#it requires extensive planning and takes up almost all of my weekend
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kores-pomegranate · 11 months ago
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The last couple of days have been weird, not gonna lie.
I found out yesterday afternoon that a person I was very close friends with in college died from suicide over the weekend. He was the best man in my wedding. We hadn’t been that close in a long time—life takes people apart.
In November of 2022, his wife and infant son were killed in a car accident, and his other two sons were injured by alive. His middle son was touch and go and required extensive PT and OT for months after the crash.
I cannot begin to imagine the pain of those losses. I don’t want to try to imagine it.
Last November, this close friend group from college got together to be with him and his kids because we didn’t want him to be alone during such an awful time. It was a hard visit. He seemed…okay, I guess, in the way a person could be okay after something like that. He also seemed utterly empty. I think he died when his wife and baby died and I don’t think he came back. I do think he tried, and I think he wanted to be there for his kids.
I felt worried about him after seeing him and spending time with him. I messaged him saying that we should get together with our kids and try to reconnect in each other’s lives, and we tried to plan something but it fell away, and then the holidays happened. Every part of me knows that it wouldn’t have made a difference if I’d followed up with him. And still, I wish I had.
I slept not one single moment on Sunday night. For whatever reason, during my insomnia I was thinking about him and his wife. I had the thought that I should text him in the morning and get those plans solidified. It felt like such a random thought, because I truly can’t remember what made me think of him.
The way this grief has gripped me is overwhelming and surprising. I was once very close to this person. I convinced him to audition for a play with me my first semester of college because I didn’t want to go alone. The next year, we were cast as leads in the fall play. I joked with him a lot that he had me to thank for his blossoming theatre career.
We got married two weeks apart from one another, and our children were born less than three months apart. I spent every new year’s with him and our other friends for almost 10 years. It was a connection point for all of us that kept us coming back together long after we’d all graduated and moved away from one another. We only stopped when people started having multiple children and traveling got too complicated and expensive.
I thought about those new year’s trips a lot after his wife died. It made the memories feel surreal. I’m thinking about them again now, and it feels like putting multiple filters over the same photograph. So surreal it feels like a dream.
Even as I’m writing this, I’m realizing I ought to be less surprised by my grief. This person was an integral part of my life for a long time, and I guess that doesn’t go away when you fall out of touch.
I’ve never lost someone this close to me to suicide, I hope I never will again. Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m writing this right now, or what I’m hoping to get from it. I had a weird day where I saw a movie about a theological debate between Freud and CS Lewis about the existence of god, I renewed my library card and killed time by reading the graphic novelization of The Jungle by Upton Sinclair in its entirety (just some light reading to help me feel better, you know), then saw Poor Things which was utterly fantastic and also…left me with some deep questions.
Much like my memories of my friend, this day felt surreal. It felt like a dream, like I was only half in it. I think maybe it’s still a sense of shock, or maybe this is just what grief feels like.
I feel very, very sad. Heartbroken, and a little helpless. I’m not close to his family, I don’t know what I could even say or offer to them to help. I think for all of us, we will just have to wait for the grief to become easier to hold.
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bluethedream · 3 years ago
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nanami where are you I need you to support my decision to quit working forever
#rant about work ahead#as I'm always prone to do#I will start the last year of my contract at this institute next week#and from now until the beginning of next summer I will solely teach online because of my uni schedule#i always rant about how I'm overworked and underpaid#and this job has been horribly detrimental to my mental health to the point of various anxiety attacks and breakdowns#even though I love it#I still don't know how that's possible but anyway.#my boss finally gave me a raise that I feel like I don't deserve because I didn't do shit over the summer other than get by#i don't see any progress or exceptional work#in myself#and not to complain but a raise in this economy?#anywho I'm finally being paid neeeearly enough for the amount of work that I do per hour#but.#they gave me four separate classes. four separate age groups. four separate langauge levels. especially when I requested them not to.#because I already have my hands full with uni and my own brain and I can't handle four different classes when I'm working half time#it requires extensive planning and takes up almost all of my weekend#and. And they gave me the beginner language level too#which they know I'm not good at handling and teaching and. I'm just bracing myself for the ultimate disappointment I'm going to be teaching#in this claas#and the sheer thought makes me wanna give up rn but I've promised myself i won't#before they gave me these classes it was easy to think that I was going to have one more year here but now it seems like hell#it feels like I won't be able to do it and wjkdkwk ok not going down that rabbit hole#despite all of this? my mom is like..why don't you work more hours you can earn more.#at least my dad always tells me I can quit whenever I want and he tells me not to pressure myself.#I'm just waiting to see how bad exactly I will be fucking things up.#evth
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dikanamai · 3 years ago
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I'm still buried in work, but weekends are for taking a break and writing, and last one I could finally start my next fic. This will be the last one of the series, set right after In our darkest moment and I'll do anything for you, in the morning after Mira's ceremony. And it's written from Pepa's POV.
I've been eager to write this one since DECEMBER. I was eager to write from Pepa's eyes. And I'm enjoying it so much, sooo much, I've already wrote almost 4k words and it's just THE INTRODUCTION. This is crazy. I also plan to include a (potentially long) flashback of the same day in which is set The life of her dreams (remember there were some issues with Camilo that day? Well, about that), so this thing's gonna be a MONSTER.
I'm actually quite worried about its extension, so I wanted to share this 3k beginning as a sneak peek, since I'm not sure if I'll have to cut it from the final version. But I don't want it to get lost in the wind! I really love this part.
And you know how it's gonna be titled? :)
As if we were nothing.
---
The first thing Pepa wondered when she woke up in the morning was why she was feeling like if a herd of donkeys had spent the whole night dancing over her. Then, she remembered Camilo was sleeping with them, and everything clicked.
With a low growl, she tried to roll away from the abysm —she had been pushed to the edge and had half body hanging out—, but found her little king was lying across the mattress, limbs stretched like a star, occupying most of the space, while her husband suffered the same fate as her in the opposite side of the bed. That made her suppress another growl; as much as she loved her son and was up to spend every second of her day with him, sharing bed with Camilo at night was hellish. He was too nervous and moved too much in his sleep, and Pepa was used to a far quieter company. Félix was the best pillow on Earth; she could snuggle up to him and wallow in his warmth to forget all her worries. And when she slept with Bruno and Julieta, the three of them had a specific way of turning into a ball of tangled limbs and they barely moved till they woke up the next morning, totally refreshed. Most of the people considered their 'special cuddle' an unbearably oppressive oddity, but for them it was the most calming and comforting way to sleep since they could remember. It had always recharged their energy when they were feeling down.
Perhaps they should have slept together last night.
That thought just tiptoed across her mind, but it was enough to fully awake her, reminding her of the failed ceremony, the vanished door, the required vision and everyone's fretting. Pepa opened her eyes, clenching her jaw, and looked warily at the ceiling. Over the glass dome that protected them, a dark storm had gathered, twirling and changing, while the heavy rain pattered on the glass.
"Great," she snorted quietly, and rolled again, this time to get out of bed.
She sat up on the edge of the mattress and bent over till rest her elbows on her knees, exhaling. She rubbed her face, trying to brush off the last traces of sleep. And then she straightened up and glanced over her shoulder, at her baby boy and her husband, still deep in their dreams.
I have a traumatized daughter to calm down right now, that tops calming Bruno!
Her sister's words from last night hit her one more time, with the force of a slap, and Pepa twitched her mouth wistfully. Jesus Christ, Juli, she thought, sighing. Jesus Christ… But she couldn't take her complaint any further, because there she was, sleeping with her little son, because Camilo had looked so restless and scared and worried when they tried to put him on his bed that neither Félix nor she had the heart to leave him alone in that magical room that suddenly seemed nightmarish. Calming her son had topped calming Bruno, too. That was what being an adult meant, right? Always choosing priorities, thinking you would be able to handle everything and discovering you could barely handle anything at all.
Sometimes, being an adult just… sucked.
Sighing again, Pepa stood up and massaged the sore low of her back. She had to push away the thought she was getting old, frustrated. They were just thirty-nine, dammit. She wasn't like Bruno, who had stopped counting when they turned thirty-three ('Weren't we thirty-two last year?' had been his puzzled reaction in every one of their last six birthdays), but she wasn't like Julieta either, who used to consider herself a year older since January 1st, even if their birthday was still months away. For Pepa, she would keep being thirty-nine till the very hour they had been born. Then… then, she could start thinking about the fact that this year she would become a forty years old lady, whose life had passed in a blink and accumulated an upsetting amount of disappointments.
A thunder resounded over her, its roar softened by the dome, and Pepa shot a glare at the storm. She needed to pee, but she couldn't go out without taking care of the rain first or it would follow her outside. And, outside her room, there was no protection. There was no dome that acted as a barrier between her and the volatile effects of her power. Her room couldn't leave her giftless to give her a break, but at least it absorbed the weather she created, releasing it in the ceiling, and prevented her for getting soaked. So she exhaled and stepped away from the bed, heading to the most magical area of the room while she unbraided her hair, letting it down to relieve her scalp.
The further she got from the remainders of the real house, the thicker became the mist that covered the floor, as if she was walking in a cloud. It felt soft under her bare feet. In fact, her room was pretty similar to a clearing in the forest or the top of a mountain: a wide, empty space from where she could keep in check the sky and practice her control of the weather. When they were little, they used to play there as if it was a meadow and made picnics and things like that. They would spend a lot of time in her room, even if her ceiling was always clouded and the rain was far more present than the sun. Julieta and Bruno didn't mind it. They had been sleeping there together almost every night till they were ten.
How far away all of that seemed now.
The space wasn't so big anymore. As she had gotten older, and children games had stopped being played there, the meadow started to compress and the 'normal' part of the room started to expand. She had feared it could end up looking as ordinary as mamá's, all the magic gone for some inexplicable reason; but the changes stabilized after getting married, and it had remained the same for the last fifteen years, just as if they had a misty back garden inside the very bedroom.  
Pepa reached the middle of the clearing and sat down cross-legged, exhaling. Then she looked up and squinted. The clouds twirled again, reacting to her presence, gathering above her as sheep responding to their shepherd's voice. She was below the eye of the storm.
Well, you don't like me and I don't like you, so it'll be better for both of us if you just dissolve right now and leave me alone today.
Another distant thunder that sounded like a groan, and Pepa shook her head, tutting.
Ok, ok, I take it back. I know you love me, and I love you too, but this relationship couldn't work. You're too insistent, I'm a married woman…
A soft flash lighted the clouds, the phantom of a lightning that felt like a laugh, and Pepa gave it a half smile.
Yeah, yeah, I feel you, we both are so misunderstood, ah? I know what you want, but it can't be, my friend. I can't. You have to go.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the tension stuck on the back of her head. Breathing in, breathing out.
Remember how it used to be before, my friend?
Breathing in, breathing out.
Do you remember?
Silent, calm tears crossed her cheeks as she exhaled, releasing the tension. And the rain turned into a drizzle, calming down too.
Bruno loved the drizzle's rumor.
Dammit.
Pepa frowned, trying to keep her mind at ease, but the thought was still there, burning like a drop of boiled water.
They should have slept together last night. Ok, she couldn't asked Juli to leave her daughter alone in a moment like that, but maybe… maybe she should have asked Félix to take Camilo to his room and sleep there with him, so she could have dragged Bruno here with her. He would have protested and argued, and she would have probably had to threaten him, but she would have managed, and they would have cuddled under the rain, and Bruno would've spent half night babbling about the fragile fabric of the universe or the space-time or some shit like that, and she would've dozed off at his nonsenses, but he could have unburdened himself and he would have woken up now feeling a lot better.
Isolation played very dangerous tricks to his mind. It had always been like that, and the fact he refused to acknowledge it pissed her off madly. Being alone was the last thing he should do when he was feeling overwhelmed by a problem, and he was old enough to know that much. Everything seemed far bigger and more terrible when it was trapped inside his head, twirling like her clouds. He needed to let it out, just as much as he needed to project his visions. Pepa knew from her own experience the drawbacks of trying to handle alone emotions too heavy for one's strength, and they had talked about it a million times.
But lately, calming the kids topped calming Bruno. Their responsibilities in town topped calming Bruno. Dealing with their own struggles topped calming Bruno. Everything seemed to top calming Bruno. And he was retreating more and more, turning himself inaccessible. What had happened last night had left her clear that things were getting out of hand. They shouldn't have allowed it to get so far. Something seemed to have happened at some point over the last year, some kind of turning point for him that had blown up his resistance for good, or perhaps all the repressed pressure had reached its limit naturally, or who knows. Whatever was the reason, it needed to be addressed once and for all. Now more than ever, because their life was going to change for sure after Mira's fiasco, and they needed to be ready.
Pepa wondered if she could convince him to take a walk to talk, after they resolved the vision thing. It had been months since the last time they could have a decent talk, and that time Bruno had been the one who approached her to comfort her. She had to do the same for him now. She had tried again last night, before bed, taking advantage of the relaxing effects of Julieta's chocolate, even if the prospect of success had been far from promising. After leaving the kitchen and sending the girls to their rooms, she had climbed those stupid stairs to his door and knocked softly, determined to be conciliatory.
"Bruno," she had called him, "listen, I… I'm sorry about before, ok? I lost my temper. As always." She snorted in surrender, rubbing her hands against her skirt. "Juli made chocolate for everyone, I convinced her to save a mug for you. Come down and let's talk, would you?"
There wasn't any answer. Frowning, Pepa put her ear to the door, but she didn't hear anything inside. Rooms were like independent universes; whatever happened there, it would be impossible to be heard outside if doors and windows were close. Even Dolores had to make a conscious effort to catch a clear signal of any sound inside them. Pursing her lips, Pepa knocked again, more insistent.
"Bruno, don't be ridiculous, you're a grown up man, not a five years old." More silence, and her frown deepened. "You better not be in there ignoring me, because you know I hate it and I'm gonna punch you." Silence again, and then Pepa grabbed the doorknob to go in. But when she tried to turn it, it didn't move. The door was blocked, and something really cold wrapped her heart in a blink, leaving her shocked. Bruno never, never blocked his door. It was like a 'go away' thrown to her face, a real punch in the guts. She stood there like a fool, staring blankly at the glowing depiction of her brother carved into the door, as if it could offer her some explanation about that nonsense.
"Perhaps he's in the cave, amor," Félix suggested from the bottom of the stairs, where he was waiting her while holding a sleepy Camilo, who couldn't stop yawning and rubbing his eyes.
Pepa kept looking the glowing fortuneteller in the eye for a moment, till her own sight got a bit blurry. You better not, she warned him, and then twitched her mouth and butted his wooden face, frustration and worry tangling in her chest.
"I hope he isn't," she murmured, as she went back down to join her husband. "Though… sometimes he goes up there to be alone and meditate and do that kind of things he does to calm down."
Since Camilo was resting his head on his father's shoulder, Félix seized the chance to cover his ear and whisper, "Getting drunk and smoking herbs, you mean?"
Pepa shot him a deadpan look, but she couldn't help a little smile at the old joke. "Sure, because Bruno loves getting drunk and smoking herbs, ah? I'm sorry, mi amor, but the only one in this family who really fits that imagen is…" she covered her mouth and lowered her voice even more, "… me."
Félix bit back a burst of laughter. "Oh, yeah, I remember your 'wild phase'."
Pepa elbowed him and rolled her eyes, but felt grateful anyway for his attempt to lighten the mood, even if laughing and joking seemed deeply inappropriate that night. When Bruno and she were younger, a lot of their fellows —some good-naturedly, some others not— had started teasing them with comments like that, due to the histrionic demeanor they had developed over their late teens and early twenties because of the effects of their gifts. Both of them found it ridiculously hilarious, since Pepa had been strictly forbidden to try a single drop of alcohol, and Bruno's headaches and weak stomach had left him unable to tolerate any hangover, so he was almost wholly teetotaler too. They turned it into a salty inner joke between them, however; sometimes, they acted even more crazily on purpose to mock people. But they had to stop when mamá got mad at them for taking lightly something like that. She thought it was a sick joke. It seemed they couldn't afford joking about their own issues on their own terms either.
"If I could've ever afforded anything like a wild phase, this place wouldn't exist anymore," she sighed tiredly. "And neither could Bruno. You know he hates anything that could mess up his mind even more, those things just worsen his migraines."
"To be totally honest, mi vida, I rather imagine Bruno up there drinking chicha than doing that wicked vision."
They were already heading to their rooms, but those words made her stop short, as if some invisible force had tied her feet to the floor. She looked at him, eyes wide in alarm, and Félix's soft smile dropped. Exhaling a deep sigh, he offered her his free hand. "Come on, Pepi. Don't worry about it, we can't do anything now. We'll deal with it in the morning."
And, biting her lip, she just nodded and took his hand.
But the idea of Bruno doing that damn vision all alone in the middle of the night had kept hunting her. She had fallen asleep reciting a litany of 'don't do anything stupid, please, don't do anything stupid'. And if it hadn't been for the magic chocolate, she wouldn't have probably slept a wink.
She had to talk with him. She would do it today, no more delaying. Today.
A soft kiss on her shoulder brought her back to reality, and she turned to find Félix kneeling at her side, greeting her with a sleepy smile. "Buenos días."
She smiled back, wiping her tears. "Buenos días."
"Want some company, miss?"
"I don't know, sir… Won't your wife get mad at you for accompanying lonely women all around?"
"Oh, nah, don't worry about that. My wife knows perfectly my heart only belongs to her." And he placed a solemn hand on his chest.
Pepa suppressed a chuckle and her smile widened. "Lucky her."
"Lucky me," he intoned with a wink, and she couldn't help a giggle, more typical of a schoolgirl than a grown up woman. The movement of the clouds changed, like smoke fishes swimming on a pond. Félix glanced at them, while he took a seat behind Pepa to wrap her in his arms, and chuckled as if he had heard their wordless voice. "Yeah, yeah, buenos días to you too, old friend," he added, amused.
And Pepa just stared at him for a moment, her lips pressed together to hold back the wave of emotion, thinking —like every day since they got together— that even with her long list of failures burdening her, she was indeed a lucky woman. She was lucky to have him by her side.
Besides Bruno and Juli, Félix was the only one who really understood how her gift worked. He knew it wasn't as simple as repressing the storm as if it was a thing she could lock into a box and forget about it. The storm was alive too. It was like a wild, sentient being bonded to her, demanding respect and recognition; she could try taming it, and it could decide to bow to her command, but their relationship was always a 'take and give', a constant negotiation between her will and the force of the nature. Sometimes, she was the winner; sometimes, the storm won. Few people understood how complicated keeping the balance was, how draining and unsettling. The storm was always lurking, restless and hungry, waiting to feed on her emotions to grow bigger and set free. A calm mood was the only thing that pacified —sedated— it. And Pepa's spirits were usually far from calm.
It hadn't always been like that, however. A long time ago, they had had a healthier bond. They loved each other, they were friends and companions. She had fed on the storm as much as it fed on her, and both of them were happier. But that had changed over the years, too, as she got older.
When you tried to bottle up your feelings, they tended to rot.
Leaning on her husband's chest and resting her head on his shoulder, Pepa let out a deep breath and snuggled up to him. Félix tightened the hug.
"Still worry?"
"None of Juli's magic beverage makes one's worries disappear yet," she answered softly. "And I've got the feeling it's gonna be a long day."
He nodded. "It's gonna be a long day. But rest for now, amor. I've got you."
Félix kissed her temple, her cheek and her mouth. She received all the love with a grateful sigh. And they stayed there together, holding and being held, till the storm turned into a fluffy mass of white, harmless clouds.
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albertasunrise · 4 years ago
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No More - Chapter 4
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Summary: Frankie has been your best friend since you were in the 2nd grade. You were each other’s first’s, he, your first love and as you’d both gotten older you always somehow fell into bed together after one too many drinks with the boys. You don’t know how much longer you can keep this up but fate has other plans for you both and events are set in motion to decide for you.
