#romand facts

[tpg-official]

romand representation

Today's daily male is Ben Doyle from Real Life!

for anonymous!

[useless-switzerlandfacts]

there’s no rösti graben there is actually a döner graben between the german and french speaking part of switzerland

[ticiie]

week 5: old but gold - there's only one bed

prompt from the off-season winter sports challenge

pairing: Marco Odermatt/Gino Caviezel

length: 743 words

As he laid down on the mattress, Marco sighed. He wrapped his arms around Gino and pulled him closer, their bodies fitting like pieces of a puzzle. Gino smiled. His muscles relaxed in an instant and his mind got clouded by Marco’s warmth and his smell, a mixture of soap and the aftershave that Gino loved so much. 

“How’s your knee?”, he asked. Their hands were entangled and Marco started to draw small circles on Gino’s skin. 

“Seraina says it’s getting better but I’m not too sure about that. It still feels wobbly at times.” 

“You should be careful. And listen to her advice.” 

“You just don’t want me to miss camp again. I haven’t forgotten your whining from last time.” 

“Oh please, you whined just as much. Weren’t you the one calling every other evening just to not miss any drama?” Gino nudged Marco with his elbow and they both laughed. The memory of the last training camp overseas was still very prominent in Gino’s mind, and most of it was negative. So of course, he was very glad about Marco joining them this time, and there for being able to get some proper sleep. He couldn’t remember at what point they had started to sleep in the same bed. Somewhen between the seasons ‘17 and ‘18 he reckoned. Ever since, their stays on the road had developed in sneaking around and making sure no one noticed, which was quite a challenge whenever they were requested to bunk up with someone different while staying at a hotel. Marco was pretty sure that Zoé suspected something and Loïc had almost caught them once as well but thankfully, Thomas and Justin both were still oblivious. If one of them would know, Marco and Gino would have some serious explaining to do, not just to them but to the entire team because those two could not keep a secret. About how no, they weren’t in a relationship but yes, they slept together but not sleeping together as in sleeping together, just sleeping, nothing more! Gino dreaded the day the whole story would come out. And that was unavoidable, considering the fact that neither Gino nor Marco could fall asleep without the other. The only question that remained was when the bomb was going to drop. 

“Did you set an alarm?”, Marco eventually asked, his voice already drowsy. Gino gave an approving sound. He pressed a small kiss on Marco’s hand and felt the younger one grinning into the crook of his neck. They both fell asleep to the comfort of their heartbeats, steady and aligned in rhythm. 

The next time Gino woke up, the first streaks of sunlight already fought their way into the room. He checked the time on his phone. Five minutes before the alarm would go off. Next to him, Marco was still fast asleep. The weight of his head on Gino’s chest dared the older one in falling back asleep but he resisted the temptation. He pulled himself out of Marco’s embrace, gathered the sweatshirt from the floor and left the room as quietly as possible, not without pecking Marco on the cheek one last time though. Outside on the hallway, the lights were too bright for Gino’s liking. He made his way back to his own room, eyes glued to his feet when suddenly, he bumped into something. Or better said someone. 

“What the heck, Gino?” 

Shit. Loïc stood in front of him, a confused look on his face. 

“Where are you going?”, he asked and Gino searched his mind for an explanation.  

“Uh, I was just...” Loïc raised his eyebrows in anticipation. His stare reached right through Gino, piercing him to the wall, making it impossible to lie. “I spent the night in Marco’s room. I helped him with his studying and we eventually fell asleep, I only just woke up now.” That sounded reasonable. Loïc still didn’t say anything but instead pointed on the fabric in Gino’s hand. 

“And what’s that?” 

“My sweater.” He clinged his fingers around it tighter. It didn’t seem as if Loïc actually believed him. But for some reason, the Romand didn’t say another word and turned left towards his own room. Gino exhaled. That was close. Before the relief really kicked in, Loïc turned around another time. “You’re not sponsored by Stöckli. And there’s only one bed in Marco’s room. I know it because I helped him getting his luggage there.” 

Well, fuck. 

[ao3theskyisblue]

How to Woo a Texan

For @bellakitse who prompted this nearly a year ago and I had the audacity to put it off for this long 😅 Thank you for the title prompt, I hope you enjoy! 

Summary:

He was suddenly brought back to the time when he was 5 years old, gazing at the white lilies in that antique vase every morning. How he hadn’t understood why his mother carried an aura so bright and yet so soft at the same time every time she looked at them.

Oh. There you are. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.

***

Or, snapshots through time of their relationship with a splash of feelings

Read on AO3

Ever since he could remember, there was always a fresh vase of white lilies that sat comfortably on the side of the kitchen counter. A 5-year-old Carlos, who was finally old enough to climb down the stairs himself (though his parents seemed to disagree) had always tried to wake up early to try and catch whoever it was that was responsible for them. They always magically appeared like clockwork every Monday morning at 7am.

Neatly trimmed, placed, and lasted a week before a brand-new batch would appear the next Monday.

He hadn’t wanted to think too much about them, but there were times that he caught his mother looking at the flowers with a soft look in her eyes. Sometimes she would brush her fingers along the petals, and other times she would lean down to delicately smell them, an ever-present smile gracing her lips.

He asked her about it once, the words coming out faster than his brain could tell him to stop.

“Mama, where those come from?” He asks one morning, lips puckered in a light pout when he realized he didn’t catch whoever it was that put them there again. His mother turned around from where she was washing some grapes to look in his direction, only to widen her eyes in horror.

“Carlitos! What have I told you about climbing onto places taller than you?” His mother scolded, rushing over to stop him from climbing onto the kitchen counter so he could reach the vase easier. She wrapped her arms gently around his waist, and he didn’t fight it when she sat him on a dining room chair.

“But I wanted to see flowers!” Carlos pointed towards the vase, and his mother turned her head to where he was looking, a slow smile spreading across her lips. She reached over to take out one of the flowers slowly, before displaying it in front of him.

“You mean the white lilies?” His mother asked, nodding at him when he looked at her questioningly. He took the flowers gently in his hands, running his fingers along the petals. They felt like any other flower he’s touched in the schoolyard, and they didn’t have a particularly distinct scent. At least, not that he could tell.

So, what was so special about these flowers?

He was about to ask, but his mother beat him to it. “Your dad is a little bit of a romantic. He wakes up early to get these from the farmer’s market every Monday morning.” And there it is again. That smile he always sees on his mother whenever his dad is mentioned, a smile that made her look so bright and happy.

There was something he didn’t understand though.

