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maddieinwonder · 3 years

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A Lesson In Romance #2: Opposites Attract

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they become friends.

A/N: I can't believe I rewrote this chapter, like, 5 times, but I'm kinda happy with the final result 😌😌😌 Again, my ask is open if you want to send me a trope request!

Masterlist | All chapters here!

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Contrary to popular belief, you've watched your fair share of rom-coms. Or at least enough to understand its three-act structure, even if you didn't understand why people bought into it just yet.

Take the concept of "opposites attract" for example. Two people with completely different interests and personalities are supposedly perfect for each other because they compensate for the other's weaknesses. But it was illogical, you knew this for a fact.

Opposites attract had your college roommate crying herself to sleep when she decided to date a popular jerk-wad. Opposites attract caused your best friend to transfer schools after a cruel Valentine's Day prank. Opposites attract made your dad divorce your mum and leave you and your siblings alone at the ripe age of eleven.

But according to rom-coms, these relationships were worth it. There was nothing sweeter than a shy person complementing a loud bully, or nothing that screamed sexual tension more than a practical joker tormenting a goody-two-shoes.

For your entire life up until this point, you just didn't get it. But then you met Garcia and Morgan, and things began to make sense.

The two of them couldn't be further apart. Derek was a typical player — traditional good looks, muscular, was probably a jock in high school. Penelope, on the other hand, dressed in bright colours and even brighter hair. She seldom left her office — which, for the record, was covered wall to wall with cuteness — and cared about her technology like it was an extension of herself.

At first, you didn't understand why they were so close. They were basically polar opposites. But when one of your first cases with the BAU hit too close to home for the usually cheerful tech analyst, you watched Derek drop everything he was doing to gently support her through it.

This was enough to make you rethink your theory. And if you were being really honest, it was enough to make you yearn for something like that for yourself.

Because the thing is, you hadn't stopped thinking about the shy, awkward man you met at the coffee shop. Even more so now that you were working together, and you found out that he was a certifiable genius with an IQ of 187.

To add to your surprise, you and Spencer weren't opposites — not in any material way, at least. You couldn't say otherwise when you only knew the things that everybody else knew.

Like how the two of you had qualifications in psychology (he had a B.A., you had a PhD), loved Doctor Who (he preferred Tom Baker, but you were partial to David Tennant), and shared a favourite movie genre in science fiction, but specifically space opera (he loved Star Trek, you were nostalgic for Star Wars).

And that was just the beginning.

You begun to realise little things about him every day that you noticed in yourself. The obvious one was your coffee preferences. You pretended not to notice when the team raised their eyebrows at the three full spoons of sugar you added to your coffee everyday.

But you also noticed the way Spencer bounced his leg when he was nervous, or moved his mouth when he was reading at that unbelievable pace.

You watched him so often, in fact, that one day you found yourself doing his trademark awkward smile and you realised your silent observations had gone too far.

In reality, you hadn't spoke to him alone for more than 10 minutes since you joined the team. The two of you were always around other people for some reason or other, and after the first few weeks passed like this, the expiry on talking to him about the coffee shop incident seemingly ran out.

Then one morning, when the coffee machine at work broke down and you were beginning to think this was the start of a very bad day, a cup of coffee was gently placed in front of you.

"Good morning," Spencer greeted, pulling over the chair from his desk to sit next to you. His held his own cup of coffee in one hand.

You recognised the logo as the coffee shop where you met him. The same one you'd been avoiding since you started working here. (Ok, so maybe the reason you hadn't spoken about the incident wasn't entirely due to external forces.)

"What's this for?" You asked, as if you didn't already know.

"A peace offering," he said, locking eyes with you. "I haven't seen you at the coffee shop in three weeks, which coincides exactly with the day we met and your first day at the BAU. I've... I've come to the conclusion that you're avoiding me, but I really hope you won't."

"Why?" You asked, reaching for the warm takeaway cup.

"Because I'd like to get to know you better." He said frankly. You were glad you hadn't taken a sip yet, because you might have spit it out in shock.

In the rom-coms you watched, confessions like these usually happened to a swell of music and dimmed lights, maybe while the two main characters were dancing in each others arms. But under the fluorescent lights at the bureau, you only felt your heart swell to an imaginary soundtrack.

"So would I," you replied, smiling despite yourself. You couldn't believe you just compared a rom-com scenario to real life, but watching Spencer's smile widen at your reply made the critic in you subside. His smile was, strangely, beautiful to you now.

"You're lucky I remembered your order," he teased, his pinkish cheeks weren't beyond your notice.

"Spencer. We share the same coffee order and you have an eidetic memory," you replied dryly.

"I know," he said, and the two of you locked eyes for a moment before breaking into a bout of laughter over the absurdity of your relationship.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, the unusual sight had caught the eyes of the other members in the bullpen. But it was only the next morning when you and Spencer walked into the office with matching cups of coffee, that the team confirmed that something was definitely up.

And they were going to find out what.