Warnings: Angst, Bitch Ex, Fluff
Pairings: Frankie/ Reader
~
Frankie’s recovery was slow. His physio was extensive after having to have his left leg reconstructed and it meant it took him some weeks to build up the muscle strength in it again. He was on a concoction of drugs, pain and antibiotics, after he’d had to have his kidney and his spleen removed. The Millers had temporarily moved in with Frankie to take care of him when he was let out of the hospital and you’d gone around almost every evening so that he could spend time with Emma. You’d been shocked how quickly he’d taken to becoming a father, desperate to do anything to help that was within his capabilities. As time went on and he was well on the way to recovery he started to take more and more on, relishing being able to feed her, bath her and sing her to sleep. Neither of you though discussed the situation between the two of you. He’d not pushed the subject again, despite how desperate he was to confess how he felt but he knew that he had to prove himself and so he started with Emma.
‘So... I wondered if you had any plans this weekend.’ He says suddenly, pulling you from your book.
‘What do you mean?’ You ask as you turn your head to look at him, smiling as he bounces his smiley daughter on his knee.
‘Well, the doc said it’s important for me to be moving around and walking about.’ He starts, pulling a face at Emma and making her giggle ‘The weather is supposed to be really good this weekend. Thought maybe we could take Emma to the zoo.’
It had been four months since the accident. Frankie was able to walk unaided now and had been taking regular walks, often to get Emma to sleep as she always dosed off in her pram after she ate. He had really thrown himself headfirst into fatherhood and you’d noticed. A few times you’d seen him crying as you left for the night, his shoulders shaking as he tried to fight back the tears as he watched you leave. He’d received a monumental payout from the accident. Turned out the guy who had hit him was a multimillionaire and had paid Frankie a massive fee not to take him to court. He’s sad down with you, asked you what you thought and you’d appreciated him doing that, ultimately telling him to take the deal.
‘Yeah, that sounds like a wonderful idea.’ You reply as you smile at your daughter, her arms waving in delight at the attention she's getting from her parents.
‘I wanted to show you something.’ He said as he pulled her against his chest and stood up, holding his hand out to help you to your feet.
‘What?’ You ask as he leads up up the stairs.
A sense of Deja Vu washes over you as you walk up the stairs of his childhood home, eyes scanning over the photos that hung on the wall and smiling at the ones of you and him as children, the ones of his parents and now taking pride of place, Emma. He stops beside the door that had once been your bedroom, pushing it open and motioning for you to look as he bounces the baby in his arms. You look at him suspiciously as you take ginger steps towards the doorway, eyes growing wide with what greets you. The room had been completely transformed. The walls had been painted a subtle pink and a whitewashed Crib sat proudly to the middle of the wall on your right with a changing table sat opposite that was painted in a similar finish. Piled neatly in the corner were several stuffed toys and sat underneath the window was a chest that you recognised. It had been yours when you were a kid and you’d moved it with you when Frankie’s parents had taken you in. It was unchanged, just lovingly restored and when you walked over to it and carefully lifted the lid you sobbed when you saw the toys you’d kept inside are still there.
‘Thought maybe you might want to give them to Emma.’ He states as he takes a step inside, smiling against Emma’s cheek as she rests her face against his lips.
You close the lid and continue to scan your surroundings, smiling at the artwork that hangs on the walls and the mobile above the cot.
‘Do you like it?’ He asks, a little nervous at your continued silence.
‘I love it.’ You reply as you finally look at him, your smile spreading from ear to ear ‘When did you do all this?’
‘Well, I had some time on my hands.’ He chuckles ‘The guys helped me with it but I wanted to get something together for her.’ You nod as you watch Emma look around ‘There’s one more thing.’
You give him a bemused look, following him out of the nursery and down the hall to what you knew to be the spare room. This room was also different although in more subtle ways. There was a desk set up in the corner that adorned a large monitor and other computing equipment and in the far corner stood a tall mirror with an elegant wardroom and dresser beside it.
‘What is this?’ You ask, turning your head to look at him.
‘It kills me every night when you take her.’ He starts, the pain evident in his expression ‘I thought maybe if you had somewhere you could sleep, that some nights she can stay here. I know that you’re not comfortable leaving her yet so this way you don’t have to. This way I can help with night feeds and breakfast time.’
‘Frankie-‘
‘Please. Before you say no. At least think about it.’ He begs ‘I’m not asking you to move in here or anything. I’m just asking you to give me a chance to help more. I’ve even set a desk up so that you can work here and I can take care of her during the day. I’m not going to be able to work for a while so why not be a stay at home dad. The payout means I’m financially sound for a while.’
‘Frankie. I wasn’t going to say no.’ You chuckle, taking a few ginger steps towards him ‘I think this is a great idea.’
‘You do?’
‘I do.’ You reply, smiling at the goofy grin that spreads across his face.
‘Great!.’
~
‘What do you think she’ll want to see first?’ Exclaims Frankie excitedly ‘I think the penguins!’
‘Frank she’s 4 months old.’ You giggle ‘She’ll probably poop and fall asleep.’
You can’t help but love how excited he is about this day trip. He was insistent on wearing the baby carrier so that he could show her call the animals. You’d been concerned that his leg might struggle but he said he was fine. So here you are, him with a giggly Emma strapped to his chest and you with the buggy, pushing around the armoury of items that babies apparently require.
‘Oh look the penguins are this way.’ He says, practically skipping and you can’t help but chuckle at his excitement.
Sure enough, Emma is mesmerised by them, watching them swim with comically wide eyes as her little hands wave around as if desperately trying to pet them. The two of you coo at her as she laughs and wiggles with glee as one penguin seems to take a particular interest in her, smiling when she squeals at him waving his wing at her.
‘I think you made a new friend baby girl.’ He says sweetly as he places a kiss on the top of her head.
‘You have got to be kidding me.’ Comes a voice, pulling you both out of your family moment.
You and Frankie turn to see Emily stood across from you, arms crossed and her face red with rage.
‘So her brat is yours then?’ She spits, venom dripping from every word.
‘Emily-‘
‘This is hilarious. You cheat on me with her and knock her up in the process.’ She scoffs, eyeing Emma angrily ‘Poor kid. Having a dad like you.’
‘Don’t you dare speak to him like that!’ You growl, taking a step forward ‘He’s an amazing father to Emma. He went through hell four months ago but despite that he has gone over and above to show her how loved she is.’
‘Hell huh?’ She tuts as she tilts her head to the side ‘Fall of the bandwagon again did you Fish?'
‘His car got t-boned and he almost died actually.’ You state, taking pleasure in the shock that spreads across her face. ‘Lost a kidney and his spleen. Had to have his leg reconstructed and went through months of painful physio so that he could walk again and yet he still bathed her, fed her. Despite the pain, he was in. So he’s an incredible father and I’m just glad I was able to give him the chance to prove that…’
'Unlike you’
The guilt that flooded her features only inflated the satisfaction you feel in taking her down a peg. You could see her brain working, trying to find a comeback but struggling.
‘Why she so small?’ She finally says ‘You get on it whilst knocked up?’
‘I was in the car with him.’ You growl ‘Accident brought on an early labour and she ended up being a month premature.’
Her face paled at your statement but you felt no satisfaction now. She’d brought your daughter into this feud. She’d made it personal. She stood there for a moment, mouth opening and closing as she thought of what to say but in the end, she turned around and practically sprinted out of view, leaving you seething in silence.
‘You okay?’ Frankie asks finally as he places a friendly hand on your arm.
‘Yeah.’ You reply as you turn and smile at him ‘Yeah I'm fine.’
‘Thank you.’ He says, and you give him a confused look ‘For sticking up for me. I really hope that I’ll be a good dad to Emma.’
‘Frankie I meant every word.’ You state, your expression serious ‘You are an amazing father to Emma. She’s so lucky to have you.’
You see his cheeks pink at that, giving you a little nod as he places another kiss on his daughters head in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.
‘Shall we go see the giraffes Bean?’ You ask as you stroke Emma’s cheek with your finger, giggling when she squeals in reply ‘Take that as a yes.’
‘Do you want to carry her for a bit?’ Asks Frankie as he watches you with her ‘I’ll push the pram.’
‘No, it's fine.’ You reply, smiling sweetly at him ‘I like watching you with her.’
Emma loved the giraffes even more. She wriggled like crazy as her hands grabbed at the docile creatures. One of the keepers had noticed her reaction and invited you over for snack time. You filmed on your phone whilst Frankie held his hand flat so the giraffe can eat the snack the zookeeper has given him and you desperately try to stifle your laugh when the creature's large blue tongue sloppily licks it out of his hand. Emma squeals with excitement at how close it had gotten but she quietened down when it lowered its head to inspect her, the keeper telling Frankie that it is okay to pet him. You couldn’t believe your eyes as you watch Emma, very gently, pet the giraffe's snout and you found yourself tearing up as your eyes lock with Frankie’s, the two of you amazed at how in tune she is with the creature. The keeper organised for the three of you to stop in on feeding time for a load of other animals, Frankie being particularly excited about the lions. You both stood there in awe of their majesty whilst Emma squeaks and squeals as she watches the cat pace in his cage ready for his food but she stops dead when one lioness starts to roar. The sound is so powerful it vibrates through you and you both look down at Emma, concerned that the sound will scare her. Instead, she is dead still, her eyes open as wide as they can go as she stares and the cat, her mouth slowly opening wider and wider. You both can't help but chuckle at her amazement and you share a loving glance sith each other, both in awe at how innocent she is.
Emma is fast asleep by the time you get back to the car and the two of you envy her. The day had proved to be an eventful one but one that you’d never forget. You’d Whatsapped the giraffe video to the boys and Benny had replied with several laughing emojis at Frankie's reaction.
New girlfriend Fish? He asked, and Will replied to that with a GIF of R2D2 falling flat on his face captioned DEAD.
Frankie just sent a middle finger emoji which elicited another flurry of amused responses.
‘Today was wonderful.’ You say sweetly as you buckle yourself in ‘Thank’s for suggesting it.’
‘I’m just sorry we bumped into her.’ He replies, his expression guilty.
‘No need.’ You reply as you press the start button for the car ‘She’s a bitch.’ You shrug before giving him a smile.
‘I wondered if maybe you’d like to get a pizza and stay tonight?’ He asks, changing the subject completely.
‘Sounds like a plan.’ You reply ‘Could murder a stuffed crust pepperoni.’
‘God yes.’ He replies ‘That’s why I love you.,’
You freeze at his exclamation and so does he, the two of you looking away awkwardly. You focus on the road whilst he looks in the back to check on Emma, smiling at her little feet twitching as she sleeps. He inwardly scolds himself for his slip. That’s not how he wanted to tell you. He just hoped you hadn't taken it so literally. When you pull into his drive you turn your head to see Emma starting to stir, her face scrunching as she yawns and her mouth forms an adorable O.
‘I’m just going to dash to the house and get some fresh clothes for me and her.’ You say as you turn to look at Frankie.
‘I’ll get her fed and watered then.’ He jokes ‘I’ll order the pizza too. Pepperoni yeah?
‘And stuffed crust.’ You clarify ‘Forget the stuffed crust and I’ll never forgive you.’
‘You’ve got it!.’ He replies with a small salute.
Hopping out of the car he grabs the baby from her seat and carries her inside, bouncing her in his arms as he grabs a bottle from the fridge and places it in the bottle warmer. Emma is more awake now and tugging insistently at the collar of his shirt.
‘Did you have a good day baby girl?’ He asks sweetly as he looks down at his daughter, smiling when she squeals in reply ‘So how is daddy going to woo mummy hmm?’ He asks her ‘How am I going to prove to mummy how in love with her I am?’
She just stares up at him with her big brown eyes, her lips pursing as she starts to blow raspberries at him.
'Should have known I wouldn't get a serious answer out of you.' He chuckles as the timer on the warmer dings to let him know the bottles done 'Right you hungry Bebé niña?'
She suckles eagerly on her bottle, eyes comically wide as her hands grab at it. He watches lovingly as he feeds her, unable to contemplate how one can love someone as much as he loves her. He'd known the moment he looked at her that she was his and he'd never been happier in his life. He found he couldn't be angry at you for keeping it from him. He'd not exactly given you a reason to but he was glad that you had in the end. That he now had the chance to be a father to this angel in his arms.
~
‘This pizza is heaven!.’ You say, rubbing your belly as you sink back into the couch.
‘Good.’ He replies as he turns his head to look at you ‘Gino does make the best pizza in town.’
‘Well, I’d agree with that statement!.’ You say as you smile at him.
The two of you share a lingering look. You can feel your heart speeding up when his hand brushes yours. His eyes drop to your lips before returning your gaze again and you find yourself leaning in, his hand suddenly resting on your hip as your lips brush against his. Then... Screams.
‘I’ll get her.’ You say as you roll your eyes and smirk at him, sprinting up the stairs to tend to a wailing Emma.
‘Thanks a lot, baby girl.’ Frankie grumbles as he scrubs his hand over his face ‘So close.’ He finishes as his head falls back against the couch.
~
Chapter 5
50 notes · View notes
thathopelessromantic · 3 years ago
Text
Reckless Good (4/?)
Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia
Fic Rating: Explicit
Chapter Rating: Teen+ (some implied mature themes)
Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku
Note: Thank you all again for being so wonderful <3 And I hope you all can enjoy the extra momojirou content in this chapter
Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.
The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family’s history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.
But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he’ll finally get some answers.
AO3: (x) Chapter One: (x) Chapter Two: (x) Chapter Three: (x)
Friday morning does not bring Shouto any more clarity regarding Midoriya’s email or his list. He spent most of the previous night going over the items on the list, trying to come up with answers for the questions and topics included in it, and feeling inexplicably like he was failing some kind of test. Somehow, U.A. did not prepare him for this part of heroics.
Momo gave him very severe instructions to not do anything work related, but in less than a day he grew stir crazy in his apartment with nothing to do but think about the attack from a few days ago and agonize over how little he can apparently say about his own quirk. So he leaves in the morning in his usual half-assed civilian disguise. He’s supposed to have dinner with Momo and Kyouka later that night, but he needs a distraction until then, so hopefully wasting time around town will suffice.
Shouto isn’t sure how, but his wandering brings him to the Musutafu University campus. The sprawling buildings don’t seem quite so confusing this time around, though he barely has any better idea of how to get around. He wanders the campus for a while, observing the students, there seem to be less of them than earlier in the week, and trying to make some better sense of the layout. The area grows a little more familiar as he reaches the building where he met with Midoriya. He didn’t check the schedule the professor gave him before venturing this way, but it’s roughly the same time they met before so he takes a risk and heads up to his office.
The building is quieter than before, echoing the rest of campus emptying for the upcoming weekend. The bulletin board by the door is just as full, however. He takes the stairs up to the third floor to Midoriya’s office. The door, still just as chaotic, covered in posters and stickers and Shouto’s own young face staring up at him is closed and locked, the lights off inside the office. It was a slim chance that the professor would be in his office again at the same time, he supposes, but now that he’s here and Midoriya isn’t, Shouto’s at a loss for what to do or even what he’s doing there. He loiters in front of the door for a few minutes, as if by sheer will he might force it open and the professor to appear, before he wanders down the hall. A few doors down, there’s a wide office space, enclosed by large glass windows, with openings every few feet. The secretary from the other day – Ko-something. Koyama? Kobayashi? – is sitting behind one of the openings at a desk, typing rapidly at a computer.
Shouto debates with himself for a moment before he approaches the window, clearing his throat to get her attention. She turns in surprise at the sound. Her pale lavender hair is still piled high in a complicated bun at the top of her head, but she’s also wearing a pair of thin, half-moon glasses perched just so on her nose for two of her six eyes to be able to see through them.
“Entropy?” She asks, as if not sure she’s seeing him correctly. “Can I help you with something? You didn’t have another meeting with Dr. Midoriya, did you?”
Shouto almost says yes, but he remembers the disapproving look she gave Midoriya after the desk incident and figures he shouldn’t get the professor in any more trouble with his secretary by lying about some forgotten meeting or something.
“Nothing planned. I was just hoping to speak with him again if I could, but it doesn’t look like he’s in his office.”
“No, he wouldn’t be. Dr. Midoriya has a class at this time.”
That grabs his attention. “Really? Where?”
Kobayashi raises a suspicious brow at him, but Shouto will not be deterred.  Kobayashi stares at him for a few more moments before turning back to her computer. She opens a few documents, clicking through pages and charts that flash by too quickly for Shouto to make any sense of. Finding whatever it is she’s looking for, she pulls out a bright purple sticky note and writes out a building and room number for him in neat script.
“That’s where his Friday lecture is. There’s just under an hour left.”
“Thank you.” Shouto takes the sticky note appreciatively.
She waves him off, clearly unimpressed or uninterested or both. He wonders how many times heroes have come to talk to Midoriya that she’s completely unmoved by their presence at the university. Unless she just never cared about heroes at all, which would be an equally interesting pairing as a secretary for the seemingly hero-obsessed professor.
It still takes Shouto longer than he would have liked to find the building she wrote down, but the name sounds vaguely familiar so he’s pretty sure its one he’s passed in his previous wanderings, which helped. The rooms inside the building are all spaced far apart, large lecture halls rather than normal classrooms, and it feels like he has been walking through the halls for ages but only passed three or four doors before he finally finds the room she specified.
The closed door muffles sound surprisingly well, so he has to hope he’s in the right place, and that she didn’t intentionally steer him wrong, as he cracks open the door to peer in. Thankfully, the door he’s come across opens to the back of the lecture hall, so he’s mostly unnoticed as he slips in and hangs against the back wall. The room is surprisingly full for an early morning Friday lecture, and it takes him a moment to find an open seat near the back that doesn’t require him to crawl over any other students.
Midoriya is at the front of the room, his back to the room as he writes across the large white board against the wall. There are already extensive notes made in the same small frantic handwriting Shouto saw in his notebooks, while a video plays on the projector screen besides him. It takes Shouto a few minutes to realize the video is a recording of a villain fight, too distracted following the shifting muscles of the professor’s broad back as he writes across the board and trying to make out the notes without any other context, but once he’s realized what it is that’s playing Shouto finds himself equally as interested in the fight. Based on the costumes, Shouto is fairly certain the hero in the fight is Lemillion, but he’s never seen this particular fight before. He doesn’t recognize the villain he’s fighting and he has absolutely no idea where this shaky footage would have come from.
Midoriya finally turns back to face the room. His sharp green eyes scan over the room, and Shouto can feel the exact moment they land on him, picking him out of the crowd of eager faces and recognizing him as someone or something out of place. Midoriya only hesitates on him for a moment before he continues scanning the room.
“Okay, does anyone else have any observations from the fight?”
A few more hands shoot up around the room. One by one, Midoriya calls on the students, writing up their observations on the video up on the board with the other notes. Once everyone has had a chance to say their part, he steps back and takes a look at the board. There’s barely an open space for more writing as it is, but when Midoriya nods and declares it a “pretty good start” the class only laughs, rather than arguing. Shouto wants to see what Midoriya’s own observations of the fight would be.
“Now,” Midoriya pulls another white board on wheels to the middle of the room, placing it in front of the filled one. “What do we still not know? That our observations alone can’t tell us?”
The pause before people try to answer is considerably longer after his newest question. Finally, someone hesitantly raises a hand to answer. “We still don’t know what the villain’s quirk is. We’ve only seen how it works against Lemillion in this particular fight.”
Midoriya beams at the student. “Right,” He writes the answer on the board. “There’s no guarantee of what we’ve seen here is the extent of their power. We can also only assume at this point how their quirk works or what limitations they might have. What else?”
A few more hesitant hands go up. Midoriya calls on them all, writing up their suggestions as they come, elaborating on many of them as they come in. He calls a few more times for more suggestions but the replies peter out much sooner than their observations. Finally, when no one else raises a hand, Midoriay comes around to the otherwise ignored desk and leans against it to face the room properly.
“No one said anything about the hero.” He points out, calmly. Shouto is surprised that he didn’t realize this fact until it’s called out either.
“But everyone knows what the number one hero’s quirk is,” someone calls from the back. There’s a sound of agreement that goes through the room.
“Do you really?” Midoriya tilts his head to the side, considering. “He’s the permeation hero, right? His quirk is called permeation, but what else do you know about it?”
When no one jumps in with more information, Midoriya calls on someone. “Do you know how Lemillion activates his quirk? Or how he stops using it?”
The student shakes their head nervously. Midoriya smiles kindly, going back to the board and writing that under the last student observation. He calls on someone else in the room. “Is there any part of Lemillion where his quirk doesn’t work?”
The second student doesn’t have an answer either.
