#Agency Management System Assistant

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[seiwas]

three-part honesty | todoroki shouto

wc: 16.3k

summary: honesty, you've realized, is shouto’s most cunning trait—a quality that's endeared you over the years now rendering you into a stuttering, fumbling mess like never before. 

contains: intended as f!reader but no pronouns used, reader wears heels, a skirt, & a dress, post-canon (divergent), aged-up pro-hero!shouto and assistant!reader, workplace romance, development of feelings, confessions, boss/assistant dynamics, co-workers to lovers (ish), todoroki family dynamics and healing, fluff, slow burn.  

sequel to: two-part something ao3 mirror

a/n: primarily from shouto’s perspective but switching of character pov’s is denoted by ‘( )’. i enjoyed the entire process of writing this fic and hope you do too! 

sponsored by @arcvenes for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please do check it out and support if you can! this is also my submission for the pretty boy summer collab by @andypantsx3.

I. LISTEN CLOSELY

Much to his relief, Shouto’s yearly health check-up turns out just fine. 

His blood work results come back stellar, levels all floating within normal range; some x-rays and scans reveal injuries healing up nicely—that collarbone he’d fractured months ago, especially. Save for a few recommendations on better sleep and stress management, Shouto receives no additional diagnoses for anything particularly concerning. 

Except for this one thing—

“Maybe you have a crush.” Natsuo sinks into the backrest of his chair. A slight ‘squeak’ sounds from its springs as he props one foot up on his knee and clasps his hands over his stomach. 

Shouto thinks it must be some doctor pose; Natsuo’s been doing it more often now that he’s gotten deeper into his medical practice. 

In Shouto’s final year at UA, Natsuo made the decision to fully shift into Pre-Med. The aftermath of the war left a big portion of Musutafu lost and in dire need of a society to believe in. To Natsuo, this felt like a calling; an effort of playing his part to restore faith in a better, functioning system that did not discriminate. Internal medicine felt expansive in that way.

This, of course, also meant that Natsuo was now the (unofficial) assigned private and personal doctor of the Todoroki family—to Shouto, mostly. 

So—

A… Crush?

“How does that happen?” Shouto turns to his brother, head tilted in confusion. His brows furrow slightly. 

This isn’t what he was expecting at all. 

“I mean, you said it in your text,” Natsuo reaches for his phone, clicking it open to scroll. The light from his screen reflects on the gray of his irises; then, he air quotes, “you said: ‘my chest feels weird’, then when I asked if anything happened,” his index finger glides across the screen, swiping through a long block of text uncharacteristic of Shouto’s typical dry responses.

“You detailed the entire scene of–” he pauses for a moment, squinting to find a specific line, “–a santa hat? Being put on you, or something. You didn’t mention who but I figured it was—” 

You, Shouto thinks, at the moment Natsuo says your name. That same two-part thump sounds in his ears. 

You, who’s stayed by his side for the past five, nearly six years. You’ve carved your presence so deeply into his life, it’s become an undercurrent in his speech. He doesn’t even think of having to say your name when he talks about you. 

You, and how he turns over this familiarity with you inside his brain. How everyone knows—

“—who else stays with you in the agency past office hours, anyway?” 

Natsuo raises an eyebrow, knowing. 

“We’ve been working together for a while.” Shouto replies, lips pressed firmly into a small pout. 

If he’s being honest, he’s not sure what compelled him to say something Natsuo already knows. To state the obvious? Or to argue, maybe? To act in denial? To express disbelief? 

He takes a long breath, surveying Natsuo’s clinic. The walls are pristine white, the desk and examination bed the same shade of ashen gray—a conscious choice to keep patients calm; ironic, given the state of his thoughts right now. 

Shouto’s mind is buzzing, and Natsuo watches the muddled confusion in his little brother’s eyes shift and swirl in blue-gray emotion. Then he chuckles, holding onto his arm rests as he stands up from the other side of his desk. 

“It can happen, Shouto.” he plants a palm on his little brother’s head, ruffling red and white the way he would have when they were teens, “It’s been years, right? Feelings can develop over time, that sorta thing, you know?” 

Shouto lets the realization settle in. 

Under the weight of his brother’s hand, he feels like a kid again—right before all the training started; and right before being kept away, excluded from the childhood he could have had with his siblings. 

Shouto feels like a teen again, without the trauma, without the war, being taught things about life and himself, about feelings he never had the time nor capacity to explore.

The two-part thump continues, beating. 

A crush. On you. Huh. 

The rustling of his hair dusts strands of warm, fuzzy feelings over his eyelids. 

This feels… new, he thinks. 

.

.

.

Shouto knows his Mondays. 

He gets to Shouto Agency an hour before everyone else does because he likes the stillness of it right before the day turns busy. The sun is up but only barely, casting a soft glow of blue and orange hues through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. 

This habit began years ago, back when the agency functioned on the 7th floor of a commercial building. It was called Flashfreeze then, and even though it had an entire floor of 24 office units, being in a commercial building still meant sharing common areas with other companies and agencies. The morning rush left the elevators flooded in utter chaos daily. 

To Shouto, going in early meant less people and less noise—a quiet bube he could use to prepare himself for the rest of the day.  

A lot has changed since then: the agency’s move into a larger, newly constructed building of its own; staff, interns, and sidekicks quadrupling in numbers; better office spaces, bigger teams, more facilities—a big expansion, essentially. 

Somehow, despite being more settled in the industry, he finds that the days feel even busier than before. 

So, Shouto keeps his Mondays the same: his preference of coming in early carrying itself into this newer, much larger and private office space, and his same habit of brewing himself a cup of tea finding its own spot by the small kitchen nook you helped design during the construction of his office space. 

Everything about his office is optimized for efficiency: the backdoor, where he enters from on most days, opens to an elevator with a matching staircase that both lead straight down to the costume unit, training grounds, and his own parking area; the blinds of his windows automatically draw up and down at set times of the day; and the minimalism of his entire space is carefully considered, with every area plotted for easy navigation. 

It’s sleek and neat, sharp edges and clean lines, straightforward much like he is. Cold, for the most part, save for the corners touched by your warmth.

Pale yellow jars sit on the counter of his kitchen nook, with each one housing sugar, cinnamon, and his stash of tea.  

When he looks more closely around the room, he spots the fresh flowers on his desk—a vase of luscious white chrysanthemums starkly contrasting the dark grays and browns of his interiors; they tell him you must be in already, because even when he manages to come in an hour ahead, you always, without fail, beat him to it 30 minutes too early. 

And also, like always, you enter his office in the same way you do every Monday morning. 

Your heels clack against his stone flooring, marking your arrival. He turns to face you from the kitchen nook, cup of tea in hand as he greets you. 

“Good morning.” 

You jolt, nearly tripping. Your head whips up quickly as you clutch a mass of folders tightly to your chest. 

He takes a sip of his tea, the corners of his lips curling slightly on the edge of his cup. 

“Si–” you clear your throat, correcting yourself as you take a breath. Then you smile warmly, bowing your head slightly, “Shouto, good morning.” 

“You scared me a bit there,” you add with a soft chuckle. 

It’s endearing, he thinks, seeing you caught off guard, so out of your usual composure.

You loosen your grip on the folders, “I just came to place this on your desk,” your finger taps against the plastic, “I didn’t notice you were here already, sorry.” 

“No worries,” he sets down his tea cup, pocketing one hand in his sweatpants, “do you want some tea?” 

“I’m good, thank you,” you shake your head, walking towards his desk to set the folders down, “Just a couple of debriefs for the case last month.” 

He nods, eyes tracking your movement around the room. You pause then turn to him, clicking your pen as you say, “Let me get your schedule so we can do the run-down.” 

Shouto moves to his desk when you leave, settling into the few squeaks and cracks of the leather chair you helped restore using your quirk—the ability to minimally reconstruct organic matter. 

Not even a few minutes pass until you return, a tablet perched on the crook of your elbow with a digital pen in hand. 

This is part of his Monday routine. 

The agenda you follow is the same: a schedule run-down for the coming week, any notable trips or events, report updates, and department updates. Occasionally, PR will have you relay messages they have trouble communicating nicely—most of the time, they involve suggestions for him to ‘smile more’ or ‘answer questions more enthusiastically’. 

You have no problem telling him these things straight up, and he has no issue hearing it directly from you, either. 

For this week, you detail a few meetings scheduled for tomorrow and Wednesday, along with updates on his costume revisions, to be fitted on Wednesday afternoon, and—

“Deku requested a joint patrol on Thursday morning, so I moved your fitting for the gala to that evening instead. Is that okay with you?” you look up from your tablet, the tip of your pen hovering over the screen. 

In this light, you’re bathed in the colors of sunrise. 

(From where you’re standing, Shouto is backlit by the rising sun. His figure is washed over by a faded shadow, but you can see his eyes clearly, bright turquoise and dark gray staring right at you.

You hold your breath; you are well aware of Shouto’s tendencies to stare, but he’s taking much longer to answer you this time. And you don’t know what to do, where to look. Do you wait until—)

Shouto nods, catching himself lingering. 

You mumble an ‘okay’ before tapping on your tablet. 

The rest of your reminders are about upcoming events and deadlines: there’s the company team building happening in a few weeks, and a few reports due today and tomorrow. Fuyumi moved the family lunch to Saturday to make way for his photoshoot on Sunday. 

He watches you from his desk as you speak, your foot tapping in conjunction with each item you relay to him, as if marking every point. It’s a thing you do, something he’s noticed in the years you’ve worked together. 

Shouto knows his Mondays, and he’s always been relaxed during these earlier parts of it. 

But ever since that check-up with Natsuo, he’s been more… conscious about it lately. It seems to be a consistent trend that every time he’s around you, he feels a significant uptick in his heartbeat. 

Except now, when you speak—

“Will you be bringing a plus-one to the gala this year? The committee is confirming how many seats they’ll reserve for you.” 

—his heart feels like it drops, plummeting straight to his stomach. 

He looks at you intently, a slight crease forming between his brows. 

You go to most of these things with him; you always have, ever since. 

So, why are you even asking? 

He thinks about it, deciding what to say next. The thought of you not going with him feels weird. Unusual. 

If you’re unavailable, he supposes he can just go alone. 

But—

“What should I do then?” Shouto shifts in his seat, peering up at his brother. 

Natsuo’s instinctive reaction is to laugh; after all, it’s not often that you see pro-hero Shouto at a loss on troubleshooting. But when he spots pure and genuine uncertainty swirling in heterochromatic gray and blue, he sees his little brother—Shouto at ages 4, 8, and 12, still a little helpless on what to do.

“Do you want to do something about it?” Natsuo asks gently, squeezing Shouto’s shoulders. 

Shouto doesn’t say anything. 

The lack of response tells him all he needs to know. 

“Maybe figure that out first, then just be honest about it when the time comes. Nothing beats saying it plain and simple.” 

—‘just be honest about it’ echoes in his head, Natsuo’s voice morphing into his own.

“Will you not be available?” he manages to ask flatly, masking his worry. 

(You look up from your tablet and his eyes meet yours, an intensity in his gaze that’s only been directed at you a handful of times before.) 

“Oh,” you fluster a little, shifting your weight, “I will be, but I just thought…”

He can hear you hesitate, voice trailing off as if contemplating your next words. His head dips to coax you to go on. 

“...I just thought, maybe you’d want to bring someone from your family?” you give a small smile, half-genuine, half-uncertain. 

You know Shouto’s family; know their stories and know what each of them are like, individually. 

You know how far they’ve come into healing, seeing Touya through multiple cycles of rehab and relapse. You’ve witnessed his mother’s strength first-hand, watching her rebuild their family with the help of Fuyumi. On the weekends when work wouldn’t let up for Shouto, she’d welcome you to join in family lunches too. 

There were days during Natsuo’s medical internship when he’d go to the office at midnight because the hospital was nearby. It was the only free time he and Shouto had at the time, but Natsuo would ask you to join in, the three of you slurping on cup noodles while Natsuo prattled on about the absurdity of some of his coworkers. 

So, Shouto can fully understand your intentions. After all, he thinks you’ve been instrumental to his family’s healing, too. 

But he has his reasons for never bringing Fuyumi—she usually has school the next day, if not volunteer work at an orphanage. Natsuo has gotten increasingly busier with his practice, and Touya—Touya is still in rehab, and though he’s allowed at home three times a week, Shouto’s sure he’d rather spend it doing things other than being in a room full of pro-heroes. 

“It might be nice to bring your mom,” you add on.

And as for that—

“The gala is this Friday?” he leans forward, the tips of his bangs brushing his eyelids. 

You nod.

“She and Touya are going to the gardens,” he recalls, his mother casually mentioning it the last time he visited. 

You look pleasantly surprised, “Oh,” then your small smile returns, “that’s good to hear.” 

(It must mean a lot to Rei, you think. She’s always wanted to make up for lost time.) 

You don’t say anything else, silence filling the conversation as you hold his gaze.

It isn’t uncommon for Shouto to hold stare-offs, with you especially, but this might just be the first time he feels fully conscious about it—wondering what you’re thinking; if you can read his mind and tell what he’s thinking. 

“Do you not want to join me?” he asks, a small pout forming on his face. 

(The softness of his cheeks sink just a little bit, and his eyes lose some of the luster they typically carry in the morning. 

He looks so sad, you wish you just said yes in the first place. 

How do you even respond to this?) 

“No, n-no–” you stutter, inching forward subconsciously, “–it’s nothing like that.” 

You check your tablet, swiping through your calendar. He can see portions of it from where he’s sitting, your Friday definitely freed up and empty. 

He pushes himself up, standing to full-height. His hands dig into the pockets of his sweatpants as he tilts his head to the side. 

“What seems to be the problem then?” 

(In your years of knowing Shouto, you’ve learned that he never intends to sound harsh even though his words may seem like it. But even though you’re aware that he only means to be curious, you still feel a little embarrassed admitting that you didn’t anticipate the possibility of going to the gala with him this Friday. 

You’ve always been prepared; it’s in your job description to be like this. You should have had a back-up dress just in case. You shouldn’t have shown Shouto your hesitation in the first place.

So, you breathe out, voice level and calm. This is your problem to fix, you don’t have to let him know about it. You’ll find a way, like you always do.) 

“There’s no problem. I’ll add my name to the list then.”

Then you smile, but it’s just a touch uneasy, and if there’s one thing you underestimate about Shouto—for just as much as you know him, he’s gotten to know you pretty well too. 

He pauses. The last thing he would want is for you to feel forced to go.

“If you have other plans, I hope you don’t feel obligated to go. I can go alone.”

His brows furrow, crease deepening and heart still sinking. 

(And you can see it, that little pout on his face staying right where it is. 

You’re endeared, touched by his consideration.

“I don’t have other plans,” you grin, brighter and more at ease, “and I don’t feel forced to go either,” you sigh, hiding a small chuckle. 

A pause. 

You mull it over before deciding to admit why you were hesitant in the first place, “I thought you were going to bring your mom, so I wasn’t able to prepare a dress.”)

Shouto’s eyes widen slightly, mouth opening to express his apologies. 

“But–!” you interrupt, “That’s my fault,” you raise your hand, swaying it side-to-side. “So please don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” 

The smile on your face is meant to reassure him, he knows, but he still feels guilty. 

This Friday’s gala is the Annual Midyear Pro-Hero Awards; it’s grand because it’s important, and the dress code is always black-tie—everything typically made custom. 

He tilts his head slightly, thinking, eyes zeroing in on the small calendar propped up on his desk.

“My suit is being made by Bakugo’s parents, correct?” 

You nod, reiterating, “Your final fitting is on Thursday night.”

His gaze flits to you once again. 

(There’s that look in his eyes you’ve become all too familiar with—a glint of mischief accompanying a sort-of ‘Eureka!’ moment that means he’s thought of something.

The pieces click together, realization dawning upon you, but when you open your mouth to refuse—)

“I can ask them to do yours as well.” Shouto beats you to it. 

It wouldn’t be fair for you to scramble for your outfit last minute simply because he assumed you knew you were going. You shouldn’t be more stressed than you already are. 

“Si– Shouto,” you say firmly, “That’s too much.” 

“I’m sure they won’t mind,” he flashes you a small smile. 

(And you hate to admit it, but he’s right.

The Bakugo’s have known you for as long as you’ve been Shouto’s assistant. They’ve consistently designed his suits for big events like the Pro-Hero Awards, and Mitsuki has always extended their services to you too, knowing full well that you are Shouto’s plus-one most of the time. 

She likes to chat with you during suit pick-ups, with Masaru serving you a cup of tea as you wait for minor tweaks and adjustments to Shouto’s outfits. 

“It would be too last minute,” you resist, feeling bad for the hassle this would impose on them.

“Then I can call them later today.” Shouto reaches for his phone, eagerly typing what you assume is a reminder to call Mitsuki some time later, just as he said he would. 

“You–” your voice hesitates, “you don’t have to do that. I can contact their secretary–”

This is part of your job, after all. 

“It will be much faster if I call them directly.” 

And while he does have a point, you still feel bad, inching closer towards his desk, “It’s okay, you shouldn’t have to concern yourself with this–” 

He gives you a look. 

You stop moving. 

Shouto is stubborn, this much you know. When he looks like this, you’re well aware that there’s no point dissuading him from doing something he’s already set his mind to.)

“It’s only right given that I told you last minute.” 

He tells this to you sincerely; it really is the least he can do. 

Besides—

“…be honest…” the words replay in his head.

—he swallows his truth; lets it sink deep into stomach along with that two-part thump in his chest. 

“I only feel comfortable going to these with you, anyway.” 

