#technoskittles

Oh yeah. I will be disappointed if we don’t see something like this, tbh.

B: “So tell me about yourself.” His words appear in bold white text across the phone screen set in front of him. There are a few errors, but the live transcribe app he’s downloaded manages a better job than many others she’s had to experience. (A: This isn’t a date.) She texts rapidly, because she is not giving him a modicum of hope in that department. She hits send and looks up at him expectantly. There’s a sort of deer in the headlights expression on his face for a few moments before his phone catches his attention. He reads over her message before turning back to her and smiling. B: “I know.” The words appear in a scroll, sometimes scrubbing back to self correct. “I want to get to know you better." (A: What do you want to know?) B: “Were you born deaf? Do you have any siblings? How long were you a police officer?” (A: No, I could hear until I was 13. That's why I can speak and still mostly be understood. I remember what the sounds are like. I still remember how I sound.) She reaches for her coffee mug and takes a sip. It's delightfully hot. That's about all she can say though; Barre put in too much milk and sugar. She wonders if Catra would make it the same way. B: “Do you miss it?” (A: Miss what? ) B: “Hearing.” She thinks of Catra throwing her head back and laughing. (A: Sometimes.) (A: What is your first name, anyway?) She's only a little embarrassed that she hasn't asked sooner. B: “Rock no. Rock Oh. R O C C O, Rocco. Rock O. Barre. R O C C O Barre.” A waitress stops by to ask if everything is to their liking (at least Adora assumes so; it's hard to read her lips in the dim light of the cafe), and then moves on. At least it's nice and warm inside. A sudden storm has washed over the city and the windows of the shop weep with rain. B: “So, do you have a boyfriend?” A: (No. I’m gay.) Hasn’t she told him this before? B: “Girlfriend, then?” She almost says yes, if only to get him to stop asking. Instead, she takes a sip of her sickeningly sweet coffee. (A: Were you born in the city?) She asks him, because she feels like she should at least put in some kind of effort. B: “No, just outside of it. Most of my family is still out there, though. Are you deaf? Because of the white fever?” (A: Yeah.) B: “How did your parents take that?” (A: I never knew my parents.) B: “That’s unusual or maybe not that unusual--I mean what do I know really. Were you in a foster home or something?” (A:I was adopted by this older woman named Razz. She took care of me.) B: “Did she already know ESL? Or did she learn when you lost your hearing?” (A: We learned together.) Adora bites the inside of her cheek. It’s been too long since she went to visit Razz’s grave. B: “That’s great, though, I mean, that you had someone to do that with--hey! Teach me how to sign my name?” “B-A-R-R-E.” She signs. B: “Wait, I missed it--again?” And because it seems like he is genuinely interested and not simply trying to be polite, she walks him through each of the letters. It takes him a few tries, and he’s painfully slow, but no more than any other person first learning their signs, and the way he grins with pride at the end makes it worth it. (A: You’ll be fluent in no time.) She texts. B: “It’s great to learn new languages. I mean I only know the one really but I have this one uncle who knows like 10. He is a doctor. He didn’t used to know as many but when the White Fever happened there were a lot of patients who didn’t speak the same language because I guess some of the hybrids have a language entirely of their own or something? So he decided to learn some. Did you know that they were the primary like uh what’s the word uh carriers for the first wave? If it weren't for them. We could have contained it so much faster more them died, right. A friend of mine told me it’s beat they're not clean.” The way it was taught to her in school, the hybrids were largely responsible for the initial spread of the Fever. Some scientists posited that it was because most hybrids don’t take showers or bathe in the same way that humans do, but there’s never been any real substantial evidence one way or another. Nevertheless, the rumor started that hybrids are inherently dirty, and it’s been a reputation they haven’t been able to shake. They are filthy. They’re flea-bitten. They carry diseases. But. Adora remembers watching the painstaking hours Catra spent brushing through her fur. She remembers Catra, back split open, trying to peel off the dirty sheets of her bed. She remembers her trying to wash the dishes with her knuckles cracked. (A: Not all hybrids are dirty.) Adora texts. It feels weak. B: “Uh I’m sure they’re not, not all of them, but still enough. And I mean they’re behind this gang war, too, right I mean they’re very violent. My uncle he. My other uncle I mean not the same one who was a doctor. This uncle was carjacked a few weeks ago by some hybrids can you believe that? I mean I don’t blame the cops I know you guys are doing the best you can, right, with the resources that you do have after all but it’s hard because there sure are a lot of them they kinda breed like rabbits don’t they? My dad’s friend told me that for every human baby born there are two hybrid babies born.” It’s at that moment that Catra walks through the door. She’s wearing a heavy jacket with the hood up and Adora does not think she has ever been more beautiful. Adora waves frantically, ignoring the way that Barre turns his head. “Fancy meeting you here.” Catra signs from across the room.Catra removes her coat and shakes rain water out of her shaggy mane. She’s wearing fishnets beneath her ripped jeans and her hands are adorned with fingerless gloves. Her yellow-blue gaze flickers to Barre and back. “In need of some rescuing, princess?” B: “Oh, uh hi uh are you a friend of Adora’s?” He’s turned in his chair and is holding out his hand in greeting. Somehow it still feels like he’s looking down his nose. Catra stands across from where Adora’s seated and for a moment there’s this open, unguarded expression of longing. Adora’s still trying to determine if she’s actually seeing it or if she’s projecting when Catra blinks and the shutters come down once more. Her face is a mask. She sits down on the arm of a