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Tag list:

@blue-space-porgs

#mads fics #spencer reid x reader: a lesson in romance #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #cm fic #cm fanfic #derek morgan #penelope garcia #morcia #morgan x garcia #criminal minds #cm

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path-of-my-childhood · 3 years

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Taylor Swift: Pop Star of the Year

By: Jonathan Dean for The Sunday Times Date: December 27th 2020

Rather than hunker down, the singer put out two albums in 2020 and won over new audiences. She’s the pop star of the year.

Taylor Swift met Paul McCartney in the autumn for a big interview in Rolling Stone. The two would have headlined Glastonbury this summer. Who knows if they will do that next year. Anyway, both recorded albums in lockdown, working from home like the rest of us. When they spoke, though, Swift had a secret. As well as Folklore, released in July, she had a follow-up record in the pipeline — Evermore, which was released this month.

Swift noted that the former Beatle was still so full of joy. “Well, we’re just so lucky, aren’t we?” he said. “We’re really lucky,” Swift replied. “I can’t believe it’s my job.” And she is right. Being a pop star is an extraordinary way to earn the living she does. But rather than accepting luxury and letting this tough year tumble on, Swift is also keenly aware what music means. Sad songs soothe, happy songs make us dance, but as fans of most artists waited for something — anything — this year, this 31-year-old released two albums that broke chart records, were critically adored and introduced her to people who once thought that she wasn’t for them.

“I’m so exhausted!” she said to the American chat show host Jimmy Kimmel, laughing, a few weeks ago, when asked if she had a third new album planned. “I have nothing left.” In addition to Folklore and Evermore, she filmed a TV special and even started rerecording her back catalogue, after a volatile dispute over who owns her work. By October I’d just about cobbled together my first sourdough loaf.

A decade ago Swift moved firmly into the limelight thanks to a squabble with Kanye West entirely of the rapper’s own making. In 2009, when Swift — then a nascent country music star — won the best female video award at the VMAs, West stormed on stage, grabbed her microphone and said that Beyoncé should have won. Swift was 19 — West was 32 — and she looked scared. This wasn’t just about her biggest moment yet being stolen, but also about her position in the pop hierarchy being questioned, very publicly, from the off. She stood there as that man bullied her. Apparently she left the stage in tears.

Years later West released Famous, with its infamous lyric “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex/ Why? I made that bitch famous.” The alt-folk singer Father John Misty also wrote about sleeping with her. Every time that sort of thing happened, a powerful man in Swift’s industry was reducing a successful, talented, younger female to the level of a sex object. It was back-in-your-box belittling — as it was when a TV host groped her. (She successfully sued him.) While Swift herself would retort to West, as her music became less country, more slick pop, such retorts felt forced and gave the rapper too much of her oxygen. A nod to him on Folklore comes with the “Clowns to the West” line, but it is a sideshow now, not a headline.

Not that Swift’s life is entirely her own. She’s been one of the world’s bestselling female artists for a decade, coupled with curiosities such as a well-orchestrated relationship with Tom Hiddleston that kept her in the spotlight. Like many twentysomethings, Swift spent her youth apolitically, only to receive flak for staying silent during the 2016 US election. This year she endorsed Joe Biden, but what if she had wanted to stay quiet? Would the media have let her? She is under so much scrutiny that, after she made an innocuous hand gesture in a recent TV interview, similar to one women make to draw attention to domestic abuse, this headline ran: “Some people think Taylor Swift is secretly asking for help in her latest interview.”

Like many at the start of the pandemic she felt listless. The world we were used to was a wasteland, and we could only find the energy to watch Normal People. Swift’s ennui, though, was, well, swift. Stuck in LA, she emailed Aaron Dessner of the beloved beardy indie band the National to see if he fancied writing with her. No fool, Dessner said yes and, mere weeks later, the duo — with help from Swift’s regular collaborator Jack Antonoff as well as Justin Vernon, from the beloved beardy indie band Bon Iver — released Folklore. The gang just carried on working and, five months later, gave us Evermore.

Creativity is not on tap. Indeed, this year is not one for judging what others may or not have achieved. However, the silence of many big pop stars is striking because they know that even a single would make someone’s day; distract for a while.

Everyone needed to adjust to working from home, but Swift was one of the only musicians who did and, by eschewing the arena pop of recent albums for something more subdued, organic and folky, she gave the sense that she was letting fans in more than ever. She was at home, like us. This is who she is, and the first single from these sessions was so cosy, it was even called Cardigan.

“I just thought, ‘There are no rules any more,’” she told McCartney. “Because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, ‘How will this song sound in a stadium?’ If you take away the parameters, what do you make? I guess Folklore.”

Maybe it is tedious, for a deft writer with a career of varied, brilliant songs — Love Story, I Knew You Were Trouble, Blank Space — to find respect from some people only when artists who appeal to middle-aged men start to work with her. On the other hand, pop has never been particularly welcoming to many until it sounds like something you are used to and, with delicate acoustics and gossamer-like piano, Swift’s two new albums recall, sonically, Nick Drake or Kate Bush. Thematically, lyrics seem to come from anywhere. Daphne du Maurier, for one. Even the Lake District and its poets.

