certain point you become comfortable and realize that gender is just a sandbox to play in and experiment. Masculine and Feminine are just concepts, they aren’t real! so regardless of being cis or trans, don’t let those mere concepts box you in! Just do what feels natural and right to you!

I hope all of that was helpful to you anon, and that at the very least you walk away from this knowing you don’t have to have all of the answers about yourself right now. Now, I don't no the particulars of your situation, so I’m happy to speak with you further if you have follow up questions, just send another anon.

Best of luck to you anon, I am rooting for you!

Big hugs,

Mother Calamity

#advice from a trans mom #Transition #HRT #Transgender #cracking the egg #ask/answer #anon #mother calamity!

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pineapplequencher · 4 months

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five stars ੈ✩‧₊˚

wherein surfer portgas d. ace tries his hand at snowboarding. he fails, but he's pretty sure he's met the love of his life.

surfer!ace, snowboarder!mc, afab reader, unedited, sfw, 3.6k words

tw: blood mention

a/n: this is my entrance exam into floptropica university (i also suck and snowboarding and avoid it. im a surfing girl. sorry if i got osmething wrong)

Should be easy enough, Ace thinks. I surf, so this’ll probably be easy. Besides, what’s the difference between snowboarding and surfing? He’s totally gonna shred regardless.

But the gear is heavy, and the boots are clunky, and the helmet looks ridiculous. He’s used to the autonomy of having no shirt on, with sun on his back and wind through his hair. The air here is frosty and unkind, the sun is hidden behind a blanket of clouds, and the other people in the gondola line look mean.

As he approaches the gondola to take him up the mountain, a worker with green hair and goggles barks at someone else before he turns to Ace. Ace hefts the heavy board under his arm and gives the worker a cheeky grin. “Hey.”

The worker’s name tag sports chipped letters—Zoro—and the worker himself gives Ace a tight line of a smile.

“Hey, uh, after I get on this thing”—Ace motions to the swinging carriages supported by the lines that stretch to the high, white peak—“which way do I go to get to the bunny hill?” Zoro’s lips twitch, as if in an effort to hold back a laugh. Ace, a bit insecure now, adds, “My brothers went up before me, and I’m new to the area.”

Zoro glances at the mountain, then back to Ace. He checks his clipboard and readjusts the goggles over his eyes. Ace is sure those aren’t prescription-based, but Zoro’s voice is confident. “Sounds like you’re headed for Drum Island Hill. I think you take a right, and then a left. Should be right there.”

“Thanks, man,” Ace replies coolly.

“Yeah,” Zoro says. He turns back to his busywork. “You should probably strap a boot in before you go up. Okay, stand there, and the ski lift will take you up.”

Ace does so and waddles to the area. He flops his bulky body on the bench. This is his first time doing a winter sport, and he didn’t want to pay the hefty fee of lessons. The ski lift gains traction and lifts him into the air.

When he reaches the top, he stumbles off the bench. He’s not used to his foot directly strapped onto his board. It gives him no leeway. He balances poorly and dismisses the worker that’s about to help him.

“I got it,” Ace says. “I’m good.”

Now, what did that guy below say? Ace peeks down the mountain. This is way higher than he thought. This is where the bunny hill is, right? He looked online at the review, and it said that this place is good for beginners. He’s starting to doubt the Internet’s honesty.

Ace traverses across the hard, thick snow. He sludges his strapped boot behind him, copying the fellow snowboarders, and takes his steps with utmost carefulness. A right and a left. Should be easy enough, Ace consoles himself again.

Having another board strapped to his foot feels like cheating on his surfboard at home, though.

After he drags his body to the right, he makes his way past a few wooden cabins with skis perched outside. He must be headed the right direction. A few skiers chat and laugh as they leave the cabin, Modelos in hand. Ace doesn’t feel that safe here anymore, but he has to meet Luffy and Sabo. And master this craft. He paid good money to rent the snowboard and gear. Can’t let it go to waste.

Once Ace reaches a thick collective of white-tipped evergreens, Ace scratches his head. This is a good spot to turn left. He navigates through the forest until he notices a sign: Black Diamond. That doesn’t sound like Drum Hill Island, but the names of these mountains go hard. Maybe they’re synonymous.

There’s very few people here—only two besides Ace—and one measly cabin. It looks closed. One of the snowboarders nods their head at the other and tightens the goggles. Then, they disappear down the snow. Ace’s gaze follows them.

Um, Ace thinks.

The road is steep, with bumps and swirls that slither down the mountain. The skinny trail is fenced off by the forest, and rocks jut out sporadically. The snowboarder slides and turns around the rocks and flips off of a mound. They hoot.

Ace turns. There’s no Luffy. There’s no Sabo. Maybe they’ve begun to make their way down as well. The second snowboarder here pats Ace’s back. “Hey, man, you from around here? You look nervous.”

“I’m not,” Ace says. “First time.”

“First time here? Oh, dude, this path is hella fun. Mind the giant rock when you’re around thirty feet in, though. It’ll trip you up, and it’s for sure accident prone,” the snowboarder replies. Then, they flip their snow goggles over their eyes. “See you down there.”

Then, Ace’s last bit of company is gone.

Alone in the desolate snow, Ace fantasizes about his surfboard. Whatever. Everyone’s a beginner at whatever they do. Luffy and Sabo probably had so much fun without Ace already. That alone fuels Ace’s FOMO into transmission. He will surf this mountain, or whatever they say.

Ace shakes away his nerves. He fixes the goggles over his eyes and knocks on his helmet for good luck. Then, he fastens his other boot onto the board. This doesn’t feel right, but that’s just his muscle memory. Ace feebly totters to the edge of the path. The wind whistles in his ears, further emphasizing how alone he is at the top.

Before Ace could hype himself up more, his balance shifts, careening his board, and suddenly he’s plummeting down the mountain. Ace screams.

He holds his arms out in an attempt to position himself better, but the speed at which he’s shredding this mountain makes it impossible for Ace to maintain himself. He swears the other boarders weren’t going as fast as he was. They were skidding and sliding alongside the mounds of snow. Ace is just skidding.

Ace wobbles on his board. It’s so skimpy and malleable compared to a surfboard. Every small adjustment he makes essentially carves his path down here. Somehow, Ace sees himself not making it out of here alive. He has to choose how he wants to go out.

He sees how this could be fun to an experienced snowboarder. He’s not that guy.

A bump in the path sends Ace into the sky. Falling on his back sounds bad. Falling on his face sounds worse. With how thick the snow is, he could fall headfirst into the snow and never be seen again. Ace channels his energy into twisting his body so that he lands on his butt. A busted tailbone is an easy fix.

He curls his body and braces for impact.

Once he hits the snow, he hits it hard. The ocean waves are much kinder when it comes to falling off. The back of his helmet slams against the harsh snow, and his ears ring in pain. His tailbone takes a direct hit against the sleet of snow and ice, and rapid throbs of pain follow. His head is dizzy, and momentarily his legs lose feeling. The weight of his snowboard tugs him further down. Ace flails his arms to hold himself in the snow.

Ace unbuckles one of his boots, and he breathes a sigh of relief. He’s alive, that’s for sure, and it hurts. Ass planted in the snow, Ace stretches his limbs and decides to wait a few minutes before he creates an action plan. The snow did a number on him. He can’t think. He might throw up. He’s the perfect bait for a bear. He’s going to die. He can’t even push himself out of his ass-created hole in the snow.

The high altitude of the mountain allows for the wind to whip Ace’s helmeted head around. His heavy head lolls around his shoulders. He can’t breathe. Ace fumbles to undo the clip, and he sloughs his helmet off next to him.

His black locks are damp on his forehead. Ace shakes the sweat from his head, but the rapid movement causes him to groan. His snowy, cold glove grasps his forehead. This biting pain is uncomfortable. He might have to wait for help.

Ace tosses his helmet to the side and sighs, waiting for the pain to subside. What he tripped on must have been the rock in the road the other snowboarder informed him about. Just his luck.

Then, a giant shadow crosses the sky. Ace looks up.

It’s another snowboarder flying above him. His mouth is open. He should shout for help, right?

Their form is impeccable—it’s something you see on a YouTube video. Their hand is gripped on the edge of the board, their knees tucked, and their other arm splayed out. Ace would give a lot to see a GoPro video of this person shredding snow.

He doesn’t need to shout for help; the snowboarder notices Ace. The snowboarder is distracted long enough for them to release their hold on the board and tumble into the snow. Ace hears a crunch and winces.

Ace watches the other snowboarder tumble into the snow. So that’s how you fall, he notes. The snowboarder’s gloves grasps against the mountain snow. They’re quick to unbuckle their boots and check their limbs and ankles. After they do a windmill with their arms, they pick up their snowboard and use it to hike their way to Ace. Snow cascades down their covered shoulders.

Although the helmet and goggles conceal their expression, Ace has a feeling that this person is mad.

Since he’s stuck, he lets the angry snowboarder approach him. He gulps. The slow, steady, and experienced stomps of the snowboarder alongside the harsh pikes of their snowboard against the mountain lets Ace know that there’s more pain bound his way.

Once the snowboarder is close enough, they peel back their goggles to reveal their face and shed the helmet entirely. They tuck it under their arm and stake their snowboard into the snow.

Fuck, Ace thinks. Why’d it have to be a pretty girl?

Similar to Ace, her hair is damp against her forehead and is frizzy from the tight hold of the helmet. Her lashes fan over her cheeks when she blinks, and her nose is scrunched. The sun behind the woman infuses her with a brilliant glow, which causes Ace’s breath to hitch, and her rainbow-hued goggles glint. Her brows create a pinch in her glabella, and a sneer is plastered against her face. Forget the GoPro, Ace would give a lot to see this woman’s smile.

Then, he notices her bloody, bruised lip.

“What—the fuck”—her voices comes out in angered pants—“is wrong—with you?” She pokes a gloved finger against Ace’s chest, and he throws his hands up in surrender. “You’re a hazard, hello? At least get out of the path.”

“Sorry,” Ace replies meekly. “Um, sorry about your lip, too.”

“You have a lot to be sorry for,” the woman hisses. “Where’s your etiquette?”

“I’m new here.”

She doesn’t let her bottom lip stop her from chastising Ace. In fact, blood drips onto the white snow, fresh and bright. “New to the area, or new to snowboarding?”

“New to snowboarding…” Ace lowers his arms.

The woman’s hand flies up to her head. Her visible rage has yet to leave. “This is a Black Diamond path, AKA what they use to categorize the most dangerous paths, AKA where only pros go, AKA metrosexuals like you shouldn’t be here.”

He still has time to look suave in front of her. He brushes his hair back and says, “I figured. What’s your na—”

“You should be at Drum Hill Island. This is Skypiea.”

“Okay.”

“Did you not see the experts only sign?”

“I saw the Black Diamond sign,” Ace offers, but he must’ve added fuel to the fire since the woman plants a hand on her hip, unimpressed. “I—I didn’t know what that meant. I said I was a beginner.”

The woman sighs. “Give me a second.”

Ace watches her plod into the forest. She takes a moment to drop her helmet, unglove a hand, and check her phone in her pocket. She holds her phone close to her lip to see the damage. Then, she pockets her phone, fits her glove back onto her hand, and screams.

A flock of birds fly into the sky.

After she’s done, the woman grabs her helmet and slogs back to where Ace sits, still ass-down in the snow. Her blood begins to drip down her chin, a red trail is left behind in her wake. She’s too angry to pay attention to it, and Ace would rather not upset her more.

“You stuck?” she asks, her tone gentler than before, yet it still has an icy edge to it.

“Yeah,” he admits.

The woman kneels down to unbuckle Ace’s foot free. She takes his snowboard and plants it into the ground next to him. She stands and dusts the snow from her knees, then she holds her hands out expectantly. Ace takes them, and she pulls him out of the snow.

The force of it pushes her back—he’s a heavy, muscled guy, you know—and Ace trips over her. They land on the snow. Their faces are inches away from kissing, and Ace might’ve gone for it if she weren’t mad at him already, if her lip wasn’t bloody, and if he had some liquid courage. Both of their breaths come out in wispy tendrils of fog, and the woman’s face is studying Ace. He’s unsure if she’s incredulous or captured by his good looks.