“The answer to that is no, actually,” Midoriya informs them. “But just from this fight, we can’t confirm that. So it’s important to note it. Lemillion has an advantage on a lot of opponents because he moves so fast, they can’t keep track of him. If there was some part of his body not affected by his quirk, that could easily be hidden by his quick movements.”
Midoriya writes it on the board too, even though he’s answered his own question. He picks someone else in the room, and it takes Shouto a moment to realize Midoriya is pointing at him.
“Do we know if there is a disadvantage or limit to his quirk that might affect this fight?”
“Any limits or disadvantages Lemillion might have to his quirk will affect every fight he has, though some situations could make those disadvantages worse, or add to his limits.” Shouto answers carefully, thinking back to his own limits and the years of Aizawa drilling it into their heads to be aware of their own limitations in a fight.
A few students turn to look at him as he talks, and he recognizes three girls in the front row from his first time on campus. They recognize him a moment later, hitting each others’ arms and whispering amongst themselves. A few others seem to catch on, but Midoriya doesn’t leave enough time for them to get distracted.
“True,” Midoriya turns back to his white board to add more notes. “Do we know any of those limitations from this fight?”
There are still a few hushed whispers going around the room, and Shouto notices a few students pull out their phones, but the discussion continues mostly the same until the class ends.
Midoriya dismisses the class a few minutes late, but still only about half the class filters out of the room immediately. The rest gather at the front of the room, surrounding their professor and peppering him with more questions about the lesson and homework and just general hero related questions, at least so far as Shouto can figure from what he overhears. Shouto stays mostly hidden in the back of the room until all the students have actually made their way out of the classroom, though a few brave students stop to say something or ask for an autograph. It’s nice to see how they flock to the professor with something almost akin to hero-worship. The three girls from earlier in the week wave goodbye to him as they leave.
Midoriya starts to clean up as Shouto comes down the stairs to join him at the front of the room.
“So what did they miss?”
Midoriya freezes, glancing up at him as if he had forgotten Shouto was still there.
“What?”
“In the analysis of the fight. What’s something they missed?”
Midoriya glances back at the projector screen where the paused video is still visible. “There’s a crack in the far corner of the room.” Shouto follows the professor’s hand to the ceiling in the video where he can see the faint lines of the concrete breaking. “It’s not structurally sound any more, so Lemillion can’t phase through it safely. But if he can shake the building enough for it actually crumble while he’s got the villain in that corner, the destruction could do some serious damage to his opponent that he could avoid by using his quirk. A lot of this fight was dragged out by the two of them trying to corner each other there, each aware of the other’s weakness.”
Shouto tries to remember what he saw of the movement of the fight and align it to what the professor is saying.
“And how many times have you analyzed this particular fight?”
Midoriya laughs. “Just once, in class today. And I watched it before to make sure there wasn’t anything too revealing about either hero or villain, or too graphic to show students, so maybe one and a half times. But I always like to show them new fights. I catch a lot, but there are always students who surprise me and catch things I haven’t thought about. I’ll go home and actually analyze it later though.”
Midoriya finishes closing down the programs and restarting the computer. He takes a picture of the notes on both of the boards before he begins to erase them. Shouto grabs an eraser to help him clear off the boards.
“I was surprised to see you here,” Midoriya says. “I didn’t realize you attended the open lectures here.”
“I don’t.” Shouto shrugs, putting down the eraser. “I was actually just hoping to talk to you again.”
“Me?” Midoriya asks, seeming genuinely surprised, as if there was anyone else around for Shouto to talk to at this moment. “What for?”
“Your lecture series,” Shouto says easily, though he doesn’t think he really had an answer to that question right up until he answered. “I got your list of topics last night.”
“Was there anything wrong with it?”
“No. There was a lot on there I hadn’t even considered. After reading that I’m not sure how much I can even tell you about my quirk.”
Midoriya laughs, though he immediately covers his mouth to smother the sound when Shouto turns to look at him. “Sorry. Entropy-”
“Todoroki.” Shouto interrupts.
Midoriya’s eyes widen and he blinks in surprise. “What?”
“Just call me Todoroki. I’m not working.”
Midoriya looks like he wants to argue with him, but after a moment he nods hesitantly. “T-Todoroki, I’m sure you know more about your quirk than you think. You’re just not used to thinking of it in those terms.”
Shouto shrugs. “Maybe.” He hands off the eraser to Midoriya and the professor cleans them both off before placing them back where they belong.
Midoriya shakes his head. “I’m sure of it. But if you would feel more comfortable talking about it some more, we can. I have to take some of this back to my office, but I’m done with classes for the day after that.”
“Should we talk over lunch?”
Midoriya almost drops the papers he’s gathering. “L-lunch?”
“Sure, it’s just after noon. Lunch.”
Midoriya recovers from whatever shock he seemed to experience, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and shoving the rest of his things in the same leather bag he had the other day. “Right. Lunchtime. Sure.”
Shouto considers the professor as they make their way out of the room and back towards his office. He’s not sure what exactly about his suggestion of lunch threw the professor off so much, and he doesn’t seem inclined to let Shouto understand either.
Midoriya’s office looks roughly the same as Shouto remembered his first time visiting, though the desk in the middle is considerably less decorated than the first one. He recognizes some of the posters however.
“You’ve started redecorating.” He observes.
“Hm?” Midoriya looks around before he follows Shouto’s gaze to the desk. The lighting is still rather dim in the office, but Shouto swears Midoriya is blushing as he turns away. “Oh yes. Well, with what I could salvage before they got rid of the old desk. I’ll have to get more though, some things were ripped and can’t really go back up. And most of the stickers were just completely lost.”
“You seem to care about this stuff,” Shouto says, looking around the room. “Why put it somewhere when there’s a risk of it being destroyed like that?”
Midoriya sighs, running a hand over the corner of the desk. “After the first time I lost some posters to an…accident,” he says the word carefully as if he expects Shouto to call him out on what happened, or suggest it was anything besides an accident. “I tried not putting them up. But it was just too empty after that. And these things are meant to be hung and admired. I’d rather get some use out of it.” He points to one of posters of an old hero Shouto recognizes but can’t remember the name of. “And some of them, like this one, are gifts from students. I want them to know I appreciate the gifts they give me.”
Midoriya turns away, putting the papers away in his filing cabinet before he goes behind the desk and grabs a few of the notebooks from the bottom shelves, tucking them away in his bag. He turns back to Shouto with an almost nervous looking smile. “So, lunch?”
 They end up at Sato’s bakery, a short subway ride away from campus in the small café area he has in the back. Shouto already had to come this way to pick up the deserts he promised to Kyouka, and Midoriya assured him he was a fan of the food. Admittedly, Shouto had never tried anything off the lunch menu they offered, but he didn’t mind following Midoriya’s suggestions.
The café is painted in the same warm yellows and pinks of the bakery up front, but the walls are decorated with more pictures of food and serene naturescapes, rather than the class pictures and signed hero posters that adorned the bakery walls for those hero fans visiting just because it is Sugarman’s business.
A waitress who greets Midoriya by name comes by to take their order, though she spends half the time at their table chatting with the professor about a visit they got last week from Chargebolt, Pinky, and Cellophane that ended in a near-stampede of fans and Sato had to close early when they sold out of everything before noon.
“At least Sato’s classmates are good for business,” Midoriya says with a laugh as the waitress finishes her story.
She rolls her eyes and waves him off, though she smiles as she does it. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess. I’ll get those orders in for you guys right away.”
“You’re friends with Sato, too?” Shouto asks once they are alone again.
Midoriya wears the same deer-in-the-headlights look as when Shouto suggested lunch. “What? What do you mean ‘too’?”
“I’m fairly certain the first day we met Shinso was also coming to meet with you, you’re…very close with the hero doctor, Aizawa, and Sunspot told me after you took me to the hospital, one of Ingenium’s ‘friends’ had him escort her back to our office. That’s at least three pros.”
“I could have just been meeting with Shinso for the lecture series, same as you. Does that make us friends?”
Shout ignores the question. “There’s no way you would ask Shinso to be a part of the lecture series. You know too much about heroes to think an underground hero would participate in something so public. That also still doesn’t explain the other two. Two pro-hero friends is still more than most civilians would claim.”
Midoriya scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Well I’m not exactly a normal civilian. My work at the university and the hospital leads to me crossing paths with heroes pretty regularly. Eventually, we became friendly.”
Shouto remembers the proud disbelief of Shinso when they ran into each other the other day, and the protective way Dr. Aizawa talked about Midoriya, fielding Shouto’s questions, and thinks this picture of casual friendships of convenience he’s trying to portray is utter bullshit.
“So Sato’s the same? You just cross paths a lot?”
Midoriya looks even more embarrassed, shifting in his chair. “I guess. I don’t think we could really be considered friends, I just frequent the café and talk heroics with Sato when he’s in at the same time. We’re familiar with each other is all.”
Shouto doesn’t really believe the brush off of their relationship anymore than he did of the first three, but he lets it go for now.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, Shouto trying to figure out something about the professor sitting across from him, and Midoriya looking like he would like more than anything to disappear from the café. The same waitress delivers their food, dropping off an extra pastry neither of them ordered.
“Compliments of the owner,” she says to Midoriya with a wink.
Midoriya sinks further in his chair at Shouto’s arched look.
“Can we just talk about the list?” He asks.
Mercifully, Shouto pulls out his phone to look at the list again while they eat.
Once off the topic of Midoriya’s various pro-hero friends, he starts to open up again, elaborating on the different suggestions he had for the lecture series. He listens to Shouto’s questions carefully, considering each answer he gives as if Shouto is asking for answers about the truth of the universe and not just his own damn quirk. Most of the time he answers off the cuff, but occasionally Midoriya pulls out one of his notebooks and considers something scribbled in them before giving a definitive answer. Shouto sort of wonders how he finds anything among all the hectic writing.
They talk so long the waitress brings them both another dessert and drink, and so long after that the café lunch hours eventually end. Other than the occasional customer grabbing something from the bakery and the handful of employees left, they are the only ones still in the store.
Eventually the waitress herds them out of the café into the still-open bakery lobby. Midoriya apologizes at least a half dozen times, but she only waves him off with nothing more than a fond, exasperated look. They’re left alone in the bakery, save for the cashier who sends them a knowing look as they’re booted out of the café.
“I’m sorry,” Midoriya says with a short bow. “I should have known to go somewhere with longer hours when we were talking about quirks.”
Shouto doesn’t think he’s ever had something he cared enough about so strongly that he would need to plan extra time out for it, but he’s fascinated, and inexplicably, charmed by it. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. I needed to come by Sato’s anyways.” Midoriya relaxes besides him, a relieved smile passing over his features.
Shouto turns away before he stares too long, asking the cashier for the order he had called in the day before. Midoriya drifts away to look over the display case while they wait for the cashier to grab Shouto’s order from the back. She returns, opening the box so that he can confirm the order is correct.
“You didn’t strike me as having such a big sweet tooth,” Midoriya comments as she rings Shouto up.
“I don’t. It’s for Kyouka.” Shouto replies easily. He watches Midoriya’s face, can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure out who Shouto is talking about.
“Earphone Jack?” Midoriya finally guesses. “I didn’t really expect her to have such a big sweet tooth, either.”
Shouto shrugs. He had never really put much thought into it. He just knew Kyouka was almost as in love with Sato’s chocolate cake as she was with Momo. Though he doubts either of them would appreciate that comparison.
After Shouto is finished, Midoriya asks for a few things from behind the counter as well. Many of the selections have run out completely this late in the day, and a few options have only one or two items still left, but Midoriya still takes a while to make a decision, deliberating carefully over the limited selection.
He shoots Shouto another apologetic look as the cashier rings up his items. “I always get something for my mother when I visit Sato’s. She likes to try new things, but I think I’m finally running out of new options for her to try.”
Shouto nods his understanding, waving off Midoriya’s unspoken apology. He wonders if he should bring some of Sato's treats to his own mother the next time he visits. He usually brought her flowers, but she might like a small cake for a change.
The two leave the bakery and head back towards the subway. Midoriya easily fills the silence while they walk with more talk about quirks, quickly derailing his own train of thought part way through into a discussion of local heroes. Shouto gives a nod or makes a sound of acknowledgement where it seems appropriate, content to let Midoriya talk and absorb the barrage of information the professor seems to be overflowing with. He thinks it’s all going rather well until they reach the subway station entrance, and Midoriya stops in his tracks.
Shouto looks back in concern as the professor smacks himself in the forehead. His bag of pastries swings wildly for a moment, precariously close to smacking him in the face as well.
“Are you alright?”
“I just talked your ear off the entire walk, I’m so sorry. I’m sure you didn’t need to hear any of that. And what if you had more questions? I-”
“I didn’t mind,” Shouto interrupts. “Even if I didn’t ‘need’ to hear any of it. It was interesting.”
Midoriya lowers his hand and stares at him apprehensively. “You’re not just saying that just to be polite?”
“I never say things just to be polite.” Shouto says honestly.
Midoriya laughs, though Shouto isn’t sure exactly what about his statement warranted laughter, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “No, I guess you don’t seem the type to do that.”
Not sure how to reply to that, Shouto looks away. The timetable inside the station shows the next train should be arriving in a few minutes. They stand in silence for a moment before Shouto clears his throat.
“Thank you for taking the time to talk to me,” Shouto says at the exact same time Midoriya blurts out: “Would you like my phone number?”
They stare at each other for a moment, but Midoriya reacts first with a small wince. “I mean, you’re welcome. It wasn’t any trouble. Obviously I like to talk about the subject.”
“Your phone number?” Shouto asks, wondering if he somehow misheard.
Midoriya sighs. “I was just thinking it might be easier, than tracking me down in person, if you had any other questions. Or I guess it could just be easier to track me down in person again, too. If you could text or call. You don’t have to obviously, I know a hero’s personal number is important and private, for a reason. Which is why I offered just to give you mine. And if you did use it, I would never abuse-“
“How many personal numbers for pro-heroes do you know?”
Midoriya blinks in surprise a few times, startled. “I can’t tell you that. Wait, no. I mean-”
“I trust you.” Shouto pulls out his cell phone, passing it over to the still-dazed professor.
Midoriya takes it, but just stares down at the cell without moving.
“So you can put your contact information in,” Shouto reminds him carefully, as if he somehow forgot what a phone was in the midst of their conversation.
Midoriya moves again, finally, if only to give Shouto another disbelieving look. “I think you trust people too easily, Todoroki.”
“You suggested it.”
Despite appearing like he still wanted to argue the matter, Midoriya looks away from Shouto to open his phone and add his contact information. Shouto briefly worries there’s something embarrassing for him to come across as he unlocks the phone, before he remembers the last time Kyouka went through his phone and deemed it “utterly boring” while complaining about the lack of “potential blackmail material,” which he figures means it’s probably safe enough.
Midoriya returns his cell to him, just as the train begins to pull up to the station. Shouto hesitates getting on the train. He has no real reason to keep Midoriya for any longer, but he feels oddly reluctant to leave his company just yet. They stare at each other for a few moments in silence, as if waiting for the other to say something, but Shouto was never good at finding the right thing to say, and he was rapidly running out of time for Midoriya to say something if he wanted to catch this train.
“Thank you,” Midoriya finally blurts out. “For considering being a part of the Hero Talks series. Even if you ultimately decide not to join, I appreciate the consideration. And the opportunity to talk to you about your quirk.”
“Thanks for…wanting to talk about my quirk.”
Shouto steps through the subway doors. He turns just as they start to pull out of the station, and Midoriya is still standing there with a bemused smile on his face.
 X
Kyouka opens the door in leggings and a shirt Shouto is almost positive is Momo’s.
“You’re early.” She says as greeting, though it sounds more like an accusation.
Shouto holds up his package from the bakery. “I have cake.”
Appeased, she lets him into the house without any other complaint. Shouto slips off his shoes and follows her down the familiar entrance way towards the kitchen. Momo is standing over the stove stirring something. Her long hair is down for once, but she keeps brushing it out of her face with the back of her hand as she watches the pot intensely.
Shouto leans closer to Kyouka to whisper. “You’re letting her cook?”
“She wanted to try a new recipe.” Kyouka hisses back, elbowing him in the side. “Shut up.” She glances at him. “I was planning to order pizzas in like an hour.”
Shouto nods, satisfied with her answer. Kyouka rolls her eyes. Dropping the cake box on the counter, she abandons him in the doorway to join Momo at the stove. Momo jumps slightly as Kyouka touches her side, but she relaxes easily, smiling softly as Kyouka gathers her hair and pulls it back into a loose ponytail for her.
“Thank you,” Momo says quietly.
Kyouka stands on her tiptoes to kiss her cheek before she steps away. “Shouto’s here.”
“Oh!” Momo jumps again as she finally sees him in the door way. She blushes, as if embarrassed by their behavior, as if Shouto hasn’t been witness to their relationship since high school. “Shouto, hello. You’re early.”
Shouto shrugs. “I was in the neighborhood. I couldn’t keep sitting in my house.”
Momo makes a face. “I’m sorry. But it’s for your own good. You need to rest.”
“But I’m not even injured any more,” Shouto argues. “And I-”
Kyouka shoves a plate with a small slice of cake on it into his hands. “Eat this and stop arguing with her.”
Shouto doesn’t know how she moves so quick.
She goes to sit at the kitchen table with a plate of her own, a much larger slice of cake on her plate. Shouto joins her, if for nothing else to stop standing awkwardly in the doorway.
“Kyouka.” Momo scolds. “Before dinner? You need to eat something with more substance.”
“I need the sugar. Get my energy back up.” Kyouka says with a sly wink as she slides the first bite into her mouth.
Momo’s blush returns with a vengeance. “Kyouka! I-”
“You should probably eat some too,” Kyouka continues with a satisfied smile. “Don’t want you to be too worn out after our pre-dinner exercise.”
“Should I leave?” Shouto asks, interrupting their not-so-subtle flirting.
“No.” Momo says at the same time Kyouka says “Yes.”
They stare at each other for a few moments, having some kind of silent conversation. Kyouka gives in first with a dramatic sigh.
“Just eat your cake, Todoroki.”
Eventually, Momo decides whatever she is making can be left unsupervised and comes to join them at the table. She did, despite her arguments, take a piece of cake for herself, though it is significantly smaller than Kyouka’s slice. They talk about work, fill Shouto in on what he’s missed recently at the agency or from their old classmates and the cases they’ve been on. It fills the time and they lose track of themselves in the conversation.
Until Shouto notices something off.
“Is something burning?”
Momo shoots out of her chair, almost knocking it over in her rush, and darts over to the stove. Kyouka follows only a moment behind. Shouto turns to watch them turn off the burner and peek into the forgotten pot. The smell of something burning gets stronger. Momo drops her head in defeat.
“Not again.”
Kyouka rubs her back comfortingly with one hand, and pulls out her phone with the other. “How’s pizza sound?”
Momo nods in reluctant agreement, but doesn’t move from her slumped position.
Shouto clears the table of their empty plates while they’re distracted. He takes them to the sink, washing them off quickly and ignoring Momo’s half-hearted protests that he doesn’t need to clean up after them.
“Pizza will be here in twenty minutes.” Kyouka declares, interrupting Momo. “Let’s go sit in the living room until then, okay? Let this place air out a little.”
Shouto takes the hint and opens the window over the sink.
Kyouka nods her thanks to him before she ushers Momo out of the kitchen. Shouto starts to follow them, before he sees the cake box still open on the counter. He stops to close it, but hesitates. It seems a little impulsive, definitely silly and unnecessary, but he snaps a quick picture of the cake before he closes up the box.
He scrolls through his, limited, contacts until he finds the new listing. Midoriya Izuku. He drafts a new message to him with the picture attached.
kyouka couldnt wait until after dinner so it was our appetizer
Shouto sends the message before he can second guess himself, and leaves the kitchen. It’s just an easy way to make sure the professor gets his number is all, since they didn’t actually exchange them. Nothing weird about it.
Kyouka and Momo have already made themselves comfortable on the couch, though they’ve left room for him on the opposite end. Just as he sits down with them, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He just barely resists the urge to grab it immediately.
“Movie?” Kyouka suggests. “Or the same show we were watching from last time?”
“We could watch an episode before the pizza gets here,” Shouto answers, though he can’t clearly remember what it even was that they watched the last time he was over. “Change it after if we want to.”
