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chemicallady · 3 years

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Matching

Greg Sanders x Reader!

A/N: Hi everyone! Have you ever noticed that there are not enough Greg Sanders fanfiction in the world? I have looked for some for a while, but nothing. Now, stop complaining and let's have fun togheter, this is my first Greg Sanders x Reader! I hope you will like it! Besos!

Couple: Greg Sanders/Female!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warning: //

Summary: this is the first time Greg tries to find love with an app. Who knows whohe is gonna meet with a cyber matching?

***

Las Vegas, October 5th 2015

The last month was rough for him. Many things had changed forever. Nick had resigned from the team, Sarah decided to take a break after a big promotion in order to restore her relationship with Grissom, Catherine is back to her position as the leader of the night shift.

Russell is moving on with his life and Finn is gone. Forever. No matter how much his tried to save her life or they prayed for her, she is gone.

Greg is not confortable with big changes. For the first time in forever he is feeling like he is flooting. Dr Robbins said that is normal, in a moment like this one, in which he has escaped the death again, to feel this way.

«Maybe you need a fresh new start.»

Everyone is starting something, whatever. Nick is a boss now, Sarah is happy with her ex husband and former director of the lab. Even Hodges is living the moment, with a new girlfriend.

«He met her on a website», Henry said to Greg during a coffee break.

He laughted, then he used this information against Hodges.

«It isnt a website... I am not dating a russian wife!»

Greg smirked, «No more girls interested in your Visa after the italian one?»

«Shut the fuck up, Sanders. Nowdays is normal using dating app. You should try and stop wasting my time!»

****

He didnt download Tinder only because Hodges suggested it.

Of course.

He decided to try the app only to dimostrate that is a poor life choice.

But the amounth of time he have spent in looking at girls profiles is already too much to look credible. Furthermore, Lindsay have noticed him swapping girls away and she giggled amused. «You should try to go on a date. Dont tell my mom, but I met a guy once, on Tinder. He was really awsome, but he was a tourist. An advice, always take a loool if she is a resident!»

And he followed her suggestion, making the opposite. Just to have some fun.

There are many people who only are in Vegas for having fun and even if was cool, meeting girls who only want a one night stand, after three or four date started to make him feel bored.

He always talk a little about is job, fake interesting in the girl’s plan for her vacation and everything ending in the morning.

So he decided to try something else.

A serious date, for once.

***

He is exploring your profile since the moment you two matched. He is fascinating by your (y/e/c) eyes in the profile picture. You look smart but gentle at the same time. No mention to the fact that even if you are linving in Vegas, you are from (you hometown/nation) and you are a PhD candidate in Archaelogy.

You dont look like the other girls he met in the last period. You are a student, a really good one. You have a picture in front of Columbia University, which you attended for your MSc and graduated.

So you are not only smart, but really intelligent.

You have those beautiful (y/h/c) hair and a gentle smile.

So he picks all his courage and writes you a simple ‘hi’.

You dont answer immediatly, even if you have read the message. So Greg closes the app with disappointed. Well. It’s proved. You cant find love in one of this app.

He decides that is far better to start with the awfull pile of documents on the desk, before is too late. Or to early, depends by the point of view.

***

He had finished with paperwork around 7 am and so he decided to go home.

In the moment he enters the living room, he feels so lonely. It’s happening quite often in the last period. He kicks his shoes away and sits on the sofa, taking a deep breath. With his eyes close, he starts to thing about the last serious date and its look like a century ago.

And it was a complete failure.

Everytime he fell for a girl is always the same old story. Firstly, amazing. Then a mess because of his job.

But he doesn't have to change is life only because he feels the emptiness of his house. He has worked so much to achieve this results and now...

Now? What he has? A good position in an horrible schedule shift. An amazing group of team mates - unfortunately Hodges is still working in the materials lab, but who cares- but no social life. No family. He is 40 now and he was looking for a 25 years girl.

So silly.

So stupid.

But what's is even silliest? Losing himself in those throughs instead of sleep. He has his shift starting at 11 pm, but he has the laudary to do. And he need to clean the apartment. Is full of dust.

****

After seven hours sleeping, he feels himself far more positive. It's around 2 pm when he wakes up and start with the laudary. He gets a look on the phone and answer to Morgan under a pic on facebook, than he notices that he has a new notification on Tinder.

He is so surprise when he realises that is you.

-who wrote 'hi' at 4.30 in the morning?-

He blushes a little, thinking about it. It was really early and he hasnt realised it.

-someone who is working at night...?-

The answer is not the best. But you are smart and you bring a good observation.

-like a hooker?-

He laught a little, rising his elbow.

-sorta. But not so well paid.-

Making fun of the hookers is not a good way to start a conversation, but someway, it works. You two share some messages and then you give your phone number to him.

You are free tomorrow for lunch, even if is unusual meeting someone with the sun in the sky, in Vegas.

And he is totaly down.

***

Is strange for you to go on a date with someone you don't know. But it is even strangest go for a lunch date. It's look so formal to you, but the guy in the profile pic looks potentially awsome. You have read from his description that he works for the Clark Country Police Department and this is a hot detail: you have a thing for cops.

You dressed nicely for the lunch inside The Venice's restaurant. Classy choice by the way. But not elegant because is 12 am. You also decide to go easy on your make up, because after this date you have to help in teaching a bacherlo class and you are hoping that you won't have enough time to change, after the meal.

So here we go.

In front of the restaurant.

You look around and see a figure a couple of meters away from you. He is pretty tall and with dark blonde hair. He is also well dressed, better then you, but not formal.

Your glazes meet in the middle of the atrium and you both smile embarrassed. He is the first one to move some steps near to you.

《Hi. You are (y/n)?》

《Yes. And you must be Greg.》

You shake his hand and then catch his invitation to enter in the restaurant first. The waiter reserved you a nice place on the balcony. The cannel is fake, not even similar to the Italian one, but is romantic.

One score for Greg.

《What would you like to eat?》, he asked so politely that you can't help yourself, but smile back.

《I thing I'll go with a sandwich for lunch》

《Nice choice, I am down. Wine?》

《Sorry, but I have a class in the afternoon...》

This time he is smiling. 《Then water for two.》

He is so kind. He decides to drink water because you can't drink wine. This is another score.

After you two have made your orders, it's time for questions.

《Do you usually meet people this way?》, je asks, nicely. Even if there is no accusation in the tune of his voice, you blush a little.

《It's not the first time, but I am still a skeptical, by the way.》

《Why?》

《Because I've met only morons on Tinder. 》 You try your best smile. 《Hope you are not one of them.》

《I share this hope with you》, he jokes. 《I am looking for your verdict at the end of the meal, so.》

You both laught. Is a nice company and the tension is going away.

《So you are a cop?》

《Not exactly. I work for the crime like as a crime scene investigator.》

You looked impressed. 《Sounds amazing but hard at the same time. I am asking to my self you an awsome guy like you is still single.... is for your job?》

This time is Greg the one who blushes. 《Yes is really... It takes most of my time. Someday all of my time.》

《I can relate》, you say. 《I am not cool as you are, I don't save people for live, neither I am good in puzzle but... I work on field so I spend several weeks abroad. Sometimes even a month or two and when I come back...》

《...You have the feeling that everyone is carries on with his life but you are static》 he ends your statement. 《Yes, you can relate, totaly.》

You two share a smile and then he starts to ask you some questiom about your job, your position at the UNLV and stuffs.

In the end, after a sweet fight, he insists to pay the meal, but you put on the table the tips.

《It was really nice 》, you say and he agrees. 《We should do that again. What's your spare night?》

《Monday》 he aswers, immediately 《If my boss wont tell me otherwise.》

《If you are agree, you can see eachother again on Monday, so.》

《It will be amazing.》

Another smile and a little silence. You have no idea of what to do now. Is too soon for a kiss, but an hand shake would be awful. So you decide to come closer to him and kiss his cheek. Is so cute the way he blushes again. Greg is near now and you can feel his breath on your lips. For him, is not too soon. He gently puts a hands on you hip and drag you into a soft kiss.

The best way to end a good date.

****

《So how is she?》

After two weeks dating, Greg decides to tell the guys about you.

Terrible idea.

《She is so nice!》 He starts excited, while Catherine is laught, shaking is head and look at David Philips in the classical 'told ya' way. 《She is beautiful and gentle. She is also tremendously determinate. More than anything, she is so intelligent and her smell is amazing.》

《She can cook?》, Super Dave asks, joking.

《Everything you can say, she can do it. Is incredible. She speaks like five languages and is so sexy in bed.》

《This information is not necessary 》 is Catherine's comment.

But Dave wants to prove a point now. 《....She speaks five languages in bed or it was not correlated?》

《Guys, we are on a crime scene.》

The two boys share a small smile and wait for Russell to be far enough. So Dave asks one last question. 《Are you only fancy her... or maybe you are already in love?》

Greg thinks about it for a couple of second. 《I am already fucked.》

Dave laughs, 《of couse you are.》

#csi #greg sanders #greg sanders imagine #greg sanders x reader #greg sanders fanfiction #csi fanfiction #fanservice #fanfiction #character x reader #csi x reader

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angstew · 3 years

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How to have a baby during COVID-19 pt 2-The roller coaster of pregnancy

And so it began. The roller coaster of pregnancy. The first & only pregnancy I’ve experienced. In the middle of a pandemic. While barely sober enough to be done detox. What a combo. But I was determined to break the stereotype. I would not endanger my unborn child, I would not resort to my selfish & reckless ways. I would do something different. And then reality hit, and I felt the whole emotional rainbow at once, and then felt guilty for some of the ways I felt, shameful, like I didn’t deserve to have a child with the thoughts I was having. In case you’re not familiar with addiction & recovery, there is no cure. I know it’s a controversial subject(my favorite kind) but in my experiences it is NOT a choice, it is NOT curable, and the biggest argument starter it seems, I was born this way. Example, when I was younger & I discovered skinny jeans, I bought every different color of the same pair....when I found a song or a band I liked, that’s all I listened too until my mom finally had enough. You get the idea. Anyway, so that being said, some of the thoughts that swirled around my head in the early stages of the pregnancy included “just do one” “noone would know” “the baby will be fine just once” “I wont be a good mom anyway so why not just do what everyone expects” I am proud to say, that I did not use during my pregnancy, and still haven’t to this day but I do not judge women that do, it’s heartbreaking how sad but real that struggle is. And I was so embarrassed to share those thoughts, because I felt like I shouldn’t be having them. More about that later...

Okay, so now I’m pregnant, my fiance & I live in a recovery house, we were both just laid off of work, and I mean within 1.5 months of finding out, we were both jobless, and I was absolutely petrified. This may be TMI, but I have always been afraid of the dentist & the OBGYN, so getting poked, prodded, and having a human being come out of there mortified me. So, I did what anyone in this society does-google. I downloaded every single pregnancy app, I googled every single movement, feeling, question & thought I could think of. I was determined to be good to this baby, to undo all the wrong I had done through my life. My fiance turned into the baby whisperer, talking to my stomach before this baby was even the size of a kidney bean. It was beautiful. Thank GOD for the PUA money, because without that we probably would’ve had this baby in a recovery house....just kidding, but seriously we would’ve been living with family & not able to bond as a little unit. While I was out of work though, I tried to use the time to read, learn & eat as much as possible. The first 4 months all the baby wanted was nachos, until one long awful night filled with vomit, diarrhea & lots of tears, I didn’t go near Mexican again. After that, it was hot wings. I started eating mayo on sandwiches (which I HATED), ate eggs every morning(also wasn’t a big fan), whatever that baby wanted to eat he got, my fiance made sure of it. And I can’t forget the famous pregnancy pillows. A true must have. My fiance’s dad got me a C shaped pillow & my fiance became as obsessed with it as I was. I would fold this thing up in it’s little portable bag & drag it back & forth between my house & my fiance’s just to get some comfort...& so my fiance could get a little snuggle with it here & there. So as soon as I started getting used to being pregnant, and started to embrace all the changes, I became a house manager for 10 women, which means a glorified babysitter- giving drug tests, monitoring chores, enforcing rules, which would be fine if people want to get sober, but this particular group wasn’t there. So it was very difficult, and honestly, I didn’t give as much attention & effort as I should have, but I was determined to try and help as much as I could, while juggling all of my own things. Needless to say, around 7 months pregnant I had to step down. The drama, the running back & forth between spending time with my fiance & having to deal with house shit became too much. All I wanted to do was be with the father of my child & experience every little thing with him.

Okay, so I know I’m jumping around, and for that I apologize, pregnancy brain is a real thing & 7 months postpartum it’s still alive and well. So, I finally got the courage to tell my mom about the baby. She was the last one I told, and the one I was most afraid to tell. My mom & I have always been incredibly close, she’s been the most amazing support that I could ask for. But I knew before telling her what she’d say...”are you crazy” “this is NOT the time to have a baby” “you are being so irresponsible” and it actually ended up going WORSE than I imagined. We barely spoke for months, and when we did, there was so much tension, so many things unsaid & so many unshared feelings you could literally FEEL it in the air. It was absolutely terrible. It was the hardest part about the pregnancy for the most part. She finally started to come around right before we moved into our apartment, because I think she realized she didn’t want to lose out on her daughter & her life. I was moving into my first apartment, yes at 27, finally moving into my first apartment, I was getting bigger & more exciting things were happening with the baby, I was finally growing up & starting this beautiful life & I think my mom realized she would miss out if she didn’t put aside her feelings and just be my mom. I still am so grateful for the moment she came around, because I didn’t really have anyone to talk too, woman wise. Sure, I could ask the older women at the house, or people I knew, but it’s not the same as MY mom. I wanted to be able to ask her the gross, embarrassing questions I didn’t even want to acknowledge were happening to me. “What do I do about the horrible acne I have?” “What makes this gas go away?” “Will I poop on the delivery table?!” “What happens if the baby comes out & I’m not ready to be a mom yet?” Questions only a mom can answer. Thank God for moms.

So as I said earlier, at about 7 months, we finally were able to move into our own apartment, and I was ecstatic. I could sleep with my fiance AND my pregnancy pillow at the same time. I could fill my refrigerator with whatever me & my fiance(AKA my fiance & the baby) wanted, and most importantly, we could start getting ready for this baby. We could give him a HOME. Decorate the different rooms, get the nursery ready, we could settle down, relax & wait for this baby to make his grand appearance. It was just one less thing to be stressed about, we had somewhere to bring this new little guy too, we could be together & we could pack for the hospital...something I waited until about 8 months 1 week to do....

After we finally settled into our new place, I noticed the famous swelling of the hands & feet, only this was not normal. And unfortunately, the hospital that I was going too for prenatal care was ALWAYS slammed, it was during COVID so the doctors wanted to be in & out, it was someone different every time & I felt like nothing I said was heard or more importantly, taken seriously. So when I started complaining about the swelling, without even looking at it, it was dismissed as normal swelling, and I was told I was fine. I was starting to go for weekly stress tests as well after my appointments and THERE was when the preeclampsia was discovered. Not at my OB appointment, where they’re supposed to be physically checking me and making sure I’m okay. Where I complained of swelling, headaches, fatigue, which are all red flags. Anyway, at 8 months 2 weeks, I went for an OB & stress test appointment. As usual the OB said everything looked great, HA. I went down for my stress test, found out my BP was 145/90, after taking it 4 times it was determined I had preeclampsia & would be admitted immediately for delivery. It was hands down the most terrifying thing in my life(at that moment, because it got much scarier in the next few days) Because of COVID, my fiance wasn’t allowed in the appointments with me, so when I found out I was staying, I called him in a meltdown, while begging the nurses to let him come up. And so began the most traumatic, excruciating, beautiful, breathtaking week of my life...the induction of Oliver. (yeah, you read that correctly, a WEEK)

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wildcard-rumi · 4 years

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Takuto Maruki Week Day 1 Prompt - Phantom Thief Maruki

"I'm telling you, dude, he sucks! Out of all the classes, why did he have to be in the same one as me?!"

Takuto smiled awkwardly as his best friend vented about a classmate he despised while they walked home. This was the first time they had attended a different school. Shibusawa and Rumi went to Shujin as they had always planned, while Takuto had managed to score himself a scholarship at Kosei.

"Oh come on, surely he can't be that bad…" He muttered. Shibusawa had a bad habit of exaggerating things, especially when he was irritated.

"Oh no, he is horrible… We've only been there a week and he's already hit on every damn girl in our year…" Rumi huffed as she rolled her eyes in disgust.

"...Y-You're kidding, right?" Takuto grimaced, looking down at his phone. Huh? That was a weird app on there… It had an eyeball icon… Now that he thought about it, that same app had somehow downloaded itself onto his phone last night as well… But, he could have sworn that he deleted it…? He swiped it down to the trashcan icon. But nothing happened.

"I wish I was… He hit on me as well, and when I told him that I had a boyfriend, he said 'He doesn't have to know'... God, he makes me sick…" Rumi spat out, her face scrunching up as she remembered that horrid exchange.

"What the hell…?" Takuto muttered as he tried again to delete the app. It refused. He opened it to see what could be causing it.

"Seriously?! Ugh, he makes me wanna puke! If he tries anything again, lemme know. I'll punch his lights out for you." Shibusawa growled as he kicked a nearby can in irritation. Takuto's eyebrows furrowed together as he investigated the strange app. It seemed to be some sort of navigation app… Although, if that was the case, why did it have such a creepy design?

"Just… For fuck's sake, why did I have to be stuck in the same class as Suguru Kamoshida, the ever so glorious volleyball king of Shujin Academy?" Shibusawa groaned, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Huh?" Takuto hummed in confusion as the words 'Suguru Kamoshida' and 'Shujin Academy' appeared on his phone's screen. Target? Location? What did that mean? What the hell was a distortion?

"Ugh, I know, right? He thinks he's so incredible just because he happens to be good at volleyball… He wins a bunch of trophies in middle school and all of a sudden he's the goddamn king of the castle…" Rumi scowled bitterly as she agreed with Shibusawa's contempt towards their classmate. The word 'Castle' appeared on Takuto's phone.

"Candidate Found. Beginning Navigation." A robotic voice came from the chestnut haired boy's phone.

"What?" He uttered in confusion as he stopped in his tracks. Shibusawa and Rumi continued walking, not noticing Takuto no longer being beside them.

"Hm? You say something, Rumi?"

"Huh? That wasn't my voice… You really think I sound like that?"

"U-Uh… Guys? What happened to the sky?" Takuto awkwardly asked.

"Huh, what're you talking… about?" Shibusawa scoffed before staring up at the sky in disbelief. "Wha-? How'd it suddenly turn… pink?"

"Wh-Where did everybody else go?" Rumi anxiously asked as she glanced around their surroundings. That was when the boys realised that everything was silent. There was no one else in the area. But… The streets were full just seconds ago?

"U-Um… Am I going crazy or is that a castle over there?" Takuto enquired, pointing at the large building that most definitely wasn't there before.

"No… That is definitely a castle… Why is there a castle in Aoyama-itchome?" Rumi muttered as a nervous frown appeared on her. The three teenagers glanced at each other as curiosity finally got the better of them. They stuck closer together and wandered along the abandoned streets towards the ominous building.

"The hell?" Was all Shibusawa could utter as the trio stood in front of the castle. Takuto noticed a sign on the giant surrounding wall.

"This is Shujin Academy?" He asked with a confused tilt of his head.

"Hell no. I have no idea why that sign is there." Rumi rebutted.

"But… It is exactly where Shujin should be…" Shibusawa pointed out. Rumi frowned as she struggled to make sense of everything strange around them. As Takuto peered across the drawbridge into the castle courtyard, a butterfly caught his attention. A blue, glowing butterfly. It almost seemed to be… urging him to enter the castle… Although, he really didn't want to… Just the sight of it made his skin crawl for some reason.

"Welp… Only one way to figure it out." Shibusawa announced as he nonchalantly began wandering into the castle.

"H-Hey!" Takuto called out to him. The hell was he doing?! Did he feel no fear?! Takuto and Rumi glanced nervously at each other as they watched him disappear through the large entrance doors.

"W-We can't let him go by himself, right?!" Rumi asked, looking up at Takuto with panicked eyes.

"R-Right…! Stay close, Rumi." Takuto requested, offering his hand to his girlfriend. Rumi took it with no hesitation before the two jogged after Shibusawa. Luckily, he hadn't gone far. The raven haired boy was stood in the middle of the main entrance, looking around with a quizzical look on his face. For a split second, it seemed like the castle fazed out of reality, displaying a school entrance hall.

"Wh-What was that?" Takuto asked, feeling a little jumpy.

"Do you think this might be a way to get people hyped up for a school production?" Shibusawa hypothesised as he scratched the back of his head.

"Yeah… I really don't think the drama club would be able to pull off something like this…" Rumi muttered, rolling her eyes. The sound of metal clanking reached Takuto's ears. He twirled around to find a giant suit of armour approaching them. He couldn't help but let out a startled yelp. Shibusawa and Rumi turned to see what was wrong.

"Geez, dude! You freaked me out! What's with the costume? This some kinda medieval themed festival or somethin'?" The raven haired boy asked with a casual huff, walking over to the suit of armour to get a better look. The knight stayed silent as it took a menacing step forward. Shibusawa stepped back.

"Hey…"

Without any warning, the shadow lunged forward and slammed it's shield into Shibusawa's face, making him collapse onto the floor. He groaned as he clutched his head, dazed by the sudden strike.

"Shibusawa!" The other two gasped with worry. They wanted to rush over and help him, but more knights appeared and surrounded them. Takuto felt his heart pounding in his throat as he racked his brain for a solution to this insane situation. His body moved on instinct as he positioned himself between the intimidating knights and Rumi.

"S-Stay back!" He yelled, trying his hardest to stand his ground. The Knights didn't take any notice at all as one slammed their shield into his face. Takuto yelped as he fell back onto the floor, his nose spurting blood from the impact.

"Takuto!" Rumi shrieked as she tried to help him back onto his feet. Before she could even reach him, however, another knight rammed the hilt of it's sword into the back of her neck. The only noise she could make was a surprised grunt before she passed out.

"R-Rumi…" Takuto whispered, reaching out a shaky hand towards his girlfriend as his consciousness began to fade.

"...-To…. -Akuto… Takuto!"

Takuto groaned quietly as his eyes fluttered open. His head hurt and his vision was blurry.

"Hey! Can you hear us?!"

"Oh, thank god! He finally woke up!"

He heard Shibusawa and Rumi's worried voices.

"Wh-What…?" He muttered weakly as he sat up.

"Easy, dude… We all got messed up by those creepy guys in armour…" Shibusawa explained as he held the shaky Takuto up.

"When we woke up, we were in this weird jail cell… We've been looking for a way out but we haven't found anything yet…" Rumi added, slipping Takuto's glasses back onto his face. Now that he could see properly, Takuto analysed his surroundings. It was a dank, dingy prison cell with nothing but a bed, some chains and some barrels within it. The chestnut haired boy wiped the dried, crusted blood from his nose as he stood up from the uncomfortable wooden bed.

"What the hell is going on?" He finally asked the big question on his mind.

"I wish I knew…" Shibusawa huffed in response, a stressed scowl displayed on his face. A pained grimace consumed Takuto's face as he noticed the large bruises on Rumi's neck and Shibusawa's head. As he was about to ask if they were okay, a blood curdling scream echoed out from outside the jail cell. The trio stared out between the bars in terror.

"... What the hell was that?" Rumi whispered urgently.

"I-I don't know… but we need to get out of here." Takuto answered as he began inspecting each individual bar for any kind of weakness that would make it easier to break. His searching grew more frantic; he was desperate to escape. However, his search was cut short by a shadow looming over him. He cautiously looked up to find a knight glaring down at him. Takuto shuffled backwards, away from the frightening creature. Rumi softly patted his shoulder in an attempt to make him feel more relaxed.

