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whindsor · 3 years

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the trials of online dating, part 2

hey @witchofinterest you’re still inspiring me btw

Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left-

Mika thought, with all the options available to her, that online dating in NYC would be a breeze. In truth, it didn’t even have to be dating. She just needed friends that weren’t her sister or her sister’s boyfriend.

Swipe left, swipe left, swipe - oh, hold on.

Mika furrowed her brow, glad that the handsome man on the screen couldn’t see the double chin she sported as she curled up on the couch. James Bucky Barnes. She’d heard that name before. Where had she heard it before?

A quick google search reminded her, making her sit up and stare down at her phone. Now when she looked at his picture, she remembered how sad he looked during the trial, how tired he was when he took the stand to talk about all the things that happened to him. TIME magazine ran article after article about the years he lost.

And now he was trying online dating? Good for him.

Mika stared long and hard at the screen. He was cute, and he also probably felt a little misplaced here in New York. Or, this was a fake account, and she would be disappointed. Again.

Hiking. Technology. Reading. Well, they had two out of three things in common.

Fuck it.

She swiped right before she could think too hard about it, going through a few more profiles before deciding that no one was going to strike her interest until she figured this James Bucky Barnes situation out. So she put her phone down and went about her afternoon, baking some bread for the week and cleaning the fridge out. She hated cleaning the fridge out, but since she was currently mooching of her sister in the studio apartment, she needed to do a little extra work.

She wasn’t surprised when her phone dinged later. She was surprised to find that it was James Bucky Barnes, accepting her match.

Interesting.

Her stomach did a flip. She wasn’t cool enough to match with the former Captain America’s best friend, and definitely didn’t expect him to go for the Romanian girl.

Had to be a catfish.

Mika: Is this really Mr. Barnes?

She was going to get to the bottom of this. If he messaged her back, then she could get on the web app and trace his IP address and see where it was registered. She wasn’t positive on the legality of that action, but safety came first. Her phone dinged again. A message!

James: Unfortunately.

The response made her laugh out loud, any thought of tracing his whereabouts fading. A catfish wouldn’t respond like that.

Mika: Deciding to try online dating? You’re becoming a real modern man, James! James: My therapist made me.

Ouch, okay, so maybe he wasn’t into the dating part. Mika was about to switch her tactics when he messaged again.

James: Sorry, that was short. Still getting the hang of this. James: You can call me Bucky. James: If you want.

Mika smiled down at her phone. There was something magical about the guy not caring about sending multiple texts in a row. Any girls she dated didn’t mind it, but men were always wanting to look all stoic. Mika found that the less they talked, the more desperate they were.

Mika: Nice to meet you, Bucky. I’m Mika. James: Nice to meet you, Mika. James: I saw you’re from Romania. Have you lived in New York long? Mika: Just a couple months. Moved here after the Blip. James: Oh, I’m sorry. That must be tough. Mika: Could be worse. I’m staying with my baby sister who is now, technically, older than me. Mika: How is it being back here?

Well if he didn’t think she was a creepy stalker, he did now!

James: Weird. So many things are different. James: But even weirder, some things are the same.

When Mika blipped back, it was hard enough to figure out everything that changed in five years. If the TIME articles were correct, Bucky was back in New York after leaving eighty years ago. She couldn’t even imagine how weird everything felt for him. And how lonely he must be.

Mika: So what’s the most important thing for me to check out? Mika: You know, since you’re a true New Yorker.

That was a safe enough topic, right? She hoped so. Centenarian or not, he was the first person to message her that didn’t ask for pictures, and she was in desperate need of someone chill. It took a while for Bucky to respond, long enough that she was utterly convinced that she’d said something wrong.

James: Totonno’s is where we used to go for pizza all the time. If you want good cheesecake, Junior’s is the best. Mika: Oh, I like both of those things!

She paused, hoping that the next message would be him asking her out. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy.

James: Let me know if you like them. James: If it’s any consolation, they still taste the exact same. Mika: Good to know. I’ve also been on the hunt for a Romanian place. Mika: Know of any? James: Not right off hand, but I can do some research. James: I spent some time there, before the Blip. Mika: Really?? Where?? James: Bucharest. Mika: No shit! I lived there! Mika: I was on the south side, in Rahova. James: …so was I. Mika: What apartments? I was Bloc 70 B.

The dots hovered, then disappeared, then hovered again, then disappeared again. Mika held her breath, but couldn’t maintain it long enough before having to take in a gulp of air. Bucky still didn’t respond. Was that too intimate a question? God, she hated this online thing sometimes.

Finally, her phone lit up again.

James: Did someone send you. Mika: What? No. Mika: I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? Mika: I know they weren’t the fanciest apartments, but…

Another ten agonizing minutes, then,

James: I’m sorry. I lived in those apartments too. James: I get spooked pretty easily nowadays.

Mika let out a huge breath of relief. Okay, good, so she wasn’t some inconsiderate asshole. Her and Bucky just had the weirdest coincidences.

Mika: That’s fair! Mika: How do I know you’re not the one following me?

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

James: I don’t do that anymore. James: That…probably didn’t help my case.

Oh thank God, he was just as awkward as she was. And at least he had the excuses.

Mika: Meh, not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me. James: Same. James: Wish I could even say getting blipped was.

Don’t do it, don’t ask it, don’t say it -

Mika: What’s the weirdest thing then?

Fuck.

James: When Steve tripled in size. James: Thought I was hallucinating. Mika: Oh God, I can’t imagine! Mika: It’s weird enough that Nicoletta is a year older now Mika: At least she’s the same size James: Do you have other siblings?

Mika tapped the edge of her phone. She never did figure out how to word this without eliciting a pity party. But hey, Bucky of all people would probably understand.

Mika: We had an older sister. She passed away. James: I’m sorry to hear that. Mika: Thank you. James: My sister passed away about 20 years ago. James: Obviously, I was not there. Mika: Have you visited her grave? James: Yea, in the first couple weeks I was here. James: Will you think I’m an asshole if I say it was anticlimactic? Mika: Not at all. Mika: Last time I visited Raisa I called her a selfish bitch so Mika: You’re in good company

Too much information, that was too much information.

Bucky sent back…a laughing emoji.

James: That’s how you know you were close. James: My mother got mad at me because Rebecca thought her name was “Stupid Baby” for a long time. Mika: Aw, you were much nicer to your sister than I was haha James: Well, it was the ’20’s. James: Things were a little different. Mika: Were you a flapper? Mika: Don’t lie. James: I would never. James: Lie, that is. James: I was definitely a flapper. James: The cutest damn toddler flapper you’d ever see. Mika: Pics or it didn’t happen. James: I don’t know what that means. Mika: It means I want photographic evidence. James: Cameras weren’t invented yet. Sorry.

Man alive, James Bucky Barnes was funny.

They kept going back and forth, attempting a more normal conversation. It was, Mika found, a very nice conversation. He was someone she liked talking to, and he seemed to enjoy talking to her too. Or at least he was really good at faking it.

“Why are you smiling so much at your phone?” Nicoletta asked later, giving her an odd look from her easel. Her boyfriend had already gone to bed, leaving them to watch whatever they wanted on Netflix. Of course that meant they put on a baking show and proceeded to do anything but watch it.

“Huh? I’m not smiling at my phone.” she said, tucking said phone into her lap.

“Don’t be dumb.” Nicoletta said, brandishing her paint brush like a knife. “Who are you talking to? You better not say-“

“Ew, no, not him.” Mika said, cutting her off before she could utter the name of her ex. “Just…someone I met on HiLove.”