Momo agrees easily, obviously still thinking more about her cooking disaster than what they’re putting on for entertainment, so Kyouka starts up the new episode. Shouto waits for the opening to finish before he slides his phone out of his pocket, ever so discreetly. Kyouka and Momo already seem more invested in each other than him or the TV show, so he deems it safe and unlocks his phone.
There’s one new message from Midoriya.
‘Our appetizer’? I thought you didn’t have a sweet tooth.
Shouto replies right away, before he can second guess his reply or his eagerness to reply. i can indulge sometimes
A moment later Midoriya replies again, this time with an attachment. It’s a picture of one of the pastries he purchased on a small plate. He’s at a table with someone, part of their profile in the picture alongside the treat. Shouto can’t make out much except for a pink shirt and dark hair the exact same shade as Midoriya’s.
The text below it reads, Mom and I couldn’t wait either.
Shouto smiles, unbidden, before he locks his phone and shoves it back into his pocket. Kyouka and Momo still seem distracted, but he forces himself to focus on the television. They’d never let it go if they caught him smiling at his phone of all things. And he has a feeling they’ll probably want a recap of what’s been happening, so he’d better have some idea of what the episode was actually about.
They get through most of the episode before the pizza gets there and then three more as they eat, giving up switching to a movie. But if Shouto’s being completely honest, not that he would be if asked, he has only a vague idea of what happened in any of the episodes. He did, however, draft three potential new texts in his head to send Midoriya later.
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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years ago
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Omg congratulations!! If you’re not busy being an amazing writer, would you write 88+107 for Akaashi Keiji? Congratulations again!!
wjgskjsh that was very smooth anon i am absolutely flustered by that compliment hahaha. here it is and i hope you like it!
Akaashi + 88 + 107
88. “Where have you been all my life?”
107. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were trying to flirt by giving me books.”
“Sorry I’m late,” you panted, leaning against the wall to catch your breath. “I missed the bus and ran after it for a bit before giving up and waiting for the next one.”
“It’s no problem,” Akaashi smiled and straightened the hair clip dangling from a loose piece of your hair. “I mean, you’re always late.” 
“And you’re still not sick of me,” you grinned up at the boy you had pretty much grown up with in the same neighborhood since you were kids. Akaashi Keiji. The boy who always waited for you even though you were almost always late. The boy who always carried spare change around in case you wanted some strawberry milk to drink on the way home. The one who was there throughout all your teenage obsessions and phases and only brought them up to make fun of them once in a while. The one who had your heart from the very beginning. 
“Not in the slightest,” he shook his head. Akaashi always said that, and yet it made you wonder if he seriously meant it. ‘Surely, he’d get sick of being around the same person for so long,’ you sometimes wondered. You knew very well that Akaashi was very honest with whatever he said, but he was also someone who didn’t want to disappoint people.
“I brought you coffee. As a consolation,” you smiled, handing him a cup of iced coffee. “Two extra shots of espresso, one pump vanilla syrup.
“Ahhh,” Akaashi sighed, closing his eyes after taking a good, long sip. “Where have you been all my life?” 
“Around?” you shrugged, falling into step with him as you started walking. It was a joke between you two since you could barely remember a time when Akaashi wasn’t around. That is, until you ended up going to different universities and only being able to see each other through the occasional video call. You knew that Akaashi had a life, but you couldn’t help but find yourself idling around empty chatrooms. 
So, when Akaashi asked if you wanted to check out a new bookstore, you leapt at the invitation, even going so far as to cram and finish all your requirements early before the weekend. The reason why you were late today wasn’t just because of the bus but because you had to spend at least an hour in front of the mirror, telling yourself that today was the day. Today was the day that you were finally going to confess to your childhood love.
“Ah, here it is,” Akaashi stopped, almost causing you to bump into him while you were deep in thought. You blinked yourself out of the fog and all your worries of confessing disappeared.
“It’s... huge,” you exclaimed at the bookstore that was about three stories high. 
“I did say that it was a big store.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me it was going to be this big,” you laughed. “Come on. Let’s go,” you grinned broadly, pulling Akaashi in by his sleeve. 
Ever since he was younger, you knew that Akaashi always had a thing for reading comics: from manga, to western superhero comics, to webcomics, to graphic novels. You weren’t that into exploring much of the genre as he was, but you loved the look of joy and curiosity in his face whenever he bought and brought home a new comic to read. Akaashi was very meticulous when it came to unwrapping the plastic, cracking open the book just enough so that the spine didn’t wrinkle, and storing them into his shelf that he sorted by series and size.
Seeing him now, browsing through the extensive comics and graphic novels selection in the bookstore that he surely visited for, brought all those memories back of the younger Akaashi who always looked out for the next Shonen Jump magazine publication. 
“Wow, they even have the Japanese edition of Sandman,” Akaashi said excitedly with his eyes shining as his fingers skimmed through the rows of book spines. 
“That’s the one you’ve been dying to read, right?” you stepped closer to him and looking up to browse the titles.
“Mhmm,” Akaashi nodded distractedly as he pulled a few books from the shelf. “I hope they keep these in stock.” 
As much as you loved watching him though, Akaashi did tend to linger a lot in the very same section of a bookstore so you couldn’t help but wander around the rows of shelves. One book, in particular, caught your eye. 
“Norwegian Wood, huh?” you heard Akaashi say out loud. He was standing behind you with two slim volumes tucked under his arm.
“Have you read it before?” you asked, holding up the book. 
“Yeah, for a lit class,” he nodded, sliding his glasses up his nose. “It’s a very sad love story but the writing is beautiful. Are you thinking of getting it?”
“I don’t know if I have the budget quite yet. I had to buy a textbook the other day,” you wrinkled your nose.
“I’ll get it for you then.”
“But--”
Before you could protest, Akaashi plucked the book from your hands and tucked it under his arm with the other comics he was planning to buy. “Trust me, it’s worth it,” he smiled at you.
“I can’t remember the last time you insisted on buying me something,” you smiled, feeling happiness bubble in your chest at the sweet gesture. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were trying to flirt by giving me books,” you blurted before you could even stop yourself. Akaashi regarded you with a raised eyebrow.
“Maybe I am,” he said with a smirk. 
“Y-you...” you stammered, finding yourself at a loss for words.
“Y/n, I know you like the back of my hand, maybe even more. I think I’d notice when you start looking at me differently,” Akaashi chuckled. You felt your face heat up at the comment. 
“Don’t worry though. I’d know only that because I did it first,” he said, suddenly flicking you on the forehead before making his way down the aisle to the check-out counter as his words sunk in.
“I-Is this a date then? Our... first?” you asked, jogging to catch up with him. Akaashi flashed you a sideways smile.
“You could say that.” 
taglist (open to anyone who wants in):  @oikaw-ugh​ @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan @therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja
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theycallmebecca · 4 years ago
Text
February Ice Storm
It just occurred to me that I hadn’t really told you guys about the experience I had back in February with the ice storm that nailed us and knocked out power for us for 3 days but people in my city for up to 10 days.
Originally, I had planned to turn it into a drabble and I actually started it, but it wasn’t exactly something I wanted to revisit. Mentally, I wasn’t in a good place thanks to anxiety and an emotional rollercoaster of what’s going to happen.
I know I shared bits and pieces of what had gone down, but this a more in-depth account of my experience from the ice storm that hit Oregon Valentine’s weekend of this year.
Let me preface this by saying that we knew that we were going to get an ice storm... but it was the worst ice storm we’ve had in a long time. And it did an astonishing amount of damage that we are still trying to recover from a month and a half later. Driving around, it looked like a tornado had ripped through and knocked down trees randomly. With as many trees that fell, it’s shocking how many didn’t.
The storm hit Friday night, February 12th, and it was just cold. Then about 3 am, the power went out. I know this because that’s when I suddenly found myself in the complete dark (no alarm clock, etc.) I didn’t think much of it and went back to sleep.
I was rudely awaken a few hours later by the sound of trees cracking and crashing to the ground. Let me tell you, that is a terrifying experience.
Knowing I still didn’t have power, I put on multiple layers and tried to make myself comfortable. However, by this time, it had started to warm up so there was lots of trees cracking all around me. Which was great for my anxiety.
Neither was the fact that the power outage had taken out the cell phone networks in my area. More on that in a moment.
Then I heard some neighbors outside, so I went out to talk to them and saw that a large limb from the pine tree by my building, was practically laying on my car. Some guys walking past, assured me that it was just on my car and not in my car.
It was cold, so I went back inside and tried to distract myself. But my main source of distraction, aka my phone, wasn’t really an option to me. And I could not access any of the music I would normally use to help myself relax when my anxiety is acting up.
I finally found a place in my apartment where I got good reception... by the sliding glass door that over looks the backyard where one tree had already uprooted itself and where more trees could easily come crashing down.
Anxiety is being amazing at this point. I’m sure you can tell.
Especially when on top of the trees cracking... I got the beautiful thunking of ice dropping out of trees as it warmed up. And we’re talking like chunks of ice as big as baseballs!
It was about that time that I heard a crack that was too close for comfort and knew, without a shadow of a doubt that the limb had broken and it was on my car. Two steps out my front door confirmed my fear, but when I tried to go see how bad it was, I heard the cracking of limbs and had to run back to the safety of my apartment as more limbs and ice baseballs dropped.
I was able to text my parents and asked if someone could try and come get me. They live parallel to me across two major roads, so it wouldn’t be a long trip if they could make it a little later once it had warmed up some more.
While I waited, I packed some stuff and tried to read, but it honestly was just too much.
And as annoying and little brother like as my brother-in-law can be, I have never been so happy to see him as I was that day when he and my mom showed up to get me.
By that time, I was flinching at every little noise that seemed to echo through my small apartment. And it was just becoming way too much. Even as I write this, the memory of that morning has me crying because I was too scared to cry on that day.
While he was waiting for me, my brother in law looked at my car and saw that the branches were resting on it, but the car looked ok.
The short drive to my parents house was shocking with the number of trees and power lines that were down. Also shocking was how many trees that didn’t land on houses. We did see a couple of cars smashed by trees though. And street lights were out every where.
I was very happy when we got to my parents house which is bigger than the building with 8 apartments that I live in. Their backyard is full of pine trees and they had lost a lot of limbs and stuff, but with everyone else there, you couldn’t hear the noises that had ramped up my anxiety.
Once I was there, the rest of the day passed relatively easy. I was with my family and that helped calm my anxiety because I knew I was in a safe place. We ordered pizza from a place that still had power. My brother in law built fires my parents fire places and my mom and I played dominos by flashlight. I also got some reading done.
Then I slept in my parents guest room... and the bed isn’t comfortable and the house was probably in the 45F range.
Sunday morning aka Valentine’s Day was warmer than the day before and my mom and I drove to my apartment to see what we could do about the limb on my car... only to find that someone had already pulled it off and chopped it up. We confirmed that my car was ok and the only damage to it was that my $5 license plate frame had been broken and the corner of my license plate was bent.
After that, we drove out to a grocery store that had power for some food, more logs for the fireplace and coffee... that my mom had to stand in line for 20+ mins to get.
When we got back to their house, we found a flurry of activity happening as my parents next door neighbor had rented a giant generator the day before to keep his house going and offered to let us plug some extension cords in so we could charge stuff, use small appliances and use a small heater.
So our Sunday afternoon was spent with our phones plugged in and a small space heater barely keeping us warm. But it was an improvement from the day before.
Then my uncle showed up. He’s been going back and forth between living with his ex girlfriend and living with my parents. With him at my parents house and knowing that my own apartment was still above 50F and therefore warmer than my parents house, I opted to sleep in my own bed that night.
So after getting pizza for dinner again (🤢) my mom dropped me off at my apartment for a cool night.
I started in my living room knowing that my back wouldn’t like 10+ hours in my bed and I actually got some light from a lamp by plugging it into my computer’s battery backup, which really did raise my spirits a bit.
But eventually I ended up in my room with the door closed, knowing I’d be able to lock in more heat that way. And it did work... but it was still a long night.
Because of no power and the fact that I’ve been working from home since March 2020, I told my boss I was taking the day off. At that time, the power company still still quoting power back on Monday. For me, they were even saying early Monday.
But my apartment was still cold and dark when I woke up. Which meant I cleaned out my fridge and freezer and then took my laundry out to the laundromat by my mom’s office that had power and heat.
So I took care of my laundry and then was going to head back to my parents, until I decided to see if Office Depot had any sales going on with laptops. And I ended up driving across town to buy one in case I needed to find some place to work other than my apartment for a couple days.
After that, I went to my parents house and watched a movie with my niece while power crews worked outside. I was still hoping they’d be able to get the power and internet back up so I wouldn’t have to drive to work Tuesday, but it wasn’t looking good.
By 5:30, I knew even if the power did some how come back on, I was still going to be without internet, so I left my parents and went to the grocery store for things to make a lunch that didn’t require a fridge since I still didn’t have that. And they were operating on their backup generators and actually stopped letting people into the store as I was checking out.
That evening, I played on my new laptop a bit and chatted with friends since my cell network was almost back up to speed, but I was in bed when the power came back on around 10 pm. And you sure as hell know I got out of bed and turned on every light switch just because I could!
I slept much better than night and did end up going into the office the next day for a partial day, but when I got home I had internet again.
For me and my family, we were without power for some 56 hours or so. But we had family friends and coworkers who went a good 10 days without power.
We don’t get storms like this and we were not prepared for it to be as bad as it was.
But the biggest take away for me is now necessarily how dependent I am on technology to entertain me... but for how to help me get through a rough situation.
Other than seeing a few members of my family once a week, I’ve been relatively on my own for the last year. And it’s been my “pocket friends” that have been my saving grace, my connection with the outside world. They’re the people that I turn to when I’m having a problem. And I was almost completely cut off from them for two whole days.
Add to that the rain storms and other anxiety reducing sounds that I’ve come to depend on. With the networks down, I couldn’t access any of those coping tools either.
My anxiety was the worst that Saturday morning than it has been in a long time. But by Monday evening, I was so tired emotionally and physically that I was just a mess. The roller coaster of the unknown was the worst part. You could make plans... but without power, there were things you just couldn’t do.
All in all, it was a once in a life time experience. As in, I don’t want to experience it again. Ever.
I think it will be a long time before a power outage doesn’t trigger anxiety within me. Because this last one was rough.
And now that I’ve relived this all in hopes that it might help me recover a little from what happened, it’s time for me to try and get some sleep. Probably shouldn’t have written this at night.. but oh well.
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rpgsandbox · 5 years ago
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Introducing the Teacher-Gamer Handbook
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The Teacher-Gamer Handbook is a resource for educators to lead Role Playing Games (such as Dungeons and Dragons) in the classroom, in homeschool and online. It contains a full semester of robust lesson plans and the pedagogical infrastructure to last years that teach 36 life-skills to players with pre-created adventure suggestions, narrative arcs and prompts.
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The main premise is: you can’t learn something unless you notice it. The purpose of the RPG Skillset is to generate multitudes of continuous opportunities to notice things within at least 36 major domains of self-development. The possibilities are endless.
My name is Zach.
Here is a brief history of how the Teacher-Gamer Handbook came to be:
1982 played Dungeons and Dragons for the first time - my character died in the first 10 minutes, it was so fascinating and unlike anything I had ever experienced... I was hooked! I have been playing RPGs for thousands of hours and almost 4 decades. Some would call me an O.G. (Original Gamer).
1990’s adventuring in life, school, work, music production, becoming Canadian and starting a family steered me in new directions.
2002+ raising two boys with my wife Sophie, I was teaching and studying by day, hangin' with the family and playing RPGs when I could on weekends.
2006 enrolled in an MA program in Education to better understand the “how” of teaching and learning.
2010 finished my Masters in Education focused on authentic learning and life-skills curriculum development.
2012 realized that role-playing games (RPGs) in Schools was an untapped resource. I began working on the Teacher-Gamer as an extension of my Distinct Self well-being program.
2014-2016 brought RPGs in Schools curriculum into the classroom at Green School Bali
2015-present Wild Mind Training workshops blending RPGs in Schools with mindfulness ramps into wilderness trips with Wildlife Conservation Society.
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2020 Teacher-Gamer Revolution! - happening offscreen on tabletops everywhere! Let’s get radical about balancing EdTech and AI coming into schools by bringing our teacher’s hobbies into life-skills classes that enrich youth with socio-emotional and literary skills while maintaining the distinctly human teacher-student relationships that cannot be replaced by computers.
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What We Need & What You Get
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I started this campaign for three main reasons:
It is time to put the Teacher-Gamer Revolution on the timeline, now, globally. It is so important to take what you have inside you and put it into the civic sphere. I urge all educators to make the world a better place by combining their passions with their pedagogical skills and make them available to the public.
Self-publishing the Teacher-Gamer Handbook (TGHB) will launch this new step of my career with all the support of my colleagues, friends and anyone who likes the idea that robust off-screen game-system-learning (engaging face-to-face life-skills development) is a viable initiative to balance the influx of technology into schools.
The TGHB is my calling card, a beacon, an organized methodology that I can put into the hands of people I meet at conferences, conventions and school boards wherever I go.  
I took a calculated risk and have already borrowed the money to:
finish the book
have it typeset in the style of a role-playing game handbook
make videos to explain how teaching RPGs in schools works
build a website with a private interactive forum.
I also plan to use the momentum and connections I make with so many people around the world to take the curriculum to the next level.
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My ultimate goal is to hit at least $60,000 so that I can spread the methodology online and hit the road when the world opens up again to safe conferences and in-person education.
Here's the Teacher-Gamer Revolution plan for the funds raised on IndieGoGo:
Hard Copy prints of the book for everyone!
Hit our stretch goals and produce additional resources for Teacher-Gamers to accompany the Handbook.
Finish the next three handbooks full of additional lesson plans, classroom activities and teaching strategies.
Newsletters with practical activities
Instructional videos
Teacher-gamer website features celebrating educator success around the world  
Weekly Webinars for online outreach and support
Teacher training workshop deployment to implement new full-scale RPGs in the classroom programs.
Head to Conferences and speaking events to grow the community and gain traction.
Continued customization of RPGs in Schools curriculum in community centers, school boards, correctional facilities and homeschools far and wide.
Finish the next three handbooks full of additional lesson plans, classroom activities and teaching strategies.
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Benefits for the Educators
help schools transition into more life-skills programs that prepare youth for adulthood
build progressive opportunities for face-to-face off-screen courses in schools
maintain positive attitudes about the future of schools
work to make life-skills more prominent in schools for the subject teacher who is getting pushed out by tech
Strengthen relationships with students through gameplay
The last thing a teacher wants to feel like is “obsolete”. There is some hustle each teacher must do to remain fresh, viable and relevant in their community, but if teachers are trying to battle incoming tech or are being asked to do more tech type roles, they will have to find ways to shift the consciousness of the institutes they work in or be moved around or pushed out.
This is a call to teachers to take their passions- or at least an opportunity to pick up this methodology to teach games- and deploy life-skills into their learning environment.  
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The Impact
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By contributing to the Teacher-Gamer Handbook, you are doing more than just buying a book or helping it get printed, you help:
establish the printing, distribution and sale of the book
the off-screen Teacher-Gamer Revolution gain traction and take flight
bring viability to the TEACHER-GAMER profession
subject teachers to collaborate with their peers to build robust game systems into learning opportunities
wilderness survival teachers establish classroom simulations of safety and role-playing through authentic learning narratives
bring a whole new piece of curriculum to holistic education
make in-roads for RPGs in Schools to become a discipline unto itself that helps youth process the multiverse of systems, franchises, worlds and cultures that are coming at them at high-speed through the internet and media.
The Story
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The Teacher-Gamer Handbook has been over 8 years in the making!
The RPGs in Schools program was originally developed as an extension to a Personal and Social Development Local Programme course cycle in Canadian public school – a well-being curriculum program of life-skills electives at The English Montreal School Board in Quebec. Since then, the RPGs in Schools program has been adapted into the Wild Mind Training resiliency program for youth, 10 years old and older in schools and camps in Indonesia and the UK where I have been working over the last 6 years.
Starting in 2014, Green School Bali was an early adopter of the RPGs in Schools Program where I ran Introduction to Dungeons and Dragons as an English literacy course (creative writing) in high school and as an English literacy course (communication thematic) in middle school.
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Every child surveyed in Green School reported that they liked the RPGs class and over half of them considered it their favorite class!