He decides it’s the former when the woman says, “Can you get off.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he murmurs and pries himself away. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says as she sits upright. “Rough landing. I’m used to it, though. Anyway, you’re lucky I know a way out of here.” She stands up, plucks her helmet from the ground, and holds the edge of her snowboard. “Just get your stuff and follow me. You’ll be fine, if you have no other injuries.”

“I’m okay,” Ace says. He might have a concussion. This woman really is pretty.

“That’s good. No need for a rescue helicopter, then.”

Ace chuckles. “Yeah, that might be too much.”

The woman’s eyes crinkle. She must be trying to smile, since her lips wobble and her brows are raised. Obviously, her new wound makes it impossible. Ace is kind of proud of himself, and then his confidence is lowered because it’s his fault she busted her lip open.

Without another word, the woman goes into the forest, leaving Ace to frantically gather his gear and stumble behind her. He jogs—and nearly slips—until he’s next to her. The woman says nothing to him as he catches glances at her.

It isn’t until the woman stops to free her hand from her glove does Ace say, “I’m really sorry, by the way.”

The woman looks at him as she raises her careful hand to her bloody lip. She wipes some of it away and hisses at the pain. She looks at the red on her finger and wipes it on her snow pants. “It happens.”

They continue their journey. Granted, she has every right to be upset. Ace clears his throat. “Do you come here often?”

“Yeah, I do,” she says. “Whenever I’m on break, I make the trip up here.”

“From what I saw, you’re pretty good.”

The woman smiles, this time with great care, in consideration of her lip. “Thanks. Lots of practice. But I never had the audacity to try a Black Diamond on my first try.”

“I followed instructions, I swear,” Ace insists. “There was this guy down there—Zoro, or whatever—and he told me to take a right, then a left to get to the bunny hill. I literally did that and ended up here.”

“Oh, that guy’s working today. No wonder,” the woman says. “He’s shit at directions.”

“He convinced me. He sounded so confident.”

The woman’s eyes meet Ace’s. She quickly refocuses on the slow shuffle of her feet. “I wouldn’t be surprised if other beginners are at Skypiea, too, but they wouldn’t have the audacity to actually ski or board it.”

She’s back to jabbing at him. He’ll take it. Ace shrugs. “Yeah, yeah, I’m full of myself.”

“So you do get that a lot.”

“I get it more often than I should,” Ace says. “Hey, once you get to know me, you’ll find that I’m a humble guy.”

The woman snorts and shoves Ace. “Humble people don’t say that.”

“And you would know that because you’re humble, huh,” Ace retorts.

“Yeah, once you get to know me, you’ll find that I’m a humble girl.”

“Okay, calm down.”

After that, she doesn’t respond. Ace struggles to find a conversation topic. She might not want to talk because of her lip, but it seems she’s not exactly opposed to it.

“Do you usually come with friends? I noticed you were alone,” he points out. Yep. He’s good. That’s good. Casual and smart.

The woman sighs. “Sometimes. I came with a college friend this week, but he sprained his ankle yesterday doing Skypiea. Did you come here with anyone?”

“Yeah, my younger brothers! They should be at the kiddie hill. I was tryna look for them before this happened…”

Ace wishes they met under better circumstances. If he had his iconic orange cowboy hat, he would have taken it off, held it to his chest, and asked for her name with a smile. He’d do that cheesy thing where he bows a bit and kisses her knuckles. Then, he’d impress her with a trip to the beach and show her how well he surfs. She’d ask him to teach her, probably, and he’d get to—

“Hello?” the woman says.

“Sorry?” Ace is saying sorry a lot today. It’s fine. This woman deserves it.

“Your name? Excuse me?” the woman asks. “I’ve been asking.”

“It’s Ace,” he replies. “Sorry, your lip must hurt a lot. Um, what’s yours—”

“Oh! We’re here!” the woman chirps, and she points to a ski lift, buried in the clearing of the forest. Around the lift is a populated area, with plenty of children and families. Settled in the valley of the mountain, there are smaller slopes and neon netting to prevent accidents. There are lessons held with snowboarders and skiers alike in blue uniforms, watching the people work their way around the snow.

Ace’s shoulders droop. “Oh. We’re here.”

“Go ahead and find your brothers.” The woman gives him a dismissive wave. “I’ll check in with the infirmary about my lip. I might need stitches.”

Here’s his chance. “Yeah, I’m really sorry. If—If it costs anything, I can give you my number, and you can let me know about the cost. I’ll pay.”

The woman hesitates. Ace crosses his fingers discreetly. Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes please say yes please say yes. She fishes a hand in her pocket and waves her phone in front of him. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Ace takes it. He remembers he has gloves on. He sheepishly sheds them off and tosses them to the side as quick as he can. “Oops. Um. Let me see…” Ace’s hands shake as he types his name in, and then his phone number. He double-checks the digits. He triple-checks it even. He makes sure it’s right. He really wants her to reach out.

“Hey,” the woman prods.

“Here you go,” Ace says and hands her phone back. “Call me. Or text me. Do whatever you want. Do whatever’s comfortable for you.”

“Okay… I will,” she replies, and Ace takes it as a promise.

Again, he watches her maneuver through the people in the area until she reaches an information desk. She rings the bell, and a worker comes out. The woman motions to her lips, and the worker freaks. Ace watches the woman laugh, throw her head back, and wave her hands.

Damn. Ace wants to make her laugh like that. He’ll wait for the text. He’ll cook up something good. Something that’ll make her kick her feet and giggle.

Behind him, a familiar voice says, “Looks like you made it.”

Ace turns around. It’s Zoro, the freak from the bottom of the ski lift. It looks like his goggles are still for show because he has them strapped around his eyes with no helmet. Ace wants to yell at this guy for making him look like a loser in front of a pretty girl, but he finds that he’ll settle for a nasty Google review.

“I did,” Ace says through gritted teeth. He then points to the woman. “What’s her name, by the way?”

Zoro whistles. “This is a place to snowboard and ski, not pick up chicks.”

Never mind. Ace is ticked. “Yeah, well, your directions actually led me to something called a Black Diamond Skypiea thing, and she helped me out. I just wanna know her name, dude.”

Zoro laughs.

Ace waits.

Once Zoro’s maniacal laughter is over, Zoro says, “That’s [Name]. You got lucky by meeting her. Wow. This is crazy. Sanji’s been trying to get his contact in her phone for ages. Good luck.”

Smug, Ace can’t hide the growing smile on his cheeks. That Sanji guy must be butt-ugly and not worth [Name]’s time at all. Ace’ll show her what a real man can do. Well, he would, but the ball’s in [Name]’s court. All Ace has to do is wait for the hospital bill to come in.

Ace pats Zoro on the back. “Thanks, man. I mean it.”

✭✭✭✭✩ decent place to ski and snowboard. personal faves are skypiea and wano. i've done alabasta too but i've heard things about it being artifical snow and you know what i can tell it's artifical... read more - [name]

✭✭✩✩✩ Gyatt damn is all i gotta say. Nami is fine as hell i want her 😍 I also broke my skull doing thriller bark they need to fix that shit asap - brookhardboner

✭✭✭✭✭ Would’ve given this place 1 star but Im pretty sure I met the love of my life today - firefistace

#portgas d ace #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece x you #one piece ace

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hotchfiles · 2 months

Text

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [CHOICELESS HOPE] ❞ — three. need in the devotee.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summ.: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless. cw: canon divergent. emotional cheating. right person wrong time. no use of y/n. wc: 1k+.

previously

first cases were always an awkward matter, getting to know new people, having them wonder if you were nice or not and wondering the same thing about them. you thought maybe having dave around would make it less clunky. irrevocably wrong you were, as you had to explain the divorce from your cheating husband when he asked how the bastard was.

everytime you thought about your divorce it made something in your brain twitch, it had been finalized four years prior but it still hurt, and you got mad at yourself for being hurt, not only because it was a hit to your gut, your untrusting nature decided to trust this one man and he broke it so easily. but it hurt more as deep down you felt like you deserved it. like it was your karma.

“i watched you speak about the importance of profiling for crisis negotiation once. you seemed very passionate about it, almost like hotch–” you held in a sigh as the genius boy possibly every unit had heard of spoke. you were an expert. a leader in your field. it just happened that your field was the one hotchner literally wrote the book about. you would have to deal with the comparison constantly now. “why did you transfer?”

“not the pay, that i can assure you.” that earned you your first group laugh, some of them looking over at rossi, possibly understanding now why he looked so enthusiastic about your transfer, or because he was the one who mostly talked about the fact the pay was shit.

“she was the only one available with experience, and she was forced to.” aaron clarifies from his seat on the jet, having thoroughly read your paperwork by now. you nod in confirmation, not caring that it wasn’t the best look to have been forced into their unit. it was yours first anyway.

“familiarity with the way hotch works was a factor too, it seems.” some things don’t come written on paper, only the influence of being one of the unit’s founders, like dave, guaranteed that type of information, or at least you thought so, as that fact didn’t come to you as reasoning. still, you wouldn’t lose the opportunity to tease aaron, even if only a bit.

“familiarity is a way to put it, huh? most of his methodology was created with me.” scoffing loudly was his response while he shook his head in disbelief, the rest of the team glancing from you to him in curiosity.

“maybe write a book about it then.” two hours into the first jet flight and you could possibly punch him in the face to get that little shit eating grin out of it. or maybe kiss him.

“i thought working with you two together would make me feel young again. it doesn’t. i’m too old for this now.” dave points to you both and looks back to the files, bringing the conversation back to the case in hand.

first two months he tries not to favor your presence, sending you off with derek, dave or spencer to check crime scenes, talk to suspects, witnesses, but like magnets you two always ended up beside each other, too close, shoulders touching while reading files and completing each other’s thoughts for the profiles.

you do try to keep your distance as best as you can as well, favoring sitting alone on the jet, talking to emily or losing to reid at chess, bonding with the team was an important part of what made any work the best work possible. and it’s not as in better workplace, but better at the job.

connecting with the team made profiling better, faster, that was why you and hotch were quick to make connections, quick to see holes, patterns, when you were together.

still you catch his annoying glances that he makes no effort to conceal when you lock eyes with him, instead he smiles with his teeth and waits for you to look away. and you usually do.

las vegas being the final destiny though, you had your mind set on not looking away when he did his well known dance of glancing and waiting for you to look back, instead getting up to your feet and walking over to him, savoring the soft, almost shy smile he gave you as he took in your every move, from your seat to the one by his side.

you take a spray bottle out of the pocket of your fbi jacket and hand him without a word, trying to ignore the way he makes it his job to linger the soft brush your fingers against his as he read the information.

“sunscreen? you know i don’t–”

“don’t like the feeling on your skin, yeah, that’s a spray one, not sticky, not liquidy and it dries out completely.” aaron listens to you intently, but still has his suspicions, being shown clearly by the way he furrowed his brows even though his heart was skipping several beats by your actions.

“what about the smell?” he’s properly fiddling with the bottle as if he was a kid with a toy, taking the cap off and trying to smell it through the sprayer, you roll your eyes and extend your arm to him.

“it’s unscented, touch and smell my arm, i’m wearing it.” you’re not really thinking it through when you almost shove your forearm on his nose, he obliges it and takes a deep breath, you feel the air leaving his nose in your skin and get suddenly shy.

his cheeks flush in warm pink, the product might be unscented but your skin smells like… you. he could recognize it from a mile away. he thinks to himself for a second and realizes that maybe if sunscreens had your scent he wouldn’t mind using them. and when his fingers softly touch your wrist, getting hold of it to lower it down, he is reminded of how soft you feel so he has no choice but to drop it or else he would be holding onto it for as long as you’d let him.

#lari writes sometimes #those are two different days btw #aaron x reader #aaron x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

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kisskawa · 1 year

Text

— kiss me quick

the first time you’d kissed iwaizumi had been delicate and affectionate and fake.

the focus of his grandma’s excited interrogation, you’d been bombarded with questions since your arrival and the kiss had been the only way to consolidate your clunky answers. they’d been awkward though true, and admitting your first attraction to iwaizumi had your tongue drying and cheeks warming far sooner than expected.

the kiss had smoothened your stammering words, endearing in their shyness. and perhaps most importantly, it had been enough to convince iwaizumi’s family to all take a step back, giving you space to let out a shaky exhale.

iwaizumi eyed you gratefully, gaze fond and ever so caring it made your chest ache. his hand hadn’t left yours since he had picked you up for the family gathering and he squeezes yours tightly. a thank you maybe, or just a sign to say i’m here, it’s ok.

but you hadn’t felt alright. not when your breath rattled through your lungs and your lips tugged into a forced smile, stuck in a way that hid your fake relationship, your true feelings.

you finally let the cover drop in iwaizumi’s car, surrounded by the comfort of his warm leather seats, the familiar smell of his cologne and the stack of pay-and-display parking tickets that tracked your chronicles together. the sigh that escaped you had been building throughout the day and now seemed unavoidable as your chest heaved. idle fingers worked at the seams of the passenger seat, trailing stitches up and down until iwaizumi’s hand lifted from the gearstick to place your palms together again.