(Your mind blanks, coming up with nothing else to say but ‘okay’.) 

.

.

.

Cameras flash as Shouto steps down from his van. 

The building ahead of him is colossal, tall pillars and perfect arches made of raw stone and marble—it feels both ancient and otherworldly, fitting to represent Musutafu in this new age. Ahead of him, the staircase stretches on, steps spanning the width of half a block. Down its center cascades a luscious carpet, thick velvet that further lends to the grandeur of the event. 

Standing at the foot of the staircase, Shouto takes a moment to unbutton his suit jacket, revealing his perfectly fitted waistcoat underneath. 

(You know he isn’t doing it on purpose; it’s hardly ever Shouto’s intention to make people swoon, but you’re positive that that one move alone can make anyone melt on sight—you included.) 

Tonight is the Annual Midyear Pro-Hero Awards, a prestigious event where hero rankings, major announcements, and charity biddings take place. 

(It’s not anything new to the both of you, but Shouto skipped out on the past two, and it’s been years since you joined him on the last one he went to. Being here again after so long makes you feel a little out of practice.

After he scales the flight of stairs ahead, Shouto turns back to you, offering his arm for support as you step down from the vehicle. You hesitate, partly because you don’t know whether it’s acceptable behavior for you to take it, and also because you don’t remember if this was something you did the last time you went to one of these with him.

You can’t think straight—not when he looks as seraphic as he does, face half-illuminated by the lights behind him with the shadows hugging the softness of his cheeks. 

Shouto is beautiful, a fact you’ve known long before you ever even started working with him; but you’re reminded of that fact in moments like this, especially. 

“The steps are tall,” he tells you, shaking you out of your thoughts as you glance back at the staircase behind him. You try not to stare, but the strands that frame his forehead shift from his sudden movement; it scatters into a perfect mess—characteristic of how anything out of place always seems to look on him.

You take his offer.)

His forearm is firm against your palm, the thick fabric of his suit jacket providing cushion for your touch. When he bends it towards his chest, your fingers slip towards the crook of his elbow. 

Scarlet red contrasts the building’s stone white structures, the carpet providing a center stage for all heroes and public figures to parade their outfits. If not for the photographers yelling, “Shouto, right!” and “Shouto, left!”, he would have gone straight inside, barely pausing on the landings between each flight of stairs. 

You stand to the side when he takes them, just as you always do. But between each flash that goes off, Shouto thinks about whether you should join him too; after all, Mitsuki did intend for the dark navy of your dress to match the stone gray of his three-piece suit. 

When you finally arrive at the lobby of the city hall, the two of you are welcomed into a receiving area adorned with crystal chandeliers. The lights bounce off the sharp white edges of the building’s neoclassical interiors, the carpet’s scarlet red returning as a recurring motif in the form of drapes cascading from the high ceilings and down the sides of the room.

By this time, Shouto’s relaxed a bit more, his hand slipping loosely into his front pocket. 

(You don’t realize you’re still holding onto him until you’re midway across the floor.) 

“Hey, you guys!” Kirishima waves over, squeezing himself within a narrow space between the backs of who look like one of the executives of the hero commission and last year’s awarded peace ambassador. 

(You don’t know how he could have possibly fit, the width of him wider than any pro-hero you know, but you chuckle at his timid mumbles of “sorry, excuse me, just passing through.” It reminds you of how he typically approaches you when he asks for favors regarding joint patrols and assignments with Shouto.

He greets you both with his trademark hug, a bone-crushing grip that leaves you a little winded.) 

“I didn’t know the two of you were coming!” 

“It was a last minute decision,” Shouto smiles, small and fond. 

(You look at Shouto intently from beside Kirishima, as if processing what he means. And when his eyes meet yours, you feel caught, shy, averting your gaze quickly.)

Kirishima clears his throat, no doubt noticing the interaction but choosing to focus on something else instead—Shouto’s outfit, a dark navy tie tucked underneath a fitted gray waistcoat; the white collar of his button down peeking through the all stone-gray ensemble. His hair is styled down, bangs curled inwards to form commas that frame his forehead.  

“Looking good, man.” the red head deflects, joining his index finger and thumb to form an ‘O-K’ sign as he nods at Shouto. Then he turns to you, the same genuine smile on his face as he says, “That color really suits you.” 

You smile sheepishly, mumbling, “Thanks.” 

(Kirishima is a sweetheart; you can never doubt that his intentions are pure. But the attention makes you feel a little self-conscious, even more now that—) 

Shouto looks at you then, again, too.

It’s the only time he’s managed to get a real good look at you if he’s being honest; from the incident in the car to the flashing lights up the staircase, there haven’t been many opportunities to fully see what you’re wearing. 

And—

Kirishima’s right. 

The color really does suit you, but so does the design of your dress—a simple cowl neck joining into halter straps; it dips low at the back, this detail of it, he knows. He’s been careful not to touch you there the entire time so far. It doesn’t help that your hair is tied into a low bun, accentuating the vacant space with how the dress hugs you beautifully in all the right places. 

The dark navy satin was a good choice, the perfect vessel for catching ripples of light. 

It’s simple but classic; understated, just like the accessories you’ve chosen are. And it brings out the one thing he thinks carries this look the most—

You. 

He tries to form the words in his head, urging himself to speak up—he wants to give you a compliment of his own. 

But—

“Bakubro!” Kirishima waves overhead, much like he did earlier. 

—maybe he can try again next time. 

You and Kirishima don’t stay long after Bakugo arrives, Ashido coming in to whisk you and the redhead away to the main room. She loops her arm around yours and pulls you towards her, prompting you to give one last glance at Shouto as an expression of your apologies. 

The corner of his lips curl only the slightest bit. 

Bakugo watches. 

“Don’t forget the drinks, Blasty!” Ashido calls over her shoulder, green silk flowing behind her. 

He tuts, grumbling as he heads towards the reception bar, leaving Shouto in the middle of the receiving area, unsure of where to follow. 

“Y’coming or what?” 

Shouto lingers for a few seconds, watching your back disappear into the hall before he decides to walk after Bakugo.  

The lobby begins to quiet down as people flood into the main event area, a large hall adorned with the same scarlet red drapes and crystal chandeliers. The table arrangements have been pre-selected and arranged, you and the others most likely finding your seats inside. 

“Old hag told me you’re dating.” 

Bakugo speaks, his back still turned to Shouto. 

The bar in front of them offers a generous selection of drinks, all ranging from different wines to cocktails and liquor shots. It isn’t a surprise that Bakugo knows all of his friends’ chosen drinks, down to each specificity—it’s how he shows that he cares. Shouto’s come to learn that over the years. 

Their friendship has settled into its own dynamic as Bakugo’s mellowed down. Shouto will ask a question here and there, and Bakugo will look at him like he’s the dumbest fuck on the planet, but still answer anyway. 

It works, as evidenced by right now. 

Shouto stops right beside Bakugo, leaning against the countertop as he hums, confused, “Who?” 

Bakugo sighs, sliding Shouto his gin and tonic, “Mom.” Then he rolls his eyes, gesturing towards the door of the main room, “She told me you two are finally dating.”

Shouto pauses mid-sip. 

When he recalls the conversation he had with Mitsuki, it went a lot more like:

“Can a dress be made for my assistant as well?” he speaks into the line, “I will be bringing them to the gala.” 

He doesn’t think he insinuated anything. 

But now that he replays it in his head, it’s no wonder Mitsuki’s enthusiastic reply sounded so eager. 

Bakugo snorts, smirking as if his suspicion was just proven right, “Knew that lady was hearin’ shit.” 

The bartender serves up another drink, Ashido’s raspberry daiquiri being placed right in front of the blond before he moves on to mix another one. Clacking ice fills in the silence, the drink coming together inside the shaker. 

Shouto stares at his drink and watches as little bubbles form on the slice of lime submerged in it. 

“Are you at least thinkin’ about it?” the blond faces Shouto, leaning his forearm against the counter. 

Shouto furrows his brows, a single thought running through his mind.

“How did you know?” 

Bakugo stares, deep vermillion as he speaks, deadpan, “You can’t be serious.” 

Shouto stares right back. 

Another drink is served, Kaminari’s mixed drink of vodka, lime, and lemonade.

The stare-off persists for a few seconds, a series of blinks emphasizing Shouto’s cluelessness to the whole ordeal. Because—why does it feel like everyone knows? Did he mention it without knowing? Or is it really just that obvious?

Bakugo sighs, mentally facepalming as he turns back to watch the bartender shake another drink, “Whatever. S’none of my business.” He leans onto the counter, elbows resting on the steeltop. 

Shouto isn’t sure what else to say. He knows that Bakugo is observant, that his friend has always had a keen sense of awareness for the things going on around him; it just never crossed his mind that that would include his interactions with you.

The blond slides over Ashido’s drink, prompting Shouto to hold the flute of the glass between his fingers, “Just don’t be a fuckin’ dumbass about it. Gotta be dense as hell if you think the way you’re treated is part of the job description.”

The bartender serves up the final drink: Sero’s whiskey on the rocks. Bakugo takes it along with Kaminari’s and starts walking back to the main room, Shouto following right behind him. 

He thinks about it. 

A thump. 

Because right before they both enter the hall, Shouto spots you, further back at the right side of the room as you laugh at something Yaoyorozu must have said. 

He blinks, wondering if the soft glow around you is from the haziness of his eyes. 

“If y’don’t do shit first, some other loser will,” Bakugo mumbles, just within ear-shot before he walks ahead to where Kirishima and the others are seated. 

Shouto makes a mental note to drop off Ashido’s drink before heading over to you. 

.

.

.

You and Shouto leave the gala early.

A message from the police station came in the middle of the event: a request to bump up a few reports for submission tomorrow.

You’d mentioned to Shouto that he could stay, especially since he’d be needed to accept awards that you were sure he’d be the recipient of—among them being one of the top performing agencies of the year, a big chunk of it based on the high turnover rate of timely reports. But he insisted that someone else could represent him instead; he’s certain Midoriya wouldn’t mind. 

If you were going back to the agency to work, so was he. 

The night shift at the agency is minimally staffed, with most sidekicks and pro-heroes out on patrol. Regular employees have clocked out by this time, and it seems that the only ones left in the building are the emergency unit and the two of you. 

You’ve split the work between you two: Shouto tasked to fill in the second pages, where the scene-by-scene breakdown and additional comments can be found, and you, in charge of summarizing those details along with all basic information onto the first pages. 

It feels nostalgic, watching you flip through the papers laid out on the coffee table of his lounging area at a quarter past midnight. Back then, he had just hired you, and the only other employees in the agency were his gear tech and PR manager. There was no way the volume of workload could be managed without spending late nights organizing investigations and reports on the floor of that rented studio unit. 

Now, you sit by the coffee table in his lounging area, one you helped decorate. The books atop it have been pushed to the side to give you ample workspace, but even those remind him of how much consideration you’ve put into helping him build his space. 

Bakugo’s words linger when he thinks about it—how the books you’ve chosen remind him of his family. There’s one on the language of flowers that his mother would love, and a cookbook that he’s sure Fuyumi’s used (some corners are folded, with her handwriting scrawled on every other page). On another stack lie a few comic books he remembers Touya and Natsuo reading when they were younger (that he’s pretty sure he’s seen them flip through during their visits to his office over the years).  

And along with all the books sits a family photo taken years ago, framed and taken by you during one of their annual trips to their family beach house a few hours away from the city. 

It begins to sink in. 

A thump.

He folds the sleeves of his button down to his elbows, his gray suit jacket long since draped over the back of his leather chair. You’ve changed out of your heels too, opting instead for the soft slippers you keep under your desk. 

It’s cute, he thinks, the formality of your entire get-up toned down by a pair of fluffy yellow slippers. 

When he glances at you again, he finds you hunched over yourself on the sofa of his lounging area, an arm wrapped around yourself as if to contain whatever warmth you have left. 

He furrows his brows. 

“Are you cold?” his voice booms through the stillness of his office, jostling you out of focus. You whip your head up to look at him, shaking it immediately as if on autopilot. 

(He pouts, then, a small downturn of his lips that you find adorable, more than anything.) 

“I’m okay,” you smile, but he can see the slight twitching of your lip; the goosebumps dotting down your trembling arms. 

You always seem to be doing things like this with him. 

He pushes himself away from his desk, the wheels of his chair rolling against the stone floor. 

You never express your discomfort in any situation you’re put in, and you diligently work and endure all conditions to get the job done. He always extends his help, but you often decline, and—

“You have to be dense as hell if you think the way you’re treated is part of the job description.”

—Shouto is beginning to realize that the way you treat him really is so much more than that. 

You’ve laid the groundwork of the operations in his agency and you always smooth talk your way to getting him out of schedules he mistakenly forgets to show up to (typically with good reason, though). You cover all the areas he misses—this entire building would not be how it looks and functions without your help overseeing its construction. 

You’re organized and driven, eager and compassionate, and you care, above all else. 

The flowers you leave on his desk are never needed, but you always insist on them to keep his space alive. You fix all his clumsy papercuts, even though he never asks you to; he’s dealt with much, much worse, yet it’s only a split-second after you spot it that the tingling of your quirk works its way to mend his split skin. 

It’s just like what happened in the car earlier tonight, a few minutes away from reaching the city hall. Shouto had accidentally cut himself with the invitation to the gala, and though he insisted that it was okay, it was right on his eyelid—a miracle it even missed his eyeball in the first place, you’d commented. 

You managed to convince him then, saying, “It’s going to sting every time you blink.” —which was true; it did sting every time he blinked. 

That care extends to the people in his life too. His mom loves to go to the weekend market with you, and Fuyumi can always count on you to help her cook when she needs an extra hand. You keep up with Natsuo’s jokes and Touya talks to you, long enough conversations that allow him to be himself. 

You care, and you insist upon your care especially when you know he needs it but would never ask for it. 

It’s only fair, then, that it’s time he does the same for you. 

He removes the suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, the movement drawing your attention. 

(Your eyes widen as he approaches you. You feel shy, a little flustered as you raise your hands up to reassure him that you don’t need it.) 

“Your arms are shivering.” he points out, holding up the thick fabric. 

You crane your neck up to look at him, just a few steps away from reach. 

(You can’t deny the facts.)

From above, he only sees skin—the plunging dip of your exposed back, the small hairs standing along your arms. He tries his best to look into your eyes only, but—

“At least let me place this over you.” 

(And you know you can’t deny Shouto, either.) 

—when you concede and let him, he steps closer and bends just a little bit, his full height too tall to be able to place it on you properly. His arms circle around you, carefully resting the thick wool around your neck and onto your shoulders. 

He bends lower to adjust the sleeves, making sure that your arms are fully covered. You’re so still, and so close, the tips of his ears nearly touching the highest points of your cheeks. 

(It’s just like the gala—)

It’s just like the car—

(—with Shouto helping you navigate through the crowd of people exiting the event as early as you both did. His presence was a steady heat against your back, near and warm but barely touching.)

—with your face almost nose-to-nose with his; apart from the gentle touch of your fingertip against his eyelid, Shouto can only remember feeling that, along with the traitorous thump of his heartbeat. 

It’s a good thing that he had his eyes closed then; he wouldn’t have known how to react at the proximity. 

But now, he can see you so clearly, your low bun kept in place by bobby pins the same color of your hair; there’s glitter on the inner corners of your eyes, some of it falling to dot the corners of your nose. 

This has to be more than just a crush if he’s feeling this intensely.  

Your eyes meet for a brief moment, then it’s two blinks before you look away, clearing your throat as you glance at him again, a little bashful, “Thank you.” 

Shouto nods, taking one step back. 

“The estate we booked for the company outing offered to host a visit for you next weekend.” you speak before he fully returns to his seat, shifting in your seat, “I checked your schedule and there’s nothing set for that day yet.” His suit jacket dwarfs you, the deep navy silk becoming an accent the further you sink into it, “Maybe you’d like to go with your mom?”

You suggest it to him again. Because you know and you care. 

He taps his foot, looking out into the city, “That would be nice.” Then he turns back to you, strands of his bangs falling to dust his forehead as he puts his hands inside his pockets, “You’ll be coming too, then?” 

(There are things you don’t allow your heart to feel in moments like this—hope being one of them. Shouto looks dangerously attractive in a suit, and it’s been difficult to keep your feelings at bay the entire night. He speaks honestly, rarely with double meaning, so when he speaks to you like this, you try not to think too much of it. 

“Yes,” you agree, thinking that he must want you to scope out the venue for the company outing activities, “is there anything in particular that you want me to check out for the team building?”)

Shouto tilts his head. 

“Not for work,” he clarifies, staring straight into your eyes. “Just to spend the day with us.” 

He expects your reaction already, your eyes widening and your hands raising to wave off a ‘there’s no need.’ But, he finds that there’s no reason for you to be shy, already beating you to the final say.

“Mom would want you there,” he mentions, because it’s true. She’d look for you. 

And if he’s being completely honest with himself, with how he’s been feeling around you lately—he would too. 

II. IF I SPEAK

The Todoroki family home comes alive on the weekends. 

Since Touya’s return, his mom has moved into a smaller, more modern place to stay. The walls of its exteriors are painted a warm off-white, its features complemented by light wood and bluish-gray accents. At the back exists a garden large enough for a few small trees and her growing flower collection—a complete flip from their larger and darker old home. 

The tall windows stream sunlight into the living space, each corner of the house doused in its comfort. Opting for a smaller home was a conscious choice—everything would be within reach, and so would the people in it. 

On the days that Touya is allowed to stay home from rehab, he lives here, sometimes with Fuyumi, but always with Rei. 