Some songs are personal. She is dating British actor Joe Alwyn, and on one track she sings, “I want to give you a child.” Make of that what you will. But these records’ highlights are not about herself, but others. “There was a point,” she told Zane Lowe on Apple Music, “that I had got to as a writer, [where I was only writing] diaristic songs. That felt unsustainable.” Instead, she does what the best writers do and mixes subjective with objective. The Last American Dynasty is a terrific piece of writing about the socialite Rebekah Harkness, who lived in a Rhode Island house that Swift bought and was, by all accounts, a bit scandalous. Swift tells her story almost with envy. Imagine, she seems to say, that freedom.

“In my anxieties,” she said in Rolling Stone, “I can often control how I am as a person and how normal I act. But I cannot control if there are 20 photographers outside in the bushes and if they follow our car and interrupt our lives.”

Then there is Epiphany. The first verse is about her grandfather, who fought in the Second World War; the second about frontline workers in hospitals now. Sung in a high register, it is suitably choral. Marjorie, on Evermore, is even better. It is about her grandmother, an opera singer who died in 2003. “What died didn’t stay dead” is the repeated line, and it is eerie, gorgeous. Swift sings how she thinks Marjorie is singing to her, at which point some vocals from the latter’s recordings waft in. Touching, but the real power is in Swift writing about vague memories of a relative who died when she was young. “I complained the whole way there,” she sings. “I should’ve asked you questions.”

In person she is warm like this, and funny. When Kimmel told her there were far more swearwords on Folklore and Evermore than previous records, she replied: “It’s just been that kind of year.” She is also odder than people realise. In the way pop stars should be. Obsessed by numerology, she wrote, on the eve of her birthday when announcing Evermore: “Ever since I was 13, I’ve been excited about turning 31 because it’s my lucky number backwards.” When I turned 31 I just wished to be 13 again, with all that youth, but then, maybe, she is just joking. “Yes, so until I turn 113 or 131, this will be the highlight of my life,” she said. “The numerology thing? I sort of force it to happen.”

Swift, of course, is far from the first pop star to become public property, or have a close bond with fans. This year, however, she was one of the few to show that such adoration is not one-way. She is, simply, a fan of her fans — from planting secrets in her artwork and lyrics, to recording two albums of new music as a balm for them when real life became too deafening.

“One good thing about music,” sang Bob Marley. “When it hits you, you feel no pain.” The 80.6 million who streamed Folklore on its first day will attest to that idea. So will the four million who bought it. Swift is pop star of the year, no doubt — leaving her peers in her wake, on their sofas, rewatching The Sopranos.

#thanks to anon who brought this to my attention!#🖤#taylor swift #the times #article #about taylor #folklore album #folklore era #evermore album #evermore era #twitter.com/hendopolis/status/1342959069792002050

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phroyd · 6 years

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Officially, “Respect” is a relationship song. That’s how Otis Redding wrote it. But love wasn’t what Aretha Franklin was interested in. The opening line is “What you want, baby, I got it.” But her “what” is a punch in the face. So Ms. Franklin’s rearrangement was about power. She had the right to be respected — by some dude, perhaps by her country. Just a little bit.What did love have to do with that?

Depending on the house you grew up in and how old you are, “Respect” is probably a song you learned early. The spelling lesson toward the end helps. So do the turret blasts of “sock it to me” that show up here and there. But, really, the reason you learn “Respect” is the way “Respect” is sung. Redding made it a burning plea. Ms. Franklin turned the plea into the most empowering popular recording ever made.

Ms. Franklin died on Thursday, at 76, which means “Respect” is going to be an even more prominent part of your life than usual. The next time you hear it, notice what you do with your hands. They’re going to point — at a person, a car or a carrot. They’ll rest on your hips. Your neck might roll. Your waist will do a thing. You’ll snarl. Odds are high that you’ll feel better than great. You’re guaranteed to feel indestructible.

Ms. Franklin’s respect lasts for two minutes and 28 seconds. That’s all — basically a round of boxing. Nothing that’s over so soon should give you that much strength. But that was Aretha Franklin: a quick trip to the emotional gym. Obviously, she was far more than that. We’re never going to have an artist with a career as long, absurdly bountiful, nourishing and constantly surprising as hers. We’re unlikely to see another superstar as abundantly steeped in real self-confidence — at so many different stages of life, in as many musical genres.

That self-confidence wasn’t evident only in the purses and perms and headdresses and floor-length furs; the buckets and buckets of great recordings; the famous demand that she always be paid before a show, in cash; or the Queen of Soul business — the stuff that keeps her monotonously synonymous with “diva.” It was there in whatever kept her from stopping and continuing to knock us dead. To paraphrase one of Ms. Franklin’s many (many) musical progeny: She slayed. “Respect” became an anthem for us, because it seemed like an anthem for her.