“you ok?” he murmured, hardly louder than the radio’s static.

you hummed non-committally, gaze fixed on your intertwined hands as your feelings began to overwhelm, presenting themselves in the form of pesky heat, pricking terribly at your eyes.

a call of your name snapped you out of your haze, stern this time. and you realised iwaizumi was squeezing your hand once more, scenery no longer moving around you.

your silence didn’t last long, it never did around hajime.

“please don’t ask me to do this again,” your voice nothing more than a whisper, “i can’t do this again.”

“ok,” iwaizumi’s reply came simply, “i never meant to make you feel uncomfortable or bad, i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, eyes tightly shut, “it wasn’t. i’m never uncomfortable around you, i just--” your words choke you, but still, you will them out, tumbling gracelessly as they expel from your throat, “please don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it.”

hajime falters, “what if i do?”

your eyes open. “what?”

“what if i meant it when i kissed you?”

“i think,” you swallow, “if you meant it back when you asked me to come with you,” you peek a nervous glance at iwaizumi who nods, confirming your suspicions, “then you’re an idiot.”

hajime bursts into laughter, taken by surprise at the sudden return of the you he’s so familiar with, the you he so adores.

“you would’ve said yes if i asked you normally?” hajime checks once his amused guffaws have trickled down into fond little chuckles.

you roll your eyes, smiling all the same as you answer, “when have i ever said no to you?” hajime grins, lips curved as he presses them against your knuckles. plans run through his mind already, thoughts going a mile a minute with you by his side. the car moves off again.

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givemea-dam-break · 11 months

Note

okay so, consider this: jealous George

hasn't been done much, and jealousy is one of my favourite tropes. I'm thinking friends to lovers (obv) and you're free to make it as angsty as possible, as long as we get a happy ending :))) and you know what would probably hurt him most? When he's jealous of Lockwood bc he gets along so well with reader, maybe they just have a borderline-flirty dynamic (all platonic ofc) and George just has to watch and know he's never gonna be able to be like this (angst angst angst)

AND to make it MORE angsty maybe reader is really reserved around george but only bc she is so nervous (he doesn't know that ofc!!)

AND how about George confides in Lucy at some point that he thinks lockwood and reader might be into each other and she's like "uh yeah no, lockwood and I are dating"

Just throw in whatever cliché trope you can think of in there, i love them all

a/n: I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA OMFG YES THANK YOU!!!!!! jealousy is also one of my favourite tropes it’s great but i haven't actually written it all that much so i hope you enjoy! this isn't very angsty because i actually struggled with the plot for this, but hopefully you still like it lol

warnings: mild language words: 3.9K female reader taglist: @flashbackwhenyoumetme @irisesforyoureyes @aayeroace @waitingforthesunrise @ettadear @mirrorballdickinson @ella23116 (let me know if you want added to my taglist!)

Touch - George Karim

George had a habit of staying up late on nights where it was unnecessary.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep, but rather the fact that he didn’t want to until he was sure that everything was all right. When the agents of Lockwood and Co. returned to 35 Portland Row, safe and – mostly – unharmed, he could relax.

Well, he frankly could care less what ego-fulfilling stories Lockwood had to tell upon his returns or the colourful and new swear words Lucy had learned from Skull. It was (name) he waited up for.

Out of the three of his friends, (name) was the one who understood him most. She never pushed for him to speak when he didn’t feel comfortable. She always listened to him ramble on, whether it be for a case or purely out of interest in something, with her full attention, letting him speak for as long as he wanted, smiling and nodding as he did so. He felt most like himself with her around.

So, there he sat in the living room, glancing between the book in his lap and the front door, waiting for the familiar rattle of the doorhandle. It was cast in shadow, with only a thin streak of light cutting across it from the flickering crystal skull lamp in the hallway. Lockwood really needed to swap out the bulb.

When the tell-tale jingle of keys and the quiet clatter of the handle sounded, he sat up slightly and watched as she crept in as silently as she could. That was another thing George liked and appreciated about (name) – the fact that she was considerate for the other people in the house late at night. After a case, Lockwood would come in noisily, shutting the door behind him a little too loudly, and Lucy would be stomping around on too-creaky floorboards in her clunky boots. But (name) was always quiet.

It felt like George’s heart skipped a beat when she flashed him one of her enchanting smiles, paired with a little wave. Although the smiles were always reserved, edging on shy and nothing more than a curve of the lips and a sparkle in her eyes, it made his insides feel all warm and fluttery. The sensation had been new to him in the beginning, those first few times she’d smiled at him after she had been hired, but now it was something he yearned for. His days didn’t feel complete without it.

He opened his mouth to speak, but footsteps shook the stairs and, all of a sudden, Lockwood was there, arm draped over (name)’s shoulders.

“How was the case?” he asked, grinning.

(name) leaned against him as she tugged off her ectoplasm-spotted boots. “Couldn’t even call it that. Mrs Tilden, as sweet as she is, forgets that she can’t actually hear ghosts, and that the neighbour’s cat yowls whenever it gets too cold. I would’ve been back sooner, but all the night cabs were taken, and I didn’t feel like riding back with Kipps and his lot.”

“Well, you’re here now. Fancy some tea? Boiled the kettle not long ago.”

“That’d be great,” she said. When her eyes, sparkling in the dim light, turned on George, he found himself stuck to the spot. “Do you want some, George? I got some of that tea you really like this morning.”

And, as much as George wanted to agree, he couldn’t help but look at Lockwood and the way he so easily stood with her, holding her close and grinning. It should be George there. It should be him she leaned on after a case, him that made her tea and asked her how it went.

No, no. His feelings didn’t entitle him to her or her time. Besides, she and Lockwood had been friends since childhood, separated for a few years for educational reasons, so it was a given that they’d be close. He just wished it didn’t make his throat ache every time he saw them like they were now, standing close and laughing. Something he so longed to do, but didn’t know if he could.

So, he simply said, “No, thanks, I’m about to head up to bed.”

She smiled at him once more, the shadow of a grin hiding in the corners, and nodded before following Lockwood down to the kitchen, joking about the infamous Cat of Mead Place. Her voice seemed to reverberate through the walls and into George’s very being as he stared down at the book in his lap, the page long since lost in his distraction.

Heaving a sigh, he gently closed it and set it upon the coffee table, then trudged up the stairs to his room.

“So, you think that our ghost is the killer? That’s interesting. From the description, I would’ve figured it’d be the victim. Makes sense, though.”

George nodded, trying not to focus on the soft scent of lavender and something flowery as (name) leaned closer to him, studying his notes and findings. He really hoped she couldn’t hear the furious pounding of his heart.

“Well, it was the murderer’s house,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose a little. “It’s very likely that, even if it’s the old remains of the victim, it’s the killer’s source. Remember that bit in Hackney? Old teeth in a jar, but it was the source for that murderer.”

(name) shivered. “Don’t remind me. Still have nightmares about that guy.” She shuffled her chair slightly closer, casting George a short glance, before pulling one of the newspaper copies over. “Natalie Greymouth tried and imprisoned for the murder of her six children, later to – Wait, six children? So, in between all these other murders she committed, she was also popping out babies and killing them?”

Huffing a laugh, George said, “Suppose the kids distracted people from the fact that she was a cold-blooded killer.”

At that, (name) snickered, and a spark travelled down George’s spine as he watched her. The way she grinned as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, how her cheeks flushed for only a moment. It wasn’t until she turned her head to look at him, much closer than she had been before, that George felt stuck for breath.

Her smile slowly softened into something shyer, more private, as she became aware of the small space between them, but as quick as thought she turned away again, focusing back on the documents in front of them.

Hope had begun to form in that short moment, and it had tasted sweet, but it became bitter as Lockwood and Lucy burst through the kitchen door with bags of goods from Satchell’s. Lucy slid behind George’s seat, dumping an additional shopping bag filled with food on the kitchen counter.

“Hard at work I see,” Lockwood said with a grin. He leaned down over (name)’s shoulder, scanning the notes sprawled everywhere. “Makes no sense to me. I trust you guys have a lead on what we’re walking into later?”

George could feel his throat burn at the sight of them, but he swallowed the feeling down and looked away. “Yeah. We’ll give you the run down on the way.”

He tried his best not to look when Lockwood squeezed (name)’s arm. He tried even harder to ignore the grin she sent his way, so unlike anything she’d ever shown George, but it was impossible. It felt like trying to pretend that Skull wasn’t on the countertop making the most horrid faces ever. The action only ever drew his eye.

Her smile lit up any room she was in, and he hated that it wasn’t directed at him but instead Lockwood. Lockwood, who everyone attached themselves to – (name), Lucy, Flo Bones, the public. Everyone. Well, except for Quill Kipps and his Fittes lot, but George didn’t want them. He only wanted her.

“We’re splitting up.”

“Worst idea ever. I don’t like the look of this place.”

Lockwood snorted. “You never like the look of any of the places we’re hired out to.”

“Lie,” (name) said. She looked up at the towering house before them. “There was that one bit in Camden, remember? With the really nice, frosted glass windows in the door.”

“Before Lucy crashed into it and smashed the glass.”

Lucy went bright pink. “I don’t think that’s our focus for today.”

George watched as Lockwood nudged (name) with his elbow, eliciting a laugh from her, and tightly said, “Lucy’s right. We need to get this case over with. And pairs sound good – too much room to cover as one group. (name), I’ll go with you.”

For a moment, the rush of blood in his ears was all he could hear. What if she said no; that she wanted to pair up with Lockwood instead? George didn’t have anything against Lucy, but it got unnerving hearing her one-sided conversations with Skull. He was never sure if she was insulting him or the glowing ghost in the jar. And they’d probably end up bickering as they often did which wouldn’t help this case run smoothly at all.

But (name) nodded and offered him that delicate smile. “Sounds good. Think I’ve got some ideas of where we might find our source.”

“Care to share?” Lockwood asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“No.”

“I’m your boss. You’ve got to tell me.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Yes, you –“

“Let’s go,” George interrupted. His fingers were beginning to twitch. “Before it gets dark.”

And so, they did. While Lucy and Lockwood trudged inside and up the looming staircase in the centre of the house, George and (name) crept through the ground floor, taking temperatures and using their Talents. He did try, really he did, to not linger on thoughts of her and Lockwood, of their lingering laughs and smiles, but it became increasingly harder the quieter they stayed.

“So, what are your ideas for finding the source?” he asked, trying to break the silence that had grown between them.

Usually, George would’ve preferred the quiet, but this was choking. Every moment his mind strayed from the task at hand, it drifted over to the horrible ache in his chest and the twitching of his fingers caused by what could only be described as jealousy. Jealousy! God, even thinking it made him mad.

Why was he jealous? Because someone he had never explicitly admitted to liking was showing an interest in someone else? Because someone else would squeeze her arm or nudge her, when even tapping her shoulder to get her attention felt like it would make George implode?

(name)’s fingers brushed over an old vase, and she lifted it up, turning it in her hands. “Going to use my Touch on very specific things. This lady died, what, five years ago? And her nephew took this house, so he likely would’ve thrown out most, if not all, of the things belonging to her. So, we need to find the obscure things.”

“Like that restaurant with the porcelain egg cup as a source?”

“Exactly like that. The stuff no one would expect a ghost to connect to.” Her grin then was unlike the ones she shared with Lockwood, and though it was rather self-approving, George found himself drawn to it. It was something he experienced that Lockwood might not have. “Georgie, you’re going to find the strangest things in this room, and I’ll have a feel. This was one of our theories for the primary haunting, right?”

The words clogged in his throat. Georgie. It repeated over and over and over in his head as he swallowed the feelings that were building up. “Yeah.”