As I went along, I started realizing that all the life skills (21 basic and 15 advanced) that I was teaching could be dialed in to meet various curriculum goals and that if I put learners on a narrative cycle such as the Hero’s Journey, they would begin to recognize so many more thematics, symbols, motifs and literary forms as they relate to so many of the stories, books, films, TV series, mangas and other sagas that they follow.
Re-branded as Wild Mind Training, over the last 4 years. I have been experimenting with more mindfulness, wilderness conservation and improvisational theatre elements. As a home school aggregate on the weekdays and a weekend workshop for day school children, I have ironed out the kinks of three different levels of Introduction to Life-Skills through 3rd edition Dungeons and Dragons courses.
As with any pedagogy delivery system, the context and content (ie. role-playing game being used) can be adjusted into the area of study or subject. What matters most is that the learning system is authentically motivating and delivers opportunity after opportunity to acquire literacy, socio-emotional and life skills.  
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Risks & Challenges
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Getting the book printed is only the first step. I’m taking a huge financial risk of my own even if the project does not get funded. In order for it to succeed, I have to get out there and hit the road to show people how the methodology really improves the learning experience for the students and teachers.
I’ve got to hit trade shows, book speaking events, and still create workshops to help teacher-gamers really kickstart this program.
Let’s keep it real: this is an alternative learning method that requires adaptation. There may be backlash as conventional school systems are entrenched in “standardization”. I have to keep pushing this body of work as a complement to curricula by expanding the resources for teachers.
Gamification has brought games into education, but have also made the teachers gatekeepers to the computer. The negative result is that kids will be on their best behavior just to be allowed to get on screen. We need to bring value back to the teacher-student relationship, also making the teacher-gamer an exciting part of education - off-screen!
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The Teacher-Gamer Revolution is on!
And I am ready. The time is NOW. If not us, then who?
As a network of early adopters it is YOU that will help me carry this forward and YOU that by belief in this project, will help extend the reach of the Teacher-Gamer Revolution.
We have some goals to hit, and time is of the essence. There has been so much learned by going for it and I am so excited to turn this guerilla-style launch of getting the first Handbook off the ground and into teachers hands everywhere.
We will try to get questions answered as soon as possible, just know we are also trying to get the book to print BEFORE the end of the campaign and have a lot going on.
That being said, we are GOING TO PRINT and get your copies to you as SOON as possible. Depending on your location this could take some time as we are a GLOBAL movement with community around the world, but can only afford to print in ONE location at this time.
Print and delivery is scheduled for June 15th and getting copies in your hands by July 1st. But again, your patience is much appreciated and we will update you every step of the way!
Thanks to you for all your patience and getting involved.
Indiegogo campaign ends: 24 April 2020
Website: [Teacher Gamer] [facebook] [twitter] [instagram]
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diary-of-deadweight · 5 years ago
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Friendship anniversary.
Pairing: Tenya Iida x reader
Summary: what started out as a idea pitched at 3am turned tradition, Iida is planning something big with the help of Deku and Uraraka.
Iida paced within the comfort of his own room, arms behind his back as he racked his brain of what to get you for friendship anniversary, which was slowly creeping nearer the longer he spent a majority of the free time pacing with no dice. It was a beyond infuriating task as your someone who values the thought put into a gift rather then the price tag; hell he could give you a notebook and you would love it as if you were gifted a car instead. Iida wanted to give you something you’d love even if the price is above the budget you agreed on way back then.
So he visited the local jewellery store at the weekend and saw something he’d think you would absolutely love as it reminded him of your beauty and how much it has blossomed over your years of friendship, not just physically but personality wise too, he bought it and kept it in his desk since then but for Iida one gift wasn’t enough as you always managed to get him two gifts he absolutely loved which is why he was currently pacing in his room.
He was trying to come up with another gift he’d knew you would like.
sad thing was that he didn’t know what to get you as he already bought you the latest movies and the latest manga of your favourite anime; one punchman which was a true tale about a bald hero and his immense strength, speed and agility along side his dream of meeting a strong enough opponent who can toss him around a bit before knocking them around abut himself with a single punch, for your birthday and previous friendship anniversaries that he was left to his own devices this time round.
A knock upon the door pulled him from out of his brainstorming session, striding over to the door to see who was in need of his assistance during this dire time. “Hey Iida.” The class rep was greeted by his dear friends, Izuku and Uraraka, “do you wanna head to the mall with us?” The Brunette asked. “I’m sorry but I’m currrntly facing a task that requires my full attention right now, so I’m gonna have to decline your offer.” Iida informed them before closing the door on them, ready to get back to his scheduled brainstorming only to find his friends sat upon his bed made him do a double take between the door and them in befuddlement that went unnoticed by the two. “What’s troubling you Iida, we are your friends and friends help each other,” Ochaco nodded her head vigorously at Midoriya’s statement, “so we shall tackle this issue together.”
Iida sighed, shaking his head in disbelief at his friends persistence of wanting to aid him and decided that three heads were ultimately better then one and he was in desperate need of an idea so what could go wrong? “It’s mine and (y/n)’s frienship anniversary coming up and I’m struggling to think of another gift to give them.” He day himself on the other side of Midoriya, leaning his back against the cold wall. “So what is the first gift you got them?” Ochaco tilted her head to the side, her bob haircut followed suit with her moment.
“An Swarovski crystal necklace.”
Izuku and Ochaco gasped in surprise, sharing a look before looking back at Iida, “Doesn’t (y/n) hate expensive gifts because a Swarovski Crystal isn’t cheap.”
“I know, I thought that if I tell them that it reminded me of how beautiful and unique our friendship is that they wanted to preserve it forever.” Iida explained, blushing slightly when Uraraka cooed at how cute it all was that the bluenette must’ve thought she misinterpreted it as something albeit romantic but waved it off as accidental. “Why don’t you show them how much they mean to you.” Izuku suggested with a shrug, Iida thought about it and sure enough took interest in the idea, “what do you mean by that Midoriya?”
“I mean that you should create a slide by slide presentation on all the great moments you’ve had together.” The curly emerald haired male expanded upon his idea, “add some videos if you have any.” Ochaco added for the hell of it, already excited to see the finished product that they both free balled ideas that Iida either shot down due to being unrealistic to pull off or liked as it was something that could be easily accomplished.
This went on well into the afternoon and they decided that the plan was ready to go and went down to celebrate with Katsuki’s cooking as they dragged their limbs that felt like they were 100 pounds heavier with each step they took.
Timeskip
When the day finally arrived Iida was practically sweating bullets and his nervousness kicked into overdrive as he couldn’t seem to hold the USB without his hand violently shaking that he decided to place it within the safety in his pocket along side the necklace so he didn’t loose and or drop it anytime soon. He looked up at the clock upon the wall, sapphire gaze setting upon the illumonesent scarlet numbers which flashed repeatedly:
‘8:30am’
It wouldn’t be long until you would wake up and head down to the common room for breakfast and your morning cup of tea/coffee, you were a grumpy little shit without it as many of the class found out first hand. So the tall male setted off out the door and down to the common room like a bolt of lightning and began setting up everything whilst leaving his friends Uraraka and Midoriya to inform the rest of his classmates why most of the common room will be sectioned off into a blanket fort, they insisted in helping him set up to which he declined but appreciated their offer as this day was primarily for you and him specifically after a 3am conversation.
So he was thankful that no one was down in the common room as a majority of them were heavy sleepers and wouldn’t get up until like 10 am whilst people like Katsuki and Kirishima were early worms and would get up the millisecond the sun rose and do some morning training which gave Iida the chance to litter the floor with wisteria petals, whip out a old theatre screen from the closets (I don’t know the fucking name to them ok.) a little projector that he could connect to the computer and did a little test run beofre giving the room a satifying nod just as a ‘ping’ noise came from his phone.
It was a text from Midoriya.
‘Hey Iida are you ready cuz (y/n) is heading towards the staircase right now, Uraraka tried to stall them a little to give you extra time but it failed badly.’
Iida smiled at how kind his friends are to stall time for him, he responded back with.
‘Thank you Midoriya I’m already set up with relatively ease but I appreciate the help.’
After he pocketed his phone a voice from the stair case he knew almost instantly.
“Oh my god...Iida,” he turns around to you with a softened look, “is this all for our special day?” He wordlessly nods, “it’s beautiful.” He watched your wide eyed expression as they wander around the decorated section as if you were walking through the snow covered streets of Musutafu as you came from a *cough* fictional *cough* country where snow is rare; unable to speak which gave Iida mixed emotions as half of him believed it was out of disgust while the other half believed that it was out of shock and amazement at his efforts of making today the best friend’s anniversary in recent memory, something he hope you both remember years from now.
He wandered over to you, resting a hand upon your shoulder that made you jump slightly, you turned to him with an almost unreadable expression, making IIda’s worry increased by a fraction.
“(Y/n), do you like it?”
“Like it? Like it? Iida I love it!” You exploded with joy as you hugged the male as tightly that he swore he couldn’t feel his lower half beofre finally deciding that it was time to show you the gifts so he tapped you on the shoulder to signify for you to release him, which you did as you watched him as he made his way over to the computer, pressing play as a video began playing from the projector that began with some emotional music whilst pictures of you and Iida flashed before your eyes while every once in a while bold lettering would spread saying the sweetest shit like:
‘Under a cherry blossom tree three years ago stood a person I had no idea would later become my best friend. Someone I couldn’t possibly live without or be away from for an extensive period of time without worrying about their well being but I know that they know I only mean well when I do so.
‘But as of this year, 2020, I had troubles trying to think of what to get them as I would spoil them rotten under the radar which’ll most definitely earn me a scolding later today. If it wasn’t for Izuku and Uraraka for giving me this idea during my time of stress, I don’t know what I would’ve done.’
Before another barrage of photos and videos of you both either inside or outside the academy, being either falsely stern at each other and laughing about it seconds after or just pulling funny faces at the camera.
‘So I decided to take their idea and make a presentation on how much (y/n) (l/n)’s frienship means to me so I’m going to summarise it on a sentence before the next section of pictures cuts in.’
You chuckled at this.
‘(Y/n)’s friendship means everything to me and I would never trade it for anything.’
So as the last load of pictures and or videos came to an end one last paragraph showed itself over an uncomfortably zoomed in picture of your face such drew a hysterical laugh from your lips, a sweet release from all the crying you’ve been doing through out it all as nostalgia swept you off your feet and carried you down memeory lane of each individual picture and or video. You truly didn’t know where you’d be without having this sapphire eyed male beside you...you truly didn’t.
‘(Y/n). Your friendship was and always will be the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced and I hope that even well into adulthood we still uphold this tradition for as long as we can, I never wish to loose the unique relationship we’ve built overtime due to the lack of communication, it’s something I’d be stupid to give up, so I hope you enjoy the next gift that, honestly costed a pretty penny but was most defiantly worth it as it symbols out frienship and how it’s so unique it had to be crystallised. Happy friend anniversary (y/n), here’s to many more’
- Tenya Iida.
Tenya then knelt next to you as he hands you a small box, gesturing you to open it with a nod of his head as he wiped away the tears that had gathered within his eyes over the presentation and the waves of nostalgia that wished over him and how even through the worst of days you both stuck together like gorilla glue.
You opened the beautifully presented box to see this:
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“A Swarovski Crystal?!” You exclaimed as you dangled the necklace in front of your blurry eyes as you admired hoe it glistened under the light, “Tenya Iida, you beautiful bastard help me get this on please.” You sniffled as you unclasped the necklace, handing it to Iida who sat himself behind you, shifting hair out of the way as he clasped the necklace as you felt the center price rest upon the middle of your chest as you gazed down at it in awe, wiping away the tears that cascaded down your cheeks like a waterfall as you were riddlers with emotions that you just thought ‘fuck it’ and tackled Tenya into a hug as you cried into him; saying how you didn’t deserve such a friend as loyal as him and thanked him for being born, how blessed you were to have him in your life which made Iida collapse into a heap of tears himself, while unknownst to you, the rest of your class stood on the stair way, smiling at your sweet moment before evacuating the area to give you both some privacy.
Later down the line you and Iida may or may not have gotten married later on in life and would be spending your third anniversary underneath a familiar cherry blossom tree, the same exact one where you first met all those years back.
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lia-jones · 4 years ago
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Growing Together - Chapter Ten - How Far We've Come
Victor watched her from afar as she fumbled with the zipper of her dress. He found her adorable, lightly scoffing at herself, her small hands trying to position to a good angle to get the job done, while she carefully watched herself in the mirror.
He mischievously stood in the distance, concealing himself from her, letting her fend for herself a little longer while he observed. This was his guilty pleasure, a small moment that was only his, when she was alone, oblivious to his presence, lost in a secret dialogue with herself. He drank every one of her expressions, how she silently scolded herself when she failed to do what she intended, how she would secretly pat herself in the back when she finally achieved it.
Eventually, feeling he had had his daily fix, he walked up to her and placed his hands on top of hers, still trying to pull the zipper.
“Need help?” He couldn’t help the slight amusement in his voice.
“Ugh. Yes.” She scoffed, turning her back to him so he could help her. “These dresses are so needlessly complicated. I’m always afraid I’ll pull too hard and rip the fabric.”
“That’s why husbands were invented.” He joked. “To help their clumsy wives zip their dresses.”
“Is that so?” She played along. “I thought it was to change tires.”
“No, that’s why road assistance was invented.” He quipped.
“Right, I’ve never seen you change a tire ever.” She turned and placed her hands on his chest, looking pensive. “Hm. I got myself a faulty husband.” She teased.
“And I got myself a wife that can’t reach the top shelf without help.” He smirked. “Life isn’t perfect.”
“How dare you?” She smacked his chest, making him chuckle. “That’s it, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” She went to look for her purse, pretending to be offended.
“Tonight is a big night.” He changed the subject. “Feeling nervous?”
“I think, at this point, feeling nervous is pretty much my normal state.” She laughed at her own exaggeration. “Ok, honestly, how do I look?”
The deep green satin dress looked stunning on her. The lace on the corset hugged her breasts in a perfect and elegant way, and the backless design showed her soft skin, the one he loved to kiss in their most intimate moments. He softly ran his fingers on her back, anticipating the events that would follow the gala.
“Honestly?” He pulled her closer, whispering wet in her ear. “Breathtaking.”
Inside the limousine, on their way to the ceremony, he heard her laugh, looking at her phone.
“Just look at this.” Andrea showed him the screen. He immediately identified Guy, Xavier and Mr. Mills in Guy’s restaurant, toasting with red wine, a caption below the picture that said: Á belle Andrea! Felicitations!
“That was heartwarming.” He quipped. “Remind me to send them something to thank them for the support.”
The beautifully decorated ballroom was brimming with warmth and life, and Victor could hear in every corner people engage in interesting conversations about religion, economy or politics. The greatest minds of Loveland were gathered into that very same place, and anyone that was remotely interested in drinking a little bit of knowledge was bound to have a very bountiful night.
Victor and Andrea were received with honor and enthusiasm by the GESA president and his assistant, Andrea being treated almost like royalty. True to herself, his wife was impervious to all the flattery, as she still couldn’t place herself among the great. Victor knew that was her greatest weapon: because she never felt like she was finally arriving, she would never stop walking. And because of that, no one knew how far she would walk.
As they sat at their table and Andrea, the eternal social butterfly, chatted idly with some guests, Victor let his mind wander to years before. Two years before, to be exact, when he didn’t know she would be his, and she didn’t know she would be brilliant. But on that specific day, he saw something on her that told him she would go far. And how.
It was a Saturday morning, and he was visiting Loveland’s Public Library. The Mayor had invited him under the pretense of showing his last monetary donation had been used, but Victor was no fool. He was perfectly aware that the politician was after another donation. Still, he let himself be led by the man through the many floors of the building, pretending to be unaware of his true intentions. It wasn’t like he had better plans anyway, and he knew how important his donations were, especially to students that couldn’t afford the books that their classes demanded.
“This should interest you since it’s your field.” The Mayor announced as they arrived at the Economic Sciences floor. “We are proud to say that, thanks to your generosity, we have an extensive collection of books and manuals. As you can see by how busy this place is, many students come here to study and research during the weekends.”
Victor took a look around at the place, and just like the Mayor said, all the tables were occupied with laptops and books, the people sitting at them engaged in stimulating conversations. Most of these people weren’t born with a silver spoon on their mouths like he had, and thanks to something that required little effort from him, they could study and work for a better life. Victor couldn’t think of a better use for his money. Enjoying a sudden feeling of accomplishment, Victor was about to leave to visit the next floor, when something caught his eye. At the end of the room, by the corner, was that Portuguese girl that worked for him, the one he had hired just a couple of months ago, Andrea.
His heart gave the alarm, pounding heavily, giving the rest of his body all sorts of instructions. He could feel something inside him flutter, his breath becoming faster, his palms starting to sweat. He had no idea why that woman caused such a reaction in him, the only time he spoke to her was during her interview, and he sure wasn’t going to let himself get all flustered for someone he barely knew. So he took a discreet deep breath, trying to regain control, telling his own body to quit the nonsense.
Despite it all, there was no harm in staying for a little longer and observing her. He was naturally interested in studying people’s behavior, especially the people that worked for him. It was not like he was staying behind to look at her, per se, he just wanted to know what she really was like. He could even say it was a precautionary measure, no more than that. With that thought firmly in mind, because there was obviously no other reason to do what he was about to do, he turned to the Mayor.
“If you don’t mind, I would like to take the time to explore this place a little bit further. Alone. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Before the Mayor could retort, Victor turned his back on him. Taking a random book from one of the shelves, he sat on a corner where he could see her but was sure she couldn’t see him. It would be enjoyable to just sit and read for a while, enjoy the ambiance, he told himself. No, this had nothing to do with her at all.
However, Victor realized that he had no idea if the book he was holding was actually interesting. He was yet to read a word of it. Instead, his eyes kept stubbornly drifting back to her, curious to see what she was doing.
Her table was full of books, her open laptop, and a notebook ridiculously filled with colorful sticky notes. She looked different than usual, wearing casual jeans and a navy blue sweater, her curly hair in a messy bun that a pencil kept in place. She was laser-focused on her work, apparently taking quotes from one of the books and typing them on her laptop, making the occasional annotation on her notebook. The several empty cups of coffee at her table indicated she had been working since quite early, probably the whole morning.
Victor realized that, much to his surprise, a feeling of pride was growing inside him, and he simply put it aside, like he did with most of his feelings. He had nothing to be proud about, she was merely an employee, no one of relevance in his life. Besides, for all he knew, she was working hard but failing miserably, making all sorts of unforgivable mistakes.
Still, he had to admit, her effort was remarkable. Most people slept in on Saturday mornings or spent their weekend resting or entertaining themselves with ludic activities, and yet she was there, buried in books for who knew how long. Furthermore, Victor knew the previous day had been hard for her, as Ted had told him that they left the company close to midnight, due to a problem one of his clients had. Regardless, she was there. It was ridiculous for Victor to feel proud of her, but completely understandable if he experienced at least a shred of surprise.
She stopped her work, reading the covers of the books she had on her table, and frowning. She suddenly got up from her table and walked to the librarian’s desk. Without a second thought, Victor followed her.
“Excuse me.” He heard her call the librarian. “Do you by any chance have “The Theory of Development”, by Aidan Thorpe?”
Victor knew that book. It was a study published in the ’90s that had caused immense controversy, so further editions had been canceled, remaining only the first printed copies. Victor had purchased it for his personal collection and found it brilliant. It was interesting that Andrea was also using it.
The librarian struck a few keys on her computer and shook her head, Andrea’s face falling, disheartened. Thanking the woman, she turned to leave, absorbed in her thoughts. In fact, so absorbed that she wasn’t minding where she was going and bumping-
On him.
“Oh God, it’s you!” She jumped back, looking slightly frightened. “I mean, good morning, Sir. And I’m sorry.”
It was obvious to Victor that she became deeply uncomfortable with the sight of him. That quickly put him in a bad mood.
“Watch where you’re going.” Victor scolded her, although he didn’t mean to. “Looking for Thorpe’s work? It’s incredibly hard to find.”
“I know.” She sighed. “There was a copy at Calouste Gulbenkian, back at home, I’ll try to see if I can get any copies of it.” She tucked a curl behind her ear, not looking him in the eye.