"The three of you have been charged with trespassing. Thus, your sentence shall be death. The King has decreed that you shall be executed." One of the knights announced as a troop entered the jail cell.

"Executed?!" Takuto gasped as a nervous pang radiated through his chest.

"Hmph! What scum dares to enter my castle?" A haughty voice demanded.

"Your Majesty!" A knight exclaimed as the squad stepped to the side to let a person through.

They revealed a muscular boy around the same age as the group with glimmering golden eyes, wearing nothing but a plush heart patterned cloak, pink underwear, brown sneakers and a gaudy crown. Takuto couldn't help but cover Rumi's eyes so she wouldn't have to see the disgusting sight.

"Kamoshida?! What the hell are you doing?! And what in the actual fuck are you wearing?! Did a volleyball finally knock your brain out?!" Shibusawa growled, finally losing his temper after reaching his 'weird bullshit' limit. Kamoshida simply looked down on him with contempt in his eyes.

"Don't speak to me as if you're my equal, peasant." He spat in disgust as he signalled for his lackeys to move. One of the knights rammed it's fist into Shibusawa's stomach, making the raven haired boy double over and gasp for air as the impact winded him. The knight took advantage of his vulnerability, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him into the air.

"Leave him alone!" Takuto screeched as he charged towards the knight and tackled them. The suit of armour didn't budge a single inch. It swung it's free hand into Takuto's face, sending him flying backwards where two other knights grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him to the wall.

"You really thought that would work? Wow, you're dumber than you look, you worthless scum." Kamoshida snickered in amusement before turning his attention to Rumi.

"Hmm~? You're Rumi from Class 2-B, aren't you~? Did you finally come to your senses? What a smart lil girl~" He purred as a lustful look appeared in his eyes.

"Excuse me?" Rumi scoffed in disgust as she searched for a way to save the two boys.

"C'mon~ No need to deny yourself~ Feel free to fling yourself onto me~" Kamoshida smirked as he extended his arms for a hug, displaying his bare chest.

"Get away from me, you perv!" Rumi screamed as she swung her fist at his face, infuriated by his disgusting comments. Kamoshida caught her fist and pinned her arms above her head.

"Rumi!" Takuto gasped, desperately struggling against the strong hold detaining him.

"Oho~ You're a feisty one, huh~? You know, we could have a lot of fun together~" Kamoshida chuckled, finding Rumi's disgust entertaining as he leaned closer.

"Get the hell off her!" Screeched Takuto, a hateful glare in his eyes.

"Hm? Who are you to tell me what to do? This is my castle, I can do whatever the hell I want." Kamoshida scoffed dismissively as he shot a quick glance over to Takuto.

"Drop dead, asshole!" Shibusawa choked out, trying to kick himself free from the stranglehold he was stuck in.

"Hmm… Nah. I'd rather the opposite happen." Kamoshida snickered with a sadistic grin, snapping his fingers. The knight obeyed, pulling out it's sword and holding it up to Shibusawa's neck. The boy's chocolate coloured eyes widened in terror.

"I-I don't wanna die…!" He whimpered as his anger went flying out the window. Takuto's mind went into overload. Panic coursed through his veins. His best friend was about to be murdered! His girlfriend was cornered by an absolute creep! But he… He couldn't… He couldn't do a damn thing! A guilt ridden grimace enveloped Takuto's face as he held back tears. He really was useless…

"What's the matter?"

A mysterious voice spoke into Takuto's mind. The chestnut haired boy's eyes widened in shock as he swung his head from side to side in search of the source of the voice.

"Giving up before you've even tried? Only ruin awaits if you do nothing… Are your companions really not that precious to you?" The mysterious voice interrogated the shaken up boy. Takuto gritted his teeth as the idea of something terrible happening to the others made him feel sick.

"They are…!"

"Very well… Then I will lend you my strength."

Intense pain surged through Takuto's head, knocking all of the air out of his lungs as he screamed and writhed in agony.

"You seek the happiness and safety of those precious to you, but the only way to achieve that goal is to get your hands dirty… Show me your resolve! Prove to me that you can reform the world! I am thou, thou art I! Now is the time to set yourself free!"

Takuto let out a final cathartic scream as a golden mask appeared on his face and a pulse of power sent the shadows holding him flying backwards. The chestnut haired boy gasped for breath as he tapped the strange mask on his face. He grabbed it and attempted to pull it off. The mask didn't budge. Takuto began yanking harder on the mask, growing more and more agitated as it didn't budge. He needed it off! He needed to be free! Wait… Free…? Free… Yes, that was it… Freedom!

"Give me your power… Azathoth!"

The mask came flying off in his hands as blood spurted from his face. Blue flames erupted around him as everyone else watched in disbelief. Just what the hell is going on? As the flames began to dissipate, Takuto lunged forward, ramming his spear through the shadow that was holding Shibusawa. As he ripped it back out, the shadow disintegrated and his black haired best friend crashed into the floor, coughing and spluttering as he massaged his throat. With no delay, Takuto quickly moved onto saving Rumi, swinging his leg at full speed and slamming his foot into Kamoshida's face. As the 'King' collapsed on the floor, Takuto held his spear underneath his chin. Rumi stared at her boyfriend in amazement.

He was now wearing a pale blue dress shirt with a white waistcoat, trousers and cape, along with a golden tie, belt and shoes. Behind him floated a strange being. It looked like a golden cross with black and jade tendrils protruding outwards.

"How dare you attack King Kamoshida?!" The remaining knight demanded as it charged towards Takuto, sword in hand, ready to impale the boy.

"Takuto, look ou-" Shibusawa began to warn him but Azathoth acted first, sinking it's tendrils into the shadow and ripping it to shreds while Takuto didn't even bat an eyelid.

"Quick, grab the keys!" Takuto ordered Rumi. The redhead complied instantly, stealing the keys from Kamoshida and giving him a vicious kick in the stomach for good measure. Takuto pulled Shibusawa's arm over his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. The trio ran out of the cell, Rumi locking the door behind them before flinging the keys into the river. Azathoth watched the three teenagers run to their freedom and chuckled softly to itself as it disappeared.

"The Path to Eden has finally begun to open…"

#marukiweek2020 #takuto maruki #shibusawa #p5r shibusawa #rumi #p5r rumi #suguru kamoshida #azathoth #persona 5 royal #p5r spoilers #rui's writing

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its-pronounced-quoassoint · 4 years

Text

Power Rangers AU-Chapter 3

Pairings: romantic Logicality, Prinxiety, Demus, Remile

This Chapter Features: YouTuber!Patton, Patton centric story line

This Chapter Warnings: crying, angst, mentions of dead characters, reluctantcy, sympathetic Remus

Credit for this AU goes to @when-day-met-the-knight (specifically this post).

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic please let me know in reply!

First Previous Next

Chapter 3-Pink

Patton kept a diary. When he was younger he would stay up late at night, using pens to write in composition notebooks. Assigning different colors to different days of the week, doodling in the margins, dating every page in the top right corner, and taking time to think of a title for each day. At the bottom of every page Patton would rate how well the day was on a scale of one to five and doodle a little face that showed how he felt.

Keeping a diary was one of the few constants in Patton's life. After so much change and heartbreak, holding on to something, as silly as diary keeping, made Patton’s time a little more enjoyable.

When he received his first phone, Patton decided that a digital diary would be more convenient. He downloaded a simple note taking app, and began writing about his day there.

The advantage to a digital diary was he could write wherever he wanted. Patton sat on the bus to school, typing fervently. It was their first day back since the last attack and he had not gotten enough homework done as he would have liked. Patton was letting out some feelings onto his phone and listening to the chatter of the kids around him.

Patton is very aware of the fact that many of them were staring at him in awe. Especially the middle schoolers. Typically his audience on YouTube was middle schoolers. He knew having a few million subscribers got him attention and Patton had accepted that attention as part of his everyday life. It meant nothing to him now. A sort of bitter exchange. He didn’t feel the nervousness he used to when people approached him for pictures. The right feelings he got when young minds randomly appeared next to him and wanted to ask about being a YouTuber. However, that also meant he didn’t get the rush of happiness when some small kid praised or thanked him. He didn’t really feel that delighted feeling of pride anymore.

Patton typed on his phone until the bus pulled up to the high school. Patton stepped off the bus after almost tripping over several small kids in the bus isle. He began rolling up to the school, warm humid air hitting him. It had rained horribly the day before and him, along with several other fluffy haired people, were feeling the affects.

Patton opened the doors for a few high schoolers behind him and walked in. Heading for his locker immediately. After gathering his things Patton began taking his bag to his first hour.

“Hey Pat.” The familiar voice of Naomi, one of his close friends, greeted him.

“Hey Mi.” Patton smiled at her, moving a little in the hall so she could walk next to him.

“How was break?”

“Ugh, did not get any homework for Leed’s class done.” Patton rolled his eyes. “But, ya know, got some editing finished.”

“Well, I don’t think the teachers honesty expect us to have gotten anything done.” Naomi tried to soothe him.

“Yeah.” Patton sighed. They stepped into their shared first hour and continued to talk. A few more friends walked in and began talking with them, but Patton dropped away from them quickly.

He never felt particularly attached to the people in his school. It was hit or miss with people you talked to. Patton was very aware of his social standing as ‘the most popular person in high school’, but he attributed that to his YouTube channel’s success. It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. He certainly had people wanting to be his friend. However, it was never the type of connection that Patton would see on tv. No best friend sleepovers, skipping class together, eating cookies late at night while watching Netflix. Patton wasn’t proud of the fact that he didn’t have a close friend like that, but he figured he should take what he gets.

Besides, he still had friends.

Lunch was an easy time for Patton. He typically sat with Naomi in the library. Sure that’s not what one would expect from a popular socialite like Patton, but the cafeteria was simply too loud. Hectic and scary were adjectives Patton often described lunch as. He didn’t eat much at lunch either. He never really ate much. There wasn’t a lot of time to eat.

Patton often spent his time listening to his friends’ problems, studying, doing something for the array of clubs he was in, or editing for YouTube. There wasn’t much time for anything else, but that was okay. Patton enjoyed doing all of those-besides studying-so it wasn’t like he missed anything. There was nothing to miss when he didn’t know of much else he could do.

Mondays were usually not the favorite day of the week for any student, never mind any person. However, they were Patton’s favorite. Why? Well, Mondays after school, Patton got to go down to the freshman biology teacher’s room and run the QSA at his school. He loved the QSA. He had been going since 8th grade, when he couldn’t technically go because he wasn’t in high school.

However, he dedicated a lot of time to the QSA and had become the president of the club in junior year. He was elated to be in it and was able to get together a team to spread the word about it and set up fun activities. It was one of the only things about school that Patton documented in his YouTube videos.

Patton didn’t like to talk about school too much for fear of it interfering with him graduating, but he was able to take videos of everything that happened with QSA. Much to the delight of his viewers.

Patton sat anxiously in 6th hour, awaiting the final bell that meant he could head down to the club room. Sadly though, sixth hour was just getting under way, so he would have to wait.

“Welcome back to sixth hour!” Patton’s calc teacher, Mrs. Ryans began. “I know school only had been a few weeks in when the attacks hit, and it essentially feels like the next semester, but we’ll be doing a small project!”

The class cheered a little. Projects for her class were typically easier than usual class work. She would often pair up students to work on it together, making it all the easier on Patton. Usually Mrs. Ryans paired Patton with Logan, who was more than happy to help Patton on the project. Patton loved partnering with Logan, he was understanding of Patton’s schedule and never got frustrated with Patton’s inability to meet in order to work on the project. Though Patton had heard he was quite the opposite with other partners in different classes.

“So, I didn’t really have the time nor the care to make a list of partners, so, your table partners will do for this.” Mrs. Ryans sighed.

Patton met Logan’s eye with a disappointed look and shrugged. Logan returned the sentiment before looking toward Remus next to him. Logan smacked the snickering idiot.

Patton turned to his table partner Dee and gave him a warm smile that was met with a side smile, reserved for Patton alone.

“Donnie can you pass out the papers?” Mrs. Ryans asked.

“Sure!” Donnie smiled and stood, grabbing the stack of papers that explained the assignment.

“Mrs. Ryans! Dee and I need to be partners.” Kayley Holt said a few rows behind Patton.

“Uh, no.” Mrs. Ryans trailed off giving Kayley a questioning look.

“But we have to be. We have co-dependency anxiety and we’re both super anxious without each other! We have to be partners.” Kayley demanded.

Patton looked over to Dee who held a blank expression rivaling Lady Gaga’s ‘poker face’. Patton could tell he was not happy with the arrangement Kayley was trying to pull.

“You know what Kayley, I know you’re lying to me about this so don’t even try and pull this stunt again, but fine, you and Dee can be partners. Just don’t whine when you two both get Cs on the assignment cause you didn’t work.” Mrs. Ryans pointed at Kayley. Then pointed at her table partner. “Roman, you’ll pair with Patton.”

Patton smiled over at Roman who dramatically smiled back.

“This will be due on Friday and I expect it typed, nothing handwritten! Heck knows you people write in hieroglyphics.” Mrs. Ryans dismissively waved her hand. “You will have Thursday in class to work on it if you need but if you don’t you can just have this as a free hour.”

Patton received the paper and began reading over the project. Dee and Roman switched places and the two dove into the work. Dividing it between themselves and scheduling times to meet to work on it.

“Are you free tonight after QSA?” Roman asked.

“Yeah, you?”

“Mhm. I don’t think Logan or Remus have anything going on either. We can all kinda work on it together at my place.” Roman turned to where Logan and Remus sat across the room. “Logan! Remus! Come here.”

Logan and Remus turned to Roman who was waving them over enthusiastically. The two look at each other before Logan shrugged and began walking their way. Logan and Remus sat down across from Patton and Roman, the four began talking about going to the twins’ home after QSA to work on the project.

“Well what am I supposed to do while you three are in your club?” Remus asked

“You can come if you want. We’re doing some stuff for the underclassmen for homecoming.” Patton told Remus.

“I though they called off Homecoming.” Roman looked at Pat.

“Well, they did,” Patton trailed off. “but the freshmen on the QSA group chat were so upset, I mean I couldn’t let them be so disappointed.”

“What did you do? Pay ‘em off?” Remus whispered.

“What?! No!” Patton whispered back. Not fully knowing why he was whispering, so he stopped. “I just argued to the superintendent that they deserved a Homecoming.”

“How? He never changes his mind.” Roman smiled.

“Well, I mean, I’m good at convincing people, I guess.” Patton shrugged. “But yeah, homecoming is back on.”

“None of us go to homecoming though.” Roman pointed out.

“Yeah, but the freshmen and sophomores like going and some juniors go and I know I don’t have time to go, but they deserve some fun. The town’s ten pm curfew doesn’t exactly give any kids the chance to hang out with their friends like normal teenagers.” Patton explained.

“Well, it’s nice for you to do something for them. Having experiences with their friends, like homecoming, will make it all the easier to deal the trauma of the attacks.” Logan finally said.

“Thank you Logan.” Patton nodded. “Now, is that all settled. We just head to your place after QSA?”

“Yep.” Roman nodded.

Patton smiled at him and began texting his foster mother the plan. Class ended a while after that and the four began their walk to the science wing of the school. Heading to Mr. Travis’s-the QSA faculty advisor-room. The room was already full of kids from every grade. Eager freshmen were talking nervously to their friends while the other two seniors looked around commenting on how they were used to it by now.

“Hey guys!” Patton said as he entered.

“Patton!” Jana, a sophomore, squeaked when he entered. “I passed the project!”

“I knew you would! You’ve gotta stop doubting yourself.” Patton congratulated her.

“I know, I know.” She giggled. “Camera?” Jana put out her hands expectantly.

“Here!” Patton walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out the camera he used for filiming. He handed it to Jana who giddily heded over to tripod and began setting up eqquipment. "Okay everyone, before I begin with what we're doing today can we set up the tables into one long table?"

The group got up from their chairs, still chatting, and began arranging the tables the way Patton had asked. Once done helping, Patton walked to the 'head' of their make-shift table and sat down. Jana started up the cameras and sound and Patton began.

"Homecoming is back on, which means another year of having to find a date, dress nice, and so on. So, what I’ve decided to do, is spend this week, next week, and however much longer making flower crowns.” Patton announced. “I know it’s a little childish, but pride flag flower crowns are so much fun to make and afterward you get really good at them”

“I love it.” Cami, one of the juniors said.

“Thanks Cami.” Patton smiled. “Make some for yourself, make some for our friends, make pride flag ones, make any color ones, doesn’t matter, just use all the flowers. I printed out a bunch of instructions on different types of crowns and other jewelry you can make with the flowers. Just have fun with it!”

Mr. Travis entered the room with loads of flowers in his hand and his daughter trailing behind, also carrying many flowers.

“Here we are.” He grunted, setting them down.

“Thanks Mr. Travis.” Patton smiled. “Let’s get started!”

The club dispersed into groups and began making crowns, chatting with their friends, and goofing around. Patton was pulled over to a group of sophomores and freshmen who wanted to talk.

He looked over to see Logan, Roman, and Remus talking quietly while making the crowns. Patton smiled, even Remus was making a pride flag flower crown.

After some time he walked over to Logan, Roman, and Remus. The three stopped talking quickly and focused a little too intensely on the flower crowns.

QSA ended far too quickly for Patton’s liking, but he and the three others left for Roman’s house soon. They talked the whole way, mainly Remus, and were very quickly entering the home.

Patton and Roman went to the living room and lazily began talking about the project. Logan and Remus went to the dining room and Logan attempted to make progress while Remus threw Cheetos in the air and tried to catch them in his mouth.

Patton looked around the house. It was huge. Large eggshell white walls and intimidating furnishings. It barely looked lived in.

“Hey Roman,” Patton started, “can you point me to the bathroom?”

“Yeah sure, the closest one is just down that hallway.” Roman pointed to a dark hallway. “I’m pretty sure it’s on the right. You’ll find it.”

“Thanks.” Patton smiled.

He got up and headed that way, not quite sure what he was doing. He didn’t need to go to the bathroom, but something about the house felt so familiar. He had to find out why. Why did being in the home feel off yet inviting. It didn’t make any sense. Patton has always been good at feelings. Knowing what they are in him and observing them in others. This though, this was different.

Patton walked down the hallway toward a door, feeling the pull even more intensely. Every step was pulling him forward. Why was it so familiar?

Patton opened the door and stepped into an extremely dark room. Patton’s eyes could barely adjust. Without realizing it he had entered the room and was running his hand along the objects in the room. The feeling grew to an overwhelming point and Patton tried to pull away and go back to the living room, but to no avail. Then something grabbed him. It wrapped around his wrist and tightened into a perfect fit. Patton was finally able to pull his hand back and looked at the thing on his wrist.

A bracelet. Glowing pink and swirling around his wrist.

Patton screamed.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Patton continued. He just stared at the bracelet in horror trying to get it off him as fast as possible.

Patton distantly heard Logan call his name. Pounding footsteps headed his way and the lights around him were flipped on.

Patton barely noticed, he just focused on tearing the bracelet off of him.

“Patton?!” Logan yelled for his attention.

“Get it off, get it off, oh please just get this thing off of me.” Patton cried out.

“What?” Roman started, but stopped when Patton turned and showed them the bracelet. “Oh.”

“Please just get it off, please, please,” Patton suddenly stopped, staring at Remus. “You-you’re-“

“Remus!“ Roman chided, noticing the mace he had in his hand.

“What? We didn’t know why Patton was screaming! It could have been a minion.”

“Jeez Remus.” Roman shook his head.

“You’re the Green Ranger?” Patton asked shakily. “Which one are you Logan?”

“I-uh blue.” Logan hurried out an answer.

“Logan! You can’t just tell every pretty boy you’re the Blue Ranger!” Roman smacked Logan on the shoulder.

“I’m not!” Logan’s face turned a bright red.

“Oh this is a disaster.” Roman sighed.

“I know.” Logan looked away.

“Look, I don’t care! I won’t tell anyone, I promise! You can trust me! Just please get this off of me! I don’t want to be a Ranger please!” Patton begged.

“Patton-“

“Can you take this off or not?” Patton asked, tears welling in his eyes.

“I-uh-no.” Logan stuttered. “We don’t know how.”

“Fine.” Patton stood and looked at Roman. His expression hard as tears began falling ever so slightly. “I need to borrow your car.”

“What?” Roman asked startled.

“I need to borrow your car, drive to Thomas, and get him to pull this horrible thing off my wrist.” Patton said, his voice steady.

“Patton we-“

“Please.” Patton broke down into a quiet sob. “Please just let me-“

“We’ll drive you. It’s unsafe to drive when you’re upset like this.” Logan said quickly. “Roman let’s go.”

“Ok-okay.” Roman turned and headed out of the room.

The four quickly ran out of the house and into a car. Roman started it up and began driving. Remus sat quietly in the passenger seat, looking at Patton nervously. Logan and Patton sat in the back, Patton silently crying into Logan’s chest. Logan wrapped an arm around Patton’s shoulders, holding him soothingly.

They pulled up to Thomas’s house and frantically ran to the front door.

“Thomas! Thomas! We need you open up!” Roman knocked on the door loudly.

The door swung open and a little kid stood there worried. “What’s going on?”

“Emile! Where’s your dad?” Roman asked frantically.

“Coming coming! What is it?! Is someone hurt! What happened?” Thomas asked. He looked at the four.

Remus and Roman stood awkwardly on the small porch. And a little ways behind them, Logan held a crying Patton.

“Wha-“ Thomas stopped himself. “Patton?”

“Thomas!!” Patton pulled away from Logan and raced to Thomas. He fell into Thomas’s arms and sobbed harder.

“Oh Pat. It’s okay I-I know.” Thomas tried soothing him. “Come on lets all go inside.”

Thomas led the four inside. Patton collapsed on the couch and looked around, drying his tears.

“Thomas, get it off of me.” Patton started shakily.

“Patton, you know that’s not how it works.”

“I don’t care. It needs to come off. I’m not breaking my last promise with Talyn. I won’t do it.” Patton shook his head. Once again grabbing at the bracelet and trying to pull it off.

Emile put a hand on Patton’s bracelet to stop him from tanking at it.

“Patton, you know Talyn would be proud of you no matter what. They knew that it wasn’t a choice you got to make. You were chosen. They would be so proud to know you’re the next Pink Ranger.” Thomas smiled.

“No!” Patton’s tears started up yet again. “I promised! I said I would never! I told them I would never become a Ranger. It’s dangerous and heartbreaking and it tore Talyn away from me! It took Joan and Talyn from me! It took them both and it almost took you!”

“Patton, I know.” Thomas sighed, stepping closer to Patton who only pulled away.

Roman, Remus, and Logan stood in the kitchen eyeing the scene and trying to understand whatever was going on.

“I can’t do this. I won’t do this.” Patton stated firmly.

“Patton, don’t you remember when you were younger and all you wanted to be was a Ranger? You were so excited to be everything Talyn was and more.”

“I was young. And stupid. And I still am. I’m not ready for this. Talyn didn’t want this.”

“Talyn knew that this would happen. They knew you would be Ranger. It was simply your destiny. You know that. We all knew that.” Thomas sighed. “Talyn just didn’t want you to feel pressured. Talyn knew the risks and didn’t want you to go through the pain.”

“If it weren’t for the morphers, Talyn, and Joan, and Valerie, and Terrence, and Dominic would all still be here! You wouldn’t have been the only Ranger for the past ten years! You wouldn’t be doing this on your own.” Patton cried.

“Pat-“

“Thomas, please just get it off of me.” Patton held out his wrist to Thomas. “Please. I can’t do this, please.”