He glanced around the office they had ended up in and took the temperature, finding it as the lowest on the ground floor. It was a moderately sized room with a massive desk cutting through the centre with chairs either side. The desk itself was neatly organised with folders and pens all gathered in holders. An expensive-looking computer had gathered dust since the owner’s rushed departure a few days ago. Rather unassuming, on the whole, but that was exactly what she wanted.

“We’ve got an hour until sundown,” he said, peeking out of the large window. “I’ll watch your back.”

Together, they picked out a selection of seemingly strange things from around the office. An envelope rack; a rather rusty metal pen; a little glass horse ornament plucked from a display case, among many other things. But (name)’s hands lingered over a photo frame. It was a simple thing made from light-coloured wood, and the picture inside showed the owner of the house and his partner, so it was the last thing George would’ve suspected. This was what she was for, though, he remembered. Her gut instinct was much better than the rest of Lockwood and Co.’s.

“Be careful,” George murmured. “We don’t want another repeat of Lucy and Annabelle Ward.”

There was that delicate smile again, and his heart skipped a beat.

With a firm grip, (name) took the frame in her hands and shut her eyes. George could only watch in silence as she used her Talent, unused to having nothing to do in the meantime, and found himself staring. She was wearing the jumper Lockwood had gotten her for her birthday a few months ago, which had George chewing the inside of his cheek, but it was hardly his main focus. Not when the sunlight peeking through the curtains was highlighting her skin just so, emphasising little details he had only ever seen when they would research together, and he’d get distracted and stare. The implication of another smile in the corners of her lips, the curl of her lashes against slightly rosy cheeks.

After a few moments of frowning in such a way that left George with a smile tugging on his lips, her eyes fluttered open, and a proud grin split her mouth. George’s knees felt a little weak.

“Bingo. This used to have a photo of our ghost Natalie with her six kids before she killed them inside. Who’d have thought?”

It took George a minute to reply. His brain felt muddled, what with the brightness of her smile and the feeling in his chest. “I’ll go get the silver net. Our bags are still in the hall.”

“Lockwood will be well chuffed we found the source so quick.”

A moment of hesitation. One George hoped she hadn’t caught, but as he stepped towards the door, (name)’s smile melted into something more concerned.

“Are you all right?”

“Hmm? I’m fine.”

“George, what’s wrong? You were fine literally ten seconds ago and now you, well, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

George shook his head. “(name), honestly, I’m fine.”

“Did I say something? God, what have I said in the last, what, two minutes? Um…”

She muttered under her breath as she tried to think, and George really did try to push the burning feeling in his throat down. The embarrassment that, even though it was the two of them working down there on the case, she immediately thought of Lockwood. What more did he expect? He was nothing more than the second choice to most people – no, third. Fourth even. Hell, he was the last choice, and he should’ve realised that (name) would see him that way, too.

“It’s you and Lockwood,” he blurted.

And he regretted it immediately.

(name) looked over at him then, eyes slightly widened, and mouth parted. “What?”

He could only shrug as he looked away from her. “I just – I don’t know. Lockwood is the one everyone finds the most interesting, and I’d hoped that for once that someone might choose me.”

“You thought I would…”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence for him to know what she meant. George didn’t know how to explain the feeling that encompassed his very soul at that moment. It felt like drowning, in a way. Like these feelings he’d fought so hard to keep at bay were filling his lungs rapidly and stopping him from breathing. His head was submerged, and he couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t do anything but feel these horrible emotions so acutely that it was painful.

“I’m sorry. I get that you and Lockwood are close. Well, you’re probably together and I’ve just never realised!”

He didn’t realise how much saying the words out loud could hurt. But he was right, wasn’t he? With all of their shared smiles and jokes and how they always stood close, there was no way they weren’t… a thing. George had just been too blind to see it.

“George.”

“Don’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“George! Shut. Up,” she hissed.

Words caught in his throat, shocked by the harsh tone and the expression on her face. Brows furrowed; eyes narrowed – she was angry at him!

“Look, I am sorry, but I don’t get why you’re mad at –“

She stormed over and slapped her hand over his mouth. The touch made him jump, and the close proximity of their faces had his treacherous heart pounding in his chest. Why? Why did it have to do that?

“Listen,” she whispered, and she gestured to the side with her head.

George slowly turned his gaze to the large table where he could now hear a faint click, click, click. When he looked, his heart lurched for a moment, and he saw one of the pens in the holder move slightly. The button at the end, the one that would bring the nib out, clicked open, then shut, then open. A few papers in one of the many folders fluttered despite the absence of a draft.

“Poltergeist,” he uttered beneath her hand. He tried not to focus on how soft it was, or how the soap she’d used smelled very different from the one Lockwood had bought for him.

She nodded soundlessly, and her hand lingered for a moment before moving back to her side. “Move quietly to the door.”

It was a good plan. If they moved silently and slowly, they’d be able to make it out to their kitbags and secure the source seeing as poltergeists were essentially blind. But George could feel its invisible presence hovering over them like a horribly cold and scratchy blanket, and the house was an old one. As soon as he took a step back, a floorboard creaked.

He and (name) froze and, for a minute nothing happened. Then the clicking stopped and the pen rattled in the holder. The temperature of the room felt like it had dropped five degrees within a mere second and, although George’s Listening was nowhere near the standard of Lucy’s, he swore he could hear a faint voice calling out some names.

Another step back, and the mistake was made. The door to the office slammed shut, rattling the bones of the house. Lockwood’s voice echoed from somewhere above, calling their names.

Shit.

He should’ve paid attention to the room growing colder or the sun setting outside instead of watching (name) when she’d used her Talent. Maybe then they wouldn’t be stuck in this position, facing off with a ghost that they couldn’t see nor could they harm without securing the source. And, well, they had no way of doing that now with their bags stashed outside.

(name) was the first to move. Light-footed on the floorboards, she tugged on the door handle, but it didn’t budge. George could feel her panic as strongly as he felt his own, and he realised with dread that they were only feeding into the ghost.

The clicking resumed, and (name) shuffled over to George again, hand on her rapier. It would prove useless in this situation.

“For your information,” she whispered. “Me and Lockwood aren’t a thing. He and Lucy are.”

George’s gaze snapped over to her, and she offered a soft albeit nervous smile. “I don’t think now is the time for that conversation.”

“Oh, come on, admit you’re relieved. Also, you didn’t happen to stash a silver net in your pocket did you?”

Yes, he was relieved. He didn’t think he’d ever been more relieved in his life than he was in that moment, knowing that she wasn’t with Lockwood. He was confused for a moment, wondering how he hadn’t ever seen the connection between Lockwood and Lucy, but it was overtaken by the sheer happiness that (name) wasn’t in a relationship with their best friend. And, no, he hadn’t thought to stuff a net in his pocket.

The jealousy that had reared its ugly head in his chest dissipated entirely when her hand slipped into his, warm in the horrid freezing temperature in the office.

“How are we getting out of here?”

George wasn’t sure. He wasn’t Lockwood. He didn’t come up with reckless plans that saved their lives while inadvertently endangering them at the same time. He didn’t destroy houses in the process.

Well…

“You any good at throwing chairs?”

Hours later, George was still shaking glass out of his hair over the kitchen bin at 35 Portland Row.

Lockwood was standing over the kettle as water boiled, waiting to make cups of tea for everyone as Lucy slapped a plaster on a cut on his forehead. Apparently, after hearing the office door slam, the two of them had rushed down the stairs, only for the carpet the ran down the centre of them – for whatever posh, middle-class Londoner reason – slipped out of place, presumably because of the Poltergeist, sending Lockwood toppling. He whacked his head off the corner of the wall, earning a pretty nasty cut and a possible concussion. Lucy had come off scott-free, but Skull’s silverglass jar had a dent in the top.

(name) and George on the other hand were covered in little shards of glass that nicked them every now and then after sending a chair through the office window and leaping out into the flower bushes right outside. Thank god they’d been on the first floor.

Ever since that moment in the office, that one where (name) had told him about Lockwood and Lucy, the one where she held his hand, it had become blatantly obvious how wrong George had been about everything. Even now, he could tell that the energy that she and Lockwood shared was nothing like the one Lockwood had with Lucy. How hadn’t he noticed sooner?

Frankly, he didn’t really care about that now. He was too caught up on the phantom touch of her hand in his and the smiles she kept sending his way.

She’d held his hand in the taxi on the way home, claiming it was just because the poltergeist had freaked her out, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the entire truth. (name) was one of the bravest people he had ever met, so a poltergeist wasn’t going to be the thing to shake her out of the norm. But George didn’t mind.

He hadn’t ever been big on being touched, disliking the way it made his skin feel, but he found himself staying close to her, aching to hold her hand again. And, judging from the twitch of her fingers, the way they inched closer to his when he sat next to her, he figured she felt much the same.

And, with a smile, he wrapped his hand around hers, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his.

#george karim x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #george karim fanfiction #george karim #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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rewatch-review-react · 2 months

Text

NATLA Episode 2 Review

This episode felt mediocre. Nothing too stand out, nothing super horrendous. It is giving me Game of Thrones vibes in the sense of plots being mixed and matched (I’ve read the books and seen the show all the way through). The word Interesting is going to be the captain of this show, cause so much of it is Interesting in the choices it makes.

Once more the acting feels stunted, less so than in episode one, but no one is really bouncing off of each other. A lot of talking to the camera instead of each other, like they were told to make sure the camera picks up what they say, instead of having the camera move to pick up what they say if that makes sense. The Sokka and Suki interactions has been the smoothest so far, but still feels clunky.

Feel like the bending and fighting dropped a bit this episode as well. There were some fun moments, but again, felt stunted and telegraphed choreography than smooth flow of movements and action.

In-depth spoiler review below.

Well now, what to talk about first… Guess I’ll start backwards this time.

First off, No Foaming Mouth Guy. :( RIP he is missed. And no mention of Jasmine tea, even though we did get a Pai-Sho drop so I guess I’ll let it slide.

The build up to the attack on the island didn’t feel very urgent. It’s like they didn’t know what to do with Katara, so having them continually cutting back to her doing nothing felt more confusing than anything.

I’m also going to miss the fact we probably aren’t going to get to visit the Fire Sage’s temple. Aang meeting Kiyoshi first over Roku is very much a choice that will be interesting to see the fallout of. I get why, they are on Kiyoshi island, so meeting Kiyoshi herself makes sense, but also Whyyyyy? And Zhao also going to the island? Whyyy? And including Suki’s mother? along with more of the middle age population instead of it being just Suki’s generation and the elderly and the kids is ??????

I do admit it took me this long to realize that having introduced Suki does parallel Sokka in his responsibilities in taking care of his village, I know, I’m slow, I’ve seen the original more times than I can count and just now picked up on this, but I probably picked up on it now cause of the drastic changes, so plus/minus in that achievement live-action show. Anyways, moving on, It just felt wrong and off to have Kiyoshi as the First past avatar to contact Aang; Zhao did not belong on the island; and I don’t really know what Suki’s mother contributed to this episode.

I was looking forward to the Agni Kai as well, since this episode was titled “Warrior”. I was hoping it would parallel more on the different ways a Warrior is defined. You got Sokka as a Warrior, and then Suki and the Kiyoshi Warriors as another Warrior, and then I was hoping to get into the Fire Nation definition of a Warrior by comparing and contrasting Zhao and Zuko through their Agni Kai. But alas, we only got about half of that so there’s that.

As for the positives I did enjoy the Zuko tantrum. Teenage angst tantrum is key to Zuko’s early character. Sokka being the comic relief also landed better for me this episode. And Iroh being Iroh in both humor and subtle wisdom drops felt better. The characters are more character like so hopefully everyone settles into themselves as the show continues.

I do have to say I appreciate the Suki Sokka interactions. They were the highlight of this episode for me. Though sad we didn’t get Kiyoshi Warrior Sokka but maybe later, potentially, hopefully, you know, since they are changing and mixing things up, it is a delusional hope.

That’s about it for this episode. Sorry for not having more positive this time around.

On to the next one!

NATLA Master Post | Episode 2 Reaction

#natla #netflix avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #natla review #review #atla #spoilers #natla spoilers

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pattysplaceofplaces · 2 years

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Carmen x fem reader angst because why not

Also ur other story was so good!!!

