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cloudshapedpatch · 3 years

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take my money (take my heart, too)

the awkward julie & luke sugar daddy/baby au no one asked for

rated teen and up for swearing and semi-mature themes such as the concept of a sugar daddy/baby arrangement

no smut! insane tooth-rotting fluff tho

slow burn juke

and disaster lesbians flarrie side plot and (eventual) willex

also a coffee shop au because i said so

read on ao3 (chapter 1 and tag list below the cut)

* * * *

Julie is nervous. No, nervous is an understatement. Her knees bounce uncontrollably under the table, shaky fingers twirling the straw in her iced coffee. And the knot in her stomach seems to grow ever tighter.

She pulls out her phone to check the time for the third time this minute. How is it still 10:57 am? Just as she is about to put her phone back in her pocket, it buzzes with an incoming text from her best friend/roommate, Flynn.

Flynn: calm down

Julie smiles despite herself, turning around to look at her friend a few tables away. Thank goodness for her friend, willing to throw away a morning to make sure she is safe and comfortable on her blind date. She shoots Flynn a small smile. Flynn, to their credit, is taking their job very seriously, wearing an absurdly large sunhat and sunglasses, sipping on a mug of hot tea with a decoy book under her nose.

Julie turns to anxiously watch the baristas, moving around the small space with ease, mixing drinks hot and cold alike. Twirling around each other without even looking. And she lets her mind wander.

How had she gotten here? Waiting for a man whom she had never spoken to, let alone seen? And she isn’t counting their text messaging. Not really. Not even if they had been talking for weeks. Not even if they regularly stayed up well into the night just to keep talking to the other. Not even if he had her blushing furiously, toes curling from giddiness and hiding under her sheets, smiling at the flirtatious speech bubbles on her phone for longer than she’d like to admit.

Because that doesn’t count. She has never heard his voice. She has never seen what he looked like. Anyone could be a charmer, and she is undoubtedly nervous about who she might find walking through the door and towards her.

How had she gotten here? It is a simple question, and one she has the answer to. Doesn’t mean she likes it. She had made an offhand comment to Flynn at work one day. Julie is sick of working 12 hour days in the cafe (not this one. she would be dumb to meet a stranger in her workplace) and barely scraping by. She had joked she needed someone to fund her shopping sprees.

Flynn had suggested a sugar daddy.

Julie wants to bang her head on the table. Past Julie is an idiot. And now Present Julie is going to pay the price.

Why had she let Flynn convince her to download that dumb app?

(Because she has a virtually useless college degree, bills to pay, and school loans creeping up on her and she is cutting back every month. Living in L.A. isn’t cheap.

And, if she really lets herself think about it, Julie is lonely.)

She checks her phone again, pleased to find it is finally 11 am. He should be here any minute. Luke should be here any minute.

Is it a red flag that he had only been willing to share his first name? Should it have concerned her that he didn’t have a profile picture on his online dating account? Is she dumb for letting him change the subject every time she asked about his job? Solid ‘maybe’s to all of those, but! After they had started talking, they had instantly clicked. He loves music almost as much as she did, maybe even more. They bonded over that, and many other things.

This is fine.

She straightens her posture, glancing down at her dress to make sure all is in order. It’s baby blue with golden sunflowers all over, and she had slipped a cropped denim jacket on top, the one with patches of all her favorite bands. She fusses with the loose curls hanging by her face, her hair pulled into a half bun at the top of her head, leaving a clear view of her sunflower earrings. It’s the perfect outfit to be noticed in, she had told him she’d be wearing blue and sunflowers, certainly he wouldn’t miss her.

Whenever he decided to show up.

Wait. he would show up, wouldn’t he?

Of course he would.

...Right?

Before she can get too far down that rabbit hole, the chime above the door is jingling, and Julie has to fight hard not to turn and see who it is. The anticipation crawls up her spine and settles in her neck, jaw tingling.

A man comes in, approaching the counter with confidence in his step. One barista takes one look at him and gapes like a fish, turning to a coworker to nonchalantly point at him. Both girls look at each other and quietly squeal, letting one of the male cashiers help him.

Must be attractive, she thinks, and she isn’t disappointed by what she can see from the back. His sleeves are short, showing off his muscular arms and he’s tall. She’s always liked tall men.

Supposedly handsome stranger orders his drink and waits at the counter for it. One of the girls hands it to him with a gleeful smile. He accepts, then says something to her before the girl’s smile falters and points right at Julie.

Wait, she’s pointing at Julie?

Definitely handsome stranger follows her finger and lands on Julie, eyes scanning up and down her body (at least, what he can see from above the table), his face instantly lighting up in the most gorgeous smile she’s ever seen.

And then he’s turning back to say thank you and then making his way towards her and oh no what what what--

Because this isn’t her date. It can’t be, right? But Luke Patterson is stepping up to her booth, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Hey, you’re Julie, right?” His voice, sweet and thick as honey, and Julie would know that voice anywhere.

“Luke Patterson? You… you didn’t say--” She cuts herself off before she can say something foolish.

Because there is no way in hell she’d unknowingly put up her sugar baby services to Luke fucking Patterson. Not rockstar Luke Patterson. Not lead guitarist and singer and songwriter for her favorite band, Sunset Curve. Not literally in the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame Luke Patterson.

“Yeah, about that… I am really sorry about not telling you. It’s just not something I like mentioning to everyone I meet, you know?”

She’s having a hard time processing what he’s saying. He’s so close. Why is he leaning on the table like that? Why is he so close?

“Yeah! Yeah, totally. That’s understandable.” She laughs nervously, taking a sip of her coffee to avoid speaking any further.

“This… this is okay, right? You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” This clears her mind a bit. She takes in the way his hands fiddle with the rings on his fingers, his shoulders raised, and while his smile is easygoing, his eyes say otherwise. Why would she be mad?

She expresses this to him, and he just looks at his hands.

“Well, because I wasn’t completely truthful with you. And I totally understand if you want to walk away.”

“No!” She says before she can filter herself. His eyebrows raise in amusement. “I mean, it’s fine! I was just… surprised, that’s all.”

And surprised is correct. Luke Patterson is the same Luke she’s been talking to for the last three weeks, the very same one who’s been making her laugh and who’d almost made her miss work last week because they had texted about everything and nothing until the sun came up.

He seems to like her answer. His smile never leaves his face.

“You seemed to recognize me. You a fan of Sunset Curve’s?”

And maybe it’s the way his cocky smile burns her cheeks, or just the fact that he’s talking to her. Panic sets in and she lies.

“Never heard of Sunset Swerve.”

“You knew my name.”

“You know it’s a household name, right?”

“Your jacket says otherwise.”

And shit. She had forgotten about the Sunset Curve patch right over her heart. In fact, it was the first patch she had put on the jacket. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Fine. You caught me. I’m a Curver. Happy?”

And though she’s teasing, he couldn’t seem to be happier. Seriously, she’s worried his dopey grin is gonna break his face. Then an ugly, ugly thought rears its head in her mind.

“Wait. You let me gush about Sunset Curve so many times and you didn’t say anything?” Her sentence ends in a laugh.

“Oh, Julie, I wanted to so bad. You have no idea!”

Julie finds herself not really registering the second half of his sentence. She had missed it, the first time he said her name due to being starstruck, and her face warms a bit when she recalls just how good her name had sounded when he said it. Like a splash of cool water on a hot day. Like sap dripping fresh from a tree, glinting in the sunlight.

“Then why didn’t you?”

He sobers a bit at this, though his eyes still hold the same fire as before. “Well, I didn’t really want to go around announcing that. Can you imagine how many matches I’d get if I put that little tidbit in my bio?”

Julie laughs at this, the absurdity of it hitting her. Of course. He’d want someone who’d like him for him, not for his status, or name, or fame or money.

Oh. Shit. She was literally here for his money.

“For sure! Must’ve been hard.”

“Oh, not really. I matched with you on day one and deleted the app once we exchanged phone numbers.”

“Really?” Julie felt a little guilty for still having the app on her phone now, even after she was pretty sure Luke was a good match. There was still the possibility that mystery man was a total creep. If she’d have known who he was, on the other hand…

“Totally! I’ll be honest, my bandmates put me up to this, but once we started talking I just knew I had to meet you.”

Julie’s mind still feels a bit foggy, like she was dreaming. A fantastic dream, might she add.

“I’ve been really excited to meet you too. My best friend also convinced me to get the app. She’s actually over there.” Julie smiled, nudging her head over towards her friend, where they were certainly trying their best to eavesdrop.

“Brought a plus one, I see?” Luke chuckled, giving Flynn a wave. Flynn hid her already shielded eyes from view with her book.

“Hey, you gotta remember I was meeting someone whom I had never seen before, and the fact that I didn’t know your last name was not helping.”

Luke’s smile turned bashful again. “Ah. She’s backup.”

“Yep! But I think they’re good to go.” Julie whipped out her phone and sent Flynn a quick message, relieving her of her duties.

“You sure? I might kidnap you.”

“I’d let you kidnap me.”

Oh god. She so did not say that.

He seemed to think it was funny. At least she was amusing. At her own expense, maybe, but amusing nonetheless.

Amusing to Luke Patterson.

If she doesn’t stop saying his last name, she’ll go insane. This is just the dorky guy she’s been talking to. The one she’ll hopefully get to talk to tomorrow.

Despite the rocky start, Julie would say it was a successful date. Coffee turned into lunch at a nearby bistro, and he walked Julie to her car a few blocks away. She didn’t get to her apartment until after 4 o’clock, and Flynn was waiting with two glasses of wine in their shared living room. Julie is eager to spill all the details, and Flynn is the perfect listener, oohing and ahhing at all the right moments.

As Julie crawls into bed after her eventful day, her phone dings on her nightstand.

PayPal: Luke Patterson sent you $500.00 “I had a great time today :) hope to see you again soon!”

Well. If she had calmed down any, this just undid all of her efforts. A wave of guilt floods over her. The concept of a sugar daddy sort of seemed too outlandish to really fathom. But now she feels awful taking his money.

She’s really doing this, isn’t she?

Julie: you really didn’t have to

Luke: but i wanted to

Luke: it’s ok tho right?

Julie: i guess it’s fine, it’s just a lot of money

Luke: i realise how conceited this is going to sound but its no sweat off my back. just think of it as a gift

Gifts. She could live with that.

* * * *

taglist! @ladyblanche :)

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #384

“watch your tongue or have it cut from your head”

Do you post to say happy birthday on other people’s walls? Sometimes. Depends on my mood and the person. When was the last time you saw a rainbow? Idr. What’s your favorite television commercial? I don't watch TV enough at all to have one. And who has a favorite commercial, anyway? Do you trip a lot? I don't really trip a lot, but kinda fumble over my footing and stray a bit. I'm horrible at walking straight, and it's gotten worse as my legs have. How old is your television? The one in the living room is god knows how old. My parents were still together when they bought it. When did you last talk on the phone with someone? A couple days ago for my appointment with my psychiatrist. Are you currently sleepy? I'm quite convinced I'm permanently tired. Are you hot or cold natured? I am ALWAYS fucking hot, ugh. Do you take any advanced classes? I took mostly Honors classes in school. Do you have weak upper body strength? My body is just weak as a whole. What is the worst insult someone can call you? Emotionally weak. Are you good at sketching? If we're talking meerkats, haha. They're the only complex thing that I can freehand no problem without needing a reference, honestly. Ever play Angry Birds? Nah. I thought the movie was cute, though. Have you ever been to the zoo before? Yeah. Has anyone ever been weirdly obsessed with you? No. Are you afraid someone might steal your identity someday? It's not something I actively worry about at all. Like, you don't want my identity, I promise. Do you have any talents that come naturally? Growing up, adults always told me I was a "gifted" artist and writer. Also that I seem to have an unnaturally strong connection with animals. I've always been that person where a pet's owner is like "omg ____ never lets people do that" and whatnot. Have you ever had plastic surgery before? I haven't. It's funny though, how opposed to it I used to be... Like goddamn, I was such a fucking stupid and honestly judgmental teenager, regarding many things. I look back on her and cringe. Like damn dude, if you have a safe surgical procedure to help you enjoy the body you're stuck with the rest of your life, you go for it, boo. Are you afraid of airplane rides? Not really. What’s the best Valentine’s Day gift you’ve gotten? There was this one year where Jason had to go to work on Valentine's Day and I was super bummed, yet he still surprised me with a heart-shaped box of chocolates, roses, and a game I really wanted, Heavy Rain. I thought it was the sweetest. What is something you lose often? My phone. ;-; Do you enter a lot of sweepstakes? I don't enter any. Do you consider yourself physically active? *chuckles nervously* Do you have Netflix? Yeah. Favorite salad dressing? That Olive Garden replica you can buy at the store. Do you enjoy dancing? Once upon a time I did. My body could never handle it now. Have you ever considered writing a novel? Many times. Snow or sand? Snow, by twenty thousand miles. It is VERY hard for me to walk through sand, and I also hate hate hate hate HATE the sensation. Do you like sour candy? Heeeeeell yeah man. Have you gotten any injuries lately? If so, what & how? Nothing notable. Are you a clumsy person? Like you would not fucking believe. Last male you talked to in person? I think my primary physician's nurse. Are you thinking about asking anyone out? No. Pink lemonade or regular lemonade? Pink lemonade, for sure. But I love both. Chocolate or strawberry milk? CHOCOLATE. Strawberry milk is disgusting. Have you ever won a contest on the radio?No. Is there a song that reminds you of your best friend? There's quite a few. Has a book ever made you cry? Yes. Do you automatically check your phone when you wake up? Yes, for the time. Do you know anyone who has a pet bunny? Not that I'm aware. What store or website would you most like a gift card for? Rebel's Market. How do you feel about wolves? I adore wolves. Beautiful, majestic creatures with very interesting social dynamics. Name your top 3 favorite musical instruments. Electric guitar, violin, piano. What was the last book(s) you bought at a bookstore? At an actual bookstore, I think it was The Fault In Our Stars, which I never actually read. Do you use Pinterest? Yes. Do you know any sign language? No. Do you have a favorite poem? No. Do you have a dog? No. The one we were pretty much stuck with has a home now. Have you ever read The Little House on the Prairie series? I haven't. Have you ever gone on a service trip to an underprivileged country? No. Have you ever performed in front of more than 100 people? Yes, for dance. When (if ever) was the last time you went to church? Forever ago, I don't even remember the last time. What's a quote you think is really powerful? There's a whole lot. The first one that came to mind was, "An eye for an eye will leave the world blind," which I do believe has great depth in it. Have you ever had to do your laundry at a laundromat? Yes. Are you the oldest person who lives in your household? No. My mom is turning 60 (... I think?) this year. If you have tattoos, how long have you had them? I got my first the day I turned 18. Do you and your dad have similar personalities? We're alike in some ways, imo most notably in that we have NO fucking common sense, embarrassing as that is to admit. We're both kinda slow at understanding things, too. What were the last three things you had to drink? Mountain Lightning, milk, and water. What did your family usually do for Easter when you were a kid? Us three kids all got Easter baskets full of stuff, and we'd go egg-hunting when we were all awake. My little sister Nicole would always wake our parents up in excitement, haha. My parents hid plenty throughout the house, and there was always this one "special" egg that was actually from Mom's childhood and was extremely intricate and beautiful. You basically "won" the hunt if you found it, and it was extremely well-hidden. When you have house guests over, where do they sleep? Historically since living here, my two half-sisters and their spouses (the only people who've stayed over) slept in what is *technically* Mom's room, but for whatever reason this woman still insists on sleeping on the couch in the living room, I guess because she's used to it after all the years she didn't have her own room and bed. Are you emotionally stable? LOLOOLOLOOLLOLOOLOOLOLLOOLOLLLLLLLLLLL Do you still talk to the very first person you had sex with? No. Are you an atheist? No. I don't quite know how to define what I am, but since I believe there's SOME higher power, I don't think it's fitting to call me an atheist. What’s the largest bug you’ve ever found in your house? Hm... I'm unsure. Probably a male mosquito, 'cuz them bitches are big'ins. Would it annoy you if a stranger called you "sweetie?" If it was a man, I'd be creeped out. Are you into fashion design? Not really. What’s the worst thing you’ve gone through in the past year? My leg muscles continuing to degrade, honestly. I have to do something about this shit. How did you get your last bruise? I fell when stepping over the stupid dog gate. Have your parents ever forgotten your birthday? Yikes, no. Would you rather have some bacon or beef jerky? Bacon. Do you like your orange juice with lots or no pulp? NONE. Do you wear skinny jeans? Back when I wore jeans, they were the only kind I wore. What projects are you doing now for school? I'm outta school. What’s the most number of comments you have on a Facebook picture? What is the picture of? I have no idea. Do you like coconut flavored things? No. Have you ever met a famous author before? No. Do you know anybody who has been raped before? No, thank god. I know someone who might've almost been, though. I don't know what the fucking pig was going to do to her if my sister and I weren't there. Have you ever wished for bigger boobs? No. Being overweight, I just want smaller ones now, haha. Have you ever gone a full day without interacting with another person? I've gone many days without it. How many relationships have you been in that lasted less than a year? Four, if you're counting everyone that had the "boyfriend" title. Where were you going the last time you were on a plane? Home from Illinois. Where were you going the last time you were on a train? I've never been on one. Have you ever been significantly more physically fit than you are now? Holy fuck, yes. You would never guess now that I was perfectly healthy in high school especially, yet I still thought I was kinda fat. It hurts so much to look back on. When growing up, did you parents keep the house very tidy? I mean not excessively, but Mom was pretty dedicated to keeping the house in decent condition. With three kids though, of course the house was somewhat messy with toys and all. When you shop at IKEA, do you always stop to eat a snack/meal in the cafeteria? ... There's a fucking cafeteria in a furniture store? o_o I've never been there before. How many watches do you own? None, save for one in my "treasure box" from when I was a kid. I was SO SO SO obsessed with Finding Nemo that I kept my broken one. I did the same with my horribly aged sneakers, like the soles were coming off and Mom finally made me stop wearing them, ha. Are there any ways in which you greatly differ from everyone else in your family? I do fucking nothing and am useless to society. Should teenagers be allowed to have their cell phones with them in class? Yes, because emergencies happen. I personally think it's best to maybe have your cell phone flipped over on the corner of your desk or something and on vibrate, that way the noise isn't too disruptive and the teacher can see you're not just using it for other purposes. Do you have any gay relatives? Yes. Have you ever had to have a pet put down? Sigh, multiple. Have you unfollowed, deleted, or blocked anyone on social media recently? If so, what was the reason? Not recently. How many cups of coffee do you typically drink per day? None. Do you know what your vocal range is? No, but it's not very broad. What’s the biggest financial mistake you’ve ever made? I haven't been in this position before. Have you ever been in a relationship where there was a large difference in maturity levels? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? I wanna say over a month while we were technically homeless. How bad was your acne when you were a teenager? Oh dear, it was rough. Like there were people who had it worse than me, but ya girl was lookin preeeetty rough lmao.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''hail to the king'' by avenged sevenfold

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kingof-spades · 4 years

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Hi! I'm Hana, call me H. (if this is a thing) I'm a halfling. I watch both anime and "normal" shows! I don't write but I do reblog to show some love. Here's some stuff about me <3

If I have sent a request and it's specifically for your mutuals or if I sent a request that made you uncomfortable, please DM me or if you're too shy know that I'm sorry! I don't mean to offend anyone in any way <3

(hi to any person i sent to for a match-up. if it helps my #me - h has a few people's opinion on who they think i'd be best with, so you can look at that if it helps!)

damn, now i want a character anon lover 😔

Status: Offline

Updated: 12/26/20

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚘 𝚘𝚗 𝙷

Name: Hana/H

Age: 19

Birthday: February 12th 🙃

Zodiac: Aquarius

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight - girls are hot though

𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊 𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚘

Favorite Drinks: Boba, Soda, and Coffee

Favorite Food/Snacks/Candies: Fruits, Fruit Snacks/Gummy Bears, Twizzlers- :), Altoids(wintergreen), Lollipops

Likes: Music, Anything/Most things Vanilla, Leggings, more to be added

Dislikes: certain Vegetables(sorry, i cannot stomach them), Jeans, my Voice, People watching me eat, more to be added

Height: 150 cm - 4'11

My Kinnies: Mary Saotome, Aisaka Taiga, Suna Rintaro,

Words To Describe Me: Complicated, Confusing, Sadistic, Indecisive, Extra :), ditz, etc.