"Patton. I-I-"

"Pat, please." Emile took Patton's jaw in his hand. "I know it hurts, but think about what you're doing. You know you can't take it off. Once it's on you, you can't just take the morpher off. It's there and there's nothing you can do. So, what you need to do, is live up to that amazing loving person the morpher chose. The morpher chose you because you bring heart and care and compassion to the team. You're made for this role and I know you can do it. Though you may not feel it now, it's still there."

"Emile-“

“When we were so much younger do you remember pretending to be Rangers together. You were always the brave Pink Ranger, swooping in your save me from the Dragon Witch. You just wanted to help me. You’ve always wanted to be a Ranger and you’ve always wanted to help people. Please don’t give up on that. You know for a fact Talyn only said that to try and keep you safe. No matter what you’ve promised them, or Joan, or Megan, you want to do this.” Emile stopped him. “You don’t have to be afraid. You’ve got a team by your side.”

They sat in silence. Patton’s tears had dried on his face and he desperately tried to talk but found no sound coming out. His chest heaved and ached. Patton could only squeeze Emile’s hand in his and sniffle.

“I’m sorry.” Patton squeaked. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. Pat of course you’d feel this way. No one expects you to immediately want to be a Ranger. Especially after what happened with Talyn. No one blames you for feeling this way.” Thomas assured him.

“Thank you, I-I know. I know it’s okay. It just still doesn’t feel that way. It doesn’t feel-feel-feel-“

“I’m sure it doesn’t. But it’s okay.” Emile whispered.

Patton collapsed into Emile, just crying into the smaller boy. “It hurts so bad.”

Emile nodded and ran a soothing hand through Patton’s hair. As Patton continued trying to control his sobbing he felt more arms wrap around him. He shifted to see Roman, Remus, and Logan holding him gently, too gently. It was like they though one squeeze would break Patton in half.

“You’re going to be the best Pink Ranger to ever fight.” Roman told him.

“Thank you I-I’m okay.” Patton smiled sweetly at the boys hugging him.

They pulled away, but stayed close.

“I’m going to be okay.” Patton said a little shakily but calm.

I’m ready. Patton wrote late that night in his diary. I’m going to be okay.

Taglist:

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors@maddarc@pheonix-inside-reblogs@thisismysanderssidesblog@almost-all-my-ships-are-gay@mostpeopleannoyme@the-smol-est@i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake@nadja-chamack16@too-bi-too-function

#patton sanders #YouTuber!Patton #power rangers au #thatsthat24 #logicality #prinxiety #demus #remile

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unending-happiness · 4 years

Note

Hi, I've got a question out of nowhere! I was looking to re-read a story And When You Soar that was on my AO3 bookmark list and it's apparently not there anymore! I think it was your story? Can I ask what happened to it? If it's indeed the story I remember, I loved it!

Hi! Oh wow. It’s definitely my story! I’m smiling so big because you want to reread it. So…..as for what happened to it, I got a little overwhelmed with all my responsibilities in real life and how little time I had for writing. All my wips just felt like a heavy weight on my shoulders, because no matter how much I wanted to finish them I just didn’t think I’d ever have time. And I also felt so guilty about leaving them for so long without updates and letting readers down. So, I deleted all my wips from AO3 and vowed to only post them again when they were complete on my end (except for editing) and I could update them on a regular schedule. And When You Soar was supposed to be a relatively quick story, but then, as stories do, it took on a life of it’s own and there ended up being way more to it than I originally thought, so it got pulled too.

I’m actually in the middle of writing a long one-shot right now that’s fairly close to being sent to my beta. I don’t know what’s wrong with my writing brain right now, but I get huge bursts of inspiration for something new, then it fades, and rinse and repeat. Super unhelpful.

Now, the good news is, I’ve found myself at the very beginning of a period of being off work and quarantined at home because of this delightful pandemic we’re all experiencing, so I’m going to attack my wips with intensity and AWYS has a very good chance of getting finished soon and back up on ao3. Honestly, thank you so much for this ask because I wasn’t sure what wip from my list to work on after the one I’m finishing now, and you’ve made the decision easy for me. Thank you so much, lovely human! To hold you over until I post it again………

And When You Soar-Chapter 1

Alec ducked his head and stepped through the door and into the plane. He stopped when the elderly woman in front of him came to a standstill and looked around, transferring his suitcase to his other hand. He acknowledged the flight attendant standing to his left with his usual tight smile.

“Welcome aboard,” she greeted him, flashing him a bigger smile of her own.

“Thanks,” Alec answered her before his attention shifted to the open door just past her. A tall pilot standing just inside the flight cabin nodded at him and then turned his attention to who Alec assumed was his co-pilot. Always curious, Alec leaned to the side to see more of the other pilot, but his view into the small space was almost completely obstructed by the large man

“Sir,” the woman said to get his attention again.

He looked over at her and saw that she was motioning for him to move along into the cabin. He realized that the people in front of him had moved forward and he was holding up the line.

“Sorry,” he whispered, as if talking at a normal volume would cause further disturbance.

She just smiled at him sweetly again, and then turned her attention to whoever was behind him. Alec shifted his suitcase so that he could fit down the aisle, and focussed on finding his seat without taking out the tiny woman in front of him. He located his row near the back of the plane and saw that his seatmates hadn’t yet boarded, so he quickly stowed his bag in the overhead compartment and sat down in the aisle seat.

Normally, Alec loved being tall. He never needed a step stool, he had always been chosen first for basketball teams in high-school gym class, and he could see over everyone’s head in a crowd. It also made intimidating people fairly effortless, not that he would ever admit that out loud. Being tall was almost always a perk, but he found that flights were one of the few glaring exceptions.

He always sprang for first class when he had to be on a plane for more than a few hours, but his sister’s last-minute plans had him booking the only available seat on the only available flight that would fit into his demanding schedule. He barely had time to get a workout in and grab a quick shower before his Uber pulled up. He was feeling very lucky that he at least got an aisle seat, and even so, there simply wasn’t going to be a position that would make his legs happy. It was going to be a long night and his only hope would be to fall asleep, which was unlikely, as he found it especially difficult to do in crowded places.

He grabbed his phone and earbuds out of his backpack and put it under the seat in front of him, barely leaving enough room to squeeze his black Nikes in there. When he glanced back up, he could see that there was a young man and woman waiting patiently for him to get up so they could take the seats next to him. He quickly stood and moved to the side. The man eyed him up and down suspiciously and then quickly changed positions with who Alec could only assume was his girlfriend so that he would be sitting next to Alec instead of her. Alec barely contained an eye roll. Heterosexuals. He gave them plenty of space while they got settled and then gingerly lowered himself back into his seat, already regretting going so hard in the gym that morning as his thighs still protested from yesterday’s workout. He would feel it doubly tomorrow.

He went through the process of checking and returning messages on his phone. He handled a few work emails and then touched base with his family. He answered a text from Izzy.

Did you make your flight?

Barely

That’s the spirit. See you soon. 😘

If by “soon” you mean in 9 hours, then yes, that.

Grouchy…..You got stuck in economy again didn’t you? Such a diva.

Next time you come up with some grand scheme, I’m going to need you to think of my legs.

Promise, but I’m sure you could use your powers of persuasion to get yourself into first class. 😎😍

You’re confusing me with you, again

Oh, Alec. Try not to have too much fun.😂 We’ll pick you up at the airport.

Hey, I know how to have fun.

And by “we”, do you mean…..

Simon and I. I wouldn’t bring mom or dad. I’m not that mean.☹️

I have plenty of scars that suggest otherwise, but I’ll see you in 9 short hours.

Love you, big brother

Love you, too.

The perky flight attendant had started her safety speech, which was thankfully straight to the point and not one of those lame ones trying to make everyone laugh. Alec fastened his seatbelt across his black joggers and logged into the airline’s Wi-Fi. He put his phone on airplane mode as soon as he was connected. He glanced over at his seatmates to see the man was huddled up next to his companion and they were chatting quietly and giggling. He didn’t think he had to worry about them trying to talk to him, but he stuck a wireless earbud in that ear anyway just to be sure. He scanned the rest of the passengers within view of him and tried to settle comfortably in his seat when he decided that everything was as it should be.

The pilot he had seen when he boarded the plane came out a few moments later and did the standard pre-flight announcement. Captain Garroway had a deep and booming voice, so Alec clearly heard the weather and their destination all the way from his seat in the back of the plane.

He busied himself with scrolling through his playlist to distract himself during take off. He wasn’t a nervous flyer, but the knowledge that nearly all plane crashes happened during ascent and descent kept him from really relaxing until they were fully up in the air. Being out of control in any situation went against every fiber of his being, and he just had to work through it. He spread his legs a little, pushing his knees all the way against the seatback in front of him, praying that the person wouldn’t want to recline their seat. He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes.

The plane had just hit cruise height, the most nerve wracking part over, and he was listening to a conversation between a mother and child in front of him when his phone buzzed in his lap.

Alec swiped down his notifications and pulled his eyebrows together when he saw what app the push notification had come from. Of all times to get a message from someone on Grindr, this one had to be the weirdest. He hadn’t even had an account for twenty-four hours yet, only having downloaded it late the night before out of boredom. His sister had joked recently that he needed to “Meet someone on Grindr or something to let off some steam”, and despite everything in his being telling him he wouldn’t be happy with such a thing, he had done it anyway. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had listened to her, because he had no interest in hooking up with a random guy just because he was within so many feet of him. There was actually someone he had something really casual with, but it had been a while since he’d seen him. So, he could probably chalk this horrible lapse in decision making up to being frustrated and horny. Still, he had no intention of using the app, not really.

He thought about dismissing the message without reading it, almost laughing at the thought of having sex with some random stranger in the tiny plane bathroom, when it hit him that the message actually had to be from someone currently on the plane with him. That thought had him sitting up straighter and looking around him as inconspicuous as possible. He didn’t see anyone staring at him, but still, like the truly paranoid person he was, he turned down the brightness on his screen so the people around him would be less likely to see what he was doing. Hesitantly, he opened the message.

It was from someone called “CoyNotCryptic” and the icon wasn’t a person, but instead was an aerial photo of a city he didn’t recognize. Oh-kayyy, that wasn’t going to tell him anything. He looked around the cabin again and then read the message.

I see you’re on my flight. Enjoy the ride to Rome.

Alec stared at the words in disbelief. What are the chances? He quickly tried to figure out who this mystery messenger could be. A fellow passenger? The app informed him that it was someone ninety feet away, which would have to be someone toward the front of the plane. A passenger in first class maybe? Alec looked up at the flight attendants suspiciously. Both were women and he didn’t see a third, but that didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t another one there. First class sometimes had their own attendant. Thoroughly flustered, he turned off his screen and laid it face down in his lap again, still eyeing the people around him and the front of the cabin.

He made it an impressive five minutes before he unlocked his phone and pulled up the message thread. He clicked on the mystery person’s profile.

All he learned from that was that the guy was 3O ish years old, 5’11”, 175lbs, Bi, and Single. Seemed intriguing enough, but a picture definitely would have been extremely helpful. Fucking Grindr. This was why he didn’t want to mess with it in the first place. He wasn’t going to answer it. Absolutely not. What would he even say? What if the person was a total creep and it was a disaster for the entire eight-hour flight?

Just a few minutes later, bored and antsy, he decided that it was going to bother him if he didn’t at least find out who it was. Oh, what the hell , he thought, and typed out a message.

The chances of this happening have to be a million to one, right?

He tapped his foot nervously while he waited the fifteen seconds for an answer to come.

I’m not privy to the exact statistics, but it doesn’t happen very often, in my professional experience. Does this mean you’re one in a million?

Alec swallowed a laugh. The wording of the message made him feel more like it was someone working on the flight. That was probably less risky than a random passenger. More than a little intrigued, he typed a reply.

By that logic, you would be one in a million, also.

Oh, I definitely am.

How self-aware of you.

Self-aware and humble.

And….working right now??

Yes, although it doesn’t feel like work at the moment.

Because I’m distracting you?

Don’t get ahead of yourself. It could be the 40-ton jet I’m flying. -MB

Alec nearly dropped his damn phone and he was ninety percent sure he said, “No way,” out loud instead of in his head. The pilot!! The pilot was messaging him on Grindr. What the actual hell had Izzy gotten him into?! He had the passing thought that maybe it was somebody else on the plane fucking with him, and he looked around for about the tenth time. And MB? Most definitely not the initials of Garroway, the pilot he saw before. Must’ve been the pilot he hadn’t been able to get a good look at when he boarded.

He didn’t have time to go too far down that rabbit hole of thought, because just then a voice filled the cabin. This one was very different than Captain Garroway’s and it got Alec’s full attention, to say the least.

“Good evening, lovely passengers, this is Captain Bane speaking.”

This voice sent a shiver down his spine and made every nerve ending wake up and take notice. It was a voice of pure silk that made Alec think of skin on skin, of dark passionate nights, of hushed whispers between sloppy kisses.

He was absolutely reeling at the realization that “MB” from Grindr was also Captain Bane, the pilot of this airplane, a man whose voice alone stimulated every cell in Alec’s body. He was thoroughly fucked for the duration of this flight and he couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad about it.

“We are now cruising along at an altitude of 30,000 feet. You may use any larger electronic devices you have at this time, on airplane mode, of course. I’m very good at what I do, but I’d prefer a smooth and easy ride tonight.”

Alec pursed his lips to contain his disbelieving laugh, his eyes wide.

“Please also feel free to take your seatbelt off if you need to move around the cabin, but be sure to put it back on anytime you’re in your seat. This is just a precaution in case of unexpected turbulence, or in the event I jerk my stick a little too hard.”

The passengers around him chuckled at the joke, but Alec thought that there was no possible way in hell any of them could be as affected by those words as he was. This was an unbelievable turn of events.

“My darling flight attendants will be doing drink service soon, and I’d like to ask you to be patient and enjoy whatever quenches your thirst. Please exercise self-control, though, as this is a long flight for all of us. Also, just a reminder that any long arms or long legs that are taking up aisle space, are most definitely at risk of being taken out by Clary and her cart, and need to be tucked safely in your seat. Thank you very much and enjoy the ride to Rome.”

This man. Holy. Fucking. Shit. He needed a drink from Clary and her cart ASAP.

He stared at his phone and that last message. It was clearly his move now, and considering how buzzed he was from the announcements alone, he wanted to make it a good one. He decided he very much wanted to play this game.

Aren’t there rules about texting and flying?

You are in very capable hands. I wasn’t joking when I said I’m good at what I do.

In all seriousness though, my co-pilot is doing all the heavy lifting at the moment, but if this makes you nervous, I’ll stop. I like to keep my customers happy.

Don’t stop.

I’m not worried.

Good. Tell me something?

Ask away.

What takes you to Rome?

My little sister’s impromptu wedding.

Scandalous. Have you met her other half?

Oh, yeah. They’ve been together for a while. The engagement isn’t that surprising, and, really, the quick wedding isn’t either if you know my family. She’s avoiding a lot of drama. I can’t really blame her.

Ah, family drama, ever delightful.

Unfortunately there’s no shortage of it with mine.

How long are you staying in Rome for the wedding?

Just a few days.

It’s an absolutely beautiful city. I can make some recommendations if you’d like……

That would be great.

Perky red rolled up to him with her cart, pulling his focus away from the conversation. He reluctantly placed the phone face down on his tray and tried to not look impatient as he got his wallet with his card out of his bag. She asked the couple next to him what they wanted, and Alec dutifully passed a soda and a red wine over. She ignored his debit card and poured a whiskey on the rocks, probably the most expensive they had on board, and handed it over to him. His confusion must have shown on his face because she winked at him and pointed to the front of the plane. It took a couple seconds for him to get it and then he glanced to his side to be sure the people next to him weren’t paying attention.

“Oh, uh, thanks,“ he whispered, and immediately felt like a moron.

“No problem. If you need anything else at all, just let me know. I’ll be back around for meal orders in just a little bit.”

Alec took a big sip of his drink. It was easily twice the size of the drinks you normally received on a plane and he felt a little guilty that he hadn’t even paid for it. He resisted the urge to look around and see if anyone had noticed his special treatment.

He checked his phone as soon as he felt relaxed from the warmth that had burned its way down his chest. There were no new messages, but he decided that sending him a drink was a pretty loud and clear message of its own and he started typing.

So, now you are flying a plane, texting, AND buying me a drink?! Show off.

Is that a thank you?

Of course. How did you even know where I was sitting?

Well, you see, there are these things called ‘Flight Manifests’ and pilots receive one for every flight. Although I must admit I’ve never found one quite as useful as I do now.

By the way, who uses their real name for a Grindr profile??

People who want their pilots to send them free booze.

Ah. Well, your grand scheme is working out quite nicely then, I’d say.

Seriously though, thank you for the drink.

You’re most welcome, Alexander. (So useful, that manifest)

Nobody calls me that except for my mother when she’s angry with me.

Would you rather I not?

No….you can.

Good, because I’m fond of it.

Speaking of things I’m fond of, Clary tells me that your "longest legs ever” have no business at all being in coach.

Ah, well, you can blame my sister and her last minute plans for that.

Wait, do you have everyone spying on me?!

Not everyone, just Clary, I suppose. Though, to be fair, she mentioned your legs before I had her bring you a drink. Seems “tall, dark, and handsome” appeals to all genders.

I’m going to need more alcohol if you’re going to keep saying things like that.

I’ll let Clary know the gorgeous man with mile long legs in C36 needs another drink soon.

I’m actually blushing.

I’d give my Louis luggage to see that for myself.

I don’t do selfies.

Really? Not even for the man who tried to get you a seat in First class?

It was all booked. I checked.

Yes, it is. But I tried to offer someone top shelf alcohol for the duration of the flight to switch with you.

YOU DIDN’T. Please tell me you didn’t.

Doesn’t matter. It didn’t work anyway. Please pass my apologies onto your legs.

No.

No?

No. If you have a message for my legs, you’ll have to deliver it yourself.

Do you really think it’s wise to cause a rise in the heart rate of the pilot who is flying your plane?

My bad. Pass my apologies onto your heart?

If I have to deliver messages in person, then you do as well.

Can you put the pedal to the floor? Get us on the ground any faster?

Do you know anything at all about airplanes?

No, but you could teach me.

With pleasure.

Lkkdfskhdkhsdfkhd.

Did he really send a keysmash? He did. He did that, as eloquent as ever. Slightly mortified, he waited to be teased for it. When no message came through, he checked his Wi-Fi connection, then his watch, and finally scrolled through his playlist and chose some music, trying to busy himself with something other than shamelessly flirting with the man currently keeping them alive way above the surface of the earth. He was probably very busy at the moment and Alec had to get a grip, especially since they were only an hour and a half into the flight.

By the time the dinner cart went through an hour later, Alec had returned a few more emails, done his budget for the month, organized all the photos in his gallery, and archived all the files on his phone that he didn’t need anymore. He also might have checked Grindr for new messages about twenty times, so he was more than a little ready for that second drink.

This time the other attendant came through, the one with the darker skin and curly hair. She was just as helpful and nice as Clary, but much less hyper, and Alec found that she had a way about her that he liked. With a knowing smile she served him up the same drink as before. She didn’t even try to tell him where it came from, which he appreciated, because at this point he was more than a little self conscious that the entire staff seemed to know the pilot was sending him things.

She took his dinner order and returned twenty minutes later with what could only amount to two standard airline meals and yet another glass of amber liquid. This one was smaller and accompanied by a bottle of water. He didn’t miss how she took his credit card and made herself look busy, before handing it back without actually swiping it. He gave her a genuine smile, very much appreciating her discretion and she patted his shoulder as she went by.

He usually didn’t like to be touched by people, let alone strangers, reserving his physical affection for his family alone. Maybe it was the alcohol warming his veins or the fact that he was currently being lavished with gifts, but he found that the small touch made him happy.

Eventually, he was relaxed enough that he felt like he may actually be able to sleep, but he still declined a pillow and blanket when they came through passing them out to everyone. There was no way he was going to be able to get that comfortable around this many strangers. He made a quick trip to the restroom and stopped in the aisle to stretch his legs and torso as much as he could in the tight space, before regrettably sliding back into his seat. He knocked back the last bit of his drink and followed it with the water, before sliding his tray back up and settling in. His phone buzzed on his leg.

How was dinner?

Pretty good, actually. I think I owe you a few hundred dollars at this point.

Nonsense, it was my pleasure.

Thank you.

Is it sad that this is probably better than any date I’ve ever had?

That’s only because you haven’t been on a proper date with me ; )

Or because I’m bad at the whole dating thing. (Did you just winky face me?)

I think, given the right company, you’d do better than you think. (Yes, yes I did.)

Hah. A high compliment.

How about this for a compliment…….You really need to warn my staff before you go stretching in the aisle, again. Nobody benefits from a passed out crew.

Who told you about that?

Oh, just a little conversation between Clary and Maia.

Ugh.

I like Maia.

AND DON’T YOU HAVE A PLANE TO FLY?!

Shhhhhhhhh. I’m a professional, remember?

And I figured you would. She likes you, too.

Nobody likes me.

That’s very much not true. I happen to have it on good authority that just a small little sliver of your stomach can cause an impressive stir.

Please stop.

Are you blushing again?

I’m not sending you a selfie.

What if I pout?

Don’t do that. I’ll be forced to take one and then I’ll die of embarrassment. Nobody needs that.

*Sighs* I rather like you living, so I’ll give you a pass this time.

So generous.

You have no idea how generous I can be.

You can’t just keep saying things like that to me.

Why not? I’m just trying to give you “sweet dreams” material.

That might be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.

Did it make you smile?

Maybe……

Yes.

Good. Regrettably, I have to go do the heavy lifting now. I’ll leave you to sleep.

Sleep. Sure. Easy. No problem.

Goodnight, Alexander.

Surprisingly, sleep came easier than he ever could have imagined it would, given the situation, which made him thankful for the food, booze, and the exhaustion that came with being up for almost twenty-four hours straight. He drifted off replaying the messages from Captain Bane in his head over and over and a relaxed smile on his face.

Alec woke with a start when the man in his row slid their window shade all the way up. He squinted against the bright sun, a clear indication that he slept longer than just a few hours. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and tried to blink the sleep from them. When he looked around he saw that a few people were still sleeping, but most were awake and talking quietly, with various drinks and snacks. It seemed he had slept through the beverage cart and probably some announcements, and he imagined that they had to be pretty close to landing in Rome.

He hit his knee on something and looked down to see that someone had lowered his tray and placed a lidded cup of coffee, a bottle of water and a blueberry muffin on it. That’s when it all came back to him. He scrambled around in his lap to find his phone, dropping it on the floor in his haste. He leaned down in the tight space to get it and hit his head on the seatback in front of him. “Shit!”

He glanced at his seatmates and said a quick, “Sorry,” for cursing and causing a ruckus, but didn’t pay attention to them long enough to see their reactions. He had much better things to do.

He managed to fish his phone off the floor and quickly straightened, sliding down his notifications with impressive speed and selecting the one he wanted.

Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. If you need anything else, let me know.

Alec grinned and took a big gulp of his coffee before replying. He needed to wake up fast.

You are a gift, you know that?

Does that mean you’re going to eagerly unwrap me?

It’s too early for sentences like that.

It’s never too early for sentences like that.

How long until we land?

An hour and seventeen minutes.

Aren’t you getting tired?

I’m used to it, darling. Don’t worry about me.

Darling. He actively tried to keep a stupid smile from taking over his face. An hour. An hour until he exited this plane…..through the front of the plane. The front of the plane where this man currently was. Fuck. He needed a lot more coffee, a toothbrush, and a mirror STAT. He looked down at his crumpled t-shirt and jogging pants and swore under his breath. Truthfully, Alec wasn’t even sure he would be seeing him in person when they landed. He hadn’t seen him when they boarded, and so maybe it would be a repeat of that. That thought was too disappointing for him though, so he pushed it away and set about righting himself, just in case.