The song owned the summer of 1967. It arrived amid what must have seemed like never-ending turmoil — race riots, political assassinations, the Vietnam draft. Muhammad Ali had been stripped of his championship title for refusing to serve in the war. So amid all this upheaval comes a singer from Detroit who’d been around most of the decade doing solid gospel R&B work. But there was something about this black woman’s asserting herself that seemed like a call to national arms. It wasn’t a polite song. It was hard. It was deliberate. It was sure. And that all came from Ms. Franklin — her rumbling, twanging, compartmentalized arrangement. It came, of course, from her singing.

Because lots of major pop stars now have great, big voices, maybe it’s easy to forget that most Americans had never heard anything quite as dependably great and shockingly big as Ms. Franklin’s. The reason we have watched “Showtime at the Apollo” or “American Idol” or “The Voice” is out of some desperate hope that somebody walks out there and sounds like Aretha. She established a standard for artistic vocal excellence, and it will outlast us all.

She, along with Sam Cooke, Ray Charles, Otis Redding, Tina Turner and Patti LaBelle, changed where the stress fell in popular singing. Now you could glean a story from lyrics but also hear it in the tone of the singer’s voice — agony, ecstasy and everything beyond and in between. Roots, soil, pavement on one hand, the stratosphere on the other.

I know. That does just sound like the art of singing. But when gospel left the church and entered the body — the black body — we called that soul. And a good soul artist could make singing for sex sound like she was singing for God. They call that secular music. But it just repositioned whatelse could be holy. Almost nobody — and even then, maybe just Ray Charles — did as much toggling between and conflating of the religious and the randy with as much sincere athletic imagination and humor andswagger as Ms. Franklin.

“Dr. Feelgood (Love Is a Serious Business),” the hit from 1967 that she co-wrote, never fails to chill, arouse and amuse. Ms. Franklin performs it with a mix of exasperation and smoldering anticipation. That song’s never sounded better or more theatrical than it does on “Aretha Live at Fillmore West,” from 1971. Its structural brilliance is that there’s no robust chorus or melody, just Ms. Franklin, her piano, a blues groove and her mood. She wants a friend to get going so she can have sex with her man. But who’s been shown the door with this much flair?

The song starts, “I don’t want nobody always sitting around me and my man.” You could bake a pie in the pause between “nobody” and “always.” And when she gets to “sitting,” she takes a deep, five-second drag on the “s” so that it sounds less like a consonant and more like a lit fuse. The remaining six and a half minutes put you in exhilarated suspense over when her top’s gonna blow.

There are so many things to love about this performance: its sexiness, its playfulness, its resolve, all the space in the arrangement for Ms. Franklin’s singing to stay low until it takes off high, the way that once she finally connects with Dr. Feelgood himself, the crowd audibly connects with the song or, really, just more deeply connects, since people had been shouting stuff like, “Sing it, Aretha!” between her pauses. You can feel in that moment the hold Ms. Franklin had over anybody who ever saw — or heard — her sing. She worked with bottomless reserves of swagger.

We tend not to think of Ms. Franklin that way — as an artist of bravado and nerve and daring, as a woman with swagger. We tend not to think of her this way even though nearly every song she sang brimmed over with it. (She sang about taking care of business — the old “tcb” — and, consequently, having her business taken care of, as much as she sang about respect.) Swagger we left to the Elvis Presleys and James Browns and Mick Jaggers. But “swagger” is the only word for, say, her approach to the music of other artists.

It didn’t matter whether it was a Negro spiritual or something by the Beatles. It was all wet clay to her. The Supremes, Frank Sinatra, Leonard Cohen, Adele, Simon and Garfunkel, James Taylor, ? and the Mysterians, C & C Music Factory: She oversaw more gut renovations than a general contractor. In 1979, she took the occasion of B.B. King’s “The Thrill Is Gone” to allow her backing singer to exclaim that she (and they) were “free at last.” Toward the end of her funked-up, very fun version of Sam & Dave’s “Hold On, I’m Comin’,” from the 1981 album “Love All the Hurt Away,” she tossed in some “beep-beeps” and a couple of lines from “Little Jack Horner” because she knew she could make it work.

If good soul music is like good barbecue — slow cooked, falls off the bone — by the 1980s, she’d become a pit master, yelping and barking and wailing, but also talking in songs, sermonizing. You know the char and gristle, the bits of sugar and salt and fat on, say, a perfectly done slab of ribs? Most of this woman’s songs were blackened that way. Yet if Ms. Franklin told you she was going to take a classic R&B song and throw in a little nursery rhyme, you’d be nervous. Did 1986 really need a cover of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash?” Probably not. But she did it anyway — and robustly — and threw in a “hallelujah” while she was at it.

But, by that point, Ms. Franklin seemed well on her way to becoming somebody who might have relished the culture’s doubt. She loved music too much to be vestigial or nostalgic or relegated. She wanted — you know, what she wanted. And eventually respect was tricky to come by. I, at least, remember sitting on my bed watching the 1998 Grammys and hearing that she’d be filling in for Luciano Pavarotti and rolling my eyes. Ms. Franklin knew. She went out there, sang some Puccini, and left the nation in shock.The Queen of Opera, too?