“I thought we talked about those dating apps.”

“I’m lonely! I need friends.” she said. “He passed the background check.”

“Let me see a picture.” Nicoletta said, coming over. Mika sighed, thumbing through the app to find Bucky’s profile, and the one picture he had. She hoped her sister didn’t notice the two unread messages in the corner. “Hmm. Okay, he’s handsome.”

“Yes.” Mika agreed. In fact, he was becoming more handsome as the afternoon went on. “And he’s funny too. And smart.”

“Ok, calm down. You just started talking to him.”

“I know! I’m not like, proposing marriage.” Mika said, rolling her eyes. “I just like talking to him so far. That’s all.”

“Uh huh. I know how it goes with you ‘talking’ to good looking people.”

“About as well as it does with you.” she pointed out. “Pre Steve, of course.”

“Of course.” Nicoletta said. “Have you discussed future plans? Deepest fears? Favorite sexual positions?”

“I hate you.”

“These are important questions!”

“I’m going to bed.”

“No phone sex on the first day!”

“I really hate you!” Mika sang, pulling the curtain around the little area in the studio apartment that counted as her room. It was late, and she probably should go to bed anyways. But Bucky was still up, and they were currently discussing movies. Turned out, he was way behind.

Mika: Star Wars? James: Nope. It’s on the list. Mika: Star Trek? James: Also on the list. Mika: Pride and Prejudice? James: Isn’t that a book? Mika: And a movie! My favorite one. James: Guess I’ll move that to the top of the list then.

Was he…flirting? Mika couldn’t deny the smile on her face now, even as her eyes struggled to stay open. Nicoletta went to bed, and with the light off, staying conscious was becoming a struggle.

Mika: Good answer. James: Ever seen Wizard of Oz? Mika: …no. A little before my time. James: Ouch.

Despite the humor and the fun conversation, she could feel the fatigue setting in. She was so afraid to stop talking, afraid that tomorrow he would change his mind, or find someone cooler than her. But she couldn’t stay up all night anymore, she wasn’t in her 20’s.

Mika: Unfortunately, I think I need to sleep. James: I understand. It is really late.

She paused, tapping the edge of her phone. What was the worst he could say? No?

Mika: Talk to you tomorrow?

Apparently it was his turn to pause, long enough that she nearly fell asleep before her phone buzzed again.

James: I’m looking forward to it. James: Goodnight, Mika. Mika: Goodnight, Bucky.

She went to sleep with a smile.

#online dating au #in other news #i'm having too much fun with this #have 2k of awkward texting #mucky

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the-darklings · 5 years

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—𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓;

pairing: detective loki x reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: “Are you always…” he begins slowly, pausing to search for a world that won’t make him sound like a complete asshole. “...like this?”

notes: Never let it be said that I am not an absolute fool!!! This is set pre-movie so no spoilers for the film itself.

‘black coffee’ drabbles: ... | 02 |

The coffee is good.

That’s why he keeps coming in. The diner also has that typical, cosy American feel to it and is, in fact, one of the busiest in town. Certainly more busy than the Chinese place across the street he likes frequenting sometimes.

Coming here has become an odd habit ever since the Chinese place had to be closed for the day due to a burst pipe in the kitchen. He’d been hungry, sleep-deprived, and trying to solve a case and with no other option than to go to the nearest open establishment to escape the harsh October rain.

He came in because he didn’t have much of a choice. He stayed and kept coming back because the coffee is good.

He’s also become rather fond of his little booth at the back too. Sometimes he would come in and sit here for hours, pouring over reports and case notes, trying to connect all the little dots and make sure bastards that deserve to rot did exactly that.

“The usual?”

He pauses, his hand lifting from the notes he was scribbling in his notebook to glance up at the source of the voice. Your face is familiar because he sees you around the diner often—practically every day, if he comes in that often which he often does, even if only for a takeaway.

Truthfully, it’s hard not to notice you. You bounce around the place with a smile and a warm greeting to everyone who steps through the door. Like somehow working endless shifts in this shitty diner that could be paying no more than the minimum wage was somehow the height of living.

Fake.

That’s the first and logical conclusion that came to mind the first time he saw you. There is no way someone can be genuinely this happy and upbeat all day round and mean it. It’s like you’re dialled up to 200% at all times and it’s almost irritating but—

“I have one of those?” he questions slowly, squinting at you, “The usual?”

Your head tilts slightly and a faint smile lingers around the corners of your mouth, knowing and cheerful. From where you stand, it does look genuine but he still has his suspicions. People would do anything nowadays for a good tip.

“You’ve been coming in daily for almost two weeks, detective,” you reply amiably, twisting the pen between your fingers. “Of course you do.”

His eyebrows jump slightly and he scoffs under his breath. “And that would be?”

Your feet shuffle—nervous?—and you stare at him for a beat of mutual silence. You haven’t missed the slightly condescending note in his voice then. Good.

“Coffee: black, no sugar,” you say pleasantly, tapping your pen once against the notepad in your hand, and eyes moving towards the ceiling like you’re visualising the order. “For breakfast, you enjoy bacon and eggs. Though I do recommend our buttermilk pancakes. Joey adds magic into them, I swear. Lunch would be a cheeseburger and double fries. Oh, and for dinner, hmm, meatloaf which I didn’t take you to be the type.”

He’s not sure if he should be worried or pleasantly surprised.

“Are you always…” he begins slowly, pausing to search for a world that won’t make him sound like a complete asshole. “...like this?”

You laugh; a warm sound, pleasant too, if a bit too loud. Your grin stretches and you simply glance at your notebook, fingers fiddling absentmindedly.

“Well, I guess my coworkers would say yes,” you admit, a touch embarrassed. “I would say that anticipating customer needs and making them feel appreciated is a sign of good customer service.”

Huh.

He wonders if it’s really as simple as that. But every time he comes in, he does notice how you flutter around the dining room, interacting and chatting with everyone who wants to have a conversation. You do try your hardest to make customers feel welcome. Even if it’s nothing more than a job, he can at least acknowledge the dedication you have for a position most people would consider inconsequential.

“Coffee. Black,” he states after another moment of silence between you, having to fight back a smile at the way your eyes jump to him, amused. “And I’ll try those, uh, magical pancakes. Thanks.”

Your smile is of pure delight and you hurriedly scribble the order down—almost like him somehow taking your recommendation on board just made your entire day.

“Comin’ right up, detective.”

. . .

The coffee is good.

He can’t help but think it again—both in genuine appreciation and delight. Most places that sell coffee in this town only sell some weak, washed-out shit that’s a piss poor substitute for caffeine. He might as well add some salt and cement and mix it with water for how good or effective it is.

But as he sips on the scalding content in his cup, he can’t help but sigh. He can almost feel the dull twinge against his temple lessen. Fuck, how long has it been since he slept? He should probably try and catch at least a few hours before Captain tears into him again—though that worry has lessened with each new case he closes. As long as he makes the department—and especially the Captain—look good, very little matters outside of that.

He just wants to get to the new case and the case after that—not much else exists for him outside his work. He’s good at it. He likes it. What more could he ask for?

“Hard case?”

His eyes lift and he sees you approaching his booth with a plate of steaming, fluffy pancakes in hand. He’s not much for sweets but even he has to admit that the pancakes look rather good.

“No,” he answers, lowering his cup slightly, “Not really.”

Not for me.