He drank his coffee down as quickly as he could without burning his mouth. Then he wrapped his muffin up in the package and put it in his backpack, knowing there was no way his nervous early morning stomach would tolerate it. He grabbed his toiletry bag and rushed to the bathroom before the imminent announcement that they had to stay in their seats.

Once he was folded in the cramped space, he brushed his teeth and thanked God for his recent haircut in preparation for the wedding. He spent a few minutes mussing his hair up with his fingers and a bit of water before deciding it was about as good as it was going to get. He ran his hand over his face and decided the scruff there wasn’t too bad, not bad enough to shave in an airplane bathroom, at least.

He started to stretch and then abruptly stopped, self-conscious that people would notice and he’d be the subject of mile-high gossip once again. He returned to his seat feeling a bit more human and a lot more nervous.

Clary came walking down the aisle with purpose, smiled way too brightly at him for 7 a.m. and handed him a folded up slip of paper. He hesitantly took it with a polite, “Thanks,” and immediately opened it and read the elegant script.

Meet me up front, if you want , after everyone else has deplaned.

~M.

If you want. He wasn’t sure he had ever wanted anything so much in his life.

Captain Garroway came over the intercom to let them know they were beginning their descent and Alec didn’t comprehend any of it. He put his seatbelt on when others around him did and tried to stop bouncing his leg nervously. Maybe he had a little too much coffee.

Ten minutes later they landed in Rome without incident, and Alec unbuckled his seatbelt and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Why the hell was he so nervous? He watched as the other passengers gathered their belongings and exited at an agonizingly slow pace. Twice he got up and helped someone get a bag out of the compartment to hurry the process along. He tried really fucking hard to not compare the man across from him to a sloth, like a total asshole. Finally, when it got to his row he stood up and let the man and woman go by him.

Once they had their stuff gathered, the woman unexpectedly turned to Alec and said, “I just have to know, are you some kind of celebrity or something?”

Alec balked.

The man with her looked shocked as he nudged her. “Jules!”

She shrugged. “What? It’s kind of obvious.” She turned back to Alec. “Which movies are you in?”

Alec huffed out a laugh, “What? No…”

He was relieved when her boyfriend tugged her along even if he was kind of amused at the last disbelieving look she shot him.

The last few rows went by without any more accusations of stardom, which Alec was very grateful for, and then Clary passed by him last, with a wink and a little wave. He groaned out loud and didn’t even feel bad for it.

There was movement at the front of the plane from the crew and he forced himself to not focus on any of it, but instead he pulled his suitcase out of the overhead bin and threw his backpack over his shoulder. He started walking.

It all became too real when he saw Clary and Maia exit the plane behind the passengers. That wasn’t normal, was it? That definitely wasn’t normal. Jesus Christ, his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He got to first class and the other pilot, Garroway, was standing there in front of the cockpit door, his bag in hand. He shot Alec a smug, crooked smile and left the plane without a word.

And then there he stood.

There he stood looking way more beautiful than anyone who had been working all night had any right to. His eyes were bright and kohl-rimmed, his features strong and beautiful even as he nervously rubbed the fingers of his left hand together. He really was a kind of perfect that Alec hadn’t even realized existed. He wanted to devour him.

Alec watched, a little stunned, as he stepped forward. Then, he tilted his head up in a challenge and parted his lips, and that was all it took.

Alec abandoned his luggage right there in the aisle and went to him. He reached out with both hands, pressing one hand to his hip and grabbing his shirt with the other, pulling him into him. He kissed him hard, already drowning in the scent of him, the feel of him.

They started stumbling backward, and Alec realized that he was throwing his weight around too much, but fucking hell, he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t even think as he pressed their lips together over and over. He wanted it hard and fast, soft and slow, any and every way he could have him.

They stumbled through the door and into the back of the captain’s chair with an “oomph” and Alec opened his eyes briefly to drink him in.

“Alec,” he said, his breath hot on Alec’s lips, eyes still closed.

“Magnus,” Alec said, stepping into him even more, closing the tiniest bit of space that was left between them. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Magnus opened his eyes and smiled at him. “Yes, I can feel that,” he said, rolling his hips against Alec’s.

“You haven’t felt anything yet,” Alec said, his voice gruff.

Magnus slid a hand between them, “Oh, this isn’t just anything,” he said, rubbing fingers down Alec’s length through his pants. He curled them under the waistband and tugged, causing Alec to go from half-hard to fully erect in no time flat. “I like these pants…….a lot.”

Alec rubbed circles on Magnus’ ribcage with his thumb to distract himself so he could manage to speak a coherent sentence. “They’re perfect for long flights.”

He nearly whimpered when Magnus retracted his hand, but somehow still managed to narrow his eyes at him. “Speaking of long flights,” he said, “I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

Magnus smiled at him. “Oh, really? Whatever did I do?”

At that moment he realized how much he had missed that. His smile, his cunning wit, the elegance with which he spoke, his humor. All of it. He had missed all of Magnus. Desperately. He couldn’t believe he even considered the notion that anyone he met on a hookup app would be enough.

He stepped back a little bit, trying to be serious, but he didn’t remove his hands from Magnus’ waist, because he wasn’t planning on going far, maybe ever. “Well, you were in the city where I live and you didn’t even call me,” he accused, trying not to sound too desperate and probably failing miserably.

Magnus’ eyes twinkled with mischief, which should have prepared Alec for what came next, but before he knew it Magnus had changed their positions, and Alec was being pushed back against the chair, with Magnus pressing up against him, chest to hip. He leaned in and whispered in Alec’s ear, “Mmmmmm, well, if you needed me to dick you down, all you had to do was say something.” He nibbled gently at his earlobe and Alec almost forgot how to move air.

Fucking hell, if that didn’t make him damn near want to beg. “This is me saying something.”

Magnus kissed his neck ever so lightly, which sent shivers all the way down his body. “Hmmmm, what exactly are you saying, darling?”

“Magnus,” he said, exasperated and damn near floating with desire. Or lack of oxygen. Probably both.

“Alexander,” he practically purred back.

That was the first time Alec had ever heard him say his full name and he hoped it wasn’t even close to the last time. He actually fucking whimpered, and that was when he decided this wasn’t the time to be stubborn. “I need you to dick me down,” he admitted, snaking a hand up and grabbing Magnus’ hair. He pulled his head back and away from his neck to get back some control, instead kissing him deeply, sliding his tongue into his mouth and languidly tasting him.

Magnus moaned into his mouth and returned the kiss with equal intensity, before pulling away to answer him, grinding their hips together once more for good measure.

“With pleasure, if you promise to put that beautiful mouth of yours to good use.”

Alec’s whole body was singing at that promise. “Deal.” He looked around, thinking of logistics for all the things they were about to do, and then he was snapped back into the reality of exactly where they were.

“You’re a pilot,” he said, matter of fact, even if a little breathless.

“I am.” Magnus smiled. “Are you impressed?”

“Very, but what else is new?” Alec answered.

Magnus laughed, “I have to admit this is turning out most favorable for me as well.”

Alec looked around, “How long before you have to fly out again?”

Magnus said, “A couple of days…ish.”

“Ish?” Alec asked.

“That’s what I said.”

“Can you come to my hotel later?” Alec asked.

Magnus bit his bottom lip, then grinned. “You aren’t even a little tempted to do it right here, Alec? It is a Cock-pit, after all. It’s right there in the name,” he whispered.

Alec smiled, “Wow.” Honestly, fuck him for being so sexy while delivering such outrageous lines.

Magnus laughed deeply, and Alec ran a large hand down his chest and pulled his shirt down to kiss what he could of his collar bone. “Believe me, I’m very, very tempted, but I want to get you completely naked, lay you out on a bed, and take my time with you. I’ve had enough of cramped spaces for a while.”

“How could I possibly argue with that logic?” Magnus asked.

“You can’t,” Alec said.

“Text me your hotel information and give me a couple of hours?” Magnus asked.

The “couple of hours” part had him rethinking the whole “fucking in the cockpit of this plane” business, but he pushed away from Magnus with Herculean effort and placed one last and lingering kiss to his lips.

Alec forced himself to go back into the plane to collect his belongings, feeling Magnus’ eyes on him the whole way. When he passed by him again, Magnus was leaning against the door, a knowing smirk on his face.

Alec gestured to Magnus’ uniform. “Are you going to be wearing this when you stop by?” He couldn’t resist asking.

Magnus’ eyes crinkled with his smile. “Ooh, does someone have a kink?”

“Says the man who’s obsessed with my legs,” he countered, grinning back.

Magnus laughed, and Alec thought that it might very well be the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. “Get out of my airplane, Alexander.”

#asks #answers #ever-so-nice #this was so lovely #thank you #and im sorry for being such a damn hot mess #and when you soar #oh how i have to get to working on this #ive missed this version of them #fanfic #myfics #malec #malec au #pilot magnus #the one prompted by the twitter post of a pilot messaging someone on grindr

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natsunoomoi · 4 years

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Chinese Romance Novels in English

So by chance and obviously successful marketing, I’ve had a lot of web novel apps being advertised to me and out of boredom I downloaded one and got hooked real bad.

The first app I got I think I might delete because most of it seems like trash and was clearly like American wannabe writers. I kind of just read the first few chapters of one story that they happened to put into an advertised Facebook post and I just wanted to continue the story 1 or 2 chapters just to get off the cliffhanger, but the story itself actually isn’t that good and the character motivations seem kind of stupid. The main character also seems kind of like a Mary Sue where like she is just special by some huge coincidence of fate and it’s kind of annoying. Like the beginning part was alright, and then it took a sharp turn when the first guy she was into that rejected her decided for some stupid reason to challenge her new guy who accepted her and then when he claimed to not concede a fight to the death, he went absolutely apeshit and somehow it traveled into dark magic. Idek. Plus like...almost all the stories on that app for some reason have to do with wolf people and packs? Like it’s obviously some kind of trend inspired from Jacob and Twilight and I don’t even like that series. And in addition to that, it’s like on par with the famously former Twilight fanfiction 50 Shades where it has some really uncomfortable unhealthy depictions of BDSM relationships. Like it’s just kind of thrown in there for no reason...? Like whatever floats your boat, but you can totally write it in there in a more sensible way and not just like throw it in randomly. In that sense, maybe it’s actually worse than 50 Shades. Seriously a lot of the stories on there read like horribly written fanfiction by a 12 year old. I was 12 once and my stories then were no better because I had too many ideas and wanted them all in. That’s how much of a mess those stories are. This one I just mentioned is the better one. There’s another one I started reading that’s much worse that’s like a high school drama that I barely remember the story too, but I remember the person putting in a whole ton of One Direction lyrics, which I think is going to get the person and the app sued because lyrics are copyrighted and the writer shamelessly pointed out they are a Directioner and to unlock new chapters you need certain items that you can earn or buy and basically they’re definitely making money off of it.

But then similar to how I found this app, I found another app that had Chinese romance novels translated into English in the same way I found the previously mentioned app through a Facebook ad, which is cool cuz I don’t often get to read literally anything with main characters that are Chinese let alone Asian. Most of the Asian protagonist media I consume is from Japan and I just gave up on looking up anything in Chinese cuz I honestly didn’t know I could find any in English.

But damn, the quality of writing is rather good. The translations could use some work and consistency where sometimes the translator doesn’t know common English expressions or there’s grammatical mistakes in newer chapters or sometimes I think they’re speed translating too fast and accidentally mix up characters. But the story itself is top notch and suspenseful. I’ve been reading non-stop for the last week and a half and caught up and am awaiting new chapters. Sometimes there’s bits where character decisions are a little frustrating or like some of the plot twists are like again or like how come this person can’t catch a break, but I got invested in the story so quick.

There’s two in particular I’m enjoying right now. One is Irresistible Romance and the other is Thorny First Marriage on Bravonovel. It’s actually a bit pricey to charge for diamonds and pearls to continue the story, but I felt like it was worth it because I did want to read more and didn’t regret it. I actually started a third today just because I ran out of chapters in those two. Both are similar in that the male lead that the female protagonist is with or trying to get with is like a rich Chinese business man that is so well-known for their business acumen and power via their company that they can strike fear into the hearts of other people and companies. So there’s like some intrigue and like really fascinating maneuvers and media manipulation.

In Irresistible Romance, the main character is an actress that had a really shitty relationship with the loser President of her management company who was cheating on her with another actress and he had convinced his fiancee (the main character) to basically give up her life for him and help him to push the actress that he was ultimately having an affair with. The main character, Yan Wen, gives up the final straw when like he ditches her at the Marriage Registration Office for some lame excuse where he’s with his mistress and by chance the rich guy in this story shows up at the Registration Office and gets stood up by his own prospective fiancee although for him it was a random girl he picked from a pile just to satisfy his family getting on his case about not finding a wife. So basically because the main character grows a spine and decides fuck her fiance she’s not going to just take his bullshit, she asks the rich guy, Jiang Sui-an, if he’d mind marrying her. He totally accepts though and they get married on the spot. He seems at first to be kind of a cold-hearted jerk, but he’s actually super cool. Like he marries Yan Wen just to get his family off his back, but then after he does some research into his wife and finds her super interesting and as she begins her journey of trying to take back her life from her ex-fiancee and his stuck up bitch mistress, he like finds out and helps from the shadows and like realizes she’s actually super cool too. And then like through the whole process they actually fall for each other and are super sweet and have each other’s backs. They have a really beautiful and healthy relationship where they can each have their own separate lives and do their thing, but they get supported and help when needed.

It was so refreshing cuz like the rich CEO thing was like a huge fetish for sure especially after 50 Shades, but like a lot of people noted, that relationship was hella unhealthy. This story though, Sui-an lets Wen take her time fixing her career and life in her own way and like postpones announcing their marriage so she can set things right herself. He totally supports her space and her own decisions, but if he ever sees that she needs an extra boost or gets backed into a corner by some unexpected thing, he steps up and lends a hand. But ultimately he leaves everything up to her decision. And like on her end too, she’s totally a really good supportive wife and tries to make sure she doesn’t worry him too much and that he gets plenty of sleep and eats regularly, and she even tries to help him where she can with his work. They are so cute together. Along the way a lot of other people try to defame Wen or pull some shady entertainment world tactics, but she stays poised and lets the truth come out on its own or even does some defensive research and stuff. It’s so good.

Plus, writing-wise it’s really fascinating how they intertwine the online commentary tabloid headlines into the story so you can see different angles. And then when they write the antagonists’ sides they give you their internal dialog POV so you can understand the situation the best. The actual story and plot development is so good.

Then Thorny First Marriage, holy shit the intrigue. Plus for the most part, the main character is most like my personality only I’m not a former journalist. It’s just a lot of her reactions and sassy thoughts to things are really similar to me and how I feel like I would react if I was in her position. There’s a few times where she does things that I don’t think I would necessarily do or I would do things a bit more drastically, but so good and I identify with her. Writing-wise I don’t think it’s as good as Irresistible Romance because there’s been two times where they kind of forgot about something that they mentioned in an earlier chapter, so they have some issues keeping track of their plot twists, and there’s a few times where I’m reading like, “Why don’t you just tell them what happened and then they’d STFU?”

But yeah, this story starts out with the main character, Xia Zhi, waking up in the presidential suite of a hotel and not knowing how she got there and distinctly feeling like she was raped and finding some...remnants on the bed next to her. As the plot develops you find out that her asshole husband, who had never touched her himself for some reason and has the spine of jellyfish, sold her to some rich guy for 2 million bucks (she finds out later). What the actual hell? What kind of husband pimps his wife to another man?! And like she gets a pregnancy test later and somehow someone blabs to her mother-in-law and her mother-in-law totally doesn’t believe her and she knows that her son and her were never intimate, so she throws her out of the house. Then some dude that’s like some kind of secretary or assistant just comes by all stalker-like that appears to be from some rich guy that knows her and basically coerces her into going with them and going to some mystery safe house mansion. She’ll be cared for there by two staff, but she also tries to escape and find out who tf this guy is and if he’s the Dad. She still has a job and goes to work as a journalist, but gets assigned to interview some rich VP of a famous company. All the while she’s trying to get a hold of her asshole husband to find out what the hell happened to her that night she didn’t remember where she got super frickin’ drunk at his company party. This dick has been in hiding and trying to avoid her for some reason since that night and he finally calls back in the middle of her interview and because she’s freaking out about her unexplained pregnancy she unprofessionally takes the call. The rich VP, Sang Qi, ends up calling her boss and getting her fired, which I mean, obviously. That’s a thing where I probably wouldn’t have taken the call. One of the differentiating things between her and me. But how she reacts to being fired, yeah, that’s totally me. She runs into Sang Qi later at a rich people shopping mall shop and somehow manages to steal his phone and starts a plotline where she tries to use it as leverage to like get back at him and make a living for herself that also involves him being crafty and like kind of tricking her into some situations like confronting her ex-husband. And then like at some point she remembers a custom cufflink she remembered finding in the room she woke up in that one time and starts to wonder and suspect if maybe Sang Qi was the guy cuz he does have those kinds of things. And she like looks at the cufflink she has that she took from the room as evidence, but she has to do a direct comparison. He like uses GPS to find her mansion prison and tries to take back his phone and Zhi gets like even more suspicious that he is the guy cuz for some reason he knows how the balcony door at the place works even though it has a weird af lock, and they have witty banter and somehow he ends up staying over and she tries to sneak in his room at night to check out his cufflink but he catches her. And like hot damn, so much intrigue. After like a ton of frustration with trying to interrogate everyone around her about who the baby Daddy is she’s just like f it, I’m not going to be your baby incubator and tries to go get an abortion (I would’ve gone way sooner) and before they can start the procedure Sang Qi shows up and claims to be the Dad, and then afterward also takes care of her because she’s allergic to anesthetic. Since she knows who now they like stay together and stuff and she tries to question him about that night, but he actually has no memory of it either cuz he was super frickin’ drunk too. It’s just a lot of unanswered questions. And like since he’s supposedly the Dad, he tries to get closer to her, but she won’t let him really. There’s a lot of witty banter between them and like he even helps her out with her loser husband by getting him demoted. Over time they actually become fond of each other and like used to each other, and it’s really sweet. He actually is there for her and helps her on a number of occasions even though she doesn’t really trust him cuz of course he bought her right? But then little by little you see them really start to like each other and it seems like he might be more interested whereas Zhi is like more reserved because he’s her captor as far as she knows. But then just when you think that maybe they’ll get together, Qi disappears and then the process of him showing up you find out who the actual Dad is and a whole lot of family drama, and other drama where like you actually don’t know where Qi stands, and it like isn’t until like where I am that you find out he was actually upright the whole time. It’s so stressful but it’s so good.

There was a couple of times earlier one where there’s misunderstandings with other people, where I was like, dude, just tell the people your asshole husband sold you for money. I think they’d be more understanding of your situation if they knew.

And then like...for me, I like Qi and I came around to him after awhile, but like I suspected him and didn’t like him toward the beginning especially because he didn’t do or say anything that made him seem trustworthy. He never really lies except for one thing (about being the father), but also he like isn’t that truthful either, or rather, he doesn’t stop to actually explain himself properly which would have made Zhi not like freak out or mistrust him and would have made me not mistrust him. Like I shared a lot of Zhi’s fears because she was in an unfamiliar situation and being manipulated like a puppet by someone with money, and this guy claims to be the one that bought her like an object to be a baby incubator. I and the main character can’t respect that no matter how nice he is. If he admit he didn’t do it at the beginning it would have made all the difference. It’s a trek to find out who though. And at first even that guy sounds disgusting, but like where I am in the story maybe not? Like almost sympathetic.

The only one that I like really hate and disgusts me is her original husband. Like eww. He’s such a greedy asshole. And like later on you find out that actually he lied to her about how much he sold her for and it was actually more. What the actual fuck?! It wasn’t bad enough that you sold your wife for money, but you had to lie to her too about how much it was so you can hide the money from her? And for such a long frickin’ time he tried to coax her to come back and to not divorce him. What the actual hell? What kind of delusion is he living in?! But like also her original husband reminds me of someone I knew in real life when I was in uni. He was a friend of mine initially, but at some point he started making really uncomfortable jokes and it seemed like he liked me or something. I never viewed him that way, but we just hung out. And then at my uni because there was a huge rush to like try to figure out 2nd year housing, we arranged to do a co-ed roommate situation where like me and another girl and him and his friend would stay in apartment from our second year. To me that seemed normal cuz other friends of mine did that too because there’s only so many people you know and you have to try to snatch up and apply for apartments as soon as possible. There were long wait lines and I actually hadn’t thought about it until the last minute, so I didn’t see it as having much of a choice. But he started making cracks and fantasizing about neighbors and people misunderstanding and thinking we were married, which I didn’t find funny and how and why when there were other people we were living with too? It made me super uncomfortable and during the summer he was kind of like a stalker and tracking where I went so I just started avoiding him every chance I could. After awhile thinking about him made me feel physically ill. The next year after that my roommate decided to move out with two other girls into a different apartment (after unsuccessfully trying to make him leave). But the whole thing with how Zhi’s first husband was written totally reminded me of that guy. Especially with the lame excuses when confronted and stuff and not thinking and his unhealthy tie to his parents’ way of living.

That said, finding these stories are kind of like an unexpected comfort. I wish I could find someone as supportive as Sui-an or Qi. Especially when the men I’ve met in my life were just as bad as some of the other male characters or arguably worse. I’ve been bullied by the guys I fell for, I’ve liked some guys that were way too moody, I’ve had guys that liked me that were not creepy too, but I just wasn’t interested in them or the timing was just wrong, I’ve given up someone I really cared for because a mutual friend of ours crossed a line and then posthumously went kind of crazy from the grief, and I’ve met guys that were really fucking stupid and didn’t know how to act appropriately in a professional situation and actually sexually harassed and retaliated against me. I’m so tired and almost 4 years into living in Japan, I’m starting to realize that because of that last one, I think I gave up on my life because of trauma. Just hurt too many times, so don’t even think about love anymore cuz why bother? It took awhile for me to even be able to become a functioning human being again after the PTSD of harassment. I was really bad and freaking out because the guy that did it was so frickin’ stupid that he like wasn’t actually responsible enough to know the things he shouldn’t do and it was freaking me the hell out that he just didn’t know when he crossed a line. So I ran away to another country and tried to rebuild some semblance of a life for myself. Now my home country is a goddamn mess and I’d be in a worse position to go home, but at the same time, although my heart has healed enough to the point that I can function as a human. I am not at all motivated to look for anyone or let myself care for someone ever again. When I was younger I had so many dreams and really wanted a family. But now I am sad to say I have resigned myself to believing that that will probably never happen because I am apparently plagued by horrible people. I haven’t met horrible people since I’ve been in Japan, but I also don’t go out and talk to anyone other than co-workers and students because I’m busy and in my free time I want to introvert. It’d be kind of nice if I was lucky and had a kind of random chance like Yan Wen cuz like, I just can’t and don’t want to put up with low quality people.

That said, I was talking with my boss and co-worker the other day and we were discussing how China’s population problem with the bachelor society so there’s a lot of men but less available women to be their wife, so I was kind of wondering if that was also kind of how come so many modern day Chinese romance novels seem to involve a rich CEO. I suppose in China right now the chance that you could marry one is greater than anywhere else in the world because of the population problem, so maybe they’re trying to promote moving there and marrying them. LOL I’d be kind of suspicious of whether or not they’d be able to be like actually good husbands for real, but I suppose there probably is some sense of desperation.