Is it possible that despite the milestones and piles of Grammys (the now-defunct female R&B vocal performance category seemed invented just for her; she won the first eight), despite famously having been crowned the greatest singer of all time in a vast Rolling Stone survey, despite being Aretha Franklin, the Greatest was also rather underrated — as a piano player, as an arranger (who had a greater imagination when it came to coloring a song with backing singers), as an album artist? Despite the world’s bereavement over her death, despite her having been less a household name and more a spiritual resident of our actual home, despite giving us soundtracks for loneliness, for lovemaking, for joy, for church, cookouts and bars, despite the induction ceremonies, medals and honorary degrees, despite her having been the only Aretha most of us have ever heard of, is it possible that we’ve taken her for granted, that in failing to make her president, a saint or her own country, we still might not have paid her enough respect? Just a little bit.

Phroyd

#franklin #aretha

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tumultuoustuna · 7 years

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Hey hi! :) For the writing prompt maybe Shidge 16? .- @quinzak

16: Things you said with no space between us

Shout out to @orcaspanielmermaids for helping me edit this tiny monster; I love you bro!

Also, warning, it’s v long. the keep reading is there so I spare others from having to scroll for so long, I swear

Training is always close quarters, whether it be slashing and dashing away from the training sentinels or taking on a fellow Paladin. Today it was the latter for Pidge.

Shiro was a brutal opponent. Yes, she had defeated him before, but that was when he was under the influence of mind-controlling mushrooms. Now with Shiro as a true opponent, Pidge could only repeat one thing to herself as they brawled.

“Shit.”

The Black Paladin launched forward again, speed unparalleled to any of the other Paladins. Pidge took advantage of her jetpack yet again. Shiro hadn’t managed to catch her yet, but Pidge was counting. She just knew sooner or later he’d grab her.

She aimed her Bayard at the ceiling and pulled herself up. She planted her feet on it and looked down (well up from where she stood).

Waiting her turn to spar Allura was off to the side. She snorted, amused at Shiro’s frustration.

“Training usually consists of actual fighting last time I checked Pidge. You know, actual fighting?” Shiro called. Pidge smirked in return, putting all of her strength into keeping herself from falling.

“Pidge, come on,” he yelled. Pidge shrugged.

“Pidge!”

Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “Game point.”

To say the least, it surprised Shiro when a ninety-five-pound, green torpedo dropped on top of him, crushing him flat.

“I win,” grinned the torpedo.

Allura introduced the Paladins to the very, very overdramatic Altean soap operas one night after Coran had gone off with Slav and Matt to a planetside bazaar.

According to Slav, the planet was too liable to the shenanigans of the Paladins (”In 57% of most realities The Blue and Red ones get into a massive fight that ends with fire and the Castle crashing onto the planet.”). With that information and with it being a fact that Lance and Pidge found ways to be gremlins in short amounts of time, Allura agreed it was a good idea to stay on the ship and land it.

As they watched, Keith was overly confused, Hunk tried making hands-or-tails of the dialogue, Allura sighed dramatically at the idiot characters, and Lance was laughing at the jokes that broke through the language barrier and matched his style of humor to begin with.

With that said, Altean humor is actually just a bunch of memes and k-drama tropes.

It amused Pidge.

A lot.

Shiro too.

And while Matt would’ve been amused as well, he also would have tried to worm out Shiro’s secret meme humor, more to humiliate him then to laugh along with his friend. As it was though, Shiro was holding back making any remarks.

But alas Pidge knew better.

Coran, Slav, and Matt return shortly, gaining Lance’s and Hunk’s attention. Seeing the items they had procured were food based, said Paladins got to cooking. Matt, in favor of cooking, took Hunk’s place on the couch next to Keith.

When the credits started to scroll, Allura tossed a slim remote to Shiro so he could scroll through the channels on the holovision (Pidge’s genus name for the holographic tv) and find something to watch. “You need this,” she had smiled, leaving the room to watch Hunk work.

Shiro’s choice was a technicolor kid show. It starred aliens as the leads, who resembled cows. They were reciting what Pidge could only guess to be some sort of alphabet.

“What the fresh fuck, man?” Keith whispered slowly to Shiro, sounding genuinely concerned for his mental health.

Matt doubled over in fits of laughter. “Yeah! S-Shiro, buddy, what the heck?”

“What? Can a grown man not enjoy a colorful kids’ show with deer as its main characters?”

“Those are cows,” Pidge chimed in. “And you’re only two years older than me buddy, I assure you there’s nothing grown about you maturity-wise.”

“Guilty.”

Pidge made a grab for the remote.

“Pidge no. Let me have this,” Shiro pouted, shoving the shorter Paladin away by the shoulder.

“No, this is for your own good,” Pidge insisted, ducking under his arm and crawling over to snatch the remote.

“Get ‘im!” Matt encouraged.