My Love Language: Quality Time + Acts of Service

When I Made This Account: October 15th - Though I'm not new, just lost my old account :(

Current Songs I Love: Blueberry Eyes, Quarto de Hotel, Gotta Love the LOV, and any song from Melanie Martinez :)

Favorite Haikyuu Ships: Kagehina, Bokuaka, and Asanoya 🥺

Favorite Haikyuu Team: Karasuno

𝙷𝚘𝚠/𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝙸 𝚊𝚖/𝙼𝚢 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢

I'm shy at first but get to know me, I am a whole different person. I can be quite blunt but I know when to shut my mouth. If my man likes someone else, he better tell me instead of cheating :( I don't stand cheaters. I'm not the type to "forgive and forget" I'm pretty bitter(sorry), only sometimes though.

A pretty negative person, not gonna lie. I'm a foodie/snackie and also insecure. I am clingy... but I still need/want my freedom and space. I have a tattoo on my knee that says "everything" in the shape of a question mark, and a skull for the dot(y'know, the . at the bottom).

Absolutely not into "perfect" things or people, only sometimes though. I prefer those who has demons. I absolutely CANNOT handle people who can't admit when they're wrong, I can't find it in me. Into chill dates or exciting one or just chilling(ex. Like in the bathroom brushing our teeth while vibing to some songs <3) Loves a good comfortable silence. I bite the inside of my cheek... good or bad thing, I dunno. It relaxes me though.

I get what I want because I'm nice, but sometimes I don't because I can be a b*tch at times :/ I have dry lips because idgaf, sorry :(( I need a man that can get me the snacks anytime and anywhere because I need them. Or one of my favorite drinks, either one and I'll be nice/fine! :p I tend to suppress my own feelings and needs so I need a guy who knows me(im also selfish...). I need a honest guy who also loves me for me and would never judge me because I hurt pretty easily :((

I'm one to ask people to do my homework... and hope they do :) I'm pretty boring so my friends, etc have to be the fun one. My friends consider me bossy, I am, in a good way. I'm sensitive so people trying to teach me things will make me cry, only my teachers/professors can teach me stuff. You have to be someone I trust and is really special to teach me. I'm clumsy. I don't like compliments because I feel like I don't deserve them. If I run out of clothes I will wear others with no shame :) ahem, im sensitive. I like being a exception because it makes me feel special.

My best subject is English, but I don't think I'm good at it :/ I'm very cat-like :) Take me on a roller-coaster and I will throw up or cry and scream. Also a scaredy cat. On the outside I seem very crazy or whatever but at home I just chill. I'm a normally cool person. Please, I have so many issues and mental problems. I'm picky, yet I'm not? I can be easily entertained, sometimes. Like I can play with a string of yarn or a stick and not fall asleep from boredom. I have random hyper moments as well :)) Respect my privacy, thank you. Give me someone who doesn't mind me being weird, we can be weird together~

I wasn't raised properly. I learned most things a kid should know as a teen and also did everything myself. So I get embarrassed to do everything or anything in public/in front of someone. Practically slow and clueless :) I also don't really know myself :/

How my friend describes me: "You seem pretty straight forward and confident but at times you can be kinda shy you can also come off mean to some people but you dont realize youre being rude because thats how youve always talked. You can be generous and yes you are annoying and pushy. You also like money or expensive things." My friend kins me with: Akaashi, bit of Kenma, Nishinoya, Kageyama, Bokuto with the emo stuff

Took @shoutas-kitten info and added/changed/deleted a few things, with Luna's permission! (sorry im just not creative enough :( but i tried adding a few thing)

I hope we can be friends! Just know we're not gonna talk a lot because I'm pretty dry :( but I'll always support you <3 (also im not the brightest person, legit)

#bnha #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hunter x hunter #kakegurui #me - h

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shaydeoffical · 4 years

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If the World was Ending. Denki x Reader

Summary: You and Denki dated for two years before his chaotic work week got between you. The final straw was when he missed your sister’s wedding and you didn’t have a partner to walk you down the aisle. Denki was working himself to the bone, and being reckless. You split before you get the chance to see him run himself into the ground. But when the earth begins to shake, there’s only one person you want more than anyone else.

Words: 2K

If the World Was Ending

It was three in the morning when the earthquakes started. My power went out, my fish tank shattered, and my bed rattled. Hurrying, I blindly scoped Bubbles up from the floor and put him into the cup of water on my bedside table. My bookshelf hit the floor barley missing my toes. Grasping my glasses, and dodging the frame that fell from above my bed, I fell reaching for my desk.

Before I could hide under a table, it was over. Glass was embedded in my foot, blood trailed through the carpet. "What the hell just-"I sprang up, wincing before sinking into the bed. Pushing my hair back, securing Bubbles in my dresser drawer in a bundle of clothes, I just took a deep breath.

I hoped he was safe.

Hand hoovering my phone, the screen had yet to light up. Still, I pulled up the blank contact, wondering if I should try it. Surely, I was blocked…its not like we ended on bad terms, but it wasn't right to get in his way now.

Another rumble shook my cottage, my thumb pressing the contact before dropping my phone altogether. "Shi- shit." Leaving my phone, I dashed under my desk and waited for it to end. Tears welled in my eyes, and I counted backward from one hundred. Before I got to seventy, it was over.

This time, I went to look out my bedroom window. The city was in flames. There was a distant glow of emergency services and smoke raising. Was Kami okay? "Denki."

My phone had gone straight to voicemail. I ended the memo and tried to turn on my data to see what the news was saying. Nothing, so the cell towers were down. It was pointless to call him dumb even. He had nothing left for me, and I had nothing for him.

"Stupid stupid stupid." I limped into the kitchen, pulling out my flashlights, and getting a basin of water. Slowly I began to pluck the glass from my heel. I hoped he was home, tucked away for the night. Maybe, he slept right through it and would wake up just fine. Better yet, perhaps he was away for work and had no clue any of this was happening.

More rumbles and my tiny chandelier was swinging wildly. My dirty water sloshing into the floor, and spreading to the living room. This time I hid under the archway and waited it out. My stomach churned with knots, light-headed, and tired. Today was going to be over soon enough… My knees gave up under me, one of my cabinets bursting open, and the china splattering all over the floor.

"Denki," I whispered, gripping handfuls of plush carpet and crying. Nothing was the same, we ended on good terms. He was to busy with work, and I wasn't ready to commit. That doesn't mean he wouldn't come to me. Did he have this calling in his chest? The unmistakable rumble in my soul, longing for his embrace.

Pressing the am setting on the radio, I slid the seat back and covered my head. There was no static, no alarms or warning.

My finger wavered over his contact, the one I swore I'd delete last year. The one with a blank profile picture and a fake name. Still, I only hoovered, the trembling was inching me closer to knowing the truth. Was I blocked? Did he even have my number in his phone? Was he on a date or running home? He such a flirt there was no way he'd be at home on a Saturday.

Clawing at my chest, I braced with the other hand. I wanted him, needed him. For all, I knew he was in the arms of another, but I needed him. I had to move.

Once the shaking was over, I put my shoes limping over the debris and slinging open my front door. A hand brought down on my nose in a 'knocking' motion. "Oh shit," he yelled, pulling me into his arms, pushing my hand from my nose and examining it. Bright yellow eyes peering into me. I could never forget that hue or the way they looked straight through me. "I was just paroling the area, and-"

"You didn't get my call?" He nursed my face, rubbing his finger over the bridge of my nose, cooing.

"You still have my number?" he smiled, pushing the hair from my eyes.

"Hu," I pulled back, the earth erupting again. Denki shoved me against his chest and covered my head, standing under the doorway.

"Hold tight Kitty," he purred in my ear. Sensations that I thought were dead bloomed within my stomach. The familiar scent of old spice and hair gel, creating an oldy calming fog around me.

I wound my first in his button-up, burying my head in chest. The tv hit the floor behind me, and the coo-coo clock toppled over screaming.

Flinching as a coil hit my ankle, Denki squished me deeper under his chest. "I needed you. I just didn't think you'd come," I wept, the termer ending, but Denki's hold staying strong. "I want you. I always want you when I'm scared."

"So many times, I've thought about coming by. I just knew if the world was ending, I wanted to be beside you." Slowly I looked up, our lips inching closer. "Do you want to?"

Meeting him in the middle, our lips meet in quick peeks. It was slow, till he bites the bottom of my lip. Grasing my thigh, he pulled my leg onto his hip, pinning me against the door frame. Moving down my throat, leaving little kisses and peaks. "Chargebolt," I let out his hero name in a moan, his ultimate trigger. As if a year hadn't passed, he picked me up, danced over the ruins, and straight to my bedroom.

"I missed you," I gasped, fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt. He slipped it past his shoulders and exposed his stomach. There was a new scar, bubbled up but faded. His eyes followed mine, and he softened, covering his skin. His gaze going to the door, lip sucked in.

"It's nothing, (Y/n)." He started to put his shirt back on, and I grabbed the sides of the shirt. "Kitten," he pleased for me to let it go.

"You don't have to hide from me." Moving his hands aside, I rubbed the area in the dark. The wound was just under his ribs and ran diagonally to his pelvis. He was watching my every move, shivering while my fingers traced around the once life-threatening injury. Knowing I could have lost him forever, I kissed the mark. "Im sorry for- uh." Denki was on top of me like a fly on sugar, caging me. The house shifting and popping with each quake. "Are we going to die?" I gripped to his shirt with one hand and covered his head with the other. He was alive, and here, and I was going to lose him.

"No, Kitty, we're fine." He nibbled along my neck, distracting me as the episode started and stopped. Another round hit directly after and I wondered if the world was ending. "It's okay, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, baby." His voice didn't crack with any hint of fear. But his love bites were too straight for me to believe he was okay. He was usually a passionate, albeit sloppy, lover. If there was one thing I understood, it was that Denki Kaminair was worried...and still cared about me.

My breath hitched in my throat. Could he really just stay? "Denki, I don't want to ever say goodbye again." I dug my nails through his hair, not believing that he was really here. That after all this time, he was holding me, protecting me, as if everything had changed and nothing at the same time. As if we were where we needed to be before we ultimately died.

"You don't have to. Never again." The quake stopped. Denki lowered himself down, our lips latching in a slow kiss. His hands wound under my back, and he pulled us into a sitting position. I straddled his lap, hands around his neck, and his around my waist, sliding up my spine.

"Do you mean it?" I asked as he trailed kissed down my collar bone, nipping and sucking in an erratic pattern. "Or do you just wanna?"

"There hasn't been a day you haven't crossed my mind." He just gawked. It wasn't his typical lusty gaze with a smirk, but a soft longing. Lips parted with the smallest smile, brows raised in awe and gaze unwavering. Even his hands had yet to grab a handful of my ass. He was calculated, desperate, yet so afraid. This side of Denki is one I never saw in the two years we dated. "I still love you. There are just a few things I needed to learn to love you the way you deserved. When I alost lost my life, I realized I wanted to be a hero to the world, but more than that- I wanted to give my life to you. You were more than those long hours. There are so many heroes in the world, but I was yours- and I didn't show up when you needed me. That's never going to happen again."

"Denki." I chewed my lower lip, his thumb pulling it from my teeth and brushing my cheek.

"Don't cry, Kitty." He pressed our forehead together, tears streaming down his own face. "When you cry, I do."

"You're such a goofball." I chuckled bursting into tears. "I missed you so bad." I kissed circles around his lips, then pecked them a few times. "I still love you too. Don't think that I want to stop you from being a hero. There's just one person in this world that I can't live without. Denki, I just want to see you more than twice a week." I admitted, leaving myself open to the pain, to him possible breaking my heart. He could up and leave when the quakes stop, or before I wake up. It was uncertain, but-

"(Y/n), stop whatever you are thinking. I know that look, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not the same man who forgot missed your first surgery, or your sister's wedding." He pushed me back into bed, laying onto of me. Threading our hands together and slipping to the side, pushing me flush against him. "I didn't come over here because I was going to leave today, or ever. Well, if you told me too, I would have. I just realized what was important a few months ago, and after the shake, I knew I couldn't wait for a minute longer. I couldn't stop thinking about you about us. There's no natural disaster on earth that could keep me from you. Not now, not ever. If the world was ending, I'd still be right here Kitty."

"But you left before," I whispered, hiding my head in his chest to avoid any hurt his face could show. "And I didn't chase you. What about that? What does that say about me?"

"That's never going to happen again. You shouldn't have had to run for me." Our fingers flexed, and he freed one hand, cupping my cheek. "I love you."

Another tremor rocked our world, this one was shorter, but Denki still covered my head. The house settled once again; this time, there wasn't a loud clatter or splash. This time the world was quiet spare for the thumping in my ears, the blood working its up my face and into my head. I missed this feeling. "Hold me till tomorrow?" I asked, grabbing his collar and flipping him beside me.

"I'll hold you forever." I snuggled into his chest, his lips connecting with my forehead. Our arms tangled around each other, and Denki's upper hand resting just across my hip. His slid hand under my shirt, rubbing images on my back. Spelling out the word love over and over again. Feeling brave, I wrapped my legs against his and rubbed his ankle with my toes.

"I'm glad you came back." I yawned, kissing him before flopping my head against the pillow.

"I hope you feel the same way when you wake up." Denki giggled, opening my nightstand to put away his google. "Why is the fish in the draw?"

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spine-buster · 5 years

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 19 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Prepare your feels, guys. I apologize in advance because it gets a bit dark. TW: mention of abuse, alcohol abuse, death

“So, like…how old were you when you learned how to skate?” Bee asked nervously as her leg was tucked between Morgan’s thighs.

“Three,” he said, concentrating more on tightening and fastening the skate on her foot; he wanted to make sure it wasn’t too tight so her feet had enough room to breathe, but so tight as to suffocate them. It was a delicate balance.

“So you’ve had a little bit of practice then,” she said, making a bad joke. Morgan looked up at her, a smirk on his face. “Sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be nervous, Bumblebee,” he said, tightening the laces one last time. “It’s not like I’m gonna throw you out there and let you fend for yourself.”

“I know,” she nodded her head, looking out at the rink in Hollyburn Country Club and all the people skating on it already. “I’m just nervous about making a complete ass of myself.”

“Impossible.”

“How so?”

“Cause you’ve got a great teacher,” he winked, grabbing her other leg and putting it between his thighs. “How does the first skate feel?”

“Good.”

“Yoohoo! Over here!” they both heard Shirley’s voice call from beside them. She had her phone in her hand, pointed towards them. “Smile for the camera!” They did as they were told, and she snapped a cute picture, giving them thumbs up before walking back towards Andy, who was waiting for her at the entrance to the ice.

From behind Morgan, Connor knocked on the glass, and Bee could hear him yell “Hurry up!” through the glass before skating away. She giggled as she watched Morgan tie up the skate and set her foot down. “How does that one feel?”

“Good. You promise not to let go?” she asked as she stood up.

“Just like swimming,” he nodded his head, getting onto the ice before her. “Bend your knees a little bit, okay? You can’t start with stiff knees.”

Bee held on to Morgan’s hands as she stepped out onto the ice, slipping almost automatically, unable to keep her balance. Morgan’s strong arms pulled her back up as she yelped in fear. “Heeeeyyy hey hey hey, calm down, calm down. Take it slow. You can’t be Connor McDavid right away.”

“Who’s Connor McDavid?”

“Forget it,” he laughed. “Just stand, okay? Forget trying to make strides. Just stand and get used to the feeling of the blades under your feet.”

Bee listened intently to Morgan as he patiently, painstakingly, taught her how to skate. She clung onto his hands for dear life half the time, pleading for him not to let go, and he was so patient with her, not once telling her to let go unless she was ready. When she finally was, he was her biggest fan, cheering her on as he skated backwards and she skated towards him. Eventually, she grew confident enough to skate away from the boards, not relying on them to save her in case she fell and had to get up. She was even skating with her hands relaxed at her sides and not straight out to help her keep her balance. She even held hands with Morgan as he slowed down to skate with her, helping her stop and turn when she got too close to the boards. She wasn’t exactly Connor McDavid – whoever that was – but she was gliding along the ice nonetheless. She couldn’t believe she’d waited 23 years to skate.

After about an hour and a half, Bee was tired and Shirley had approached Morgan to tell him some kids were waiting for him to get his autograph and a picture. Bee gave him a quick kiss before she skated off and Morgan skated towards the kids. She sat on the same bench as she had before when Morgan was fastening her skates, resting her legs as she watched him pose for picture after picture. She felt her phone buzz from her back pocket and moved to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Angie’s voice was heard on the other end. “What are you up to right now?” she asked. They had been texting throughout Bee’s time there, so Angie didn’t need to ask how everything was going.

“Just watching Morgan sign some autographs,” she said.

“He took you to an autograph signing?”

“No no. We’re at the country club his family are members of, and all the kids swarmed him on the ice after he taught me how to skate.”

“A country club? That’s adorable,” Angie said quickly. “Um, listen. I’m calling you to ask you for a favour.”

“What favour is that?” Bee asked, worried about Angie’s quick tone.

“I think it’s time to put your Instagram on private now, and I’d delete everyone you don’t know personally.”

Bee’s heart skipped a beat. She and Angie had talked about the messages, but this was the first time Angie had cautioned her to go private. Usually, Angie contributed a ‘fuck them’ or ‘You should put on all the most expensive stuff you bought and take a picture with Morgan and caption it go to hell’. She’d never sounded so serious about it a she did now. “Why?”

“Listen, I don’t want to freak you out, but they’re adding me now, and asking me questions about you. I’m not saying they’re harassing me – quite the opposite actually because I’m the one telling them to fuck off – but I don’t want them to start doing that to anyone else,” she explained. “I think it’s great that you don’t care about what they have to say, but I don’t want them bothering more and more people.”

“Yeah. Yeah of course,” Bee said absent-mindedly. “Fuck Angie, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “They’re desperate and they don’t know boundaries. When everybody shares everything on social media, they think they’re entitled to see everything about your life, and they don’t get that they’re not.”

“Exactly.”

“Just be careful. Work on it as soon as possible. Again, I know you don’t care about what they have to say, but I think now is the time to cut them off.”

“Yeah. Yeah okay,” Bee gulped. “Angie, what did they say to you? Was it horrible?”

“No, nothing like that. They’ve just been asking question about you, like what you do and if you’re dating Morgan. One girl asked if I had any pictures of you two together. It was really weird. But I told them all to fuck off.”

“Angie, I feel horrible.”

“Don’t feel horrible because they don’t know boundaries. It was fine if it was just one or two of them, but then there was a horde and it just became annoying,” she explained. “And you know me, I’m a petty person – at least I can be. If I were you, I’d post a single picture of you and Morgan before you go private and delete everyone. Kick ‘em where it really hurts.”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh at her suggestion. “I’ll think about it.”

***

Later that day, during their last night in Vancouver, Bee found herself at dinner with Morgan and his parents at the exclusive Gotham Restaurant in downtown Vancouver. Morgan wanted to go out with a bang, apparently, because caviar was $150, then they had to get a round of oysters, the bottle of cabernet franc from Napa Valley was $345, and Bee’s filet and lobster with mashed potatoes and asparagus was a $100 plate alone. He told the waiter everything like it was an order at McDonalds. Though she was somewhat getting used to the big spending – at least to her standards – this was pretty extravagant. But all she could do was blink and smile as she tallied the expense of everyone’s order. Maybe she should have become a waitress instead, because theirs was going to get one hell of a tip tonight.