And then because I ran out of chapters to read for today because I have to wait for them to translate more, I started another one about a Bossy Ghost Husband? It’s kind of creepy at the beginning, but the ghost husband thing has been something I was kind of curious about because you can marry the dead in China. But like for real I also wondered if youkai really are real or not and if you could unknowingly marry a youkai or something too, so basically it’s right up my alley too. And then also because my life is garbage I was like seriously thinking and wondering if it would actually be so bad to be single to the people who know you around you, but married actually to a ghost and have a ghost husband to go home to? Like would that actually be bad? I suppose in that same vein, it’s not much different from WoL having a secret relationship with Emet-Selch, but yeah.

Anyway, all of this gave me a lot to think about.

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shamelessly4shameless-blog · 6 years

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We Got Time.

Happy Gift Exchange @godisthedice The prompt you sent was: Sentinel AU - Sentinel!Ian and Guide!Mickey. Ian is a fragile Sentinel/prone to zoning out because of his bipolar. Any take on the AU you want other than that! Now I have to confess I have never heard of Sentinel before so I have had to embellish a little but this is what I came up with and I hope you like it :-)

Mickey has been going to Boys Town for a while. Four months to be exact. At first, he hung back and watched, glaring at anyone who approached him, no matter how hot they were or how drunk he was. After a couple of visits to the same place, a rough and ready bar called Pile Driver with none of the pretty, eclectic lighting and décor of the more popular places on the strip, Mickey decided to try his luck with a blonde, who looked like a redhead under the red bulbs lining the limited seating area.

The sex had been pretty good, not rough enough for Mickey’s liking and over too soon, but it had been a release of sorts and the guy had large hands and solid jaw and was tall as fuck. He had been nice enough and quiet enough that Mickey didn’t immediately get up and leave afterwards. They had a drink, chatted shit and then shook hands and disappeared into the night, going their separate ways without remorse. It had been easy and easy was exactly what Mickey wanted.

Being gay in Southside was not pleasant. Being gay in his father’s household was outright dangerous. It had taken Terry getting a six year stretch for some stupid shit that Mickey didn’t even know the details of, for him to consider seeking out what he wanted so badly.

After the first time Mickey found it easier and easier to get what he needed. He didn’t go off with someone every time he visited, he wasn’t fuckin’ desperate! But if he spotted someone who looked good and didn’t chat shit at him like he was some virginal twink in need of reassurance, then yeah, Mickey might go out back with them.

It’s kinda monotonous and maybe a little less than Mickey truly wants but it satisfies at least a part of whatever the fucked up thing it is inside him and so he keeps going back, wearing his few smart button downs in a random rotation in the hope that no one will notice he always wears the same things. He just about has money for beer, sure as shit doesn’t have money for clothes to impress fairies in dive bars.

On the night when everything changes and Mickey Milkovich’s world gets turned upside down, he is wearing his pale grey button down, the top few buttons undone allowing a glimpse of fitted black tank beneath. He’s wearing dark jeans as usual and steel toe-capped boots, old and frayed so that light sparks off the patches of exposed metal. It could be any of the countless nights he has been there.

He’s on his third beer, getting quietly buzzed and beginning to scan the crowd for potential when he feels it. A wave of confusion and fear, crashing over his mind and lapping at his temples incessantly. Mickey puts his beer down shakily and glances around the club. He can feel whoever it is growing weaker whilst their fear spikes, but he can’t see anyone who looks like they are in distress – every fucker in the club seems to be having a great fucking time so who the Hell ...

The bright white lights from the DJ booth rake up the dancefloor, briefly illuminating the club and Mickey sees them – two men huddled close together, one leading the other toward the exit with a firm hand around his waist. The leader is older, his clothes and manner suggest wealth and there is a wedding band on his finger that catches the light treacherously. The other is young, possibly even younger than Mickey. He’s tall and wearing a thin tank top without a jacket despite it being the middle of winter. His eyes, ringed in dramatic black liner are closed, his mouth slack. Mickey huffs an impatient breath and shakes his head. Another tweeker just got off duty at another club most likely. There have been a few of them lately and if Mickey didn’t value his anonymity here so much, he would definitely be bringing some product to shift to these assholes.

The waves of sudden intense feeling from a random person are nothing new to Mickey, he’s had them for years and normally can ignore them, push them aside and move on with his day without a second thought. This time though, trying to ignore it is like trying to ignore a sharp stone in his shoe. He twists and shifts uncomfortably and shrugs at the fabric of his shirt, suddenly too tight across his shoulders. Whatever is going on, it’s not his business and it’s not going to get him laid, so as far as Mickey is concerned, it is not his problem. The feeling eases up slightly when the young man is out of sight and Mickey takes a shaky sip of his beer, sloshing some of it down his sleeve in the process.

“Shit!”

He bunches the cotton over his hand and rubs the damp fabric against his jeans irritably. A brunette on the dancefloor catches his eye and winks. Mickey gives him a small smirk in return and is about to saunter over when another wave of fear strikes him, it is like a firework, sharp and illuminating the darkness but fading quickly, and Mickey grabs his coat from the barstool and starts running towards the light trail before he can think about it.

The cold air hits him as he bursts out of the club, it burns his chest and stings his eyes and he skids on a patch of ice, arms flailing to keep his balance. He looks around frantically, the guy he is following is pushing out all kinds of garbled anguish and horrible as it is to be feeling it all crowding around in his own head, Mickey takes heart at its presence because it means that the kid is still there. He hasn’t lost him. Mickey walks as quickly as he dares, boots crunching the thin ice underfoot, shattering the surface of frozen puddles. He rounds the corner of the building, heading in the direction of the unofficial taxi pick-up point and sees them up ahead.

The old guy is propping the barely conscious guy up, one hand down the kids pants and running the other over his chest as he kisses and licks his face under a street lamp. In the brighter light Mickey can see just how young the redhead is. He makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat and stomps toward them.

“Why don’t you molest someone your own age, you jerk!”

Mickey grunts, grabbing the older man roughly and dragging him away, slamming one fist into his gut.

“Ow! Fuck!”

The man twists in Mickey’s grip but can’t break loose and glares at him accusingly

“You’re an animal”

“I’m not the one groping and licking on underage boys, am I?”

Mickey quips back at him, his tone more frustrated than truly angry now that the danger of losing them has passed.

“We’re just having some fun …”

“Shut the fuck up! Now give the kid some money before he calls the cops on you.”

There is a stammer of apologies and a flurry of bank notes and then Mickey tires of it all and shoves the old perv backwards, booting him in the ass for good measure as he scurries away.

“And learn how to run like a dude!”

Mickey yells after him, flexing his fists and stooping to pick up the fallen money. He glances up to make sure the asshole who has just completely derailed his night hasn’t wandered off too far. The boy is slumped on his side in a snow bank, pale lips turning blue with cold.

“Jesus Christ.”

Mickey shakes his head and stuffs the cash in his pockets, abandoning the last couple of notes in his concern. He crouches beside him, shaking his arm far more gently than he usually would in such a situation.

“Hey. Hey! Fuck.”

Mickey runs a hand over his face. There is no way the guy is getting up on his own. Mickey looks around as if hoping some magic wheelbarrow might appear and when it doesn’t, he begins to gather the lanky limbs up from the snow. He grunts with the effort of lifting the unconscious body over his shoulder, one arm wrapped securely around the back of his thighs. The kid might be a skinny little shit but he’s solid and the weight of him is both inconvenient and comforting. Mickey is dimly aware that the redhead might piss on him or vomit down his back but he doesn’t worry about it too much.

Southside is not an impossibly long walk away but it’s enough that Mickey grits his teeth and scowls at the thought of navigating the icy patches of sidewalk and hefting them both all the way back to his house but fuck it, he can’t exactly just drop him back down in the snow for some grey-pubed shithead to take advantage of.

“You call for a yoo-ber?”

Mickey glances up in surprise at the driver of the vehicle but after a moments hesitation, nods affirmatively

“Yeah I called for a yoo-ber.”

He echoes, not realising the drivers accent has thrown the word off. What the Hell does Mickey know about cabs? In his world if you need a goddamn ride, you hitch one or steal one – you don’t download a fuckin’ app and pay strangers for shit you can do yourself.

He bundles the redhead into the back seat and clambers in after him, giving the driver his address and shrugging out of his coat. This is definitely one of the nicer cars Mickey has ever ridden in and in other circumstances he’d slip his hand down the seats to check for lost cash, smokes or credit cards – rich people are almost always careless with their stuff – but today he is focussed on the boy whose eyelids are starting to flutter.

Mickey clumsily throws his jacket over the long pale body and sits back in his seat, thinking what his next move should be. The house should be empty but if it’s not he’s just going to have to make something up, maybe he can say that the guy owes him money and Mickey is going to torture it out of him when he wakes up? It’s flimsy but Mickey can’t seem to think properly. The clarity that had come when his fuckin’ damsel in distress passed out is now waning as he wakes, and Mickey’s head is once again crowded with too much emotional static.

He’s heard of this sort of thing. Every now and then a couple of assholes make the news with it – a Sentinel and a Guide find each other in the big wide world and live happily ever after or some stupid shit like that and everyone goes nuts for it. Mickey had anxiously wondered on occasion if he might be a bit like those freaks but he trained himself to ignore the emotions. One thing that growing up with Terry had taught him was how to push your feelings way, way down inside and never let them slip out into view. Mickey is damned expert at that and it’s served him well but something about the redhead beside him … Mickey couldn’t ignore him and he’s fairly certain it wasn’t just because he is hot. He hadn’t even got a good look at him til they were already outside and sure, the flaming hair and strong, pale limbs are nice, his ass is pretty great, and Mickey may have wanted to trail his fingertips over those high cheekbones but it had been more than that … more forceful than lust. The urge to protect and …. Mickey shuts the word ‘Guide’ down in his head before he can even fully think it. Fuck that. It’s all bullshit anyway … probably.

The cab pulls in outside the Milkovich house and the driver shakes his head in confusion when Mickey tries to shove some crumpled dollar bills at him.

“It is charged to your card, Mr Green.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Thanks.”

Mickey nods, as if this makes total sense to him and drags his semi-conscious companion out of the vehicle. Mickey chances setting him on his feet, and although he leans against Mickey’s shoulder heavily, the redhead manages to stand and the effort of doing so seems to wake him up a little.

“I’m Ian. We gonna have a good time?”

Mickey recognises the accent as Southside and smiles a little to himself without looking up at … Ian.

“Oh yeah, a real good time. Most likely listening to you puke up whatever cocktail of crappy knock off pills you ingested with that old creep at the club.”

“You’re pretty.”

Ian mumbles, trying to rest his cheek on Mickey’s head, causing the shorter man to jerk away and both of them to stumble, almost falling on the porch steps.

“Shut the fuck up, Firecrotch.”

Mickey’s tone is far softer than the words he speaks. He can feel exhaustion and uncertainty rolling off Ian in waves and the urge to smooth away his doubts is almost as strong as Mickey’s natural inclination to keep his distance.

“What’s your name?”

“Mickey.”

Ian repeats softly and something about the way Ian says his name makes Mickey smile despite himself.

Making it through the front door is one thing, but navigating the cluttered living room to try and get to Mickey’s bedroom is something else entirely. Mickey irritably kicks bags of stuff aside as he tries to steer Ian through but inches from the bedroom door, Ian snags his foot on something and sprawls across the floor. Mickey grabs for him but a blinding stab of pain overtakes his movements and he staggers back against the wall, the heel of his hand pressed to his forehead.

“Fuck!”

Mickey squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe through it, nostrils flaring. He has never really thought of himself as someone with a great deal of empathy. He tends to think of life as one big cluster fuck and if you fall down, you get fuckin’ trampled – end of story, bitch! But now something loosens within him and Mickey can feel the tight grip he keeps on himself slackening, letting empathy coil out from him and wrap gently around Ian, who is still on the floor, his fingers sticky with blood from a cut above his eyebrow.

“What are you …?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know just …”

Mickey keeps his eyes closed and reaches out with his mind. He has no idea what to do but something is telling him to take them both somewhere safe.

He pictures an empty building, beer cans line the ledges of broken windows, graffiti covers the walls, and it is cold as fuck. However it is also private and they can be alone here. Mickey knows this place well. He turns slightly and sees a large black box to his right, it looks heavy and when Mickey leans into it, the surface is almost uncomfortably hot. Mickey keeps his hands against it though and gradually begins to lean his weight into it, his nailbeds turning white with the force he is exerting. The box rasps against the chipped concrete floor and grudgingly begins to slide back.

In the living room, Ian is watching him with wide, disbelieving eyes as all his fear, even the muddled, muted fear that the drugs had created begins to disperse.

Ian knows what he is, he is a Sentinel and he has accepted that with a sort of reluctant pride. He’s never found cause to be ashamed, not about the shitty house he grew up in, not when he realised he was gay, not when he was diagnosed with bi-polar and not when he discovered his sentinel abilities. He is who he is and doesn’t need anyone to try and change him or save him.

Maybe that is why finding a Guide has been so hard. Many people have felt almost right but none of them have been the one. Even the ones who have accepted most of him, eventually Ian has always been able to feel them prodding tentatively at the edges of bipolar, trying to patch over it or wrap around it, refusing to accept that it is simply a part of who he is.

He feels Mickey approach that part of him, raw and confused and never fully at peace and tenses ready to do whatever it takes to stop it being interfered with, but Mickey simply observes it for a moment and then withdraws his attention.

Mickey pushes the box until something soft and pliant catches his eye. He steps around to look down at it and sees a substance like knotted cobwebs trailing after his progress. The individual strands are pale silver and shimmer in the weak light of the abandoned building. Mickey can tell they are fragile just from looking at them. Whatever the fuck they are, it ain’t his business. He’s here to move this weird box and although the stuff is snagged on it, he doesn’t think that he’s going to damage anything by carrying on. So that is what he does and little by little, the box edges toward one of the gaping holes where the windows used to be and finally, Mickey manages to tip it out, sending it tumbling into the nothingness below. Mickey steps back, panting, and takes a moment to catch his breath.

Ian’s mind clears and his breathing eases, completely in rhythm with Mickey’s own. He wishes Mickey would open his eyes, look at him properly but he takes the opportunity to look freely at his body, taking as much as he can in. Large feet in heavy boots and strong, stocky legs. His torso is broad and he’s clearly strong but maybe a little … soft? Ian wishes the light was better because he wants to see as much of his new friend as possible … maybe more than a friend should strictly want to see...Ian blinks and cocks his head to the side, squinting to read the words tattooed across Mickey’s fingers and he breaks into a wide smile when he finally pieces the letters together.

The shift in Ian’s mood breaks Mickey’s concentration and he opens his eyes, smiling softly in response to the ripple of happiness that has just washed over him. An electric blue gaze meets a gentle green one and it is almost too much.

Almost.

Love at first sight it a myth that Mickey Milkovich has long called bullshit on, but the swell of Ian’s emotion crashes over him like a summer storm, hot and fast, understanding and want crashing around him like thunder and the look in his eyes illuminating Mickey’s world like so many forks of lightening. He takes a shuddering breath and sees it mirrored on Ian’s lips. Mickey has no idea how he could stop it even if he wanted to and so he lets it flow over him and out of him, his cheeks growing hot with the unspoken admission.

Their breathing is completely in tandem, chests rising and falling in perfect rhythm. Mickey bites down on his lower lip until he tastes the metallic tang of blood. He can feel Ian, all of Ian. He can feel him as clearly as he can feel the throbbing of his bitten lip and he knows instinctively that Ian can feel him just as well. Hopes, fears, dreams. Their qualities and flaws all laid out in a dazzling array of complexities and acceptance blooms, clear and honest and vibrant in the small, cluttered room on a street in Chicago’s notorious South Side.

“We gotta put something on that cut.”

His voice is strained even to his own ears and Ian doesn’t reply, merely rubs the back of his hand across the wound, dashing away the drying blood, wiping it off on his jeans before holding out his hand to Mickey.

If what the papers and news reports say is true, they may not have had a choice in the unexpected bond that had formed between them but as Mickey bent to touch his fingers to Ian’s palm, he knew that it was a conscious choice and one that he would probably make every day for the rest of his life.

“Are you my Guide, Mickey?”

Ian asks, almost shyly, squeezing Mickey’s fingers tightly as the words echoing between their newly linked perceptions. The question startles Mickey out of his own thoughts and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“How the fuck should I know?”

Mickey scowls, aware that this is not how Guides are supposed to speak to their Sentinels. They’re meant to be all calm and zen and shit. Ian doesn’t seem to mind though. Ian smiles again, a sweet, full-lipped smile that makes Mickey’s stomach flutter. If he was Ian’s Guide he should feel in complete control, he should be dominating the situation completely but that is not what is happening. Something is shifting between them, a swift change like sand dunes disturbed by a strong wind only to form a more beautiful pattern on the desert floor.

Ian pulls Mickey down to him and Mickey slides willingly onto the floor beside him, letting Ian’s large hands frame his face, cradling him and sending a constant stream of curious, hopeful contentment across the fragile air between them.

“Have you ever …?”

“No.”

Mickey shakes his head firmly and then hesitates, a slight frown creasing his brow.

“Wait, you talking about this gay shit or this weird new shit?”

Ian laughs and it is the best sound Mickey thinks he has ever heard. Not much can cajole Mickey out of a decent frown but that sound does.

“Weird new shit. You found me at Pile Driver so I figured … you know ...”

Ian rubs his thumb lightly over Mickey’s cheek, playfully tugging his earlobe. Mickey looks away and bites his answering grin back, sucking in his cheeks and making a bored motion with his tongue.

Ian leans forward and their lips touch ever so briefly. It is the first time Mickey has ever been kissed and he pushes out a sense of exhilaration so strong it makes Ian laugh that rich, wonderful laugh again as they pull apart.

The connection between the two boys has been thrumming along gently, like soft background music in a restaurant, but now Mickey begins to weaken it, pulling away a little, wanting his space back. He might have just fallen in love with someone and that is shit that needs individual processing, not a group activity.

“Don’t ...”

Ian’s brow creases and he grips the back of Mickey’s head tightly, fingers raking through the thick black hair.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’, man. Wanna get out of your head before I fuck something up in there.”

“You won’t!”

Ian shakes his head and Mickey snorts, gently unfolding Ian’s fingers from his head and placing them away from him.

“You done this before?”

“No but ... I’ve heard about it and I know a bit.”

“But you can’t do what I just did?”

“No …”

“And you don’t know how that bit works?”

“Not really …”

“Right. So learn a unique skill or shut the fuck up.”

Mickey smiles gently and disentangles himself from Ian, standing and offering him a hand up.

Ian presses his lips together and gives Mickey an exasperated look climbing to his feet unaided.

“Fuck you! You’re my Guide and you’re supposed to help me do … whatever shit I need to do.”

“I just fuckin’ did!”

Mickey raises his eyebrows, almost daring Ian to contradict him.

“Well maybe I need more help!”

“Jesus. You always this needy?”

“No. I usually just get what I want.”

Ian smirks and Mickey returns it ruefully.

“Yeah I bet you do, Firecrotch.”

“Ian.”

“Whatever. Bathrooms through there. Go sort that cut out.”

While Ian goes to the bathroom to clean up, Mickey gets a couple of cans of beer from the fridge, considers it, and then pours two glasses of orange juice instead. He doesn’t know how he managed to push the effect of the drugs away, but he is fairly certain that just because he somehow did, Ian still shouldn’t be drinking.

Ian looks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and flinches. He looks like shit. Dark circles under his eyes and pallid skin … fuck sake. He feels like he is at the tail end of a come down, it’s a soft landing thanks to Mickey, but his head still feels to heavy for his neck. Though perhaps it is just all that has happened. He had been about to go back to the apartment of some sleazy creep and get pawed over on an expensive couch whilst snorting, smoking and popping as many drugs as he could to try and quiet the sensations in his mind. Then, out of nowhere a beautiful, tough stranger shows up, rescues him, heals him, Guides him and, unless Ian is very much mistaken, they have fallen in love too. What the actual fuck?

He pinches himself sharply wondering if he is about to wake up and hears Mickey’s voice call out from the kitchen

“You okay?”

The connection. Mickey must have let himself back in a little bit just in case. Ian smiles at the thought of someone actually caring enough about him to want to do such a thing.

“Yeah, fine.”

Ian splashes a little water on his face and notices an open letter at his feet. It looks like a bill and it looks like someone has wiped their ass with it. The name at the top of the letter is ‘Mr I. Milkovich.’ - not Mickey then but perhaps a brother? Or maybe his father? Mickey certainly looks young enough to live with his parents still. Perhaps it is just a roommate? It is absolutely fucking weird to know so much about a person and not actually be sure of their last name. Ian grins to himself and adds it to the list of weird shit that just seems to happen to him.

Realising he is taking too long, Ian gently pats his face dry with the hem of his shirt as there are no towels in sight and unlocks the door, heading out to the living room and then following the smell of tobacco smoke though to one of the bedrooms. He finds Mickey sprawled on a rumpled bed, sipping a glass of orange juice. When he sees Ian he gives him a cocky grin and, unless Ian has imagined it, spreads his legs a little wider.

“Take a seat.”

Ian does so, sitting a little awkwardly on the edge of the mattress. The distance between them seems too far, a wide yawning chasm that neither is sure how to brace. Mickey clears his throat, places a hand almost protectively over his crotch, seemingly embarrassed about his presumption, and hands Ian his juice.

“Figured beer would be the last thing you need.”

“Yeah, probably right.”

Ian’s leg begins shaking up and down and he worries at a hangnail on his thumb.

“I don’t know how that shit happened earlier but I think I’m in love with you and you’re really fucking hot.”

He blurts suddenly and Mickey chokes on his drink, sending bright droplets across the room and dribbling the remainder down his chin.

“Damn! You just wanted to put that out there, huh?”

“Sorry.”

Ian ducks his head abashed as Mickey wipes his face on his sleeve, grinning.

“Nah, it’s cool. You look pretty good yourself, Freckles.”

“Yeah?”

Ian glances up, giving Mickey a one-sided smile, creating a dimple in his cheek that Mickey feels an almost overwhelming urge to kiss. He can feel the bond between them flexing as Ian’s happiness peaks again, a warm nudge against Mickey’s mind.

“Yeah.”

Mickey sits forward and lets his hand trail the length of Ian’s thigh, paying close attention the rhythm of Ian’s breathing and stopping his exploration when he hears it hitch.

“You OK?”

“Yeah … yeah just … relaxing.”

“Sure. Well go ahead and relax, Firecrotch. I got you.”

Mickey’s confidence is growing and he can feel Ian’s emotions stabilising as he touches him. Mickey has been told many times that he is a damn good lay, but no one has ever actually relaxed just from his touch before. It is a novel change from using his hands to do violence or tear off clothes before frantic coupling and he takes his time with Ian, gentling him as he travels his body.

“Is your last name Milkovich?”

“Mmhhmm.”

Mickey hums response as he scoots closer to Ian, ducking his head to place a kiss against his collar bone.

“Mine is ‘Gallagher’.”

“Good to meet you, Gallagher.”

Mickey carefully unbuttons Ian’s jeans and shoves his hands inside, grasping the hot, hard length of him tightly and running his thumb over the slit.

“I can’t wait to have you inside me, gonna ride that dick so fuckin’ good.”

Mickey licks his lip impatiently when Ian doesn’t immediately respond. He’s never fucked on a bed before and never done it with a guy this hot. He feels a little overwhelmed and so reverts to the sort of thing he normally says to speed things along and get him what he needs. Ian bucks his hips desperately but then grunts and stills Mickey’s hand with one of his own.

“What is it? You don’t wanna fuck me or something?”

Mickey’s voice is slightly strangled and his fingers twitch in Ian’s grasp making the younger man smile.

“I haven’t … I don’t … Can I at least touch you first?”

The question makes Mickey’s cock twitch in anticipation and he nods curtly.

“Course you can touch me! Knock yourself out, man.”