“What’s a ro…romand-romantic? Is it like…like Roman empire?” Carlos frowned, not quite remembering that book his teacher had been reading a few weeks ago but he was sure he heard ‘Roman’ somewhere. His mother shook her head, laughing fondly. He watched her get up from her kneeling position to sit on the dining chair beside him, her hands resting on his knees.

“You’re probably a little too young to understand this fully,” Carlos wrinkled his nose at that, because no, he wasn’t too “young,” he could recite the alphabet just fine forwards and backward and knew all his times tables.

His mother gave him a knowing look as if she knew what he was thinking. “Those were the flowers your father gave me when he first told me he loved me, and ever since then, he gets them every week- rain or shine. Just to see a smile on my face when I open the door for him.” His mother’s smile is radiant, and he sees her peeking at the flowers again affectionately, as if just looking at them rings in a new bout of happiness all over again.

“So…” Carlos trails off, a million thoughts circling his mind. “Love means flowers?” His mother chuckles at that, patting his leg fondly.

“It could be, but everyone expresses love differently.” His mother says, before reaching up a hand to place over his heart. He looks at her, at the warmth in her eyes as her next words resonate within his mind.

 “Love can be big things, and it can be little things. It can be complicated, and it can be easy. You’ll find your own definition of it one day, and your dad and I will be with you every step of the way.”

***

“I can’t wait to sleep for a decade.” Carlos groaned, toeing off his shoes before stumbling across the entranceway towards the stairs, regretting not building an escalator instead when he had the chance. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, and a bright laugh that never failed to make his heart skip a beat echoed in his ear.

“That’s a coma, sweetheart, not quite something I support. Experience, and all that.” TK mused, squeezing the skin just above his hip in admonishment and making him jolt. He turned a glare to his boyfriend, who was just looking at him innocently.

“You’re not funny,” Carlos grumbled as they slowly made their way up the stairs. Technically, TK was practically dragging him up the steps since he could hardly register where each step began and ended but minor details.

He didn’t need to look up to know that TK’s eyes were shining with amusement, lips curled in a wide smile with its edges softened by affection. “I’m actually very funny, you’re just grumpy when you’re tired. And on the verge of a fever.”

“Am not.” Carlos huffed petulantly, which probably just further proved TK’s point, but the latter wisely chose not to comment on it. They reached the last step and Carlos made a beeline for his bed, flopping down face-first into the soft sheets, legs dangling off the edge, humming appreciatively.

Soft and warm, perfect after a horrendously long shift with a persisting headache.

He didn’t bother moving when hands gently lifted the rest of his body to lie on the bed, the very same hands then reaching underneath him to try and undo his belt.

“You’re going to have to do all the work,” Carlos mumbled; eyes still shut tight. TK snorted, the hand stopping their administrations to swat his thigh lightly.

“I’m trying to make sure you sleep more comfortably. I’ve done my fair share of passing out in uniform and the morning after is never pretty.” TK has successfully removed his belt now, and Carlos half-heartedly lifted his hips to help him tug the pants down. “In fact, there was one particularly memorable moment where I almost stabbed myself in the leg with a belt buckle.”

Carlos was suddenly a little more awake than before, mustering the last bit of his strength to look at TK incredulously, turning over on his back. He ignored his head protesting loudly at the movement.

“I’m going to need a full version of that story when my brain can process more than 5 words a minute.”

TK shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’ll never hear it because you’ll forget this ever happened when you wake up.” He finished yanking his pants off and moved to fold them neatly in half over a hanger and placing it on the door hook. Carlos watched him through hooded eyes, absently going along with the motion of changing his shirt before shifting up to lay his head on the pillow.

“So, sleep-related injuries from passing out in work clothes. Another thing to cross off your bucket list.” Carlos gladly accepted the swat on his leg at that.  

“One more word about this and I will go sleep on the couch,” TK warned jokingly, walking to the closet and pushing aside some of their clothing. They haven’t made it official yet, but Carlos already had a key – a permanent one, not a spare one that TK currently donned – prepared hidden in his gun safe waiting to be given, and the closet once only filled with his clothes began filling up with their clothes.

“Wha’re you doin’?” He asked blearily, already feeling himself pouting at the lack of warm boyfriend next to him.

“Looking for-ah, here it is.”

TK pulled out another blanket, the one that his mother had knitted for him when he was younger, and the only thing he could tolerate to be wrapped around whenever he was feeling under the weather.

Well, one of the only things.

He watched as TK gently tucked the blanket around him, seeing the familiar smile that lights up his face whenever he sees the design stitched on – a Gemini sign that stood out proudly among a sea of stars. He remembers mapping out imaginary constellations with his fingertips when he was younger, dreaming of what the stars would feel like underneath his touch – if the galaxy could be grasped within the palms of his hands.

“You mentioned the last time that your body temperature tends to go haywire when you aren’t feeling well, and that this was the only blanket you could tolerate,” TK says softly, and Carlos closes his eyes as the back of a cool hand felt his forehead.

“When did I say that?” Carlos mumbled, the haze of sleep threatening to take over, but he pushed himself to stay awake to hear the answer. TK shuffled some things around in the bed before sitting down, back against the headboard. Carlos didn’t hesitate to roll over towards him, wrapping an arm around his waist and tucking his face into his stomach, nuzzling into the soft warmth. He heard a fond chuckle, and smiled when featherlight fingers gently stroked his hair.

“I’ll tell you later. You should get some rest.” TK leaned down to kiss his forehead, the awkward angle not deterring him the slightest as he pressed another kiss to his cheek.

“You don’t have to stay.” The words came out a little garbled, and Carlos wasn’t sure if TK had heard him at all. He didn’t want to make TK stay with him when he could literally be doing anything else other than sitting with him while he slept off the fever. His arm seemed to protest at that thought, though it could also be his exhaustion at play when he didn’t pull it away from its spot around TK’s mid-section.

There was a pause, before the blanket was tucked around him even tighter, an arm wrapping around him to pull him in further.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

A million butterflies danced to that, fluttering about inside him as he tried to tamper down his quickening heartbeat. He couldn’t stop the lovesick smile even if he wanted to, tilting his head down to try and hide it.

“Plus, who’s going to wring cold towels and change them for you when you wake up? And make sure you actually eat something? Gotta put my paramedic privileges to work somehow.” Carlos grumbled incoherent words at that. Just because he was a living zombie when he was sick, and his whole body ached so badly he could sometimes hardly make it out of bed, let alone make anything to eat…

He’s been taking care of himself alone for years. And realistically, he knew he would be fine if left to his own devices.