-anonysnuts

Green Nightmares

Carmen x Fem Reader Angst

[Author’s Note: PEEEAAAANNNUUUT ANNNOOON! In all seriousness though; I’m sorry I haven’t been updating lately. Life has been getting unfortunately harder. But I’m not giving up on myself or on this blog! Much love!]

Blood pumping in your ears, lungs burning, stumbling over your own feet.

She was coming.

It was too late. She was much faster than you. All you could do was stumble as she propelled herself against the alleyway walls. A strong kick to your back made you fall onto the ground, rolling over on your back you could see the perpetrator.

“Carmen please! This isn’t you!” Warm tears down your cheeks, nose red from all the sniffling. “Try to remember…You’re against VILE…I’m Y/n, your girlfriend.” You reached your hand forward. “Please try to remember…” She grabbed your wrist and forcefully slammed it against the hard concrete. Both of you could hear the bone breaking and your cry of pain.

This was not your girlfriend.

“What’s with you people? You work with ShadowSan, don’t you?” You couldn’t speak. Lips quivering as pathetic whimpers came out. “You really think I would believe that lie?” She shook her hand and the grappling hook came out, comfortably resting in her grip. “Like I would let anyone hold me down,” The red device was aimed at you. “Not anymore.” The hook lunged forward, ready to dig its sharp edges in the plushness of your face.

With a gasp you shot up, hands on your face.

You weren’t in the alleyways fighting to survive, the place around you was a bedroom. Carmen’s eyes locked with yours as she helped you sit up with her. She was awake before you. “It was about me, wasn’t it?” You didn’t want to lie to your girlfriend yet you didn’t want her to feel anymore guilt. The occurrence may have been so many months ago yet it still effected the both of you. “Carm…It was never your fault..” Her hands tightened around the bedsheets. “I almost killed Zack! I hurt Julia! And-and I almost killed you!”

Her voice raised.

You flinched.

She was a monster. It’s not like they had made her one, she had always been a monster. She raised by monsters it was bound to happen. “Look at what I did to you..” pairs of eyes locked on the brace on your wrist. At least it wasn’t that clunky cast.

The brunette left the bed, grabbing the pre packed suitcase she had just in case she needed to make an emergency trip. “Where are you going?” You reached your hand forward, slowly getting out of the bed you two shared. “Don’t follow me.” Her voice was uncharacteristically deep, completely hallowed out. “I still feel it; The urge to return to something that has been pounded into dust.” This can’t be happening. Maybe you haven’t woken up yet. “I love you, I always will. But there will always be apart of me that won’t care if you die, that will only steal from you.”

Whatever Dr. Bellum did to her wasn’t completely gone. It wasn’t growing any stronger but it wasn’t leaving either.

You blinked and she was gone making you wonder if Carmen was ever real in the first place. A blur of red could be seen elegantly bouncing from rooftop to rooftop. Farther and farther away until there was only the black and blue of night.

You screamed her name knowing that she wouldn’t respond.

No one would.

[Author’s Note: Hope this wasn’t too angsty]

#Peanut Anon #Anon request #Carmen Sandiego x reader #Carmen Sandiego #Carmen x reader #carmen sandeigo 2019 #X reader #angst #Carmen Sandiego angst #Sorry I haven’t posted lately #Still love all of you #Much love!

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sylvctica · 2 years

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aid’s lil mini criticism of ToF that’s probably a lil disjointed cause I suck at explaining my thoughts sometimes ( at least from the viewpoint of someone who is a game designer and took a bachelors for it )

obvs this is all subjective, what i feel abt a mechanic or element is not the same as anothers, and this isn’t to disincentivize ppl from playing it; if u like the game, that’s the important part!!! 2 hours is not enough for me to get extremely solid in my final thoughts, but the fact that i still feel unsure how to feel, even after 2 hours is a little ... meh in itself

most games usually hook you in the first 20-30 min, but ToF feels like one long-drawn-out tutorial where even after 2h i still feel like i’m waiting to be introduced to stuff as i go along the story as i’ve been playing, and yet i’m equally being shoved too many mechanics in my face

obvs, i’ll be making comparisons to genshin bc they themselves dubbed themselves the ‘genshin killers’ ( i can’t find the immediate source, but it’s been brought up so many times + they even copied 5-star genshin reviews w/bots on their app lmao.... ) so it is an invitation for drawing comparisons

intro didn’t wow me. didn’t leave me with the same wide-eyed wonder i had when i booted up genshin cause you just get shoved into some ‘omg you’re being chased by a thing get away xD lol random look at all these things going on u don’t know about’ with no real sense of actual urgency to get away ( and a weird QTE section that felt very out of place ) ... like it’s pretty, but it’s not a ‘wow’ chief ( also fuck amnesia as a trope LMAO )

so initial impressions were subpar, combat feels fine, it feels fluid enough to fight on land, air, and to transition between weapons which i think is quite a neat mechanic in place of having different characters, although it’s not a new one, it’s pretty tried and liked. it feels a little clunky in some places ( i was laughing when i tried to dive attack and the character just kept floating forward and slowly falling ) but otherwise it’s serviceable enough

( things are dying way too quick with an SSR weapon though ... there’s no challenge and i don’t even feel like a beginner player who is given small things to help me adjust and learn the combat unlike in genshin which did feel like at least a gradual rise in challenge and power )

they at least make you actually use all the new combat mechanics you’re introduced to ( including their jetpack and ... a crapload of other ‘extra’ accessories later on ). problem is, that it feels like the combat and navigation mechanics are ... bloated and way too condensed yet drawn out at the same time? nothing rlly stuck with me

things like weapon upgrades are streamlined since the game just does it for you ( aka oh hey we just attached the materials you need to upgrade so don’t think about it ) which then forms a disconnect between you and the mechanic ( and even where said mechanic is located in the UI ) ... sure, weapon upgrades are automated through the ores in genshin, but in the beginning you don’t have those and your choice of how you feed weapons is a lot more limited until you become more accustomed to the game. here it’s so ‘wham bam thank u mam’ that it doesn’t even feel fulfilling or do much outside of press button do thing

story-wise you aren’t even given enough chances to really become familiar with the combat system because 80% of the story so far has been ‘go here. talk to this person here. come back. go here. talk to this person here’ and maybe you beat up a single boss or two in some places. you’d have to straight up deviate from the story to start beating stuff, and truth be told, i don’t have any incentive or desire to do so, unlike in genshin where i began early on to deviate and look around because i was inspired to dig my nose around the world

... i’ll be honest, i think the story is boring and bland too. it feels very hamfisted in introducing you to characters and trying to make you care for them. no, PW i’m not gonna care that your token uwu sister girl character is dying or something, i barely have known her for 2 hours and outside of her showing me around the camp and making me go on 50 errands to get her stuff ( like a damn filter that’s 5 feet away from me ), she’s done nothing for me. her brother was hot, but he also feels flatter than a piece of paper and i’d have cared more if he actually did shoot his sister. otherwise i have no idea what our place in the world is outside of amnesiac dude who is adopted by a camp while shit happens around him w/o any real explanation

the look of the world is ... fine, it’s ... generic post-apocalypse camp ... i dunno why they opted for the look they did, browns and greens although very nice, start to blend together when your world is just made of that and just canyon mountain things. facial animations are pretty good for characters, even if the lip-sync is weird ( but genshin isn’t free of that either with non-CN dubs so it’s a pass ) but actual body/motion animations feel weird and are very ... stiff

designs are ... bland too IMO, i’m not very inspired by them and i find the mechanic a little odd to be able to ‘wear’ a look ... why give us the option to customize then if we can just dress up like a cat-girl who acts bitchy regardless if we opted for male or female avatars? the customizer is nice, but perfect world has always made pretty decent customizers. though think about it, if people are more complimenting just the customizer and nothing else of the game ... what does that say? sure, you can argue it only came out yesterday, but ... food for thought, i suppose

you can also clearly tell it was made as a mobile game first considering they still have ‘tap to enter’ written on their damn login page LMAO

i’ll probably keep playing for a few more days to really gather my thoughts, but overall the taste i’m getting is ‘generic mobile anime scifi game with mechanic bloat and no real story’. if you enjoy more mindless games that are oogly button mash flashy, it works, but this is no genshin killer

i also have gripes with the company itself, but you can read this twitter thread for that shitshow with their CN beta, and i’m already familiar with perfect world and bloating an old MMO of mine with unneeded features and gross P2W so i already went in w/some kinda bias knowing what the company is like

aside from that thanks for reading my ... rant more than anything LMAOOOO like it’s an okay looking game but as said, it’s not a genshin killer and just honestly made me appreciate the looks, story, and gameplay a little more ( even if I still have my own gripes with it, but no game is perfect )

#[ ok its not that mini ]#[ it's more of a thought dump but ]#OOC // AID TALKS.

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suitsusboth · 2 years

Text

Season 2 simultaneously makes happy and sad. Happy because I think I over all enjoy it for what it is, but it could have been so much better.

Highlights of my favourite scenes:

— Anthony’s interviews in episode one (hysterical)

— their first meeting in the park (cute and fun)

— Kate overhearing Anthony with his ‘friends’ on the terrace and handing him his ass (amazing — perfectly set up their conflict) (side note I loved that she went looking for him 🥺)

— shutting the door on Anthony’s face and smirking (peak comedy)

— fencing (I love sibling scenes!)

— the whole races scene

— Pall Mall and the Bee Scene

— the flashbacks (heart wrenching and so well acted!)

— Pretty much all of Daphne at Aubrey Hall

— the harmony ball (pure Bridgerton family fun!)

— the gazebo (though, I think it was weirdly edited and I will never get over it being outside where they could have been easily caught)

— the Featherington ball dance (literally makes me wanna cry)

— Anthony’s speech (literal perfection, the best thing I’ve heard, no notes)

The bad:

I think the writing was very clunky and not cohesive throughout the entire season. I think episode six really highlights this, but it’s all over for a lot of characters. The Bridgertons themselves also felt very off to me as well. I didn’t feel the family love and playfulness as much as I did season one. At points they were literally downright mean to Anthony for no reason. I think they were going for teasing but really missed the mark. I hope that is improved for the next season. (They we’re also downright oblivious? Violet and Benedict especially?)

I know they’ve started to market this as an ensemble show, which sure okay I can see the thought process, however — you have to promote the main leads and storyline better!!! Also…maybe have better subplots? I can’t really say I found any of the other characters stories this season particularly interesting. Lady Featherington’s one especially, Colin’s and Eloise’s. I mean I sort of understand what they were doing - they were setting up season 3 just as they did season 1 for Anthony. But it didn’t interest me as much (note I went into season 1 knowing nothing and not particularly loving Anthony at first but he grew on me!)

Kate felt very sidelined to me at points throughout the season I would have loved to have seen her more fleshed out and I think this ultimately comes down to the lack of the Sharma family set up. The dynamic was odd. To me, I didn’t see a loving and caring family.

I think they tried to get Kate to mirror Anthony a little too much by her taking on the at the time traditional masculine role. Realistically for the time, Kate marrying would have been the best way to secure her family’s safety. I understand they wanted to close the age gap (totally fine with that, the age gap between E + A creeps me out, same with any other big age gaps in the show/books). The backstory just didn’t make sense. I would have loved to have seen Mary be more of an active character, she was completely sidelined and basically made out to be a absent parent? Like she didn’t care that much about Kate at all and arguably Edwina too. She just sort of let everyone else do everything. I think if Mary knew about the Sheffield plan along with Kate would have been interesting. I understand keeping it from Edwina so she could find a match without this overhead pressure.

Finally…the Edwina of it all. I think they focused so much on Edwina not being a plot device she kind of was anyways? They really dumbed her down and while she had some lovely moments (the Penelope at the party, when she spoke to Anthony about her love of literature etc). I really thought for a while she would cotton on to what was happening (Aubrey Hall, the lake scene etc) but nope. The wedding was painful to watch for a variety of reasons (I think it’s my least favourite episode and should never have happened but hey that’s television) but this really started the decline of the character and that’s just down to poor writing. It honestly felt like they wrote that episode first and then tried to work around it and it just didn’t work. (I also want to say I think the actress did an amazing job with what she was given, my complaints are in no way directed towards her). The immediate shift of blame to Kate as odd to me too. I’ve seen it been said that Edwina is more upset with Kate because she loves her more but to me at least it was obvious Kate had feeling for Anthony during the bangle bit but for sure that Anthony had a thing for Kate. I don’t know that’s just my interpretation. And I’m not saying the justification for Edwina’s anger wasn’t there, I understand the reaction. There’s just somethings you can’t forgive coughcoughHALFSISTERcoughcough. Her also taking forever to decide to go through with it was weird to me too (personally would have called it off immediately but hey that’s me) and really dragged the episode out. Finally I remember watching Edwina’s big speech in chapel with K + A and the whole “you have lost your power” but I got so confused I had to replay the scene I couple of times because none of it made any sense??? tldr: episode six was a mess.