Despite trying to feel accustomed to the extravagance around her, she was genuinely having fun with Morgan and his parents. They were sharing stories of Morgan’s youth and what he was like as a kid, and Shirley kept sharing pictures she had on her phone of him as a kid (“I always keep some on here in case Hockey Night in Canada wants to do a quick something on him when the Leafs come to town.”). Andy and Shirley even went so far as to tell embarrassing stories of what he would call about during his first year in Toronto when he was attempting to cook for himself. Bee learned that he was completely useless, and that eventually the calls stopped because he just admitted defeat and ordered most of his food.

As they continued to laugh and share stories, Bee felt her phone buzz from inside her bag. She decided to ignore it at first, but not even one minute later it was buzzing again, and she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She quickly unclasped her purse and looked at her phone. In large caps lock font, ‘TORONTO POLICE SERVICES’ flashed on her screen.

Her heart began to race. She looked up quickly at Andy and Shirley, and looked down at her phone screen again. She couldn’t tell them that that the police were calling her, but she needed a way out. She had to think fast. “I’m really sorry,” she announced, getting up from her seat quickly. “I’m really sorry, but U of T is calling me. I have to take this.”

“That’s alright honey,” Shirley smiled. Bee was thankful they had already finished their meal and were just waiting on their dessert orders anyway. “You go ahead. I’ll make sure Morgan doesn’t eat your crème brulee.”

Bee made a beeline away from the table and swiped across her screen to answer the phone call so she wouldn’t lose it again. She made her way towards the long hallway that led to the washrooms, hoping she’d get decent service and enough silence to be able to hear. “Hello?”

“Hello, am I speaking with Ms. Briony McTavish?”

“Speaking.”

“Ms. McTavish, my name is Greg Campbell. I’m calling from the Toronto Police Department, 51 Division. Do you have a few moments to speak with me?”

Bee furrowed her brows. “Uh, of course. Is everything okay?” she asked. She didn’t remember doing anything illegal, and the only other reason they could be calling her was the break and enter from November. She figured since so much time had passed, they never found anything.

“Ms. McTavish, are you currently residing in Toronto?”

“Y-Yes…” she answered. “I mean, I’m not in Toronto right now – I’m in Vancouver visiting my boyfriend’s parents – but yes, I live permanently in Toronto,” she explained.

“And Ms. McTavish, according to records I have on file here, you were legally emancipated from your mother, Ms. Sharon McTavish, when you were sixteen years old.”

Bee’s body stiffened at the mention of her mother. “Yes I was. My mother was a serious alcoholic.”

“Have you been in touch with your mother since you were emancipated from her?”

“No,” Bee said definitively. “She barely showed love or affection throughout my whole life with her, and I thought it best for my mental health not to keep in contact with her after the emancipation. She has never tried to contact me either.”

“Ms. McTavish, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable with these questions – I just need to get the specifics of the case --”

“What case is that?”

Greg hesitated on the other end. “Ms. McTavish, I regret to inform you that your mother has passed away. She was found dead on the morning of Friday, January 25th due to cirrhosis of the liver.”

Bee went quiet. Her mother was dead. Found dead. Dead due to cirrhosis of the liver. Dead. Morning of Friday. Whale watching. She was whale watching and her mother was dead. The silence between the two was long before Bee verbalized her first thought out loud. “She’s dead.”

“Yes ma’am. She passed away early Friday morning. Her body was found by a volunteer at the homeless shelter where she was staying that night.”

If it was possible, her body stiffened even more. “She was homeless?”

“Well, temporarily. She was at the Fred Victor Homeless Shelter here in Moss Park. According to the facilitators she was in-between housing, but that’s where she was,” Greg said.

Bee took a sharp breath in hearing that name again. She took a moment to collect herself before trying to formulate a thought other than ‘She’s dead’. “Um…so, what are my next steps then?”

“Well Ms. McTavish, you were the only person listed as being of relation to Sharon, so you automatically become in charge of her estate,” Greg explained. Bee was thoroughly surprised she was still listed under anything to do with her mother, even after the emancipation. “There is…not much, as you can imagine, but some decisions still have to be made. And as the defacto executor of her estate, you may choose the next steps – if you would like her buried, or cremated…”

“Um…” Bee looked quickly back at Morgan and his parents sitting at the table. His mom was taking a sip of wine while Morgan was nodding at something his dad was saying. Morgan broke out into a grin soon after, as did his dad. Morgan looked over to Bee’s empty seat. “When…I mean, when do I have to make these decisions?”

“Well I understand that you’re in Vancouver, but is there an expected date for your return?”

“Um, I’ll be back Friday night, actually.”

“Well, then I will give you my contact information, and when you get back, I can meet with you at the station and explain your next options,” Greg offered kindly. “I don’t want to rush you to make decisions, and I know you were clearly not close with your mother and haven’t been in contact with her for a while, but do you think there will be a funeral service?”

“No.”

“Or a burial?”

“Cremation. I don’t…I don’t want anything fancy.”

“Alright Ms. McTavish. We will speak when you’re back in Toronto.”

Bee hung up the phone, looking down at it until the screen went dark and she couldn’t even formulate a coherent thought about the conversation she just had. Her mother was dead. Her mother – whom she hadn’t seen or spoken to for seven years – was dead. Her mother, the serious alcoholic. The emotional abuser. The not-a-mother-at-all. She tried to compose herself, even though she wasn’t crying at all, as she looked back at Morgan and his parents. They were still laughing about something.

She returned to the table, trying to mask her uneasiness at the phone conversation she just had. She pulled out her chair, getting the attention of everyone. “Everything okay?” Andy asked as she settled back into her seat.

“Everything’s fine,” she nodded her head quickly, tucking herself in and stuffing her phone back into her bag.

“You sure? Who was it?” Morgan asked, grabbing her hand gently underneath the table.

“It was just a registrar from U of T,” she lied, smiling at him. “Just wanted to confirm something on my transcript before they printed my copy for the interview.”

She could feel his thumb rubbing her hand gently as his dad recapped the story he had been telling quickly before continuing it. She felt bad about lying, but there was no way in hell she was going to say something and ruin such a perfect night. Though she smiled and laughed along, squeezing Morgan’s hand as it rested on her thigh, all she could think about was the image of her mom lying on a bed in a homeless shelter.

Dead.

***

When they arrived back at the Rielly house that night after dinner, Bee made sure to pack up her belongings, save for what she was going to need tomorrow morning and wear on the flight. To be respectful to Morgan’s parents, she and Morgan had stayed in their respective rooms the entire trip, not daring to try to sneak into each other’s, but tonight he was with her, helping her pack and getting everything ready. His parents had already called it a night and were in their room at the opposite end of the house. The house was so big that they probably wouldn’t even have known or heard if either of them had snuck into the other’s room at night.

To be completely honest, Bee wanted nothing more than that to happen tonight. She didn’t know what she was feeling in relation to the news she got after dinner, but she knew that she didn’t want to be alone. She knew that she wanted Morgan with her, around her in some capacity.

When they were finished packing everything and had changed into their pajamas, Morgan watched as Bee stared at the wall absent-mindedly, something obviously bothering her. He came up behind her and sat on the bed beside her, giving her a quick kiss on the temple and leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder. “Briony…” he mumbled against her skin.

“Hmm?”

“Are you sure it was just U of T that called at dinner?” Morgan asked.

She knew he would ask sooner or later. She’d tried not to let anything show, but besides Angie, there was nobody more in tune with her emotions than Morgan. She knew he’d pick up on it. “Why?”

“Listen, I don’t mean to pry. It’s just I noticed that you were a bit different since you got back. My mom noticed it too because she’s sensitive about these things but she didn’t want to say anything. Is…is everything okay?”

Bee let out a shaky breath, one that, truthfully, she had been holding in since she got the call. “Mo…”

He grabbed her had and brought it up to his lips to kiss it gently. “What’s the matter, Bumblebee? Tell me.”

“It wasn’t U of T that called.”

“Okay. Who was it?”

“It was a guy named Greg Campbell. He’s a police officer with 51 Division in Toronto.”

Morgan looked at her skeptically. “You’re telling me after all this time they found your stuff?”

“No…it’s not…” she shook her head. She let out another shaky breath before continuing. “Um, he called me to tell me my mom passed away. A volunteer at a homeless shelter found her, and she died from cirrhosis of the liver.”

Bee could practically see Morgan’s heart fall into his stomach. He opened his mouth a few times to say something, but nothing came out for a while, until, “Oh my God, Briony…wh…why didn’t you say something?”

“I wasn’t going to say something at dinner with your parents,” she said.

“Briony, your mother passed away.”

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. She’s dead, and I always knew she was going to die from the alcoholism, so this isn’t as much of a surprise to me as you think it is,” she explained. “I don’t…I’m not upset by this. I haven’t spoken to her in seven years. She was abusive.”

It was the first time she had said the words so definitively out loud. She was abusive. They weren’t pretty words, but they needed to be said. And Morgan needed to hear them. It was the reason she wasn’t crying. She couldn’t feel sadness or sympathy for her abuser, or for a woman who wasted her life on alcohol instead of caring for her daughter.

Morgan had no choice but to accept what she was saying. He could tell her ‘But that’s your mom’ over and over again until he was blue in the face, but it wasn’t going to have an effect on Bee. To Bee, Sharon wasn’t a mom. There was nothing that could convince her that she was. And truthfully, Morgan knew she was right. And if that’s the way Bee felt, then that’s the way he felt about it too. If she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, then he would try not to make a big deal out of it either. “She…cirrhosis of the liver? What is that?”

“It’s complicated, but just know it’s not good. It’s a common by-product of severe alcoholism,” she explained. “But the fact of the matter is that she died. When we go back to Toronto, I have to deal with her funeral and her estate.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said automatically.

“You don’t--”

“I want to,” he interrupted her. “What did I tell you? You don’t have to go through this stuff alone anymore. We’re going to go through this stuff together.”

Bee looked at him. All 6’1” of him, blonde hair, blue eyes, muscles tucked into pajama shorts and an old t-shirt. He was so boyish and so handsome and he had his pick of any girl in Toronto and he managed to choose the one with the fucked up childhood and alcoholic mother who had just died. And he was still here after learning all that. He still flew her to Vancouver to meet his parents. He still volunteered to see a dead alcoholic’s body ravaged by cirrhosis. She didn’t deserve him. “Morgan?”

“Mhmm?”

“Can you…can you just like, hold me?”

“C’mere, Bumblebee,” he moved to hold her in his arms as he tucked them both into bed. She used his chest as a pillow as he wrapped both his arms around her. “I love you Briony. We’re going to get through this together.”

“I love you too. And I know we will,” she said, looking up at him.

He gave her a quick kiss. “I don’t know what you’re feeling right now, and I know I won’t be able to understand, but you’re allowed to feel whatever you want,” he said. “I know that she was your mom, but she was a horrible mom, so there’s gonna be, like, a range of emotions. But you’re allowed to feel it all. Don’t think you’re not.”

“I’ll be okay, Mo,” she said, giving him another quick kiss before relaxing her head on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair soothingly, reducing all the stiffness and pent up emotion she had in her. She knew he would try to stay awake as long as possible, just in case she said anything or wanted to talk about it further, but after a while, she felt his heartbeat steady, and she knew he was asleep.

***

Bee had slept all of twenty minutes at most. When she looked over at the alarm clock and it read 3am, she sighed heavily. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to sleep, she really did, but every time she closed her eyes and her mind started to drift, an image from her childhood would reappear, and she’d snap her eyes open and be wide awake again. Images of her mom passed out on the couch when she got home from school; of sitting at the kitchen table doing homework, watching her mom open another bottle on the kitchen counter; of looking up at her mom sleeping on the bed in the homeless shelter while she was sleeping on the floor using her backpack as a pillow.

Slowly but surely, she manoeuvred herself out of Morgan’s grasp, sitting on the edge of the bed for a while, staring out the window into the pristine darkness of the West Vancouver sky. Her mother was dead. She always knew she would have to say that one day, but she didn’t imagine it being so soon. A small part of her actually thought she wouldn’t have to say that one day, because nobody would contact her to tell her, so she wouldn’t know at all. But she knew now, and she couldn’t get it out of her head.

After coming to terms with the fact that she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she thought going to the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water was a better alternative to looking out of a window into darkness. She tip-toed quietly down the stairs and made her way there, grabbing a glass and trying to figure out how to work the built-in icemaker on the Rielly’s new fridge that looked like it belonged in space rather than a house. When she couldn’t figure it out, she resorted to just getting water from the tap and drinking it warm.

“Are you okay?” Bee suddenly heard a voice whisper. She jumped dramatically, turning around to see Andy standing at the entrance of the kitchen in his pajamas with a bathrobe on.

“Oh God. I’m sorry. You scared me,” her hand went over her heart.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, laughing a bit. “You thirsty?”

“Uh, yeah…” she said, looking down at the glass of tap water in her hand. “I couldn’t figure out how to use your space fridge to get ice though.”

Andy snorted. “Maybe we should go back to using ice trays,” he laughed, pulling open the fridge door to get out the orange juice. He grabbed a glass and set it down on the table, pulling out a chair. “Sit, honey.”

Bee didn’t want to say no. There was no reason she could have, anyway, so she took the invitation and sat in a seat opposite of him as he poured orange juice into his cup. She watched as he took a long gulp, swallowing almost half of the juice he just poured, before he focused his attention back to her. “Was everything okay after dinner?”

Bee tried to look away from him but she couldn’t. He was staring right at her and she was sitting across from him and there was no way in hell she could deny him an answer. The only thing she could do was prolong it. “Why do you ask?”

Andy shuffled a bit in his seat. “Listen. I don’t mean to pry,” he said, starting the conversation the exact same way Morgan did. God, now she really knew where he got it from. “Shirley and I just noticed a little bit of a…shift when you came back. I just want to make sure everything is okay.”

She decided to just come right out with it. “How much has Morgan told you about my mom?”

Andy looked taken aback by the question. It wasn’t like she was trying to call his bluff or anything – she knew Morgan had told his parents about it, as evident from the conversation she had with Shirley on their first day here – but she wondered if he talked about it more with his mom, or if Shirley told Andy. His answer was important because it determined how she would start and handle the conversation. “Morgan’s told me about her addiction issues. How she was an alcoholic,” he clarified. “A pretty severe one, it seemed. And how you guys moved around a lot because of it.”

Bee nodded her head. “Well, that phone call at dinner was from a police officer named Greg Campbell. He called to let me know my mom passed away. She was found dead in a homeless shelter due to cirrhosis of the liver.”

Andy stayed quiet. It wasn’t a lot of information to take in, but it was a stab in the heart nonetheless. Over the past few days he’d been able to see how happy she made his son, and it was something he loved to see. To hear that she had gotten a phone call like that, on her last night of what was supposed to be a vacation, was horrible. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said solemnly.

“And that’s the thing – I’m not,” she admitted for the first time out loud. “I know…I know that sounds harsh and rude and completely…inhuman, but I’m not sad about it. I’m not sorry.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t be sorry for someone that never acted like a real mother,” she said gingerly. She ran the risk of exposing her entire heart and soul to her boyfriend’s father over the kitchen table at three o’clock in the morning, but right now, she didn’t care. “She was never loving. She was never caring. She never did anything to prove herself worthy of the title of being called mom. She cared more about herself and her addiction than she ever did me.”

“That’s understandable --”

“Plus,” she inadvertently interrupted him, “she never worked to make herself better. I can’t feel sad for a person that caused me so much pain in my life, regardless of whether or not she was my mother. She never acted like it. And after not seeing her for almost seven years, I don’t even feel a connection to her anymore. Quite frankly, even when I was living with her, I hardly did.”

“I get it, Briony. I get it as much as I can get it,” he said. She was thankful he acknowledged that he could never truly know. “I know how much pain she caused you and I know she didn’t make your life easy. You don’t have to feel sympathy or sadness. She doesn’t deserve that from you and I get it. But you have to be feeling something.”

Bee was scared to reveal what she was really feeling. She knew if she verbalized it, if she put it out in the open, that it would become real. It would no longer just be something she felt internally, something she could lie about to people’s faces to make them think she was fine. “I feel…I feel relief,” she finally admitted, to herself and to Andy. A stray tear fell down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly. One tear was too many to shed. “I feel like I giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel like it’s finally…over. That I can move on. I don’t have to think about her anymore. I won’t toss and turn at night thinking about what has happened to me. I won’t lie awake thinking about what she could be doing or who she could be with or what she could have been up to these seven years, if the alcoholism got worse, if she got into anything else. I just…I don’t have to think about it anymore. It’s done. It’s done.”

Andy moved his chair so he was closer to her before putting a comforting hand on her forearm. “It’s okay to feel that way.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Absolutely,” he said firmly, nodding his head. “You have every right to feel that way and it is one hundred percent validated by what you went through, and don’t let anybody try to convince you otherwise. She was an awful mother, and you separated yourself and got out of that situation as quickly as you could, and if anybody needs to be commended in this situation, it’s you.”

“There was one time…” she began, shaking her head to herself, wondering if she should even tell him the story. The only other person she’d told was Angie – she hadn’t even told Morgan. “There was one time, I must have been 11 or 12. I was so angry at her one day. We had no food in the apartment, nothing – I had been eating saltine crackers for dinner for at least four days. She was standing at the kitchen counter opening another bottle of vodka she’d bought instead. And I was so angry. I asked her, ‘Why are you like this?’ And she looked at me – she didn’t even bother answering the question – she just looked at me and said, ‘You’re staring into your future, Bee. It’s inevitable. What I am is what you will be.’ And I told her that hell would freeze over before I became a degenerate like her. And she grabbed…” Bee paused, remembering the moment so vividly in her mind, as if it had just happened yesterday, even going so far as to pretend to grab a glass with her hand for emphasis, “she grabbed the glass that was on the counter, and she hurled it straight towards my head. I ducked, and it hit the fridge behind me and shattered all over the floor by my feet. We stared at each other for a few seconds before I said, ‘I hate you with every fibre of my being’. She didn’t even respond. She didn’t even grab another glass either, she just took the bottle straight to the couch and began to swig it.”

It was clear Andy was uncomfortable. To think that a parent could ever do that to a child was incomprehensible to him – it was incomprehensible to most people, not just him. And yet, she had to live through it. He quickly wiped a tear that had fallen onto his cheek. “You were born for a life so much better than what you were placed in,” his voice was soft, still reflecting and picturing the scene she had painted for him in his mind.

“That’s what I left behind. That’s the weight that’s been lifted off my shoulders. I don’t have to think about that anymore.”

“Did it ever happen again? Did your mother ever hit you?” Andy asked.

Bee shook her head vehemently. “She was always too drunk. It was more so emotional, if we’re referring to abuse. And, you know, neglect.”

“You deserved so much better. No child should have had to go through that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m so happy you found us Briony. I’m so happy that you overcame that and you’re here with us now.”

“Thanks, Andy.”

“There’s no reason to thank me. You did it all yourself. I’m just thankful that you’re part of our family now.”

A sob escaped her at his last comment. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, and she let go, letting the tears well up in her eyes despite telling herself she wouldn’t cry. She didn’t want to shed tears over her mother, but she could shed tears over Andy saying something like that to her. “You have no idea,” she said, shaking her head. “You have no idea how amazing these last few days have been. I’ve never felt so whole in my entire life.”

“I know sweetheart. I can tell.”

“I can’t even begin to, like…” she couldn’t find the right words as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “I immediately felt this sense of like, warmness from the moment I met Morgan. He made me feel like I wasn’t alone anymore. That I had somebody. He’s been so good to me, Andy. So patient. You have to know how good he’s been. So understanding. You have to know you raised a good kid.”

“I know, sweetheart. Morgan adores you.”

“And then this week happened and you and Shirley and Connor have just been so nice and I…I know it’s sad to say but the only other people I’ve felt that with is my best friend’s family. But you guys are just so good, and I’ve had to pinch myself constantly this entire week.”

“I --”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve that comment you just made, about being part of your family. I don’t…I don’t know. But I love Morgan so much, and I know he loves me, and I know I’m gonna spend the rest of my life thanking my lucky stars that all this happened. And you have to know, you have to know, if hockey ended tomorrow I’d still love him with everything I have in me because he makes me feel so whole --”

“Sweetheart, sweetheart, I know,” Andy stressed, grabbing hold of her hands and squeezing them tightly as she let out a quick ‘I’m not in it for that’. “I know. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I can see it. Shirley and I – we can see it.”