“I’ll wait on you, hand and foot.” The words were light, teasing, reminding him of the heated debate they had the other night. There had been some history program playing in the background, and both of them had made varying sounds of contemplation when that particular phrase was said, sparking their usual bickering over the true meaning behind those seemingly innocent words.

This time, the words also carried a pleasantly heavy weight that settled in Carlos’ chest.

He was suddenly brought back to the time when he was 5 years old, gazing at the white lilies in that antique vase every morning. How he hadn’t understood why his mother carried an aura so bright and yet so soft at the same time every time she looked at them.

He could feel a stinging building up behind his closed eyes, his feelings always a tad bit of a mess when he was sick. They’ve already said the words, and the fact that they loved each other was ingrained in his mind and heart.

But there were also times like this, when Carlos wanted to grab the nearest jar and store the overwhelming love that was spilling out ardently. He wondered if the jar would feel as warm as he felt, what colour it would be, or if there would be enough space to fit it all.

It was times like these, that he would think,

Oh. There you are.

I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.

 ***

One of the things they’ve agreed upon in the early stages of their relationship, was that TK was not to be allowed anywhere near the kitchen or sharp cooking utensils unless there was appropriate adult supervision and two (working) fire extinguishers within five feet. There were one too many incidences where Carlos could practically feel his heart ripping out of his chest and plopping onto the floor, stripping decades off his life.

So, when he comes home to wondrous spices assaulting his senses, he briefly wonders if he accidentally opened the wrong door.

He had been pulling a double when one of his co-worker’s wife went into labour, and he had messaged TK earlier about not knowing when exactly he’d make it home. He had expected to come home to dim lights and silence, thinking his boyfriend would have already gone to bed but he was taken off guard at the lights shining brightly in the kitchen and the soft background music playing from his speakers.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind him alerted TK of his presence, and he was greeted with a smile that had his eyes crinkle happily at the sides.

“Hey, you.” His arms automatically spread apart to wrap around his boyfriend, laughing breathlessly at the way TK practically launched himself at him, trailing kisses up his neck.

“Missed me?” Carlos teased, leaning in for a few quick kisses before tucking his face in the crook of TK’s neck, his favourite spot to just breathe and take his boyfriend in after a long day. There was a heavy sigh in response, before he was met with a pair of eyes he never tired of losing himself in.

“It’s nothing new. I start missing you the second you leave our bed in the morning.” TK admits quietly, biting his lower lip nervously as if he hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud. Carlos feels the familiar warmth spreading through him, and reaches up to gently pry his bottom lip free. He leans in to gently kiss the tip of his nose.

“Something smells amazing.” A welcome subject change, one that Carlos knows TK is grateful for, and he watches as his lips spread into a slow smile. Tugging on his hand, TK leads him towards the kitchen counter where various bowls of food were laid out.

“Everyone at the station has been giving me lessons. I thought Nancy was scary during training, it’s nothing compared to how she commands the kitchen. Even Paul was terrified but impressed.” TK was laughing as he continued on with a particularly hilarious incident that he repeatedly insisted was not his fault, but Carlos couldn’t help but be distracted by something scraping against his palm.

He looked down to see bandages covering the majority of TK’s fingers, looking like he had just left a particularly bad boxing match. All of his fingers had some sort of wrapping on it, most of them at the tips reaching just above the second knuckle, and a bulkier one on his right ring finger.

He looked back up to see TK smiling brightly without a care in the world, as if his hands weren’t completely covered with the scars of his labour. Not a single finger had been spared, and Carlos swallowed back the lump growing in his throat at how happy his boyfriend looked.

“Grace even swung by to indulge me in her family’s secret chilli recipe. We kind of went all out today in the kitchen, and everyone had enough to feed their entire family and their neighbours,” TK chuckled at the memory, picking up said bowl of chilli and holding it out to Carlos, a carefree grin painted across his lips. “I told them you were pulling a double, and how I wanted to take care of the cooking for tonight. They were more than happy to give me tips.”  

Carlos stared at the bowl in front of him, then at TK’s radiant smile, blinking against the mist clouding up his vision. The whiteness of the bandages contrasted sharply against the brown wooden bowl, and he had an overwhelming urge to kiss each and every single one.

Some days, the love he feels for the man before him is overpowering, sparking life in every single motion and touch. Other days, it’s warm and light, just like the perfect summer breeze flowing by in passing, or the sight of the sunrise ascending over the horizon. The gentle waves splashing by his ankles in a soothing beat.

Today, he’s filled with an ache he can’t quite describe. It’s an ache that he wants engraved into his very bones – an ache that he wants to re-live for a long, long time.

He wondered if it was possible to be numbed by pure happiness, not knowing where the tingling feeling in his body started or ended.  

Blinking a couple of times to anchor himself to the present, Carlos looked up to see TK’s worried gaze trained on him, the bowl of chilli sitting back on the kitchen counter.

Had he zoned off for too long?

“Judd, Mateo and Marjan sampled everything to make sure they were edible.” TK bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. His hands were twitching imperceptibly, as if he was itching to wring them together but remembered the bandages at the last second. The almost frantic look in his eyes made Carlos shake out of his stupor, and he reaches forward the cup the back of TK’s neck with one hand, running his thumb soothingly along his nape.

“Baby, this is…” Carlos trails off, the ache in him pulsating the more he looked at the culinary production around them.

He feels truly lucky to have TK in his life, and the rest of his found family with the 126. It startles him sometimes, how he’s been living fine on his own for twenty-six years before TK came into his life, but now that he’s gotten a taste of what it was like to have an extra splash of colour, he wants to continue painting the world with all the newfound hues.

“Extra? Over the top? Too much?” TK rambled, and Carlos shook his head, meeting his gaze straight-on.

“Amazing.”

He knows he sounds a little breathless, but TK seems to lighten at that, his nervous smiling relaxing.  He silently obeys as TK gently guides him to one of the dining room chairs, arranging him around a little so that he was sitting, facing the gleamingly empty (for now) tableware.

“What would you like to indulge in first, my liege?” TK says playfully, hands kneading into Carlos’ shoulders to relieve the tension from a long day at work. He could feel himself grinning, reaching up a hand to cover one of TK’s, his thumb brushing against the bandages.

“You have been watching way too many historical dramas.” He mused, humming in approval as nimble fingers dug deeper into muscle, alleviating the residual tautness.