It goes unsaid but the way your mouth twitches slightly to the side tells him that you likely picked up on the unspoken meaning anyway. He regards you critically, accessing, as you lower the pancakes in front of him.

“You work too hard, detective,” you tell him, expression and voice empty of accusation or judgement. It’s simply a statement, and he even notes the slight, worried furrow of your brows. “You need to rest to be productive. Besides exhaustion can place your life in danger.”

He draws a deep breath, peering at you as he blinks a few times, squinting, “That’s rich coming from someone who I see here every day,” he points out mildly, fingers tapping against the rim of the cup with that slight edge of annoyance he can’t quite quell fully. “Today is your eight-day in a row.”

Your face creases with surprise—almost like someone noticing anything about you is somehow shocking, and perhaps it is; you are as invisible as you are seen in this place—and this time around your smile is softer, almost melancholy.

“Well, we all gotta eat, right?” you ask, but he gets a sense that you’re not really looking for a reply so he keeps quiet, silently observing you because—perhaps—he is a touch more curious than usual. “Besides, I’m saving up. See, I really want to open my own place. Nothing big, just enough space for a kitchen and maybe ten customers—definitely something manageable. Somewhere where I can make fresh food, and stand back and watch people enjoy what I made for them. There would be kids and lots of sunlight and laughter. It would be warm. Someplace I can call my own. Don’t get me wrong, I do like it here—I mean I grew up in this town, so it goes without saying but…”

You trail off and the fond, dream-like tilt of your voice fades too. For a split second, he feels almost disoriented because for a moment he saw it too. You would greet all guests and know them all by their first names. You would be working every day but you would adore every moment of it. He could see you in a tiny kitchen, dancing around and creating to your heart’s content, putting all your positive energy into the simple art of creation.

“Sorry,” you mutter weakly and clear your throat. “You’re busy and I shouldn’t be bothering you with this type of talk. But yeah, if you want a good thing, you have to be prepared to work hard for it. I will make it out of here one day.”

No, you won’t.

It’s a cynical thought—and after hearing your dream he almost feels bad for thinking it—but he knows he’s right. If Huntington thought him anything is that life has a way of gobbling up dreamers like you and spitting them back out mangled and broken beyond repair. Time will pass, you will not leave: be it money, family, or whatever else is holding you back from going right this second. Eventually, you’ll be empty of hopes and dreams, living one day at a time in a cycle that’s like a noose around your throat.

He should know.

Your joy will grow into resentment, and your drive will sour into bitterness. All that’s left will be someone unhappy with their life and all they could have done with their wasted time.

It’s a shame though.

At this point, he can at least admit to himself that perhaps he was too hasty to assume you were playing pretend. Just an endless optimist. It will be a shame to see a fire like yours slowly dim with time. Because given time, you will wither like so many others have.

“Will I be getting a discount at this new place of yours?” he wonders idly, stabbing the fork into his golden pancakes as he takes another slow sip of coffee.

Your embarrassed expression eases, something warmer and happier taking its place, and you suit it a lot more than a frown. Some faces aren’t made for unhappiness. Tragedy and pain become rawer when reflected in them. That’s why happy people are always the hardest to deal with on cases—they don’t know how to hide their suffering the way others do.

“That will depend entirely on how much sleep you get before coming in,” you say, something joking and teasing twisting your voice. “I would hate for those bags under your eyes to scare the little ones away.”

His lips twitch into a surprisingly genuine smile around the rim of his cup, and he turns his head slightly as if considering your words.

“You should also smile more, detective,” you add, voice pleasant, thoughtful, “It suits you.”

His eyes lift to look at you but you’re already walking away, waving at random customers as you pass with few passing comments in between.

His expression twitches and he blinks quickly a few times, but his gaze stays on you till you disappear behind the kitchen door.

. . .

an: anyway I love one stoic, broody detective and giving him someone happy and positive to deal with is so damn funny. hope you guys enjoyed it. this was a fun little exercise (especially writing from Loki’s POV oppose to Reader’s) so I hope you all liked it. might write another few parts for this because I had so much fun but we shall see since I still need to finish Unbecoming. thank you for reading! <33

#detective loki #detective loki x reader #prisoners #detective loki imagine #jake gyllenhaal #fic: black no sugar #i'm taking the self-imposed 'kat write all jake roles 2k19' challenge to heart

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drblood-bringer-of-death · 4 years

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Yay! Another Tyrian x Watts fanfiction for Nuts and Volts week! Seriously I cant get enough of these guys! Anyway, hope everyone over at @nutsandvoltsweek enjoys it!

Waltzing into love

Warnings: literally just some mild cursing.

They hated it. Every single second of being stuck in the stuffy, crowded room full of pompous, rich assholes. Arthur glared at anyone unfortunate enough to make eye contact with him and he stayed as far away from the dance floor as possible. He hated parties as much as he hated people. He would much rather be back in the grimm lands, tinkering away at his inventions without a single interruption. But he was not the only one who hated being there. As grand and beautiful as Atlesian parties were, they had a very strict policy to them. No Faunus, No improper dress, and absolutely No exceptions. Tyrian, as sporadic and chaotic as the man was, unfortunately was the best fit to go with Arthur to this party. Salem decided that Hazel would be too intimidating, Emerald and Mercury were too young, and Cinder would have stuck out like a sore thumb. So Tyrian was voluntold to attend as Arthur's date. He sulked even more than Arthur did. He might have even hated it more than the mustached man. Due to the strict policy, Tyrian had to wear what he considered "constrictive" clothing. And worst of all he couldn't even use his tail! Arthur had insisted he hide it, since it was against the rules. Tyrian fought him on it, to no avail as he knew Arthur was right. So the two brooded in their fancy clothing in a corner of the ballroom. They avoided everyone and if it wasn't for Arthur's accursed reputation he would have never even attended this godforsaken party. Maybe he could figure out some way to fake his death or even actually die just to avoid these parties.

"This is pointless!" Tyrian growled.

"It's not entirely pointless, but it's Incredibly dull." Arthur retorted, focusing all his attention on his scroll.

"Why did I have to come here?! I hate this! I feel like I'm restricting all my natural instincts!" Tyrian continued to complain as he pulled on the dark purple tie around his neck.

"Stop pulling at that you'll undo it! And you know why she chose you to come with me. And stop tugging on the tie!" Arthur said angrily as he turned towards Tyrian, who had managed to actually undo his tie. "How did you even? Ugh just let me fix it!" Arthur swatted away Tyrians hands and grabbed ahold of the tie. Fastening it once again.

"Ahem, am I interrupting anything?" The unwanted and annoying voice of Jaques Schnee broke through Arthurs grumbling. His brow twitched in annoyance and he sighed before facing the unbearable aristocrat.

"Why Jaques, what a pleasure to see you again." Arthur lied through his teeth.

"A pleasure as well. Who, may I ask, are you?" He directed the question towards Tyrian who stiffened as a response.

"Uh, Tyrian Callows, associate of Watts here." He shook the older man's hand in forced politeness.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Callows. I had no idea Arthur was into such… interesting company." His tone of voice and the way he glanced at Arthur smugly, clearly portrayed that he suspected something else. "why I'd even say you might be planning something… more forbidding." Tyrian pailed, could he really figure them out that easily? He looked at Arthur and they shared a panicked look.

"Jaques if you're suggesting-" Arthur started to accuse him but Jaques cut him off.