“Food is ready!” Fuyumi calls from the kitchen, prompting Touya and Natsuo to look over from the couch. Shouto is just about to finish setting the table when Rei brings out a piping hot pot of soup, Fuyumi in tow with a whole plate of tonkotsu. 

Natsuo heads inside the kitchen for anything else that might need carrying, and Touya opens the fridge to take out the iced tea he helped make last night.

It’s taken some time to get here—with Touya willingly doing anything with his family. Getting used to living with people he thought abandoned him for a decade is hard; learning to become a family has been even harder. 

But Touya has always lived in a special corner of his mother’s heart—never forgotten and always considered. Shouto thinks it’s the same case for all of them; that’s how it’s managed to work. 

Touya takes his seat beside Shouto, pouring himself a glass of iced tea while waiting for the rest of their family. 

“Played any golf lately?” Touya eyes Shouto from the side.  

Shouto shakes his head, staring at his palms; calluses used to line the base of his fingers, “Work at the agency has gotten busy.” 

Taking up golf has been part of Touya’s rehabilitation program for the past few months, a recommendation to aid in improving focus while keeping himself calm. And though there was much resistance at first, Touya’s grown fond enough of the sport to play it on his own; it’s made all the difference, Shouto’s noticed, his brother’s overall disposition a lot less angry—

“Looks like I’m going to beat your ass next week,” Touya smirks, cracking his wrists. 

—but still equally as snarky.

Shouto doesn’t normally care about competition; the only person he really has to beat is himself. But he and Touya are alike in many ways, with eyes as sharp as their father’s but their faces holding the same innocence as their mother’s. They are both lit up by fires—one forced to blaze and the other forced to dim. There is a bluntness Shouto shares with Touya that no one else in the family can argue with.

“Being too confident can jinx it for you on the fairway,” Shouto replies, turning to his brother with his signature blank gaze. 

Natsuo laughs as he settles into his seat beside Touya, watching as his older brother’s smirk quickly dissolves into a frown. 

“Little shit,” Touya mumbles, taking a sip from his drink. 

The corners of Shouto’s lips curl up slightly. 

Rei and Fuyumi join the table last, bringing out a steaming pot of rice and a few side dishes to complement the rest of the meal. 

These family lunches keep them connected. 

Fuyumi believes that no matter how busy they are, having this time to gather together and share details on each other’s lives is important.

“Sorry I can’t join you and these two next weekend, mom,” Natsuo starts, slicing through his tonkotsu as he points an elbow towards his brothers, “The hospital has a medical mission out of town.” 

Rei simply smiles, waving her hand, “No need to apologize. I’m so proud of you, Natsuo.” 

“Will you be free, Fuyumi?” she turns next to her, placing a hand on Fuyumi’s lap. 

Fuyumi swallows her food, smiling apologetically, “Sorry, mom, the school’s hosting a kiddie pool party for the first day of summer.”  

Rei pats her lap reassuringly, smiling again as she says, “It’s no problem, I’m glad the kids are having fun under your care.” 

“It’ll just be the three of us, then.” Rei looks at her two boys across from her—her eldest and her youngest. 

Touya blows at his bowl, puffs of steam dissipating into the air. For as hot as Touya’s flames can get, he dislikes anything too hot to eat—a preference of his that Rei’s taken note of as she reaches across the table to cool down his bowl ever so slightly. 

“Thanks,” Touya mumbles, still hesitant to call her ‘mom’ when it’s face-to-face. 

“I heard the estate has a greenhouse,” Shouto mentions, Rei instantly perking up at the information, “You can take a look at the plants there, mom.” 

“That sounds lovely, Shouto,” she smiles; this time, it reaches her eyes, “We can take photos in your handsome outfits too.” 

Touya scrunches his nose as Shouto nods. As per the invitation, the estate prepared a whole day’s worth of activities—a game of golf in the morning, brunch by the gardens, and a simple wine tasting to cap off the afternoon. 

Lunch continues with Fuyumi sharing more about the kids she’s handling this year, and Natsuo retelling interactions of the most obnoxious patients he’s had yet. 

They laugh, a little more like a family—Shouto chuckling as Touya gives a snarky comment or two. Fuyumi laughs, full-bodied, and Rei giggles, softly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. 

“How are your flowers, mom?” Shouto asks after they settle down, remembering that you helped her pick out which ones to plant last time. 

“The morning glories are going to be blooming soon,” Rei replies, her smile fond and proud. Since being released from the hospital years ago, she’s taken to planting and flower arranging, oftentimes asking you to help her choose which ones to use. 

“Really?” Fuyumi turns her head, gasping as she catches a glance from the window across the room, “They look good, mom! Can I have some when they bloom?” 

Rei nods, turning to her youngest, “You can get some too, Shouto.” 

For you, she adds.

Natsuo eyes him from the side as he freezes, Rei suggesting some more, “You can place it in a vase. It’s not fair, you always receive flowers for your desk.” 

Shouto nods, a small ‘okay’ because he doesn’t really know how else to respond without giving his feelings away. 

Touya observes Shouto’s expressions, his eyes twinkling in sinister aquamarine.

“Speaking of,” he shifts in his seat, crossing his legs to face Shouto, “s’your hot assistant coming?” 

Something twists in Shouto’s face, his brows furrowing slightly. 

Touya knows just how to get on Shouto’s nerves.

(What stares back at him is a deadly shade of gray and blue. 

Touya does this pretty often: provoking just for fun. 

Shouto stares at almost everyone he interacts with; it’s unnerving and uncomfortable for people who aren’t used to it, but Touya’s noticed that his little brother stares at you for far longer than he needs to. 

And though he’s missed a big chunk of how Shouto grew up, he likes to think he reads him pretty well now—how he acts around you, especially.

At his core, Shouto believes in carving his own path, choosing to fix wrongs and better himself for the now. Touya knows these things, knows where a person is weakest, just like he’s been taught—just like he’s been made aware of his entire life. Yet, for how independent Shouto’s become, he still chooses to lean on you; turns to you for thoughts and opinions,  considering you in everything. 

Touya has met you a few times; the whole family has. During the worst of his relapse, you were the only person apart from family who was trusted to accompany him in and out of rehab. You picked him up and dropped him off, often joining Rei and Fuyumi on visits when Shouto would be too busy. 

To him, you’re an extension of Shouto at this point—an olive branch that’s been just as instrumental in healing this family and the people in it. 

It’s never in the big things, but those few minutes of small talk you attempt with him in the car ride home help loosen his tongue, training a muscle that with time, has helped him open up more. 

Touya doesn’t care much for people; he’s still just beginning to learn to love his family again, but he thinks you fit in well, because you and Natsuo have the same god-awful humor, and Fuyumi only trusts you to help out in the kitchen. His mom likes having you around, and you never stick your neck in too deep in other people’s shit when they aren’t ready for it—especially his. You never nag Shouto, but you stand firm on the things you disagree with, because as far as Touya can see, you care, far deeper than your job requires you to. 

In all ways, you are the stability and calm authenticity that Shouto needs after growing up in such a tumultuous family.

So, Touya likes to stir the pot a little. Or a lot. Maybe.

Just for fun.)

Shouto continues to stare, his frown deepening. His jaw clenches, tension throbbing in his temples.

“Don’t say it like that,” he mutters, low and firm.

He feels like a kid again; like this would be a conversation they’d be having if things were normal and Touya had been around when Shouto turned 15, teasing him about a crush he might have, like older brothers do. 

Natsuo and Fuyumi have always felt like his protectors, siblings forced to be parents by circumstance; but Touya feels like his brother, the one he can fight and steal food from; the one who holds a toy up above head where Shouto can’t reach—even though he’s much, much taller than his older brother now. 

Touya scoffs, smirking, “Just saying what you think, little brother.”

.

.

.

All Shouto hears is a thump. 

A succession of them, in a steady three-part beat. 

The golf ball in front of him sits on an even plot of vibrant green, its dents and grooves emphasized by the sunlight of the early morning—there’s pressure, a thump; he needs to beat Touya in this hole to tie overall. Another thump; you’re watching him play. 

He analyzes all conditions, feels the heat on his back seep through the fabric of his white golf shirt. He breathes in and prepares to swing. 

Today is the visit to the estate. 

The agenda starts with an early game of golf, followed by brunch at the gardens and wine tasting in the early to late afternoon. It’s a beautiful day, and Shouto should be focusing on winning this game, but it’s distracting when you’re all he’s really thought about since the start of this round. 

—you, in your perfectly fitted white golf shirt and its complementary skirt; you, sitting with his mom at the back of the golf cart, smiling and laughing as if you aren’t the slightest bit aware of how much you brighten a space when you look like that. You, with your head whipping right in his direction when you hear the loud ‘swauck!’ that the impact of his club makes with the ball—your eyes excited and hopeful. 

Shouto misses the hole, and Touya snickers from the side. 

The thumbs up you give him is a soothing balm to his miss.

Shouto readjusts his cap as they walk closer to the hole, tucking in the strands of hair clinging to his forehead. He glances back at you and lingers, interrupted only by—

“Pretty thing, your assistant,” Touya teases, nudging his head towards your direction, “Cute skirt and all.” 

“Stop.” Shouto stares, impassive and unamused. His eyebrow twitches before he turns, walking away. 

From afar, he can hear Touya’s chuckle, breathy from the movement of fixing his arm sleeve. Shouto only pays attention to preparing his putter.  

He knows this is just how his older brother is. 

Since the start of this round, Touya’s managed to lead by a few strokes, with Shouto falling behind in every hole. It’s frustrating and annoying, aggravated even more by Touya’s teasing and the fact that Shouto has played the sport for far longer than Touya has.

It doesn’t help that he ends up missing again, with Touya managing to make the put afterwards. 

Shouto sighs, clenching his jaw. 

“You know,” Touya eyes him as they walk to the next hole, “staring’s not gonna get you anywhere.” 

“I’m not staring,” Shouto retorts immediately. The expanse of greenery ahead of him is taunting, an endless plot of land that feels like it’s watching.  

Touya scoffs, “Sure.” 

The golf course in the estate is landscaped with luscious trees, vibrant in the brightness of summer. Flowers bloom along the perimeter, yellows and reds carving out this specific section of the estate. You and his mom follow closely behind, riding the cart at a slow and steady pace. 

Just a few meters down, the little red flag for the next hole comes into view, moving with the breeze. 

“If you don’t plan on acting on it, you should let me know.” Touya mentions it a little too casually. 

Another thump. 

It’s a joke. Obviously. Something only meant to rile him up—it’s how Touya is. 

But it still makes him feel just a tad bit uneasy; it makes him feel a little bit like it did when they were kids. 

Before Touya disappeared, they used to sneak into the garden on winter nights. Shouto must have been no older than five and learning how to manage his quirk properly. 

They used to play a game: The Twigfire Race, Touya called it—a competition on who can form the longest and fastest fire trail using a bunch of twigs. 

Touya would always win, his long legs and lanky arms gathering more sticks than Shouto ever could at that age. His flames burned a deep azure blue, eating through the twigs much faster than Shouto’s flames did. Then, he’d press onto the pads of his burnt fingertips, teasing Shouto in some twisted attempt at motivating his little brother to do better. 

Touya would always win, but not without getting a word in. Not without leaving Shouto with a lesson or two about it. 

“I said, stop.” Shouto warns him, voice stern as he turns slightly to catch his brother's eyes. 

“Damn. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Touya raises a hand in mock surrender, smirking, “I can just do it without asking you.” 

Shouto stops walking, fists clenched tightly around his golf club. 

“That’s not funny.” 

“Oh, I’m not joking,” Touya taunts, holding back his laugh.

The stare Shouto gives him turns icy, glare intensifying as he inches closer towards his big brother. Touya doesn’t move, the stare-off lasting long enough for you to notice the confrontation. 

From his periphery, Shouto can see you looking at them in confusion. 

“Or am I?” Touya snickers right before he turns away, walking straight towards the next hole. 

Shouto watches him walk away, each thump matching the footsteps his brother makes. To the side, the cart slows to a halt and you get off, standing up as if to gain a better view of what just happened. 

You lock eyes with Shouto and he musters a small smile, raising a hand as if to say ‘everything’s fine.’ 

“Losers lose ‘cause they don’t get shit done, Shouto!” Touya calls from a few steps ahead. 

Shouto stares at his brother’s back; it’s just how Touya used to say when they were kids—

“You just have to go for it!” 

He takes a step. 

.

.

.

Touya wins the round, with Shouto losing by only a few strokes. 

Rei hugs them both, Touya’s slight reluctance evident in the way his arms stay glued to his side as she wraps hers around the both of them. 

Shouto brings one hand up, resting it against her back; from his line of sight, he spots you smiling fondly, giving him another thumbs up when your eyes meet. 

.

.

.

The estate’s staff escorts everyone to their respective rooms, allowing some time to change into clothes more suited for the late morning brunch. 

When Shouto and Touya finish, they make their way to the greenhouse, a glass dome teeming with life. It’s art in bloom—chrysanthemums, hydrangeas, sunflowers, and camellias all in varying colors of pink, red, purple, and yellow. Under a small bridge is a pond, alive with koi fish swimming underneath pads of water lilies, and right up above, where the sunlight streams in, are baskets of japanese roses, hanging in bright, fuschia clusters. 

He walks atop the bridge, hands stuffed inside his linen pants—a pair that matches the linen shirt you gifted him birthdays ago. What surrounds him is beautiful; perhaps the most heavenly place he’s been to. 

A morning of golf under the sun, nature in florescence. A (relatively) peaceful morning. 

And you—

The moment Shouto spots you, the scenery on your backdrop fades into muddled hues. You and Rei enter the greenhouse side-by-side, with his mother wearing an all-white ensemble: a cardigan with a long, flowy skirt. 

And you—

—you walk in wearing a pale yellow sundress, its hem hitting just above your knees. There are dainty flowers dotted all over it, but nothing too loud; the straps sink into a v-neck with bust details, flowing down into an a-line skirt. It’s perfectly understated, only emphasizing the focus on how radiant you look in it. 

He can’t stop staring. 

Touya snorts as he passes him. 

This day, this sight, is going to stay in his memory for a long, long while, he thinks. 

From up ahead, he can hear his mom call for Touya, dragging him around to ask which blooms would look best for the garden at home. And when he snaps out of the daze you’ve put him in, you appear right beside him, asking if he’s okay. 

“Yes,” he answers promptly, unsure of what to say next. His eyes flit to the baskets of japanese roses hanging above you, then to the view peeking from outside. “Do you want to look around before we eat?”

You nod. 

The depth of the greenhouse is deceiving upon first glance, with Touya and Rei now out of sight as you explore the area. You walk close enough to be side-by-side but still stay a step behind like you typically do, pausing every now and then to take pictures of the flowers around you. 

“You seem more relaxed,” he points out, pushing up the sleeves of his button-up. 

You turn to him from the chrysanthemums you’re snapping, a little flustered at his comment. 

(And at him, mostly. You don’t know how anyone can look this good in a simple linen set. Nature favors Todoroki Shouto, and it shows in moments like now, with sunlight hitting his face at just the right angle that it paints stardust on the tips of his eyelashes.) 

“It’s good,” he quickly follows-up, fluffing through his bangs, “I did mention this wasn’t for work.” 

(You feel warm at the reminder.

“It’s nice to see you with some down time too,” you return the sentiment, uncomfortable with the attention on you.

Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress.)

“Did something happen earlier?” you put your phone down, continuing to walk. “At the course. Things looked pretty tense.” 

Shouto hums, considers his next words. He takes a few more steps before answering, “Touya is a dick.” 

A laugh escapes you, and you cover your mouth quickly as you mumble an apology. Shouto knows it’s because it’s completely out of character for him to be so vulgar and insulting when it comes to his siblings.

“Was he sabotaging you?” 

“...Something like that.” he responds. 

“That’s okay,” you scrunch your nose, peering up at him, “You haven’t had much time to play lately.” 

And Shouto wonders if he’s just that easy to console, or if it’s a specific comfort that only comes from you. You make it so easy for him to feel better about all the little and big things—whether it’s news articles headlining him as a PR nightmare, or near-losses on missions gone wrong. 

Not a lot of things get to Shouto, but when they do, you somehow always know how to handle it. 

You continue to stroll around the greenhouse, looking closely at the steel bars holding up the glass arches. From a few steps ahead, Shouto can hear your mumbles—something about measurements and the logistics of turning the rooftop of the agency into a smaller version of this greenhouse.  

“You and mom looked like you were enjoying yourselves earlier,” he mentions offhandedly, hands clasped around his back. 

It’s something he’s noticed for a while—his mother seems to relax more around you, laughing and smiling in most of your conversations. He gets it; you have that effect on everyone around you, the warmth you exude a welcome invitation to be opened up to. 

(You eye him from the side knowingly; Todoroki Shouto is nothing but a closet snoop.) 

“We were talking about plant stuff,” you smile, “and how she’s happy you and Touya finally got to play together. You should’ve seen how red her hands were from clapping for the both of you.” 

He chuckles softly, matching your steps in comfortable silence. 

It’s at a different section of the greenhouse that he pauses, giving you time to admire the shrubs of hydrangeas blooming around you.

Touya’s words come back to him. 

He wonders if he should say it, if he should ask—

“Don’t move,” you tell him, raising your phone to eye-level.

Shouto stares at you, hands in his pockets as he watches you tap on your phone.

“Look to the side,” you instruct him again, and he follows, albeit a little confused. 

When he turns to face you again, the smile on your face is beaming, glowing as you turn your phone to show him the photos you managed to take. 