“There are only so many episodes of Grey’s I can handle watching without yelling at the medical inaccuracies. House is alright, but the way he treats patients would give him a lifetime of lawsuits he would never be able to climb out of. That in itself could be a whole series.” TK snorts, leaning back to plate some of the food. Carlos tipped his head back to watch him, already feeling his stomach yearning for everything his boyfriend was currently stashing onto his plate.

“I thought the point of watching those shows as a first responder is to enjoy the imperfections.” Carlos smiles fondly as TK lets out a quiet curse when a small piece of potato rolls off the plate, reaching out to grab a napkin to quickly wipe the spot on the counter.

“Pot meet kettle. You forget I watch Chicago PD with you, babe. I’m pretty sure I could recite the entirety of the Austin PD manual and 10-codes off the top of my head just from your heartfelt soliloquies every time they do anything.” TK shot him an unimpressed look, though the wide grin gave away his amusement.

He could feel himself pouting, not liking how true that was. “Yeah? Then what’s a 10-39 then?” Carlos raised an eyebrow, knowing he asked the wrong question when a predatory grin split across his boyfriend’s face.

“Something we both have abused in our professional duties,” TK smirked, walking over to place his plate in front of him before settling down at the seat across from him with his own plate, unconsciously linking their ankles together underneath the table.

“Uh, no. I haven’t. I think I would have noticed.” Carlos furrowed his eyebrows, growing more confused at TK’s quiet laughter.

“When I complained about traffic in Austin? And you very sweetly asked for a second round and offered to drive me to work with the light bars and sirens? Ring a bell?” TK wiggled his eyebrows, and Carlos makes a sound of protest.

“That doesn’t count!”

“You still offered. Which definitely counts.” TK chooses that moment to pick up a piece of lettuce to stuff in his mouth, effectively ending the conversation. Carlos rolls his eyes.

“That’s just cutting corners.” He huffs, stabbing into one of the potatoes purposefully, ignoring TK’s foot knocking against him. Conversation lulls for a while, and the more Carlos digs into the hearty meal before him, the more his skin tingles, kindled with warmth.

He reaches forward to squeeze TK’s hand, who in turn looks up at him curiously.

“Thank you. For all of this. It’s… I really appreciate it.” Carlos stutters, the overwhelming wave of emotion sweeping over him again as TK simply gives him that smile. The one smile that always seemed to be reserved for him – a smile he felt privileged to witness, and the smile he wanted to see every day for the rest of their lives.

“I can’t take all the credit,” TK’s smile is fond, no doubt remembering all the antics the entirety of the 126 were subject to earlier that day. “It was a team effort – I’m just glad it turned out alright with minor mishaps.” There was a sheepish look on his face, and Carlos notices how he’s picking at the heavier bandage on his right ring finger. He reaches across the table to take the hand gently in his, lifting it up to tenderly press his lips against it while their gazes were still locked on each other. There was a hint of pink that coloured TK’s cheeks at the gesture, making him smile against the hand still pressed to his lips.

“Minor mishaps, huh?” He remarks absently, but doesn’t push any further. TK curls his hand tighter to squeeze his before pulling back slowly.

“I added some more things to our Netflix queue. Want to call it a night and continue to preach about inaccuracies in medical and police dramas with me?” TK tilts his head invitingly, his eyes shining with mirth, and Carlos just wants everything with him.  

“I’ll get the popcorn.”

 ***

Leave work at the door.

That’s what his father had always done when he was growing up. All talk of casework, of work stress, were almost always shed like a layer of skin when he came home, a wide smile present on his lips as he lifted him up into a hug and gave his unruly curls a fond ruffle.

Which was why he was currently still at the station at 10:34pm, finishing up the unexpected paperwork that couldn’t wait when they had been called in to a tip just before his shift ended.

Sighing in both exhaustion and frustration, Carlos glared at the offending words in front of him, his pen tapping restlessly against the table as he chewed on his lower lip.

He had promised his little boy that he would make it home tonight to finally watch the new Disney movie together as a family, maybe even build a pillow fort. Now, that promise felt like a scar etched upon his heart bleeding through his every thought as he tried to focus on the papers in front of him.

Their schedules would start being asynchronous again tomorrow, and although it made it easier so that one of them could always be with their son when the other was on a shift, Carlos missed his husband. He missed coming home to more than just a passing kiss as the other left for their shift, he missed going to bed with a warm body to wrap around him, he missed seeing that smile he’s loved more and more every single day for the past seven years for longer than five seconds.

They tried to have at least one evening a week to just be husbands, to spend time with their son together as a unit, but the case he had been working on for months finally had a breakthrough and they hadn’t gotten proper family time for close to a month.

It was times like these that he didn’t get the usual satisfaction of seeing the nameplate Detective Carlos Strand-Reyes on his desk.

“That’s a very impressive scowl you have going on there, detective.”

Carlos almost falls out of his spinning chair at the amused voice speaking lowly in his ear and spun around abruptly to see TK grinning at him, their three-year-old son Micah in his arms giggling happily.

“Papa!” Micah’s ecstatic voice echoes through the almost-empty precinct, and Carlos immediately catches him in his arms when his son practically launches himself into them.

“Micah! TK, what –” Carlos was a little lost for words, but tampers down the confusion when Micah squishes his cheeks between his tiny hands, grinning broadly. He was sure if his partner hadn’t left to grab them another coffee, she would be taking pictures to last her a lifetime.

“Have gift!” Micah declares proudly, his legs shuffling excitedly as he sat down more comfortably in his lap, and Carlos tips his head up for a quick kiss with his husband before looking at TK questioningly.

“Our son didn’t like how you would be spending movie night alone doing work,” Carlos couldn’t help a laugh at TK’s terrible impression of their son. “So, we decided that since you couldn’t come to us, we would bring family to you.” TK’s expression softened at the end, and Carlos could see how his eyes were taking him in fully, his own eyes doing the same.

He notices his partner arriving back to the precinct then, pausing in the doorway of their shared office. Her eyes lit up with understanding, sending him a quick wink before mouthing out a ‘more for me,’ and gestured to the two coffee cups in her hands. She lifted one of the cups as if in cheers, and quietly slinked away to take a break elsewhere.

Carlos mentally noted to send her a gift basket sometime.

“But you were looking forward to watching the movie.” Carlos looks at his son, and Micah frowned up at him, looking at him like he had suddenly grown two heads.

“Moo’ night is moo’ night ‘cause we all there. Papa, daddy, me. Two…two…” Micah furrowed his eyebrows as he tries to remember the word and TK gently cuts in.

“Together, sweetheart.”