Ian’s hand hovers uncertainly for a split second and then plunges into Mickey’s hair, carding through it to cup the back of his head as he comes up to straddle Mickey’s thighs. The kiss Ian places on Mickey’s lips is fierce, all clashing teeth and thrusting tongues and Mickey can’t help the desires that he projects across to Ian, the urge to be treated roughly, the ache of wanting something hard and fast and furious, the desperation to be understood. It is the opposite of what a Guide should encourage his Sentinel towards and Mickey feels a twinge of guilt. Ian feels it too and pulls back to look down at Mickey.

“Let me take care of you.”

“Ain’t I supposed to do that shit for you?”

“Who gives a shit what we’re supposed to do?”

Ian smiles, kissing Mickey again and deftly opening the buttons on his shirt fastening first his lips and then his teeth around one dark nipple, a soft moan escaping as he feels the tiny bud of flesh harden and the sharp hiss of Mickey’s breath as Ian releases him.

Ian begins undressing Mickey, swift practical motions that calm Mickey’s skittering nerves. Once Ian has him down to his boxers, he glances uncertainly toward the door. Ian follows his gaze and immediately stands, crosses the room and closes it, flipping the flimsy lock Mickey has attached to it into place. He understands, maybe not everything but enough to know that Mickey clearly values his privacy.

“Just you and me.”

He smirks, tugging his tank off, and turning in a slow circle, arms held slightly away from his body.

“This okay for you?”

Mickey nods, not trusting his voice. His eyes are wide and staring and he isn’t entirely sure that he is awake but if this is a dream, it is quickly becoming the best dream he has ever had and he is in no hurry for it to end.

“You a military man?”

Mickey nods to the tattoo on Ian’s side and Ian grins almost bashfully

“It’s a long story but kind of … yeah. Army.”

Ian cocks his head to the side, watching him keenly and Mickey feels a surge of confidence pulse out from the redhead into the room. He nods again and it is all the permission Ian needs.

He pulls Mickey to his feet, steadying him with firm hands on his shoulders and looks down at him intently

“You gonna kiss me or just fuckin’...”

Ian shuts him up with a kiss and they smile into each others mouths, hands trailing each others bodies. Ian moves ones hand and pinches Mickey’s nipple, softly and then harder, pulling the shorter man up onto his toes, a flush of pleasure creeping over his cheeks as Ian twists him lightly, just enough to see the pulse in Mickey’s neck jump. His other hand tightens on the firm shoulder in his grip, pressing his thumb hard into the collarbone, his fingers leaving bright white outlines on the already pale skin.

Mickey shivers, the room is cold and his skin is too sensitive, he shifts on the balls of his feet, not sue whether Ian means to let him rest back onto his heels or not.

“Get into bed.”

Mickey snorts, he barely knows Gallagher but the guy says it as if they’ve been sharing Mickey’s bed for years, as if he belongs there, as if he is as much a part of the room as the cracked ceiling and patchy carpet.

He has no idea how Ian manages to burn even in the cold of the room but as Mickey scooches over in the narrow bed and Ian folds around him, the heat from Ian’s body makes him curl involuntarily into him, pressing his forehead against the toned muscle of Ian’s chest.

He feels fingers trail down his back, the tips blunt and strong as they curl around Mickey’s ass, kneading one of his cheeks lightly, then squeezing more firmly.

“You have a really great ass.”

Mickey allows his own hand to travel down to grope the round swell of Ian’s behind and he grins.

“You too, Army.”

“You like nicknames, huh?”

Ian begins kissing down Mickey’s temple, his jaw, his neck. He shuffles down the bed, not worrying about the sudden chill as his legs left the shelter of the quilt.

“Got a problem with that?”

Mickey peers down the length of the bed, a tiny smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Would it matter if I did?”

“Not really.”

“Well then quit fucking staring at me and spread ‘em.”

Ian bites Mickey’s calf firmly and Mickey tips his head back, grinning up at the ceiling, his eyes closed. He didn’t think a bed could make much difference, and by anyones standards his bed is uncomfortable. He usually sleeps on top of the quilt, wrapped in a hoody or his coat rather than try and sleep with springs poking him in the back but even with his shitty mattress, being in bed with Ian is so fucking liberating he almost wants to laugh with the joy of it.

He thinks of his father, what Terry would say if he knew. It is a recurring thought that comes to Mickey at some point during every encounter he has ever had with another man. Usually Mickey grits his teeth, closes his eyes and, if things are far enough along, thrusts himself back until pain and pleasure finally mingle and he cums over his clenched fist, already tugging his pants up with his free hand.

However with Ian between his legs, kissing the inside of his thigh and gripping his hips tightly, Mickey can barely see Terry’’s face. It is blurred and faint, like he is viewing it through smeared glass and the shame he feels is muted too.

Ian’s tongue slips between his cheeks and Mickey wraps his hand in Ian’s hair with a sharp curse.

“Jesus, Gallagher!”

Mickey’s dick is so swollen he is worried he is about to cum all over himself but Ian seems to know his body as well as he knows everything else and he shimmies back up the bed, looking at Mickey as if he is the best thing he has ever seen.

“Got lube?”

Mickey nods and leans over the edge of the bed, rooting through the junk under his bed until he comes up with a small bottle, the label scratched off just in case.

“Here I … Ian?”

Ian’s face is stony, his eyes fixed on the wall somewhere over Mickey’s shoulder as he kneels rigidly on the bed.

“Ian?”

Mickey drops the lube on the mattress between them and gently grips the back of Ian’s head.

“Hey. Hey it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Someone’s been stabbed.”

“It’s Southside, man. Of course someone’s been stabbed.”

“I don’t … I can’t see them...”

Mickey bites back a curse and looks around for his boxers which are no where to be seen. Mickey bites his lip, squares his shoulders and kneels up in front of Ian, shifting his grip in the red hair to a more certain one and locking eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about this right now. Let it go, man.”

Mickey can feel the instant Ian's sight starts to come back under his control.

"That’s it, you got it"

He coaxes, as Ian draws toward Mickey’s touch, the anxious fear within him easing as he melts forward, sinking his face to Mickey's shoulder and breathing in the scent of him.

“I got you.”

Mickey strokes Ian’s hair and kisses his temple as light tremors flash through the younger man’s body. There is a sudden rush of thinking awareness in the bond between them, Ian's emotions spike, twist, flutter and then … there is stillness.

“I’m sorry.”

Ian murmurs, swallowing heavily.

“Don’t worry about it, man.”

Mickey shrugs and continues smoothing Ian’s hair, his free hand tugging the quilt up around their shoulders, shrouding them from the outside world.

“You think I’m crazy? A Sentinel too fucked up to know where to look.”

“Nah. You’re … well you’re whatever the fuck you are, same as anyone else.”

“You are definitely my Guide.”

Ian smiles and nods to himself, the question is gone and certainty sits proudly in it’s place.

“You think?”

Mickey rubs a finger under his nose and Ian nods firmly

“Yeah. It’s … I can’t explain it but everything about you, even the way you smell… you’re the one.”

Ian closes his eyes so he doesn’t see the hope and the shock that flit across Mickey’s face.

“Lay down, Gallagher. You look beat.”

Ian frowns and cups a hand around Mickey’s balls

“But don’t you want …?”

Mickey kisses him by way of answer and then pulls back, gently patting Ian’s face and easing them both down onto the bed,

“You gonna run out on me in the morning?”

“No!”

“Then we got all the time in the world.”

Their limbs entwine and Ian speads the blanket over them, tucking it securely around Mickey’s broad back, another first for the brunette.

“I haven’t even said thank you. For rescuing me.”

Ian blinks bleerily and the flush of warmth that spreads through Mickey’s chest feels strange and a little uncomfortable but not unpleasant.

“Shut the fuck up, Gallagher.”

“You say that a lot.”

“You talk a lot.”

Mickey sees Ian’s eyes crinkle at the edges as his lips soften and curve into a small smile that is entirely fore Mickey.

“Better get used to it, Mick.”

As Mickey shuts off the lamp, there is not a word from either of their lips but they both drift into an easier sleep than either has had in a long time and it truly is the start of something beautiful.

#gge2017 #shameless #Shameless US #sentinel #AU #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #milkovich #fanfiction #shameless fanfiction #Sentinel/Guide AU

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1091

survey by ohsh1t2wksl8

Lasts!

Who

Who was the last person you got into an argument with? What was it about? My mom. We rarely get into arguments anymore so I was surprised when she made a comment the other day that was snippy enough to provoke me. She has a unique ability to make me feel insecure over just about everything, and last Saturday it was about my spelling abilities in the 7th grade.

Who was the last person you spoke on the phone with? What was the call regarding? My last call was with a client who has a tendency to micromanage :/ He called to ask me to accomplish a task, which was a little bothersome because all interactions with our clients ideally should be seen by everyone in my team, i.e. my manager and my director for visibility. Anyway, in the end I just let my bosses know that he called to ask me to do something for him.

Who was the last person that slept in your bed? Are they a lover or a friend? Gabie is the only other person who has slept in my bed, I think. She is neither.

I still get stunned whenever I type something like that up...thinking about how I practically grew up doing surveys, and how she was in nearly every survey I’ve taken since day one, and now she doesn’t play a single role in my life, it’s just super surreal to take in and I don’t think that feeling will ever go away.

Who was the last person to give you a hug or a kiss? Did you return the sentiment? My dad gave me a casual hug when it was time for him to go upstairs for bed. He just put his arm around my back while I was sitting on the couch, so I wasn’t in the proper position to return it.

Who was the last person to give you a gift? What was the gift? What holiday was it for, or was it “just because”? Erm, idk if it counts as a gift but Andi lent me their vape pen for the foreseeable future, haha. They know how much I like vaping and how it relaxes me; and since they don’t do it as much as I do (unless they lied for my sake), they lent theirs to me. It was a “just because” gift, which I appreciated.

Who is the person that you last went to for advice? Angelaaaa, earlier today. I’ve been in contact with a potential supplier for work purposes, and I had to do some negotiating in my last email. I have zero knowledge and experience in negotiations, so I didn’t know if I worded my email right, or if I insulted the supplier, etc lol so I immediately went to Anj after to check my email and to let me know if it sounded okay.

Who was the last person to say “I love you” to you? What significance does this person have in your life? My mom. I’m not super close with her and I haven’t replied to her with “I love you too,” since I was like maybe 14 or 15 due to the incredibly strained relationship we’ve had for the majority of my life; but she is my mom so she still holds a level of significance. I’m just not sure how much I’m willing to do or sacrifice for her.

Who was the last person that you spoke with, in person? Also my mom. She was asking where a certain local mountain was located because a friend of hers had recently climbed said mountain.

Who was the last person to request you on a social media network - and did you accept? It’s this middle-aged guy who I share a good number of mutual friends with. I figured he’s probably a professor or someone in media since all our mutual friends are either students and professors in my college, buuut I’ve personally never heard of him before so I ignored the request.

Who was the last person you texted or messaged, and what was it in regards to? Justine, my former co-intern. My company stopped taking in interns at the start of the year, but for some reason there’s this one girl intern that they’ve kept having around so we’re all trying to figure out why they kicked out Justine and the other co-interns but retained this one girl who still logs in her attendance every day, lol.

Who was the last person’s vehicle that you rode in? My dad’s, but I haven’t been on it since Christmas. I’ve been in a car more recently than that but it’s always my car.

Who was the last person to make you laugh or smile, and why? I’ll be breaking the rules quite a bit for this question, because it was Cooper. Earlier he kept barking at some dog he saw outside but whenever Nina asked him to “Shake,” he paused his barking to reach out his paw, without fail, and then proceeded to bark until he was asked to “Shake” again, hahaha.

Who was the last person that you took a photo with? Not sure, I think it was Andi.

Who is the last person that you flirted with? Were you successful? I don’t flirt.

Who was the last person to pay you a compliment, and what did they say? I honestly don’t remember. I’m sure I receive them more often than I think I do; I just do a horrible job keeping track of them. The last one I remember getting was my director saying I did a great job with a press release I had to work on in a rush last Friday, since the client had only placed super minor revisions on the material.

Who’s the last person that you visited in the hospital? I’ve never had to visit anyone in the hospital.

Who is the last person that you lent money to? Not a person but I will sometimes pay for things on my company’s behalf at first - since PR entails a lot of buying a lot of crap - and then ask to have the amount reimbursed right after.

What

What was the last food that you ate? My dad made some kind of Chinese-style, stir-fry thing with loads of chicken and vegetables for dinner earlier. Idk, he likes to combine things in the fridge. As usual, it ended up tasting delightful.

What was the last beverage that you drank? Coffee. As much as possible I hate drinking coffee in the evening since I don’t like being unable to fall asleep; but I had been craving a cup all day. I made one at around 7 PM but made sure I had the whole cup down by 8:30ish, so that the caffeine can subside sooner.

What did the last pair of footwear that you wore look like? They were just boring, blue flip-flops I wore out earlier when I walked Cooper.

What was the last color of pen that you used? I think it was blue.

What was your last thought before falling sleep last night? Nothing, man. I zonked out last night. I closed my eyes at 9 PM in the living room while my family was still around and the next thing I knew it was 12 AM with the whole first floor empty.

What was the last television show you watched? Friends. Been watching a lot of it recently, because I’ve been stressed a lot recently.

What was the last board or card game that you played? Trivial Pursuit or Pictionary; I can’t remember.

What was the last kind of bread that you ate? It was just regular toast. My mom made pasta last Sunday so she toasted up some bread to accompany the dish.

What color is the last shirt you wore? The one I wore before my current top? It was yellow with silver wording.

What was the last electronic that you plugged in to charge? My laptop. Though I really have to plug in my phone since it’s been on 3% for a good while now.

What’s is the last thing that you Googled? Mt. Pulag, since that’s the aforementioned mountain my mom was asking about earlier. I know of the mountain but wasn’t sure where exactly it is, so I had to Google it for her.

What’s the last concert you attended? Paramore.

What’s the last sporting event that you attended/watched? A volleyball game between the UP and Ateneo women’s teams.

What was the last app that you downloaded to your phone? A logo quiz game loooooool, what a throwback. I was looking for phone apps to download last Friday; and apparently logo quizzes still rank pretty high under the Trivia category, so I downloaded one to revisit the fun.

What was the last video game that you played? Mario Kart 8.

What’s the last computer game that you played? Some suuuper fucking old computer game I played as a kid called Magic Ball. During the first few months of the pandemic my memory started to torture me about a ball game I used to play on my dad’s old laptop but whose title I couldn’t remember, so on one day I spent a few hours trying to track it down. When I finally saw the right game, I downloaded a free trial (because you still had to buy the game 15 years later lol) and savored the 30 minutes re-experiencing my childhood.

What’s the last injury you had? The usual scratch from Cooper.

What’s the last holiday or event (baby shower, graduation, etc) that just passed? Christmas. But the next one would be my dad’s 50th birthday which we’ll be celebrating this weekend.

When

When was the last time that you took a painkiller, and what did you take it for? Around a month ago for a headache (which is my only reason for taking painkillers, anyway). I’d keep taking more but we’ve run out and my parents haven’t restocked it yet, partly because I know they know how reliant I get on them to get rid of my headaches.

When was the last time you went to the bathroom? Earlier this evening. My dad tripped while carrying Cooper’s food bowl filled with his dinner meal, so a lot of the rice spilled onto the floor. I helped him out and since the food was a bit sticky and wet, I had to go wash my hands in the bathroom afterwards.

When was the last time that you listened to music? Do you remember what the most recent song was? Also earlier this evening, just before dinner. I was working out on the rooftop and needed music to keep me company; anyway, the last song that played was Beyoncé’s Countdown.

When was your last work shift? Today. I work every weekday from 9 AM to 6 PM.

When is the last time that you had trouble falling asleep? Last Thursday, I think.

When is the last time you saw your parents? 15 minutes ago.

When was the last time you saw a significant other? When they were still my significant other? September. As an ex? Late November.

When was your last year of schooling/education? 2020 so yeah, didn’t get a graduation after four years of busting my ass in college.

When was the last time you took a shower? This morning. I want to take one again tonight, but I’m a little lazyyy.

When was the last time you did anything sexual that went beyond kissing? September.

When was the last time that you did your laundry? I don’t do my own.

When was the last time you had to use public transportation, and what form was it? LOL, like 2017 maybe? Or 2018. Idk, I never use the public transportation in this stinkhole of a country. I used a train to go to Manila, but that was during a dead hour so the train wasn’t crowded and hot like it normally would be.

When’s the last time that you were sick? What was wrong? May. I had a UTI and it disguised itself as a nasty fever that lasted about a week. Didn’t even run into any issues with my urinary tract or anything in that region at all.

When was the last time that you hung out with friends/acquaintances? Virtually, two Saturdays ago. In person, two Fridays ago though that was only with one person.

When was the last funeral you attended? Who passed away? I’ve never attended a funeral, but the last wake I went to was Nacho’s, in September 2019.

When was the last wedding that you attended? Who got married? LMAOOOOOOO. 2007. My mom’s youngest brother and my now-aunt. I’m just waiting for one of my friends to get married now.

When’s the last time that you took a risk? What was the risk? Is stepping away from my ex a risk? I did it over the Christmas season...idk, my mind just had a very sudden shift overnight and I immediately went from seeking to keep in contact with her everyday to not giving even a quarter of a shit and starting to want to live life on my own terms. I certainly think it was pretty bold of me and I’ll always be proud of myself for making such a big step.

When’s the last time you mailed something handwritten? I’ve never mailed anything, period.

When’s the last time you got a haircut? I can’t remember if it was late Feb or early March of last year.

When’s the last time that you went swimming? August 2019.

Where

Where was the last place you drove to, and what did you do there? I went to the new-ish Starbucks at Katip Extension just because I needed new scenery but still be in my comfort zone, which to me will always be Starbucks. I went there supposedly to chill and take a few surveys, but my Viber suddenly got bombarded with work-related messages and for the rest of my time there I was feeling a little stressed and I wasn’t able to finish a single survey.

Where was the last place that you went on vacation to? Tagaytay and Cavite. We’ll be going back to Tagaytay again this weekend, so yay.

Where was the last restaurant you ordered food from? If coffee shops count, Starbucks. If they don’t, I had food from this local Japanese place called Omakase delivered to our house last Saturday.

Where was the last place that you went on a date? Lmfao it was Yabu from like March last year. I won’t be having dates any time soon either, but I’m no longer salty about it.

Where was the last place that you went shopping at? H&M.

Where was the last place you got lost? Somewhere in QC near Tomas Morato, because I had been trying to look for the office of this company who arranged a job interview with me. This isn’t to sound salty because I’m definitely not, but I’m glad I didn’t get a follow-up anything from that company because their office is actually a house (a very nice house, but still a house) and when I was there I failed to get any I’m-finally-a-working-girl-in-a-big-city vibes from it - which to me is important especially at this stage in my life since I’m now finally a full-fledged adult who just gained a deeper level of independence. I aimed to work somewhere that really feels like a legit office/workspace, which my current employer would be able to provide me under normal circumstances.

Where’s the last place that you walked to? My room. I came from the living room a half hour ago.

Where did you last have sex? My bed.

Where was the last place you left your keys? Dining table, as always.

Where’s the last place you got drunk? My room.

Where’s the last place you embarrassed yourself in public? How did you do this? At the parking lot of the aforementioned Starbucks. I was handing my parking ticket to the guard keeping watch of the cars going in and out, and he told me to take care driving, to which I replied, “You too.”

Why

Why did you last cry? I hadn’t cried in a good while and needed a release. Also, because I was in Katip. It was a place I shared with Gab for many years and a place where a lot of fond memories - that I am now forced to shelve to the very back of my head - were made. It was surreal to hang out there and drive in the very same roads I used to take with her, now alone, and everything got overwhelming fairly quickly so I allowed myself to pull over at an isolated spot in our village to let myself cry everything out for a few minutes.

Why did your last relationship fail? She feared commitment and the relationship was becoming too much of a burden for her. Also tbh, all the red flags she had been exhibiting finally came to a head and finally reached a point where they were impossible to resolve. For six years I couldn’t directly talk about marriage, kids, and even my own coming out to my family with her and it was like...what are we even doing anymore? Anyway the tl;dr version of it was that I was apparently becoming a lot of weight to her so she bounced.

Why did you leave your last job? I’ve never left a job.

How

How long has it been since you last visited a doctor? How about a dentist? A doctor, 8 months. A dentist, a year and a month.

How long does gum usually last when you chew it? 10 seconds.

How long can you last in bed? Longer than I’d want to. Being ace, for the most part I run into trouble trying to last, so I’ve always felt bad for my partner about it.

How long did your food last get microwaved for? A minute is my default setting.

How many pages was the last book that you read? Around 225 pages.

How big was the last fish you caught? I’ve never gone fishing.

How long was the last movie you watched? I can’t remember and I can’t be bothered to look up that movie at the moment because it continues to make me sad today.

How long was your last relationship? 4 years. Technically 6 since we had that on-off thing in 2015/2016.

How much did your last grocery bill come to? I don’t do the groceries.

How difficult was your last exam? I remember thinking it was fairly easy but that I definitely would not be getting a 1.00 haha. There was an essay question that I completely failed to review for so I had to bullshit that part. Anyway, the lockdown started like a week later so my final grade never ended up mattering anymore.

Randoms

Did you always get picked last in gym class? We never did picks in PE.

Do you believe that nice guys finish last? Idk.

Can true love really last forever? Sure, but it’s not for everyone.

Give me the first initial of your last name? C.

Something you wait until the last minute to do? Work. I have this certain kind of email that I receive everyday that I immediately have to work on once it’s in my inbox, and I get it at 7:55 AM. I will only get out of bed by 7:54.59.

Have you made your last will and testament? I have one tucked away somewhere in this laptop but I remember making a very conscious effort to hide it in some obscure, hidden folder so that I don’t come back to it often. It seems to have worked because I don’t even remember where it is or what I named it as.

Something in your home that’s on it’s last leg(s)? The electric fan we have in our dining room.

Give us some famous last words! "They couldn't hit an elephant at this distance!" has always been fascinating to me. Sad, but fascinating.

[ohsh1t2wksl8]

#survey #surveys

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godaddywebsitebuilder285 · 3 years

Text

Webwaste

The Web is obese

In 1994, there were 3,000 websites. In 2019, there were estimated to be 1.7 billion, almost one website for every three people on the planet. Not only has the number of websites exploded, the weight of each page has also skyrocketed. Between 2003 and 2019, the average webpage weight grew from about 100 KB to about 4 MB. The results?

“In our analysis of 5.2 million pages,” Brian Dean reported for Backlinko in October 2019, “the average time it takes to fully load a webpage is 10.3 seconds on desktop and 27.3 seconds on mobile.” In 2013, Radware calculated that the average load time for a webpage on mobile was 4.3 seconds.

Study after study shows that people absolutely hate slow webpages. In 2018, Google research found that 53% of mobile site visitors left a page that took longer than three seconds to load. A 2015 study by Radware found that “a site that loads in 3 seconds experiences 22% fewer page views, a 50% higher bounce rate, and a 22% fewer conversions than a site that loads in 1 second, while a site that loads in 5 seconds experiences 35% fewer page views, a 105% higher bounce rate, and 38% fewer conversions.”

The causes of webpage bloat? Images and videos are mainly to blame. By 2022, it’s estimated that online videos will make up more than 82% of all consumer Internet traffic—15 times more than in 2017. However, from the code to the content, everything about Web design has become super-bloated and super-polluting. Consider that if a typical webpage that weighs 4 MB is downloaded 600,000 times, one tree will need to be planted in order to deal with the resulting pollution.