What I would have found more interesting for Edwina would have been her not enjoying the Diamond title and the Ton as much as she thought she would and realising maybe this life wasn’t actually what she wanted (also befriending Eloise and having intellectual conversations would have been cool!). Also…meeting a cute scholar would have been nice (justice for mr bagwell)

#bridgerton brainrot #olivia speaks #i just have to rant to the universe because no one i know irl loves this show like i do #i love kathony but S2 really makes me want to scream at my TV at some parts #i remember my first watch through just being uncomfortable whenever anthony and edwina spoke to each other #she's so young #and he's so dumb #bridgerton #justice for kate sharma #s2

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devidoesnothing · 1 year

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Sonic Frontiers review

9/10. pretty much everything was phenomenal (music, story, gameplay) but they did fumble the final boss a bit (first part was easier than the rest of the bosses, second part was... well I'll just say a letdown).

soundtrack's probably the best one of the year, only song I didn't exactly care for was I'm Here (the main theme, funnily enough) but the boss themes are SO FUCKING GOOD HOLY SHIT THEY WENT SO NUTS ON THESE WHY WAS THIS SNUBBED AT THE GAME AWARDS

graphics are another thing I should mention, as shown in pre-release stuff there is a decent bit of pop-in but there was only one time I really minded it tbh. there were also a couple instances where the shadows freaked out, but again I didn't really mind.

controls are great, not 100% perfect but eh I doubt I've ever played a 3D game with perfect controls. Sonic feels great to control, though funnily enough maybe a bit slow. you can upgrade his speed at certain places, but it did feel a bit clunky to do.

combat's a crucial part of this game, and thankfully it works really well. there were a couple instances where I got ganged up on by some lesser enemies and they could attack me while I was attacking other enemies, which got a bit annoying, but it wasn't unbearable.

thankfully the combat was fun to execute, though some moves felt a bit odd to perform. probably just my inexperience with the character action genre tho. skill tree was cool but honestly I didn't really get why these were necessary inclusions. eh, probably just me.

just remembered, the performance. loading times could be a bit long, which did get annoying at some points (reloading my save, going in and out of cyber space, etc.) but at least with the cyber space there was the training stuff to do while you waited. nice time waster.

story's phenomenal, as should be expected from Ian Flynn (the main guy in charge of the Sonic comics since like 2006). Sage is an amazing character and I hope she comes back in a future game. really cool to see some more Sonic lore honestly, hope to see more of that

oh yeah THE BOSS FIGHTS dude the music combined with the gameplay and the spectacle of it all just became such an amazing experience every time, especially with the second boss. I'm not spoiling a thing here, these need to be experienced. (well, the main three at least).

so yeah all in all Sonic Frontiers isn't a perfect game by any means but it's just such an amazing experience that it's entirely worth playing for that alone. probably my favorite game of the year, though tbf I've only played Kirby and the Forgotten Land and Splatoon 3. buy this game. if you're hesitant, get it on sale. but you need to play this game. (at least on PC, no clue how it performs on consoles honestly).

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic frontiers #review #I don't know how tags work help me #game review

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kinetic-elaboration · 2 months

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February 16: Killing Time

I came home from work and immediately fell asleep and then I woke up in the middle of the night, confused, starving, and with a headache. I think I ate too fast. But I also just really want to go back to bed, I don’t care about anything, I need to sleep.

Anyway, I finished reading Killing Time yesterday. I really, really enjoyed that book. It’s kind of baffling to me that people are sometimes so harsh on it (I’m taking this from like… one post but whatever), and I think it’s coming from this expectation that because it was censored it must be, like, literal published fanfiction, which of course it is not. It’s a pro-novel. It was published by an actual publishing house. Like, when you come at it from that perspective, it’s wild that even the edited version was put out there. But if you’re coming at it from the perspective of K/S fanfiction and you’re expecting, first of all, explicit K/S of any sort, and second, a story that prioritizes romance, you’ll be disappointed.

Or it’s just not for everyone, which is also fine.

The book definitely wasn’t perfect but I liked a lot more than I didn’t like.

Stuff I didn’t like: I had mixed feelings about the style of the prose. Sometimes it was really beautiful but other times, it felt a little clunky to me. I wasn’t a huge fan of the overuse of epithets instead of names—sort of ironic, given that’s a cliché fanfiction thing. And I found the floating third person POV to be pretty jarring, especially in the early scenes, before I got used to it. I think I prefer when each scene sticks to just one person’s limited perspective. And even the floating perspective I’ve seen done a little more deftly. These are all nitpicks though.

More seriously, I thought it was… maybe a little long. I’m on the fence about this critique because I also probably read it too slowly, and I don’t know what I would cut or rearrange. But it did sort of drag for me in the middle and I’m not convinced that this particular story needed to be quite this length. (I have 100% said this about my own writing too though lol.)

I also noticed that there were a lot of plot lines that… weren’t really abandoned per se but didn’t actually lead to anything. The crewman who tries to destroy the ship isn’t really an example because he did introduce the concept of ‘the madness is making people self-destructive because they can’t stand the universe they’re in.’ But other stories were pitched in those same very heightened ‘this could change everything, this is dire, this is life and death’ tones and then they either had no plot purpose, or were just there to move the story one slight step ahead. For example, the Admiral’s order to invade the Neutral Zone does spur Spock and McCoy to more urgent research into other weird happenings, but then it’s suddenly averted for a different mission, and then averted again when the plot just moves into a totally new direction. I get that it provides stakes. But it’s also a tease. The Canussian mission is functionally the same—you can find the purpose, but that purpose is disproportionate to the apparent stakes up front. Even Thea’s plan of using Spock as the Praetor is sort of like this… I mean we do see him in that role a while, but we get all this information on what it will be like when he meets the Romulan Council or whoever, and then he never does. We get the build-up to his big performance, but not the performance. So there are always these constant little let downs that maybe aren’t the worst because the plot is moving along, but they do add up.

I do think a couple are worse than the others, like McCoy appearing to threaten Spock when he’s still in Pon Farr (maybe we need to do something drastic!!!... and then he does nothing because Spock collapses and Thea fixes it). Or literally everything about Sarela’s boyfriend. I fully expected him to be important later, and probably even be endgame with her. But though we do get the impression that Thea will fix Sarela’s marriage problem, probably by executing Tazol, we don’t really see the conclusion of Sarela’s story fully. In fact, from the point where she and Thea arrive on the Enterprise, she almost entirely disappears from the narrative: there in the background, but without any lines let alone personal plot development. And like I kind of get this, because she was basically a stepping stone to Thea, but she is a fairly major character early on, and I was attached to her and liked her. Details like the existence of the boyfriend, or Thea’s romance with her General, actually remind me of fanfic more than almost anything else in the novel because they have this ‘everything and the kitchen sink’ quality that’s common in a form that has few editors and no gatekeepers. Like if I’m writing fanfic, I’m doing it for the love of the game, I’m doing it to play around, and it’s often more important to me that I get in little fun details, or indulgent moments, or extra world-building, or personal head canons, than that I keep everything tight and focused. But I expect details in a pro-novel like this to be a little more purposeful; I expect to be able to identify foreshadowing.

I’m using a lot of words to work out my thoughts on this and it was my least favorite aspect of the novel—the sort of disproportionate stakes and the habit of dropping details and characters and stories when they no longer intersected with the main narrative—but it wasn’t the worst. Like it’s not a strong criticism, just something I noticed and felt some frustration and uncertainty about.

There was a lot I loved, though, in particular:

The characterization. At first I thought the beginning was kind of slow and I just wanted to get to the AU already but I think she took her time up front to prove she knew the characters and could be trusted making major changes to them in Second History. I thought the voices were just perfect, the mannerisms spot on, and the internal dialogue fitting, especially Spock's, which is maybe a little tougher given his alien nature.

The whole thing, largely because of the characterization but also because of the type of story, the sci fi angle, the intrigue, the crew working together, etc., felt like one very long TOS episode. Less so later I think—the Romulans would not have been so deeply explored in an episode, maybe a movie, and the ending was pretty sad for show installment—but the beginning felt so soothing and fun for me. And the plot as a whole, even as it expanded and got more complex, had a very Classic Trek feel.

The Romulans! Look, D.C. Fontana was objectively correct that the Romulans were the best antagonists, and I really liked how they were developed here. I’ve adopted all of this as my Romulan culture head canon. I loved, loved, loved my favorite TOS guest star Thea coming back and getting more personality and back story and I was really fond of Sarela as well—and their little sexually charged friendship, I said what I said. They were sympathetic while still being IC as members of a colonizing, warlike, violent culture, with a little bit of a Pre-Reform Vulcan flair.

The K/S Stuff. Absolutely wild that this was published. It’s not the little details here and there: it’s the romance baked into the core. It’s like the show but more obvious. I mean as soon as I saw both how important the K-S mind link was and how casually it was included I was like… this person knows The Premise. Like, I’m not even that into the mind link stuff (touch telepathy ftw) but it’s such a big thing in K/S fandom. If you know you know. But also the whole fated to be thing, Thea’s jealousy, the obvious paralleling of Kirk and Thea and the way Spock is posited as making a CHOICE between them. What man is worth the whole universe? Dying in each other’s arms? Okay sir. Just two bros in a hot tub chilling six feet apart because they’re not gay.

The science fiction aspect. I really like time travel stuff, it’s one of my favorite tropes, and I thought it was explored in a really thoughtful and interesting way here. I liked the idea that the Romulans do this a lot, and I liked the sort of… fragility or perhaps strength of the universe, the unexpected consequence aspect.

Look, I rank real TOS episodes (and movies) based mostly on a balancing of three criteria; is the science fiction aspect interesting; is the characterization good; and is the plot enjoyable/well-constructed? Some TOS episodes are fun to watch and well plotted but have iffy characterization. Some have a great sci fi concept but the plot is not as tight or coherent as it could be. Etc. Etc. The best have all three. I think Killing Time had excellent characterization and an A+ sci fi idea and the plot was fun, complex, and interesting, and it all tied together well in the end. As I said above, I had some mixed feelings about some aspects of its construction. But not so mixed to change my opinion of the whole. So overall I’d say, a good read, a fun time, would recommend.

#the year 2024 #2024: reading #this took me forever bc i kept getting distracted and waking myself up... oh well #idk what i will read next.... i was poking at re-reading jealousy and i may just do that

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thoughts-feelings-musings · 10 months

Text

1.7.23

Ok. So. Hahahaha. Sexual debut complete. Hahaha. Wow.

Ok so many thoughts. I was more confident with my body than I thought, I didn’t actually feel insecure. I felt nervous and awkward about my inexperience and the fact I don’t know what I’m doing and it’s all a bit clunky. But that’s ok!

I couldn’t stop apologising. So he kept saying “stop saying sorry” and then I’d respond “sorry” and it was a loop.

Clinic was open downstairs to begin. Oooops. Sorry boss. Might be a VERY awkward conversation on the horizon.

I still have a weird thing about like bodily fluids though. My squeamishness extends from gore to bodily fluids apparently. Or kissing.

He did make me, you know… get there. It was great. Almost passed out. TMI. But that was digital stuff. The real deal, that was painful. Maybe his size. Maybe my nervousness.

I think maybe, just maybe, I am experiencing vaginismus. I’ll cross that bridge as I come to it. Nothing I can’t work on though.

He’s asleep in the bedroom.

I made him build the sofa the moment he got here. I’m a bad person. Or just a very very resourceful young woman.

I just feel like such a weight is lifted. It’s done, I’ve done it, I don’t have to worry about the first time any more.

Now begins the constant pregnancy and STI paranoia. I’ll get tested in a few weeks. I know it’s not ideal, but I’m not going to let my sexual perfectionism harass me about this. It’s whatever. People get STIs, accidentally pregnant. I’ll deal with it. It’s a part of the risk you take.