"Oh come now Arthur, you know i wouldn't care if you were gay, it's quite common nowadays, and I've been suspecting it for a while anyway-" Watts and Tyrians faces went bright red. "I was simply baffled that you managed to find someone to deal with your arrogance." He finished.

"I-my arrogance- excuse me?!" Arthur said offhandedly. Jaques only laughed at him.

"Relax, you know that the General himself is gay right? Really it doesn't matter here, why not show some affection! Have a dance or two! There's nothing to hide." And before Arthur, pr even Tyrian for that matter, could stutter out a response Jaques turned on his heels and walked away smirking.

"Does he think-? I mean really?" Tyrian asked before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. His entire body shook with each inhale of breath. As he laughed and laughed Arthur's face grew more and more red, out of both embarrassment and anger.

"You shut up!" He snapped at Tyrian. Whose laughter seemed never ending. Making Arthurs anger grow.

"Re- hehehe- relax Arthur. Haha, as far as we know, this could be an advantage." Tyrian offered through dying giggles.

"What do you mean?" Arthurs anger sizzled but he stopped feeling the innate need to punch the Faunus. Tyrian wiped a tear from his eye.

"Well think about it. You could gain some massive publicity points if you came out as gay, and if we did it here it would be massively successful. All we have to do is dance a little bit and maybe hold hands. People will come to the conclusion on their own and it'll be all over the news tomorrow. "Infamous inventor Arthur Watts supporting his community through love!" Can you imagine that?" Arthur paused.

Unhinged, deranged, murderous, insane… and intelligent. Those are the words Arthur would use to describe Tyrian right now. As unpredictable as the man is, he could read people and play off them better than even Salem herself.

"That… could work." Arthur poundered. The plan was foolproof, and even if it went wrong then it would cause protests in the communities drawing grimm in. "Yes. It would work quite well." Arthur hummed to himself and Tyrian smirked.

"Well then let's get to it and put on a show!" He cheered in a manic giggle as he pulled Arthur away from their protective corner and into the center of the dancefloor. Arthur huffed behind him, not expecting the pull. Although he should really expect everything from Tyrian.

"I told you to relax already Arthur! All we need to do is dance a bit and act all coupley." Tyrian smirked again and Arthur got some sort of primal feeling in his gut to run. As if something far more sinister than even they had planned was happening. But he ignored it, it was not the first, or last, time he would have that feeling while with the scorpion.

"It's Impossible to relax with you" he retorted harshly, shifting himself and Tyrian into a waltzing position. Slowly the music ran through the room and the many people around them began to move to the three step beat.

"Your words wound me Arthur," Tyrian mocked. "I'm the most relaxing person I know! Well besides Hazel." He held back a giggle.

"Your a caffeinated maniac trapped inside a padded room. I absolutely do not find you relaxing!" Arthur all but growled.

"A bit touchy aren't you? Was it something that Mr. Schnee said that caught your nerves?" He smirked wildly at Arthur who tried his best to keep his composure. As he tried to calm his breathing Tyrians insane smile reached his eyes. "Oh my, your heart rate picked up! I must be onto something!" Arthur started to panic.

"You did not- wait you can sense my heart rate? No, nevermind that!" He attempted to gather his thoughts as he and Tyrian glided across the ballroom floor, sliding in time with everyone around them. If you weren't right next to the pair it would be like they were just enjoying themselves and not having a frantic argument.

"Poor Arthur Watts, not admitting that old Mr. Schnee was right! What an exciting evening this has become!" Tyrians giggles seemed to pour out of his mouth.

"Would you just shut up! I've already said that to you tonight, you psychopath! Now stop talking and lets finish this stupid dance!" Arthur was pissed off now, he couldn't stand looking at Tyrians pretty eyes or his handsome face any longer. So he decided to do something about it. As the song approached it's climax he brought Tyrian into a sudden spin, catching the scorpion off guard. As he pulled Tyrian back into him, he made up his mind. Placing one foot behind Tyrians and throwing his center of balance off, he dipped the younger man. He heard people around them gasp, some of them seemed shocked, but through all the noise he heard two distinct things. One: Jaques Schnee saying " I called it!", and two, Tyrian Callows' sharp inhale of breath. He pulled them back up. Releasing Tyrians lips as he did, and then he turned and walked out of the room.

Tyrian stumbled, that was not expected at all. He knew Arthur was gay but he never dared to dream that Arthur liked him. He got over the shock, more delayed than he'd like, but nevertheless he rushed after Arthur and found the man pacing an empty hallway.

"Why did I do that? What was the logic of that? It was pointless, im pointless. For fucks sake we're both adults why couldn't I just talk to him!?" Arthur mutters to himself as he paced, not even noticing that Tyrian was right next to him. "Damnit, that was so stupid! Why is he so handsomely intimidating? What can't I just be normal-"

"Because you're Arthur Watts, inventor and doctor, smarter than anyone else i know and absolutely hopelessly in love with me" Tyrian interrupted, his voice caught Arthur off guard and he would never admit how much that genuinely scared him.

"Ty- Tyrian look, what I-" he was cut off as said man lunged at him suddenly, crowding his precious space.

"Just shut up and kiss me again" the scorpion demanded as he rolled his eyes and pulled Arthur into him. Their lips crashed together again, yet the feeling was different. Before Arthur could barely feel the kiss at all, but now he felt like sparks were flying down his spine and static was invading his mind. Arthur let himself fall mentally, his brilliant mind failing him when he needed it most, so he just let it happen. Let his body do the talking for once.

Tyrian on the other hand was practically shaking with joy, he had a crush on the doctor for a while now but he truly never believed Arthur would like him back, let alone make the first move! He could not be happier even if his own goddess showed up just then! He felt as if nothing could ruin this sweet moment of love. And he was right, not a soul came out of the party to find them and they were left alone in the hallway. As Tyrian let go of Arthur he smiled. Not a crazed, classic Tyrian smile, but a calm, genuine one. Arthur felt his heart skip more than one beat, and he was sure Tyrian felt it too. Soon enough Tyrians soft laughter bubbled out of his mouth.

"What's so funny?" Arthur asked, his usual scoff lightened just a touch.

"Well the fact that we literally waltzed into love." Arthur's eyes rolled.

"That was cheesy." He huffed as he set his head on Tyrians shoulder.

"No, parmesan is cheesy." Arthur sighed. The moment was ruined by the man who created it. And he could not help the small smile that was hidden by his mustache. Maybe tonight was worth the party.

#nuts and volts week #nuts and volts #rwby watts #rwby tyrian #rwby #rwby fanfiction #arthur watts #tyrian callows

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dahlialittlejames · 6 years

Text

Remember this?

“Rob-”

“Ed, it’s been three years. You’re on the verge of collapse on the daily, meanwhile I’m out looking for stuff to do.”

Ed rubs their eye. “You can get a job. Here at the shop, even. It’s not like there’s a lack of shit to do that doesn’t involve a mirror.”

Dot nods agreement, her hands busy with a box of new issues. She tends to stay out of the argument nowadays. If Ed had opposed Robin getting a mirror before knowing its consequences, no way would they approve after the strain of it on themselves.

And Robin can understand. Really, she can. She can understand too the fact that her sibling is bending over backwards to keep from snapping from all this work. Along with running the comics shop, and pretending for their parents, and covering their tracks whenever the darkness caused some real damage. The fact that the assholes Dot came from wouldn’t help them only scrubbed salt in the wound with a brillo pad.

They need help.