“Together!” Micah repeats louder, and Carlos kind of wants to cry.

TK lifts up a plastic bag between them, and he knows exactly what’s in there when Micah’s eyes light up mischievously.

“Really, Strand?” Carlos deadpans, a smile twitching on his lips at TK’s indignant pout. “A sugar rush near midnight?”

“It’s Strand-Reyes. I didn’t marry you in the pouring rain with a broken foot just for you to neglect the second half of my name. And some occasions require processed sugar no matter what time it is.” TK says softly, and Carlos is momentarily taken back to that memorable day five years ago, where everything that could have gone wrong actually did go wrong, as if testing their brush with fate.

But in the end, love won. Which meant come hell or high water, they would be standing on that altar, no matter how many hours they had to stay at the hospital afterward in lieu of their planned honeymoon.  

When he looks up into TK’s eyes, he could tell his husband had been thinking the same thing, and they shared a private smile.

“It’s chocolate.” TK grins, wiggling the bag enticingly as if his favourite flavour would make him cave, when he in fact had already caved a long, long, time ago.

“What a coincidence. I have French vanilla.” Carlos smiles as TK looks at him knowingly. He had let it slip once that he always kept a batch of French vanilla ice cream, TK’s favourite, in his private minifridge in the office ever since that night a couple of weeks into his new detective role when TK had come into the precinct soaked to the bone and on the verge of tears.

The news was never kind, and his fiancé had to find out through the grapevine that there had been a nasty altercation with the case he had been assigned to and immediately ran out of their house to search for him when he didn’t answer his cell phone. It was somehow the only thing they had at the precinct that day, and TK had stayed beside him for the rest of his shift, occasionally taking bites of the ice cream and cuddling close.

Now, the particular flavour of ice cream served more as both of their comfort food whenever they wanted to feel each other’s presence during a long shift, and sometimes just seeing the familiar packaging immerses him in comfort.

“Papa get break?” Micah’s question pulls him out of his thoughts, and he kisses the top of their son’s curls, smiling affectionately.

“It’s a good thing I have spoons, then.” Carlos pulls out the drawer meant for miscellaneous things, and takes out three plastic spoons from their packaging. He also reaches into the fridge to take out the container of ice cream, with TK doing the same with the two chocolate flavoured ones in the plastic bag. His husband passes one container to each of them, graciously accepting the one in Carlos’ hands extended to him before hopping on to sit on his desk.

“Papa happy?” Micah asked between spoonfuls, and Carlos hugs him tighter against him, leaning his cheek against the back of his head. He looks up at TK who’s watching them fondly, and he has a sudden urge to hug them tightly and never let go. He leaves that for when they all finish their midnight treats, instead reaching out to squeeze TK’s leg and kiss his son’s cheek, feeling lighter than air.

“I’m always happy when I’m with the two of you.”

 ***

Years of laughter, hours of tears. Days of contemplation, millions of joyous occasions.

And you were in every single one of them.

 “We are getting too old for this.”

TK makes a sound of disbelief, turning to shoot him a glare that’s just as piercing as they had been in their younger days, his green eyes sparkling with life.

“Says you, Mr. I’m-seventy-four-but-can-still-lift-double-your-weight. Age shaming will not be a thing that gets between us.” TK scowls, and Carlos laughs at the way the wrinkles that came with age and years of laughter and joy deepened. His husband’s hair was now almost completely grey, matching his own, and yet…

Tyler Kennedy Strand-Reyes was just as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on him.

“My hips are already protesting, and you haven’t even asked me to stand yet.” Carlos mused, laughing as TK extended his hand to him then, looking down at him in exasperation. The dim light from the fireplace lit up his husband’s features in flashes of brief memoirs, with each passing of the flame’s light echoing a different time in their life.

“And when have you ever said ‘no’ to me?” TK raises an eyebrow, his fingers wiggling in front of him, and Carlos touches the palms of their hands together, admiring how well they fit together, even after all these years.

“Plenty of times,” Carlos responds, even as he gets up all the same. Like two pieces of matching puzzles, they fit together effortlessly. The lulling chords to a song whose name was just at the tip of his tongue was playing softly in the background.

“And your hips move just fine,” TK murmurs in his ear teasingly, and Carlos could feel the wide smile against his neck as he laughs.

They sway together, both of them lost in their own worlds. Carlos closes his eyes as he latches on to this moment just like all of their many others through the time they’ve spent together.

“Feeling wooed yet, babe?” Carlos couldn’t hold back a shiver at the warm current of air brushing past his ear, squeezing TK’s hip at the knowing smile pressed against his shoulder. It never ceases to amaze him how far they’ve come since the beginning, never once letting go of each other’s hands, facing anything life threw at them as a team.

All these years, and Carlos still remembered the night that forever altered their futures crystal clear. Two imperfect souls, meeting in the middle. Willing to share each other’s worlds, learn each other’s purpose, and choosing to love through it all.  

Shifting back slightly so that he could look into TK’s eyes, the beautiful green orbs that never failed to be filled to the brim with adoration since that night under the stars, Carlos smiles.

“TK, baby,” He reaches up a hand, cupping his husband’s cheek and feeling his heart stutter when he didn’t hesitate to lean into his hold. Tilting his head to gently press their foreheads together, Carlos revels in the tender warmth of their bubble of intimacy.

It’s with shining eyes as he continues.

 “You’ve been wooing me our entire lives.”

[katelynn-a-fan]

Why We Do What We Do (12)

First | Previous | Next

Virgil realized what he was doing when his vision was full of Roman and he felt those familiar lips on his. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it because his senses were focused on not getting hurt that his conscious mind apparently just left for a moment.

Warm, familiar, face. Wait, I was falling. Towards Roman. Did someone catch me? Wait, why am I kissing… OH FUCK!

Virgil immediately pulled back, rambling apologies, because he knew Roman wouldn’t want to kiss someone who was, to him, a complete stranger.

“I’m sorry! Fuck! I’m so sorry!”

He felt Logan catch him as he backed into him.

“Hey Virgil, it’s okay, it was an accident. He knows that you gotta….” Logan voice floated away as his thoughts drifted away

Virgil continued on rambling, not really listening to what he was saying, in fact, he wasn’t really hearing anything over his screaming thoughts at seeing Roman’s face flushed and confused. He was going to hate him now, Roman would never love him after he kissed him without consent.

No! I can’t come back from this! He’ll hate me. He’ll hate me. Fuck! I can’t! I want-

It wasn’t until he felt Logan’s hand on his shoulder and distantly heard Logan’s voice that he realized he was hyperventilating and starting to spiral.