“I just don’t want you to think --”

“I was never thinking that at all,” Andy shook his head. “You’re the farthest thing from what you’re implying and I know how much you care about my son.” He let go of her hands so she could wipe her remaining tears away. “Listen to me. You are deserving of every little good thing that comes your way, via my son or otherwise. You can’t feel like you don’t deserve it. Everybody deserves good things to happen to them.” Bee nodded her head at his words, trying to internalize them as much as possible. “You’re a great girl Briony, and you deserve the world. Everybody around you sees it. You just need to start seeing it too.”

Bee took a couple of minutes to calm down. She knew that everything Andy had just said was right, and she needed that time to really take it in. To accept it and own it and live with it as her new life mantra was going to be a separate battle, but right now, she needed to acknowledge the deeply intense heart-to-heart she’d just had, and how she felt much more clear about things – about her future – than she had coming into the conversation. “Thank you for listening, Andy.”

He smiled. “There’s no reason to thank me. This is what dads are for, Briony.”

“I’m sorry if I --”

“Don’t apologize for a single thing,” he said. “You just remember what I told you. That’s the only thing you need to do here. Remember that you are deserving of love.”

“Is everything okay?” Morgan’s voice, groggy and sleepy, was suddenly heard form the entrance of the kitchen. He stood in his pajamas, taking in the scene before him.

“Briony and I were just thirsty,” Andy said quickly, giving Bee a quick wink before getting up and putting his glass in the sink. “She couldn’t work our space fridge to get ice, either.”

“We should go back to using ice trays,” Morgan quipped. Briony couldn’t help but laugh – he and his father were truly the same person. She walked towards him, a small smile creeping on her face. He hoped that in his state, he wouldn’t notice that she had been crying, or that her eyes were red from the tears. “You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Let’s go back to bed,” she said, looking back at Andy. “Thanks again, Andy.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he smiled as they disappeared down the hallway.

When they got back into bed, Bee cuddled closer to Morgan, draping her arm over his torso so she could feel the warmth of his body heat against hers. “You sure everything is okay?” he whispered.

She nodded her head. “Yeah. Andy’s a really good dad,” was all she could say.

“He’s the best,” Morgan agreed, his eyes fluttering closed. “He’s who I want to be.”

“You’re already there, baby,” she whispered before they both fell asleep.

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #alone together series

193 notes · View notes

ariennemalfoy · 4 years

Text

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dramione Fanfics

Longer (Completed):

All You Want by Senlinyu (172,268 Words): Eighth Year at Hogwarts was supposed to be Hermione’s. And it is, just not in the way she expects. Omegaverse fic.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153092

Dangerous Desires by Fortem (182,350 Words): Draco Malfoy is an alpha and he is very used to getting what he wants but when his marriage negotiations begin his life gets far more complicated. Hermione Granger is an omega and just wants to be taken seriously. She'll do anything to overcome her station, even if it means making deals with a certain irritating Alpha.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11895291/1/

The Unofficial Diary of an Omega by MrsRen (29,178 Words): Hermione is certain this heat cycle will be the same as always. Except Luna Lovegood, close friend and fellow Omega takes it upon herself to create a service that matches Omegas with compatible Alphas. What Luna fails to mention to anyone at all, is the aspect of the soulmate bond. [Wizarding AU where Voldemort died in the first war.] [WIZARDING TINDER.]

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12996809/1/

A Heated Marriage by mrsaturtle (Deleted)(18,224 Words) (feel free to email [email protected] for a copy) Hermione Granger has lived with her guardian Lord Snape for a decade but now she's crossing Engl and to meet her intended, an alpha who can't wait to get his h and s on her. Her suppressants have stopped and when her heat crashes over her, a man she barely knows will become the only one who can get her through it.

Oneshots:

My Alpha, Draco by Lashes to Ashes (4599 Words): As the looming threat of Lord Voldemort draws ever closer, Hermione is given a secret mission. Get close to Draco Malfoy. All it took was one night. One night for the truth to come out and turn everything upside down. My take on an Alpha/Omega fic. Very mature and explicit - lots of lemons!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13093055/1

Marked by Monsterleadmehome (4492 Words): Hermione Granger's heat wasn't supposed to start for another two weeks. But that was before the intoxicating scent of an unknown alpha triggered it as they passed in the atrium. Can she make it through the rest of the day before starting her leave? And who is the mysterious alpha who smells like her perfect mate?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046587

Feeling the Heat by Flightglow32 (3241 Words): Hermione has a little problem when magical maintenance strike causing the Heat to rise. A/B/O fic. Smut

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123583

Basic Instincts by Safewordisdevilssnare (2382 Words): Being an omega in a war-torn Britain is bad. It's even worse since she was in heat and on the run from an Alpha tracker hot on her heels.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15214649?view_full_work=true

An Omega for his Birthday by weestarmeggie (2305 Words): Hermione Malfoy's husband, her Alpha, is avoiding her and she doesn't understand why.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12959705/1/An-Omega-for-his-birthday

Blood Moon Mania by dangelina (6883 Words):"A condition of mania used to describe sexually receptive females influenced by the desire to reproduce. Symptoms include changes in a witches’ scent, hyperactive senses, high body temperature, altered behavior, rapid breathing, heart palpitations. During the height of Frenzy a witch may release pheromones as ovulation occurs. These pheromones are known to cause aggression and altered mental states akin to madness."Hermione never was one for Divination. Unveiling the future through dreams? Tea leaves? How the stars sit in the sky? Seems woolly.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21021698?view_full_work=true

Sheer Lunacy by dangelina (9263 Words): “It’s nightshade wine. I don’t believe they use Deadly Nightshade anymore.” Draco mused, holding his glass by the stem as he swirled the wine in slow circles, “They say it causes delirium and hallucinations.”“The plant or the wine?” She eyed the Slytherin in astonishment.Malfoy lazily shrugged.Hermione glanced at the glass in her hand suspiciously before bringing it to her lips once more.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21144653?view_full_work=true

On Hinges, On Haunches zoomzoomzuppa (6732 Words): Draco is the alpha of his pack in a world forgotten by sleeping gods.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471271

WIPS:

The Program by ComfortableSilences: Alphas and Omegas depend on each other for relief from their designation. The longer that they deny their bodies' needs the worse the symptoms become. An Omega's heats will only get worse and more frequent, while an Alpha loses his control completely is launched into a rut. The Ministry launches a program to help deal with the Alpha/Omega problem in the Wizarding World. They offer the chance for relief without admitting to your designation. A matching system where an Omega can use an Alpha to see her through her heat and an Alpha can use an Omega to keep his sanity. The best part is it is completely anonymous, the matches are decided based on mutual attraction to each other's pheromones, and a potion prohibits the brain from recognising your partner.Hermione Granger has never been with an Alpha, her heats are becoming unbearable. Draco Malfoy begins to lose control of his body in his fight against his own designation. Ultimately they surrender to the program, knowing they have to face the inevitable lest they lose their own or take someone else's right to consent.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048587?view_full_work=true

Every Part of Me by PotionChemist: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy have been hiding a secret for the past five years. Something brought them together during sixth year and then the war ripped them apart. Four years after Voldemort’s defeat, Hermione is married to Ron Weasley and Draco has recently married Astoria Greengrass. When they reconnect at the annual Victory Ball, Hermione tells Draco something about himself that he never knew, and it explains why he’s been dreaming of her since he let her go…Is it possible that Fate herself tried to unite the two sides through Hermione and Draco? How did all of this begin in the first place? Can their damaged bond be repaired five years later?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289409?view_full_work=true

Bite First, Ask Questions Later by Daredevilsinthedetails, Kaylessi: Their world was at a boiling point. Currently, 25% of the magical world consisted of born Alphas and not a single new English Omega had presented since Halloween of 1981. Aggression, possessive behavior, and battles for dominance between the Alphas were making magical Britain a relative warzone. A laundry list of nefarious deeds by one deemed to be light and the cure to all of their problems resting on the shoulders of three unsuspecting students…what could go wrong?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253814?view_full_work=true

Closer by istsjustsilver: There is something wrong with Hermione.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17080448?view_full_work=true

Mine by mrsaturtle: Alphas and Omegas are a rare thing in Wizarding Britain. With slim options of Alphas, who aren't married or horrible men, Hermione all but begs Draco Malfoy, of all people, to get her through this heat. What happens when years of animosity and misunderstanding crash around them mixed with urges and uncovered desires.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13032480/1/Mine

Cherry Mint by dirtymudblood: "He could smell her.Even multiple train cars away, he could smell her. Except, Draco didn’t know who she was. He ignored his natural instincts to pant like a dog and follow the scent to the omega in the beginning stages of heat. Instead he willed himself to rub his knuckles against the rough wood of the table in front of him."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21053894?view_full_work=true

Omega and Alpha by JLWeaker: Wherein, Hogwarts is a place in enriching werewolves with their origins, history and potentially finding their mates and the houses are sort of packs that have little clusters in it. Harry was sorted to Slytherin were pureblood werewolves are located and becomes Draco’s Beta while Hermione is sorted to the Ravenclaw where unknown origins of wolves are sorted where she is under the care of Alpha Luna Lovegood.It was rare to find a mate outside of your house so when Draco had a hint that Hermione was his mate. It became a lot more complicated when a prophecy was thrown in the mix and a whole lot facts such us Hermione being human bred at the same time an Omega . Also, Hermione hasn’t turned and isn't fond with Draco because of their first meeting. So how will this story turn out? Just read it will you?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414440?view_full_work=true

These Walls by ArmyofBees: Hermione has eighth year planned out: throw herself into her studies, ace her N.E.W.T.s, and figure out a way to get her parents back. There are just a few minor wrinkles: PTSD, memory charm reversal, and face-like-a-Greek-god-but-morals-looser-than-his-purse Draco Malfoy. Oh—also the fact that Hermione is the first known omega to present in half a century and accidentally triggers an ancient, morally-grey spell that leaves the wizarding world's most eligible (and ineligible) Alphas spilling blood and galleons in a fight for a relationship with Hermione that she doesn't even want. Oops?By the end of it all, Hermione Granger is filthy rich, Draco Malfoy talks about his internalized misogyny in therapy, and Lucius Malfoy hasn't changed a bit.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097656?view_full_work=true

Dramione:A History of Magic: Dramione Drabble collection

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377496?view_full_work=true

All that is Rare by smithandbarrowman (Alpha Hermione!):In the wizarding world, it has long been assumed that men are Alphas and women are Omegas. However, when Hermione Granger discovers that assumptions are rarely factual, her status as one of only a handful of female alphas that has ever existed has men falling at her feet.But there’s only one man she wants, and like the male alphas before her, the hunt is on until he bears her mark.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21267383?view_full_work=true

#dramione #a/b/o dynamics #draco malfoy #hermione granger #fanfic #ao3 #fanfiction.net #alpha/beta/omega verse #dramione fanfic

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castlebay-crossing · 4 years

Text

The Villager in Tent Three: Chapter One

Summary: When Aisling leaves her hometown for the island of Castlebay, as part of Tom Nook’s Deserted Island getaway package, all she expects is sun, sand and plenty of solitude. But when she gets there, not everything is as the brochure said. Secretive villagers, judgemental neighbours, and an antagonistic photographer turn out to be the least of her worries, however, when the mysterious villager in tent three turns up dead one night after a vicious storm that left the only plane off the island grounded. Someone on the island is a murderer. And it’s up to Aisling to work out who it is. Before they come after her, too.

Warning: Major character death, some description of violence

TOP NEWS & ARTICLES

US Amazon sellers were told via email that they will have to pay taxes on some Amazon fees, as Etsy has been doing with sellers in the EU and in Quebec.

The Instagram look may be dropping out of favour; apparently, reality is in. “Instagram museums and walls were built to allow normal people to take influencer-quality photographs—but they worked so well, those types of photos became common enough that they don’t resonate like they used to. “#unfiltered

In case you missed it, my review of Etsy’s Spring & Summer Trends Guide, including all of the keyword data (which you do need to check out, as they reveal some interesting search info).

ETSY NEWS

Etsy published a new census/survey of sellers in its 6 core countries, and also did a summary (if you don’t want to read the whole thing). “More than nine out of ten Etsy sellers (91%) are the sole owner of their businesses.”... “The majority (82%) of Etsy sellers would like to grow their business, but more than three out of five would not want to grow so big that they would have to hire more help.”

The bugs & errors with financial statements and records continue; Etsy botched the VAT statements yet again, even overwriting them all the way back to 2016. No word on whether any sellers have notified EU authorities on this yet.

New seller handbook article covers advertising; not much new or gripping, but it does discuss general ad approaches, not just Etsy’s.

There is also a new free shipping tool, in case you didn’t realize that Etsy wants more sellers to offer free shipping more often. “When we talk to shoppers during research, many say things like “I want to feel like I’m getting a deal!” and “I would love to see free shipping across the board, even if it meant increased prices.” Offering free shipping can be a great way to give customers like these the shopping experience they are looking for.”

CEO Josh Silverman participated in The Wall Street Journal’s “In the Elevator” interview series [video link]. Every 90 seconds, an engagement ring or wedding ring sells on Etsy. He also talks about free & fast shipping not always being a reasonable expectation when shopping on Etsy, unlike Amazon.

Speaking of free shipping, a limited number of US customers will be getting it from Etsy, with Etsy reimbursing sellers for the costs. Non-US sellers and buyers get nothing.

Etsy’s 2019 1st quarter results will be available May 8.

SEO: GOOGLE & OTHER SEARCH ENGINES

Rand Fishkin released Part 5 of his Learn SEO in 1 Hour series: technical SEO [video & written transcript]. This is the one most of you can skip or just skim over, as it does talk a lot about coding.Some tips are important to everyone, however, like page linking/site structure (for websites), and having https set up.

Part 6 covers link building, in 10 minutes. Remember, if you are going to put effort into getting links, do it for your website & not your Etsy shop or other marketplace page. If you are creating traffic, make sure you own it.

Don’t forget looking beyond Google for your search engine traffic; this podcast [with written transcript] breaks down an approach to several of the biggest ones beyond Google. Spoiler: they only recommend worrying about the biggest, Bing, if you have around 1000 unique search visitors to your website per day.

How to get keyword ideas from the Google search results: there’s a lot more available now, beyond the search bar suggestions.

Google is asking local businesses if they would pay for their Google My Business listings. This possibility raises concerns about the impact on organic rankings.

More SEO tips for Amazon, including discussion of the various factors involved.

If pages on your website aren’t indexed by Google, there are some steps you can take to fix them. (For websites only, not Etsy shops)

Advanced/semi-advanced content: Great tips on using bookmarklets in Chrome to get SEO things done quickly. (A lot of these involve tools that work best in the paid version, so I suspect most of us will not have much use for this, yet.)

Possible Google algorithm update last week. (I am seeing changes)

CONTENT MARKETING & SOCIAL MEDIA (includes blogging & emails)

Looking for new hashtags for your social media accounts? Try: https://www.tagshitter.com (apologies for the name; that’s what they call it. It’s good, too! Just like its regular keyword research partner, http://keywordshitter.com/ )

Email subject lines [infographic] are crucial to top interaction with your newsletter etc. Includes Dos & Don’ts, plus the shockingly low open rates in most industries.

Selling through social media directly is a great way to avoid people losing interest as they keep clicking. Note that this seems to work best with items under $50, though, which they suggest solutions to in the next part of the article.

Despite all the scandals and negative media coverage, US social media use hasn’t really changed in the past few years. “A 2018 Center survey found that some Facebook users had recently taken steps to moderate their use of the site – such as deleting the Facebook app from their phone or taking a break from the platform for some time. But despite these findings and amid some high profile controversies, Facebook users as a whole are just as active on the site today as they were a year ago.”

Facebook scandal watch: FB’s “stock price jumped after it said it expects to incur a fine of up to $5 billion from the Federal Trade Commission. And that’s all you really need to know about whether the historically large penalty matters to the company.”

Also:

they admitted to asking for your email password then importing all of your contacts. “...Facebook disclosed to Business Insider that 1.5 million people's contacts were collected this way and fed into Facebook's systems, where they were used to improve Facebook's ad targeting, build Facebook's web of social connections, and recommend friends to add.”

The Canadian Privacy Commissioner is taking FB to court over breaches of Canadian privacy law.

But hey, it’s all fine, because they beat earnings expectations in the first quarter.

70% of YouTube videos watched are recommended by its algorithm. “ The recommendations are fueled by the artificial-intelligence arm, Google Brain, of YouTube’s parent company. The machine-learning models help identify videos that aren’t exactly what you just watched, but similar enough that you might like them.“

Does directing people to the link in your Instagram bio really work? Testing says that it probably doesn’t work for most accounts, and more importantly, that Instagram may be limiting the algorithm visibility of posts that direct visitors to the link in your bio.

Twitter has now limited the number of accounts you can follow in 1 day, to 400 down from 1000; this is intended to cut back on spammers.

US Twitter users are better educated & better off than the average American.(Good article for target market considerations)

ONLINE ADVERTISING (SEARCH ENGINES, SOCIAL MEDIA, & OTHERS)

Amazon is reducing/removing the ads for its own products, possibly due to increased complaints of unfair competition. “Amazon is now the third-largest digital advertising platform, behind Google and Facebook”, and could grow 50% this year alone, based on projections.

Facebook retargeting tips. And everything you need to know about the Facebook pixel for tracking your ad performance.

STATS, DATA, OTHER TRACKING

Some Google Analytics tips for websites - almost beginner level!

The Google Search Console delays are nearly all fixed.

Stats programs all give you different numbers, and that isn’t likely to improve. (This piece is semi-advanced; don’t bother with it if you aren’t a stats geek.)

ECOMMERCE NEWS, IDEAS, TRENDS

eBay’s Spring Marketplace Updates include several back end changes and a fee increase for sellers who run afoul of eBay’s seller performance standards.

Amazon sellers can buy so-called “black hat” services to beat its algorithms. These include tips from Amazon employees who are making money by reporting on Amazon’s inner workings. Amazon “also said it takes action against sellers who pay for internal information; penalties include terminating their selling accounts, deleting reviews, withholding funds, and taking legal action.” No doubt the company already has closed some of the loopholes discussed in the article.

Amazon also fires warehouse workers by algorithm, based on productivity.

GoDaddy launches an ecommerce sharing tool that lets you list across multiple websites including your standalone. Current marketplace options include Etsy, Amazon, eBay, Jet & Walmart. They bought Sellbrite as part of this move. Quite a few different entities are releasing this type of service, so shop around if it is something you are interested in.

eBay released their 1st quarter 2019 results on April 23. Total sales were down 4% from 2018 (they were close to even when currency fluctuations were accounted for), but eBay’s own income from seller fees was up. “eBay reduced their marketing by a significant amount where their cash was being used to effectively subsidise the sales of high value items. Put simply, eBay have been buying sales and now they’ve stopped and this has seen a reduction in high ticket items being sold in comparison to sales of lower value items.” Easter being later this year may have slowed ecommerce growth overall in the quarter.

...but Amazon reported record revenue, up 16.9% over 2018. Despite that, analysts note that growth is slowing, & that Amazon’s own projections for the second quarter are lower than many predicted. “Amazon’s CFO Brian Olsavsky said during the call with analysts that part of the lower guidance is due to an $800 million investment in making free one-day delivery shipping the default for Prime members.” - if you thought buyers wanted stuff yesterday already, wait til this becomes the norm ... I mean, Walmart & Target stocks fell after the announcement. Walmart is already hinting at offering the same.

You can return your Amazon purchases at Kohl’s in the US, starting everywhere in July. Ease of returns is going to be a bigger battleground in the next few years, as retailers continue to increase free & speedy shipping options.