That night, Robin pops her knuckles and leans over her desk. Her fingers fly, signing into Craigslist to type up a listing. If Ed doesn’t want her help, they’ll need someone. What better way than going the usual routes for hiring?

She coughs up the handful of bucks she needs to post the ad. She titles it and confirms the details. She hits send.

“Well, that got that out of my system.” It’s small revenge, petty enough that it probably won’t go anywhere. But Robin needs it. She can’t take this out on Ed in person.

Linda Linetti from the gym comes flouncing in, along with that bum-looking hipster from the cafe. Robin even sees the old dude from the park, one of the cake decorators from the Safeway down the way, along with all too many high school and college students she’s used to seeing in the shop anyways. The ad got a little more attention than she bargained for.

“Rob,” Ed hisses. “What the fuck is going on?”

Robin shrugs helplessly but Ed’s not buying it. Dot’s not either. Her eyes downturn and Robin runs up to meet the growing crowd. “You guys, uh- really showed up, huh?” she asks.

The hipster’s mouth twists. Linda waves and smiles. The students have a look of amusement, like an audience for a magic show. Pleased whether the performer gets the trick or fumbles it, because they still get entertainment.

“We read the ad?” a girl in a Gryffindor sweatshirt pipes up. “Is it just a promotion for the store? I thought it was actually-”

“You actually thought it was legit?” a man drawls.

The girl flushes. “I don’t know. Is it, Eddie?”

Ed crosses their arms. “If I didn’t make the ad, it isn’t valid. What’s this all about?”

The Gryffindor hands out a printed copy of the ad. Robin tries to look like she’s arranging pins on the counter. It’s like a trainwreck she can’t bear to watch.

Ed’s eyes go wide as they get through the text. They set their brow. The mirror on their hand flashes and they bark a laugh. Robin speedwalks for the backroom but they flick their finger. Get over here.

Robin obliges, face burning. Why would she have entertained the idea this would have worked? It was supposed to be a goof. Something to get back at Ed and Dot without really doing any harm, and now she’d put both their identities in the spotlight.

Fuck. Okay. “I put out the ad.”

“And?” the heckler asks.

“So it’s fake. It’s not real, okay?” she says. “Why would Mage hire from a comics shop, anyway?”

A few faces fall. The look on that cake decorator makes Robin want to sink through the floor to the basement. Ed’s brow doesn’t lift. “Why would a superhero hire on Craigslist, either?”

Shrugs from the crowd. Linda doesn’t seem fazed, while the retiree from the park just raises a brow.

Ed sees the opportunity for customers, though. “Tell you what, though,” they say. “If you’re willing to apply, you get a discount on a tabletop game, your choice. Sound fair?”

The heckler is joined by other voices. “Knew it had to be fake.”

“Some dumb kid and I drove out from Salem for nothing?”

“Can I roll to kick your ass for this? It’s like 9am!”

“Hey!” Robin snaps. “I put out the ad. If you want to be jerks, least you could do is aim it at me.”

The hecklers pay her no mind. “Or this is a ruse to hide Mage. Everyone knows she comes from here.”

Ed’s face tightens. Even as a super, they’re misgendered. Maybe it’s for the best but still, Mage is their favorite form. “You think we hide a team of five super monsters in a comics shop?” they say.

“Why not? Seems like hiding in plain sight.”

“Where’s Mage?”

“Can she shapeshift?”

“We’re not leaving, the ad-”

They get what they want. Ed’s mirror flashes and in a second the flick of their hair brushes the ceiling, a pitch black nightmare towering over the crowd. The cutouts of familiar characters around them just makes Ed look more like another fixture of the store, though. Loft, firepole, staircase, giant novelty Mage sculpture.

The store’s silent. Dot’s behind the counter, not cowering but backing slowly into the stock room.

Ed’s mouth twists. “You got the spectacle. No pictures if you value your phones.” Their hands curl and a few already reaching for their cells get them flicked out of their grip. The heckler scrambles for his on the floor, dumbfounded.

“This shit’s dangerous. It’s deadly. It’s not fun. I’m playing a game of Animorphs while you guys think I’m a Power Ranger. Next time you come in wanting to join in, get that in your heads.”

Mage flashes back down to Ed, their jacket powdered with ceiling dust and cobwebs. Their hands go to their pockets before anyone can connect their mirror to their transformation. Their brow’s still set, mouth pinched. They just took a huge risk, and it’s too soon to see if it paid off.

But the crowd’s still dead. It’s like they’re trying to decide whether to cheer or run out the door. Some make up their minds, a fist pump here and the ring of the door bells there. Others just stand there staring at the space Ed once filled with Mage. Ed turns and heads for the back.

They have Robin’s sweater in their grip and she doesn’t resist.

Robin’s tossed unceremoniously on the couch. Ed storms off to put distance between them. They’re feeling too much right now and it’s all Robin’s fault. She doesn’t know what to even begin with. A sorry doesn’t feel like something her sibling would accept after today.

“Ed?” she just asks.

“What were you thinking?” Ed hisses. “Do you have any idea how much danger you’re going to get them in? How much danger you could end up in?”

Robin bites her lip, but her brow sets. The least Ed can do is see her case as an adult fucking up. And yet she’s just a kid again, and Ed’s only wondering about how to do damage control. She bites back her real reply.

“Excuse me, Eddie?”

The fight can’t even begin. Linda Linetti stands in the doorway, the retiree at her side.

“It’s Ed,” they say, exhausted. “Sorry, Mrs. Linetti.” Linda Linetti frowns and they just shake their head. “Seriously. It was a store promotion. Me and Dot have been working on a projector up on the ceiling, thought we could test it out-”

“You were a bit too angry for that,” Linda says in a low tone. “I thought maybe you were making some sort of work out club.”

“Or a hobby club?” the retiree asks.

“I just wanted to prove it was a hoax,” the scruffy dude from Mean Bean calls out with a shrug.

The cake decorator stuck around, too, hanging by a display of manga. Otherwise, a number of other people don’t trail after Ed after their big show.

“Well, you got your hoax,” Ed tells them.

Robin nods but her face isn’t selling it. Linda has a mom look. The old man’s just kinda cocking his head. Mean Bean slouches like he’s waiting for the real answer.

“Ed’s actually Mage,” she says.

“Rob-”

“They’ve been Mage, and Tank, and all the other heroes. Why do you think you never see all five of them in the same place?”

“There’s five?” Linda says.

“Yeah, you guys- oh, you guys don’t see Rogue,” Robin admits. “Kind of the point. They’re all the same person in different forms. Because of this.” She yanks up Ed’s hand, the one with the mirror. They flush and smack Robin’s hand back, but the damage is done.

“What is that?” Linda asks. “Ed, what happened to your hand?”

Ed looks into the shop. There’s no one they can trust to watch the shop, and theft’s been bad lately. They only have two people here, though, beyond the three with her now. The cake decorator and the Gryffindor, still poking around for some proof of Mage lingering in the shop.

“We’re going to close a minute,” Ed tells the pair. “You want to head next door a second?”

The Gryffindor makes a face but departs. She turns her head on the way out, though, looking back.

The cake decorator sticks around. “That was real, wasn’t it?” she says. She’s a tall, somewhat timid girl, dark as an autumn night in a purple sweater to put Mabel Pines to shame. “Mage.”

Ed furrows their brow again but jerks their head for the cake decorator to follow, too. “Everyone in the back,” they say, flipping the sign again. They don’t bother to lock up. Shouldn’t be long to get this over with, and time is money.