“The lighting was nice. See!” 

And when you point to the way sunlight streaks highlights onto the redness of his hair, down to the slope of his nose and the width of shoulders, he can’t help but agree. 

Now, he wonders—

“Do you want a photo with the flowers?” Shouto asks, because it makes no sense that you deem him worthy to be pictured in perfect lighting when there’s you, looking like you do—the walking subject to the backdrop of greenery behind you. 

Your eyes widen, a stuttered “O-Oh,” falling from your lips. You tug at your skirt again, fiddling with the soft fabric until your eyes nervously meet his. “I don’t really need—”

“The lighting is nice here, too.”

“Oh,” you respond, a hint of diffidence as you flash a small, hesitant smile, “Okay.” 

As Shouto angles himself to take your photo, he notices you turn restless, the smile on your face never quite reaching your eyes and your fingers constantly twirling the fabric of your dress. 

He puts down his phone, tilting his head. 

“Are insects biting you?”

(Your brows shoot up, embarrassed by how he’s noticed. 

You shake your head in response, providing no other explanation besides “Sorry.” 

He continues to stare, as if waiting for you to continue. You know there’s no point hiding the real reason you feel so nervous when he’s already noticed this much.  

“I think I might be underdressed,” you admit, smiling sheepishly as you clasp your fingers in front of you, “This entire place is gorgeous.”

The estate screams high-class; apart from the golf course and the greenhouse, the area also boasts its own private lake glistening across a large green field. It feels a little too good to be true—a paradise you find yourself out of place in. 

But—)

Shouto looks at you, really looks at you—at the way your dress hits right above your knees at the perfect length, at how your collarbones peek through its dainty v-neck cut. Its pale yellow makes you look like summer, radiating in light, and he thinks he hasn’t seen anything more beautiful, really; anything more fitting—for this occasion, for this venue, for this day. 

For you. 

The words have been lodged at his throat since he first saw you step in, and now they’re being pushed out, coaxed slowly by the honesty beating thunderously in his chest. 

He thinks about his mom, how she speaks of beauty whenever and wherever she finds it, with nothing stopping her speech and—

There’s a hum, a thoughtful vibration priming his throat as he continues to stare. 

“I think you’re dressed just right,” is what he manages to get out. 

A thump. 

It’s more than that, though, he knows. 

If this is his chance, if this is ‘next time’ from his attempt at the gala—

He blinks, and you only get prettier. 

“You look beautiful.” he confesses, the sentence overflowing with honesty.

(And when he says your name unlike any way he’s said it before, you feel your chest expand, terrified that it might explode.

Shouto is blunt and honest to a fault; and that honesty, you’ve realized, also happens to be his most cunning trait—a quality that's endeared you over the years now rendering you into a stuttering, fumbling mess like never before. 

“T-Thank you.” you straighten your dress, “You—”)

Shouto’s phone vibrates in his palm, a call from Touya breaking him out of your conversation. He bows his head slightly to excuse himself and you nod in acknowledgment. 

“Brunch is served,” he relays, pocketing his phone soon after he hangs up.

(Then, with his hand inside his pocket, he bends his arm deeper, creating a wider loop as if to offer it for you to hang onto—the same way he did during the gala.

And just like you did then, you take it.)

.

.

.

Brunch was served at the estate’s main patio, a circular table made of light wood adorned with dainty white tableware and muted green linen. In the middle was a centerpiece, an assortment of fresh flowers from the greenhouse coming together for a pop of color against the main neutral color scheme. 

The food was divine, a lovely selection of seasonal salads and warm breads, along with eggs cooked in every way possible. Newly harvested fruits were served before and after the meal, a kind of appetizer-dessert to complement the main piece—a large slab of freshly caught salmon. 

Now, you all gather on the second floor of the estate’s main building, right at the balcony overlooking the greenhouse and the field—a perfect view for wine tasting.

Shouto doesn’t care much for alcohol, all technicalities going past his head as the sommelier explains notes and wine pairings.

He can’t taste much of the difference, if he’s being honest. 

In the sommelier’s hand is a bottle of red wine; he describes all of the technical parts of it before finishing off with the fact that it’s ‘beautifully balanced’, something that causes Touya to snort at the side. 

Shouto looks, raising an eyebrow curiously. 

Touya leans in closer to his little brother, swirling the wine in his glass as he lowers his voice mockingly, “‘You look beautiful’.”

The expression on Shouto’s face remains unreadable, his brain processing the fact that his brother must have overheard his conversation with you earlier. It’s while Touya begins to gulp down his glass that Shouto steps on his foot—a sharp pressure stomped onto freshly cleaned loafers. 

“Fuckin–” Touya hisses, cursing under his breath as he pulls his foot away. 

The edges of Shouto’s lips curl up as he turns back to his glass of wine, watching from across the table as his mom smiles fondly at something you must have said. 

(You still feel flustered, a little fuzzy. You’re unsure whether the heat emanating off your cheeks is from the wine or the lingering echoes of his compliment earlier.

From across the table, you lock eyes with Shouto, gray and blue sitting strikingly atop flushed cheeks. You look away quickly—a knee-jerk reaction of bashfulness. He doesn’t hold his liquor well, a fact you’ve known for many, many years, so you can’t tell for sure whether he’s turned red from the wine, or from the same thing you’re feeling, too.)

III. LET ME TELL YOU (HONESTLY)

“If y’don’t do shit first, some other loser will.”

“Losers lose ‘cause they don’t get shit done…”

“...just be honest about it when the time comes.”

The streets are calm at this time of night, with cars occasionally passing by and the chimes of shop doors tinkling as they open and shut. Not a lot of people stay up late in this part of the neighborhood, but Shouto still hears them—all the jumbled voices of Bakugo and his brothers merging in his mind. 

He steps onto concrete, footfalls muffled by the cushion of his boots—a new update on his costume, one you suggested after a stealth mission mishap caused by the drag of his heel. 

Tonight is his scheduled patrol—a route he knows like the back of his hand, memorized from the many years he’s been assigned to it. The streetlamps ahead cast a dim glow down the road; an atmosphere he would otherwise find unsettling if not for the fact that it’s provided him odd comfort in times he’s needed it the most. 

Tonight, his mind ruminates on you. 

Lately, his interactions with you have been… different—shy glances and awkward slip-ups; the intentional way he’s been expressing himself more around you. 

He can’t tell what you think of it yet. 

Yet, you still sit with him in comfortable silence on the nights that you both work late, and you still bring in fresh flowers for his desk every few days. He’s sure that when he gets back to the agency after his shift, you’ll still be there, claiming to finish a report when you both know it’s just an excuse to make sure that he finished patrol safely.

You still care for him in the same way. 

And now that he’s thinking more about it, maybe it’s been those little things all along—the same way you’ve been treating him all these years shifting into something deeper and more significant, beating its way out of his chest. 

You know Shouto better than anyone—so much so that his family asks you for lists of gift ideas because they don’t have the slightest clue what else to get him. He’s found himself seeking your opinion on things more and more over the years, and if he’s being honest, a big chunk of his decisions are now partly influenced by what you think of them first. 

Across the street, a couple sways to the beat of the jazz bar they step out of, their hands intertwined and smiles giddy with adoration and love. He looks away quickly before they catch him staring. 

There are things Shouto’s discovered that he likes seeing you do—like how you shift your feet when you feel flustered at something he says, or when you tap your index finger against whatever surface it’s on when you’re deep in thought. Your eyes widen when he says things you don’t expect him to, and something about that intrigues him.

He thinks you look cute. 

He wonders if you know that about yourself; and if you don’t, a part of him is saying that he should be the one to tell you.  

.

.

.

You and Shouto attend only one day of teambuilding. 

The company trip spans an entire two weeks, with each department coming in a few days at a time. You both would stay if you could, but Shouto’s schedule doesn’t allow him to be gone for more than a day.

It’s always been unspoken: wherever Shouto goes, you go too. 

This day of the teambuilding is assigned for the managers and those under Shouto’s direct reporting team. 

The estate is still as beautiful as the last time you both visited, summer shining atop the glistening surface of the lake across the green field. Company trips aren’t typically this grand, but this is also the first time in years that Shouto’s had free time to drop by. 

(It’s a bit funny, you think, watching him struggle to reach the finish line in a three-legged race paired with his finance director. Shouto is typically awkward in most team activities, but you find it endearing, watching him put full effort into things he normally doesn’t do.) 

By mid-afternoon, the day’s activities have consisted of tank rolls, marble balancing, and a classic game of pass-the-message (which, you’ve learned, Shouto is absolute garbage at). And for the final game of the day, the both of you are paired for a duo tug of war against his PR manager and support engineer. 

The afternoon heat burns the back of Shouto’s neck, his cap providing little to no protection for that area of his skin. He stands behind you, rope twisted firmly in his grasp as he prepares to pull. You mimic his stance, bracing yourself with your knees bent as you grip the rope tightly. 

Prior to the game, you were all given three minutes to discuss strategies. 

And so now, Shouto counts, low and steady, “One.” 

“Get set,” the facilitator for this activity announces. 

“Two.” 

You take a deep breath. 

“Go!” 

“Three.”

You both pull, holding your ground for a few seconds. He can see your knuckles turning white from where he’s standing, and when he glances at the other team, they’ve begun to lean back, anchoring their bodies to the ground before pulling away slowly. 

Shouto digs his feet into the earth, the rope’s rough fibers sticking to the calluses on his hands. It doesn’t take long before you both slip forward, being dragged by the other team and eventually pulled into your loss. 

You turn back to him immediately, apologetic as you rub your palms, “Sorry!”

(Before the game even began, you already knew whoever your partner was would be carrying most of the work. And you feel a little bad because your loss does make a bit of sense, you think. 

Though Shouto is strong, you know he’s developed his agility far more than his strength. It doesn’t help that his support engineer lifts bulks of synthetic thermal cloth everyday. 

The both of you didn’t stand a chance, really.) 

But Shouto waves it off, smiling softly. 

“Are you okay?” he looks down at your hands. Your skin is an angry flaming red all over your palms, but what causes him to frown are the small cuts resting at the base of your fingers. 

“Yup, all g–” you attempt to hide it, but Shouto’s reflexes are quick, and he catches your wrist the moment you pull away. 

It’s an instinctive reaction when he looks over it once, pressing his thumb to the center of your palm to get a better look. He reaches for his utility belt out of habit, patting the area above his hip only to feel nothing but the smooth cotton of his shirt.

Right, he remembers, he isn’t wearing his gear today.  

He drops his arms, looking around the field for a first-aid kit nearby. 

(A small chuckle escapes you, endeared, and Shouto looks up at the sound. His eyes meet yours briefly before he jogs all the way to retrieve the red box by the tree. 

It’s just a friction burn; a few small cuts from the rough material of the rope, at most. 

You don’t need first-aid. But—) 

When Shouto comes back, he ushers you to the side, grabbing a few cotton buds and antiseptic ointment from the box. His brain works on autopilot, barely thinking as he tends to your injury.

(You don’t need first-aid. But—) 

He peels the bandaid for you and gently places it on top of your wounds—a yellow checkered pattern decorating your skin. 

(You don’t need first aid. But you kind of get it, you think. It’s the same instinctive reaction you have when he gets papercuts. There’s no need for you to mend them with your quirk, but it’s an inexplicable feeling that makes you feel uneasy at the idea of him getting injured off the field.

A whistle is blown to call everyone back to huddle. 

“Better?” Shouto stares at you from under his cap, readjusting it as red and white strands touch the tips of his eyelashes. 

(He looks unfairly pretty like this. How can he even expect you to answer?

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, swallowing your breath. 

When Shouto walks towards everyone else, you follow, pressing your thumb onto your palm.) 

.

.

.

Shouto drops by the greenhouse at the end of the day. 

The sky above the glass dome ceiling is warmed by orange and pink hues. At sunset, the greenhouse looks ethereal, an almost otherworldly escape. The flowers haven’t changed much from his last visit here, but they seem to have blossomed further now that time has passed. 

He walks past the familiar cluster of chrysanthemums and spots a patch of white flowers he doesn’t recall from last time—a wooden placard with the name ‘iris’ sticks out from the soil. His knees bend to crouch low, fingers grazing over the softness of its petals. 

Earlier today, the estate so kindly offered to let him bring home flowers of his choice, and this bunch in front of him calls out to him, a purity and warmth that reminds him of his mom. 

The nippers in his hand feel clunky, a heavy-duty version of the ones he uses when he helps with gardening at home; but he cuts the stems gently, careful to remember all he’s been taught. 

When he thinks he’s gotten enough, he continues to stroll around the greenhouse, the wicker basket in his hand half-filled with pure, white irises. 

A little further down the path, he passes by the hydrangea bushes, his steps slowing as fragmented pieces of that memory with you replay in slow motion. 

“The lighting was nice. See!” 

“You look beautiful,” he confesses, the sentence overflowing with honesty.

And he decides—

He should get you flowers too. 

Your desk always seems to have some, and you’re consistently on top of keeping fresh flowers around the agency—on his desk specifically. 

It’s only right.

His mom always tells him that flowers can never lie; they bloom where they are loved and speak from the heart when words are not enough—it’s why she loves them so much.

And, maybe she has a point, because the pink hydrangeas look pretty; they remind him of you, especially.

On his way here, the white camellias spoke to him too. Maybe he’ll get them both for you. 

He crouches low again, nipping the hydrangea stems before backtracking to collect a few camellias. By the time he finishes, his wicker basket is filled to the brim, an assortment of pink and white threatening to spill from its edges. The leaves of the irises stick out, poking at his wrist and making the skin itch.

You find him that way—struggling to wrangle in the abundance of blooms into his basket.

“I think you need another basket,” you chuckle, walking towards him. 

There’s something about you and this hour; how it feels like you fit right in this moment, at the peak of sunset, blooming the same way the flowers do. 

Your smile is radiant against the warmth of diffused sunlight, and though he’s seen you in this same exact slacks-and-blouse combination before, the way he sees you now has shifted. 

You look different, but in all the ways he can’t visibly point out. 

He blinks, and that thump beats once more. 

His arm moves before he can comprehend it, the bunch of camellias and hydrangeas outstretched towards you.

Your eyes widen in surprise, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you tilt your head slightly, your hand reaching out for it reluctantly. 

“Would you want me to have this wrapped?” 

(The flowers feel lush in your palm, and you can’t help but wonder who he intends to give them to. There are irises in his basket too, left untouched for reasons you’re not sure you’d like to know. 

Your grip on the stems tighten. 

The camellias stare back at you, an immaculate white, with the pink hydrangeas adding a delicate softness to them. It’s a pretty combination, and you can’t help but think that whoever they’re intended for should feel—)

“It’s for you.”

You lock eyes when you look up. There’s a weight to Shouto’s gaze that intends to get his message across, the words still barely forming on his tongue. 

“Oh,” is the only thing you manage to say.  

(—surprised; grateful; confused; the emotions swirl inside of you. The shock is apparent on your face, your eyes widening at his admission. Confusion presents itself in the tilt of your head as you stumble over how to express your gratitude.

“It’s not…” you hesitate, diverting your gaze to anything else but that piercing pair of gray-and-blue. Your mind is drawing up a blank, figuring out what reason he has for giving them to you.)

“There’s no occasion…?”

It comes out as half a question and half something else, your uncertainty marked by the semi-lilt at the end. 

Shouto blinks. 

He wonders if he should tell you now, if he should just confess that he’s been feeling differently about you these days.

You shift your feet, your thumbs rubbing against the flowers’ leaves. 

The thump persists in his chest, knocking at the base of his throat—

Thump.

He takes a deep breath.

Thump.

—but even with its persistence, the words still struggle to come out.

Thump.

Maybe not now; it’s not the right time. 

But he says something else, an admission much easier that still holds just as much truth.

“No occasion.” 

.

.

.

Shouto knows your Mondays. 

You switch out the flowers on his desk for a different arrangement of blooms every week. Then, you give him a run-down of his schedule, going over important announcements and upcoming events. 

The mornings go by quickly, with you constantly moving around your desk. Shouto can’t tell what you’re doing exactly, but you’re always working on something whenever he sneaks a peek through the single glass panel cut-out from your shared wall. 

Lunch is a wildcard. On some days, you bring your own; on others, you grab a bite down in the cafeteria. Your routine is largely dependent on how busy you anticipate work to be that day, and though it varies from time-to-time, you never forget to knock on his door—a two-part thump that takes him out of his own little work bubble. 

He almost looks forward to it now, the way your head peeps in from behind his office doors. You call out his name softly, only continuing to speak when he looks up from whatever file he’s working on. 

Shouto knows your Mondays. 

You spend the afternoons all over the place, much like he does; while he roams the city, you roam the agency, attending meetings and checking in on different departments. He knows because when he comes back by the end of the day, you almost always have a new set of updates prepared on your desk for the next morning. 

He also knows that Mondays are when you often work overtime, preferring to get a bulk of any urgent matters completed and out of the way.

The back door of his office clicks shut as he walks into the room, his rubber boots leaving no trace that he’s arrived from how quietly his footsteps hit the floor. He unbuckles his utility belt, one hand automatically reaching for its lock; it’s a habit, the ‘clack’ that sounds from it a satisfying marker he looks forward to at the end of every patrol. 

In the corner of his office is a private restroom that he slips into. He quickly changes out of his hero suit and into a pair of sweatpants, throwing on one of his many favorite white shirts—his go-to outfit on the days he works late. 

There are still some reports he has to look over tonight, but nothing too time-consuming. 

It’s really you he’s staying behind for. 