Pidge squinted ever so slightly and pursed her lips. “Game point,” she muttered before making one last sitch effort to free the remote from Shiro’s grasp.

It all ended with Shiro more or less sitting on Pidge. And as massive as a fail it was, Matt sure got a kick out of it.

“I win,” Shiro smirked.

Pidge, with her head in the cushion, flipped him off

Matt was wheezing on the floor.

“I’m done with all of you,” Keith sighs, and leaves the lounge in favor of starting a food fight with Lance helping cook.

Shiro had issues sleeping some nights. It led to him wandering everywhere, even in the other Lions’ chambers. This led him to also find out what his fellow crew members did if sleep didn’t come.

Coran occasionally stayed up to see Allura to her room and that Allura often cried, away from eyes other then Coran.

Keith, even though he was a sucker for sleep, would be found in the kitchen. He stared wide-eyed at food rotating in the machine equivalent to a microwave when he had something on his mind, weighing him down.

Often he’d find Lance staring at maps on the bridge, looking at Earth. Tears silently rolled down his cheeks. Shiro often wanted to reach out and comfort him. Most of the time he had no idea how.

Hunk fiddled with random pieces of metal, crafting and welding together beautiful sculptures; he said it was because he loved the Balmera’s crystals, wanting to replicate them artistically.

Matt, upon coming back and plagued with nightmares, sought out Shiro some nights to talk.

Slav never slept, Shiro was certain.

The Blade members… He wasn’t sure what they exactly did. Played card games? Strategised?

Pidge was one he often didn’t see around the Castle. He had, more or less, seen everyone at one point doing their own thing at night, but Pidge was the odd one out in this format.

So seeing her in Green’s hanger actually took him by surprise. He blinked, shook his head, did a double take. Yep, it was Pidge.

“So uh, what brings you here? Come here often?” Shiro asked. It sounded too loud.

“I would hope so,” Pidge remarked.

“Uh, yeah.” Shiro scratched the back of his neck. “A better question I guess I should ask is why you’re here now?”

“Green’s cloaking device. It uh, broke.”

“How?”

“Might I remind you of Lotor’s last attack?”

“Oh, right.”

“It’s okay. We were all very… stressed. I don’t expect anybody to remember anything, let alone Green getting hit so precisely her cloaking device was damaged.”

Shiro’s brow raised. “This much apathetic salt leads me to believe you need some sleep, Katie.”

“Probably, Takashi.” Pidge yawned.

Pidge didn’t protest when Shiro scooped her up into his arms and started towards her room. She snuggled into his solid chest, glasses off and in her hands.

“I really wish Zarkon could be changed by just the power of friendship. It would make things so much easier,” Pidge muttered about halfway through the trip.

Shiro laughed softly. “Right? Lotor at least.”

“I mean, he has a bunch of generals. I’d would assume they’re friends.”

“The one named Ezor seems like she is.”

Pidge smiled sleepily. She had fought Ezor once, and she couldn’t stop talking to her the entire time. Sure, it was a serious fight, but what was a better catharsis to war than casual banter with the enemy? Ezor was actually quite fascinating and Pidge hoped they would meet one day on better terms, like the mall, and be able to talk even more casually.

“Yeah, she seems to be.”

Shiro opened the door to her room and set the small Paladin down as gently as he possibly could. He tucked her in, earning a look.

“I’m not five, Shiro.”

“I know, but I’d think anybody likes feeling like a kid again. That and I feel like you’d fall asleep without actually having blankets on yourself and freeze yourself.”

Pidge snorted. “Dude, how tired are you?”

“Very, if I’m gonna be honest.”

This gave the small girl an idea. “Why not stay here tonight?”

“What?”

“You kinda wander aimlessly in the halls and I worry sometimes. Maybe instead of being alone, you could stay here tonight,” Pidge nonchalantly laid out.

The Black Paladin looked over at the door for a moment. What would the others think?

“If you’re thinking what Matt would think, I can assure you he wouldn’t ask. Come on, give yourself more credit. You aren’t a sleazy guy.”

“It’s… okay.”

Shiro discarded his shoes and carefully removed his arm, putting them off to the side.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you without that honestly,” Pidge said in almost awe, staring at the now still appendage.

Shiro blushed. “Well, after I figured out how to turn off a lot of the nerves I took advantage of it. It was really painful to take it off at first. Enough so that I’d just scream.” He paused and sighed. “Your research helped a lot with that.”

“Well I mean, I’m glad I could help.”

“Me too. We’d be screwed without you.”

“Meh, your leadership holds us all together, not my skills.”

“Pidge, you’re the only way we have access to the ships’ computer systems and survive.” Shiro put his hand on her shoulder. “You are the reason anything gets done, ‘nough said.”

It was Pidge’s turn to blush. “I mean, yeah, but what I mean is that I’m not… Eh, how do I put this? Not the most approachable person? I mean, compared to Keith I’m a stellar example of extraversion. But I’m not the ‘team glue’ if you will. That goes to Lance.”