Ed’s gathered them to the couches in the backroom, coffee brewing on the old counter. Dusty tables for Magic the Gathering and the occasional DnD or Catan sesh line the rest of the space. Boxes of unopened comics tower the rest of the room. Linda and the old man take seats. The Mean Bean bum parks it on a couch’s arm. The cake decorator just stands there like she’s afraid to touch any of the place.

“So,” Mean Bean says. “Spill it. Three years ago, we got supers. Three years ago is when this all started?”

Ed rubs their forehead. They take a plastic chair and turn it around. Robin parks it on the cracked leather couch from their last house and tries to wallow into it. Maybe she’ll just vanish into it if she slouches enough.

Dot’s at the old counter with a box. Part of Robin wants to hope it’s the mirror box but, no, it’s not the black lock box. Just a plain old box of dice.

They rattle in the silence and Ed tinks their nails at the mirror on their palm. “Okay. I’m Mage. Told you that. And the rest of the heroes. And I made them all three years ago. I’ve, uh. I’ve never had to say all of this. I didn’t want to have to say all of this,” they say through grit teeth, eyes flickering on Robin.

“How do you ‘make’ something as big as Tank?” Mean Bean snaps.

Ed puts their hands to their hairline, trying their darnedest not to be here. This is too much. Robin screwed the pooch on this one and now her sibling’s going to be the one in danger for it. All that collateral to answer to, all the people trying to pry into their life like the crowd had until they snapped.

They’re already under enough stress.

“Ed’s an artist. Character designer,” Robin says to the others. “The mirror lets you make forms for you to turn into, so they made Mage and Tank and Rogue and Ranger and Healer to be when they’re fighting the darkness. There’s concept art and everything.”

“The mirror. You mean that flash from before?” Linda asks slowly.

Robin nods. “It comes from this mirror world. With aliens and these monsters that you guys keep seeing the five fight. It’s like a power coin?” she says with a shrug. Only Mean Bean and the cake decorator nod like they get it.

She probably should ask their names. “Okay, we know you, Linda, but who are the rest of you guys?”

“Oh!” Linda says. “This is Sterling De Castro,” she says of the man beside her, who gives a small wave. “And that’s Jessa from Safeway. You made my Ace’s cake last year! And you’re-” She stalls on the Mean Bean bum.

“Hadley Simmons,” he mutters.

“Right!” Linda tells Robin. “And you’re Robbie Abel, aren’t you?” She smiles. Probably remembering the strip fair from the last few years, Robin in costume and high-fiving her tots as Nightwing or Harry Potter or Wonder Woman.

Robin twists her mouth a little. “Yeah.”

“Did you make these mirrors?”

“No,” Dot says. “My people did. Ed’s been chosen to wield our technology in this world.”

The attention spins on their resident alien and Ed’s up in a snap. “Dot.”

“I can tell them. I agree that you need help, and are these not adults?” Dot insists. “Are they?”

Linda and Sterling, obviously, but Jessa and Hadley are a little more on the fence for Robin to suss out. Didn’t she go to school with a Jessa who graduated last year? And Hadley looks like Amy Simmons from her Algebra 2 class, who talked of a brother who graduated five years back or more. Going to college to be a doctor or something

Ed just shakes their head. “That’s not happening.”

Linda’s made it to the conclusion. “Dotty, what are you saying?”

“I say we take them on. We still have enough mirrors. You can’t spread yourself this thin anymore, Ed.”

Ed stands up. Head still shaking no, but they look to Robin. They won’t be risking Robin if they do this. But they don’t want to put someone kind as Linda in this line of work, or an old man, or a timid cake decorator, or this loud asshole from the coffee shop. No one deserves to do what they’re doing.

But Jessa rises. “I came to join. I- I believed it.”

Robin bites her lip, eyes wide.

“This is a mirror that lets you change yourself, isn’t it? Do we each get one?” she asks. Her voice shakes a little, just a shade too high.

Dot nods, encouraging. “The mirror is a gift among the people of my home. Ed took a mirror at the start of their journey. We have five more to bestow. I think Robin was right to seek you out.”

“I thought this might be a work out club,” Linda breathes. “Not- this.”

Sterling shrugs. “Thought it might be a new hobby, myself. You say we protect people?”

“You’ve met us, right?” Hadley says, arms crossed.

“You don’t have to fight as yourselves,” Dot assures. “It doesn’t matter what you look or feel, so long as you can imagine the new forms and use them well.”

“Okay, but have you met me?” Hadley says.

Dot’s on him in a second, the guy backing up into the couch. Her tendrils extend from under her hat. His face goes slack a second as his mind is under Dot’s careful hands, fingers tracing the lines of his brain.

Her face lights up, tendrils releasing. “You are a doctor?” she asks.

“I am not!” Hadley says. “What was that?” He rubs his face and scrambles back, almost toppling onto the rug. Linda’s hands are on her mouth. Sterling just stares, eye twitching. Jessa’s the only one who doesn’t seem fazed, almost resolute. Weird.

Ed shares her look, with some caution on the side. “Dot, Rob- talk.”

They look for somewhere more private than the backroom, then, finding none, just pull Robin and Dot closer to them.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Ed hisses.

Robin doesn’t speak. Dot’s only getting started.

“Ed Abel, this is a great idea! I had a team back at my laboratory. You can assign them each a design. The Hadley one would make a good healer.”

“It looks like that guy can’t even take care of himself. Last I heard he’s been trying to couchsurf off Audrey Dalke for months.”

“What about the strong one?”

“The cake girl?”

“Linda runs the gym, Ed,” Robin points out. “I saw her lift like two hundred pounds once. She’s jacked.”

Healer and Tank in the bag.

“And the old man from the park is a badass frisbee golfer,” Robin admits. Ranger. Where Jessa fits, it’s probably Rogue.

Dot bats at Ed’s shoulder. “It’s a team. You have a team waiting for you.”

#mirror procedures #i wrote this a ways back but i figured i'd hand it over for your viewing pleasure #this story so far has been loosey goosey on the later plot details but after dreadnought i have some renewed energy for it #writing #it's long but also i love these characters and wanted to show them #so here they be

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hulklinging · 7 years

Note

Pidge and Lance with 127 or Nico/Victor with 65?

127. “What are you listening to?” Pidge and Lance. Sleep issues and friendship. 1607 words.

“What are you listening to?”

It’s Lance, teasing already apparent in his voice. Like they’re back in the Garrison, and he’s gonna make fun of his weird little communications officer for believing in aliens.

Pidge thinks back, wonders if she could redo it if she’d laugh more and tease him back, or if she needed to be as closed off as she was, to get them to that roof, so they could watch Shiro fall.

Pidge thinks in code sometimes, how one missing semicolon can make everything grind to a halt. And fate isn’t really her thing, but there were so many things that could have gone wrong, so many places a semicolon could have gone missing, and then they wouldn’t be here, in space, fighting a war. She grits her teeth, because that kind of thinking is an exercise in uselessness, and because she didn’t pause the recordings she’s listening to when Lance walked in, and now she’s lost track of what’s happening.

“Some of the files we gathered from the last mission are audio files,” she says. “I’m going through them.”

“In the middle of the night? Are they really that important?” Lance flops down next to her on the couch. He’s got headphones on too, although they’re not connected to anything. His sleep mask is pushed up into his hair like they’re designer sunglasses, and he’s doing a very good job of faking that ‘I just woke up’ air, but there’s deep circles under his eyes, and Pidge knows him well enough at this point to know he hasn’t managed to get any sleep yet tonight.