He glances at you through the glass panel of his wall, your face dimly lit by your computer screen. Your eyebrows are scrunched, eyes squinting in pure focus. 

It never feels right for him to leave when you haven’t left either. 

He settles into his seat, finger tapping on his desk as he contemplates whether or not he should offer you his help. 

You always decline when he does; he can already hear your response. But there are stacks of folders on your desk right now and he’s predicting that it’ll take at least a few more hours before you get through all of them.

He taps his foot, staring at the report in front of him. 

A thump. 

The wheels of his chair roll back, leather squeaking as he stands up. 

As soon as he exits his office, you look up, surprised. 

“You’re back!” 

He nods, walking closer to your desk. “It’s 8:00 p.m.”

You glance at the top of your screen, a sheepish smile forming on your face, “Right.” 

(This is his way of telling you it’s late, you’re well aware.)

He looks around your desk, folders and stationery all neatly organized and labeled. You keep a few touches of your personality around your space, with personalized pens and notepads gathered in one corner. 

They’re all things he’s seen before, but what makes him do a double-take is the vase sitting in the corner, obscured by your computer screen. 

Sitting inside it is the arrangement of flowers he gave you back at the teambuilding, the pink hydrangeas still as good as new next to the white camellias. It’s been a little over a week since, and you always change the arrangement on your desk as frequently as you change his. 

So for you to keep it for this long—

“And how may I help you?” you ask jokingly, biting down your smile. 

His eyes flit over to you, your gaze set on your screen as you continue to type.

(It’s hard to focus on the documents in front of you when he looks at you like that. Shouto’s stare has always been unnerving, but it feels especially scrutinizing when he merely stands, watching without a word.)

“You have a lot of work left,” he gestures towards the stack of folders on your desk. 

(Your eyes glance over the pile quickly as you mumble, “Yeah.” 

A few seconds of silence pass before what he really means starts to sink in. 

It’s not often that Shouto finishes work before you—at least, to your knowledge. You still see him inside his office when you pack your things, ready to leave. 

So, this is out of the ordinary. 

And if he’s standing in front of your desk, hinting at how much longer you’ll be staying at work. Then, it can only mean—

“A-are you waiting for me to go?” you move to stand, guilty. “Don’t worry about it, I can lock up.”)

Shouto furrows his brows, tilting his head slightly. 

That’s never been a thing; he’s always gone home last, and has always waited for you when you have work left to do. He makes sure of it every time, watching carefully for your computer light to turn off. 

But he won’t tell you that; letting you know would mean admitting that he’s been doing it for years. 

He places his palm on the top folder. 

“What else do you have to do?” 

You stay quiet for a few seconds before reluctantly listing it all—reports, meeting summaries, and a few emails you plan to schedule for tomorrow morning. His frown deepens as your list only grows, immediately cutting yourself off the second you notice your ramblings. 

“… but if you’re waiting, I can bring these home and—”

“What can I do to help?” he interjects, stopping you just before you shut down your computer. 

(You can only stare when proceeds to take a seat in front of you, the legs of your guest chair dragging against the floor as he pulls it closer. 

It hits you a bit like déjà vu, this moment, how it feels just like early days back in that rented studio unit; back when you could count the number of people comprising his team on one hand. 

Back then, your desks were just a few steps away from each other, an overflow of paperwork inevitably spilling into each other’s spaces. Because all of the files were stored in your drawers, it was more convenient for Shouto to sit himself across your desk, splitting the work and going over them one at a time. 

Things are different now that the agency’s grown—you have a bigger space, and the work isn’t nearly as packed as it used to be; but some days still end up a little bit more hectic than others. Like today.

“There’s no need,” you reach for the stack under his palm, “I can finish this at—”

“We can finish faster if we do this together.”

That promptly shuts you up. 

Shouto is blunt to a fault, unafraid of saying things as they are; his voice carries an unbothered cadence no matter who it is he’s talking to. 

You figure, there’s no point arguing with him when he’s right, after all.) 

Shouto begins going over a few of the reports that you’ve tagged red and yellow, listening intently as you instruct him on which parts to focus on. In exchange, you make space for him on your desk, setting aside some of the folders you had brought out earlier.

It’s a good hour into working before Shouto notices you easing up slightly, your shoulders more relaxed in comparison to how bunched up they were earlier.

He knows you’ve been glancing at him occasionally, your head turning every now and then to check on how he’s doing—a failed attempt at subtlety. 

“Are you almost done?” he asks, head down as he slips another completed file into its folder. The stack beside him is growing, his ‘done’ pile nearly as tall as the unfinished one. 

(You turn to him, attention shifting to the split of red and white hair down the center of his head, “Yeah, I just—”

Your words trail off, eyes squinting as you move closer to where he’s hunched over. 

Right on the shoulder of his shirt is a small tear, big enough to touch the edges of its collar but small enough that you’d only have to be up close to be able to notice. 

You assess the tear intently, looking carefully for any cuts underneath and thankfully find none.

But—

He notices you’ve gone quiet and looks up, the sudden movement catching you off guard. You make a sound, something in-between a squeak and an ‘oops.’ 

“Sorry, I just,” you point, “your shirt’s ripped.” 

His eyes follow the direction of your finger, finding the small tear running horizontally along the fabric of hjs shirt. 

“I can fix it,” you offer, the wheels of your chair rolling to land you directly across him. 

It’s one of his favorite shirts.)

He barely thinks when his body acts on its own, pressing itself closer to your desk as you slightly bend over for better reach. 

You don’t have to patch up his shirt, especially something so small. He has plenty of the same ones in his closet; and if it comes to it, he wouldn’t mind buying a new one. You really don’t have to patch up his shirt, because he wouldn’t have even noticed had you not mentioned it. 

But it’s that kind of tender care and attention to detail that you’ve had for him since you started working together that’s always drawn him in. 

Shouto has lived most of his life with the means to live comfortably, but since starting his own agency, he’s learned the value of maximizing resources—and it’s all because of you.

A thump. 

The moment your fingers touch his shoulder, he hears nothing but that continuous three-beat thump. Your quirk tingles when it touches skin, but you aren’t mending that—you’re fixing his shirt, separate from your skin, and yet, he still feels the little zaps go off inside of him. 

A thump. 

Up close, the strands of your hair tickle his cheek. 

A thump. 

The fabric of his shirt mends itself slowly, and it only makes him think of everything else—of the leather chair you helped fix, painstakingly going through each and every crack to bring it back to near-new condition. He thinks about every cut and scrape you’ve helped heal without having to, about every time you’ve insisted when he’d shrug it off as nothing. 

From you, he’s learned that things can be fixed without having to change them whole. 

It’s how he’s (you’ve) managed to keep the agency running; it’s why you get along so well with him and the rest of his family. 

And these feelings in his chest are pounding, built up over time to tip over and transform into something more than just an excellent work dynamic. At this point, it’s become companionship, a presence he seeks out a little bit more than friendship. 

You know him better than anyone else does. 

The flowers he gave you are still on your desk. 

So, he says your name, voice low and tender by your ear. 

You freeze, holding your breath. 

Another thump.

His honesty spills outs—

“I like you.” 

A three-beat thump. 

(You don’t believe it at first, the urge to ask him again right at the tip of your tongue. But, he pulls away, unfinished, and looks you in the eye to continue. 

“But it feels more than a crush, I think.” He presses his fingers against the table, grounding himself, “Natsuo told me it was a crush, and he told me to think about it, so I did.” 

Shouto is a man of sufficient words; not too few, not too plenty. But when he gets nervous and a little excited, he starts rambling, and—

“Bakugo told me his mom thought we were dating, and even though I said that wasn’t the case, I almost didn’t want to deny it. Touya has been a dick about it, but he makes good points, so I also owe it to him.”

(The shock on your face shifts into fondness. You can’t see the point of what he’s saying yet, but it’s cute—one of the many things that make him endearing.) 

He pauses, watching your expression shift into curiosity. 

“It started with this thumping,” he places a hand over his chest. “It used to only come sometimes, but lately it’s been happening all the time.” 

Shouto keeps his gaze deadset on yours. He doesn’t say anything else, sentences just barely forming in his head to fully capture what he really means. His feet and palms stay firmly planted where they are, his only movement being the steady blinking of his eyes. 

(But it’s okay, because you can understand. 

If you’re being honest, the signs were all there. 

Nothing Shouto does can be subtle when you know him as well as you do. 

A smile breaks out on your face, the one you can barely contain around him. It’s a little teasing and shy but completely genuine from the way it softens your eyes. 

“We’ll have to come up with something for HR,” you try to contain your smile.)

And he isn’t worried at all. He knows you’ll both find a way, just like you always do.

additional material: moodboard + playlist

a/n: so much to say about this fic but i'll sum it up with saying this is my baby! and i hold it close to my heart for many reasons. writing this made me love their dynamic and i hope you did too! also maybe slightly unrealistic office/hr rules but 🤷‍♀️ he’s the boss he makes the rules 🤧

thank you notes: to @soumies for literally beta reading this. i owe this fic to you fr you are my lifesaver i love you. to @augustinewrites @scarabrat @stellamancer @arcvenes for helping me a ton with characterisations, dialogues, songs, inspo, everything!!! ily all!! it took a village to write this fic fr. (+ to my bf for sitting me down so he could explain the whole point system of golf for like 30 minutes LOL)

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[theygender]

Donation Drive for Palestine

Hi everyone! I just passed 10,000 followers. I want to do something to celebrate this moment, and after some consideration I've decided that the thing I would most like to do for this milestone is host a donation drive for Palestine

I will be donating 1¢ in support of Palestine for each of my followers and YOU get to decide where this money goes. At the time of this post that totals to $100.19 from 10,019 followers, but I will continue counting additional followers towards the goal until this poll ends

Here's how it works:

I'll be donating 1¢ for each of my followers. New followers will continue to be counted until either this poll ends or I can no longer afford it

You can vote in the poll below to decide where the money should be donated. I've selected 10 charities that are supporting Gaza and I'll be donating amounts to each of them based on my follower count and the percentage of votes they receive (ie. 10% of votes with the current total of $100.19 = $10.02 to that charity)

Once the poll ends, I'll make my donations and post an update with the final amounts donated to each charity

All of the charities are described and linked below the poll and I encourage people to make their own donations as well. If everyone who votes (and is able to donate) gives even $1 to the charity they vote for then it could add up quickly. Let's drive those donations!

Children Not Numbers: An organization providing immediate support and long-term rehabilitation for children in Gaza, as well as evacuating children to states equipped to manage their healthcare needs

Crips for eSIMs for Gaza: A fundraiser organized by the Disability Visibility Project which purchases eSIMs for Gaza to allow Palestinians to maintain contact with the outside world

Direct Aid Initiative & Encampment: An initiative organized by Operation Olive Branch to provide direct aid to families in Gaza and establish a family encampment which will house ~300 displaced individuals. (Operation Olive Branch also hosts a spreadsheet of verified fundraisers which spotlights different ones, found here)

Gaza Emergency Appeal: A fundraiser by the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian Refugees (UNRWA) which serves to provide families with lifesaving food and water and repair UNRWA shelters. (Also remember to click for Palestine)

Life for Gaza: A donation drive organized by the Municipality of Gaza to help them reinstate essential water services

Medical Aid for Palestinians: An organization that provides immediate medical aid to those in great need while also developing local capacity and skills to ensure the long-term development of the Palestinian healthcare system

Palestinian Children's Relief Fund: A humanitarian organization in Palestine providing urgent medical care and humanitarian aid to children in Gaza

Palestinian Red Crescent: A National Society in the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement which provides humanitarian assistance and health and social services to Palestinians

Revive Gaza's Farmlands: A project organized by the Arab Group for Protection of Nature which aims to rehabilitate Gaza’s agricultural sector and restore local food systems to combat famine, counter the blockade, and build food sovereignty

Vegetables, Food, and Water for Palestinian Families: A fundraiser organized by the volunteer group Ele Elna Elak and shared by Bisan which provides food, water, and other necessities to families in Gaza

[808airsoftbros]

Missing 411 (Female Idols)

Author: This special chapter is also posted on my wattpad and decided to post it here too to help revive this dead Tumblr account. Also if you want to see more check out the Masterlist.

Y/N's POV

It's been ten years since that stormy night... Where everything went to hell... Awakened something that was never supposed to be in this world. What is it? We will never truly know and perhaps it's for the best.

Now you all must be asking what I'm talking about. I don't know much since I'm a foreign government agency from America to help with the Korean National Police Agency.

All these accounts and stories are based on reports filed by the KNPA, witnesses, and survivors of their encounters with this... thing.

I cannot disclose everything as this case is classified and under investigation by the Republic of Korea National Military and the National Intelligence Service.

It all began ten years ago on August 19, 2019, when a massive typhoon struck the Korean peninsula turning Seoul into a rubble mess than ever in history.

Everything was in total devastation, small businesses, and homes were destroyed, and families pretty much lost everything so much so that even K-pop idols began lending a hand, and those who were on tour or elsewhere donated money.

I will start with the first case... The unsolved case of the disappearance of Jennie Kim and Jeon Jungkook...

~

Flashback

Date: August 21, 2019 Location: Seoul, South Korea

Jisoo's POV

It's been two days since the massive typhoon struck the city of Seoul, I was in the safety of the dorm when it struck and thankfully nothing was damaged or lost but the same cannot be said for the unlucky ones.

Some were caught in a bad time and the street vendor's property has been damaged beyond repair including those I always visit.

"I can't believe mother nature is capable of such devastation..." I muttered looking at the rubble of fallen trees, flipped cars, and broken street lamps.

"Well, that's nature for you, come on, those people need all the help they can get," Chaeyoung replied and I nodded.

Walking around the streets, determined to help those in need as much as possible, other idols have joined us in our efforts helping where they can, and offering assistance to the rescue operatives.

The streets were flooded in some areas, especially the underground parking lots, the sewer systems were overflowed and clogged causing the sewages to flood the streets.

Everyone worked hard to guide the survivors to shelter camps to tend to the wounded and sick. My arms and legs ached like hell but if it's for the people, I must keep going.

"Jake said this is all we can do for now until firefighters and Coast Guard crews clear up the debris in the heavily impacted parts, I'd say we take a break," I explained to the girls and they nodded.

As we sat down under the shelter camp, we saw BTS covered in mud and sweat approaching, they all looked equally exhausted and worn out.

"Ah, I see you boys managed to make it, I thought you all were on a tour," I greeted and Namjoon chuckled.

"Hey, this city is our home, we can't just simply watch by as the people suffer. We lend our hand wherever we can," Namjoon replied.

"Right, there are so many children lost from their parents, I heard some of them didn't make it out," Jennie mentioned and he sighed.

"Real shame, I pity those poor souls, nobody could've expected a typhoon like this, throughout my years, I have never seen anything like this," Jungkook commented.

As the boys joined us under the tent, Taehyung was kind enough to give us water to quench our thirst, and I couldn't feel more relief as I sipped down the water.

Suddenly, Jungkok and Jennie stood up but before they could walk away from the tent I stopped them.

"Hey, where are you two going?" I asked curiously.

"I overheard there are some cabins in the woods, possible someone could've been sheltering there during the storm and will see if we can help or not," Jungkook answered and I nodded.

"Alright, be safe out there," I warned them and they nodded.

"Don't worry Jichu, we're always careful~," Jennie assured and walked away with him.

Though I had a bad feeling about it, I shrugged it off as I didn't have much time to think about it as the fire chief called us over requesting our assistance with the water pumps.

In the next several hours as the sun was starting to set and dusk was approaching, however, Jennie and Jungkook had yet to return.

"Hey, you heard from Kookie any chance?" I asked Jin and he shrugged.

"No idea, no call on the radio or anything, I was about to ask you," Jin answered unsurely and I was growing concerned.

Deciding to investigate the cabins as a group, we went to their last known location which is the cabins in the woods, we kept our guard up for any wild animals that may loom in the area, and as we reached the cabins, I felt dread as the cabins were dead quiet.

Looking around, there was no sign of any wild animals or birds in the trees anywhere and the area wasn't as damaged as the rest of the forest.

"I don't like the looks of this..." Suga commented.

"Yeah, it's too quiet for my liking, I feel like something is gonna pounce on us at any second," Hoseok replied.

"Let's make this fast and find those two before it gets dark," Namjoon said and we agreed.

Immediately, we began searching the cabins and the surrounding nature but as time went on, we couldn't find a single trace of them anywhere or signs of life.

I was now growing even more worried as they somehow disappeared like they never existed... Until...

"Hey, I think I found something!" Lisa called out and we went up to her.

"What is it?" I asked.

Lisa showed us Jennie's phone and wallet along with Jungkook's wallet containing his bank cards and IDs inside one of the bedrooms in the cabin.

"Is there anything else?" I asked and she shook her head.

"Nope, not any sign of footprints or traces, it's like they vanished like a ghost," She sighed and looked at the time it was getting dark.

"Will report this to the police when we get back, for now, there's nothing more we can do for them until morning, it's too dangerous to search at night," Namjoon explained and I felt devastated.

"W-We can't just abandon them, they're like family to us," I begged and he shook his head.

"I understand how you feel, Jisoo, and I feel the same way for Kookie but will be no good to anyone if we're attacked by predators," He replied in a sympathetic tone.

Reluctantly agreeing, I felt shameful and guilty as I felt like I had to abandon Jennie as she could be seriously injured or God knows what I knew Namjoon was right but it was my fault for letting them go in the first place.

"I should've stopped them..." I muttered to myself as we left the cabins.