“Interesting fashion choice.” He mocked, pointing to the pencil in her hair. “Is that how young people use stationery these days?”
“I forgot my hair tie.” She seemed unamused. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. Enjoy your weekend.”
Victor had no choice but to watch her and she hurriedly walked to her table, gathering all her things and leaving in a rush. She obviously couldn’t stand him. But then again, he knew he wasn’t all that loveable, being a business mogul comes with a price, and for the most part, he was willing to pay it. Yet, he couldn’t shake the sadness to see her leave like that.
Back at his apartment, Victor found himself staring at his bookshelf. Something was brewing inside him, he could feel it, but he was too much of a coward to look at it. He had been hurt before. He needed to tread lightly.
But she needed this. And it was so easy to give it to her. Was he really the kind of person that would disregard someone’s need for the sake of self-preservation? With a decided scoff, he took the book off his shelf and placed it on his coffee table. On the inside of the cover, he wrote a few words, closing it immediately.
He took his phone and dialed the number. She could never know.
“I will give you the donation you need.” He spoke, eyes focused on the book. “However, I have a special request.”
“Is everything ok?” He heard her ask. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“What? Are you done listening to Frank’s dissertations about his trips to Namibia?”
“I find them interesting actually.” She came close to him, whispering in his ear. “But the man does talk a lot .”
They both chuckled privately, as they watched from the corner of their eyes the said guest go on another tirade, gesticulating furiously. He lovingly took his wife’s wrist, the one where she wore her charm bracelet.
“You’re wearing it today.” He twirled the V charm between his fingers, proud to have her show that part of him.
“I wear it every day.” She gave him a confused frown.
“I assumed you wouldn’t today, fearing it wouldn’t go with the dress.”
“It’s part of me.” She touched the bracelet on her wrist like it was her favorite thing in the world. “I could never take it.”
He took his wife’s hand again, kissing the back, the softness of her skin and her scent making his heart swell. He loved how she proudly wore his gift, the testimony of their life together like it was her lucky charm, her source of strength.
She was very fond of symbols and superstitions, and although Victor was more of a logical man, even he had to admit the power objects seemed to have in summoning the best in someone, or their worst.
He could still remember that Sunday afternoon, after taking her out to lunch. He was at her place, baking cookies, while she worked on her study.
“It smells delicious.” She commented from the table, as he took the cookies from the tray to cool.
“It will only take another ten minutes. Are you ready for a break? I’ll boil some water for tea.”
“Yes, please.” She stretched her body, stiff from sitting so long. “I’ll clear the table.”
As the water boiled and the cookies cooled, he helped her clear the table of all books and sticky notes she had laying around, spotting the book he had donated to the library. He held it in his hand with a smile.
“That one belongs to the library.” She explained. “I should return it soon, but the librarian says I can keep it as long as I want, and to be honest, it’s breaking my heart to have to return it. I may buy it from them.”
“Why is it so special?” Victor smiled, hoping his expression wouldn’t give away his secret.
“The previous owner wrote this on the cover, see?” She opened the book, showing him the inside of the cover. “Probably for motivation. And you know what? Every time I feel overwhelmed, I look at that inscription, and I feel stronger. It does work.”
Victor couldn’t have guessed the impact his words on a cover of an old book could have on her life, but he was glad to be a positive influence in her work, even if disguised. The following week, while on a business trip, he texted her.
You no longer need to return the book. It’s yours.
“Why do I feel so nervous? I already know I won.” Andrea commented as they started announcing the awards.
“Is it because of the speech?” He held her hand. “If you forget it, just speak from the heart.”
“And now, ladies and gentleman,” a voice announced, “to present the award for Most Promising Mind in Economics… Professor Chauncey Williamson.”
Andrea froze on her seat. It was the teacher that gave her an incredibly hard time when she was defending her doctorate thesis. The professor climbed the stairs to the stage, taking the microphone.
“Ladies and gentleman, good evening.” He started. “Most of you don’t know this, but Mrs. Lee and I share a piece of history together, when she was still Miss Jones. In fact, I was one of the teachers invited to evaluate her thesis. I must admit that, while back in the day I considered Miss Jones too good to be true , Mrs. Lee has not failed to disappoint. Her ongoing study shows a lot of promise and raises many important questions, which is why it is my greatest honor to give the winner for Most Promising Mind in Economics, Dr. Andrea Lee!”
Andrea turned to her husband, pecking him on the lips, before getting up to deliver her speech.
“Go get them.” Victor whispered, before he saw his wife walk towards the stage.
“I have to admit, Dr. Williamson, I wasn’t such a fan of you back then, but I kind of like you now.” She joked, and everyone in the audience laughed. “First of all, I would like to thank GESA for this honor and its juri, and all of the present here for sharing this moment with me. I am deeply honored. There is a saying, no man is an island. And this is particularly true for this award, because, as you may imagine, I didn’t win it on my own. I’d like to thank my husband, who has been with me since day one, who believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself, and made sure I was supported in every step of the way. I love you handsome, and I’m so grateful for having you in my life.”
Victor found himself close to tears, the pride and emotion being too much to bear with a straight face. He mouthed I love you too to his wife, although he knew words wouldn’t be able to convey the warmth he felt in his heart.
“I’d also like to thank my family and friends, for putting up with my absence and moods when I was too busy, you guys are the best, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world. I also want to thank my team, who worked relentlessly and believed in my project, taking hours and hours of their personal time so we could make the deadline we had defined. And lastly, I want to thank who I like to call my silent supporter.” Andrea’s voice faltered slightly with the emotion. “You see, when I was just starting to write my thesis for my doctorate, and I couldn’t afford expensive books for reference, I had to use the Loveland’s Public Library. There was a book that I needed, The Theory of Development, by Aidan Thorpe, and that the library was kind enough to let me take home temporarily for consultation. Inside the cover of that book, there was a quote that said The best view comes after the hardest climb. I have to say, that quote changed my life. Every time I felt disheartened, or tired, or felt like giving it up completely, I would go to that book and read that quote, and I found myself strong again. I don’t know who you are, and maybe you won’t listen to my speech, but I want to say to the world that your words gave me strength, and you are also a reason why I’m here. Thank you.”
Victor smiled as he applauded her speech, his heart feeling so big that it could barely fit in his chest. He would never tell her that the book was actually from him, and he was the one who wrote those words, although she could easily figure it out by his handwriting. He would keep it secret like his own personal treasure, the knowledge that he had been her supporter since even before she knew, that he loved her even before she loved him. This was for him and him alone. His guilty pleasure.
That day was a memorable day in their lives, and Victor couldn’t help to trace back all the events that led to it. How she started as a not so shy intern at Loveland, but so unaware of her potential. How even when faced with major difficulties, her past being all over the media, her career being on the line, she never gave up. How she bravely stood up to her abuser, and his father, and anyone who was unjust or had hurt someone significant in her life. If he had to describe his wife with a handful of adjectives, two of them would certainly be brave and relentless.
Later that night, he sat in his living room, nursing a glass of brandy and watching the city skyline, like he did many times when he was too overwhelmed by his own thoughts. Feelings like pride and love filled his heart, but there was one he could not shake off: sorrow. He had never seen his wife give up on anything, except for the thing she wanted the most. She had come so far, improved her life in so many ways, healed from the past, but there was one thing that still stung her heart: the fact that she would never become a biological mother.
As his loving husband, Victor decided that it was his duty not to let her give up on her dream, or better, their dream. He had seen her barely recover from their last try, and his heart feared that mentioning the subject again would reopen old wounds, but he couldn’t let her fold like that. There were still options. They still stood a chance.
“The bed is cold without you.” He heard her complain from the door.
“Come here.” He extended his arms to her. “I’ll warm you up.”
She sat on his lap, running her fingers through his hair.
“You’re drinking alone in the dark.” She looked at him with worried eyes. “Is something upsetting you?”
“Just lost in thought, that’s all.” He leaned his head against her chest.
“Anything in particular?” She kept combing his hair with her fingers. Victor closed his eyes, enjoying her care.
“How far we have come. How we were before, how we are now.” He mumbled.
“We did come a long way, didn’t we?” She was reminiscing. “I remember my trip to Loveland. It felt like navigating uncharted waters. I have changed so much since then.”
“Why did we give up? We never give up.” He looked up to her, knowing he didn’t need to specify. The look in her eyes told him she understood.
“I can’t give you a child, Victor.” She answered weakly.
“But we can have one. We can adopt. She may not be our blood or share physical characteristics, but we will love her. She will be ours, be a Lee, all the same.”
Andrea watched him lovingly as he spoke, tears brimming her eyes.
“I don’t want to give up just yet.” This time, it was his turn to ask. “Will you do this with me?”
“Yes.” She smiled as she let a tear fall. “I will.”
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mistress-kitty2017 · 4 years ago
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Contracts and Consent
As with any relationship, partners in a BDSM relationship need to have a consensual agreement between each other. We all know that no means no unless it’s a consensual no, then no becomes please, don’t stop. Give me more! That can be confusing in the BDSM scene. Furthermore, most of the practices found in a BDSM relationship can give the perception that someone is in trouble or not living up to their full potential. You can see this perspective with doms and subs that are public either walking the streets or writing blogs. Your neighbors may become worried when they hear the beatings that may be taking place during the hot summer months and you have the window open. Setting up consent with your partner is a healthy beginning to your BDSM path.
A contract between a dom and sub is an open line of communication. My Mistress and I began creating our contract by discussing our interests, or wants, and our needs. The discussion quickly became deep and involved serious emotions and connections to components of ourselves we felt we needed to hide for years. My Mistress began writing our contract to create an open line of communication and to document our needs from each other. It is the contract that has been the foundation of our lifestyle for the past 5 years. Upon agreeance to the contract, we both consented to the items within and spoke our minds about the various sections.
An important item we learned from creating our contract was the distinction from what we truly fantasized and what works in our reality. A perfect example is my collar. While it is extremely sexy for me to wear my collar and a gag all day long, it just is not a reality for us currently. We have careers and family. An all-day collar and gag is not an acceptable piece of my wardrobe. Distinguishing between our reality and our fantasies has led us to a more solid and authentic contract. Now, I am not saying that does not happen. Weekends at grandma’s place usually becomes long play sessions.
Mistress and I review our contract yearly. Over the past 5 years, we have discovered new pieces of ourselves and that has required us to review and update the context of our contract. Our contract lists out almost everything we consent to in the BDSM lifestyle. Our contract begins by stating what we are agreeing to, a BDSM lifestyle where Mistress takes ownership of me as her Submissive. We believe our hard limits are something we both must know before we can move forward; therefore, our hard limits come right after our agreeance. We have stressed the importance of being aligned with our hard limits and surprisingly we have never disagreed on a hard limit at all. We have talked extensively, and honestly, about what is and is not a hard limit. That has required vulnerability from each of us but also flexibility. Our hard limits are absolutely not going to happen in our lifestyle, but as we have grown, items have moved from the hard limits to the soft limits. We have found ways to safely incorporate and enjoy a hard limit in a sense that does not push us to that hard limit. A perfect example took place in the most recent update. Mistress and I are not keen on scat or piss play. Scat play is currently on our hard limit list; however, piss play has moved to a soft limit and made an appearance on our punishment list. The agreement was that I would have to earn this as a punishment for various reasons such as using the bathroom without permission from Mistress. This transition happened over the course of the last year as we discussed the act and how each of us felt involving the act into our lifestyle.
Mistress and I’s contract spells out our rituals and schedule for sessions. While spontaneous sessions continue to arise in our lifestyle, Mistress also likes to schedule certain nights. I am to kneel for my collar every evening after our children are down for the night as a ritual. Saturdays are game night with friends, so my ass is almost always stuffed with a plug. Rituals and schedules help us maintain a 24/7 lifestyle even when life takes us in busy directions.
Our contract explains rewards and punishments alongside our rituals, hard and soft limits, and a general list of our interested fetishes. The rewards section of our contract recently received a large update. Mistress implemented a point system for following rituals, chores, and the predefined schedule. She keeps track of the tasks and how many points I earn. I can purchase rewards such as a free chore day or an orgasm during sex that is not a ruined orgasm.
Mistress and I continue to talk about the contract way past the signing of the newest edition. This is how our contract continues to grow and evolve as we grow together. Recently, we have discussed of losing the options of enjoying an orgasm at all. Instead, my long, built up, pumping orgasms will become ruined orgasms for Mistress’s pleasure. This is how our lifestyle grows and evolves. These things do not happen without the update of our contract per our agreement.
Consent in a BDSM relationship is just as important as any relationship, if not, more so. Without proper consent and planning, a BDSM relationship can quickly crumble and become miserable for both parties. Take the time to speak to your partner, or partners, we do not judge around here. It will pay off in the long run.
Until next time
Kneeling Kitty
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writings-in-ebony · 5 years ago
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Heritage - Chapter 2 Steve Rogers/Black!reader
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Summary: The annual Gathering is approaching causing all Irish wolves to come and celebrate their history together during a five-day week filled with feasts, games, entertainment, and storytelling. However, The Hunt is also during this time and Steve is volun-told to participate in this Coming-of-Age ceremony by none other than his grandfather. To have a successful hunt, one must possess all the attributes of a wolf to succeed, but Steve doesn’t have that. How can he successfully complete the challenge (and not die) when he can barely make it down the stairs without collapsing into an asthmatic fit?
Author’s note: Hello everyone! Sorry for the late submission, but life outside has a way of killing the writing muse and distracting me. I struggled through the beginnings of his chapter, but as you can tell, steam was picked up as my excitement grew. I would also like to point out that I tried to do extensive research on wolf mythology in Irish culture. If it is not accurate, please let me know and I’ll promptly correct it. I like to be as concise as possible with my works. As always, likes and reblogs are well received and I love comments and asks! Thanks again, everyone!
P.S. I’m sorry the reader has not shown up yet! It’s such a slow burn but I want to build the story up!
Word Count: 3341
Warnings: Bad language and a singular event of physical abuse
Chapter 2: The Hunt Part I
Cashel watched on as the contractors he hired lifted a wooden beam that would eventually be part of an intricate large tent. The tent will house three long wooden tables and benches, all made from the wood of the ash trees that grew in his homeland. They didn’t take long to import and the wood maker he had hired was a family friend. The man has been making crafts for them for well over twenty years and there was just something special about his work that caused them to keep requesting. With the tables that Cashel needed for this event, he specially carved the family’s crest into the top of the table and poured resin into the gaps to smooth it back out. It was beautiful and each tabletop was glossed and stained to bring out the rustic coloring. Marvelous, he had praised when he first saw them released from the shipping box.
One of the workers was drilling in the beam when his assistant, a relatively young wolf by the name of Finnian, approached him with his notebook in hand. The lad was lean, average height, and had a soft face that didn’t match his stern, cold eyes. Cashel had recruited him during the latter parts of the fifties, and he has been pleased with his work ever since. Finnian was prompt, organized, and quick on his feet whenever things went south. Cashel had also noted the young man had a dark streak to him, which complemented his unwavering loyalty to the family and his boss.
Finnian, who was already opening his notebook before he reached Cashel, was looking to finalize plans, receive a few confirmations, and update Cashel on all the arrangements and changes that are taking place. “Sir, I need to update you on a few things,” he had begun, formal and professional about everything.
“Firstly, I confirmed the menu with the chef, and he has already begun making preparations for the dinner. The baker has delivered the cakes and pies. However, she tried to skimp on one, but she was able to dock off some of the cost after some nudging. The contactors are, as you know, in the middle of their building and they will be done well in advance.” Cashel nodded, pleased with the news. But he didn’t say anything because he knew Finnian wasn’t done.
“Now, as for the Coming of Age ceremony, I have made sure that there are roadblocks and barriers put in place to prevent any…unnecessary leavings of the property. There are also barrier markers in the woods at the edge of the land. And some of the men have volunteered to stand watch and prevent anyone from entering and leaving without permission. As for the ceremony, I have three boy’s names down: Matt, Sean, and Miguel.”
“Steve,” Cashel provided. Finnian’s eyes widened and he paused at Cashel’s sudden addition. Without looking at the lad’s face, Cashel continued. “Add Steve’s name. He shall be participating in the Coming of Age ceremony, too. And make sure he and his mother are notified.”
“But sir, Steve…” he trailed off, wondering if it was his place to ask the question.
“I understand. Steve is lacking the physical qualities that are preferred to participate in The Hunt, but I believe he can still participate with what he has. The boy is smart, and a fighter. I know he is the runt to everyone else, but there is something under that weak exterior that is trying to fight its way out. And I want to be there when it does.” Cashel’s words didn’t ease Finnian in the slightest. In fact, they worried him and confused him. The boy was going to die, Finnian thought as he wrote down his name under the list of participants.
 ~~
“He wants me to do what?!” Steve screamed, face red and blotchy as he looked into Bucky’s worried eyes. “I-I can’t do the Coming of Age ceremony! I-I’m not, I c-can’t even run to the bathroom without having an asthma attack and increasing my risk of heart failure! And now the old coot wants me to compete against my strong ass cousins in an effort to show off what, my ability to die at the slightest breeze?!” He was breathing very heavily, almost wheezing, and Bucky reached into his pocket for the back-up inhaler.
“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Bucky softly answered, but the responding glare aimed back at him told him that wasn’t the best approach. “Okay, listen, you’ll be given the tools you need to complete the challenge okay? And guess what, knowing you, you’ll do great!”
Steve flopped down on the bed, shrinking into himself and putting his face into his hands. “I knew my grandfather was trying to kill me. I bet he’s like, ‘Oh ho ho, let’s put him in the ceremony. That way he can die without it being on anyone’s conscious.’ Acting like I’m not the fucking runt.”
“Steven Grant Rogers, I know that’s not your voice I hear dishing out that horrible language,” came his mother’s stern voice. Steve jumped in surprise and watched his mother enter the room, a garment bag dangling over her arm.
“Sorry mam,” he grumbled. Bucky stood to the side and watched as Mrs. Rogers went to the bed and laid the garment bag down.
“Apology accepted,” she smirked, unzipping the front and exposing about five outfits for Steve. Her son let out an irritated groan and she quickly shut him up. “No, none of that. You know this is an important event and you need to look the part. Especially given you’re now in the ceremony!” She looked excited, but Bucky could smell the presence of nervousness and fear. She felt the same hesitations as Steve, but she couldn’t voice them unless she wanted to discourage her son. Even so, the matter was out of her hands.
“Now, c’mon and try on these outfits. I want my son to look good for the ladies this weekend!”
 ~~
The Hunt was only a small celebration within a larger one called The Gathering. The Gathering was the annual meeting of Irish wolves to celebrate their origin, survival, and thriving heritage. It has been held for centuries, usually somewhere within Ireland, but after the Gathering of 42’, it was decided that it should be held within America. It was a safety and security issue, and Cashel had taken up the mantle of hosting the event at his mountain estate every year.
The Gathering consisted of five days of events and various festivities. The first day was dedicated to the history of Irish wolves and everything involving the lore and stories behind their origins. A huge bonfire will be erected, and everyone will gather around to listen to the elders' recount old tales, both scary and mesmerizing. Steve always loved the tales, even if he’s heard them every year. They were so inspiring and made him proud to be part of a family with so much history. They told tales of the Laignach Faelad, a tribe of wolf-men who followed under the cruel rule of Crom Cruach and demanded payment in the form of newborn babies. Or the fight between Morrigan and Cúchulainn and how the goddess shifted into a giant wolf and caused destruction in her path. The stories were also exaggerated to make them more outlandish, but they were always entertaining, and everyone listened attentively every year as if they were brand new.
The second day would be dedicated to various games, tournaments, and music. It was an all-day party that ended in a giant feast and all the alcohol anyone could dream of. There wasn’t much Steve could do on this day since it mostly required you have the strength and skills of a wolf, so he usually just cheered his cousins on as he stood off to the side.
The third was a day of rest. A day where everyone tried to get over their hangovers and compose themselves before the big ceremony. A simple dinner was held, and it was usually a peaceful affair. There might be some rowdy individuals, but most just ate their dinner and either talked about the previous day or the one to come.
The fourth day was the big ceremony: The Coming-of-Age ceremony. This is where the chosen youth come forward and participate in a challenge and upon successful completion, they will fully be recognized as adults. It was a very important event amongst the family and every young wolf must participate if they want to be accepted and respected. The ceremony started with another big feast. The participants are sat in the middle of the table and given a hearty helping of food to increase their energy. Once that is done, the elders will announce each of them and give a speech on what it means to be an Irish wolf. And then, begins The Hunt.