BUSINESS & CONSUMER STUDIES, STATS & REPORTS; SOCIOLOGY & PSYCHOLOGY, CUSTOMER SERVICE

Generation Z will be making 40% of US retail purchases by next year; they are going to change a lot about selling. “ Fair trade products, ethical business practices, and a strong mission statement have never been more essential. Vend reports, “Research has shown that this particular generation cares about various environmental issues (76% are concerned about humanity’s impact on the planet) as well as social causes such as racial, gender, and income inequality.” [Gen Z come after millennials, and are currently more numerous than millennials or boomers.]

Millennials & Gen Z are big gift card buyers in the US - over 1/3 buy a card every 3 months.

Brick & mortar stores & malls are using your phone location data (location analytics) to make marketing and product decisions. “Every company interviewed for this story said it chooses not to use information that could identify individuals. But for the most part they’re on an honor system because rules governing data remain relatively lax.” This surprised me: “To glean details, including an individual’s age, income, ethnicity, education level, number of children and more, firms connect the phone’s evening location with U.S. Census data”

MISCELLANEOUS

US copyright law: the USSC rules that your copyright registration must be finished/approved before you can sue an infringer in federal court.

If you hate Gmail’s current layout, you will love this Chrome extension.

And if you use Google Sheets fairly often, you will likely learn something useful from these tips.

Google’s parent company, Alphabet, missed industry revenue expectations in the first quarter of 2019.

#seo #search engine optimization #etsynews #analytics #stats #social media #contentmarketing #ecommerce #smallbiz #cindylouwho2newsupdates

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babywarg · 5 years

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ironstrange multipart fic: Settling for a Miracle [3/?]

Chapter Summary: Stephen works part-time for Tony Stark, but their relationship ends up being more than employer-employee. Stephen asks what’s really going on.

Notes: The events in this part take place in the course of a year after Stephen’s return from Kamar-Taj. I’m placing the last scene in or around 2015.

I had not quite expected the relationship between Tony and Stephen to be this slow a burn - but it’s working out (I hope)!

Stephen's colleague Sandra Clarion is an original character. Nice name for a superhero, though, yeah? :D

Originally on AO3.

***

Tony gestured to the piece of paper in his hands. "You want to delete all of these modules?"

Stephen shrugged. "You said to cut out the non-essentials. So I did."

Tony turned his attention back to the paper, stroked his chin briefly.

"Yeah, but see - this would take up over half of the entire services array, and some restructuring will need to be done to the core. This might set us back a couple of weeks, if you’re okay with that?"

"I looked at the functionalities from the point of view of a surgeon. It's still from that point of view that I'm defending my feedback." He was prepared to be hard-nosed on this, but he figured that a softer tone of voice would get better results. "Trust me, Tony. You won't be able to sell a non-invasive surgical application with that much bulk. You can make all the other functions optional, if you really want to keep them - but what I've listed there is all you need for the base product."

Tony groaned and scratched his head.

"Gotta say, the design team's not going to like it. They worked their asses off to streamline everything already, so to cut things down further will mean an overhaul. "

"I thought you were the design team," Stephen wryly noted.

"Yeah, and you can see you’re giving me a hard time!" Tony exclaimed. "Are you absolutely sure about this?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow. Tony sighed.

"Okay, doc, I trust you. We'll need an extra week, maybe two, to fix this up, but we'll manage."

Tony set the paper down on his desk.

"Now that's out of the way, how are you finding your new lab?"

Stephen could have easily (and honestly) said it was the most advanced research facility he'd ever set foot in, and shamelessly gushed over the convenience offered by the holographic interface - but he was enjoying being listened to. He coolly answered "It's...adequate."

"Adequate is good." Tony was not visibly fazed by this display of dominance. "I don't want you wanting for anything. If you need something, you let me know, all right?"

"I will," Stephen said with a nod. "I'll have time to drop by the lab again tomorrow, so I may have some suggestions to give you over our planned dinner this Thursday."

Tony smiled. "Sounds good, doc."

***

As he made his way out of the building, Stephen came across someone he knew: Sandra Clarion, a cardiothoracic surgeon based in the Upper East Side.

She was just coming out of a meeting, too - apparently, they were both in Stark Tower on that day to attend meetings regarding their respective Stark-funded projects.

Stephen had some free time, and apparently, so did Sandra, so they chatted while walking out of the building together.

They couldn't give too much away, of course, but they could at least gripe in generalities; Sandra was saying she had had enough of meetings. She was part of a team that was developing new medicines (she couldn't say for what) for Stark Industries’ pharmaceutical arm, and she was tired of butting heads with people both on big things, like budget and delivery timelines - and small things, like whose turn it was to fill up the coffee machine at the lab.

Stephen sympathized, but had to admit he couldn't share her pain: as far as he knew, he was the only one in charge of the projects to which he was assigned. He had no set times, so he could report to his lab any time he wanted - and no team with whom he occasionally needed to butt heads. In fact, the only person with whom he corresponded was Tony Stark, and they hadn't really disagreed on much, so far.

This made Sandra stop walking and look at him incredulously.

"The man himself?" she asked. "Seriously?"

Stephen frowned, puzzled. "...The man himself, yes."

"That's...interesting." She resumed walking, and so did Stephen. "I was told Mr. Stark never personally oversees anything. He's got a supervisory board for med-tech projects and he leaves everything in their hands. You're literally the only consultant I've met who talks to him directly."

Stephen knew it was a bad time to mention that he actually had Tony's private, personal number. Or that they were on a first name basis. Or that they were scheduled to have dinner on Thursday.

"Unless you're the project?" Sandra's smile held a touch of mischief. "Forgive me, but that's the only explanation I can come up with off the cuff."

"I think you're overthinking it," Stephen admonished. "Our research is confidential. He just wants to keep the information flow close."

"All our research is confidential," Sandra pointed out. "But apparently, when it comes to you, he wants to keep it especially close."

Like Stephen's old self, people knew Sandra Clarion to be exceptionally direct. He figured it was a useful trait for a medical professional, but there were times - such as this one - when he was glad he and Sandra didn't share a specialty, so they didn't have to run into each other and get to talking like this often.

They stopped walking where Sandra could hail a cab. Stephen would walk back to his car as soon as she was safely in one.

"Whatever you're insinuating," he told her, "I doubt a man like Tony Stark has the time for it. On top of owning a mega-corporation, he's still Iron Man."

Sandra patted him on the shoulder.

"Hey, wouldn't be hard to see why he'd take a special interest. You're Doctor Strange, after all - one-of-a-kind miracle worker, back from the brink of death with a mission to save lives. That makes you the medical world's version of Iron Man, right?"

Before Stephen could refute that statement, an empty cab arrived. They muttered hurried goodbyes to each other, with a promise to keep in touch (which neither of them intended to keep), before Sandra got in.

As he was walking back to his car, Stephen wondered if he hadn't made a mistake telling Sandra about his correspondence with Tony. He was sure that piece of information would make its way into the rumor mills in the exclusive medical circles of which Sandra was a part; he wondered how that would possibly complicate his time as a Stark consultant.

The last thing he needed now, as he was struggling to regain his footing as a doctor, was complication.

Presently, however, he shook off his worries with an annoyed sigh. If "less complicated" was the goal, the first thing required to achieve it was not caring about what others thought.

***

Still...

Every day, it became clearer to him how perceptive people like Sandra Clarion could imagine that he and Tony shared a special connection.

Fact was, Tony Stark phoned or texted him almost daily.

At first it was just to tell him about a new idea Tony had for their projects, which Stephen just internally filed away for further deliberation.

Then, it was to ask how Stephen's day went, because he was, in his own words, "in a meeting and bored."

Then it escalated to not so discreetly humblebragging about how his day went.

Busted a terror cell. Saved the world again today. How's tricks?

Stephen never missed the chance to answer with a humblebrag of his own. Cleanly removed a brain tumor from an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court. Saved the Constitution, one hopes.

And then, there were the fancy dinners. Tony was often out of town, either on business or on a mission. When he was in town, he made a point of telling Stephen about it.

And asking him out.

Tony had go-to places where paparazzi were not welcome. Those were upscale coat-and-tie places, which wreaked havoc on Stephen's budget by making him rent formal wear way too often.

Still, he appreciated the discretion - as well as the fact that Tony always picked up the check. Even if he wasn't working in ER anymore, Stephen had begun taking on a lot of pro bono cases in private practice; it kept him occupied, but poor, and they both knew it.

Stephen began to look forward to these dinners. They'd become a pleasant way to unwind, and to get plans concerning the med-tech projects in order.

But by their third dinner, their projects had stopped being the main topic of conversation. They had begun trading stories about work, or else light-hearted banter which, Stephen was aware, would come across to a spectator as mildly flirtatious.

"Ha! Knew you'd like the lobster. I win."

"Oh, sure. Hard shell outside, melts in your mouth inside. That's a likeable trait even in people."

"Oh that mouth knows what melts in people, too, does it?"

"This mouth has been to med school and knows a lot of things."

The level of familiarity they enjoyed during these dinners made Stephen feel like he and Tony Stark were either good friends taking the mickey out of each other...or a businessman and a doctor out on a date.

He wasn't sure how he felt about either possibility yet.

Tony was an attractive man...yes. But even attractive, accomplished, obscenely wealthy people had agendas. In fact, most of them were upfront about it. If they weren't, it was cause for concern.

Before he let Tony further into his life, he needed to know what the man had up his sleeve.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask," Stephen began while they were on their post-dinner drinks, and Tony was a chuckling kind of tipsy. "I don't want you to take it the wrong way."

Instead of recoiling, or brushing him off, Tony leaned forward, rested his elbow on the table and his chin in one hand. "Wow. Sounds ominous. Go ahead?"

"Why do we do this?"

Tony blinked, feigning innocence. "Why? And do what?"

"You know what I mean. We can discuss work at any other time of day. Dinner has...significance. You must've read the gossip columns."

"They pop up on my feed from time to time," Tony acknowledged. He read everything. So did Stephen - but owning a company that had tendrils in world affairs (not to mention, being an anti-terror vigilante officially-unofficially allowed to independently operate by the US government) meant Tony's daily news feed cast a wider net.

If the gossip columns had reached Stephen's feed, that meant they had certainly made it to Tony's.

MYSTERY DATE, Stephen recalled one of the lurid headlines screaming. Who's Tony Stark seeing these days? While we don't have pictures or a name yet, word on the grapevine is it's a certain high-profile doctor known for his, shall we say, magic hands...

"But it's just talk," Tony argued. "People talk, Stephen. Are you trying to tell me it bothers you?"

"'Bothered' isn't the right word. Try curious."

"About what?"

"Is there something you need from me besides the work I already do for you?"

This was direct enough. Tony leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest, some of the buzz from the after-dinner drinks apparently dissipated.

"What is it you think I need from you, doc?" He said "doc" when he wanted to pull back from Stephen a bit. It was still friendly distance, but when he switched abruptly from "Stephen" to "doc," the distance was more pronounced.

"Nothing as inelegant as the columns are making it sound," Stephen assured him. "But I admit to entertaining one possibility, in particular. I'm just going to lay it out now. You'll need someone very familiar with neurophysiology for delicate surgical procedures..." He gestured with a nod to Tony's arc reactor. "...if you wanted to remove a large implant from your body, say."

Tony held his gaze. Stephen was making a gamble, he was aware. It might, at best, mean an end to all pleasant dinners, and at worst, lead to his termination from all Stark projects.

But it was a gamble worth taking. He had to know.

"You're saying," Tony said slowly, "I'm trying to get close to you because I want you to be my doctor."

Stephen cast a brief deferential glance down at the tabletop. "I don't want to offend you..."

"Do you think I'm offended?"

He shook his head. "I can't read minds, Tony. Sometimes I wish I could."

Tony was silent for a bit, looking at him. Stephen let him be silent.

Presently, Tony heaved a huge sigh.

"I'm not offended, Stephen. I'm used to it. This is a transactional world we're living in, after all. Everybody wants something from someone."

He sounded almost cold. He touched the spot where the arc reactor shone brightly through the fabric.

"But if you're saying I want your help to remove this...I'll have to stop you. Right there. Because, who says I want it taken out in the first place? The one thing that turned my life around? Who the hell says I want anything in my life right now removed?"

And now, he was almost hostile. Stephen stayed quiet. He felt he owed Tony that much.

"Maybe I want something added. Maybe I think that having new people in my life who can keep up with me and whom I can actually hold decent, funny, human conversations with is actually, I don't know, a good thing. And maybe I do want something from you, but maybe that's all I want. How's that?"

He'd upset Tony, but Stephen noted with some fascination how Tony managed to stay gracious about it. He appreciated it; Tony was one of the very few people he actually related to on a personal level. This told him that, even if Tony wanted a clean break from him after this, it was going to be an amiable one.

"I don't care if people just hang out with me because they want my money, doc. But if all you think people want out of you is your ability to use a scalpel, well..." He looked Stephen up and down. "I want you to reevaluate the people you hang out with. You're worth more than that."

"So are you."

That just slid right out of Stephen. He hadn't meant to interrupt, but Tony had just said something that was difficult to hear, and he wasn't going to let it go unchallenged.

"Tony." Stephen leaned forward, clasped hands on the table. "If you think I agree to meet up with you outside of work because I want your money, I'm offended. Money isn't what drives me, not anymore."

"So why do you agree to it?" Tony challenged. "What drives the great Doctor Strange to do this crazy thing called spending time with me?"

The answer was easy. Stephen took no time thinking about it:

"The weird fact that we can make corny lobster jokes and laugh loudly and get funny looks in fancy restaurants...and not give a shit."

This elicited a laugh from Tony.

It was a welcome laugh, which unknotted something in Stephen's chest.

"You're a piece of work, Strange," he commented. "Don't think this gets you out of having dinner with me."

"Consider me warned," Stephen said with a relieved smile.

***

It didn't get him out of corresponding daily with Tony Stark, either. Soon after that potentially awkward dinner, they somehow graduated to Good morning, sunshine. Time to get your lazy ass out of bed texts from Tony Stark. At 3 AM.

Though it wasn't as if Stephen had wanted that to stop.

Rude wakeup texts from Tony in the morning, gentle reminders to get some restful sleep from Stephen at night: they'd fallen into routine. Those texts placed a neat little frame around messages about random things, or else their med-tech projects (which, over time, had been whittled down to just two, simply because they were both too busy to handle more: the Strange Device, and BARF).

They still had dinner, though over many months, those had become much less frequent. Tony was getting busier with SHIELD matters, and Stephen was interacting more with local and foreign specialists, trying to save more patients' lives.

Then one day Stephen got a text:

Would sure be nice to see your face again soon.

Stephen almost felt the longing in those words, and it threw him off-balance for a bit.

Quickly, he collected himself, and replied, Bring your mug over any time you're free. The face is ready for you.

He was just putting his phone back in his pocket when another text came through: Hope it's less ugly than when I saw it last.

Stephen laughed to himself. Real mature, Tony, he mused. Whatever happened to "pretty face" and upgrading from Vanity Fair?

Peter Parker had caught him mid-chuckle.

"Hey, doc," the boy greeted. He had been sitting on the floor outside the door to Stephen's apartment for some reason, and Stephen wondered how long he'd been there. He stood as Stephen approached, cast an inquiring glance at his cell phone. "Who's that? Your girlfriend?"

Stephen kept his gaze on Peter's face level, and put his phone away without deigning to respond.

"Were you waiting for me, Peter?"

"Um, yeah." The boy scratched the back of his neck shyly. "I was kind of just wondering...you're a doctor. Does that mean you're good with, uh, science and...stuff?"

Stephen shrugged. "Science and stuff? Fairly good, I'd like to think. Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if you could help me out with, um, chemistry." Peter didn't even sound sure about that; it could have been any other subject. "See, I'm struggling with it some in school, and May says I should ask around for someone who can help. And you were the one who came to mind." He seemed to suddenly hear himself, and he put up both his hands in a gesture of surrender. "But it doesn't have to be you! I know you're busy and all, being this big-shot doctor, so maybe you can just point me to someone else who could..."

"Peter," he calmly interrupted, "it's all right. I'll tutor you. I won't be available every night, but would twice a week work?"

That ended up being easier than Peter might have expected. It caught the boy by surprise.

"Twice a week is...fine! Thanks, doc!" Remembering something important, he ventured "Um...how much are you charging? It's by the hour, right? I've never really had a tutor before, so..."

Stephen shook his head. "May has you send over food when she's made too much. I'll consider this my payment, for her kindness and yours."

He exchanged numbers with Peter, so they could set the time and place for their first tutorial session. Peter thanked him profusely before rushing back to his own flat to, quote, "tell May the good news."

As he watched the boy run off, Stephen noted that Peter seemed nervous - noticeably more than he usually was.

He also wondered why Peter would think of him. Sure, they'd been interacting quite a bit over the past year, but surely there was someone more accessible to Peter who could serve as his tutor - a classmate, perhaps? A more knowledgeable upperclassman in need of extra cash?

Most worryingly, Peter had always struck him as a smart boy - a mathlete, a fixture in academic competitions, and handy with computers. May and some of the other neighbors were even overtly proud of him for it. For him to suddenly say he was bad at science was...certainly unexpected to Stephen.

But no matter. He would have time to figure it out.

In the meantime, he wanted to just get back into his flat. It was getting late, and it was perhaps time to answer Tony's cheeky text with a proper "get some rest."

#ironstrange #tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #iron man #doctor strange #spider-man #strangeiron

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kiruuuuu · 6 years

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Bandit/Jäger oneshot in which Jäger is convinced that jerking off while wearing Bandit’s jacket is the best thing since sliced bread. (Rating E, explicit smut/eventual fluff, ~6k words) - written for @blitznbandit. Happy Birthday!! 💞💞

The music is loud enough to dampen all other sounds, the usual hard rock Bandit favours, full of cheesy guitar riffs and dudes singing about all the things these kinds of dudes normally sing about – and yet Bandit’s voice easily pierces the cacophony despite being nothing more than a low purr: “I can’t take my eyes off you, you’re beautiful. I could do this all night.” One of his hands pushes under Jäger’s t-shirt, rubs over a nipple while the other continues to slowly but surely drive him insane, keeps the strokes slow. He knows exactly how Jäger likes it, massages the head and his balls now and then before his fist closes around the shaft once more to continue the teasing. They’re in a remarkably clean bathroom somewhere, probably a club, both of them sober but having made the decision to go pee at the same time? No, that’s right, Bandit dragged him here after undressing him with his eyes, couldn’t stand to be separated from him just a minute longer.

When Jäger throws his head back into the pillows at a particularly vicious throb of his rock hard erection, the headphones almost get pushed off his ears and so he has to momentarily withdraw his one hand to adjust them before he pushes it back under the jacket, the only piece of clothing he’s wearing right now. The rhythm of the song returns, resonating in his body, and he sinks back into his fantasy like a comfy blanket.

He was cold earlier, on the way to the club or pub or wherever they are, that’s why he’s wearing it. It fits him perfectly, the soft leather like a second skin and it smells like Bandit, too, dizzyingly so because Jäger’s toes curl every time he moves and catches a whiff of it. In a way, it’s like being hugged by Bandit constantly, and so his projection does, whispers more filth into Jäger’s ear as he proceeds to jerk him exactly how he likes it only now there’s an edge to his voice. He sounds strained and keeps glancing down, is clearly affected by what he sees and it won’t be long until he’s tired of waiting, until he turns Jäger around and fucks him, right then and there in the really quite clean bathroom, claims his body, moans into his ear as he thrusts into him and reaches around to continue -

Jäger gasps and lies to himself for a second, pretends he’ll go for another round if he finishes early but it’s only his impatience getting to him – this together with the mental image of Bandit losing control due to his unbearable desire is too much and he’s so close already. Breathing heavily, he forces his own hand away from his weeping dick and strokes his thigh instead, forces himself to wait a bit before he continues. In his mind, Bandit is teasing him, denying him his release so they can come simultaneously, telling him how good he feels as he keeps pushing into Jäger’s hole which is tingling pleasantly right now. Maybe he should go a step further today, he has enough time. It’s tempting.