They say a picture paints a thousand words. Well, 1,000 words of text takes up roughly two A4 (210 mm wide and 297 mm long) pages and weighs about 6 KB. You’d place about four images that are 9 cm x 16 cm on two A4 pages. Let’s say these images are well optimized and weigh 40 KB each. (A poorly optimized image could weigh several megabytes.) Even with such high optimization, two A4 pages of images will weigh around 160 KB. That’s 27 times more than the two A4 pages of text. A 30-second video, on the other hand, could easily weigh 3 MB. Videos create massively more pollution than text. Text is the ultimate compression technique. It is by far the most environmentally friendly way to communicate. If you want to save the planet, use more text. Think about digital weight.

From an energy point of view, it’s not simply about page weight. Some pages may have very heavy processing demands once they are downloaded. Other pages, particularly those that are ad-driven, will download with lots of third-party websites hanging off them, either feeding them content, or else demanding to be fed data, often personal data on the site’s visitor. It’s like a type of Trojan Horse. You think you’re accessing one website or app, but then all these other third parties start accessing you. According to Trent Walton, the top 50 most visited websites had an average of 22 third-party websites hanging off them. The New York Times had 64, while Washington Post had 63. All these third-party websites create pollution and invade privacy.

There is a tremendous amount of out-of-date content on websites. I have worked with hundreds of websites where we had to delete up to 90% of the pages in order to start seeing improvements. Poorly written, out-of-date code is also a major problem. By cleaning up its JavaScript code, Wikipedia estimated that they saved 4.3 terabytes a day of data bandwidth for their visitors. By saving those terabytes, we saved having to plant almost 700 trees to deal with the yearly pollution that would have been caused.

If you want to help save the planet, reduce digital weight. Clean up your website. Before you add an image, make sure that it does something useful and it’s the most optimized image possible. Every time you add code, make sure it does something useful and it’s the leanest code possible. Always be on the lookout for waste images, waste code, waste content. Get into the habit of removing something every time you add something.

Publishing is an addiction. Giving a website to an organization is like giving a pub to an alcoholic. You remember the saying, “There’s a book inside everyone”? Well, the Web let the book out. It’s happy days for a while as we all publish, publish, publish. Then…

“Hi, I’m Gerry. I have a 5,000-page website.”

“Hi, Gerry.”

“I used to have a 500-page website, but I had no self-control. It was one more page, one more page… What harm could one more page do?”

Redesign is rehab for websites. Every two to three years some manager either gets bored with the design or some other manager meets a customer who tells them about how horrible it is to find anything on the website. The design team rounds up a new bunch of fake images and fake content for the top-level pages, while carefully avoiding going near the heaving mess at the lower levels. After the launch, everyone is happy for a while (except the customers, of course) because in many organizations what is important is to be seen to be doing things and producing and launching things, rather than to do something useful.

If you must do something, do something useful. That often means not doing, removing, minimizing, cleaning up.

Beware the tiny tasks. We’ve used the Top Tasks method to identify what matters and what doesn’t matter to people, whether they’re buying a car, choosing a university, looking after their health, buying some sort of technology product, or whatever. In any environment we’ve carried it out in—and we’ve done it more than 500 times—there are no more than 100 things that could potentially matter.

In a health environment, these might include symptoms, treatment, prevention, costs, waiting times, etc. When buying a car they might include price, engine type, warranties, service costs, etc. We’ve carried out Top Tasks surveys in some 40 countries and 30 languages, with upwards of 400,000 people voting. In every single survey the same patterns emerge. Let’s say there are 100 potential tasks. People are asked to vote on the tasks that are most important to them. When the results come in, we will find that five of the tasks will get the first 25% of the vote. 50 tasks will get the final 25% of the vote. The top five tasks get as much of the vote as the bottom 50. It’s the same pattern in Norway, New Zealand, Israel, USA, Canada, UK, Brazil, wherever.

The bottom 50 are what I call the tiny tasks. When a tiny task goes to sleep at night it dreams of being a top task. These tiny tasks—the true waste generators—are highly ambitious and enthusiastic. They will do everything they can to draw attention to themselves, and one of the best ways of doing that is to produce lots of content, design, code.

Once we get the Top Tasks results, we sometimes analyze how much organizational effort is going into each task. Invariably, there is an inverse relationship between the importance of the task to the customer and the effort that the organization is making in relation to these tasks. The more important it is to the customer, the less is being done; the less important it is to the customer, the more is being done.

Beware of focusing too much energy, time and resources on the tiny tasks. Reducing the tiny tasks is the number one way you can reduce the number of pages and features. Save the planet. Delete the tiny tasks.

A plague of useless images

I was giving a talk at an international government digital conference once, and I asked people to send me examples of where digital government was working well. One suggestion was for a website in a language I don’t speak. When I visited it, I saw one of those typical big images that you see on so many websites. I thought to myself: I’m going to try and understand this website based on its images.

The big image was of a well-dressed, middle-aged woman walking down the street while talking on her phone. I put on my Sherlock Holmes hat. Hmm… Something to do with telecommunications, perhaps? Why would they choose a woman instead of a man, or a group of women and men? She’s married, I deduced by looking at the ring on her finger. What is that telling me? And what about her age? Why isn’t she younger or older? And why is she alone? Questions, questions, but I’m no Sherlock Holmes. I couldn’t figure out anything useful from this image.

I scrolled down the page. Ah, three more images. The first one is a cartoon-like image of a family on vacation. Hmm… The next one is of two men and one woman in a room. One of them has reached their hand out and placed it on something, but I can’t see what that something is, because the other two have placed their hands on top of that hand. It’s a type of pledge or something, a secret society, perhaps? Two of them are smiling and the third is trying to smile. What could that mean? And then the final picture is of a middle-aged man staring into the camera, neither smiling nor unsmiling, with a somewhat kind, thoughtful look. What is happening?

I must admit that after examining all the visual evidence I had absolutely no clue what this government website was about. So, I translated it. It was about the employment conditions and legal status of government employees. Now, why didn’t I deduce that from the images?

The Web is smothering us in useless images that create lots of pollution. These clichéd, stock images communicate absolutely nothing of value, interest or use. They are one of the worst forms of digital pollution and waste, as they cause page bloat, making it slower for pages to download, while pumping out wholly unnecessary pollution. They take up space on the page, forcing more useful content out of sight, making people scroll for no good reason.

Interpublic is a very large global advertising agency. As with all advertising agencies they stress how “creative” they are, which means they love huge, meaningless, happy-clappy polluting images. When I tested their homepage, it emitted almost 8 grams of CO2 as it downloaded, putting Interpublic in the worst 10% of website polluters, according to the Website Carbon Calculator. (For comparison, the Google homepage emits 0.23 grams.) One single image on its homepage weighed 3.2 MB. This image could easily have been 10 times smaller, while losing nothing in visual appeal. The Interpublic website is like a filthy, rusty 25-year-old diesel truck, belching fumes as it trundles down the Web.

Instead of optimizing images so that they’ll download faster, the opposite is often happening. High-resolution images are a major cost to the environment. If, for example, you move from a 4K resolution image to an 8K one, the file size doesn’t double, it trebles. For example, I saved an image at 4K and it was 6.9 MB. At 8K it was 18 MB.

Digital “progress” and “innovation” often means an increasing stress on the environment. Everything is more. Everything is higher. Everything is faster. And everything is exponentially more demanding of the environment. Digital is greedy for energy and the more it grows the greedier it gets. We need digital innovation that reduces environmental stress, that reduces the digital footprint. We need digital designers who think about the weight of every design decision they make.

We must start by trying to use the option that damages the environment least, and that is text. Don’t assume that images are automatically more powerful than text. Sometimes, text does the job better.

In a test with an insurance company, it was found that a promotion for a retirement product was deemed less accurate when an image of a face was used than when text only was used.

An initiative by the UK government to get people to sign up to become potential organ donors tested eight approaches. The approaches that used images were least effective. Text-only worked best.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Is that the Department of Useless Images?”

“Yes.”

“We have this contact form and we need a useless image for it.”

“How about a family cavorting in a field of spring flowers with butterflies dancing in the background?”

“Perfect.”

There are indeed many situations where images are genuinely useful, particularly when it comes to helping people better understand how a product works or looks. Airbnb, for example, found that its growth only began to accelerate after it invested in getting quality images of the rental properties on offer.

If you need to use images, optimize them and consider using real ones of real people doing real things.

They say a picture paints a thousand words but sometimes it’s a thousand words of crap.

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saasthafricaexploring · 5 years

Text

The TAAG Twilight Zone

In December 2018 Ayanda and I felt our passport itching and threw the Budget Air learnings out of the window and found a flight on Sky Scanner to Argentina. We never thought anything of it, it was on TAAG and we were going to Luanda before dropping into Sao Paulo and finally Buenos Aires. We should have known better - this we found out in January 2019.

Check-in was at 13:30 - it felt strange, OR Tambo was empty! Upon trying to checkin the security at the TAAG counter needed copies of our passports. This was never communicated and the guy wanted to runaway and go make copies unattended. We didn’t allow that to happen. Ayanda ran after him while I waited for what seemed like eternity. They arrived and we walked effortlessly through the customs counters and International Departures was empty.

I recall Ayanda saying:

“Why am I not excited for this? is it because our ticket says Luanda? It Africa its down the road. I don’t feel like I am going anywhere special”

Her words were echoed by the actual experience of TAAG. Learning from my SAA experience to New York, we both placed our bags under the seat in front of us as cleared by the safety video. It was not five minutes later that the air steward came to to fight with me to put it above. We refused saying we we didnt trust anyone and the inflight video confirmed we could do this. The flight staff could not really speak much english and turned to Ayanda and started talking in Portuguese. Angolan airline staff misread her for Angolan.

“Is it because I am black that they think I can understand Portuguese?”, she said to me.

We eventually took off being met with the oldest movies and the USB slots not working. I watched the freshest movie they had about the Chilean Mine accident starring Antonio Banderas and Ayanda, as smart as she is downloaded the latest Ted Bundy documentary on her phones’s Netflix app. This was probably the smartest move as all the other TAAG flights - especially the ones from Luanda to Sao Paulo and back had broken screens and no entertainment. The food was mince and average and landing at Luanda international was just as dry and hot. Shortly before landing Ayanda and I locked eyes on each other as we both saw cockroaches running over the wall of the craft (INSIDE AND HAD FLOWN FROM LUANDA TO BRAZIL!)

The airport had poor WIFI, was extremely hot, accepted no card payments and expected an $8 payment to use any area to smoke in. Needless to say we were excited to get out of the little airport and to Sao Paulo. Upon arriving in Sao Paulo confusion arose as TAAG had not booked our luggage through to Buenos Aires. This meant we had to go through customs (we got stamps!) and fetch our baggage and re-check them in at the Gol counter and go back through customs. The benefit here was there is lots to do at Sao Paulo airport and the people are super friendly. The Brazilian lady at customs even commented on TAAG always doing this to passengers and it is a known problem.

Returning from Sao Paulo to Johannesburg was interesting but we learned a lot about how West Africans view flying - yes we fought to keep our bags at our feet again. Knowing the problems that were ahead of us we started at the departures board seeing an SAA flight departing for Johannesburg and we both cried to be on that flight, knowing the class and the slice of home we would be getting - never mind a direct ticket home

The checkin counter in Buenos Aires could not pick up the TAAG reservations on her side but could book our baggage all the way through to Johannesburg. The kind Argentine lady got empty boarding passes and started hand writing our tickets out for us wit as much information as possible. When we asked the TAAG man at the boarding gate for information about our seats, he harassed us shouting he wanted to see our Yellow Fever certificates. We produced it and he walked away. It took us begging and pleading to eventually get someone to tell us where to sit.

The same mundane mince was served on TAAG and after about five times of asking when the entertainment system would be fixed, I gave up because I was being ignored so badly. The first interesting story came with an old Angolan woman who was sitting in my seat when we boarded. I asked her to move and she did, but then started explaining in broken English that she wanted the aisle seat, despite her having the window and the middle seat. Ayanda had the same. An Angolan woman had her two kids lying over her aisle seat and was horribly disgusted when Ayanda asked if she could have her seat. After declining the old lady my aisle seat she moved into the middle seat and sat right on top of me staring at Ayanda and I, talking fast Portuguese to Ayanda. After take off the old lady decided to go for a walk and didnt return for two hours. I saw her sitting in an open seat in the front of the plane. I told Ayanda to come sit by me as the old lady was not returning. We made ourselves comfortable and then she returned. We gave her Ayanda’s aisle seat as she had wanted but she was terribly unhappy.

After landing at Luanda airport and having all my Duty Free Argentine wine and curios taken by security, all I wanted was a South African to talk to and help me out. I lost everything and was hugely irritated when the Wifi was not working, it was hot and yet again some lady dressed very scantily wanted me to pay $10 to smoke (apparently the price changes as it wants to).

(Note the spelling above)

The second flight made me feel nauseous to have to take but I could not wait to leave.

Ayanda and I sat in the same formation as before (both in aisles) and this time an old lady with a child sat next to me. Ayanda had a group of people who were all related surrounding her. Again the inflight entertainment wasnt working and guess what was for lunch - MINCE! Just after take off the old lady and the child disappeared and I heard the crowd Ayanda was sitting with asking people to move so their family could sit together. The musical chairs ensued and eventually everyone calmed down. I had a whole row to myself, until an Angolan man tapped me on the shoulder to move so he could sit down next to me. He fell asleep instantly. I pulled open the blanket packet to cover myself and all i smelled was cheap perfume of the person who used it before. The blankets were clearly not washed, but just resealed, TAAG’s entertainment system was not working again and there were no inflight magazines so I slept on the seat, equivalent to a cheap chair from Mr Price Home. Just before landing the man next to me got up and positioned himself closest to the door. This movement in the plane reminded me of soccer attendees buying a ticket but not actually sitting in the allocated seat.

Shortly after the man left, the air hostess ripped the poorly perfumed blanket off of me while I was still sleeping and did not say a word. After landing the TAAG staff bid us farewell and said “see you next time” to which we both replied, “NEVER AGAIN”.

It was the worst experience ever and it made me wonder how airlines could provide a structure to allow people to move around as it is clearly something that happens in Africa and what African Premium experiences actually are - i don’t believe this has bene defined.

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wordsdrippinginink · 7 years

Text

Modern Pokemon Go Au, anyone? (*-_-) I can’t believe I forgot this was in my drafts, oops.

Marco gets Pokemon GO downloaded onto his phone three hours after midnight the night it comes out while he asleep.

He wakes up to a post it note on his screen and 20% battery, already knowing it’s Ace’s fault.

‘That Pokémon game that I’ve been waiting for finally came out, but my phone doesn’t support it. :(.’ Ace’s scrawl is even harder to read early in the morning. ‘Our starter is Charmander.’

Marco blinks slowly at the note and understands less than he normally does. Instead, he stumbles to the bathroom to get ready for work, putting the game out of his mind until he’s at the office.

The start-up music is loud, enough so that Marco slaps his hand over the speakers and shakes his head as he thumbs down the volume. He blinks at the tiny person that appears on screen, his head tipped to the side.

The username isn’t AceOspades like Ace normally uses in games, the name FireBirb in the corner by the bar that measured how far away from the next level they were.

Marco backs out the app and pulls up messenger, hoping to get up message to Ace before he went to sleep.

'FireBirb?’

'Fire for me and Birb for you.’ Ace answers almost instantly. 'We are the mighty FireBirb.’

Marco rolls his eyes and goes back in, prodding a button that pulls up the list of Pokémon that Ace had caught the night before.

The highest level is 1350 and it belongs to a fire unicorn named Striker. Beside it is a fire cat, maybe a fox, called Flareon only a hundred points under that. The weakest is a fire lizard with 55 called Phoenix.

He scrolls through the fifty-something Pokémon that Ace caught in the course of the night, a disproportionate amount of them were something that Marco would use the word fire to describe.

Marco jolts when his phone buzzes, bouncing in horror and exiting back to the map to find a fire dog, like the one that Ace had named Stephan, on the map before him. He taps and startles when it appears closer and he throws the balls that appear at the bottom of the screen and catches it. Marco grins.

There’s a strange thing at the front of the building in yellow, Marco taps it and blinks as he appears to get himself in the middle of something, tapping at the screen until he wins. When he gets back to the map, the things is gray and empty, he taps it again and next thing he knows the thing belongs to him?

“Morning,” Izo says breezing past only half an hour late, “Has Pops come in yet?”

“No.” Marco answers as a purple rat looking thing appears on screen. “Neither has Thatch. Or Curiel.”

Izo sighs, “Thatch is always late,” He pulls out his own phone and starts doing something. “Ugh.”

“Ugh?”

“The gym at the office is held by Valor.” Izo pulls a face. “Who is FireBirb?”

Marco blinks, already knowing what he has to do, “We have a gym?”

“In the Pokémon GO app,�� Izo answers, “We have a gym and two convenient PokeStops. Played a bit last night.”

“That’s what Ace downloaded onto my phone.” Marco says slowly.

Izo laughs, “Ace needs to get a new phone.”

Ace lounges over Marco’s bed, phone in his hand and Pokémon music loud in Marco’s room. His feet kicking back and forth.

“Sabo said that FireBirb took over the gym at your work,” Ace says going through everything that Marco caught at work. “Good job.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I just tapped the screen. FireBirb?”

Ace hums, “Yeah. Normally you don’t play any of the games that I play, so I figured it wouldn’t be cool to use my personal username and you were sleeping. So the FireBirb came to life.”

“You’re ridiculous. And a fox appeared.”

“Eebee!” Ace shouts tapping horrified and relaxing only after it was caught. “I need all the Eebees, Marco.”

“Eebees?”

Ace nods, “E-e-v-e-e. Eebee.”

“Wouldn’t that be Eevee?”

“Shush, they are Eebees. They are cute little Eebees, Marco, the cutest.” Ace insists.

Marco rolls his eyes, “ So Eebees. Why do you need all the Eebees?”

Ace bounces upright on the bed, eyes glowing, “The Eebee, Marco, is the very best Pokémon to have because it will evolve into any of three Pokémon.”

“Wait, what’s evolving?”

“Most Pokémon can change into other Pokémon,” Ace pulls up Flareon. “This was once an innocent Eebee.”

Huh, Marco tilts his head to the side and stares at it, the Eevee was pretty cool.

“And in later games, the Eebee gained five more evolutions. But don’t worry about them,” Ace assures. “They aren’t in the game.”

Marco nods and understands nothing.

Pokémon is fun, for all that Marco isn’t too sure about what happens in the game. It doesn’t always make much sense but it isn’t the worst time.

Besides, it means that Ace is around more and Marco can get behind that.

“FireBirb is going down today!” Izo declares throwing his fist up. “Today, I, Flintlock, shall take this gym!”

Marco ignores Izo’s shouts and checks the paperwork in his inbox. There’s a file that Pops wants double checked for errors before they send it to the customer.

“No!” Thatch shouts rolling his chair into the walk space between Marco and Izo’s cubicles. “Team Mystic can’t take down this menace. I, seachef, will lay claim to this gym."

Marco rolls his eyes and checks the gym curiously. The Flareon in the gym is over 1000 cp and there's a second one that Ace set up that's bordering on 2000 that he can use to wipe them out with or put in. The gym won't leave his hands.

He wins.

He doesn't even have to change the Flareons out. Which is nice. There's another gym down by Ace's station that he wanted to take over.

'How r the kids' Ace texts later after both Izo and Thatch have lost horribly.

It’s a joke of a sentence, something said for a laugh, but it makes Marco’s heart clench and something warm curl in his chest.

‘Fine, we still own the gym.’

‘My eebees?’

Marco smiles, taking the time to take a snapshot of the Eevees and send them to him, having caught two more of them because of the Poke-stop that is just at the edge of his building and his character is well within the range of. It’s kept well lured by the Pizza place that it represents.

‘EEBEES!’ Ace exclaims. ‘Look at all of them!’

‘They’re fine,’

Ace sends him a text that’s full of random letters and symbols, as if he tapped random buttons and then hit send.

‘Yes, they’ll be ready to go when you get home dear.’

‘Thks Darling!’

Marco drops his phone onto his desk and groans.

“Kids!” Ace shouts taking Marco’s phone before he’s gotten through the door. “How are you, babies?”

“I evolved the weird crab, now it is a bigger, weirder crab,” Marco says tugging off his shoes and dropping his sweater over the back of the couch.

Ace bounces excitedly, “Aw, one of you grew up!”

“I don’t think they can understand you,” Marco resists the urge to call Ace sweetheart because that would be going too far.

“Don’t listen to him, dad’s just cranky because he’s been at work all day.”

Marco bites the inside of his cheek, “Hungry?”

“I am ashamed that you even thought to ask that,” Ace returns sliding Marco’s phone into his back pocket. “How was your day?”

“Long, Izo tried to take over our gym and I beat them horribly, you?”

Ace slides into one of the stools at the breakfast nook, “Slept, harassed Luffy into doing the dishes, actually saw Sabo while he was also awake. Worried about our children.”

Marco ignores the flutter of his heart, the butterflies in his stomach as they eat and Ace launches into some story about something. Marco misses out on the point of it and doesn’t bother to ask.

“I love your bed,” Ace groans, flopping down on it as Marco moves to his desk, dishes in the dishwasher and kitchen cleaned. “It’s the best.”

“Shoes!” Marco warns, turning to catch Ace spread out over his sheets and turning to his computer quickly.

It’s Ace’s fault, all of this because now Marco is imagining them as married and he can’t. He’s spent years shoving aside this stupid crush and he won’t have this ruined because of a joking comment.

Ace frowns at Marco’s phone, the Poke-stops closest to the station are all lured and there’s plenty of Pokemon around to keep him from going crazy since his other duties are done.

“You okay?” Jiru asks, dropping into a seat. “Brought you dinner, courtesy of Thatch.”

“Thanks,” Ace grins, “I’m good. Just running on less sleep than normal, I wanted to see Sabo today, you know?”

Jiru laughs, “That’s what you get for working such polar opposite work hours. He’s still working for that Politician, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, Lu’s dad.”

“That is not a tired face, however, I would know I have more siblings than you have fingers. That’s a mooning face.” Jiru states with the ease of a man who knows he is right. “Tell me.”

“I might have made a joke about family, or about us being together, and he played along.”

Jiru stares at him, “You are adorable. That is adorable. I need to tell Marco about this,” Ace pales. “Oh,” Jiru grins, looking far too pleased with himself, “but you mean Marco, don’t you?”

“Hate you,” Ace mutters. “Should ban you from the station.”

“You can try,” Jiru promises, “But I think you’ll break in under a week, you like the lunches too much.”

Ace doesn’t deny it, it’s not inaccurate after all.

“Are you here to harass me too? Because I’m gonna have to take my lunch and tell you to leave.”

Jiru grins, “You could, or you could let me stay and tease you about your crush.”

“It’s not a crush!” Ace shouts, ducking his head as the rest of the station glances down to them. “It’s not,” He hisses softly.

“It’s not?” Jiru asks. “Then what is it?”

Ace doesn’t have an answer and Jiru doesn’t push. He waves Jiru off, staring at the screen of Marco’s phone as he waits for his shift to finish.

Marco groans when Ace bounces onto his bed, “I’m suppose to have the day off, which means sleeping in, not being woken up by you.”

“I wanted to show you what I caught at work!”

Marco holds his hand out for his phone, thumbing down the brightness and blinking sleepily at the screen as he scrolls through to look at whatever it was that Ace had caught.

He blinks, reordering the Pokemon when he catches changes to some of their names. He laughs, dragging Ace closer, grinning.

“Really?”

Ace grins hopefully, “So?”

“I think we have to date before I marry you,” Marco answers, kissing him. “But if you want, you can try again after dinner tonight?”

“It’s a date,” Ace agrees, “Tonight.”

“Tonight. Now let me sleep, some of us are still tired,” Marco yawns throwing a blanket over Ace’s face.