 ~~
Steve was brought out of his thoughts when he realized his name was being called repeatedly. He gazed up from the book in his hand (he wasn’t actively reading it anyway) and saw his father standing in the doorway. His face was a mix between nervousness and irritation, probably because he has been calling his son’s name numerous times. “Yeah?” Steve asked, curious as to why his father was here. He never came to Steve’s room. It was like a silent agreement between the two. They stayed out of each other’s way and never had to deal with each other. But here they were, staring at each other as Joseph leaned against the frame of Steve’s bedroom door, looking at Steve with a weird smirk on his face.
“I just wanted to see how my son was doing,” Joseph chuckled. Steve’s frown deepened. This was highly unusual. Joseph saw the open expression of confusion cross his son’s face and his own smirk faltered. “What, I can’t see how you are doing?”
“You never come here,” Steve shot back. Was there something he did wrong? Did his father want something from him?
Realizing that Steve was not buying the fact his father became suddenly attentive and caring, Joseph eased off the doorframe and entered the room. “I heard you are participating in The Hunt.”
“Yeah, granddad volunteered me. Apparently, he has this notion that I’d be a great candidate for it, and I need to have the “experience”,” he raised his hands and did an air-quote on the word “experience.”
Joseph shifted his feet and chuckled, “Yeah, that’s your grandfather for you. Always making decisions for himself without considering others. But you know you can opt-out of it right?” Steve closed his book, narrowing his eyes at his father.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m just saying, son, let’s be real. If you go out there, you’re going to die, and it won’t be pretty either. Your mother is already worried sick about you going into this thing without a lick of strength and skills to guide you. So, yeah, you can save yourself by opting out. It won’t hurt anyone’s feelings and I’ll make sure your grandfather knows. Okay?” He actually had the audacity to aim a smile at Steve, like he didn’t just propose that he become the ultimate coward in front of his family.
“No one has ever backed out of The Hunt before,” Steve sneered.
“I know, I know, but listen. It won’t be that problematic. I’ll talk to the elders; your granddad and I’ll make sure you catch no slack from it. Everyone will understand why you want to opt-out.”
“So, you want me to…to become a damn coward?! To become the only person in the entire Rogers family, no scratch that. In the entire history of Irish wolves, to not participate in The Hunt? Really? You really think I want that on my name along with the fact I’m a literal runt?!” His voice raised at his father because he couldn’t believe his father would try to talk him out of something so important. Now, don’t get him wrong, Steve didn’t want to participate in the ceremony to begin with, but he’d have to at some point. So, he wanted to go ahead and get it out the way, hoping that luck was on his side and he wouldn’t die in the process. But he didn’t think his father’s hatred for him was deep enough to talk Steve out of finally being seen as something more than a stain on the family. No, Joseph didn’t want to be seen as the man who had an embarrassment for a son. He’d rather his son live his life silently as a runt than go out and get himself humiliated and killed during such an important event. It would only solidify the fact that he might not be a great heir to inherit the Rogers throne. He’d be the man who carried the weakest genes.
“I didn’t come here to start a fight, Steve. I’m only trying to protect you,” he began but was immediately cut off.
“You came here to protect your image. Not once have you shown any concern for me. No, you only care about what I’d make you look like if I participated in The Hunt. Well, sorry, Dad, I’m going to be in The Hunt and if I die, so be it.”
Joseph’s eyes flared a bright, blinding blue, his anger clear across his face. “You are a selfish child! And I don’t need you to solidify my place as a family heir anyway because your grandfather has already made it known that he will announce an heir to the family this weekend. And since your uncles have no knowledge of any of the business that goes on with the family, guess who is left to lead? ME.”
“Oh great! An ego booster that you don’t need.”
“I will not be disrespected by some child who can’t even breathe straight half the time. Especially one who is willing to put their mother through the pain of losing a child!”
“Is it comparable to the pain you put her through when you fuck around with other women?” The slap didn’t register to Steve until his face was already turned towards the other wall. The sting of his cheek followed soon after and he could already feel it swelling. When he turned his head back forwards, he saw his father standing over him, eyes blazing with sweltering anger. His hand was still raised, and his breathing was coming out more raggedly as if he had just run a mile. Steve glared right back at him, hoping his face was showing the same level of hatred.
“Sir, Mr. Cashel has requested you to be at his mansion as soon as possible. He’s looking to speak with you on some of the plans for the weekend,” Bucky piped in, face stoic and composed. Joseph, hearing the man’s voice, jumped back from Steve and straightened himself out.
“Ah, yes. I’ll be there shortly,” and with that, he hurried from the room. Bucky watched the man leave, waiting until he was around a corner before entering Steve’s room and shutting the door. He quickly went to the bathroom and prepared a warm towelette covered in water and rubbing alcohol. Steve silently took it and placed it on his cheek.
They sat in silence for a good minute, listening to the sounds of cars as they passed by the front of the house. “How much did you hear?” Steve eventually asked, eyes aimed at the window.
“Enough,” Bucky supplied, sounding grim.
“Do you think I’m in the wrong?” Steve turned to look this time. Bucky’s face softened and his head slowly shook from side to side.
“No…You have every right to do it,” Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, aiming a small smile at Steve. “Plus, you have that determined look. Even if I tell you no, you’ll still do it anyway.”
“You’re damn right,” Steve grumbled. “I’ll show them all I can do it. Even if it does kill me.”
 ~~
Things with Joseph did not get resolved by the time the weekend started. Sarah, who was ignorant of the exact reason why her boys were acting strange, tried to ease the tension with conversation and excited talk about the events to come. But it did nothing but make the long drive up to the mountains more awkward. She had given up three-fourths of the way and they all just sat quietly as the radio droned on.
When they reached Cashel’s mountain estate, they saw that there were already quite a few people already there. Eight cars were neatly parked in a line towards the edge of the lot and Steve recognized two to belong to his Uncles Brennan and Aiden. Joseph must have recognized them too because he was currently cursing under his breath.
Everyone in the family knew that Joseph was not liked by his uncles, Cashel’s brothers. And while Steve didn’t know the exact details of what caused the dissonance, he faintly heard that his father had said the wrong thing at the wrong time and has been on their hate list since then. Add that to the fact they thought of him as a lowly individual and constantly berated him whenever things went to hell. If they thought that bad of him now, wait until they heard he was being considered as the next leader. Steve can already imagine the looks of disapproval and distaste.
Thankfully, Steve and his mother never had an issue with Cashel’s brothers. If anything, they adored Sarah and Steve and wondered how both of them ended up stuck with Joseph for a husband and a father. It was hilarious and they made Joseph the butt of their jokes whenever he came around. And while Sarah tried to defend him, Steve always laughed along and agreed with half the shit they said. Mainly because it was true.
They climbed out of the car and walked towards the front of the mansion, already consumed by its great shadow. The large wooden front door was opened to reveal Cashel, who looked down upon them with a huge smile and a glass of wine in his right hand. “Son! Daughter-in-law! Grandson! Welcome!” he cried. Deeper within the mansion, music could be heard, and someone’s laughter cut through.
“Hello, father,” Joseph uttered as he crossed the threshold. He bypassed Cashel’s open arms and made his way further inside. However, it was noted the way he looked around as if looking for someone. Or maybe trying to hide from a specific pair of individuals.
Sarah, on the other hand, walked into her father-in-law’s open arms and hugged him. She smiled brightly and started giving compliments to the Cashel about the house and how she was looking forward to another year of enjoyment. Cashel thanked her and eased her inside. But he paused and looked back at Steve. Steve stood just outside the door and looked up at his grandfather’s face. The man’s merry smile was replaced with something darker, more mischievous. As if he was hiding a secret that only he knew.
“And hello Steven,” the man grinned, making Steve suddenly uncomfortable.
“Hey, granddad,” he muttered.
“Are you excited about this weekend?” The smile was gone, replaced by his signature intense stare.
“I don’t know if I’ll do good. I mean, I’m not really cut out for…The Hunt, or anything. I don’t want to disappoint you or the family,” Steve gulped, hating he was showing any slight weakness in front of Cashel. But what he didn’t expect was his grandfather’s firm grip on his shoulder, pulling him into the mansion and leading him through the hallway towards the music.
“Don’t worry Steven. I believe you are fully capable of completing the ceremony. And hell, you might even surprise us.” Steve looked up at his grandfather’s face, trying to read the man, but there was nothing but a knowing smile. And before he could inquire the man about what he said, he was called away.
Previous Chapter <-- ---> Next Chapter 
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cherry-holland · 5 years ago
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Dmitri Island: ch 1
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A/n: here’s the first chapter!!! Sorry it’s so long I wanted to get the reader and Tom’s back history started!! But I hope y’all enjoy it 🥰
Beep, beep, beep.
[[MORE]]
The blaring sound of your alarm rang through your ears, waking you from your dreamless slumber. Groaning, you fiddled around in the darkness searching for your phone.
Where is this damn thing? And why is it so loud?
Once you found it, you brought it close to your face and stopped the obnoxious alarm from ringing anymore to give you a peace of mind. Your phone cleared the alarm away from the screen as you saw a row of messages from Tom, your best friend.
T: loooooooove, WAKE UP!!!!!!
T: (y/n/n), I need you!!!!!!! 😭
T: Come overrrrrr 🥺
T: this is verrrrry important (y/n/n), n I need ur help ASAP xxx
T: (Y/N)!!!! ANSWER ME THIS IS URGENT 😰😰😭😭🥺🥺
“Oh my gosh,” you let out a loud laugh as you scroll through the extensive, dramatic messages left by Tom.
Some say it was crazy how you met Tom. You had just moved to London after your job had you transfer to run their UK division from your cozy, well-known New York office. You were so excited for the opportunity for change, even though you loved your NY team. You were desperate for a change of pace, so it was only natural for you to say yes to the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Not too long after you moved, you were checking out the scene that engulfed your new apartment, and had stumbled on a cute & quaint coffee shop. You walked in, and was in the middle of picking up your coffee when you felt a stiff, dark figure bump into your left shoulder, causing the coffee to spill everywhere.
You let out a small gasp as the scalding cup of coffee landed on the sleeve of your grey sweater. How in the hell does this happen to me? You were about to curse out the person who bumped you when you looked up and saw what was the most beautiful boy you had ever seen.
He was dressed in all black, with the collar of his pea coat cuffed up to cover his neck from the London cold. He definitely looked to be about your age, maybe a bit younger if anything. He had the most gorgeous head of dark brown curls, and they looked so glossy and soft under the warm lights of the dim cafe. His dark brown eyes were wide with fear (probably because of the scowl you were sporting) and embarrassment, but still there was a glimmer of something else you couldn’t make out. His chiseled face was flushing a deep red, and his mouth was hung wide open.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry, love. I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t see you there and-“
“No, no, it’s okay,” you sighed, feeling the creases of your forehead lift at the sight of the boy in front of you. “It was an accident, it’s all good.”
“Oh, good,” the boy relaxed, “because I thought you were gonna full-on beat me up.”
Your ears perked at his charming British accent, something you still hadn’t gotten used to after being in the UK for about a week at that point. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. It’s not usually a good thing when someone does what you did where I’m from, guess it was a quick reaction.”
“It’s okay, darling,” the boy smiled. “Where I’m from, it’s usually a cause for conversation with a pretty girl.”
“Hmm, is that so?” You felt your cheeks get hot at his comment and tried to flush it down by feigning confidence. “Well that’s a funny way to get someone’s attention. Guess that’s how it is over here, innit?”
“Yeah, it’s an unusual way, but it works quite often for me,” the boy winked at you as you felt the heat return to your face. “I’m Tom, by the way.”
“Hi Tom, I’m (y/n),” you replied, sticking out your hand to reach Tom’s already outstretched hand.
After that initial conversation, the two of you sat down in that coffee shop and talked for hours, getting to know one another. You found out he was an actor, and that he had just left New York after filming the new Spider-Man movie, and he found out you were from New York and the reason for your move.
Ever since that day, the two of you were inseparable. Even Tom’s friends and family would comment at how he always seemed to be by your side, but it never traveled over that line. That invisible line between friends and lovers, despite the fact that it felt like you two were always dancing around that line.
You were pulled out of your thoughts at your phone dinging, signaling another text coming through. However, it was not Tom that was ringing you this time, but Harrison, Tom’s best friend who was also yours.
Haz: dude, if you don’t get your 🍑 over here ASAP, tommo’s gonna combust 🙃
You: lmao, I’m coming!!!! Tell the div to chill and I’ll be by within the hour 💃🏽
You type away, and went to your contacts and searched for Tom’s number, hitting the call button as you peeled yourself out of bed to grab some caffeine.
“You know, a simple reply would have been really great, (y/n). Almost gave me a heart attack,” Tom’s dramatic voice filled your kitchen after not even one ring.
“Well good morning to you, too. Tommy, you know Saturday’s are my days to sleep in. Not everyone has the requirement to wake up at ungodly hours on weekends to exercise,” you chuckled. Sometimes, being friends with an actor can be so... dramatic.
“It’s a part of the job, darling. This is my line of work,” Tom replied, and you could hear the sarcasm dripping in his voice.
“Sorry your line of work sucks,” you snorted as the beeping of your coffee maker sounded, signaling the end of the brewing.
“(Y/n), are you seriously still drinking coffee? We have to change that - you’re a Londoner now!” Tom shouted.
“No way, Tommy. I’m a New Yorker through and through, and there is no way I’m gonna have tea before coffee. Once a New Yorker-“
“Always a New Yorker. I know,” Tom interrupted, causing both of you to laugh. “So, darling, when are you popping on over?”
“Soon. I still have to get presentable, you know. Can’t come over in my pj’s,” you speak while taking a big gulp of the sweet caffeine in your favorite mug. It was a mug Tom and Harrison had given you for Christmas, and it had a picture of the New York City skyline covering the entirety of the mug. They gave it to you because it was the first Christmas you were not able to go home, so the two of them, Tom’s brothers Sam & Harry, and you guys’ other best friend, Tuwaine, brought Christmas in New York to you. Tom had organized the whole thing, and it made your heart swell.
There were so many moments in you guys’ friendship that twisted your heart in ways that should have killed you in the best way. But that day was the day everything changed for you. The way the day was planned, down to the gift that he and Harrison (but mainly Tom, because Harrison sometimes has a tendency of forgetting things) had gotten you, made you realize you were falling for your best friend.
It was hard not to - Tom is gorgeous. Like the kind of gorgeous that could take your breath away. And what made it even better is his sweet heart. He loved people with his whole heart, and he always made sure everyone who was around him was well taken care of. Despite his movie-star status, he still remained humble, which was so admirable to you.
“(Y/n/n), you could come over in a garbage bag and it would still be acceptable in my house,” Tom giggled, interrupting your thoughts.
“Oh hush, you. Okay, lemme get ready and I’ll be there in 30!”
“Okay, darling! See you soon!”
With that, you hung up and padded over to your room. You opened the sliding doors of your closet, sifting through the cozy linens and sweaters lined up in color order. London was a lot colder than New York during the fall, which you appreciated, but sometimes it got hard finding an outfit to fit this chilly weather. So you went with your go-to.
Working in the city taught you a lot about fashion, especially working with a fashion magazine. You were always up-to-date on trends because of it, and being editor-in-chief, it was necessary. Most people would go for a full-on sweatsuit with old sneakers, but your mind was trained to always look put-together, even when you were being “bummy”.
You pulled out your black jogger sweatpants and a long-sleeved, white, cropped graphic tee with an artsy-looking face on it, and your undergarments. You threw it on, and fast-walked to your bathroom, where you washed your face and brushed your teeth. Afterwards, you put on a little bit of concealer, blush, mascara, and eyebrows, and ruffled your hair out of its bun. You didn’t care to style it because it was your day off, and you were just going to hang out with your best friends, so it was highly unnecessary. Also, you were having a pretty decent hair day, so you just went with it.
Before leaving, you grabbed your black and white-speckled pea coat and slid on some pointed black flats. You took your keys and purse, and before opening the door, you grabbed your phone and headed out the door.
Fifteen minutes later, you pulled up to Tom and Harrison’s apartment and hit their buzzer four times. You hear the lock click, and you quickly walked into the warm building.
You could hear the chatter of multiple boys behind the door of their apartment before opening it. Tom and Harrison always knew to leave the door unlocked when you came over, mainly because of laziness, but it was definitely more of a comfortability, which you didn’t understand.
“You know, boys, having your door unlocked is super dangerous. I could’ve been a murderer for all you know,” you shouted as you stepped into the cozy modern apartment.
“(Y/n), we know it’s you. You have such a unique buzzer, so we always know,” Harrison rolled his eyes as he walked over to give you a hug.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Where’s the fussy boy at?” You replied as you were taking off your coat.
“Over here!” Tom perked up from behind the massive dark grey couch. His wet, post-shower curls bounced up from over the cushions, his face painted with a huge grin.
“What are y’all doing?” You asked as you made your way over to sit by Tom on the couch. While walking over, you saw the heads of more familiar sets of brown curly hair turn to face you.
“We’re looking to see where we all wanna go next on holiday, (y/n/n)!” Sam, one of the twins grinned.
“Yeah, we’re going on holidayyyyy!” Harry, the other twin, perked up, his grin reaching the freckles that lined his cheeks.
“No way! Is this what you were bugging me about, Holland?” You bump Tom in the shoulder as you sat down.
“Yes! I told you it was urgent! We need help finding a place,” Tom replied, tugging your arm in fake desperation.
“Okay, okay. Let’s look and see what we can find,” you sighed, eyes lighting up in playfulness at his response.
You took out your phone and began searching. It felt like forever, because there were so many different places you guys looked at. And it seemed like everyone was saying “no” to everyone’s ideas.
Twenty minutes later, your landed on a page talking about this island in the states that you had never heard of. The header of the article read, DMITRI ISLAND: THE BEST DESTINATION YOU NEVER HEARD OF. You figured, hmm, this could be worth a shot. You skimmed the article quickly, and as you were reading it, you knew in your heart this was it.
“Hey, have y’all heard about this? There’s this island that’s off the coastline where there’s only a population of 110 people, and there’s all this historic stuff about it and the only mode of transportation is golf carts,” you said, scrolling through the beautiful photos of the island you found on google.
“No I don’t think I have. What does it look like?” Tom asked, leaning over your shoulder as you scroll through. He rested his cheek on your shoulder while his curious brown eyes scanned the screen, causing a faint blush creep onto your face.
“Guys, we’re supposed to be looking for vacation spots, not desolate islands,” Harrison groaned into his phone, giving your right arm a little shove.
“Oh come on, Haz, this is a vacation spot! There’s multiple accesses to the beach, a live lounge where music plays all throughout the weekend, a tequila distillery, and a massive golf course in one of the hotels that are there,” you laugh, returning the shove into his left arm while wiggling your eyebrows.
“A golf course?! Mate, we’re definitely going. (Y/n), book the ferry tickets!” Harry perked up from his current binge of Stranger Things on the enormous SmartTV to jump out of his seat, shaking Harrison’s right shoulder in agreement.
You had to laugh to yourself at your friends. They were all so different, and such dorks, you just couldn’t help but admire their banter and energy. “Alright, y’all, the ferry tickets are booked. Vacation, here we come!”
A chorus of shouts and cheers erupted in the expansive living room of the boys’ apartment as the excitement and promise of a relaxing vacation starts to become a reality.
You know the boys needed this vacation, especially Tom. They all have been working so hard to get their careers on the path that they desire, and Tom has his fair share of craziness this past year. With Far From Home, Endgame, the press tours, and his other projects that were coming up, you knew he was exhausted beyond belief. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but he desperately needed a break from reality. And that’s what you vowed you would do - get him and the boys a chance to breathe without people constantly bombarding them with questions, invading their personal life.
You were determined to make this vacation worthwhile, and as you looked down at Tom, you saw a new glow lit deep within him. His smile was practically taking up his entire face, he had a small flush of pink on the apples of his cheeks, and a glint of excitement in his deep brown eyes.
And it was a glow you wanted to continue seeing in him.
A glow you wanted to be the reason for.