“Yes, but that’s not my point. Pidge, can you not just accept my compliment?”

“No. I must push away all forms of kindness and connection if I want to reach extreme levels of edgy-ness.”

“I am more than positive you got that from Keith.”

“He said it to Lance once; it was quite clever.”

Shiro grunted a ‘yes’ and fell silent. Others might have found it awkward, but the two Paladins stared into each other’s eyes for quite some time before Pidge smirked and said, “So are we going to sleep now?”

Shiro smiled, eyes drooping. “Uh huh,” he replied, mouth closed.

As Shiro drifted off, probably for the first time in a few days, Pidge grinned and wrapped her short arms around him as much as she could. Game point, she thought. As he snuggled closer, Pidge smile turned fonder as she said, “I win.”

“So did I,” muttered a half-conscious Shiro.

Hope you enjoyed!

#shidge #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #writing #fanfiction #yes it's different but i love it #shiro #pidge #paladins #slav #coran #allura #keith #lance #hunk #matt holt #tuna writes

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readerdye · 7 years

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@farseersfool tagged me in this wonderful questionnaire! Thank you so much!

RULES: Answer all questions, add one question of your own and tag as many people as there are questions. (I can’t tag anyone today, but please do this if you’re interested!)

Long post after the cut

1. coke or pepsi: After that commercial the other day, Coke.

2. disney or dreamworks: Dreamworks, I think. They have How to Train Your Dragon and Kung Fu Panda and Shrek! But if Disney keeps creating stuff like Moana, I might have to switch.

3. coffee or tea: Coffee, probably, but I can’t drink it. If I do, I’m wired and bouncy and awful. So I’m trying to switch over to tea.

4. books or movies: Definitely, definitely books. I can manage movies sometimes...but only if I can fidget and talk straight through it. Even TV shows are hard to sit through for me.

5. windows or mac: Windows, because I can play more games.

6. dc or marvel: Okay, so the Captain-America-Nazi thing was ATROCIOUS. But Marvel has those tiny, cute franchises like Patsy Walker AKA Hellcat and Squirrel Girl and nonviolent superheroes, and I like that trend. So I’ll go with Marvel, provided I don’t read any of the big-names anymore.

7. xbox or playstation: PlayStation for life. (Sadly, though, I don’t have a PS4 and am therefore behind the times. RIP Horizon Zero Dawn)

8. dragon age or mass effect: Dragon Age, definitely. I haven’t gotten around to playing Mass Effect.

9. night owl or early riser: Being a night owl is the Worst Possible Thing for a depressed kiddo to be, and yet. I’m trying to switch to early bird, but it’s not working for me.

10. cards or chess: Cards, definitely. There’s a lot more variety in what you can play, and I just like the feeling of shuffling.

11. chocolate or vanilla: Vanilla. Not a huge chocolate fan.

12. vans or converse: Ahahahahahaha you think I buy name-brand shoes. That’s hilarious. I’ve been wearing the life out of the same pair of sneakers for two years, and I don’t even know what brand they are. Payless brand.

13. lavellan, trevelyan, cadash, or adaar: Oooh. I feel like Lavellan is more central to the plot and can interact more meaningfully with Inquisition’s setting, but I really, really loved playing an Adaar.

14. fluff or angst: Fluff fluff fluff. Too much stress and I have to put the book down and step outside to breathe.

15. beach or forest: Beach, and now I’m landlocked. (sigh)

16. dogs or cats: Cats. Dogs are cute, but they don’t know when to leave you alone. Cats get personal space and kind of live their own lives.

17. clear skies or rain: I loved the torrential downpours back in Houston, but now that I’m in Colorado, clear skies are SO nice. Not too warm, perfect for relaxing outside (I say from my computer chair).

18. cooking or eating out: I order way too much take-out, I’ll admit that. I really love and miss cooking, but it’s hard to muster the energy.

19. spicy food or mild food: Spicy! Well, it depends on the type. If you’re just chopping up 85 jalapenos for fun, then no thank you, but an Indian curry will get me every time.

20. halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: Solstice/Yule/Christmas is more family-and-friends-ish, so I like it a little better. I’m not a very spooky person.

21. would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: I’m guessing this is excluding the possibility of wearing jackets or short sleeves to correct for temperature, right? Eesh. I’m rarely ever too hot, so I guess too cold, since at least I’m used to that.

22. if you could have a superpower, what would it be: Shapeshifting yes please! I’m with you, Rowan.

23. animation or live action: Animation. It’s just fun! And the art choices are so interesting to me (I can’t draw a stick figure, but I like seeing other people who can).

24. paragon or renegade: Haven’t played Mass Effect, but my understanding is that Paragon is kinda the lawful good choice and Renegade is more chaotic, right? I’m sadly lawful good. So paragon. (And I’ve also heard that renegade is racist, so no thank you. Although I’ve also heard that renegade is passionate about defending their friends...)

25. baths or showers: Baths are my relaxing “calm down everything’s okay” treat to myself.