“Breathe, Virgil, breathe.” Logan’s gentle yet commanding voice faded back into his awareness and cut through the fog of worry permeating Virgil’s mind. Virgil felt Logan’s hand on his shoulder gently squeeze his shoulder. Virgil focused on that sensation and slowly took stock of his surroundings to ground him back to reality.

Virgil realized he had staggered back into a chair and had curled into a ball in a chair and was covering his ears. He hadn’t noticed until that moment.

His mind was still a whirl with thoughts of how he had fucked up his one shot to kindle the relationship he once had with his boyfriend, Roman, who now was a stranger to him.

But Virgil pulled himself out of his self-inflicted prison in his mind as he let his hands relax and allowed his knees to pop as they reached down to the floor. The floor felt cool under his feet. When had he taken off his shoes again?

Oh yeah, he had taken them off after breakfast as he knew he wouldn’t be leaving the hospital for a while and they didn’t necessarily have a rule about taking your shoes off in a patient’s room.

He shivered, but he honestly couldn’t tell if it was because his body was truly cold, because he himself felt like he was just under a frozen lake, but he thought that was just the dread he felt.

Honestly, he deserved it. If he hadn’t hadn’t been so clumsy and tripped, he would not have made Romand endure that.

Virgil couldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy the kiss as his body had taken over before his brain had. And his body was more than willing to enjoy the kiss. The thing is, Virgil knew Roman would never love him like that, would never get those memories back.

But at the expense of intruding on Roman’s personal space and to violate his desire to no doubt slowly understand who the fuck him and Logan and Patton were, it had happened. There was no going back from it.

Even if he had to watch Roman fall in love with someone else, he would be by Roman’s side every step.

Or lack thereof, though Virgil as he noticed the cast on Roman’s foot as if for the first time. Virgil had been too worried about Roman in general to notice the specifics to notice that apparently.

But his mind ground to a halt when he looked back into his former boyfriend’s face.

He was smiling?

Why was he smiling?

What was so funny about Virgil crossing every boundary and not respecting Roman’s bodily autonomy?

Virgil’s mouth fell open. Virgil would’ve been speechless if he even knew where his jaw was.

Was there a sadistic joke in his head about Virgil because he hated Virgil now because he had fucked up?

Virgil would take it. He deserved it. He deserved it. He deserved it. I deserve it.

But instead, what next came from Virgil’s mouth made him speechless for an entirely different reason.

“I guess you can call us Romano and Virgilet now, because your kiss brought me back to life.”

And when Roman’s face turned into his signature smile, Virgil just about died on the spot. His face suddenly felt like it was on fire when moments ago it was as cold as ice.

Behind Virgil, Patton squealed at the pun and started to no doubt stim in his own Patton way, his fists flailing in happiness. While Logan said something along the lines of: “Ugh! That is literally the opposite of what happened in the play in actuality, but at least you tried.” Along with Logan’s signature exasperated sigh at Patton daily puns or Virgil occasional subtle self deprecating joke or even pun sometimes.

But before Virgil could gather his thoughts, much less say something, a doctor and an accompanying nurse entered the room. Virgil looked over, no doubt a complete sight with unkempt hair and bags under his eyes.

Patton stifled his squealing at the sight and Logan looked strangely satisfied as well as a little tense, as if he knew this would happen and was almost waiting for it, to the point of worrying, but of course, not to the extent Virgil was/had been worrying over Roman.

“Oh, hello…. Uh…. doctor?”

The doctor came in and smiled at Roman’s question, looking at her chart and said with a warm expression that made Virgil a little better as it probably wasn’t bad news if she was acting so cheery “It’s Dr. Yates, Roman. You boys have been here for a while and I know you’ve been worried, but I have some good news!”

Virgil would absolutely love some good news right now. He waited with bated breath and wide eyes for the doct- Doctor Yates to speak.

Logan asked evenly without missing a beat, knowing the social etiquette in these circumstances and falling into the role of a patient recipient of the news.

“What is it Doctor- Doctor Yates?”

Virgil didn’t miss the wavering and hesitation in Logan’s voice.

Thoughts of Logan being mad with him as well were quickly brushed away, though those thoughts pertaining to Roman were bouncing through his skull.

Roman again spoke, cracking a joke instead of a pun this time.

“Are you going to tell me this is all a dream or a simulation Morphe-Yates? Wouldn't be the first absurd thing I remember hearing. Actually, no, it would. ”

Roman smirked, but didn’t push his luck at some jokes he was no doubt coming up with moment by moment.

Virgil picked up a slight raise of Dr. Yates’s lips, but she kept her professional attitude and air. That didn’t stop the nurse behind her to snort, his hand coming up to cover his mouth once he realized, as it was probably an instinctual reaction.

Dr. Yates looked back at the nurse and the nurse wilted slightly, being reprimanded without even a word. Dr. Yates turned back to the trio and Roman on the bed, face again back to neutral and professional.

“Ah, yes, that’s what I’m here to talk about. We-”

Dr. Yates let a smile color her face, if only lightly, it was not an overly excited smile, but a hopeful one that promised a possibility of something good coming soon.

And Virgil… would never forget the life that flowed back into his veins as the doctor spoke her next words. The moment forever cemented in his memory as the ‘moment he knew he was getting his boyfriend back.’

“We may be able to solve Roman’s amnesia, not now as it will take time, but we may be able to bring your friend back.”

General Taglist:

@spooky-scary-virgil @hermitcreature

Wwd2 Taglist:

@lefaystrent @ironwoman359 @delimeful @supersoftsupersleep @altruistic-skittles @007ardra @illogicalthinking @absolutesandersidestrash @lalazebra @a-little-bit-of-ace @sanderssidesweirdo @oxylillikay @analogical-mess @blue-bis @thepastelanomaly @morannegg @ironfilly @datfearlessfangirl @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare @ambrechandra

[thestateofardadreaming]

I was tagged by @duchesspeggy (my dearest <3) 

1. Nicknames: Estel, Elwing, The 4 first letters of my real name :P Sometimes people use these four letters + _ette ou + ounette (my fault, i like calling people with :_ette or _ounette at the end of their name). And some less cute nicknames given by my brother XD.

2. Zodiac Sign: Aries

3. Height: 1m65 (something like that)

4. Hogwarts House: Sorry... I have no idea. :P

5. Last thing I Googled: How to extract nature dyes

6. Favorite musicians: The list is going to be very long... You’ve mentioned Goldman so I cannot not mention him. :P Lana del Rey, Marina and Within Temptation. I’m going to stop at the top 3 or else it will be far too long.