She doesn’t sleep much, which is an ongoing joke among her old Garrison team but is also a fact. And especially not in her room, with its bare walls and its tendency to resemble her old room back at the Garrison, when she wakes up all of a sudden, sometime between lights out and what counts for morning in the Castle. That’s the worst, because for a second she thinks she’s back on Earth, no closer to her family or to anything than she was before, and it turns her stomach.

So most of her sleep nowadays is stolen in power naps, scattered across the castle like she’s playing some long game version of hide and seek. She knows all of their nighttime habits, watches Hunk get up too early, pretends she believes his excuses about just wanting to get a head start on breakfast. She watches Keith sneak out like he’s still back home, still trying to avoid the teachers that will throw him out eventually anyways, disappear into the training room for hours on end. Shiro wanders the halls like he’s sleepwalking, and sometimes he sits with her and they talk about little things, stretching their few points of pre-Voltron connection into nights’ worth of conversations. If they talk about the people they’re both missing at night, not meeting each other’s eyes, then their performances of being okay ring more true around the rest of them.

Allura plots, when she can’t sleep. She pulls out old star charts and makes notes, crossing out civilizations and strongholds that fell before humans had ever learned the word ‘empire.’ Pidge sits with her sometimes too, dozes off to the sound of the pen-like thing Allura uses to record 10 000 years of missing history gliding across the paper.

Coram checks and double-checks every system, when something keeps him up. It’s rare though, to see the older man out and about. He’s a soldier still, at heart, and he’s learned better than any of them to grab sleep when he can.

Lance is less predictable, and also the most frustrating, when it comes to late night company. He wants Pidge to engage, and Pidge always feels like he’s asking her for something but never knows what it is. And she cares for all of them, for this weird floating family of theirs, but she still hasn’t found the right words to express that just yet, so she’s left like this, scowl stretching her tired face as Lance taps almost-familiar beats into the couch cushions and stares at her.

“What do you want?” she snaps, and she doesn’t mean to, but she’s tired and she’s trying to do something, and he’s making it harder. Even when he’s not speaking (a rarity), his presence is enough to make paying attention to something else difficult.

Lance shrugs, which makes her scowl deepen.

“If you’re bored, you can go bother someone else.” She twists her whole body in on itself, like maybe if she can’t see him she won’t be distracting by all of his fidgeting. “I’m working.”

A pair of hands reach over and pluck her laptop from her lap.

She shrieks, and her hand flashes out and punches Lance in the shoulder. It’s a slower reaction than it should have been, and maybe it has been a couple of days before she’s gotten anything resembling a good sleep, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that Lance is being an asshole.

“Give that back!”

Lance lets out a whine at the hit, but is now standing and holding the laptop over his head. She growls, and stands up only slightly unsteadily on the couch, practically climbing him to get her computer back.

“No, wait- ow! -Pidge, this is an intervention! Ow, not my fingers, I’m the sharpshooter I need those!”

“Should have thought of that before stealing my shit!”

Pidge gets her hands back on the laptop just as Lance loses his balance, and then the two of them tumble back down onto the couch in a mess of limbs and wires. Pidge makes sure to give him an elbow to the ribs as she’s detangling herself, and takes great pride in the muttered ‘quiznak!’ this earns her.

“You’re a terror.”

“Thanks,” she says, and goes to plug her headphones back in.

“Wait, Pidge! I really did come here for a reason.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, trying to channel the disbelief that Shiro always emitted when one of them tried to pull something. It’s a work in progress, but once perfected she will be unstoppable.

“Yes?”

Lance grins, any pain from the last few minutes instantly forgotten. His sleepmask is hanging halfway off his head, and he looks ridiculous. Pidge loses her Shiro-stare to a giggle, and Lance, performer that he is, strikes a pose that turns the giggle into a full-out laugh.

“Okay, fine. What do you want?”

“You like heights, right?”

Damn her and her curiosity.

Shiro is headed towards the observation deck when he hears something strange.

He’s cutting through one of the big dark and empty rooms that must have been used as some sort of hall, back when the Castle was bustling with people. He knows his way, doesn’t bother turning the lights on. The unknown noise makes him tense, arm lighting up for the briefest of moments before his brain catches up to his anxieties and he recognizes it as a snore.

He looks around, confused. There’s nothing in this room, not that he can see. Then he looks up.

There are little balconies scattered around the walls of the room, and in the one closest to him, he can make out a mess of blankets and pillows. It takes him a moment to find the right door that will lead him up to the balcony, and he takes great care to tread lightly on the stairs, because regardless of who it is in this makeshift nest, Shiro’s sure they deserve the rest.

He finds Lance and Pidge, their matching bedheads just barely sticking out of their pile of blankets. Pidge’s laptop is closed and tucked carefully away against the wall, which means either she fell asleep before Lance did or for the first time since they left Earth, Pidge let herself fall asleep on purpose. It’s her snoring he heard. He hadn’t known she snored, which makes him think that she usually never lets herself sleep this deeply. Under the snoring is the soft sound of waves, which makes sense. Lance can’t sleep in the quiet, and sure enough, his headphones are resting on a pillow near Pidge’s laptop, the recording they got at the last planet they’d stopped at with an ocean trickling through them.

“H'lo?” Lance murmurs, one eye cracked open and staring in Shiro’s general direction.

“Just me,” he whispers. “Go back to sleep.”

Lance nods, and then rolls over, and pats the space next to him. Shiro suspects there might be some stripped rooms throughout the castle, for them to have this many blankets and pillows, but he doesn’t think Allura will mind.

“Lots of room,” the boy says. He’s right, too. “No claustrophobia here.”

Then he turns onto his side and pulls at a corner of a blanket until he’s buried again, only leaving enough of his face uncovered that he won’t suffocate.

Shiro wonders what it was that gave it away to Lance, why he struggles with sleeping in his own room. Or maybe he just guessed, like how he guessed that Pidge’s fear comes from waking up alone.

It’s not a bad idea. Shiro had tried sleeping in some of the bigger rooms, but he felt too exposed. Here, tucked away like this but with so much open air, he might actually have a chance of sleeping for longer than a few hours.

“Not today, kiddo. But thanks.”

Lance smiles, and Shiro leaves as quietly as he came. He’ll let Hunk know that they might miss breakfast, and to set some aside for them. Sleep had been too scarce, of late. They deserved the rest.

#pidge gunderson #katie holt #lance mcclain #voltron #takashi shirogane #vld #voltron legendary defender #ziggy writes fanfiction #phoenixyfriend

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poetryofyouth · 7 years

Text

Self realizations

tw: gender dysphoria, depression, bullying, homophobia, etc basically don’t read unless you want to feel down and hate me forever

(please don’t reblog)

(I just finished these >1800 words of rambling, it probably doesn’t make sense, and if you read this you know me better than my therapist, sorry bout that)

I used to be an asshole, I mean I still am in some ways, but my assholery nowadays is mostly just me being cynical towards conservative/homophobic/transphobic/ignorant people who also are assholes in my humble opinion.

I used to kinda be a homophobic /transphobic/ignorant asshole and I just get sick at what kind of an abusive dick I was.