26. team cap or team ironman: Um...as far as Superhero Rules go, I really loved Ta-Nahisi Coates’ article about this: Iron Man is the logical choice. Right? You can’t have superheroes running around exempt to all rules. But Cap is the heart-choice, because if you knew a rule would hurt your best friend in all the world, and you didn’t feel he deserved that punishment, you’d fight. In my head, Iron Man, because giving superheroes free reign is a recipe for disaster. BUT I think situations have changed: for better or worse, Marvel is very America-centric. So the one registering the mutants would probably be our president. Which would be Trump. So now I’m Team Cap. (Don’t get me wrong. Both superheroes are intolerable.)

27. fantasy or sci-fi: Fantasy...but it’s a tough call! I love my cyborg-futuristic-alternate-planet-space-operas SO much that I might have to switch that answer soon. Some really cool things have been happening in sci-fi lately.

28. do you have three or four favourite quotes? if so what are they: “You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.” - Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”

"If the ocean can calm itself so can you. We are both salt water mixed with air.” - Nayyirah Waheed, “Meditation”

29. youtube or netflix: Netflix. There’s more of a quality guarantee.

30. harry potter or percy jackson: Harry Potter. I really love the diversity in Percy Jackson, but I hit them too late to appreciate the jokey style of humor.

31. when you feel accomplished: When I write and everything flies around and connects inside my head. It hasn’t happened for a long time.

32. star wars or star trek: I’ve been told I’d like Star Trek more, especially old-school philosophical Trek, but I don’t know enough about it to say.

33. paperback books or hardback books: Paperbacks are my preference, but I get so many hardbacks from the library that my preference is switching.

34. horror or rom-com: They’re both actually really tense (interpersonal conflict stresses me out!). But maybe rom-com, since I can sleep afterwards.

35. to live in a world without literature or music: I get to pick? I’m actually going to go with a world without literature, because then we could all return to oral storytelling and ballads, and because if I couldn’t hum then I’d never do the dishes.

36. pastel colours or dark colours: Dark, but actual colors: not just black, but maroon and plum and navy blue and the like.

37. tv shows or movies: Movies...? TV shows are doing such marvelous and interesting things, but I never, ever finish them, because I can’t binge-watch to save my life and I always find something else that needs doing.

38. city or countryside: I grew up visiting my grandfather’s land, and I loved getting up early in the morning when the sky was all misty and the world was quiet. Then I moved to a Tiny Country Town and realized exactly how wonderful-but-awful that kind of place could be. I’m glad my still-there friends are turning it into a better place, but now I prefer the city.

39. if any other zodiac sign could describe you, what would it be: I remember everyone posted the What Zodiac Thingamajig are You lists for a while, and Virgo was always something like “glaring over your spectacles,” and Pisces was “You’re a nice fluffy bunny who daydreams too much and flakes out and sometimes cries because flowers can’t sneeze.” So Pisces, I guess?

40. if you could only listen to one album for the rest of your life what would it be: ahahaha, you think I listen to albums.

41. cinema or theatre: Theatre! Much more interactive, especially tiny theaters where the performers are right near you. I can’t focus on movies (the screen maybe?), but I just end up staring at theater slack-jawed.

42. if you could be any fictional character’s best friend, who’d you be: So many of my favorite characters have such difficult lives.

43. smiling or smirking: Smiling? I can’t really smirk.

44. are you an ‘all or nothing’ type or are you more consistent: All or nothing. I’m trying to develop consistency.

45. playlists or your whole library on shuffle: Whole library on shuffle! My mom swears by playlists, but I want to always be surprised.

46. travelling or staying at home: I like traveling. Really truly honestly: I’m used to uncomfortable sleeping situations, and for some reason all of my road trips have ended up being bizarrely in-depth and soul-searching. Plus I like seeing new places.

47. books or fanfiction: Books, but I still love fanfiction and applaud those who write it!

48. If you could live in a fantasy world, what world would it be: One of those integrated-fantasy worlds, where it’s just like ours only fey creatures and divergent multicultural myths have been added in. I’d really love to wait behind a centaur at Starbucks.

49. your favorite cartoon: Steven Universe, but I just discovered Phineas and Ferb and it’s delightful.

50. name the weirdest five songs on your itunes, current or past: Let’s see. “The Pirate Ninjas from Dino Island” was egregious. Mrs. Burch’s science songs (please tell me someone remembers). Some bagpipe cacophony. Everyone says “No Blue Thing” was weird but it was my favorite for YEARS. And there’s this song from Amelie that starts with aysynchronous piano notes, tosses in a bunch of snapping and whistling, ties in accordion music, and ends on a music box. I don’t remember the title, but that one was odd.

51. a favorite song that starts with the same letter as your name: Last name work? “By Yon Bonnie Banks.”

52. the last inanimate object you named: my House Squid! Its name is Herman.

Thank you for this again! I won’t tag anyone this time...I’m still too sporadic on Tumblr, so whoever wants can do it. But thank you again!

#reader writes #long post #thank you!

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