Lots of laughter lots of fun. Lots of honesty and realness with one another. He’s a cutie. Fucking hot. Like, body to die for. Tattoos. Curly hair. Oh my. Pretty puppy dog eyes. Is it emasculating to call a man pretty? Well he is. So who cares.

Anyways.

It’s weird sleeping in a bed with another human. Holding hands. Weirrrrdd. I think I like it though.

Part of my brain goes, oh shit, this is so dangerous. So scary. He’s so much stronger than I am and my life has taught me to be afraid.

But whatever happens I can survive. I’m not putting myself in danger I don’t think.

This also proves this is not like what happened with W in Dec/Jan. it doesn’t feel so sparkly. But not in a bad way, just in a “I’m not in a manic episode” way. Because I’m actually not. I’m making these decisions fully with my full self. I think.

Maybe my body is ok. Maybe it’s nice. Maybe I can be attractive to people. Maybe.

I’m not sure how fussed I am about relationships and love and any of that. I want someone to get that I just want a close friendship, and occasional sex and DIY tasks to be completed.

I might end up hurting him. We’ll see. It’s not a problem if I do. People get hurt.

I need to be really real with myself. You are more likely to hurt others than they are to hurt you. I’m my mothers daughter after all. I am like my older sister. I have learned how to keep myself safe by striking out first. And even when I’m already safe, I think I enjoy the game of it all. The manipulation, the performance. That’s not a good thing. But I think it’s what’s going on. I need to work on that.

Baby steps, though. Find your feet with this stuff and then we’ll go from there.

Well done, me. You did it. 21 years of horrendous fear and anxiety, all for nothing. As usual.

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mars-ipan · 2 years

Text

OK i wanna share my thoughts on splatoon 3 stuffs rq:

i really really liked the tacticooler. even if it didn’t actually boost me all that much it made me feel invincible and then when i did die from my hubris i got a 1 second respawn. actually lovely

the fucking shark thing (tired didn’t use it much can’t remember the name) is SO scary and hard to react to because of how fast it is. i think in the future they should lower the size of the explosion at the end of the special

crab tank good. clunky but good and i liked finding good spots to use it

also the killer wail 5.1 i got SO many kills with that thing. lovely <3

tricolor turfwar is really fun but can also be really frustrating. in my experience the defending and attacking teams had a pretty fair win ratio, but OH MY GOD if you’re an attacking team and your teammate does not communicate with you it feels impossible. wait to do a rush until i am there to give you cover jesus dude

the launching in is really good. you actually regain your mobility just before landing so you can move a bit forward/back from your land point. be careful not to fall bc of this though

ok maybe it’s bc i didn’t play splatoon 1 maybe it’s bc i mained inkbrush and dualies but. mahi mahi just. isn’t for me lmao

SCORCH GORGE ON THE OTHER HAND????? tbh probably my favorite stage that shit is SO fun. if ur a brush try charging into ur enemy’s base over the grate you can lead a beautiful push it’s just genuinely gorgeous. i bet it’ll be a good rainmaker stage

the lobby has a little guy called a copy machine!!! he responds to your inputs (shoots when you do and throws bombs when you do) so you can use him to practice dodging and get used to bullets being fired at you. it’s really cool and i like it but i hope we can change the weapon he uses someday

*shaking nintendo* Where Is Spike. Where Is He. crusty sean gets to at least be on the app Where Is My Boy Spike Tell Me Right Now

deep cut are all so fun. i love them a lot n they all seem to get along so well

wish we got to do more with the clams we got from x10 battles. i really wanted to use them with the gacha but i couldn’t 😔

i didn’t try them out but a lot of the new abilities seem really cool. dodge roll for superjumps. better squid actions. special power up might be an older one but i don’t remember it and it sounds super cool

the stringer seems really interesting!!! it’s like an alternate charger, and the blasts from the charge are super cool

while splatana isn’t for me i saw some ppl call it a “bad inkbrush” so here’s my two cents: you shouldn’t be playing splatana like an inkbrush. inkbrush is a turfing, speed, and melee weapon. splatana is a pure fighting weapon that, when used properly, can do big damage from far away. the two require very different playstyles. if you go into splatana expecting an inkbrush you will be disappointed. who goes to a phone booth expecting a mailbox?

even though i very much hope paper won the fest i’m just happy i even got to play in the first place- really solidified to me that yes i do love this game it is so fun

#had so much fun today :]#was a good time

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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

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Home

yandere!EraserMic x Reader

Mic skips a couple of steps and brings their darling home earlier than planned.

18+ only

tw: mention of blood, kidnapping, restraints

Hizashi felt panic bubble up his throat as he aggressively ran his fingers through his hair. This wasn't good, he wasn't good. He fumbled around trying to pull out his phone so he could message Shota.

-Sho, when are you getting home???

Probably in a few hours...-

why-

Shaking, the blonde continued:

-I brought her home

Hizashi was convinced he'd burn a whole in the rug with his pacing. Staring at his phone screen it looked like Shota was responding, then it stopped, started, stopped, and started. Finally after what felt like forever he got a simple reply:

I'll be home in 15 -

---

"Mic, what did you do?" Aizawa sighed. The grumpy man intended to scold his partner but he couldn't bring himself to do so when Mic was so close to a full on panic attack.

"She agreed to meet up with her ex, he was talking about getting back together and I panicked."

Aizawa sighed; he understood where his partner was coming from. Even though Hazashi had abandoned their plan to wait, he was no longer surprised by Mic's actions. There was an understanding between the pair as the atmosphere softened.

Mic lead him down the basement stairs, instead of using the overhead light there was already a dull glow from nightlight that allowed the Pro Heroes to see well enough. On the bed in front of them the comforter rose and fell along with the breath of their darling.

"She should be asleep for another hour or two," Mic whispered. "I only cuffed one wrist to the bed, I figured without her quirk she won't be too troublesome."

Aizawa lovingly rolled his eyes. His partner was such a softy. Nodding in agreement he moved the blanket aside to see the clunky metal quirk-cancelling cuff encircling her ankle. The two had plenty of equipment from their jobs that allowed them to make a "safe" space for their girl.

The couple had stumbled across you on accident; you worked at the new cat cafe that opened near their home. The two quickly became regulars and you snagged their hearts when you recognized them as cafe regulars. They went every Sunday, you had their orders memorized and even told them which cats seemed to miss them the most. Hizashi fell hard and fast. It wasn't until Aizawa found you crying in the ally after one of your shifts that your fate was sealed. You told him that one of the cats ran out of the cafe earlier that day got hit by a car. Learning about the death of a cat wasn't the only thing breaking his heart.

When he got home that evening he told Hizashi. They both agreed that you needed to be protected, shielded from the pain of reality, and never subjected to cat-death-by-car ever again. Essentially they baby proofed their home for you. Anything dangerous (from silverware to chemicals) was locked away. Eraserhead installed cameras throughout the house that streamed to both of their phones. The windows were locked and shatter resistant and they even installed a top of the line security system.

Then came the stalking, both kept tabs on you - in their minds they both casual about it. Aizawa even visited you (broke in) one night to bug your phone. This was how the learned about your ex. The breakup was amicable enough that you two occasionally checked in on each other. After all, you had been together from middle school all the way through your teens. The two of you just wanted and were ready for different things.

---

Sure enough, two hours later they could hear your faint scream travel up from the basement. Mic had taken care of the acoustics, of course. He made sure that not a peep could be heard from outside of the house; even before you were in the picture this was in place for his quirk. Between each floor of their house he also added sound minimizing flooring and installation. They needed to be able to hear you but also maintain their sanity.

"M-mr. Yamada? Mr Aizawa?"

Your wide eyes were filled to the brim with tears. As Mic sat on the edge of the bed you withdrew as far as you could from him.

Aizawa seemed more conscientious of your space; instead he knelt in front of the bed so he was at least on your level.

He was the first to speak, "There's no need to scream, y/n, you're safe here. It's just Zashi and I."

The tears finally spilled over. You tried asking them to let you go, that you wouldn't say anything. You told them you had work this evening (even if you didn't) and that they'd know something was wrong if you didn't show up. What made it worse was that the men just kept nodding, taking in every plea you made.

Finally Mic cut you off, "You don't have to worry about work anymore, me and Sho are gonna take care of you, it'll be great. We won't have to wait a whole week to spend time together."

"You can't," You hiccupped, "this is illegal. Once they find out you'll be in trouble."

It was as if they didn't hear you. Mic just kept rambling about what you three could do together and how perfect everything was and how you'd love living with them.

Aizawa on the other hand sighed and indicated to Mic that he should get off the bed. "It's a lot to take in right now, new environments can be scary. You should get some more rest, Zashi gave you a pretty strong sedative."

That explained the pounding in your head. You didn't bother to keep yelling as the ascended the stairs. Instead you focused on not crying. You kept telling yourself that now wasn't the time for tears. You needed to get away from your abductors. You had never been in handcuffs before, you tried pulling against the bed frame in hopes that something would give way. As you expected, nothing really happened. The cuff was secured tightly around your wrist and with every pull came a dull pain in your hand. There wasn't anything useful within your reach.

After crying on the bed for what felt like an eternity you were all out of tears. You thought back to a movie you saw last summer, this detective was cuffed to a furnace and he pulled his hand free. However, that guy definitely lost the flesh on his hand and probably broke something. Your stomach churned at the thought. Then your mind wandered to terrible things the men could do to you. What if they were cannibals? Or wanted to sell your organs on the black market? Weighing the pros and cons you began to pull violently away from the bedpost. The metal dug into your skin and you couldn't help but scream. Hopefully your captors wouldn't come until you were free. There was a small window at the very top of the adjacent wall maybe you could squeeze through.

The searing pain became too much and you stopped to collect yourself. There were already gashes along the base of your wrist and blood coated the handcuffs. You stifled a cry as you resumed your work. You let out a blood-curdling scream when you felt a pop. Instead of freedom, you felt even more trapped. Your thumb looks wrong and looked like it was caught half way in the handcuff and halfway out. Movies make everything seem so much easier.

Light poured in as the door to the basement opened. Panicking you concealed the evidence under the blanket. Both of your hands and parts of your clothes were painted with blood.

"Hey kitten," Aizawa cooed. "We brought you some water. Are you feeling any better."

It was Mic who noticed first. You flinched as his hands cupped your face, his thumb ran along your cheek and you felt something slick.

His voice was rushed and panicked, "Sweet girl, this is blood. Shota come here, y/n is bleeding."

The blonde man handles your face and neck trying to find the source of the bleeding.

You pulled the blanket tighter, "I'm okay, please let me go."

Then Aizawa noticed the specks of blood on the sheets. He tugged at the blankets until you couldn't hold on any more. You were really only holding on with one good hand. You couldn't recall seeing that much emotion on his face in the past.

"Mic go get the first aid kit, now," Eraser's voice was strained and quiet but it sent the other man scattering up the stairs. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the cuff. Instinctively your cradled the hand to your chest, crying for the umph-teenth time that day. The scruffy man pulled you on to his lap, cradling your head to his chest like you would a child.

"You're okay, Mic's gonna get the first aid kit and we're gonna get you all taken care of."

When it came to flight or fight involving direct confrontation, you chose the third option: freeze. You focus on your breathing as the man continued to soothe you. You could hear Mic nearly throw himself down the stairs as he made his was back to your side.

Mic was gentle with your wound, after cleaning the blood off the cuts were visibly deep but not as bad as it seemed. Aizawa told him that it looked like your thumb was dislocated and that he would fix it once the bleeding stopped.

As Hizashi continued to apply pressure you were able to hear him sniffling as he held back tears of his own. Aizawa reached over to comfort Mic as he continued his fawning over you, "You're safe, everything's okay now. We should've known that you would get scared, all by yourself down here. We won't leave you alone again, especially while you're adjusting to your new home."

#yandere erasermic #yandere eraserhead #yandere present mic #yandere aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yanderes x reader #yandere erasermic x reader

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red-archivist · 3 years

Text

Not quite part of the liveblog but, lil post-092 hc fic :3

As he leaves Elias’ office, Jon’s feet automatically take him down the stairs leading to the archives.

It is a habit that his long absence hasn’t managed to break but he stops himself from walking straight into his own office.

To do so, he would have to pass the open space where the assistants work, and call him a coward but he just isn’t quite ready to see the state that Elias’ little reveal has left the others in.