~

Present

Y/N's POV

Since then, the group went to the nearby police station which was still intact, and reported a missing person case, a search was later held the next morning but despite their best efforts, no traces were ever found besides their wallets and Jennie's phone.

We couldn't turn it on as the screen was cracked and it was damaged but we did manage to extract the data but found nothing out of the ordinary.

The search went on for some time until...

~

Date: August 30, 2019 Location: Seoul, South Korea

Y/N's POV

Arriving in Korea at the airport, I was greeted by one of the agents of the NIS and he drove me over to the police station in Seoul.

"So, I was told I would be briefed on this investigation, what do we have?" I asked.

"Well, two idols vanished without a trace just a week ago when they were helping clean up the city after the typhoon hit, they went up to the cabin area in the forest but never returned and the group decided to investigate themselves to find nothing but few of their belongings," The agent explained and I nodded writing them down in my notepad.

"I see, what about the search party? Any news?" I asked and he nodded.

"After several days of searching, we did find their remains... It's quite a grizzly and disturbing sight, to say the least, and it's hard to describe it so it's better if you look at them yourself," He answered.

The rest of the drive was silent as we went into Seoul giving me the chance to look around at the devastation the typhoon had caused and it was surreal than the pictures on the news.

Once we finally made it to the station, I walked through the backdoor leading downstairs to the evidence lab, and I was led into the forensics lab.

One of the experts bowed before leading me into the lab, laying on the operation table were the bodies of Jeon Jungkook and Jennie Kim and my eyes widened as it looked like their souls were sucked out of them.

They were skinny to the bone, there was no blood within them, and they looked almost skeletal making this the most disturbing case I've ever worked in.

"What the hell happened to them...?" I asked shocked at the sight.

"We're not sure, we ran all the tests in the book but found nothing out of the ordinary or pointers of how they died, no wounds, scratches, nothing, just their souls sucked out dry," The expert explained grimly.

~

Meanwhile...

Jisoo's POV

I couldn't sleep well ever since Jennie's disappearance, we always missed her and it didn't help that the police already found her dead body not far from the cabins along with Jungkook.

YG and BigHit sent condolences letters to their families and the funerals were held as soon as the rubbles were cleared from parts of the city.

Their remains were cremated to ashes with Jennie to be sent home to New Zealand in her hometown and Jungkook to the family cemetery.

"O comforting One, compassionate One be with us all when we suffer loss and ache with the pain of grieving. Give us a glimpse of the way it will be when love will never be taken away, when life itself will not be diminished when all that we hold most precious will live and remain with us forever. Amen." The priest said his prayer as the urn of the ashes of Jungkook was slowly lowered into the hole dug before his gravestone.

The funeral was small only consisting of myself, Lisa, and Chaeyoung, along with BTS and Twice who had just returned from their tour, and of course Jungkook's family.

To this day, I still feel guilty as I could've stopped this all from happening, now two idols were lost to the Heavens, and everyone grieved their deaths.

Jin who would always boast about being flirty and ladies man was now all silent, I can tell the loss of what he considered a brother deeply affected him.

"T-Thank you for coming, Jihyo, I didn't think you'd show up," I thanked her and she nodded.

"Hey, this is more important than our idol lives, I knew them both and they were quite exceptional and talented individuals, it's a shame they went out like this," Jihyo replied and I sighed.

"Are you okay?" She asked conerningly.

"No, not really, I could've prevented this from happening, Jennie and Jungkook would still be alive if I hadn't stopped them from going to the woods alone... I'm such an idiot..." I grimly answered and shed a tear as the guilt became too much to bear.

Instead of an angry reaction, as I expected, Jihyo gave me a sympathetic look and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"It's not your fault, my dear, none of us expected anything like this would happen," She assured and I sighed.

"Speaking of which, they never disclosed their cause of death nobody knows what happened to them, they found no wounds or indication of how they died considering they were young and healthy at the time," I mentioned.

"Well, all we can do is leave it to the authorities to handle this, I am confident they will find a trail eventually and we can soon get to the bottom of this and hope Jennie and Jungkook will be the last victims of this mess," She explained and I nodded knowing she was right.

After the funeral was finished, we all left for our vehicles, our driver picked us up and drove us back to the YG building as we needed to discuss some things about our upcoming comeback.

We headed to the top floor of the building where YG's office was located and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" He called out and we opened the door.

"Please have a seat you three, we have urgent matters to discuss," He instructed and we sat down in front of him and he sighed.

"As you all may know, Jennie was found dead, now not only has this heavily saddened the Blinks and fans around the world, but it also hurts our business as our comeback is scheduled to release soon, and without Jennie to finish her lines, we might have to cancel it and start from scratch without her or one of you will have to take her place," He explained.

"Sir, are you going to find a trainee to debut and replace her...?" Chaeyoung asked and he shook his head.

"Not anytime soon, none of the trainees so far have the skills or talent or experience like hers to substitute her absence and this will surely tank the reviews and our income, that is why I'm asking you all what you wish to do at this time," YG explained and we pondered.

As we all discuss among ourselves how we're going to finish this comeback or if will just cancel it entirely, I cannot help but feel like I'm being watched, and when I glanced out the window my eyes widened as I saw... Jennie standing on a platform...

She was unrecognizable, her body was skinny to the bone, her eyes were white and her skin was pale like she was a ghost, and was staring directly at me.

"Jichu...? Are you okay?" Lisa asked waving her hand across my face snapping me out of my trance.

"H-Huh?" I stammered as I regained my senses and when I looked out the window all I saw was the cleaner wiping down the windows.

"Is there a problem, Miss Jisoo?" YG asked.

"N-No, sir, I'm fine... Just tired is all..." I nervously replied and he nodded.

"Alright, how about this? I'll leave you all to rest for the day, and by tomorrow you all can come into my office with your final decision, is that okay with you all?" YG asked and we nodded.

As we are dismissed from leaving the YG entertainment building, we head over to the dormitory to gather our thoughts and hopefully my sanity as I feel nothing but dread.

There is much pressure added to us now that Jennie is gone and Rose and Lisa were thinking about splitting the extra work evenly but that will be difficult as fans will feel disappointed about the comeback without her.

That night, my sleep was anything but peaceful, I woke up in a grassy land, and there in front of me was Jennie wearing a white dress and Jungkook wearing a black tuxedo. They were both warmly smiling as if nothing ever happened.

"K-Kookie? Jen? What are you two doing here?" I nervously asked.

"Hello, Jichu... We are waiting for you..." Jungkook spoke but his voice sounded off.

"We are waiting for you Jichu, join us... And you will be free of guilt..." Jennie spoke up.

Without warning, I woke up panting out of breath, I was covered in sweat trying to figure out what I just dreamt of but I didn't get a chance when I heard strange crackling noises like bones cracking.

I looked around, my stomach dropped seeing what appeared to be Jennie in that same white dress walking disfigured to the front entrance.

"J-Jennie... Is that you?" I softly called out as I got out of bed.

Quickly I got dressed in casual attire grabbed a black mask so nobody knows my identity and followed Jennie out of the dorm quietly without waking up Lisa and Chaeyoung.

I followed Jennie around the city which was strangely quiet and desolated as people are superstitious about walking at night, but I can't help wondering why Jennie was walking so awkwardly like some of her bones are broken or worn.

Eventually, she led me to what appeared to be an abandoned mine long forgotten to time.

"Why the hell is she going to a mine...?" I asked myself as I watched her from the distance in the bushes.

All of a sudden, the entrance of the mineshaft was glowing crimson red yet Jennie continued walking but she stopped right at the entrance and came out of what seemed to be what I describe as the gate to hell.

Coming out of the entrance was Jungkook in that same black tuxedo from my dream but his eyes were anything but normal as it was all white, he reached out his hand and Jennie took it before walking together through the mineshaft entrance.

"Dear Lord you are our shepherd and defender please protect me from all evil..." I prayed as I decided it was time to leave.

I continued repeating the prayer all the way back to the city and I saw some planks on the ground and decided to seal off the entrance to the best of my ability.

After the work was done, I ran the hell out of the forest as fast as I could until I reached the safety of the city and the dorm.

What I witness is just something I cannot explain nor could anyone and I do not want to go near that God forsaken mine ever again.

~

Present

Y/N's POV

And that is the end of the story of what the people and the authorities know... However, what Jisoo said in the interview isn't exactly clear and straight-up bullocks to most.

The military dispatched a company of soldiers to investigate the mine and sealed off the area with electric fences and barbed wire to keep everyone out... Or something in.

I don't know what the military is doing at those mineshafts to this day as the reports are all classified and they want nobody going in there.

Jennie and Jungkook were declared dead after their bodies were found but idols do report seeing them at night or in their dreams similar to Jisoo.

Sadly... Those two would not be the only missing victims...

[canary-prince]

Ways For US-Americans To Help If You're Abstaining From Voting

Can't vote on moral grounds, but still raring to do something? Stuck in America and unsure of how to meaningfully serve your community? Here are some ideas that I, a social worker serving house-bound citizens, can share out of personal experience. Feel free to add other ideas or links. We are not powerless.

Volunteer (these are just examples/sources of info)

Planned Parenthood needs volunteers for nearly every non-medical department

See if your state has a volunteer stewardship program, where you can help weed out invasive plant species and defend your natural ecosystem

If you have medical skills, become a street medic

Contribute to the preservation of Queer History

Put your labor towards the upkeep or repair of properties in Indigenous communities

Adult literacy is not great right now, and we're harder to lie to if we're literate; volunteer to help your neighbors who were failed by the school system

Resources to help the unhoused constantly need volunteer counselors, cooks, and someone to sort donations

The sick and elderly are very under-served, particularly if they're broke, so reach out to a local hospice to see what skills they need

Give (if you can't physically volunteer but have money to spare)

Donate to an abortion fund; this one is for Native peoples specifically

Donate to a book gifting program or book mobile; this link is for Dolly Parton's Imagination Library

Donate to preserve the histories of communities of color; this fund is specifically for preserving African American historical sites

Donate to protect the natural environment

Donate to help free those caged in prisons; this link is for the Innocence Project, which aims to challenge wrongful convictions

The arts are for everyone, but wealth gaps interfere; this fund is for art initiatives that contribute to community building, including increasing accessibility

Learn (resources that many communities have but aren't widely educated on)

Community Action Agencies: these are non-profits and private companies that act in service of their communities' human rights and quality of life. Many have utility funds, run food banks, manage emergency shelters, provide education and job skills opportunities, and participate in social activism.

Area Agencies on Aging: Non-profits that serve elders (and non-elderly disabled citizens) in a designated service area. They primarily offer services to prolong independent living (free or low cost in home care, meals on wheels, home safety modifications, and Medicare guidance) or help with transition into assisted living.

Habitat For Humanity: They aren't just in disaster zones or on foreign soil; they have local US chapters that provide critical repairs to families in need. They repair roofs, address barriers to access, and perform electric and plumbing work.

Durable Medical Equipment Loan Closets: Communal sources of vital medical equipment including wheelchairs, walkers, canes, hospital beds, shower chairs, and more. May be able to provide incontinence supplies or diabetes supplies. Rarely but sometimes provide oxygen.

Non Emergency Medical Transportation/Alternatives to Mass Transit: Transportation for elderly, disabled, cognitively impaired, and low income citizens to help them reach medical providers, dental care, physical therapy, and eye exam appointments. Can also provide transit to shopping centers, the grocery store, religious events, cultural events, and polling stations. Offer door to door services for the housebound. IF YOU HAVE MEDICAID, YOU SHOULD NOT EVER BE PAYING FOR THIS. MEDICAID IS OBLIGATED TO MAKE SURE YOU REACH ANY AND ALL MEDICAL APPOINTMENTS.

Legal Aid Clinics: Sources of pro-bono or sliding scale legal advice and representation.

[nirbobharvey]

Hurricane Milton Resources, Emergency Contacts, and Recovery Assistance

Hurricane Milton is making landfall in Florida, and residents across the state must prepare for the potential devastation it could bring. With forecasts predicting high winds, torrential rain, and widespread flooding, Hurricane Milton could leave communities struggling to rebuild.

New Image Roofing Atlanta gathered information about Hurricane Milton, the damage and devastation it will likely leave in its path, valuable emergency resources, and what New Image Roofing has invested to assist the urgent upcoming recovery efforts.

New Image Roofing Florida 352-316-6008 is ready to assist residents and businesses with roofing and recovery needs. Below is a breakdown of the potential risks, necessary resources, and emergency contacts to help Floridians navigate this challenging time.

Potential Devastation from Hurricane Milton

Hurricane Milton’s impact on Florida could be catastrophic. Forecasts show a Category 4 storm, and officials urge everyone to prepare for the worst. The potential damage from this hurricane could include:

Winds up to 150 mph – These extreme wind speeds can tear roofs off homes and businesses, uproot trees, and snap power lines. Flying debris could cause significant property damage and put lives at risk.

Torrential rainfall and flooding – Milton is expected to dump up to 20 inches of rain in certain areas, leading to flash flooding in low-lying regions. Coastal areas face the added threat of storm surge, which could inundate homes and infrastructure.

Watch this video to grasp the dangers of storm surge (a storm surge of 15 feet is expected with Hurricane Milton).

Power outages – Downed power lines will likely cause widespread outages. These outages may last days or weeks, leaving communities without access to essential services.

Tornadoes – Hurricane Milton’s powerful system could spawn tornadoes, particularly in the eastern parts of the state, causing additional destruction.

Watch this video to see Hurricane Milton’s approach to Florida’s west coast.

New Image Roofing Florida’s Response

New Image Roofing Florida has a strong history of helping communities recover after hurricanes. The company is prepared to assist with Hurricane Milton’s aftermath. As part of their commitment to helping Florida rebuild, New Image Roofing teams will be deployed to the most affected regions as soon as it is safe to begin repairs.

Rapid Deployment – New Image Roofing Florida teams are on standby, ready to travel to hurricane-affected areas to begin emergency repairs. Their teams specialize in patching damaged roofs, installing temporary tarps, and providing long-term roofing solutions.

NEW IMAGE ROOFING FLORIDA 352-316-6008

Residential and Commercial Assistance – New Image Roofing Florida is equipped to handle residential and commercial properties. Their priorities are to rapidly secure buildings, prevent further water damage, and help businesses reopen quickly.

Free Inspections and Estimates – The company offers free roof inspections and damage estimates for all affected Floridians.

Experienced Hurricane Recovery Teams – With years of experience handling the aftermath of powerful storms, New Image Roofing Florida will work efficiently to secure homes, schools, businesses, and critical infrastructure.

Federal and State Resources

In the wake of Hurricane Milton, Floridians will rely on various state and federal agencies to provide essential services. Below is a list of important contacts and resources for emergency assistance, shelters, and recovery support:

Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA)

Website: fema.gov Phone: 1-800-621-FEMA (3362)

Services: FEMA provides disaster relief assistance, including temporary housing, emergency financial aid, and infrastructure repair.

American Red Cross

Website: redcross.org Phone: 1-800-RED-CROSS (733-2767)

Services: The Red Cross offers shelter, food, and medical support during and after disasters.

Florida Division of Emergency Management (FDEM)

Website: floridadisaster.org Phone: 850-815-4000 State Assistance Emergency Line: 1-800-342-3557 Florida Relay Service: Dial 711 (TDD/TTY)

Services: FDEM coordinates state-wide emergency response, disaster recovery, and evacuation orders.

New Image Roofing Florida

Website: newimageroofingfl.com Phone: 352-316-6008

Services: New Image Roofing Florida provides full-service emergency roof inspections, patching up damaged roofs, installing temporary tarps, and providing long-term roofing solutions. The company will also coordinate/attend adjusters meetings with your insurance agency.

Florida Power & Light (FPL)

Website: fpl.com Phone: 1-800-468-8243

Services: FPL provides power outage reporting and updates on restoration timelines.

National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP)

Website: floodsmart.gov Phone: 1-888-379-9531

Services: NFIP provides information about flood insurance policies and assistance with claims after flood damage.

Florida Department of Transportation (FDOT)

Website: fdot.gov Phone: 1-850-414-4100

Services: FDOT manages road closures and traffic conditions. They provide real-time updates about safe evacuation routes and road repairs after a storm.

Local Florida County Emergency Services

Each Florida county has emergency management teams coordinating shelters, first responders, and relief efforts. Check your county’s website for specific contact numbers and resources. At-risk counties include:

Charlotte Citrus De Soto Flagler Glades Hardee Hernando Hillsborough Manatee Pasco Pinellas Sarasota Sumter

Visit WUSF (West Central Florida’s NPR station) website for valuable local information, emergency shelter, and guidance.

Website: wusf.org

Hurricane Season Risks and Preparedness

Florida’s hurricane season runs from June 1 to November 30. Hurricane Milton is hitting just as the state braces for more potential storms. The danger doesn’t end when the hurricane passes. After a storm like Milton, communities are left vulnerable to future weather events. The risk of another hurricane striking Florida before Milton’s recovery remains high.

Weakening Infrastructure – After Milton, homes and businesses will be more susceptible to damage from weaker tropical storms or hurricanes. Unrepaired roofs and weakened structures could collapse or fail under minimal pressure.

Flooding Risks – Milton’s heavy rainfall and storm surge will saturate the ground and fill waterways. This will leave communities vulnerable to even small rain events, with the potential for additional flooding.

Power Restoration Delays – With Milton causing widespread outages, the power grid may remain unstable for weeks, making it difficult for residents to recover fully before the next storm hits.

Preparing for Future Storms – Residents must begin making plans now for the rest of hurricane season. Stock up on supplies, make sure your property is secure, and stay informed about future weather developments.