For now, he has to pace himself. He could take a break and possibly dig up Bandit’s aftershave as well, change positions and reach a bit lower, to the place where his fingers are lazily trailing now, brushing over his scrotum, travelling further south. He decides to go for it but first, he needs lube, so he heaves a shaky sigh, opens his eyes and does not expect Bandit to just stand there two metres away, staring at him directly with a small, disbelieving grin on his lips and his phone in his hand.

The panic is instant and follows the second in which Jäger’s heart literally stops in horror because not only has he just been caught in the act of wanking on Bandit’s bed wearing nothing but his trademark jacket, no, he’s been caught by the devil himself. Before the consequences which undoubtedly await him register, he jerks upright into a sitting position, dumbly shielding his cock from view, and pushes the blasted headphones off. It’s not even the first time he got caught while wearing some, that’s the beauty of it, he really should’ve known better, learnt from his adolescence but he’s already defending himself from himself mentally, recalls the fact that Bandit wasn’t supposed to be in the base the entire day and yet the only thing he blurts out is a heartfelt: “Fuck.”

“Oh yeah”, Bandit agrees with him and lets his grin morph into the sleaziest smirk Jäger has ever seen, “you fucked up, babe. Big time. Normally I have to pay for a show like this.”

“Delete it”, Jäger demands with burning cheeks.

“Oh, they’re on my cloud now”, Bandit replies innocently while tapping away at his screen – at least his gaze isn’t focused on Jäger anymore.

“Delete it all, Dom.”

“Whoops, I sent them to myself via email.” His teammate wiggles his eyebrows at him. “What a shame, I deleted all my saved passwords from my phone. Even if you steal it, you won’t be able to access it to purge it all.”

Fuck, Jäger repeats in his head and frantically starts searching for an alternative. Have Mute hack Dom’s phone? Mute would probably save the incriminating evidence himself and blackmail Jäger with it in the future. Tell Blitz? Jäger would rather give up his mortal soul than admit to what he’s done. As terrifying as it sounds, Bandit himself seems to be his best shot. Or rather: the least worst. “Okay, look”, he begins and hates himself for how his voice cracks.

“Ready to bargain?”, Bandit guesses correctly with a wolfish grin. “That’s what I like to hear. What are you willing to do to make these oh so delicious photos disappear, hm?”

A dangerous question. An absolutely dodgy and perilous question, a slip-and-slide kind of question because Bandit grants him the option of proposing exceedingly desperate solutions which his teammate might not even have considered viable, discarding them because surely, Jäger would never. But right now, senses heightened due to the adrenaline spike resulting from the shock, skin tingling where Bandit’s gaze unapologetically rakes over it and mind still occupied with residues from his earlier fantasies, Jäger would. Oh would he ever. He looks at Bandit and pictures himself on his knees in front of him, for the first time in his life servicing another man and dear God this shouldn’t be turning him on so much. He bites his lip and remains silent, refuses to answer for fear of what might come out of his mouth.

“No offers? Alright, no problem. I actually have something in mind already.” Humming to himself, Bandit starts rummaging in his wardrobe as if finding one of his colleagues clearly masturbating to him was an everyday occurrence for which he’s perfectly prepared. Regardless of his mortification, Jäger is intrigued, his cock twitching in anticipation and his mind racing while trying to discern what it is Bandit has planned for him. It must be something filthy, maybe he’s going to torture Jäger with toys or maybe he’ll finally, finally go all the way. Not that he’s refused before seeing as Jäger never gave any indication on wanting it, but this would be the ultimate excuse. He can tell himself – and Bandit – he only gave in because he was blackmailed. Right? He’s chewing on his lip and tries not to let his excitement show on his face, not to let Bandit know how much he’s actually looking forward to whatever it is he’s going to do to him.

And then Bandit pulls something out of his closet and says: “Wear this.”

Jäger blinks. Looks at the outfit with an even expression and struggles to come up with a reply for a few seconds. Ignores Bandit’s predatory grin. He can’t be serious. “You can’t be serious. No fucking way.”

“Who do you think would appreciate the pictures the most? Elias? Maybe one of the girls?”

“You can’t make me put this on.”

“Oh, I can and I will. You break into my room, wear my jacket, choke the chicken on my bed and have the audacity to tell me you’re not going to do me this small favour?”

It’s – Jäger can’t do this, he’ll never be able to look into a mirror again. Mindlessly horny or not, there is a line and this is definitely crossing it, he’s fine with performing sexual favours for his own pleasure but this – this is too much. Why does Bandit even own one of these? “Over my dead body, Dom.”

Bandit’s grin widens. “Well, if you insist.” And Jäger is not sure whether he’s joking or not.

Two minutes later, Jäger is kneeling on Bandit’s bed, wearing every midlife crisis suffering pervert’s wet dream of a schoolgirl uniform and valiantly fighting the flush threatening to darken his cheeks. It’s a complete set together with thigh-high socks, a much too short skirt and even a loose tie over the tight blouse – and Jäger wants to die. As if him sporting this abomination of an outfit wasn’t bad enough already, Bandit’s devilishly pleased face only increases his embarrassment to a point where Jäger is this close to actually choosing literal death over this humiliation. Worryingly enough, his dick hasn’t received the memo it’s supposed to be disliking any of this and instead is straining against the underwear on which Bandit insisted. It’s too small and uncomfortable and Jäger rues the day he first laid eyes on Bandit because he’s the whole reason it’s come to any of this.

“Why do you have this”, he wants to know defeatedly. The clothes fit suspiciously well and the two of them are built very similarly, so -

“Shut up and spread your legs. You’re going to finish what you started earlier, only by my rules. How does that sound?” Bandit sits down on a chair he pulled towards the bed, not close enough to reach and yet entirely too close for comfort. His leather jacket is draped over the backrest and Jäger throws it a longing glance. He’d much rather wear it than this disaster.

Upon hearing Bandit’s plans for him, he can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment amid all the horror. He swallows his pride together with the that’s it? lying on his tongue and obliges, allows Bandit a better view and averts his gaze. He’s never done this, never dressed up and… performed for someone else’s viewing pleasure so he’s lost on what to do and how to do it. Arousal is still thrumming in his blood, convincing him to relax a little, give in, and yet he’s hesitant.

“You like this, don’t you?”, Bandit purrs and Jäger only just stops himself from nodding. “This is supposed to be a punishment though. You’ve been naughty, you dirty little slut.”

“Okay, no”, Jäger protests immediately in indignation, “I can – I can do what you asked, but that’s -”

“Fucking slut”, Bandit repeats with gusto and a triumphant grin. “My rules, don’t forget that. Besides, you were the one ready to nut all over my poor jacket. If you want me that bad, show me. Let me see how much you want this.”

Jäger remembers now why this is a bad idea: Bandit is going to be insufferable. Reluctantly, he lifts the edge of the skirt, revealing the outline of his erection which jumped happily at Bandit’s insults (something he’ll have to worry about later, now’s not the time). His teammate’s expression slips into self-satisfied and he stretches out on his chair in anticipation. “Lovely. Go ahead, then. Give me a show.”

With gritted teeth, Jäger pulls down the waistband of the panties, hooking them under his testicles and freeing his stiff member from its prison, and contemplates existence for a second. It’s entirely his own fault he’s here now, there’s no real denying it – he could’ve borrowed the jacket and none of this would’ve happened, he wouldn’t be wrapping his own fingers around his cock with Bandit watching intently. Somehow, it’s worse than being touched by him, he’d prefer Bandit using him instead of this where he himself is in control and has the illusion of agency. And despite the shock earlier, the tip is still sensitive to the touch, sends small electric shocks through his body on every light stroke.

He feels filthy, sullied purely by the fact that Bandit is watching him, that there’s an asymmetry between them: Jäger flushed, breathing unevenly and genitals exposed whereas Bandit is composed and fully dressed. It’s elating somehow, like being allowed something forbidden and so he tightens his grip and speeds up, even leans back and flips the skirt up so Bandit won’t bitch. He can’t lie to himself and pretend he’s simply jerking off like usual because he knows Bandit’s there even if he’s not looking at him and instead fixing his gaze on his own swollen dick, no, it’s completely different and… he can’t say he doesn’t like it.

“Were you thinking about me?”, Bandit asks innocently and Jäger loses his rhythm for a moment, glances up in disbelief. “Huh? Were you imagining my hands around your cock instead of your own?” He’s balancing his chair on two legs while regarding Jäger with a fond smile and in any other context it’d seem almost sweet – right now, it’s nothing but cheeky.

“I wasn’t -” He breaks off and gasps when the words finally register because oh yeah, it’s the logical conclusion from how Bandit found him, isn’t it? Therefore, Bandit now knows of his attraction, possibly guesses a crush and dear Lord. That’s not ideal, is it? He’ll shamelessly exploit his knowledge. Kind of like he is now.

“But you were. I didn’t know you liked me that much.”

“I don’t”, Jäger insists emphatically and vaguely panicked. Even after more than a year, Bandit still intimidates regularly him, his lack of conscience and overall callousness are alarming and the two of them clash now and then, neither of them ready to back down from an argument which often results in stony silence until they go drinking together and suddenly are best friends again. Bandit is fickle and vulgar and yet something about him appeals to Jäger, probably his softer side which surfaces rarely. He can be lovely and thoughtful and even compassionate, and thus Jäger’s mind wanders, conjures up situations where this complicated, complex man feels so drawn to him that his lust wins over common sense – and it’s fucking cliché, he knows that, as cheesy as it is improbable and so he’s ashamed to admit to his fantasies.

“No? You don’t?” Bandit acts surprised and for a moment, Jäger wants to trip his chair and send him flying. “If it’s not my charming personality, it must be my body. Right?” It warrants no answer and so Jäger simply concentrates on not coming too early – the temptation to end this as quickly as possible is strong, just like his desire, though he feels Bandit would make his dissatisfaction known in that case and he wants to avoid exactly that. “Maybe it helps you if I take off my clothes as well.”

Jäger stops moving his hand. While he’s frozen and simply staring at his erection framed by the pattered fabric of the skirt and the white lace, he hears rustling and feels his heart speed up. Slowly, he raises his gaze and is confronted with a flat belly first, then black ink on pale skin, meandering over pronounced muscles and distracting to a point where it takes Jäger several seconds to notice the dark metal. Jesus Christ. His shaft twitches in his fingers the moment he realises Bandit’s nipples are pierced and he watches, thunderstruck, as Bandit licks over the pad of his thumb and begins playing with one of the rings, his grin never once fading.

Holy hell. This is -

“Don’t fucking stop. You’re supposed to entertain me.” With a barely suppressed moan, Jäger resumes his strokes, drinks in the lithe body lounging in front of him and tries to picture the scene from outside – him in this ridiculous outfit, wanking to a half naked Bandit teasing himself. His eyes are drawn to Bandit’s crotch and find what they’re looking for, the outline of his boner visible even through the jeans and when he sees it strain upwards, he inhales sharply. “You want me to join you?”, Bandit questions him calmly and this time, Jäger gives a direct answer, nods eagerly and bites his lip when Bandit’s unoccupied hand starts unbuttoning his jeans. Excitement rises in him because even if he might not get to touch it, at least he’s going to see his dick and file the image away for later, for when he can ‘borrow’ the jacket maybe or find out where he buys his aftershave. He’s not obsessing about this. He’s not.

When Bandit pulls his erection out, Jäger’s first reaction is a bit underwhelming because hey, it’s a cock, very similar to his own, nothing he hasn’t seen before, only then his mind catches up that it’s Bandit’s and it’s in this state only because of him. Heat rises in him at this realisation and he subconsciously mirrors Bandit’s movements, slides his hand from the tip to the base a few times before going for shorter, faster motions which steal his breath away – though not nearly as much as the sight in front of him. He gets it now, gets the appeal of making someone else pleasure themselves. His eyes are glued to Bandit’s erect cock, to the wet head just as much as the long fingers massaging it, working the shaft, and yes. He likes this. It’s mutual, incredibly hot and relatively tame despite his costume. If this is all he’ll have to do, he’s more than fine with it.

“You’re enjoying this too fucking much”, Bandit pants, slightly shaken and not unaffected which intensifies the rush Jäger gets from all of this, “how about you put the ass in masturbate and finger yourself a bit?”

Well. So much for that. He halts for the nth time but is too far gone to stop touching himself entirely, strokes over the sensitive spot right below the head and moans involuntarily when he sees Bandit doing the same. “Can’t I just – ah – keep going like this?”

“Sluts don’t get to come from their dicks, sweetheart. Lube is in the drawer.”

When Jäger utters a breathy laugh at the blunt statement, Bandit’s serious façade crumbles and makes way for a short-lived genuine smile which usually shows when Jäger actually managed to amuse him and also destroys the illusion of a power imbalance momentarily. “I can’t do it the other way though”, he says as he crawls to the other side of the bed only to balk at the variety of items in Bandit’s bedside table. The skirt is brushing over his tip and he’s well aware of the view which he’s presenting to Bandit – butt raised in his direction – and yet can’t find the energy to care.

“So you’ve tried before?” Bandit sounds intrigued again and when Jäger shoots him a look and an affirmative though hesitant nod, the smile is gone, replaced by a fiery gaze and an expectant smirk. “How many can you fit in? Three? No, no, don’t take the panties off, just push them down and let me see.”

Jäger knows what he’s asking for and the thought causes all the embarrassment to return which vanished upon Bandit starting to jerk off as well. Uncertainly, he drags the underwear over his hips and shows his backside to his teammate, shuffle closer to the edge of the bed per Bandit’s instructions until his feet are dangling over it. He can only imagine what he must look like right now – basically offering himself, skirt riding up and barely covering his ass, white blouse flattering his narrow waist and thigh-high socks adorning his legs. The feeling of depravity returns once more because it’s a shameful pose, no matter how easily he relented. Without giving it too much thought, he flips the cap open and pours some lube into his hand, coats his fingers and reaches behind him.

“Just imagine it’s my fingers”, Bandit speaks up, voice thick. He seems to be enjoying himself if his laboured breathing is any indication, and so Jäger wastes no time and gingerly pushes one finger into himself, relaxes into it and tries to ignore his pose, him on his hands and knees just for Bandit. It helps to picture his object of desire behind him, pretend it’s him slowly working Jäger open, getting him ready for -

When he adds the second finger, his arm gives in and he buries his face in the blanket to muffle his moan because now he’s thinking of Bandit taking him again, the idea flighty and vague in his head yet oh so tempting. Bandit would claim him, show no mercy, lose himself and it’d be incredible. He can hear more rustling behind him, Bandit probably shuffling around on his seat, but the blood rushing in his ears is louder. It’s rare enough that he does this, breaches himself for the sake of mind-blowing pleasure, and now he’s showing it to Bandit of all people, his gaze setting him ablaze, mind running wild with hopeful thoughts.

“That’s right. Reach all the way inside. You look fucking amazing like this.” Jäger stifles another moan at the low rumble of Bandit’s voice and concentrates on the odd feeling his fingers are causing, not unpleasant but strange nonetheless. He hasn’t fully gotten used to it yet but inserts a third finger tentatively, stretches himself and feels his dick twitch in response. “You’re so eager. Do you do this often? Fantasise it’s my cock instead? I didn’t know you wanted me this badly, you little slut, you’d probably be happy choking on my dick, too.” Jäger is biting his lip once again, the words getting to him more than he’d like to admit. He feels like putty in Bandit’s hands, probably would obey his every order right now, especially if he were allowed to suck him off despite never have done so before. He’d find a way.

And then a hand comes down on his ass, hard. He jumps at the loud smack and it’s the shock more than actual hurt which causes it – Bandit is standing right behind him but Jäger can’t see because his face is still in the sheets and it’s the second time Bandit catches him unaware. “Take your fingers out”, he orders and Jäger does, slowly, leaves behind an odd, empty feeling, made even more vulnerable due to the fact that Bandit is this close now, can inspect it directly. “Do you want this instead?”

Before Jäger can ask, there’s something touching his backside, touching his hole and it’s blunt and hot and holy fucking Christ. It’s finally happening. He’s frozen, focuses on the silky smooth feel of Bandit’s shaft slowly rubbing up and down over his ring of muscle and has trouble breathing, clenches his fists, tries and fails not to tremble. “Huh? I can’t hear you. Do you want me to stick it in?” Jäger is tongue tied with how much he wants it, pushes against Bandit’s dick and is rewarded with another sharp slap to his ass which has him shy away. “As long as you don’t have a cock in your mouth, you can answer.”

Bandit leans over him for a moment and the next thing Jäger knows is an insistent tug at his throat, threatening to cut off his air and so he rises the more Bandit pulls on his tie, has it wrapped around one hand and drags Jäger so far up that he’s on his knees and fingertips now, wobbling unsteadily and eyes wide in alarm. He can still breathe shallowly and it doesn’t hurt but he doesn’t want to test his limits. “Marius, my dear friend and part-time slut, do you want me to fuck you right now or not?” Bandit sounds amused, as if he’s enjoying himself immensely.

“Yes”, Jäger whispers and sucks air in through his teeth when he feels Bandit’s thick head breaching him straightaway. His belly flutters and his mouth falls open at the intrusion, his ring of muscle pulsing around the shaft yet welcoming it easily due to the thorough preparation, and it’s – he feels it in his throat, every centimetre is like a landslide, fills him to the brim and makes him wonder how it’s possible for him to accommodate this much. He’s being complemented, becoming one with Bandit and despite the circumstances, it’s painfully intimate and causes a fuzzy, warm feeling to rise up in him. The pressure around his neck disappears once Bandit is buried fully in him and he sinks back down, pants against the sheets and experimentally squeezes around Bandit’s cock, relishes the sensation of it throbbing this deep. It feels even better than he thought it would.

“Fuck”, Bandit hoarsely voices all that Jäger can think right now as well, “oh fuck. You’re so tight. Oh my God.” Hands come to rest on Jäger’s hips, thumbs brushing over his lower back and Bandit withdraws, pushes back in and Jäger is lost to the world. It’s so different to anything he’s felt before, a much more fundamental pleasure, and he has to give himself up for it, trust Bandit to take care of him. His eyes fall shut and his toes curl during the next thrusts, still gentle, tentative, but then Bandit grabs the waistband of his skirt and starts dragging him to meet his movements as Jäger moans helplessly. Bandit’s earlier words come to mind for some reason – and right now, he admittedly does feel pretty slutty.

None of his wank fantasies could’ve held up to the real thing, it’s an odd mix of deliberate and wild, he’s being flooded with sensations yet they’re predictable to a certain point, reassuring and deeply satisfying. He rocks back into Bandit and his senses are being overloaded with intense lust, forcing moans out of his throat and making his thighs shiver – every thrust hits something inside him which makes him see stars, pushes him into the mattress as he just lies there and allows Bandit to take him apart without even considering touching himself. His dick is worryingly stiff and leaking copious amounts of precum, he’s never just dripped like this and yet it feels too good to end it this soon.

Curiosity and the need for a deeper connection win over his embarrassment and he props himself up on his lower arms, twists around so he can look at Bandit and has the sneaking suspicion he ends up gazing at him so lovingly and devotedly he must look like a newly deflowered virgin. He certainly still feels that fluttery thing in his stomach which probably also shows on his face, but Bandit doesn’t seem to mind his longing expression because he just flashes him an affectionate smile and starts petting him. Without interrupting his hard thrusts, he strokes over Jäger’s back, softly drags his nails over his scalp in a soothing gesture and brushes over his side before telling him: “You look so pretty like this.”

You too, Jäger thinks, flattered, and savours the view of all the intricate tattoos up close for a moment before a spike of pleasure makes him whine. Bandit’s eyes darken and he speeds up, reaches around Jäger’s body to jerk him to completion but slows down when Jäger asks him to wait. “Can we -”, he stops when Bandit bottoms out and has to take a deep breath before being able to continue, “- I want to… let me look at you.”

And Bandit returns his gaze, both fond and disarmed, before sighing and pulling out, making both of them groan. “Alright. Lie down.” He pats Jäger’s ass and removes the lacy underwear, crawls between his legs once Jäger has made himself comfortable on his back. Only now does he notice Bandit is actually wearing a condom, something which he didn’t feel before, and not for the first time is his mouth faster than his brain.