plush red chair immediately adjacent to Barre. B: “Hey...is everything alright?” He asks, brows knitting together. “What are you doing with this joker?” Catra signs, expression completely impassive. “I owed him a favor.” She admits. “Is this a date?” Catra raises her eyebrows. Something like a smirk curls her lips. Oh no. “This is not a date.” She cannot have Catra thinking she’s on a date with someone. “Does HE know that?” She asks, eyes firmly on Adora even as she jabs a clawed thumb in Barre’s direction. B: “Adora is she bothering you?” (A: Barre, this is my friend—) but before she manages to hit send she sees new text has appeared in white on Barre’s phone. “I’m her girlfriend.” Catra sits on the arm of the chair, calm as can be, like she hasn’t just dropped this bomb in the middle of the cafe. B: “Oh.” Barre says. Then, “OH,” his eyes go wide. B: “I’m--I’m Rocco Barre, from work, with Adora, I mean I work with Adora, this is just coffee between friends--but I’m sure you know that, because you’re dating and you probably talk about all that sort of stuff,” he rambles. He at least has the decency to look embarrassed. He holds out his hand again, as well. B: “I am sure you are perfectly clean and very hygienic. I mean you came in out of the rain so you know, you had a shower already today!” “Has this guy lost his fucking mind?” A smile curls at the edge of Catra’s lips. There’s something less...sour, about it this time. “I wouldn’t say he’s crazy, but he’s definitely an idiot.” “I hate him.” “Okay he’s not THAT bad. Be nice.” “He called me dirty.” “Like I said. He’s an idiot. Hang on—” Adora starts to type up a message on her phone, because she knows what it’s like for people to make false assumptions about you. A: “Some hybrids use combs and brushes for their fur instead of taking showers, because they don’t sweat the same way that we do.” She looks up from the message she’s typing to see that Barre is trying to talk to Catra. Keyword, trying. She looks to be completely ignoring him, apart from the occasional reflexive ear twitch. He turns his attention when his phone (presumably) pings, notifying him of the message she sent. B: “Oh! I mean wait really is that really. Some of them clean themselves like. Wait. So they don’t sweat spike we do?” “Would it be easier if I translated?” Catra wonders out loud, signing as she speaks. “Your device is...a little inaccurate.” She reaches forward with a claw and taps at the screen of Barre’s phone. He frowns for a moment, then looks to Adora. B: “I mean I guess so what harm could do right Adora?” From the look on Catra’s face, quite a bit. But how can she say no? She shrugs. B: “Sorry you are the first deaf person hive really talk to to so this is very new to me” “You’re the first deaf person I’ve met so this is new to me.” Catra translates. Adora admits it’s much easier to look at her than squint at the text on Barre’s phone. “A lot about this whole experience is new to me, actually. The two of you make for an unusual couple.” Barre states and Catra signs. He keeps looking at her while he’s speaking. It’s awkward because Catra’s sitting immediately next to him so he’s constantly craning his neck. “How long have you known each other?” “We met yesterday. We’re getting married tomorrow.” Catra responds curtly and Adora kicks her shin. “I asked you to be nice!” “How can I be nice to someone who looks like what this guy looks like?” Which isn’t an answer at all really and yet somehow exactly what Adora expected. Barre speaks up again. “I am sure that the wedding will be very beautiful.” Catra translates.. Adora can’t tell if he is joking or not. “We’re not actually getting married.” “Ohhh.” His left leg bounces up and down and he considers this new information. Two seconds of this and Catra apparently loses interest, reaching over to Adora’s coffee. She cradles it in her palms for a moment before taking a sip. “This isn’t how you take your coffee.” She scowls. B: “What are you smiling at?” Barre asks, and Adora blinks a few times to shake away the feeling of warmth in her chest. (A: “Something silly Catra said.) “How do you know that’s not how I take my coffee?” She asks Catra, who is still holding her mug. “Well for starters, it’s consumable.” “Why did you drink it if you know you hate how I take my coffee?” Catra just shrugs, and Adora rolls her eyes. “Also are you going to translate or not?” “You are such a needy girlfriend.” Catra rolls her eyes. Adora tries her best to push back the feelings of warmth and affection that swell in her chest. “What were you two talking about?” Barre asks through Catra. “How she needs to get her hands off of my coffee.” Adora answers. B: “Those are the consequences of being in a relationship though haha you share your coffee!” Even though Catra is translating, Barre’s phone is still out. Which is good because what Catra says next has nothing to do with coffee. “He says that you should give me whatever I want and that also I’m going to take you home and push you against a stall and kiss the fuck out of you.” Heat immediately rushes to her face. “I--I’m—” she stutters out loud. C: “Oh would you look at the time! I just realized that there’s somewhere we need to be. Thanks so much for this--whatever your name is. Bye!” Catra’s words appear on Barre’s phone in time with the grin on her face. B: “Aw this too bad. Thanks for coming! We have to do this again sometime. Catch Ah can come too. Have a good—” day! At least that’s what she assumes he says. Catra grabs Adora’s shirt collar and tugs her away before she can finish reading. “Bye! Thanks!” She squeaks, helpless to do anything but follow Catra . She’s never been happier to step out into a rainstorm.

The word floating around from attendees is that it happened at a panel during Louisville Supercon. He was asked “So what do you ship?” and he supposedly said “I ship BS and when that fails… I have Neptune to fall back on.” which does actually sound like a very Micheal response. 

But you won’t say it, so you just grin at the head mechanic’s very impressed look and drawl, “Yeah, she’s great.”

me and probably @weissrose too need a link to this, stat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17843750/chapters/42106340

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My hair is indeed brown