Additional Tips for Hurricane Preparedness

To ensure the safety of yourself and your loved ones, follow these guidelines when preparing for a Hurricane:

Evacuate if Ordered – Listen to local officials and immediately evacuate if you are in an evacuation zone. Delaying could put your life at risk.

Secure Your Property – Install hurricane shutters, trim trees, and secure outdoor items. Consider having your roof inspected by New Image Roofing before the storm hits.

Prepare a Disaster Kit – Include essentials like water, food, medications, flashlights, batteries, and important documents.

Stay Informed – Official sources like FEMA, FDEM, and the National Weather Service offer updates and information.

Read more about hurricane preparedness at newimageroofingatlanta.com/hurricane-preparedness-a-comprehensive-guide

Hurricane Milton Resources and Recovery

In this article, you discovered information about hurricane preparedness, potential severe damage to roofs and homes, post-hurricane emergency services and resources, and how to repair your home and roof after the storm.

Your awareness and preparedness for Hurricane Milton (and coming storms) will minimize damages and help you return to normal in the storm’s aftermath.

Lack of proactive measures and delayed action will leave you uninformed, in life-threatening situations, and severely challenged to get your home and roof repaired after a hurricane sweeps through your community.

New Image Roofing Florida – 352-316-6008

Sources: fema.gov/disaster/current/hurricane-milton climate.gov/news-features/event-tracker/hurricane-milton-rapidly-intensifies-category-5-hurricane-becoming nhc.noaa.gov/refresh/graphics_at4+shtml/150217.shtml?cone

New Image Roofing Atlanta

2020 Howell Mill Rd NW Suite 232 Atlanta, GA30318 (404) 680-0041

To see the original version of this article, visit https://www.newimageroofingatlanta.com/hurricane-milton-resources-emergency-contacts-and-recovery-assistance/

[mariacallous]

Through the twists and turns of the U.S. presidential race, immigration has remained one of voters’ top concerns. Former President Donald Trump has consistently made allegations about the supposed danger posed by migrants, including repeating a false claim that Haitians in Ohio were eating Americans’ pets. Meanwhile, Vice President Kamala Harris’s campaign has touted the sharp drop in migrant encounters at the U.S. southern border in recent months as a sign of the White House’s control over the issue.

U.S. authorities’ encounters at the U.S.-Mexico border—when a migrant is apprehended by Border Patrol before they are generally expelled or allowed to enter asylum proceedings—fell from 249,741 in December 2023 to 58,038 in August. But while the White House has taken some unilateral steps to lower those numbers—such as a June presidential proclamation that severely restricted the ability to seek asylum at the border—Harris and U.S. President Joe Biden may owe just as much to countries such as Mexico and Panama.

In coordination with the United States, Mexico and Panama have constructed their own new barriers to northward migration in the last year. Those include a busing campaign to move migrants southward within Mexico, as well as fencing and deportation flights to tighten up the Panama-Colombia border. After Mexico stepped up the current campaign in January, U.S. border arrivals dropped by a whopping 50 percent in one month.

The chaotic discourse surrounding immigration in the United States obscures a broader story: The Western Hemisphere boasts an increasingly synchronous approach to managing migration. Through negotiations with Latin American countries, the Biden administration has helped develop a regional strategy that goes beyond enforcement to include steps such as creating new legal pathways for labor migration. The approach has won praise from organizations such as the Inter-American Development Bank and the U.N. Refugee Agency, even as migrant rights groups have also criticized some of its tactics.

At its core, the hemispheric strategy is straightforward, said its coordinator on the White House National Security Council, Marcela Escobari: “creating consequences for irregular migration—and for the smugglers preying on vulnerable migrants—while creating alternative lawful pathways.”

Before the recent decline in migrant encounters at the U.S. southern border, authorities were wrestling with a record influx; encounters soared to more than 2 million in both 2022 and 2023.

This increase has multiple causes. More than 7 million people have fled Venezuela in the last decade. Most reside in Latin America, while others have ventured toward the United States. Cuba’s economic crisis, meanwhile, prompted its largest emigration wave in history between 2022 and 2023. People have also fled violence and poverty in countries such as Haiti and Ecuador. And some migrants reach the U.S. border from starting points beyond the Western Hemisphere, having flown to Latin America from countries such as India, China, and Afghanistan to trek northward.

Smugglers often play a major role in encouraging migrants. “They sell the route like it’s adventure tourism,” said Ronal Rodríguez, a migration expert at the University of Rosario in Bogotá. Thanks in part to organized crime groups that see migrants as a revenue stream, the Darién Gap—the dangerous jungle border between Colombia and Panama—went from being considered mostly unpassable to becoming a migrant highway since the COVID-19 pandemic.

Historic migration flows have strained Latin American countries and their asylum and refugee systems for years. So governments started talking. In 2018, 11 Latin American countries gathered in Quito, Ecuador, to launch a series of negotiations on assisting Venezuelan migrants, pledging steps such as granting them legal status in host countries and connecting them with international aid.

Then, at the 2022 Summit of the Americas in Los Angeles, 19 Latin American and Caribbean countries along with Canada and the United States signed on to a U.S.-conceived pledge for multipronged migration cooperation that included boosting enforcement, expanding legal pathways for migration, and stabilizing migrant populations where they currently reside.

The LA Declaration was conceived to apply to migrants of all nationalities, but some of the clearest examples of how it works in practice pertain to Venezuelans.

Countries such as Mexico, Costa Rica, and Belize have introduced visa requirements for Venezuelan visitors since 2022—an example of an enforcement move meant to deter illegal migration. But since October 2022, some Venezuelans have been able to apply to fly into the United States under a temporary protection mechanism called humanitarian parole, a new legal pathway. To stabilize migrant populations, the United States helps fund aid for displaced Venezuelans living in Colombia to discourage further migration.

The fact that the talks for the LA Declaration included countries from Chile to Canada marked a new chapter in Western Hemisphere diplomacy, said Diego Chaves-González of the Migration Policy Institute. Smaller regional blocs such as the Caribbean Community and Mercosur had in the past mostly conducted migration negotiations internally; now, they are swapping strategies. “These bubbles, in terms of migration, have burst,” Chaves-González said.

As a broadly defined strategy, the LA Declaration includes signatories that sometimes disagree about the fine print. Latin American countries have occasionally chafed at U.S. demands for greater migration enforcement in the hemisphere.

Even after Colombia, Panama, and the United States announced a joint campaign to “end the illicit movement of people” through the Darién Gap in April 2023, Colombian President Gustavo Petro told the New York Times that it was not his goal to stop migration through the gap; he said he would not send “horses and whips” to address a problem that Colombia did not create and instead blamed U.S. sanctions on Venezuela for exacerbating the issue. (The campaign ended after two months with little change on the ground.)

Even so, Petro has gone along with other tenets of the LA Declaration, such as allowing the U.S. government to screen certain migrants in Colombia for refugee resettlement and refer them to information about other lawful routes via a program called the Safe Mobility Initiative.

The declaration’s goal of adding legal pathways has earned especially strong enthusiasm among Latin American governments. It has also allowed for a conceptual innovation, Chaves-González said: connecting migration management with countries’ labor market needs.

“Today, the labor force of the United States would be rapidly shrinking without immigration,” said George Mason University economist Michael Clemens, who advised the Biden administration on migration policy between 2021 and 2023. In Mexico, some of the country’s largest employers are cooperating to recruit migrants and refugees to fill their workforce needs. And in Colombia, migration was in large part responsible for saving the country’s coffee and flower industries over the last five years, Chaves-González said.

Voters often don’t realize migrants’ positive impact on host economies, Clemens said, because of incorrect measurement and false stereotypes. For a more complete accounting, he pointed to a July Congressional Budget Office estimate that the U.S. immigration surge since 2021—composed of groups such as asylum-seekers, undocumented people, and those admitted through executive parole—will add some $9 trillion to the economy over the next decade.

Eyeing not only humanitarian principles but also economic benefits, the Biden administration has paroled some 530,000 Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans, and Venezuelans into the United States since 2022. Washington also worked with Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador to grow the number of temporary H-2 work visas issued to their citizens, from 9,800 in 2021 to around 27,000 in 2023.

Mexico, meanwhile, has issued work authorization to more than 17,500 asylum-seekers since 2022 and created an online platform to connect migrants with jobs. A nascent U.S. program called Labor Neighbors also aims to build a matching system between workers and jobs throughout the hemisphere, U.S. Homeland Security Advisor Elizabeth Sherwood-Randall said on Sept. 17.

Mexico has been an especially vocal advocate for new legal pathways. In a high-stakes December 2023 meeting where U.S. officials requested Mexican help stopping migrants moving northward, Mexican officials pushed for increased legal migration routes, they later wrote.

“Where we have to place our bet,” then-Mexican Foreign Secretary Alicia Bárcena said in June, “is on regular pathways for labor migration.”

The LA Declaration has gained praise inside and outside the Western Hemisphere. U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees Filippo Grandi hailed a “growing convergence of views” in the hemisphere on migration, while the Danish and Swiss governments have funded research discussing whether the Safe Mobility Initiative could be replicated in Europe. “The current U.S. government has sought to create a positive agenda with the region when it comes to managing these [migrant] flows that are somewhat inevitable,” Brazilian diplomat Carlos Márcio Cozendey said.

Despite those accolades, some migration and human rights experts have also criticized actions taken under the scope of the declaration, which they say chip away at the international right to asylum.

Hemispheric actions since 2022 have in practice included more steps to restrict migration pathways than to create new ones, the University of Rosario’s Rodríguez said. New legal pathways often have strict cutoff dates, nationality requirements, fees, and documentation needs. Biden’s June proclamation was transparent about its intent to make it harder to claim asylum at the U.S. border, broadly restricting migrants’ eligibility for the second time in just over a year.

“With the Los Angeles Declaration, a lot of countries that had a policy of migrant reception are assuming the U.S. posture of migrant containment,” Rodríguez said. Chile, for example, announced “supposed pathways for formal migration, but people in humanitarian need can’t fulfill the requirements because they lack documents like passports,” he added.

Biden administration officials have pushed back against criticism of Washington’s border tightening. The U.S. asylum system “is not built for a higher volume of people” and the way it was being used by migrants was “destabilizing,” Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas said in September.

Strains on asylum systems across the world have led policymakers to increasingly bypass them in favor of other methods for handling protection-seeking migrants, Migration Policy Institute researchers noted in a July report. That includes the Biden administration’s use of humanitarian parole for certain Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans, and Venezuelans who might have otherwise tried to seek asylum at the border. The researchers argued for shifting “the focus of protection responses away from an exclusive reliance on territorial asylum and toward a diversified set of policy tools.”

While the U.N. Refugee Agency has encouraged the United States’ and its neighbors’ efforts “to develop a comprehensive response to forced displacement in the hemisphere,” it has also “expressed concern about measures that introduced restrictions on the right to seek asylum, potentially leaving many individuals in need of international protection without viable means to reach safety and at risk of being returned to danger,” a spokesperson said in a statement.

As the U.S. election approaches, the biggest question around regional migration cooperation is how much would survive a potential Trump presidency. Trump has remained neck and neck with Harris in polls as he pledges to carry out mass deportations, “suspend refugee resettlement,” and scrap an app that the Biden administration developed to allow some migrants to register for asylum screenings.

If Trump carries out an anti-migrant crackdown, “I do not think Mr. Trump is going to care, frankly, whether Latin American and Caribbean countries—or anybody else sending refugees and irregular migration—may be upset about this,” said Ronald Sanders, Antigua and Barbuda’s ambassador to the United States and the Organization of American States.

While Trump could deal a heavy blow to the current approach, much too depends on other countries in the Western Hemisphere. It was during Trump’s presidency that countries such as Colombia and Brazil started to lead cooperation on hosting displaced Venezuelans despite the White House’s relative lack of engagement on the issue.

In 2018, Colombia granted regular status to nearly half a million Venezuelans, kicking off a wave of similar measures in other South American countries. The same year, Brazil launched a program to connect Venezuelan migrants with jobs that has since transferred more than 100,000 people from border areas. With help from both the government and private sector, Cozendey, the Brazilian diplomat, said Venezuelans “are absorbed around the country without turning into a problem.” The program has survived center-right, far-right, and left-wing governments.

Late last month in New York City, LA Declaration countries announced the creation of a new technical secretariat to ensure their work continues into the future. Colombia was appointed the group’s rotating chair for 2025.

“We have very important progress” in joint responses to migration, Colombian Foreign Minister Luis Gilberto Murillo said. “But still we have a lot of challenges.”

[corvid-language-library]

JLPT Journal 28/06 (Countdown: 156 days)

Today I:

did 1 hour audio shadowing

read 3 NHK Easy articles

watched one grammar video about ば…ほど + made shadowing audios

watched two videos about わけだ

reviewed kanji and rejigged my difficult kanji list

learned 12 new kanji

N4/N3 vocab from today:

途中（とちゅう）en route

機関（きかん）agency, organisation; engine; system, facility

調査（ちょうさ）investigation, examination, inquiry, survey

報告（ほうこく）report, information

伝える（つたえる）to convey, to report, to communicate, to tell

給料（きゅうりょう）salary, wages, pay

差（さ）difference, variation

虐める（いじめる）to ill-treat, to bully, to torment, to pick on

被害（ひがい）(suffering) damage, injury, harm

宇宙（うちゅう）universe, cosmos, space

上達（じょうたつ）improvement, advance, progress

新鮮（しんせん）fresh

理解（りかい）understanding, comprehension

噂（うわさ）rumour, gossip, hearsay

納得（なっとく）consent, agreement, acceptance; understanding, satisfaction (with an explanation)

包む（つつむ）to wrap up

謎（なぞ）enigma, puzzle, riddle, mystery

つまり in other words, that is to say; in short, in brief

成功（せいこう）success, achievement

Higher level vocab:

火口（かこう）crater

他にも（ほかにも）furthermore

山開き（やまびらき）start of mountain climbing season

保つ（たもつ）to keep, to hold, to preserve

人権（じんけん）human rights

弁護士（べんごし）lawyer, attorney

ばれる to leak out (a secret), to be exposed (of a lie), to be found out

道理で（どうりで）indeed; it's no wonder

尚（なお）still, yet; more, still more

言い換える（いいかえる）to say in other words, to put another way, to reword, to rephrase

上司（じょうし）boss

誘い（さそい）invitation

助力（じょりょく）assistance, aid

Things to review:

うちに

てからでないと

通り

ところ

ように

ほど

Tomorrow is the start of my weekend. I feel like I've worked hard this week and managed to get through enough to be on track with my studies, so I want to spend tomorrow reviewing things I studied this week. Sunday's plan is to do no studying at all, just watch anime/play Pokemon/listen to the radio so I can reset a little bit. I don't want to burn out!

[reachartwork]

License to Utilize Metahuman Abilities (Flight Modification) Act of 2014

Section 1: Modification to the LUMA Act of 2013

This Act may be cited as the "Flight Modification to the License to Utilize Metahuman Abilities Act of 2014."

Section 2: Definition of Flight

(a) "Flight" is defined as the ability of an aviation-capable metahuman to engage in at least two of the three following traits: "sustained velocity", "directional control", and "hovering".

(b) "Sustained velocity" is defined as the ability to maintain velocity independently of initial momentum, differentiating from jumping, which relies on initial force.

(c) "Directional control" is defined as the ability to navigate and change directions mid-air, as opposed to a trajectory typical of jumping.

(d) "Hovering" is defined as the ability to remain stationary or near-stationary in the air.

Section 3: Addition of Flight-Specific Regulations

(a) Flight Certification: Superhumans with flight capabilities must obtain a Flight Certification as an addendum to their LUMA.

(b) Flight Certification Requirements:

Proof of ability to safely takeoff, navigate, and land.

Understanding of air traffic control communication and compliance with flight regulations.

(c) Flight Zone Compliance: Flight-Certified Superhumans must adhere to existing designated flight zones and altitude restrictions.

Section 4: Juvenile Flight Regulations

(a) Juvenile Flight Altitude Limitation: Juveniles with flight capabilities are limited to an altitude of 30 feet above the nearest horizontal surface below them, modifiable by local and municipal laws.

(b) Flight Curfew for Juveniles: A federal flight curfew is established for juveniles, restricting flight times to the hours between 8 AM and 8 PM.

(c) License Suspension for Violations: Violation of flight regulations results in suspension of the JLUMA for a period of at least 30 days and up to a year.

(d) JLUMA Interview Requirement: Juveniles must demonstrate control of their flight abilities as part of the JLUMA interview process. Requirements for flight certification for Juveniles are the same as flight certification for adult superhumans.

Section 5: Penalties & Enforcement

(a) Uncertified Flight Violation: The unauthorized use of flight abilities in restricted zones, or operating such abilities in a careless or reckless manner, constitutes a misdemeanor. This offense is punishable by a fine ranging from $2,000 to $30,000. In cases of severe violations, characterized by extreme recklessness or resulting in significant danger to public safety, the offense may escalate to a criminal charge, subject to imprisonment for up to three years and fines ranging from $5,000 to $300,000.

(b) Unauthorized Flight Violation: Engaging in unauthorized flight within restricted zones constitutes a misdemeanor and results in the suspension of the offender's flight certification. The duration of the suspension ranges between 30 days and three years, depending on the severity of the violation.

(c) Flight Certification Violations: Entities employing flight-capable Superhumans without proper certification are subject to increased fines starting at $50,000.