“Do you want to take that off?”

Bandit laughs in disbelief and scoots closer. “Are you fucking serious?” He slides back into Jäger and, once again, it’s entirely new since now they’re looking at each other, much closer than before and Jäger can’t help but feel up Bandit’s chest, trace the ink with his fingertips and pull lightly on one of the nipple rings while wrapping his legs around Bandit’s waist, barely taking notice of the long socks. “Looks like you really are a slut, you take my cock so willingly, you’re basically drawing me in yourself. How does it feel?” He thrusts deep and Jäger moans in response, arches his back and grips Bandit’s thighs. “Hm? How does my cock feel?”

He’s starting to get light-headed from the intensity of it, from finally being this close to Bandit, hearing him moan now and then, his features contorting in pleasure – he’s painfully attractive and simply looking at him sates a hunger inside Jäger of which he wasn’t aware previously. “It feels fucking amazing”, he replies quietly because it does but also because the smile he gets in return is blinding. He’s grinding against Bandit now, moving one of his hands to his own crotch to finish with Bandit fucking him what started as him being all alone.

“Yeah? You like it?”, Bandit wants to know and grins, satisfied, when Jäger just nods. “You look so cute, you know, like you can’t get enough. Maybe I’ll dress you up properly next time and fuck you so hard your mascara smudges.” For a moment, the image is in Jäger’s mind, him bouncing on Bandit’s dick in the same outfit as right now, nails and lips painted the same shade, and – and no, he can’t do that. He shakes his head slightly even as his hand speeds up, his muscles tensing. He realises with sudden clarity that he’s close, that he’s going to come with Bandit’s cock deep inside and Bandit looking down at him almost proudly and it’s all he ever wanted, even if he’s wearing a goddamn skirt. Every one of Bandit’s thrusts rock his whole body and he looks down to where they’re connected, can watch the shaft entering him over and over again and it feels so incredibly good.

“I’m gonna come”, he whispers and moans when his words earn him a brutal thrust which hits all the right spots, his hand tightening. “Oh fuck, Dom, I’m gonna -”

“Do it.”

And after Bandit has slammed into him a few more times, Jäger gets pushed over the edge, finally tips over into the promised land of sweet relief. Warmth spreads from his midsection, rushes down all the way into his toes, forces the air out of his lungs and has him curl up in bliss, disbelieving sounds falling from his lips as his dick pulses and spurts thick semen all over his clothes. It’s pure ecstasy, much more extreme than any orgasm he’s ever had before, shakes him to his core and leaves him quivering. Waves of pleasure muddle his brain so that he barely notices the gentle hand pushing his hair back and brushing over his eyebrows as he shudders and clamps down on Bandit’s erection.

While he coasts on the afterglow, slowly relaxing, loosening the death grip of his legs around Bandit and sinking back into the pillows, Bandit continues his affectionate ministrations, strokes his cheek, touches his parted lips, caresses his exposed throat and then massages his chest, digs his fingertips into his muscles and helps ground him, soothes his exhausted body. He stopped moving when Jäger came, displaying an impressive amount of patience and when he manages to open his eyes again, Bandit is regarding him almost victoriously. “Felt good?”, he asks.

Jäger just nods, still stunned, and when Bandit smiles yet again, he just – pulls him down and kisses him. Despite everything, they’ve barely touched the entire time so he’s starving for closer contact now, stretches towards Bandit and hums when he reciprocates, toys with his tongue and admits to himself that alright, maybe he does have a slight crush, but so what? Sure, maybe the target of his infatuation just made him wear this ludicrous costume and insists on calling him a slut but no one’s perfect, right? He’ll easily forgive Bandit everything as long as he won’t stop snogging him like this, thorough and filthy. Since Bandit hasn’t come yet, he pulls him in with his legs, rocks against him and moans into his mouth when Bandit understands and picks up where he left off, drives into Jäger and gasps when he clenches around him.

They never stop kissing until Bandit reaches his orgasm as well, one moment Jäger is sucking on his lower lip with abandon and the next Bandit tenses up and pants and groans against his neck, sheaths himself fully in Jäger and climaxes as well, body trembling under Jäger’s palms and cock throbbing. The sensation is addicting and part of Jäger wishes he’d gone bareback. Just so he can strike it off his bucket list, of course. For a few wonderful moments, it’s quiet, both of them concentrating on their breathing, Jäger basking in Bandit’s body heat, and then Bandit withdraws to tie off the condom and carelessly throw it to the floor. They look at each other, a little lost, and Jäger’s arms feel oddly empty all of a sudden.

“Can I take this off now?”, he eventually wants to know and Bandit chuckles.

“Sure. I’ll have to wash it anyway, you jizzed all over it.”

“I might regret the question”, Jäger responds as he’s unbuttoning the blouse, “but I just need to know: why do you own a schoolgirl outfit?”

“There’s a perfectly normal explanation. It was supposed to be Jackal’s Halloween costume but it was a little too short, so he gave it to me. I honestly didn’t think you’d be so into it, but here we are.”

“Here we are”, Jäger echoes and throws the second sock onto the floor. They look at each other again. “Are you going to delete the photos now?”

“Are you kidding? You jerking off in my jacket is the single hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen, there’s no way I’m deleting anything. But there’s also no way I’m showing anyone else. That shit stays with me. It’s mine now.” Oh. Alright. If he puts it like that, Jäger supposes he’s fine with it. Mostly. It’d be even better if Bandit wrapped around him again but that’s probably asking too much – they’re done with each other now, it’s like a finished transaction. Both of them got out of it what they wanted. Right? “What were you listening to, actually?”

Jäger opens his mouth but Bandit is faster, snatches the player still attached to the headphones which were discarded on the bed and scrolls through the playlist. The more he sees, the higher his eyebrows rise. “This is all – you always complain when I put any of this on. Do you even like this music? Man, you really must have it bad for me, eh?”

It’s a joke. Both of them know it’s a joke and yet he can’t bring himself to laugh, can’t even pretend to find it funny and so he stays dead silent. Bandit fixes him with a level stare. “You’re fucking with me.”

There’s nothing he can say. He has no defence and so he remains mute.

Bandit lowers the music player and blinks at him, his expression unreadable. “I need a smoke”, he announces and gets up, probably flees and Jäger can’t blame him. After all, this is coming out of nowhere and there was no indication this meant anything. Despite the way they beamed at each other. Despite all the kisses. Just as suddenly, Bandit changes his mind and sits down again, drags Jäger closer and manhandles him onto his lap, embracing him and hissing: “Fuck. You goddamn idiot. Fucking talk to me. How did you think wanking in my bed would help you in any way?”

“I just -” He doesn’t know. In a weak attempt at being funny, he offers: “I mean, it kinda did.”

A huffed laugh and then Bandit is locking lips with him again and this time, both of them are fully aware of what it means. Jäger smiles into it, holds on to him and kisses back contentedly, satisfied with just staying like this for a few minutes, the warm, fluttering feeling returning to his stomach. “I didn’t know”, Bandit murmurs eventually and Jäger shakes his head gently.

“I didn’t tell you.”

“Does this mean I can officially call you my slut now?”

Jäger snorts and jabs him in the ribs. “Absolutely not.” Then, all of a sudden, a different thought occurs to him: “Did Jackal give you the panties as well?”

And, with a wide grin, Bandit says: “No, don’t worry. Those are just my own.”

#rainbow six siege #bandit #jäger #bandit/jäger #fanfic #oneshot #I hope you like it and I wish you all the best!!#also kapcan I've not given up just been busy with this #expect a retaliation later today

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queseraone · 6 years

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Home: Chapter Eleven

Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm completely overwhelmed (and obviously thrilled) that so many of you are enjoying this tangled web I've woven! I apologize for being so slow to update, but life has been absolutely nuts (and unfortunately the crazy is just beginning, t-minus three weeks 'til baby!)!

Catch up here

Take this sinking boat and point it home We've still got time Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice You've made it now

—Falling Slowly (Glen Hansard)

Jay excused himself and went back upstairs to the guest room. He pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket and switched it on, bracing himself for what he would see when the screen lit up.

Aside from a couple of email notifications—a newsletter from his gym, an advertisement from a local health food store, a bank statement, a reminder to pay his water bill—there were no new messages. Just like the night before.

But unlike the night before, he shoved his nerves and uncertainty aside and did what he had been afraid to do then. With an unsteady hand, he opened his contact list and scrolled down to her name.

Erin.

And somehow he didn't hesitate for even a second before hitting the call button.

"We're sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again." A robotic voice quickly blared in Jay's ear, effectively bursting his bubble.

He wanted to throw up. Or burst into tears. Or scream. Instead, he whipped his phone across the room, not even flinching when it violently smashed against the wall, cracking the screen.

He felt like a complete idiot. Again. Still. As usual. She lived in another state and they hadn't spoken in four years, of course her old number didn't work. He just had never been able to bring himself to delete it.

Of course the reason for that had become painfully obvious over the last few days.

Jay stood frozen in place with his head in his hands as he tried to figure out his next move.

After a few minutes, he strode across the room and grabbed his now damaged cell phone up off of the floor. This time, he pulled up another number from his contacts. The line rang a few times before a familiar—albeit groggy—voice answered.

"Hello?"

Jay was quiet for a moment, trying to find the right words.

"Hello?" The voice called out again. "Jay is that you? Are you there?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'm here. I uh… I need your help."

"I know I said you could always talk to me but… um… Jay, we just got… y'know, we just got married last night… so… we're kind of… well… it's our—"

"Halstead! Fuck off dude, we're busy!" Ruzek's voice rang out from somewhere in the background.

Jay could feel the heat suddenly rushing to his cheeks at his foolishness. He felt like an idiot for what was probably the hundredth time already that day. Only he would be stupid enough to interrupt newlyweds the morning after their wedding. He felt even worse when he glanced at his watch and realized that it was somehow only nine o'clock in the morning.

"Adam!" Kim admonished as her voice became clearer again. Clearly she had snatched the phone back from her husband. "Hey Jay, you still there?"

"Yeah. But I'm going, I'm really sorry Kim. I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have bothered you—"

"No Jay, it's fine. Really. What's wrong? You said you needed my help?"

"Erin… uh… we um… can you…"

Kim sighed on the other end of the line. "Spit it out Jay."

"I need to talk to her. I need to see her."

"I haven't actually heard from her since last night, but I know she was staying at Voight's place."

"Thanks Kim. And again, I'm really, really sorry for interrupting."

"Don't sweat it." Just picturing Kim's warm and reassuring smile on the other end of the line had Jay's lips pulling into a small smile of his own.

But that smile didn't stay on his face long once the realization had set in. Now he had to face Voight. That was just perfect.

*****

Jay Halstead and Hank Voight had always had a tumultuous relationship.

Voight's reputation was common knowledge within the department, so to a certain extent, Jay had known what he was getting himself into when he joined the Intelligence unit. The men had immediately clashed—their ways of handling criminals were as different as possible. And it certainly didn't help that Jay wasn't afraid to stand up to his boss, to put his money where his mouth was when it came down to it. Throw in the sparks flying between him and Erin, and Voight and Jay's relationship was doomed from day one.

After Nadia's death, they had formed an unspoken agreement when it came to Erin. Both men recognized how important she was to the other, and they had buried the hatchet in an effort to bring their girl back from the brink.

That was the turning point in their relationship, the foundation of a growing understanding and trust between the two. And as time wore on, they learned to work better together, developing a rhythm and playing off of one another. More and more, Voight recognized the value of having Jay in his unit, and thus started leaning on the younger detective as sort of a right-hand-man. Truth be told, they were actually more similar than either of them would ever be willing to admit; despite their wildly different approaches, both men were deeply concerned with getting justice for the victims they encountered, no matter the cost.

In the years since Erin had left Chicago, tensions had grown between Jay and Voight again. Jay blamed his boss for sending Erin away, and Voight grew frustrated watching Jay spiral out of control. The loss of the girl they both loved caused them to build up the wall between them all over again.

Things were tense for a long time, but somehow they had again managed to set aside their differences and work well as a team. Voight began to rely on Jay more than ever before—he'd deny it if anyone had asked, but Voight had quietly started grooming Jay to take over his unit one day.

But that was work. They no longer had anything in common in their personal lives, so it was all business between the two men.

And yet somehow Jay found himself standing cautiously on his boss' front porch, awkwardly shifting his weight from side to side as he rapped his fist on the door, expecting—hoping—to see Erin standing on the other side.

But when the door swung open a few seconds later, Jay was instead met by a stone faced Hank Voight.

"Halstead, what are you doing here?" The sergeant demanded, his voice gruff as he folded his arms across his chest.

There was a time when Voight would probably have greeted Jay at his front door with a raised shotgun. Especially if the detective showed up just hours after Voight had been comforting a sobbing Erin Lindsay.

But just like all those years ago, when Jay and Erin had first started sneaking around, it was impossible to hide the truth from Voight. Despite his questionable interrogation tactics and shady practices, there was a reason Hank Voight was tasked with leading Intelligence—he had an uncanny ability to read people, to see right through their facades. So the moment Jay looked up and made eye contact, Voight immediately recognized that he was struggling. Again.

He took a step aside and motioned his arms in a silent invitation to come in. Jay hesitated for a moment—as though gauging whether or not he was walking into a trap—before taking a few steps forward.

Voight closed the door behind the younger man and ushered him into the living room. Feeling uncomfortable in his boss' home, Jay sat awkwardly on the edge of the couch cushion, while Voight settled back into his recliner in the corner and clasped his hands together in his lap before speaking again.

"So Halstead, like I asked you before—what are you doing here?"

Jay quickly shot up from his seat and started pacing back and forth in front of the sofa, his hands moving from his pockets to the back of his neck and up to his hairline as he struggled to answer Voight's question.

"Halstead!"

"Sorry sir. I… um… is she…" He stopped and looked his boss right in the eye before continuing. "Is Erin here?"

"First you can explain to me why she came home crying in the middle of the night."

Jay brought his palms up to cover his face. The knowledge that their rendez-vous had left Erin in tears was like a sucker punch to his gut. He hated to think of her hurting in any way, let alone because of his actions. He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs and immediately started pacing again.

"I asked you a question, I expect an answer." Voight demanded.

"Um… well… uh…" Jay rubbed the back of his neck, taking a moment to figure out how he could possibly explain what had happened to Voight. There was absolutely no way he could share the details with him. Jay would be leaving the house in an ambulance—or worse—if Voight knew the whole truth.

What was he supposed to say, Well sir, I hooked up with your daughter in a random hallway then ran off after my girlfriend when we got caught?

Voight would slaughter him.

"Halstead, sit the hell down and start talking."

Jay reluctantly sat back on the couch. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands while he took a few seconds to get his bearings.

Then he took a deep breath and more or less told Voight what had happened. He explained how he had been thinking about proposing to Allie. That his conversation with Will had left his head spinning, making him doubt his feelings for the first time in ages. How seeing Erin after four years had made him more confused than ever. And how he had unintentionally hurt her and could only hope to find a way to fix things.

When he had finished, Jay took a cautious glance in Voight's direction, misreading the older man's frown as frustration, as an expectation for him to say more. Jay's fingertips danced across his brow as his nerves were starting to catch up with him. "So uh… yeah… I know I screwed up… I know I ruined everything… I just… I have to talk to Erin. I need to talk to her."

"Well she's not here."

Jay's head jerked up as confusion washed over his face. "What do you mean? Kim… Kim said she was staying here with you?"

"She was, but she left." Voight answered simply, not one to mince his words.

"L-left? Where did she go?"

"She caught an early flight back to New York."

"New York?" Jay was shocked. He knew Erin was upset, but he didn't expect her to run away so quickly. "Why?"

Voight shrugged his shoulders far too casually for Jay's liking. "It sounds to me like you probably know more about that than I do."

"Can you… um… can you give me her number? Please?"

"I'm not sure that's for me to share. She left for a reason."

"Please? I need to talk to her. I have to fix this."

Voight sighed before reluctantly rising from his recliner to grab a slip of paper and a pen off the coffee table. He was silent as he scribbled across the page. "I swear Halstead, if you hurt her again, they'll never find your body."

"I won't. I love her. I'm… I'm in love with her."

*****

Erin's last minute flight had her landing at Laguardia in the early hours of the morning; the sun was just rising as she disembarked and headed to baggage claim to pick up her suitcase.

As Erin walked through the airport doors and flagged down a taxi, she was overwhelmed by a sense of peace—it actually surprised her a little. Sure, she had called New York City home for the last four years, but it had always felt like something had been missing. A part of her still longed for her old life in Chicago.

Turns out she just needed to go back to realize that she no longer belonged there.

Like the cab ride from Hank's house to O'Hare, the drive from Laguardia to her apartment was agonizingly slow. And to make matters worse, she had somehow managed to find the one New York cabbie that was actually interested in making small talk. One of the benefits of the red-eye flight was that it was silent—no pesky seatmates looking to make conversation, no screaming babies or wild children roaming the aisles. Hell, the flight was so short that the flight attendants didn't even come around.

The last thing that Erin was interested in doing was chatting with a complete stranger about politics and the weather and the score from last night's Knicks game. All she wanted to do was get back to her place, bury herself under the covers, and hibernate in her bedroom for the rest of her vacation time.

Erin managed a series of mmhmms and one word answers during the ride—enough to allow the driver to think she was actually somewhat interested in making conversation—but the moment the car came to a stop in front of her building, she hopped out as fast as her legs could carry her. She flashed the old man a smile, paid the fare (tipping even more generously than usual thanks to the guilt she felt for more or less ignoring him the entire trip), and quickly made her way into the sleek lobby.

One benefit of living in such a modern building was the sizable shop situated on the main level, an incredibly convenient spot to grab a few groceries or stock up on household necessities without having to cart bags all over the city. She filled a small shopping cart with a enough essentials to get her through the next few days without having to leave her apartment: a carton of milk, a box of her favourite sugary cereal, a couple of frozen pizzas, a six-pack of beer, and a pint—actually make that two—of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Unfortunately for Erin, her streak of bad luck continued in the store. Even though it wasn't even ten o'clock on a Sunday morning, she was somehow met by a rather significant line at the checkout. She buried her nose in her cell phone while she waited, letting herself get lost in Twitter news and browsing Instagram.

Even though it had ended less than twelve hours earlier, Erin's feed was already littered with pictures from the wedding. She immediately regretted tapping the event's hashtag (#TooLateToSayNoBurgess) when her screen was filled with photos of happy couples dancing the night away.

One such couple? Jay and Allie.

Erin nearly dropped her phone on the floor she was so shaken by the photo. And yet for some reason she couldn't bring herself to look away.

Just like when she saw them from across the dancefloor the night before, the proof of their relationship was almost screaming at her. It was as though something somewhere wanted to shove their happiness in her face. Wrapped up in Jay's embrace, Allie was practically glowing, and Jay looked blissfully happy as smiled down at the woman in his arms. There was no denying it. It was right there in front of her—they were the picture of love.

Her eyes were burning with unshed tears as a multitude of emotions washed over her. Embarrassment, disgust, sadness, heartbreak, longing. She felt it all as she switched off her screen, squeezing her eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling. God knows she'd already cried enough over this.

Once she had finally paid for her items, Erin strode through the sleek lobby towards the elevator. When it stopped on her floor, she made a beeline down the hall, anxious for the sense of security that only her apartment could bring her. She cringed as her high heeled boots click-clacked against the marble tiles with every step—she was almost there, the last thing she needed was a nosy neighbour popping out and trying to strike up a conversation.

Erin's heart was absolutely racing as she slid her key into the lock. The moment she was safely inside, she leaned her head back against the closed door and let out a huge sigh of relief.

She made it. She had escaped Chicago. It was time to put the drama of the last few days behind her.

And then her phone started ringing.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12672910/11/Home

#writing: home #chicago pd #linstead reunion #linstead for life™️#jay halstead #erin lindsay #cpd fanfiction #linstead fanfiction #linstead ff #linstead #mine

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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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diyunho · 7 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “The Bucket List”

Two months after breaking up with The Joker, you found out the bad news. You didn’t have a choice but to ask for his help and J didn’t even show up for the meeting. Of course he didn’t care, but now that he heard why you wanted to see him so badly, it might be too late for any amendments.