7. Song stuck in my head: Unuttun Mu Ben by Sezen Aksu

8. Followers on this blog: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you...

9. Following: 425

10. Do I get asks: Sometimes... And when I do, i get the best asks ever. I’m lucky.

11. Amount of sleep: Sometimes my body decides it doesn’t want to sleep more than 4-5 hours for a couple of days. Sometimes I sleep for 8 to 10 hours like a sleep deprived zombie. 

12. Lucky number: 7

13. What are you wearing: A grey dress

14. Dream job: poet  (Notice that I didn’t change this :P) writer... dreamer.

15. Dream vacation: The wild... mountains. forest. the sea, far far away. 

17. Languages: French, English, Urdu, Spanish, a perfect pronunciation of German when I say Ich spreche nicht deutsch. Ich bin von Genf. (alas for the Swiss romand schooling)  thinking about learning Turkish.  

16. Instruments: My voice

18. Favorite Song:  ONE SONG? How am I supposed to pick ? According to my itunes, the song that I’ve listened to the most is Happy by Marina and the Diamonds. 

19. Random Fact: I have a thing for polka dots in my clothing

20. Aesthetic: Soft, purple & green, wood fae, mountain witch, gauzy, birds and dusky roses. Bright pink lipstick.  

I’m tagging: Well... How does one pick ? The most recent names in my activity :

@myheartisblackandblue

@handsofaheart

@rescuemeifyoucan

@maevelin

... Anyone willing to do this.

[harry-niclach]

Crowns Part 2

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Pairings/Characters: Romantic Analogical (Logan and Virgil) and Platonic/Familial Royality (Roman and Patton) and some oc and side characters that are in a relationship or are implied to be in love!

AU: Fantasy/Medieval based

Summary: Virgil has always been alone. He didn’t believe that there was a place for him out there. So when his Mother left him with a quick to turn Father he seemed more alone than ever. Now, however, someone is trying to help him, what can their reasoning be?

And more importantly, can Virgil stop himself from being too gay and falling for him?

Warnings: Panic, Panic attack, Minor Character Death, Illness, Cuts from falling, Swearing, blood, weapons, sword fighting/knife fighting, chase scene or two, mentions of killing, If there’s more let me know. (These are warnings for the entire book I will put the ones that apply for the chapter in bold!)

“Would you like to come back with me?

It was a small almost meaningless gesture to Logan but it meant the world to Virgil.

“A-are you sure?” His voice was small and sounded so defeated and broken. It made Logan feel the urge to protect and to shield him from the pain and the sadness that he knew this world was capable of producing and firing at the innocent.

“I wouldn't ask if I wasn’t certain.” The sense of finality in his voice left no room for argument so Virgil merely nodded as Logan helped him off the ground and onto his horse. Logan must have been doing something to be out here in the middle of nowhere right? But it seemed that whatever mission he had been on had been abandoned as soon as Virgil was seen as he turned the horse around and they began to ride away from the tower until it was no longer on the horizon.

Virgil’s eyes felt heavy as he held onto Logan’s waist. When he finally thought about it he was exhausted, in fact, he hadn’t slept for days straight, his worry too overbearing. Now though he felt safe and the ma- Logan seemed like a trustworthy person, he could tell.

-^-

Prince Roman. Prince of the South Kingdom of Exalenas (A kingdom of Exalens if you were wondering) had been summoned from hiding in his private wing of the kingdom. Of course, the King wanted to see him. Roman couldn’t really hold a grudge though he loved his Father and it worried him that he was summoned as the King of the South had fallen ill lately and they didn't expect him to last much longer. What worried Roman though, was that the king had called upon him and that rarely ever happened unless an emergency had occurred or if something had happened to his Father and-

No. He couldn’t think like that.

His late Mother had always said that the glass was half full and that no matter the situation there was always a light side even when she herself had fallen ill likely of the same thing as the King had managed to catch.

He reached his Father’s quarters and instead of swinging the doors wide with a flourish he cracked the doors open just enough to slide through and he let them fall shut. He bowed to the servants not because he had to mind you but because they were currently keeping his Father alive, well, they had been.

As Roman walked closer to the bed that the servants had started to avoid -Roman didn’t notice blinded by his pure worry- He reached the bed to see his Father paler than usual and his eyes half-lidded but there was some reassurance as his chest continued to rise and fall, his breaths were obvious shallow and slow.

He was dying.

“Father, I’m here,” Roman’s voice was desperate and his eyes were frantic. He grabbed his Father's hand and refused to let go no matter what.

“Son I love you so much, and I want you to know that I believe in you to look after this kingdom,” The King broke off his sentence but clearly not finished. His raspy voice barely above a whisper,

“No, no, no don’t say that! you-you’ll live I know it!” He knew his voice was raised but he couldn’t bring himself to lower it as hot tears brimmed his eyes,

“Son, I love you and I want you to remember that the glass will always be half full,”

“I love you too Father,” Roman’s voice was quiet as his Father's breathing slowly came to a stop, his hand went limp in Romans leaving him with the words of an ever optimist,

“No! No! You can’t leave me! Please! I need you! Don’t go… Please…” The tears were flooding his face as he began to cry, broken sobs and screams of pure grief ripped through his throat sliced through the otherwise silent room.

Romand laid across his Father's body still gripping his cold, dead hand in his own. The servants had left.

In the end, everyone had left him.

There was no one to comfort him.

No one to hold him and tell him it would be alright.

Nothing.

-

Over the years Roman grew bitter he would be nice to the citizens and the servants but when he was alone he would explode. He threw objects and he broke windows and he punched walls.

He killed enemies with a vicious swipe of a sword to the back of the neck or the spine. He didn't negotiate with lives.

After all, he knew how important lives were.

He continued to expand the Kingdom and he listened to advisors and at this point, he had a reputation to keep up but his act slowly started to falter and fade. The servants began to see his anger and his pent-up feelings from so many years of hiding them and pretending to be okay he stopped the act one day after lashing out at some innocent boy probably around the age of twenty if he had to hazard a guess, the boy didn’t turn to the Prince with hate in his eyes even after he shouted at him and swore and tried to push him away.

He just smiled.

It was a small gesture, a sign of hope for the Prince but it meant the world to him.

Someone was finally there.

-^-

A/N: The support on the first chapter was so great and it made me very happy so I thank you all for your support and I’m glad you’re enjoying the story!