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likehi5 · 4 years ago
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Hiring a Local Basement Contractor: Remodeling, Finishing & Waterproofing
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Basement professionals lead the range of contractors. You can find a company that offers broad finishing services. Or you can find some experts who complete the job piecemeal, starting with a waterproofing company and then flooring, electrical, and plumbing pros.
You need to know how to find the right contractor, what to ask, and how to work with him. This guide can help you whether you want to finish your basement or just add waterproofing.
When You Hire A Contractor To Finish A Basement
Basement extension is often the most cost-effective option to add square feet to the floor plan of your home, but it can only work well if you take the time to find and interview specialists.
Completing your basement is a great investment in time and money, and the rewards can be even more significant. Hiring the right expert will add a significant amount of living space while increasing the value of your home by about 70% of the project cost.
Professionals hired usually take care of
• Flooring
• Insulation
• Building Walls, and
• Finishing the Ceiling.
You may need to hire subcontractors to provide waterproofing, plumbing, or electricity services. Ask your contractor if they specialize in these services in advance.
Hiring Tips in The Research Phase
Some contractors offer you the choice of flooring in the basement and help you assess the advantages and disadvantages. Others simply expect you to make all the design and material decisions. Know what to expect before hiring an expert.
When you start looking for a professional to help you complete the room, look for a few special things to help you find the right expert:
• Set Your Budget: Finishing your basement expenses between $10K and $50K and more, so it’s crucial to know what you can afford.
• Go Beyond The Price: Take the extra time to view photos of each company’s previous work to avoid choosing an inferior professional.
• Look For Online Reviews and Ratings: Especially on independent sites such as HighFive Listings.
• Check License and Insurance Information.
• Pay Attention To Communication: This is a large and often lengthy project. Make sure that the company you choose respects your wishes.
Questions To A Contractor Who Is Completing A Basement
When the first investigation is complete, contact all the companies that meet your criteria and ask several specific questions:
• What experiences have you had with the basement finishes?
• Are you registered, licensed, and insured with the state?
• Will a permit be required for this project, and can you help me obtain it?
• How much time do you think the project will take?
• Will, you offer cost options for various materials?
• Which part of the project will you complete and which will have to be awarded to subcontractors?
• Will you manage and supervise local subcontractors?
• Do you have references to previous works that I can contact?
Following this last question, you will find references for each company that still meets your criteria. Knowing which questions to ask each customer can help you to recognize the quality of the work.
• Were you satisfied with the project?
• Was the work done on time?
• Were there unexpected expenses?
• Would you use this contractor?
• Would you recommend this professional?
Find The Best  Basement Remodeling Companies
Your basement might already be finished, but it needs complete renovation work. In this case, it is worth working with an expert who specializes in remodeling.
This professional will work as a general contractor, and perform specialized tasks such as waterproofing, electrical, and sanitary work. Unless you plan to change the room layout, these tasks will not be as important as in the case of basement finishing.
What Renovation Professionals Should Look Out For:
The most important decision you make when you embark on a basement remodeling project is to select your contractors. When deciding between many companies, price should not be your only concern. Rather, take these steps to drive a balance between quality and budget:
• Set A Price Range: With an average basement remodeling expense of about $20K, knowing what you can afford should be the first step.
• Start With A Wide-Ranging Search: Write down a list of contractors in your area who can potentially do the job.
• Pay Attention To Customer Reviews: Online reviews and ratings are a great approach to narrow down your search.
• Check Your License and Insurance: Consider only experts who have the necessary papers.
• Use Your Judgment: Given the length of the project, you must be able to get along with the workers on your property.
What to Ask Basement Renovation or Remodeling Services
The first steps above should have left you a few companies that meet all the criteria. Contact them and ask some specific questions to evaluate their qualifications:
• How long have you been renovating basements?
• What formal training did you have for this work?
• Do you belong to any professional associations?
• Do you have a state-issued license and registration?
• Are you insured?
• Do you give written guarantees?
• Can you evaluate how long it will take?
• Will you offer options for different materials?
• Do you have any references I can contact?
Once you have references from previous clients, ask them several questions to get a feel for their experience with the professional.
The Choice of A Basement Waterproofing or Repair Pro
Not all renovation projects are aesthetic, some are just necessary to keep your home dry. A basement waterproofing company can ensure this with a variety of solutions, ranging from installing indoor sump pumps to French outdoor drainage.
A couple of companies offer all services, but well trained in one or the other. Some of these work is done directly within your foundation, so it is essential to find an expert with the appropriate expertise.
First Steps in Selecting A Contractor
Reputation is the key to this kind of professionalism. Any work that involves your foundation needs someone who knows exactly what it is doing. The cost of sealing your basement can cost you $10K or more. Make sure the money is spent wisely.
• Know Your Problem: It could be just a $500 solution, or you might need a new foundation. If in doubt, ask for free foundation repair estimates.
• Do Your research: How many professionals in your area can do the work you need to keep your room safe and dry?
• Check Reviews and Ratings: High ratings are great. In-depth reviews that detail the work for a client are even better.
• Check Licensing: Do not work with someone who is not licensed and registered with the state.
• Understand Warranties: Consider only companies that back up their talk of quality with a guarantee that they can solve problems.
Ask Professionals Who are Waterproof, Sealed, or Repair
The interview process is critical. If you bring companies out to make you an offer, sit down for a few very specific questions to help you determine their quality.
• What’s your estimated timeframe for the job?
• How many years are you in the business?
• Have you had faults with the systems you installed? What went worse, and how will you settle it this time?
• Would you suggest exterior or interior waterproofing, and why?
• Which sump pumps would you recommend if any? Where would you fit them?
• Why do you think your proposed project would be the right solution for me?
• Do you offer assurance and what does it cover?
• Can you provide any references for past work like mine?
Answers to these questions tell you almost everything you need to know. Look for honest answers that acknowledge past mistakes, but also a way forward to ensure that this doesn’t happen again. Experience shines via in some of the more specific questions, even if you’re not a waterproofing expert yourself.
DIY (Do It Yourself) vs. Hiring A Basement Professional To Remodel or Refinish
The first question most homeowners need to answer is whether they need to hire an outside professional. In most cases, the answer is yes. If you are an expert on one of the following topics, you may be able to save some money by doing it yourself.
Can I Finish My Basement?
You can finish your basement, but only if you have extensive knowledge of HVAC, electrical, plumbing, and general contractor. Start by contacting your local municipality to gets any essential permitting.
Be prepared to detect potential problems as soon as you start working on walls and floors. Also, the project takes time. If you only work on weekends, it is common for this sort of project to take two years or more.
Can I Frame My Basement?
Do you understand how to install a floating wall? The answer to this question is central to understanding whether you can frame your basement.
Simply installing a few 2x4s is not enough. The floor under your foundation, and therefore your cement floor, will expand and contract over time. Floating walls ensure that this movement does not seriously compromise the integrity of the structure of your home. Therefore, working with a specialist is important.
Finishing Basement Walls Yourself
The finishing layer over your wall frame needs to take floating walls into account. Whether you want to install drywall or wood paneling, you need to make sure you leave enough room for an expanding and contracting floor.
It requires precise knowledge of how much space to leave on the floor and how to anchor the wall. Most homeowners are unfamiliar with this process, so it is best left to licensed contractors.
How to Install Basement Floors
Installing your basement floor is similar to other levels of the house, with a few additional complications.
• Moisture: You must keep your floor dry in a room with potentially high humidity.
• Obstacles: You must protect the integrity of your French drain indoors or other types of existing waterproofing.
If you are unsure about both, hire a professional.
Finishing Basements With Low Ceilings
On the level below your living space. They complete the space, but they must also have easy access to all the sanitary facilities and electricity that flows into the house. That’s what makes drop ceilings so popular.
You need to know exactly how much space you need to leave, how to support all your ceiling beams, and how to avoid power lines. Work with a contractor who can help you.
FAQs
What Can I Predict From My Company For Basement Finishing?
What you can expect from your finishing company depends on the exact professionals you hire. Some will sit down to plan the detailed floor plan and choice of materials with you; others will expect you to make those decisions.
Regardless of this, your contractor expects you to clean the room and rid it of debris and clutter. Make their work as easy as possible by providing them with easy access to and from the basement. If the contractors are going to be exceptionally dusty, as after sanding drywall, get some carpet parts from a store and place them in a path to the door.
Are Basement Finishing and Remodeling Professionals the Same?
Many, but everyone, basement remodeling experts are the same or offer comparable services. Finishing specialists tend to do remodeling work as well, but remodeling specialists cannot always finish a room. That’s because the procedure tends to be more difficult and involves more subtasks. Be sure what you’re looking for when hiring one or the other to avoid confusion.
Is it Worth it To Finish a Basement?
The completion of your basement is worthwhile, both for the resale value and for the additional living space. It is the easiest way to add livable spaces to your house without building an addition.
How Should I Business With Basement Contractors on My Property?
Proper etiquette can make everyone’s job easier on a major home improvement project, and these contractors spend most of their time out of the way. It’s very convenient for everyone involved, but it’s very important to keep the lines of communication open throughout your project.
Brewing a large pot of coffee and giving a cup to your crew is one of the best things a homeowner can do when making a major renovation. It doesn’t cost you much, but it lets your crew know that you appreciate the work they do. Homeowners who bring a little warmth to their contractors often get ten times as much productivity or even small extras back for free.
How Can I Get a Cheap Basement Remodel?
When it comes to basement projects, cheaper is not always better. Low quality work can threaten the integrity of your home and pose future dangers to everyone living in it. A few cost-effective points can help you optimize your budget:
• Get multiple quotes to make sure you get reasonable prices from all companies.
• If you are qualified, you should do some of the work yourself.
• Organise experts such as electricians or plumbers, rather than leaving it to the general contractor for a fee.
• Choose your materials wisely, such as vinyl over ceramic tiles.
Where Can I Find Remodeling and Basement Contractors Near Me?
In any part of the nation where most houses have basements, finishing professionals are easy to find. You also need to make sure you work with qualified experts. HighFive Listings allows previous customers to post reviews, comments, and reviews of the company they have chosen.
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shadows-twilight · 5 years ago
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RWBY Volume 7, Chapter 4
These late posts might end up becoming the norm. My work schedule unfortunately has me working weekends every other week. Anyways, here are my thoughts and opinions on Chapter 4 of RWBY Volume 7, "Pomp and Circumstance"
SPOILERS BELOW:
Before the shadow was revealed to be Amity Coliseum, my first thoughts went to Independence Day.
I don't know who the sheep faunus and guy with facial tattoos are (outside of the fact that they probably work for Robyn Hill, given the emblem they're wearing) but with designs like that, I imagine they'll be proper named characters once we get to meet Hill's faction properly.
When everyone was walking triumphantly out of the mine, did anyone else get serious Avenger's vibes from the music?
Wow, Rooster Teeth's just giving us the pair names themselves these days. I can roll with it.
Hmm, I'm not sure I mind Harriet's little "not friend's speech". For some, it's best to keep relationship's professional and leave the personal stuff for the home life. That being said, I hope RWBY and JNR don't take to heart in away that makes them doubt their own relationships (especially with the looks Blake and Yang were exchanging throughout it). That being said, if the one theory about the Ace-Ops being evil does come true, I hope that gets brought up again during they're big confrontation. Harriet: I warned you not to confuse the two. Whoever she's fighting: That may work for you, but not for us! Is there a reason everyone's being so mean to Marrow? I mean, he's a bit of an immature goofball, but we just saw in the previous episode that he can be counted on where it matters most. I don't want to immediately call faunus racism but it can't exactly be ruled out yet either.
Once again, RIP #FRWBY. I like that Ruby and Jaune were able to recognize Forest.
Wow, Jaune is not afraid to call Ironwood out on his bullshit. That being said, anyone else finding him talking about how he's not blind to Mantle's issues? I mean, I know government is a pretty complex system and he's not (technically) it's sovereign leader, but a lot of the things the fact that he's able to turn it into a police state while not being able to do shit for it's overall security (as evidenced by Grimm managing to run around for several minutes before Penny, the only seemingly effective security measure they have, managed to show up) seems incredibly shady. I mean, surely he has at least enough power to handle that.
That's odd, you'd think with this show we'd be used to the smell of terrible parenting and overall scuminess, but for some reason the odor seems particularly sto- oh, nevermind, Jacques is here.
Anyone else notice that the ship he flew in on is the same kind that Winter flew in Volume 3?
Now now, James, I feel it is very unprofessional for a politician to pick sides in an upcoming election for the same position. I mean, I totally agree with you, but still.
God, everything about Weiss's reunion with her father is just amazing. She's no longer afraid to stand up to him, she's shutting down ever attempt he's making to talk down to her, hell we even have a small bonus of Ironwood sticking up for her. Of course, when intimidation doesn't work, go straight to guilt. Classy.
Aaah, she said it! She said it out loud! Weiss called Team RWBY her family! This makes me incredibly happy ^-^
I'm just going to say what we all already know, Winter deliberately wait until Jackass was gone before rolling up.
Penny, thank you for, just, being you. Words can not describe how great it is to have you back.
Ironwood: It goes without saying that this Arena holds significance to all of us Penny: I died here :)
Ok, I really like how kind and validating Ironwood is being with our heroes, but does anyone else feel like he's almost...buttering them up for something? For some reason I've been getting the feeling that there's something he hasn't been telling them, that he's planning on using them for something, and all of this is just setting them up for it later down the line. I want to think that his kindness is genuine, but for some reason I just can't.
I don't know why, but it felt good to see Penny's swords again. Maybe in the future, Velvet can get a new picture to replace the one she used at Beacon.
I know it's easy to use the (apparently quite memeable) selfie as a Bumbleby moment, but I just want to throw it out there, Blake is sporting what has got to be the fakest smile I have seen on this show yet. I mean, it's sweet she would go along with it for Yang's sake, but that is not a "Sweet, I get to spend a moment with the woman that I love" smile, that is a "Oh shit, there's a camera in my face that I have to smile for. Umm, smile!" smile.
Holy shit, we're actually talking about Summer? Like, at all? Is...is that even allowed?
I have to admit, it would be nice if we were able to get Yang into these family talks.
Everything about Ruby's "undercover" line was just hilarious. From the animation to Lindsay's delivery, it was just perfect.
Wow, they really are trying to set up Vine and Elm as older Ren and Nora, aren't they?
Hmm, I wonder if Jaune's little escort mission is going to lead into that "real thirsty moms" bit that Miles gave us at RTX.
So, is every episode going to end with Tyrian and/or Watts doing something shady? I mean, it's not a problem, certainly better then Volume 5's cliffhanger fetish, I just wonder if that's what we're going for this time around.
Ooh, lot to unpack here. First off, apparently anyone can just insist their way into Schnee Manor without any worries about security. Second, apparently Watts and Jacques knew each other before Watson joined his Moriarty. Third, Watts was assumed to be dead by Jacques and, more than likely by extension, the rest of Atlas. This probably explains why know one seemed to suspect Watts when someone started playing Operation with their tech.
I really want to know what makes Jacques think that any of his employees in Mantle would actually vote for him? I mean, that would have to require one hell of a smear campaign against Hill in order for him to be the preferable option There seems to be a large emphasis on cake this episode.
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matinjapan · 5 years ago
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Day trippin’
Controversial, maybe slightly provocative opinion, but travelling can kind of suck.
There are a few big caveats to this opinion though. And it’s massively contrived. This post is basically just an extension of a half thought I had while in Yokohama today (actually now yesterday).
So yeah, Yokohama. Again. I made the decision to head down on the morning of (the day trip). Just for something to do. It was Sunday morning. I’d already gone for a quick run. Didn’t have any other plans, and so after quickly mulling a few options, I thought heading back to Yokohama would be an alright use of time.
I could’ve just hung out at home. Even just to do something as pedestrian as read (I’ve a massive backlog), or maybe even write, like I’m trying to do now at 10pm. But there’s this thing within my psyche that makes me feel guilty if I stay at home on a day off. Guilt booted me out the door at around noon.
It was super sunny. Cold though, with a pretty icy, substantial wind. But I learnt my lesson from the last trip and wore an appropriate amount of clothes. Jumper, and crucially, jacket.
Yokohama was cool on first visit, but the decision to go back wasn’t driven by any great desire to do anything (nothing specific anyway). If all options were on the table, I would’ve definitely preferred to go climbing. But I’ve done something to my elbow, and so, I’m trying to rest it. I’ve had a month off, and It’s not really getting better like I had hoped. Hence, I have to scrape the barrel in terms of organising non-descript day trips.
Which I don’t normally do. For the past year, a lot of my venturing has been tied to climbing. A bit of surfing, far less snow, and a few mountain bike ventures, too. Since arriving in Japan, all my activity-based travels have fallen to close to zero. Tokyo just ain’t as conducive, though a big part is me being (kind of) injured.
Anyway, this non-descript day tip led me to the thought bubble about travel. Travelling is, like I said, kind of shit. Main caveat: it’s shit if you don’t attach it to something you want to be doing.
Food, skateboarding, giant Sequoia’s, nouveau impressionists, taking photos of cobblestones, whatever. If something you’re keen on is the impetus for the travelling, then it typically makes for a fun time. But if you just go and aimlessly traipse around, it’s not necessarily that fun. As cool as I found Yokohama the first time, there’s nothing really there that I was going back for.
Continuing the thought bubble, there’s another caveat: I guess even without travelling somewhere to do something that you want to be doing, travelling can also be good if it’s to spend time with people you want to spend time with. Yeah, you can do that back home (depending on where your friends are), but the solid chunk of time that accompanies a trip can be great for dedicated time spend’age (with the peoples).
Travelling is also great if you’re genuinely adventuring (yes, another caveat; this whole theory is turning to mush). This is the type of travelling I daydream about, but don’t actually ever do. It’s hard though. To get off the beaten path, and properly trail blaze. To do something that not many others are doing requires some pretty dedicated planning. I’m thinking on, or in, the order of walking/travelling between some stupidly remote destinations. The type of trip where you can properly get away from it all. And risk dying while you’re at it.
Not to everyone’s liking, and polar opposite to the standard pool and cocktail type trip that a lot of people froth on. If you’re anywhere near a Starbucks, then you’re probably not adventuring. Needless to say, Yokohama has more than a few Starbucks; I wasn’t adventuring yesterday.
I think Starbucks is what contributed to my initial thought bubble. Walking along the street, seeing a few people holding coffee, ambling around Yokohama with no real intention, just seemed a bit shit. Maybe they really fucking loved Starbucks, and were mid-worldwide-taste-testing-tour. But more likely, they were probably just in Yokohama for something to do; being lame like me.
Continuing on with the whole Starbucks thing, I didn’t partake. Instead, I grabbed one of the Family Mart machine-made coffees for 100 yen. Cheap skates’ delight.
Aside from a coffee and accompanying rice-triangle thing (I believe they’re called Onigiri), all I did in Yokohama was walk. Past the marooned cruise liner filled with novel coronavirus, and a fair way through and around the coastal suburbs, which kind of reminded me of Sydney’s north shore. Less greenery and foliage but pretty similar geographical vibe.
I also skirted China town, but thought better of heading too far in, lest I expose myself to a virus laden package.
Anyway, I think I’ll be a bit more diligent with my travelling (does a day trip even count as travelling?). Hopefully the elbow improves, because I’d really like to go bouldering and/or climbing around Japan. Admittedly, climbing is almost as arbitrary and meaningless/meaningful as going somewhere, just because. But the ‘almost’ part gives it the edge. 
In non-Yokohama’ing news, a friend made it to Japan last week, and we ended up shredding the gnar for a few days at Nozawaonsen. That was a cool trip (ticked all the above mentioned boxes), even though it has been the worst season for decades. We were lucky. When we arrived, we were greeted by a couple of consecutive days of 30cm of fresh. The base that the snow was falling on could’ve been more substantial (a lot of small twigged bushes to plow through), but it was still pretty sweet.  
I’m actually thinking about booking again this weekend. It’s apparently amazing right now. Around 2 metres of fresh in the last 10 days. But it’s supposed to warm up on Wednesday and rain all the way through Friday/Saturday. Not really worth it if that’s the case. Goddamn. Maybe a weekend in instead, reading. And lamenting that I didn’t get out. Ha.
Photos are from the last few weeks of Yokohama, Nozawaonsen, Tokyo and potentially other forgettable day trip places.
Adios
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