“I’m taking the kids for the morning!” Ace laughs taking Marco’s phone as he rolls off the bed. “Expect them back by noon!”

“They better be well rested!” Marco shouts after him. “I don’t want to have to deal with cranky kids!”

Ace shouts something affirmative back as Marco sighs and stares at the wall of his room. There was no way he was getting back to sleep anytime soon.

#pokemon go au #marcoace #in which neither of them can ask the other out #but they share a pokemon go account #yall wanna know how long this has been in drafts?#since about a week after pokemon go came out #because i'm bad at these things #but i wanted to write it.#i hope you enjoy #word's writings

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deadlydollies13 · 7 years

Text

The Potion Master’s Grace Ch. 10

Grace was apprehensive at first, but she didn’t know why she was. Severus had adopted her after all, making him her father. So why did she pace back and forth in her room in the morning for twenty minutes contemplating it? But when she went downstairs and called out, “Morning, dad!” and Severus hid his smile behind his paper, everything was okay. She spent the rest of the morning using the word “dad” as much as she could. “Why do you keep saying ‘dad’?” Severus wasn’t annoyed or anything by it, just curious because he counted thirty-three times she used “dad” in the span of breakfast.

“Well,” Grace said, taking a sip of her coffee. “I’ve gone the past eight years without really using the word ‘dad.’ No ‘Hey, dad, how’s it going?’ or ‘See ya later, dad,’ or anything of the sorts. I’m making up for lost time, dad.” Severus just smiled, “Thirty-seven now.” “Let’s see if I can make it to one hundred! Hey- what’s Malfoy doing on the front cover?” she said, pointing to the Daily Prophet. “Professing his undying love for you,” he joked, but Grace could tell he was just trying to avoid telling her. “No, really. Lemme see,” she tried reaching for the paper, but he just pulled it out of her reach. “It’s nothing for you to concern yourself with, Grace,” but that just made her worry even more. “Yeah, okay, like that’s ever stopped me. Give- me- that- paper!” finally, she snatched the paper out of Severus’ hands and read the front cover.

Malfoy Heir Testifies Against Father In Trial Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, testifies against his own father at the Wizengamot for Lucius’ crimes against Muggles and Muggle-borns. Malfoy was also charged with involvement with Death Eaters and allegiance to He Who Shall Not Be Named. Draco Malfoy was found innocent of any involvement with father’s activities and is not an accessory to his crime. Narcissa Malfoy will face trial on a date to be determined. Lucius Malfoy will spend life in Azkaban Prison.

“What the bloody hell?” Grace said, after reading the article. She honestly couldn’t believe what she was reading. Yes, she knew Draco’s family was a bunch of self-righteous, Pureblood maniacs. But they had such an important social reputation, one that Draco cared about way too much at school, to ever jeopardize that and shame their family. “Did you know this about Draco’s dad?” Severus just looked down, in a shameful way. So yes, he did know, or at least he knew something. And he was ashamed for knowing so much. Grace decided not to press, just like Severus didn’t push her to open up about her past. So she changed the subject, “Is Draco going to be okay? It’s really hard to go up to the Witness stand and speak out against a parent.” She would know, she had to do the same thing eight years ago, and she lost both parents as a result. At least Draco still had his mom around. “Draco will be just fine, Gracie. Now, give me back the paper. I wasn’t finished reading it.”

Grace was feeling pretty bad for Malfoy. Sure, he had been a twat to her and Luna since day one, but the situation he was in was just horrible. That is, until the next morning when she walked downstairs to find the blonde sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. When their eyes met, both teenagers screamed, “What the hell are you doing here?!” Inside his study, Severus could feel a headache coming on. “My mother sent me here for the day to get away from everything. Uncle Sev lives in the middle of nowhere,” Draco said first. Grace’s eyes went wide, “Uncle Sev?” “He’s my godfather. Now, why are you here?” “I live here, dumbass! That’s why I would be coming from upstairs! Dad!!” Draco’s jaw could’ve hit the floor. Dad? Since when did Uncle Sev have a kid and since when was it Grace McClivert? Severus reluctantly came out of his study, “Grace Audrey, for the love of Merlin, please keep your voice down. And watch the language.” Grace’s shoulders sunk a little, “Sorry. But, you never told me Draco Malfoy was your godson! That would’ve been some pretty vital information to share, don’t’cha think?” He just smirked, “It never really came up.” Draco cut in, “And it would’ve been nice to let me know you had a kid! Especially ‘Fireball’.” “Really? I thought you would have been pleasantly surprised to see Grace.” Both teenagers said in embarrassed unison, “Shut up.” Thankfully, their bickering had settled down by the end of breakfast, and they had resorted to talking about all of the Quidditch defeats they had over each other. So far, Grace’s were more impressive. They had gotten so tired of fighting that finally, they ended up sitting on the couch, on their phones like normal teenagers. Really, that’s all Severus wanted for the both of them. His godson, unfortunately, never really had a fighting chance as the Dark Lord has had an interest in Draco as he’s gotten older. He was afraid that Draco was going to cornered and left without a choice one day. But he also wanted to keep any details about the Dark Lord that weren't found in the papers away from Grace. She was far too curious to willingly stay out of things, so Severus would just have to keep it a secret. And Merlin forbid if any of the Death Eaters, or the Dark Lord, found out that Severus had adopted a Muggle-born daughter. Well, Severus didn’t want to think about it; it was too painful. So, he went down to his potions lab to take his mind off of it. Meanwhile, Grace was filling Draco’s phone up with all of the social media apps he had been missing. For such a privileged child, he had a bare home screen. It had only consisted of the apps that Apple wouldn’t let you delete, plus he had no music downloaded. So, Grace, mostly to amuse herself, had Draco sign up for Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, and even Tumblr. She also showed him iTunes store and he was very excited that now he could occupy himself with mindless games and every song known to man. But Grace kept thinking about how Severus was Draco’s godfather. How Draco had had Severus in his life, involved in it too, way longer than Grace had. How Draco and Severus’ bond was much deeper than his and Grace’s. How even though Grace was now his daughter, Severus had probably always looked at Draco like his own. And apparently, her thinking showed outwardly. “What’s wrong, Little Red?” Draco asked. Completely ignoring the nickname, Grace just shook her head, “Nothing. Just thinking, is all.” “Thinking about what? You look sad all of a sudden.” Well, Gee, thanks, but you’re the reason why. “It’s just- don’t laugh, okay? But, what was it like, growing up with Severus in your life?” Draco smiled, it was a kind, understanding smile. For once, it wasn’t a mocking smile towards her, and it was actually pretty breathtaking. “He was… Well, he was the ‘fun’ uncle, I guess. I’d always cling to him, when I was real little, of course. Used to wrap myself up in his robes and say, ‘Look, I’m you, Uncle Sev!’ and he wouldn’t get annoyed like he usually does, he’d just laugh. I think before I was born, he was sad or lonely, I don’t know. My mother used to always make a big deal whenever he'd smile or laugh, but I was always the reason for him doing it. He’d let me help him brew potions, but not really. See, he’d give me jobs like making sure the cauldron didn’t over-boil or something like that. When I got a bit older, I was allowed to stir, and it was like, the greatest achievement I’ve ever received. He was really great. I mean, is really great. You obviously see that Hogwarts Snape is completely different than how he truly is. He’s always been sort of like a dad to me,” and then Draco caught a glimpse of Grace’s eyes, how they were almost twinkling, because yes, someone sees that Severus Snape has a kind heart to those he loves and someone out there shares the love and adoration Grace has for the man, but mostly in that twinkle, Grace was imagining herself put in Draco’s space. She was trying her best to rewrite her own history. If she could just replace all of the bad memories of her past, of her biological father, with fake, made-up, or stolen memories of Severus, then maybe she could breathe a little easier. “He’s your dad now. Never thought I’d see the day but, here it is.” “I never had that…with anyone really. And a dad is supposed to be so important to a little girl! A dad’s supposed to be the first man she ever loves and carry her on his shoulders and teach her how to dance with her standing on his feet and do the daddy-daughter dances and all that stuff you only find in fairy tales! But, I couldn’t have that because my dad was a horrible person. And I had made myself okay with the fact that I would walk down the aisle on my wedding day alone and I’d have no dance with my dad and- Oh, look at me being absolutely ridiculous and spilling my heart out, I’m probably boring you to death.” He shook his head, “No, I’m not bored. But you are being ridiculous because you do have that now. And you may not have gotten the growing-up aspect, you have the rest-of-your-life aspect. You get to make all of the memories now.” Grace, as emotionally focused on her new dad as she was, couldn’t help but be shocked at how nice Draco was being to her. She had never known him to be genuinely nice, only ironically or fake to her, “Thanks, Draco. That… means a lot. Just, let’s not tell anyone, okay?” Draco agreed, but they were unaware that someone already knew. It was Severus, who was about to go check on the teenagers to make sure they hadn’t mauled each other but stopped himself to listen in on their conversation. His heart swelled with two emotions as he listened, something he definitely wasn’t used to; one emotion was pride for his godson, because he had seen how grown up and mature he had become. And the other was love and adoration for his daughter, and whether he realized it or not, he too had begun to rewrite his history, adding just a few more years he could have had with Grace if the tiny, freckled, redheaded little girl had waltzed into his life sooner.

“So, how’s Luna?” Draco asked, much to Grace’s surprise. She had never heard Draco use anything else to call Luna but “Loony Lovegood,” and she had thought Draco could care less about her anyway. “She’s, um, she’s doing well. I get to see her a lot more during the summer now, living in the Wizarding World and all. She’s over a lot. In fact, I think she’s been here more than she’s been at home,” Luna’s dad was always obsessing over The Quibbler and has always been a bit too neurotic anyway. She could understand why Luna would just want to get out of the house some days. Draco just smirked before he asked, “Has she talked to Rolf Scamander yet?” Oh no, “How did you know about that?” Great, now Malfoy was going to tease Luna endlessly in school this year for her crush! “Oh, please. Everyone knows they like each other but are too afraid to do anything about it! I keep telling Rolf that if he doesn’t ask her out or something soon, he’s going to miss his chance, but every time he gets close to her he flakes.” “Wait, how do you know all of this?” “Obviously because Rolf told me! Honestly, Little Red, do you really believe I have nothing better to do than to stick my nose in other people’s business and stalk their lives all day?” Grace shrugged, “I actually don’t know much about you, I guess. Like the fact that you’re my dad’s godson or that you’re friends with a Hufflepuff.” “Rolf and I grew up together. My parents thought it best that the Malfoys’ and Scamanders’ have good connections. We’re actually quite good friends,” Draco replied. “Then how come I never see you hanging out in school? Or even say ‘Hi,’ to each other? You completely ignore each other, and why? because you’re in separate houses?” Draco said nothing, just stared at the redheaded girl because she was right. For Draco, school was a popularity game. He had to only associate with Purebloods, especially those who were in his own house. But even more so, he could never get a chance to talk to the Muggle-born Ravenclaw Seeker he had admired from afar. But now, since his father was sent away, and his mother was the slightest bit more lenient towards others of lesser blood, it was his chance to show her that he wasn’t a bigoted bully, it was all a mask; a mask he wished he never had to dawn in the first place. And now he was afraid that he had dug his grave too deep and she’d never forgive him for his harsh words. He remembered the first time he met the tiny Ravenclaw.

It was Grace’s second year, Draco’s third, and he had heard about Ravenclaw’s new Seeker, how they were small and agile and had a lot up their sleeves. He just didn’t know who they were. Until the day of the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin match; the Ravenclaw team had just walked into the Great Hall, and the Ravenclaw table broke out in cheers. There was the Team Captain, Davies, then the other two Chasers, Stretton, and Burrow. Their two Beaters, Inglebee and a new member, Samuels. Their Keeper was new as well, Page. The boys were all fine, tall, and strong-looking. Draco never saw any girls on the team, however. That is, until, he saw a small girl in the Ravenclaw uniform, with the number 13 on her back. Her bright red curls bounced with the spring in her step. The girl was significantly shorter than the rest of her team. She stopped in the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables right next to Draco. He turned to her, figuring she had some smart remark to say to him. But instead, her back was turned to him, and she was talking to the Lovegood girl that sat directly behind him. And then something clicked in Draco, the new Seeker, the one he would have to fight for the Snitch, was the little redheaded, Muggle girl he found strangely cute. “You look so cool, Grace! I know you’re going to do great today at the match. Maybe Ravenclaw will even beat Slytherin!” the pale blonde girl said. Draco scoffed, “You’re the new Seeker? I thought you had to be a certain height to play Quidditch?” He laughed, and his friends laughed with him. Grace just turned to him with a lop-sided smile. Her blue eyes shone brighter in contrast to the royal blue and bronze uniform. Draco wouldn’t have blamed her if she spat back at him, or even slapped him. But instead, she held her hand out. And Draco, dumbstruck, took it and shook her hand. “Good luck today, Draco. I’m really excited I finally get to play on the same Pitch as you,” she had adoration in her eyes and a disgusting amount of kindness in her sweet voice. It annoyed Draco, he wanted her to be angry with him, it would make getting over his silly little crush on her. When he finally snapped out of the trance she put him under, he pulled his hand away from her’s, “Yeah, well, I don’t need luck! Slytherin is undefeated.” Grace, to Draco’s infuriation, just smiled wider at him and sat next to her friend. Draco, soon enough, would eat his words. Ravenclaw, for the first time in years, had defeated Slytherin 170-50. Grace McClivert was soon one of the most popular Ravenclaws in her house. Not just for the fact that she had caught the Snitch, but she had caught it with such style and grace. After she shoved Draco out of the way to get a lead on the Snitch, which Draco will never admit, she shoved pretty hard, the Snitch had flown straight up into the sky. Grace tipped her broomstick up and was vertically flying after the Snitch, but then, the Snitch evened out for a second, then made its way straight down to the middle of the Pitch. Grace, stupidly, followed it the same way she came up, vertically. It was perhaps the most heart-dropping scene Draco had ever seen, and he couldn’t do anything but watch. As she got closer to the ground, and it was certain she would crash, there were screams from the stands, and the faculty stood ready with their wands if something should happen. But at the last second, the Snitch made a sharp turn right, and so did Grace, catching the Snitch. The crowd cheered, she did a few swoops and flips, and Draco just sat there on his broom like an idiot. Of course, while Grace was being lifted on her team members’ shoulders, being congratulated by Professor Flitwick and a few other professors, Draco was getting eaten alive by his teammates. Although it wasn’t her fault, he had to blame somebody, so he blamed Grace. As if things weren’t bad enough, he saw his godfather and head of house, Professor Snape, walk towards him. He thought he’d for sure get detention for life for ruining Slytherin’s winning streak, but he walked right past Draco, as if he wasn’t there, and made his way towards Grace. Draco got a little closer to hear what their conversation could possibly be about. “Miss McClivert!” Grace whipped her head around, her hair following, and smiled brightly, “Hi, Professor Snape! Did’ya see me? Wasn’t that cool? Look, I caught the Snitch and Roger Davies said that I should keep it so I have a memory of my first game won.” She was obviously overjoyed and proud of her win. For her, it finally meant that she was fitting into this strange new world. Snape was taken back, but he should have known by now that Grace McClivert was the least bit scared of him. In fact, Grace was put off more by Professor Trelawney than Snape. He sighed, “Yes, I saw you almost crash into the ground with such speed and force that would have killed you!” Draco couldn’t believe it, he was yelling at her because she had put herself in danger, not because she had put the Slytherin team to shame. What bullshit! “But, Professor, I’m not hurt! Promise!” “I’m still taking you to Madame Pomfrey to get checked out since your head of house doesn’t seem concerned. Maybe you’re not physically hurt, but mental enough to pull a stunt like that!” However annoyed Snape was with Grace, she just giggled. “Okay, Professor, if it’ll make you feel better,” then Grace glanced off and her eyes met Draco’s. “Just wait one minute, Professor? I gotta do something.” Grace made her way over to Draco, who now had a slight blush across his cheeks, “I’m sorry for shoving you, Draco. I hope I didn’t bruise you or anything. You were really great today, though.” Her words were sincere, and she had that stupid smile on her face, and it only made Draco angrier. “You’re supposed to be aggressive in Quidditch. And you didn’t hurt me, don’t flatter yourself. Stupid Muggle,” Draco spat. The light behind Grace’s eyes changed as she narrowed them and clenched her fists, “Fine! Then next time, I won’t hold back!” and she stomped away. Draco got an earful from his uncle, not for losing, but for being mean to Grace when she was showing good sportsmanship even though she had totally whipped Draco’s ass. And Grace didn’t hold back the next Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin match. In fact, she had no qualms with shoving Draco into a wooden post on the stands and giving him a concussion. Ravenclaw beat them again, and Draco got beat up by his teammates. But even worse, he had completely ruined any feelings Grace may or may not have had for Draco. She only referred to him as “Malfoy” after that, and gave him dirty glances whenever their eyes met. And still, Draco never got over his ridiculous crush on her.

“What are you thinking about?” Grace snapped her fingers in front of Draco’s face, grabbing his attention. “Hm? Oh, nothing. What are we watching?” Grace had since fetched her laptop and there was a movie playing in front of them. “Say Anything. It’s my favorite movie. Like, everyone needs someone like Lloyd Dobbler in their lives,” she didn’t take her eyes off of the screen as she spoke like she would miss something she had missed before. The movie was actually pretty good, for being a Muggle film. But Draco was more entertained by watching Grace watch the film. Her little smiles and the twinkle in her eyes. Occasionally she would whisper a little tidbit about the film or John Cusak, who she had a crush on when she was twelve and spent the whole summer binge-watching all of his films. Or Draco’s favorite, when she’d murmur, “This is my favorite part,” even though she said it multiple times, so Draco actually didn't know what her true favorite scene was.

#harry potter au #modern au #harry potter #the Potion Masters Grace #severus snape #original character #Luna Lovegood #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x original character

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professorlockhart · 7 years

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realized that i haven’t written a 2017 reading goals so here we go:

read 35 books: last year i had a goal to read 55 books and i only read 37 books. this time i’m keeping it real, knowing the 3rd year of my uni (which will start after the summer) will be hard, and knowing that i might not have as much free time as i had last year, i’m gonna lower it to 35. if at the middle of the year i find that i will easily reach the number, i’ll raise it to 40 or even 50. 50 is actually more ideal for me, but we’ll see.

review all my books on goodreads: i used to write my thoughts on mini reviews on wrap up posts at my book blog, but since i don’t blog anymore i plan on writing my thoughts on the book on goodreads. i hope i can take the time to gather my thoughts, form them into intelligible sentences and write and post them on goodreads. it’s a great way to help myself when i’m looking back at the books i’ve read, and also to maybe help others find their next favourite book! i also like bookmarking special quote i might like, and adding them to my review at the end of the review.

read 8 nonfiction books: i try to branch out in genres and lately i’ve been in the mood for something not fictional. i hope i can read more nonfiction this year, starting it with small stuff like memoirs or fun autobiographies, but then moving on to books discussing topics or themes i’m interested in but have no clue about, just to get me more educated.

buy a kindle and read more ebooks: so last year my beautiful ereader got stolen, and for the last like 5 months of 2016 i read ebooks on my phone which sucks. until now my ebook read count rate has reduced significantly because of the absence of an ereader, and that has a horrible effect. i’m not motivated to download ebooks anymore because my hard disk was also stolen, meaning all my ebooks that i’ve illegally downloaded were gone as well, and meaning that i have to rebuild my ebook empire. not to mention i’ve been thinking of buying a kindle this time (the 8th edition one), but i never gotten round to it because i don’t have the money. but instead i would buy physical books, which isn’t really good for my wallet either. i think a €100 spent on kindle to read free books for at least 3 years ahead will be a better investment than buying €5 novels once every 2 weeks or so. hopefully once i have a kindle i’ll be more motivated to read ebooks and increase my reading count, cause then i’ll be able to more easily bring the kindle on my bag wherever i go so i can read more when i’m not at home.

join readathons: i looove readathons, i used to join alot of them cause i had so much free time for long periods of time and i lived alone so i don’t have any social obligations so i can just disappear for 2 days inside my house, reading, without having to find excuses. now i have housemates, i have a boyfriend, not to mention schoolwork, and it’s hard to find 24 or 48 hours to spare just to read.

post more on tumblr with the tag teaandpaperbacks about my thoughts on reading, make tbrs, or goals, or small bookish rants the way i would do on my old blog but with less effort and time: wherever i go, i always come back to tumblr, and specifically this blog. i post everything here, so i thought instead of reviving my super high-maintenance wordpress and having to write long thought-out articles there and spending hours looking at other people’s blogs, worrying about followers/views, and making headers or icons for the blog, why not just rant, casually, not worrying about what other people think, not worrying about spelling mistakes or having to use capital letters here? so that’s what im planning to do. hopefully i can keep this up for the whole year. i’m not gonna put a set number of posts i need to make per week or month or anything, but hopefully i’ll remember to post my thoughts (bookish ones) here, and maybe tbrs on readathons etc here!

2016 bookish resolutions i posted on my blog (https://teaandpaperbacks.wordpress.com/2015/12/26/2016-bookish-resolutions/)

read 55 books: only read 37 books

borrow more books from the library: it started well because i borrowed like at least 5 books from the library but then i lost interest and mostly read books i own. buuut i did borrow a lot of books from my friends as well.

post at least twice on the blog: it worked really well until i got an internship, moved houses, got a boyfriend, had a social life, and everything sort of went spiraling downwards and i abandoned my blog for 6 months until now.

reach 500 followers on the blog: i think i almost reached 500 (i’m currently at around 400 something), and im sure if i had been active the past 6 months i would’ve had even more.

read at least 2 hrs a week: so i used to have an app to time the amount of time i spend reading, but i sort of stopped doing that, but i think i mostly read more than 2 hours a week on the first half of the year, but as i mentioned before, life happened, i got busy, and on the last months i’d probably only read like 1 hour a week

explore different genres: i think i achieved this one, i read more nonfiction, more memoirs, more classics as well, and more contemporaries, less young adult and more adult slash literary fiction

write more book reviews: i think i achieved this one as well! i write reviews for almost all of the books i read and put them on goodreads, so that’s nice.

join more readathons: i have no empirical data on this one to compare between 2015 and 2016, i’m pretty sure i joined at least 3 readathons on 2016 though. there’s the dewey 24 hours, my own 48 hours readathon, the bout of books readathon, and another one i also joined. it was so much fun. i considered adding this to the 2017 goals as well, but im not sure now that i don’t blog anymore if i’m still gonna join. plus, im not sure i have the time to read straight for 24 hours anymore (i know i sound so pretentiously busy but i really am busy, having a boyfriend changes everything)

#tea and paperbacks #toilet paper

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suzanneshannon · 4 years

Text

Webwaste

The Web is obese

“Hi, I’m Gerry. I have a 5,000-page website.”

“Hi, Gerry.”

“I used to have a 500-page website, but I had no self-control. It was one more page, one more page… What harm could one more page do?”

If you must do something, do something useful. That often means not doing, removing, minimizing, cleaning up.

A plague of useless images

In a test with an insurance company, it was found that a promotion for a retirement product was deemed less accurate when an image of a face was used than when text only was used.

An initiative by the UK government to get people to sign up to become potential organ donors tested eight approaches. The approaches that used images were least effective. Text-only worked best.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Is that the Department of Useless Images?”

“Yes.”

“We have this contact form and we need a useless image for it.”

“How about a family cavorting in a field of spring flowers with butterflies dancing in the background?”

“Perfect.”

If you need to use images, optimize them and consider using real ones of real people doing real things.

They say a picture paints a thousand words but sometimes it’s a thousand words of crap.

Webwaste published first on https://deskbysnafu.tumblr.com/

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