I picked at my younger brother for liking the colour red, painting his nails, wanting to dress up as a princess in my old costume and other things. I used the word “gay” as an insult and a curse word. I picked on a relatively flat chested girl in my class and talked about her small breast behind her back because,,, peer pressure?? I told transphobic jokes, called trans* people “it” or their birth pronoun I made fun of people in public who didn’t look obviously look like a woman or a man and called them “it” when trying to find out what sex they were with friends. I actively told homophobic jokes, laughed at homophobic jokes and encouraged the use of slurs I didn’t stand up for queer people. I used to think being gay was bad and being trans was sick I don’t think I knew that non-binary was a thing, but I would have laughed at anyone trying to tell me there were more than two genders I used to feel disgusted at trans women I mercylessly used queerness as a punchline in jokes I used to desperately kling to gender norms and basically made fun of anyone who defied those Like I remember how wrong it felt when we played family at preschool and a boy wanted to be the mum, it was weird and wrong to me. And I then I used to think that gender wasn’t really a thing at all just because my expericene with it was?? basically

And it’s not my parents fault I was a douchy kid. They didn’t give a single fuck when my brother and I played with my Barbies, or with his Lego. They didn’t care when we both dressed up as princesses or as pirates, or when I painted his nails bright pink (because he wanted me to). It was always me who was an asshole and abusive. And gosh I was an agressive kid, I loved to scuffle and sword fight with sticks while at the same time thinking it was wrong because that’s what boys and only boys do. I definatley didn’t have a rough childhood or anything, it was just me.

Basically, I was a total bag of dicks until I was, probably, 14, when I couldn’t escape the reality of my queerness anymore. I still did some of the things then, but it had more of a bitter aftertaste and I had fallen madly in love with a girl I knew for like a week before never seeing her again. I was probably in love with my female best friend before that, since I was 12, but didn’t really know since “girls can only have crushes on boys”. There was this game, Pflicht, Wahl oder Wahrheit, kind of like truth or dare, and the standard question was always “which boy do you have a crush on right now?” and i just couldn’t comprehend the concept of that. I read in magazines how it should feel like to have a crush on a boy, and it just didn’t happen? I tried making myself fall in love and pretended to, but you can’t just force these things, obviously. And I got never picked on as a kid, I would have been the perfect victim, shy, quiet, fat, ugly,..., but I guess I was just lucky. And my class all the way through school was great.

Anyways, I was fourteen and I knew I was gay, it still sounded disgusting in my head, and had a crush on a girl I hadn’t seen in months. I started isolating myself and simply not talking to anyone in my class and hiding at the bathroom in the breaks just to avoid people. I don’t think I was depressed then, but I think that’s where it started, even though it took years to reach peak crisis. With 15, i still wasn’t out to anybody irl even though i read an watched a lot of things about sexuality and finally kind of stared to accept this part of myself. Then, in 10th grade, I did a foreign high school year in the USA. I was randomly placed in Ohio, with a hyper conservative family, i don’t think i need say more. During my first month, I subtly asked my host mother what she thought about homosexuality, and she straight up told me “I don’t like gay people”. Great, obviously coming out wasn’t happening there. I saw the humorous side ot this, sometimes, when I felt like a undercover liberal queer spy who is for health care and likes Obama more than bush. I wrote so many emails to friends without sending them, about me being gay. I couldn’t even say the word lesbian without feeling weird. During that time, I also started to self harm seriously. And even though I wasn’t out to anyone, I was bullied for being gay by two girls during lunch. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t deny being gay, so I just sat quietly and told no one about anything.

When I got home things got a little better, I chopped of my hair and died it red and loved it. I came out to two friends, and slowly to others as well. They were all super accepting. I had my first (and only for now) girlfriend at 16 and came out to my parents, who of course didn’t mind and kind of knew before. I still cried, and I love them to death. So everything should have been fine at that point exept it wasn’t and I was a depressed self-harming suicidal mess until I attempted suicide in September 2015 when I was 17. Then I was locked up in a psychiatry for 3 months. Even after that I was too broken to continue school, since the pressure and especially one of the teachers were the main reason for my mental health issues. So I was a high school drop out and i still feel ashamed for that, one year later. Mental health issues make everything harder. And even though my internalized homophobia was not the only reason, it definately contibruted to the mess i was.

Again, I have never been bullied by my Austrian class mates (the asshole ohio girls were not at home) but still my class teacher appearently thought my issues and the reason i dropped out was because of bullying and scolded my class mates for being mean. When I heard that, months later, I felt super guilty these guys have never done anything wrong to me in their life!

That’s where schools go wrong, they say bullying wiill not be tolerated and don’t do anything to help victims of bullying, and accuse students of bullying when the actual reason other students feel down is just school itself.

In fall of 2016, I went to New Zealand for three months and volunteered in environmental protection, and this was the most healing thing I could have done. Seriously, no amount of therapy or medication could compare to knowing I am doing something for the planet, for the future. Of course that’s not for everybody, but for me it was the best possible thing to happen

So I’m in an allright place right now, not cured, but okay for the most part. I can say i am happy being gay and wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I have also started to accept my queerness on another level, the gender queer level. I identify as non-binary, that might change, but i’m fairly comfortable with it.

Right now I am in a weird dysphoric mood (yeah who would have guessed?) and feel really bad about my chest. I need to buy a binder. I felt so uncomfortable with my fat curvy body for the last few days. And binding with a wide belt and bandages is not healthy, I know, but I need to do something to be able to look in the mirror!

I think my picking at the girl with small breasts stemmed from jealousy, same with picking on my brother for doing traditionally feminine things. I wanted to not be a girl so bad all my life, all the signs were there, but I just pushed it into the back of my head and acted like the ignorant assholes i hate today.

One of my fondest, little childhood memories was when i was probably just 6 years old, and had short hair and basically looked like a little boy. My brother’s preschool teacher once thought I actually was a boy and asked my brother about his “brother”, refering to me when i went with my mother to pick him up form preschool. And hearing this stranger calling me “boy” was just a feeling of total bliss, I was so excited and happy because I was not called a girl. Unfortunately my mother corrected her.

I grew my hair out and had long hair consistently for 10 years until I cut it off again. At first it was a feminine pixie cut, now it’s basically a men’s haircut. I don’t even go to a hair dresser, my mum cuts mine, my father’s, and my brother’s hair, which is great, because I hate going to hair dresser.

I sometimes get “misgendered” in public and it’s still great, I just love being perceived as masculine (well when I’m feeling and presenting that way, but when I’m not I don’t get misgendered, at least I haven’t yet). I think it’s called gender euphoria, and love that word.

I haven’t completely figured out either my sexuality or my gender identity so I just identify as queer. I’m out as a lesbian to my friends and family, I don’t know when I will be able to talk to them about my gender identity/pronouns. Especially because there isn’t a pronoun in German I feel as comfortable with as “they/their”.

And sometimes I still wake up and think “maybe I’m just faking it for attention, maybe I’m just a neurotypical, straight, cis girl who wants to feel like a special snowflake on the internet” even though straight and cis and girl feel so wrong that I feel as uncomfortable saying them as I used to feel uncomfortable saying “lesbian”. Well maybe I always knew that I wasn’t really a lesbian. The words I love now are queer, non-binary, and gay. And using/hearig them doensn’t make me anxious or uncomfortable. I just started smiling typing them. I am happy with these words, maybe just for now, maybe forever.

TL;DR My internalized homophobia and transphobia and lack of understanding of myself and my sexuality turned me into a depressed asshole, and I hope to attone for these sins by being the queer person I am without feeling guilty.

#kats thoughts #tw: gender dysphoria depression bullying homophobia #please don't reblog

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