TagList:

Idk if I need to tag you @ts-storytime

@jadekitten1 @super-magical-wizard @impossiblebluebirdcreation @fury-of-rome

if you want to be tagged let me know!

[creatinglives]

I realized, yesterday's photo could have been misunderstood as pro violence. Here is a better one. Now the review: Inspired by Truman Capote, Emmanuel Carrère wrote "The Adversary", a novel about a true crime that happened in France. Jean-Claude Romand didn't only beat his wife to death and shoot his children and parents, his full life as a wealthy, high-positioned doctor at WHO was a complete lie. We have an oversupply of true crime stories nowadays. In book form they seem anyway to go a bit deeper than in podcasts or series, but why should one read exactly this book? I think the big plus is Carrère's sobriety. He follows facts and seeks the psychology behind them. He does not strew emotional catchers between them. I honored, that when he didn't know what exactly happend, he just mentioned what he knows and didn't invent anything. It seems like a quality of french literature to me, this super factual and honest writing, together with talking about the own, personal experience as the author. It gave me vibes of Annie Ernaux, Édouard Louis and Didier Eribon. I find that weird, how can literature from one country be so related? However, what stressed me was Carrère's positive approach to the murderer, how charming he spoke with him in letters and the meeting, even though he glorified no one in the text. But I saw, Emmanuel Carrère had doubts and reflected about his behavior to him. Also he let someone speak that thinks, he just brings the murderer what he wants, more publicity. An argument I can not really disclaim. I'm not a fan of the super factual writing style, but it was perfect for this story. It made me read very fast and built up this real true-crime tension, without making it a story like any other one. Emmanuel Carrère made a more profound effort! For psychologically interested people I truly recommend to read it, it's all about this fascination of a sick human mind and therefor really worth it. #emmanuelcarrère #emmanuelcarrere #ladversaire #theadversary #derwidersacher #literature #igreads #bookstagram #booklover #gayswhoread #photooftheday #instagood #literatur #leseempfehlung #amok #литература #букстаграм #эмманюэлькаррер https://www.instagram.com/p/CaaH7AML1nm/?utm_medium=tumblr

[wonderpommey]

The whole genuinely loving dimension of Roman and Gerri’s relationship has escaped the family because they’re so focused on themselves (Ken, who has probably changed the most this season, seems to be the only one who sees how emotionally devastated Roman is after he speaks to Gerri and goes to hold his hand). The rest of the family (Logan, Shiv and Greg) see the whole DP incident as evidence that Roman is a pervert. They never even bother to ask him if there was more to the DP and they won’t. Shiv only asks Gerri if she welcomed the photos, to see if she can kill two birds with one stone; the only interventions in the family are reserved to people who are committing suicide... Although WE know the truth is way more nuanced than that between Roman/Gerri and why this breakup as tragic and emotionally wrecking as it is for the audience, can still happen in front of literally everyone and no one really takes notice.

So much of how Romand and Gerri feel/felt about each other is still in the shadows of unspoken truths - Maybe it always will be - as I don’t really think they can recover from this; Roman’s whole thing is that he wants someone who can put him above the rest, who can choose to love him over business (spoiler alert he’ll NEVER find that and it’s the naive stance of someone who never really faced any consequences for their actions; here’s hoping that his trip into real life in S4 can bring him closer to understanding where Gerri is coming from). My hope when/if (I’m putting if but there’s really no question about this) they make Roman embark on gay relationships/hookups next season (with Matsson maybe? Good luck with that btw; the guy who thinks everything is boring, who is the true bootleg Logan and uses people’s weaknesses to juice them?!) is that it doesn’t really change the fact that Roman is in love with Gerri in this impossible, unattainable way and that seeing that he has found another “outlet”, she can return his feelings more serenely without putting herself in the hot seat all the time. That would kind of feel like a succession happy ending.

But for sure, the happy reciprocal fully romantic relationship boat has sailed for these two. Even if I appreciate the storytelling, I feel gutted they didn’t have like one episode where you could see what they could have been if they hadn’t been so shakespearianly doomed.

romangerri last night was so funny. like here's this super intense scene with the siblings teaming up against Logan and it's this huge climax where the kids are finally standing up to him and then they'll just occasionally cut to romangerri staring at each other. Kendall and Shiv are entirely focused on Logan but then there's roman and Gerri having their Romeo and Juliet moment. iconic iconic

[mezzopieno-news]

I PANNELLI SOLARI TRASPARENTI PER SALVARE L’ AGRICOLTURA

Pannelli solari traslucidi che migliorano la resa delle colture regolando la quantità di luce che raggiunge le piante mentre utilizzano allo stesso tempo la luce solare per generare elettricità pulita.

Una startup svizzera ha inventato dei moduli fotovoltaici completamente trasparenti che possono sostituire le serre in plastica nei campi coltivati e che combinano lo sfruttamento dello spazio agricolo per produrre contemporaneamente e sullo stesso spazio ortaggi ed energia elettrica, senza sacrificare terreno utile.

I pannelli agrivoltaici Insolagrin rispondono ad un trend in forte espansione a livello europeo per cercare di evitare che i campi coltivati vengano convertiti in centrali fotovoltaiche per produrre energia solare, a discapito della produzione agricola e dell’impatto sui paesaggi rurali. I nuovi moduli solari trasparenti sono dotati di un avanzato sistema di micro-tracciamento ottico che aumenta al massimo la produzione energetica fino a raggiungere un’efficienza di conversione del 30%. I moduli agiscono inoltre come una tenda intelligente che regola la quantità di raggi luminosi da lasciar passare, consentendo l’ottimizzazione della fotosintesi delle piante nelle diverse stagioni dell’anno e aiutando a ridurre l’impatto negativo delle calde temperature estive sulla resa e sulla qualità dei prodotti agricoli. “Sostituire le serre esistenti con strutture fotovoltaiche potrebbe accelerare il processo di decarbonizzazione” secondo Martial Genolet, esperto fotovoltaico della società svizzera Romande Energie che sta lavorando al progetto.

______________

Fonte: Insolight - 1 luglio 2021

✔ VERIFICATO ALLA FONTE | Guarda il protocollo di Fact cheching delle notizie di Mezzopieno

✖  BUONE NOTIZIE CAMBIANO IL MONDO. Firma la petizione per avere più informazione positiva in giornali e telegiornali https://www.change.org/p/per-avere-un-informazione-positiva-e-veritiera-in-giornali-e-telegiornali-e-portare-la-comunicazione-gentile-nelle-scuole

Se apprezzi il nostro lavoro ✛ sostieni Mezzopieno