Part 2: http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/161379886591/the-joker-x-reader-the-bucket-list-part-2

http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/161645099431/the-joker-x-reader-the-bucket-list-part-3

“I’m out of here…” you announce, lifting your bag and taking a few steps towards the door. The Joker doesn’t reply, he just watches you in silence, leaning on the back wall of the master bedroom.

“That’s all you want?” he speaks up in a bitter tone when you are almost out of the quarters.

“Yes, that’s all…” you whisper and don’t turn around, continuing your walk. After a few moments, J wants to add something but gives up when he hears the elevator. He knows you’re already gone.

****************

Things went from worse to worst until both couldn’t take it anymore. You were aware he’d never leave the penthouse so you decided to break it off sooner rather than later. You were actually surprised he didn’t try to stop you when you told him about your decision: after all, he doesn’t like people to leave until he says so. You were determined to continue with the plan even he would have attempt to disagree. But he didn’t. Probably happy to get rid of you in such a timely manner. The Joker must have really hated you if he didn’t bother with any kind of reaction.

Oh, well, serves you right for thinking you meant something to him. Lesson learned.

****************

The first time he got a sign from you was after about 2 months. You called and he didn’t answer. It came through as “unknown number” because you weren’t in his contacts anymore, but he had the digits memorized. After about one hour, he received a text message: “Could you please meet me tonight around 10pm at the corner of Spencer’s and North Avenue? It’s really important. Please…I really need to talk to you.”

J deleted the message, upset you bothered him. For some reason though, he decided to go and see what the hell you wanted. He waited in the shadows behind the apartment building, watching you nervously pacing under the street light. You held a few papers in your hand and seemed distressed.

The Joker regretted coming so he stayed hidden, but didn’t leave. You waited for an hour and it began to rain. He could see you were soaked to the bone, still waiting on the almost deserted sidewalk. He was drenched also and didn’t move. You started to cry when you realized he won’t show up, holding up those papers to your chest. After another half an hour passed, you signaled a cab and one saw you right away. J decided to come out, thinking that if you notice him, he’ll talk to you. If not, oh well…

Of course you got into the taxi and didn’t see him approach. He had the perfect excuse for his indifference and you swore never to get a hold of him again. You bawled all the way back to your house, mad at yourself for being such an idiot. Yet, not too many choices at the time. You erased his phone number from your cell and as soon as you got home you smashed the phone to pieces, crying your eyes out since The Joker didn’t want to at least meet you when you really needed his help for once.

******************

After 7 months, J is in a meeting, planning a heist and some transactions on the black market with his old business partner when the conversation steered towards your absence at the negotiation table. Everyone knew you were gone, but Jasper still ran his mouth.

“That’s too bad about what happened to Y/N, hm? How old is she, 35 ? I hope she makes it… Hard to tell with this kind of stuff…”

Your ex is not excited to hear your name. He would love to blow Jasper’s brains, but he’s still needed.

“Don’t push it,” J growls, annoyed, clenching his jaw. The guy lifts his hands up in surrender, not having any desire to irritate the Clown Prince of Crime.

“No disrespect, sir, I was just talking without thinking.”

J keeps on marking locations on the map, absent minded.

“So…what happened to her?” he utters, not lifting his eyes from the important project.

“You don’t know?!” Jasper replies, intrigued.

“No,” J simply answers, sniffling.

“Do you really care to find out?” “No… But tell me anyway!”

*** He debated for a week if he should call you or not. When he finally dialed your digits, the flat message made him roll his eyes: “This number has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

It took J about 3 more weeks to find your whereabouts. You can easily make yourself disappear under fake identities. Thankfully, The Joker has several ways of using his numerous resources when necessary.

********************

Oh, no! you think when you hear the doorbell. You slowly get up from the couch, dizzy from the monthly IV medication dripping in your veins, one of the treatments you do at home. You grab the IV pole, rolling it towards the door. You bought this house outside the city, not wanting to be bothered. No neighbors around. And you didn’t order any food or supplies to be delivered like you usually do.

“Coming!” you announce, holding on to the wall with your free hand. “Who is it?” you inquire before opening the door.

“Pizza delivery,” the muffled voice answers.

“I didn’t order any pizza,” and you crack the door open. “Shit!” you gasp when you see J standing there and you shut the entrance immediately, locking it.

“Really?!” you hear him and you back out, alarmed. Surprisingly, no knocking or pounding. ��And it clicks: the sliding glass door on the back porch is opened! You force yourself to walk as fast as you can, difficult since you are hooked to your IV.

“Dammit,” you mumble when you get to the living room and see he already got inside.

“I wasn’t aiming for this reaction,” J frowns, taking a few steps towards you.

“What…what are you doing here?!” you demand to find out since you’re not pleased about his presence. You really don’t need whatever the hell this is right now.

“What’s wrong with you?” he cuts to the chase, not in the mood for chitchatting. Those piercing eyes urge for an explanation.

“Nothing,” you grumble and squeeze the pole harder.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he points towards your IV. You sigh, feeling more and more uncomfortable.

“It’s only…only something to slow down the process…”

“What process?” The Joker barks, biting on his cheek.

“The process of me dying too fast,” you serenely admit. He keeps on staring at you, kind of stupefied at how you look: skinny, pale, dark circles under your eyes and he can notice it all since you have no make-up on. Your hair is dark blonde now, still long yet visibly thinned out.

“Nonsense, you’re too young,” he drops on the chair closer to him, crossing his legs.“Who helps you?” he begins another tirade of questions.

“Nobody; I leave alone, away from everyone. I don’t want to be seen like this and I can take care of myself,” you swallow the bitter taste on your tongue, nauseated. All the drugs you take have such awesome side effects. “Is this an interrogation? Because I don’t want to talk nor see anybody. So if you would just leave…” and you nod towards the sliding door he sneaked through.

“Nonsense,” he cuts you off, bouncing his leg on top of the other, impatient. He reaches for the papers scattered on the table in front of him, reading the names of the numerous vials with tablets, capsules and lozenges, aggravated. “Do you have a list of all the stuff you take?”

“Wh-what?! Could you just…just leave please?!” and you gag, almost vomiting, rushing to snatch a container from the kitchen counter with anti-nausea medication. You swallow one tablet with a few sips of water and go sit down on the couch, exhausted. J watches your every move without any comment.

“If you don’t leave I’ll call the cops,” you close your eyes, feeling the room spinning.

“Please do, I would love to tell them who you really are,” he scoffs, rattling some of your pills, amazed on how huge they are. Crap, the police threat didn’t work.

“Go home to your girlfriend and leave me alone,” you encourage him, hoping he’ll get lost.

“Go home to your girlfriend,” he imitates you, giving you a mean glare. “Do I look like a fool in a leash to you?! Don’t insult me! Plus, I hate her!” he snarls, finding what he came for in the documents pile: an inventory of all the things you take for your condition.

“You hate everybody, “ you whisper, biting your dry lips.

“A skill I take a lot of pride in,” he cracks his neck and finally gets up.

“Why are you here?” you tilt your head to the side, fighting to keep your raging sickness under control. “ Where…where were you when I needed you so badly, hm? I asked for a meeting and you didn’t even bother to come…I was scared and seeked your help. How stupid of me…,” you sadly smile and even if you don’t seem to cry, J notices tears rolling down your face. “Of course you are too busy to be bothered with someone so insignificant as your ex that wanted to tell you she found out she’s dying…” you wipe your tears, not breaking eye contact. Him adding to your misery doesn’t aid.

“Shut up, you’re not dying!!! And don’t talk to me like this again!” he growls at you before slamming the sliding door behind him.

“I AM DYING!!” you yell, taking deep breaths to cool down.

My God, what in the world was that?!!! Do you have to move now?! You are in no mood to do so, but probably you’ll have to pull yourself together and vanish once more. How did he find you?

******************

You didn’t hear anything from him in a while and you are relieved: probably forgot about his little project involving you and lost interest like he usually does when he gets bored. It’s better this way; you don’t need to be stressed out about more problems, you don’t need your life turned upside down more than it already is.

You are coming back from your weekly check up at the clinic and you notice a black car in your driveway. You groan when you see Frost coming out of the vehicle, waiting for you. No choice but to park next to him and meet him.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Frost,” you cautiously greet. “Is J here?”

“No, but boss wanted me to give you this,” and Jonny hands over a sealed box.

“What is this?” you check, curious to hear about it. What is he up to?!

“Mister J says the directions are inside: take one of the red pills three times a day and the blue one just once daily. He also said to stop taking the three meds he crossed over on your med list. All in the box,” Frost blurs out, getting ready to flee. He sure is uncomfortable; knowing you, you’ll certainly decline.

“I don’t want anything from him!” you raise your voice.

He was afraid this will happen.

You place the box on the hood, heading towards the porch.

“I can’t tell him that! Please take it!”

“I don’t know what the hell those pills are and I don’t need his help. Just tell him I said that!”

“He’s not gonna like it…” Frost grumbles.

“So? I want to be left alone!!”

****************

You are getting ready to go to sleep when you hear a loud bang: your front door is being opened and slammed. Must be J…and you are correct.

“Y/N?! Y/N! Where are you?” The Joker shouts, looking around for you.

“Ummm…here,” you get on your knees in bed, covering yourself with the comforter and bracing for the worst.

He storms in your bedroom, holding the box he sent earlier.

“I understand you refuse to take this?” his low voice echoes in the whole house.

“Yes, I don’t want it. Please leave!”

“Do you know what I’ve been doing for the past 3 weeks since I last saw you? Hmmm? Do you?!” he starts unwrapping the seal around the box, tossing it by you. “I broke into 3 research facilities, about 5 hospitals, kidnapped doctors and blackmailed others in exchange for information and treatments. Showed your med list to all of them and they came up with some new options for your disease!” J is so mad he’s slamming all the vials around, taking a red tablet out of one. “Take this!!” he shoves it in your face and you hesitantly move your head backwards.

“It’s a new experimental drug!!“ he roughly grabs your jaw.” I’ll get rid of the stuff you don’t have to take anymore.”

You sniffle, intrigued by his behavior and escape his grasp.

“Why are you tormenting me? Are you that bored? Why don’t you go back to Gotham?” You wipe your forehead, already tired from all this crap. “Do you feel…guilty?” you touch his hand, moving it away. He brings his face very close to yours, panting with indignation:

“I’m fucking buying you more time!! So take this goddamned pill or I’ll force you! I mean it!!”

You sigh, weighting in the options.

“Fine…I’ll take it…Are you happy now?” you reach for the bottle of water on the night stand and swallow the given medication.

“Ecstatic!” J grinds his teeth, vexed. “They told me you should expect nasty side effects, but it will get better.”

You shrink under the cover.

“Well, I took it, so…you don’t have to be here anymore.”

“Are you kicking me out?” he goes on the other side of the bed, starting to pile up pillows.

“Please go back to Gotham,” you beg, uneasy at the thought of him spending the night.

He stretches, fed up with the conversation, wanting to relax after another long day.

******************

One hour later you started feeling the aftermath of your new drug. You are used with being sick and yet it doesn’t make it easier. You shiver like a leaf, moaning in pain, adding 2 painkillers when the aching becomes unbearable. You try to get comfortable but it’s useless.

“Are you cold?” J asks, moving closer to you. “You…need… anything?” he struggles to offer, not really knowing how to react to the situation. You nod a faint yes, reaching your hands for him:

“Y-you…” the weak response comes, making him scoot over without hesitation. A strange warmness washes all over him, making his heart beat faster and it’s not a pleasant emotion. You curl up in a ball against his body while he covers you with his blanket too.

“J…” you whimper when his arms go around you, “ O-one of these days they’ll find me dead in here. C-can you take my things? I would hate for s-strangers to come in here, stealing what doesn’t belong to them. You know how much I care a-about my things… Y-yes?”

The Joker believes you’re delirious; he was warned about this common side effect of what you’re taking. Maybe you are…

“No, I won’t!” he emphasizes his refusal, inflexible in his decision.

“W-why not?” you lick your dried lips, getting even more upset.

“I only provide my services to people I like. You’re not on the list,” he makes sure to remind you.

“N-nobody’s on the list,” you crack an awkward smile, squinting your eyes when the muscle spasms hit again.

“Exactly,” J acknowledges, wondering how the hell you manage on your own when you are so ill. He caresses your hair and he notices so many strands left around his fingers.

“Jesus, Y/N!“ escapes his mouth before he can stop the words.

“I k-know I should shave my h-head and I just keep on p-postponing,” you tremble, praying you can rest for a little bit. So many sleepless nights, twisted thoughts and therapies took their toll on you.

After about 2 hours you finally fall asleep and he dozes off also, worn out and fighting with himself about what should happen next. J is not sure how long he’s been out, but when he wakes up it’s still dark and you are in his arms. It seems you didn’t move at all and he notices you’re not breathing.

“Hey, hey, Y/N, wake up!” he softly slaps your shoulder and there is no reaction. “Hey! Wake up I said!” he gets up on his elbow, terrified for once. “Open your eyes! Wake up!!!!” he shakes you, feeling he’s starting to sweat from the anxiety.

“Mmmm,” he hears your mumble and you cuddle more to his chest, keeping your hands under his pillow. “What is it?” you whisper, yawning.

He puts his head back on the cushions , truthfully admitting:

“Shit, I thought you died…”

“Not yet…” you calm him down, not wishing to wake up yet. “Go back to sleep, I’m fine…My blood pressure gets really low sometimes, I’m still here…” you kiss the skin in front of your lips, not realizing what you’re doing. You fall back into your dreamless daze while The Joker is unable to do anything else but repeat in his mind the simple sentence you used to let him know you’re still alive: “Not yet.”

*******************

You don’t go to the clinic anymore. A lot of your old meds are not needed according to the new care plan in place for you. New stuff is being added and some doctors are even brought to your house so they can assess you. Tests after tests, trial and error of all the drugs that The King of Gotham is able to smuggle and steal for you. You have such bad days you seriously consider giving up, which was the main idea before he showed up at your home that day.

You have no clue why he’s putting so much effort into it and he gets mad when you fight him, refusing to take your meds.

“Nothing is really working, they make me feel worse!” you sob, having a really bad day while being hooked to your new IV.

“Tough it out, Pumpkin, could be worse,” he grouchily snarls, moving some of your books around.

“You can’t buy me life, it’s too late,” you wail on your couch, depressed and ailing in every single fiber of your body.

“I’m not buying you life, Y/N, I’m buying you time!” J aims towards all the vials, bottles and containers containing the remedies you actually need.

“What does your girlfriend has to say about this? I bet she detests me since you spend so much time here,” you want to mention, blowing your nose in a tissue.

“I told you I hate her so I don’t care about what she thinks!” he barks and shoves the books around when a piece of paper folded in two flies out from one of them and lands on the floor. He picks it up and opens it, reading your note:

Bucket list

-go to Japan

- a family

- see J one last time - no, no, no!!

-meeting my knight in shining armor (he huffs)

-kidnap Commissar Gordon again (he smirks)

-see J one last time – no!!!!!!!!!!

-find out Batsy’s identity (he grins)

-steal more diamonds

-see J one last time - NOOOOO!!!!!!

“What are you doing?!” you jump off the couch when you see the paper in his hand.

“A bucket list Doll ?! Really?” he laughs because he has no better idea of how to get rid of this awful feeling in his heart.

“That’s private, give it back!” you barely drag your feet to go to him and yank the list out of his hand, placing in a drawer. “This is very personal stuff, you have no right to…”

“I do what I want!” he interrupts, giving you a high and mighty gaze. So typical.

“You can’t just…”

“Tell someone that cares,” he turns his back on you, returning to his task and you sit there with your mouth open, outraged. You forgot to cry. “When are you going to shave your head? The new IV med will really make you lose more hair, that’s what they told me,” The Joker chatters, turning his attention towards you again. “Want me to do it for you? I’ve seen you have the electric hair clipper in the bathroom. Don’t be a chicken and do it!” he distracts you from your tirade.

“I’m not sure if…” you try to negotiate, but I guess he has a new assignment on the horizon. You are conscious you’ve been delaying this forever; your hair is so thin and limp it’s gross.

“Nahhh, I think we should go on with it! No better time than the present!” and he takes your hand, guiding you towards the bathroom while you steadily roll the IV pole with you. “Sit!” he pushes your shoulders down on the chair and brings over the tool, turning it on. You nervously gulp, watching chunks of your locks piling up on the marble flooring.

“Done!” he announces and you touch your bald head, getting up so you can see yourself in the mirror. It looks terrible and you start weeping.

“Ahhh, it’s not that bad kid. You’re still fairly pretty. To be honest, you’re uglier than before but I can still look at you,” J cheerfully concludes.

You elbow him through tears, appalled at your reflection.

“You suck at making people feel better, you know that?”

“Another skill I take great pride in,” he winks, grinding his silver teeth and you cry harder.

“My hair…it’s …just…gone,” you stammer, saddened beyond control, stroking your shaved skin.

He sighs, softly pushing you away from the mirror, still holding the trimmer.

“You know, Princess, I’m starting to get sick of my green hair, I had it for a while,” he passes his fingers through it, turning his head left and right.

“Huh?” you whimper, sniffling.

Before you can react, he turns on the trimmer again, starting to shave his head. You stop bawling, shocked, watching his green locks falling to the ground.

“What are you doing, J?!”

“Isn’t it obvious? Getting rid of something I’m bored with. There, done! Com’ere!” he urges you to return in front of the mirror with him. “I think we look pretty good, won’t you say?” he puckers his lips and you start crying so hard it makes him cringe. “Would you stop it??!! I didn’t do it for you, I’m too selfish. I was really tired of my toxic green hair, got it?”

You nod a yes and hug him, squeezing him in your arms as hard as you can since your IV line doesn’t permit a wide range of motion.

********************

Later that evening

“Are you ready?” he peeks in the bedroom to see you dressed up. “Told you some make-up will do the job, you’re much prettier now. Still not up to my standards, but…”

You walk towards him in your floral summer dress, sulking.

“Horrible person…” you mutter, elbowing him. “Where are we going?”

“I need your help with something and since you didn’t get out of the house in forever, I have plans for today.” “Where are we going?” you insist, stepping outside and observe the silver car on the driveway, probably dropped off by his men because he didn’t have it there this morning.

The Joker gets dresses with his silver jacket, taking a deep breath before laying it down for you:

“The silver jacket is the most I can do for the shiny armor, ok? Plus the car,” and cracks his fingers, a bit uneasy.

You seem puzzled.

“Your stupid bucket list, Doll: the knight in shining armor thing. I’m not wearing a dumb armor, this is the most I’m willing to do.”

You stare at him, speechless, on the verge of crying as he can see your lips quivering.

“Uhhh, give me a break!” J growls, giving you a nudge towards the car.

******************

“What are we doing at Jasper’s hideout?” you step out of the car, wondering what he has in mind.

“Some business to attend to and I need your help, OK?”

“OK,” you agree, hesitant.

When you both walk in with the new bald looks, everybody at the meeting instantly stops talking and glances, astonished.

“Wha’? “ J guides you to your seats, “You didn’t see two beautiful people before?!” and the tone in his voice makes them all aware they shouldn’t make it so obvious they’re perplexed at the change.

They all start talking in the same time, apologizing and attempting to fix their mistake.

“Shut the hell up!” he addresses the crowd, irked. “Wrong spot, Y/N!” he signals you to get up from your chair and you do as asked, confused. “Here!” he pulls you in his lap and you place your hand around his neck, smiling. “We are negotiating with this fine…gentlemen; I’m too exhausted for this, you do it.”

Wow, they didn’t see you in more than a year and now you show up here with Mister J, back to what you used to do. What’s going on? they all ask themselves, knowing they won’t get an answer.

The Joker rests his head on your shoulder, listening to the sound of your voice resonating in his ears.

He might not be able to buy life for the girl he hates so much, but he can buy her time. As much as he can.