Section 6: Integration with National Airspace System

(a) Air Traffic Management: The National Superhuman Response Agency (NSRA) shall collaborate with the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) to integrate flight-capable Superhumans into the National Airspace System.

(b) Emergency Protocols: Flight-Certified Superhumans are required to comply with emergency airspace restrictions and assist in national emergencies when requested by authorities.

Section 7: Implementation

(a) The modifications outlined in this Act shall be implemented within 180 days from its enactment.

<Read Chum today!>

[darkmaga-returns]

An emergency response official’s decision to withhold vital assistance to hurricane victims that showed visible support for Republicans is a scandal that belies a larger issue, namely, an unaccountable federal bureaucracy left to police itself and which President-elect Donald Trump has eyed for reform and cuts.   

The concerns were raised by House Oversight Committee Chairman James Comer in a hearing on the Federal Emergency Management Agency’s response to the dual crises of Hurricanes Helene and Milton that struck Florida and the wider Southeast earlier this year. 

“While today’s hearing will focus on FEMA, the issue at hand is part of a larger problem: the urgent need to hold the unelected, unaccountable federal workforce accountable to the American people and to the duly elected President of the United States,” Comer said in his opening statement. 

“The current system does not have strong enough mechanisms to ensure accountability. The disciplinary system is run by and for civil servants to protect civil servants,” he continued.

The hearing followed reports that during the hurricane response in Florida, one FEMA official instructed subordinates to bypass houses that displayed pro-Trump signs in Lake Placid, Florida, while they were canvassing to deliver assistance to the hurricane-stricken community. 

[lboogie1906]

Lieutenant General Stayce D. Harris (August 19, 1959) is the first African American woman to hold a three-star General rank, the first Air Force Reservist to be promoted to the three-star rank other than the chief of the Air Force Reserve Command, and the first African American woman to serve as Inspector General of the Air Force, Office of the Secretary of the Air Force.

She was born in Los Angeles to Clyde Bruce Harris, a career airman in the Air Force, and Alice Mae Tabourn Harris, a banker. She graduated from the 71st High School in Fayetteville, North Carolina, and received her commission in the Air Force via the USC Air Force ROTC program, where she received her BS in Industrial and Systems Engineering.

She received her MS in Aviation Management from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University and completed Squadron Officer School at Maxwell Air Force Base. She served in active duty until 1990 when she began working for United Airlines as a commercial pilot.

She made history by becoming the first African American woman to command an Air Refueling Wing. She served as the Assistant Vice Chief of Staff and Director, Air Staff at the Headquarters.

She was promoted to Brigadier General, Major General, and Lieutenant General. She was appointed Inspector General of the Air Force. She was responsible for two field operating agencies: the Air Force Office of Special Investigations and the Air Force Inspection Agency.

Her recognitions include the Distinguished Service Medal with oak leaf cluster, Defense Superior Service Medal, Legion of Merit, Meritorious Service Medal with three oak leaf clusters, Aerial Achievement Medal, Joint Meritorious Unit Award, Air Force Outstanding Unit Award, Meritorious Unit Award, Air Force Outstanding Unit Award with three oak leaf clusters, Combat Readiness Medal with bronze star, Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, and Armed Forces Reserve Medal with bronze hourglass.

She retired from the Air Force Reserves in 2019. Her portrait hangs in the Pentagon. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[beardedmrbean]

Federal and local authorities arrested dozens of employees of New York City's public housing agency in a series of morning raids Tuesday linked to a massive bribery and extortion plot, according to prosecutors.

The raids, coordinated by Homeland Security Investigations and the city's Department of Investigation, netted the most single-day bribery arrests in the history of the Justice Department, according to Damian Williams, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York.

In all, 70 people were arrested in six states.

ILLEGAL MASTERMINDS OF NYC ROBBERY RING HACKED BANK APPS, RESOLD STOLEN PHONES OVERSEAS

"As we allege, the 70 defendants charged today allegedly demanded over $2 million in bribe money from contractors in exchange for giving out over $13 million of work," he said at a news briefing. "And if the contractors didn't pay up, the defendants wouldn't give them the work."

According to court documents, an unnamed co-conspirator allegedly texted another asking how much of a bribe she should demand: "1k per cool?"

NYPD RELEASES MIGRANT RAID PHOTOS AS SOFT-ON-CRIME LEADERS FACE NATIONAL OUTRAGE

"No problem babe, as long as your are being blessed," Angela Williams, a 64-year-old suspect who is not related to the U.S. attorney, allegedly replied.

The New York City Housing Authority, or NYCHA, is the country's largest public housing system and takes in more than $1.5 billion in federal funding every year, according to the DOJ. 

As a public entity, it is required to bid contracts for most repairs or construction work and go with the lowest bidder. But there is an exemption for essential projects, such as plumbing emergencies or broken windows, that cost under $10,000.

Management at each building was allowed to make "no-bid" deals for those jobs.

All of the suspects were NYCHA superintendents or assistant superintendents when prosecutors say they demanded cuts of between $500 to $2,000 or more per job, ultimately collecting $2 million of taxpayers' money since it came out of the funds contractors received from city and federal agencies.

"That's classic pay-to-play, and this culture of corruption at NYCHA ends today," Williams said.

The kickback scheme was so pervasive it took place in almost a third of NYCHA's properties, he said.

Investigators are asking contractors who may have been victimized by similar demands for pay-to-play bribes to contact the DOJ's whistleblower program at USANYS.WBP@usdoj.gov or the city's inspector general.

Most of the suspects have been charged with taking bribes and extortion, which carry 10- and 20-year maximum sentences in federal prison, respectively. Several face more charges.

[lgcmanager]

NEWKIDS NEWDREAMS 002 (PART 1 OF 2)

SCHEDULE TYPE: VARIABLE SCHEDULE RESTRICTIONS:  - members taking part in WORKSHOP 002 CANNOT do the regular TRAINEE MISSION - members NOT in the workshop this trimester are expected to take part in the TRAINEE MISSION

the five trainees are back in the meeting room and just as last time,  KIM HYUNCHEOL (the trainees' head manager), SEO YOUNGJAE (kim hyuncheol's assistant), PARK JEONGAN (current CEO), LEE ISEUL (head creative director) and LEE YONGSEOK (DBSD DAEHYUN's manager) are present with them. shortly after they are seated, 3 new trainees are hearded in:

HWANG MINKI ( @lgcminki )

MAE JASPER ( @lgcxjasper )

SUNG HANEUL ( @lgchxneul )

HYUNCHEOL and YONGSEOK are the first to get up and introduce them as the new TRIAL MEMBERS. congratulations on passing the audition to all three of you !

NEWKIDS NEWDREAMS SYSTEM REMINDER

CORE MEMBERS (BAEK BYEONGKWAN, HAN NOEUL, KURAMOTO MISAKI, LAI WENJUN, XUE YICHEN): members currently set to be part of the debut group. as long as you do the requirements for NKND, you'll be kept in the group. should you want to drop out, simply ignore the requirements. one missed trimester will move your character to the TRIAL MEMBERS group.

TRIAL MEMBERS (HWANG MINKI, MAE JASPER, SUNG HANEUL): members currently on trial, should their performance during the trimester satisfy the coaches, they will be moved to the core group. to be moved to core members, trial members must do the requirements for NKND as well as the trainee mission/wokshop 002 this trimester. if you wish to drop out of the project, simply ignore the NKND requirements for a trimester and the character will be dropped

shortly after, none other than CHOI DAEHYUN of DBSD himself enters the room. his presence seems to fill it as soon as he steps in. after exchanging greetings, PARK JEONGAN addresses the people present. "as you've surely heard, we are opening a new subsidary, and from today on, CHOI DAEHYUN will be your boss." the last word is followed by a short amused chuckle. "DBSD, when founding USGEN, had a clear view of the company and what they want to achieve. and the 8 of you have been carefully picked by all the people present here with this view in mind. in the next couple of months, you'll be moving to the 7th floor, which will be fully dedicated, and only accessible to USGEN staff. don't worry, the rest of the building - except LGC AGENCY's foor - will still be accessible for you." he further explains. "this will be the last meeting that ISEUL and myself will be attending. Creative control will be handled by DBSD members themselves, while HYUNCHEOL, YOUNGJAE and YONGSEOK will be here to support you on the day to day matters until further notice."

once he's done talking, DAEHYUN finally speaks. "the members and i have been reviewing the content you've filmed so far. 'USGEN CHANNEL' will launch on MAY 1. i'll be introducing the company, our goals and plans on that day, as well as the NEWKIDS NEWDREAMS project. the first episodes of the show will actually be dedicated to reviewing your performances, for those who have filmed them. and, for those who havent, it's coming soon enough." his grin makes his words further more omnious for some reason. "our goal is to officially shift the videos to you 8 only on MAY 22, when NEW KIDZ ON THE BLOCK will be released digitally.

NEW KIDZ ON THE BLOCK

the basis of a new group is to introduce those part of it and this is what the first tasks of the boys will be about ! as this is content for a YOUTUBE CHANNEL, the tasks are divided in 'videos' that the boys will have to film:

NEW KIDZ ON THE BLOCK (TAKE 2): DBSD'S DAEHYUN has produced and written the THEME SONG for the youtube channel, titled NEW KIDZ ON THE BLOCK, it has already been recorded with the five first members, now that three more have joined, it will be rerecorded with them. The 8 MEMBERS audio and video performance will be the ones released to the public.

DOOM DUM DOOM: DBSD'S SEOHAN was tasked to compose, write and choreograph an anthem-sounding song that would show the future group's colors. the song titled 'DOOM DU DOOM' is the result. the group will be learning an practicing the song for the next month before they will be evaluated by a panel composed of DAEHYUN, SEOHAN and various coaches. if they should pass this evaluation, they will be filming the music video of the song some time in JUNE, with a digital release around JULY 8. all the lyrics for this trimester can be found HERE

SHOW US YOUR BEST (TRIAL MEMBERS ONLY): each members will record a solo performance* demonstrating what they are best at in terms of skills (singing, dancing, rapping and/or instuments are accepted)

SOLO PRACTICE (CORE MEMBERS ONLY): each member will be tasked to film themselves during their solo practice for about 1 hour. the skills they are practicing are up to them. this is to show the viewers and fans a window into their lives as trainees.

LANGUAGE BOOTCAMP: due to having less than 70 KOREAN LANGUAGE POINTS, KURAMOTO MISAKI and MAE JASPER have to participate in the language bootcamp, while LAI WENJUN will take part in it since he has less than 30 ENGLISH LANGUAGE POINTS. information on these bootcamps will be released later.

*only songs released by legacy artists or released by any artists BEFORE january 2022 are eligible

SHORTS

as written in the article, USGEN aims to be setting trends, and what better way to do so than use YOUTUBE SHORTS and TIKTOK. for fans to know them better, the members will be filming a 'SHALL WE KNOW' short (see JULIE and NATTY filming one HERE). each member will have to pick a LOCATION and OUTFIT that fits their IMAGE and PERSONALITY. if the location is outside of LEGACY, USGEN will book the location for a one hour shoot. another member will be in charge of FILMING the short and GIVING QUESTIONS. none of them will know the questions that will be asked prior to the short being filmed as the answers and actions need to be spontaneous. daehyun has only advice for the boys; go all out without shame !

BAEK BYEONGKWAN's video will be filmed/interviewed by XUE YICHEN

HAN NOEUL video will be filmed/interviewed by BAEK BYEONGKWAN

KURAMOTO MISAKI video will be filmed/interviewed by SUNG HANEUL

LAI WENJUN video will be filmed/interviewed by HAN NOEUL

HWANG MINKI video will be filmed/interviewed by KURAMOTO MISAKI

SUNG HANEUL video will be filmed/interviewed by MAE JASPER

MAE JASPER video will be filmed/interviewed by HWANG MINKI

XUE YICHEN video will be filmed/interviewed by LAI WENJUN

OTHER

following stage name submissions, here are how the core members will be referred to in public releases from here on:

BAEK BYEONGKWAN: BK

HAN NOEUL: Noeul

KURAMOTO MISAKI: SAEM

LAI WENJUN: Wenjun

XUE YICHEN: Yichen

the trial members will also be allowed to submit 3 STAGE NAME SUGGESTIONS if you wish for your muse to have a stage name! also, please note that the current members have all moved DORMS (again, for some) !

on a final note, we are in the process of picking a leader of the final group. as it stands SUNG HANEUL and HAN NOEUL are the only one to have shown interest in the role. the second part of the mission that'll come later in the trimester will pertain to group leader trials. other than HANEUL, if your muse is interested in the role, please kindly let us know through direct message. i want to make it clear that the muse will need to VOLUNTEER for the role as, ic wise, none of them would be forced into this position.

REQUIREMENTS

SHORTS: write a 6 (six) replies (minimum 8 lines) thead with your assigned partners making the shorts for +6 SKILL POINTS and +8 NOTORIETY !  ** this should be claimed twice **

SOLO PRACTICE: write a 300+ words solo about your muse filming their hour solo practice for +5 SKILL POINTS, +5 NOTORIETY !

PERFORMANCE: write a 300+ words solo or headcanon about which song they picked for the performance and why they made that choice for +2 SKILL POINTS, +2 NOTORIETY !

make sure to use the hashtag lgc:nknd on your threads and solos ! to validate your skill points and collect your notoriety points, please submit the following form ONCE on the points blog before JULY 6, 2024 11:59 EDT.

MUSE NAME ∙ NKND 002 - SHORTS (muse's video): +6 SKILL POINTS DISTRIBUTION + 8 notoriety [ LINK ] - SHORTS (filming/interviewing other muse): +6 SKILL POINTS DISTRIBUTION + 5 notoriety [ LINK ] - SOLO PRACTICE (core members): +5 SKILL POINTS DISTRIBUTION + 5 notoriety [ LINK ] - PERFORMANCE (trial members): +3 SKILL POINTS DISTRIBUTION + 2 notoriety [ LINK ] - STAGE NAME SUGGESTIONS (trial members): (give 3 suggestions of stage names)

[warningsine]

https://www.reuters.com/world/france-germany-eu-mark-anniversary-sudan-war-with-funding-push-2024-04-15/

PARIS/CAIRO, April 15 (Reuters) - Donors pledged more than 2 billion euros ($2.13 billion) for war-torn Sudan at a conference in Paris on Monday, French President Emmanuel Macron said, on the first anniversary of what aid workers describe as a neglected but devastating conflict.

Efforts to help millions of people driven to the verge of famine by the war have been held up by continued fighting between the army and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), restrictions imposed by the warring sides, and demands on donors from other global crises including in Gaza and Ukraine.

Conflict in Sudan is threatening to expand, with fighting heating up in and around al-Fashir, a besieged aid hub and the last city in the western Darfur region not taken over by the RSF. Hundreds of thousands of displaced people have sought refuge in the area.

"The world is busy with other countries," Bashir Awad, a resident of Omdurman, part of the wider capital and a key battleground, told Reuters last week. "We had to help ourselves, share food with each other, and depend on God."

In Paris, the EU pledged 350 million euros, while France and Germany, the co-sponsors, committed 110 million euros and 244 million euros respectively. The United States pledged $147 million and Britain $110 million.

Speaking at the end of the conference, which included Sudanese civilian actors, Macron emphasized the need to coordinate overlapping and so far unsuccessful international efforts to resolve the conflict and to stop foreign support for the warring parties.

"Unfortunately the amount that we mobilised today is still probably less than was mobilised by several powers since the start of the war to help one or the other side kill each other," he said.

As regional powers compete for influence in Sudan, U.N. experts say allegations that the United Arab Emirates helped arm the RSF are credible, while sources say the army has received weapons from Iran. Both sides have rejected the reports.

AID EFFORTS IMPEDED

The war, which broke out between the Sudanese army and the RSF as they vied for power ahead of a planned transition, has crippled infrastructure, displaced more than 8.5 million people, and cut many off from food supplies and basic services.

"We can manage together to avoid a terrible famine catastrophe, but only if we get active together now," German Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock said, adding that, in the worst-case scenario, 1 million people could die of hunger this year.

The United Nations is seeking $2.7 billion this year for aid inside Sudan, where 25 million people need assistance, an appeal that was just 6% funded before the Paris meeting. It is seeking another $1.4 billion for assistance in neighbouring countries that have housed hundreds of thousands of refugees.

The international aid effort faces obstacles to gaining access on the ground.

The army has said it would not allow aid into the wide swathes of the country controlled by its foes from the RSF. Aid agencies have accused the RSF of looting aid. Both sides have denied holding up relief.

"I hope the money raised today is translated into aid that reaches people in need," said Abdullah Al Rabeeah, head of Saudi Arabia's KSRelief.

On Friday, Sudan's army-aligned foreign ministry protested that it had not been invited to the conference. "We must remind the organisers that the international guardianship system has been abolished for decades," it said in a statement.

WAR CRIMES

The military factions, uneasy partners in the toppling of President Omar al-Bashir in 2019 and the overthrow of a government in 2021, have killed thousands of civilians, though death toll estimates are highly uncertain.

Each side has been accused of war crimes - which Macron said would not go unpunished - and the RSF and its allies have been blamed for ethnic cleansing in West Darfur. Both factions have largely denied the accusations against them.

In al-Fashir on Saturday, local activists reported that 40,000 people had fled their homes after RSF and allied militias raided and set fire to villages on the western outskirts of the city, killing at least 11.

The next day, fighting in the city including airstrikes by the army killed nine and injured 60, they said.

U.N. Secretary-General Antonio Guterres warned on Monday that any attack on al-Fashir could lead to "full-blown intercommunal conflict" in Darfur.

($1 = 0.9404 euro)