He retreats to the breakroom instead, keeping the lights off and taking a moment to take a few steadying breaths in the cool darkness.

As soon as he stops moving, the injuries he has been ignoring loudly make themselves known.

The constant ache of his burned hand provides a low steady hum of contrast to the staccato pulse of his throbbing throat.

He needs to clean them both up in order to avoid infection, and if he doesn’t want some concerned passer-by to call an ambulance on him when he leaves, he will have to bandage his neck as well.

He walks to the nearest press and begins rooting around for the first aid kit. It doesn’t seem to be where he last saw it months ago and a stumbling search in the dim light reveals nothing to him.

Jon is about to give up and just try to give himself a bit of a rinse in the sink when suddenly the door creaks open, and the lights click on behind him.

He whirls around with his heart in his bloody throat expecting something to pounce on him. Perhaps it is Tim come to take his weary anger out on him? Or Daisy aiming to finish what she started? Or maybe Elias with some other unsolvable puzzle to dump into his lap?

The fright only lasts an instant however, when he sees who is standing in the doorway looking even more surprised to see him.

“Martin,” He sighs with relief.

Martin’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he manages to find his voice.

“Uh, h-hi?”

“…Hi. Did you- Ah. W-Was the first aid kit moved?” Jon points to the mess he has made of the open presses.

Martin jumps in place before rushing forward.

“Oh! Uh, y-yeah, sorry!”

He crouches down to pull the kit out from under the sink and when Jon raises a questioning eyebrow, he shrugs meekly.

“Melanie moved it,” He says, “She said we all had to be able to reach it in an emergency.”

“Right.”

He takes the box from Martin with just one hand, keeping the bandaged one away from his body at an angle so it won’t bump into anything.

It’s a heavy, clunky thing and hoisting it onto the counter makes his joints sting. Ignoring the pain, he flips the latch and starts rummaging through it. A thin roll of bandages, antiseptic cream, gauze and dressing are placed in a pile on the counter as he mentally goes through the half-remembered steps of cleaning an open wound.

Just as Jon starts to unravel the hand bandage, the side of his face burns with awareness. He looks over to find Martin staring at him.

His gaze lingers on his hand, taking in the old bandages and his cracked nails, both still caked in grave dirt. Jon does his best not to squirm under the scrutiny.

When Martin’s eyes dart to the mound of medical supplies Jon is compiling, he also realises he is taking up most of the counter space.

“Am I… in your way?” He asks, about to sweep it all to the side.

Martin starts, as if he just remembered where he was and stammers as he turns away from him

“N-No! Sorry, sorry!”

He fusses with the kettle, taking out mugs as it boils, and does not face Jon again.

Jon is glad for the privacy. He doesn’t want to look at his own hand any longer than he has to, no-one else needs to see it.

As he peels the rest of the dirty wrappings off, they catch on his ruined skin and he can’t quite hold back a pained hiss. The burn is still dreadful to see, blistered like bubbling wax and so red it’s almost black. It weeps a clear discharge, making the whole thing reek a fluid, animal smell.

He rinses it off in the sink, pats it awkwardly dry, smears the whole thing in antiseptic cream and clumsily wraps it up again. It’s a messy, slow process and he barely remembers to clean his other hand as well.

Martin stays stock still as he works, standing guard over two brewing mugs and, as he glances at him, Jon can practically see the questions he wants to ask in the stiff line of his shoulders.

Jon feels both grateful and guilty that Martin holds his tongue. He owes him answers but his mouth is so tired of talking.

Tentatively, he starts prodding at the cut on his neck. It is long but shallow, already clotting. He can feel the skin around it is tender with a blossoming bruise. Daisy wanted it to hurt.

Jon pries his mind away from that thought. If he thinks about how close he came to dying today, he won’t be able to keep himself standing, nevermind clean up.

He just needs to get through the next few steps, and then he can go back to Georgie’s, lay down somewhere quiet and try not to have a complete breakdown. Laying out gauze and dressing, he wets a clean tea towel. He is halfway to raising it to his neck before he realises his mistake.

“Damn.”

“…Jon?”

Martin is peering over his shoulder at him, concern drawn in deep lines around his face.

Jon blinks back at him. He had almost forgotten he was there.

“I… uh,” He waves the tea towel, “I need two hands, should have done this first.”

He is going to ruin the clean wrappings on his hand. He will either have to do them again or wait to get back to the house and hope Georgie won’t be too pissed off to help him. Clucking his tongue, he weighs up his options.

“Um… Do you…” Martin’s soft voice cuts across his thoughts, “I mean, I can… i-if you want?”

“What?” Jon turns and sees him holding out a hand for the tea towel, “Oh.”

“O-O-Only if you, y’know, you’re comfortable with…”

Jon stares at him for a moment and regrets flickers across Martin’s face. He starts to draw his hand back.

“Uh, yes, no, I mean, I-I appreciate…” Jon stammers, “You don’t have to. I-I don’t want to interrupt… what you’re doing…”

The sheepishness fades from Martin as he chuckles slightly.

“I just came in to get a bit of a break from everyone else, really,” He immediately winces, “God, that sounded bad, didn’t it?”

“No… no, I understand.”

Martin smiles slightly and Jon’s feels his lips twitch upward in response.

“So, uh,” Martin holds his hand out again and Jon passes him the towel, “Might be easier to sit.”

“Right.”

Jon brings the gauze and dressing to the rickety coffee table while Martin wrings out the towel in the sink. They sit facing each other, and Martin scoots close enough that their knees brush.

“Can you lift your chin?” He asks, “And please tell me if I hurt you?”

Jon raises his head and stares into the yellowing florescent light embedded in the ceiling as Martin starts delicately dabbing at the cut.

It stings, of course. He can feel the edges of the wound prickle with pain as the meagre scabbing that covered them is wiped away. He hopes he isn’t letting it show on his face.

It is a little uncomfortable, letting someone else touch his neck. Especially someone he hasn’t seen for over two months. He peers at Martin out of the corner of his eye.

He looks exhausted. There are heavy bags under his eyes and the light from above washes him out terribly, making him seem even paler than usual. His hair has grown a bit, more from neglect than choice. His fringe droops over the frame of his glasses.

Guilt bites at the back of Jon’s mind. Without him here, he is almost certain Martin has been doing the lion’s share of the work in the archives. Melanie is only new to the position and Tim… Jon is doubtful Tim has been working at all.

Martin mumbles a pre-emptive apology as he moves the towel slowly over the cut. His touch is soft but steady, gentle in a way that is completely alien to Jon.

Martin’s gaze is focused on Jon’s neck, intent on washing away every speck of pain scrawled onto it. Instead of the sting of the wound, Jon feels something in his chest ache.

He can’t remember the last time anyone was this careful with him. That thought, more than the pinch of physical pain, makes his eyes water.

He blinks rapidly and rattles his brain for anything that will keep his mind off of how tender Martin’s touch is.

His mouth runs ahead of his head and he tries not to swallow too hard as he speaks.

“Martin… ah…”

“Sorry, am I pressing too hard?” The pressure on his throat eases slightly and Jon wills himself not to chase after it.

“No, no, I just, ah, I wanted to-” Jon bites his tongue in his haste to speak, “H-H-Have you been getting on alright?”

The pressure disappears entirely as Martin reels back to gawk at him, his mouth hanging open in shock. Jon might be offended at his surprise if he wasn’t too busy kicking himself.

He keeps babbling before Martin even has a chance to respond.

“God, that’s stupid- stupid question, of course you’re not-!” He sighs, “Just- Ignore me. Apologies.”

He looks back up to the breakroom lights, his face burning hot.

Martin chuckles.

Jon dares to glance at him.

The surprise has faded into something softer, a not-quite-there smile lingering on his lips.

“Yeah…” He agrees quietly, “That… is pretty stupid.”

“Well-! Pardon me for asking,” Jon snaps.

Martin’s smile grows.

“I’ve… I’ve got a pretty stupid answer for it though?”

“Uh,” Jon leans forward in his seat, “Yes?”

“Despite um, well, all of it…” Martin swings a hand around the room, “It’s… It’s really good to see you, Jon.”

He stares.

It’s Martin’s turn to try and hide from the scrutiny. Jon watches with fascination as he starts to turn a blotchy red.

He doesn’t understand. The last time they spoke, Jon gave him nothing but a weak apology after suspecting him of murder and invading his privacy for months. Martin should be angry at him, or maybe even afraid. Jon doesn’t want him to be, but he would understand if he were.

Instead, Martin sits in front of him with a shy smile and soft hands, helping him, missing him. Jon can’t possibly understand that.

He opens his mouth without any clue as to what to say.

“That… doesn’t actually answer my question?” He says weakly.

Martin laughs. Not a chuckle or a giggle but a full-throated belly laugh. It is a sound Jon has never heard from him before. His face feels even warmer.

As soon as he calms down, Martin shakes his head before delicately placing his fingertips on Jon’s chin and tilting his head upward.

“I guess not.”

He finishes cleaning and dressing the wound in silence. When he presses the dressing against the cut to make sure its smooth, Jon can’t help but shudder.

A frown crosses Martin’s brow.

“Don’t suppose I can convince you to see a doctor about this?”

“You suppose correct,” Jon sighs.

Martin clucks his tongue but doesn’t push him any further.

Jon is overcome with the sudden desire to sit in this chair for the remainder of the afternoon, resting in Martin’s half-joking disapproval with their kneecaps just about touching.

He is also keenly aware that that desire isn’t something he can afford to indulge in.

With a weary groan, he hauls himself upright.

“I… appreciate the help.”

Grabbing the now-stained tea towel, he turns away to toss it in the sink.

“O-Oh, uh, sure, anytime,” Martin says automatically, “Well, n-no, not anytime- I didn’t mean- I don’t want you to get hurt again or a-anything!”

“It’s fine, Martin, I know what you meant.”

He puts the first aid kit back under the sink and pats his pockets to make sure he has all the things he came in with. It’s not much.

“Right, I won’t be back today, but I’ll be in the office tomorrow.”

“You’d better not be!” Martin exclaims, suddenly loud.

Jon blinks at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re hurt! You need rest!” Martin squeaks indignantly, “Proper rest, Jon not just a half-day off!”

“I- Wh- You can’t stop me coming to work!”

“I bloody well can!”

Jon boggles as a memory suddenly strikes him full-force. He had tried coming back to the archives early after Prentiss’ attack as well, hadn’t he? Martin had practically carried out of the building. At the time, it was just another reason for Jon to be suspicious of him. Now, he can see it for what it was.

Martin cared.

He still cares, whether that care takes the form of washing his wounds or scolding him for his poor work-life balance. It’s not a feeling Jon is familiar with.

Martin still sits at the coffee table, arms crossed over his chest, colour high in his cheeks. With a wistful smile, Jon decides to let him have his way. It’s paltry thanks for his ministrations, but it is all Jon has.

“Alright.”

Martin’s glare vanishes under his shock.

“Alright?”

Jon nods.

“Alright. I’ll rest.”

“Oh! Oh. …Good!”

“It’s what, Friday now?” Jon says, “Maybe I’ll even take the weekend off.”

“Wow, let’s not go overboard,” Martin grumbles.

Jon snorts, hiding his laughter behind his bandaged hand. Martin smiles brightly and somehow, gets even redder.

“I’ll see you Monday.”

“Y-Yeah.”

Jon heads for the door. His feet are like lead weights and he already knows he is going to have to stop himself from napping on the tube. He can sleep properly once he is back at Georgie’s. It might even be nice to rest, for once.

He pauses in the doorway, glancing back.

Martin has stood up, his arms still crossed even as he flicks a hand up.

“See you.”

As he stares at him, Jon’s chest aches again. He is overcome with the urge to speak, as if that will ease it.

“For what it is worth… It is really good to see you too.”

Martin’s face goes slack with a look as soft and tender as his hand was on Jon’s throat. It makes the ache worse.

Jon turns away without another word, knocks once on the doorframe and walks away.

As he heads for the stairs, his hand still throbs, and his neck still stings but it is the hurt in his heart that distracts him. The sound of Martin’s laughter echoes in his head and Jon thinks that this particular pain is one he doesn’t mind keeping.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma 092 #tma fic #the great tma relisten #listen. has this scenario been written about more than once? yes. do i care? no.#you will get my interpretation and you will like it #the boys are PIIINNNNIIINGGGGG

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