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imnotwolverine · 4 years

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The Accidental Family - Chapter 5

Henry Cavill x OFC - multi-chapter

< Chap 4 | Chap 5 How to dad | Chap 6 >

Disclaimer: fluff, sadness, memory loss, some strong language

Word count: 2.098

Author’s note: I had a home spa day and I may or may not have made WAY too many bubbles in the bathtub..which then in turn kind of floated out into our adjoining kitchen and...yea...I’m posting this to procrastinate the clean up of ..THAT. Wish me luck. 😂

(Link to my Masterlist)

It was not unusual for Henry to be up this early, and yet Phoebe was slightly surprised to find him in the kitchen, the smell of coffee searing into her nose as she was welcomed with the sight of a kitchen island crowded with paper folders and the family whiteboard scribbled full with an enormous, intricately filled out schedule.

Henry was still working on it as she quietly stepped over the threshold, her arms crossing before her bathrobe as she watched him bend down, ass sticking out as he leaned in to scribble something in the far right bottom corner.

‘Morning.’ She chimed, making Henry jerk up in surprise, his eyes looking at her like she had just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

‘Whatcha doin’?’ She leaned into the kitchen island and looked at the papers that were strewn over the smooth light grey marble.

‘Oh, ehm, just ..trying to find some order in this mess.’ He shrugged and clicked the cap back onto the whiteboard marker, his fingers pushing it on the small whiteboard ledge before he fully turned towards his wife, her dazed eyes still blinking at him with mild confusion.

‘You see I found all these things you keep around. School schedules, doctor’s appointments, swimming classes, soccer, eh..you know. I wanted to have an overview.’ He shrugged, making Phoebe cry out laughing.

‘You did what now?!’

‘Wait, don’t tell me you have a schedule just like this laying around..’

‘No, no. Eh..’ Phoebe looked over at the coffee machine, deciding she’d need a cuppa before she’d dive into Henry’s findings.

‘Want some coffee as well?’

‘No, no, I’m good. Gotta keep fit, so I can get back in the saddle as quickly as possible.’ He jabbed into the air, as if ready to beat an invisible opponent.

‘Silly man.’ Phoebe chuckled, pouring some of the hot brew into a mug with a smiling elephant on it - yes suddenly Henry owned a whole arsenal of silly mugs. Squinting his eyes playfully he studied Phoebe:

‘Silly stupid or silly smart?’ Henry asked, but all Phoebe did was shrug, turning a pair of mischievous eyes at him while she sipped on her coffee.

‘Anyways. I think, if the doctor’s okay with it, I can start squeezing in office visits between Sam’s soccer practise and Piper’s speech therapy and..’

‘Hen..’ Phoebe sighed, walking up to him to brush a hand over his arm, his shirt fitting snugly around his large chest, attracting her gaze for a short moment. ‘..one step at a time okay?’

‘Yes-yes, I know. I..’

And then she chuckled, earning an even more confused look from him. ‘What’s so funny?’ His brow furrowed.

‘Oh..it’s just. I never thought I’d get you to..draft school appointment schedules.’

‘Why’s that?’

Phoebe hesitantly licked her lips, her stormy blues meeting his aquamarine, his face betraying that he truly didn’t understand. ‘You were at work..a lot.’

‘Oh.’

Henry slowly turned around, also looking back at the busy schedule; it was indeed quite impossible to fit all this in with the 14-hour workdays he had always been so accustomed to.

‘..fuck.’ He breathed softly, scolding his old-Henry-self for being such a workaholic idiot.

‘That’s okay. We were a pretty good team.’ Phoebe leaned into the kitchen island, her hand lowering the coffee cup to her hip as she quirked her head to the side to study the schedule he had drawn up.

‘So which of these did I do with the kids?’ He asked hesitantly.

‘Soccer, on Saturday.’

Henry blinked at the 40-something other items that were listed on the meticulously drawn out grid. ‘Oh my.’

‘Yea..’ Phoebe grinned. ‘There’s a good reason why I quit my job as a nurse.’

‘You were a nurse?’

Phoebe turned her head to answer, but decided not to, her lips instead just twitching up in a half-smirk. ‘For a while. But at least now I know exactly what to do when one of the cubs run a fever.’

‘Did you like being a nurse?’

She shrugged and took another sip of her coffee. ‘Wiping shit of a patient’s ass or my kid? I’ll choose my kid any day of the week.’ She winked at him.

‘Sounds wonderful.’ Henry chuckled. ‘And about that; shouldn’t the children move home at some point? Or..you go to them, or..?’ He wished to scratch his head as he did whenever he was unsure, but Phoebe was quick to stop him, her hand catching his wrist before he could move it up higher.

‘Eventually.’ She swallowed harshly and released his wrist. ‘I just don’t know when.’ Her eyes moved back to the board as she continued with slight melancholy. ‘There’s only so much you can plan.’

‘Hi Danny.’ Relief flooded Henry’s limbs as the amazonian goddess of a woman stepped into the office he had been left in some fifteen minutes earlier.

It would be just a short visit to the office, the studio having postponed the production of the new Witcher season until things were cleared out; Henry’s doctors were not very eager to give any green lights until Henry himself showed he was able to carry the burdens that came with being a lead actor in such a heavily regarded tv show.

‘Hey there big guy! Lookin’ good!!’

‘Yea,’ Henry smiled happily. ‘Feeling pretty good as well.’

‘Good to hear, good to hear! Oh and sorry if I’m a little slow. Jet lagging pretty hard over here; just got back from LA and had like..the craziest delay. But, here I am! It’s good to see you, Henry.’

‘Likewise.’ Henry cleared his throat as he tried to remember the short script she had sent the day before. A script that he’d have usually learned in between scenes, taking up no more than half an hour. But now he felt a certain nerve crawling up his spine as she plucked out that very same script from her bag.

‘Alright. So. I thought we’d have a little reading first? See how that’s going? I mean, if that’s alright with you, of course.’

‘Eh..yea, sure.’ Henry hesitated as his eye flew over the bag he had brought along, the script in there begging him to be picked up in case he failed to produce the words.

No, he could do this. He had to prove he could…

‘So, starting at the top of the scene. Geralt is sleep deprived and agitated. You know the drill..’ She waved her hand like it was no big deal, only to remember moments later it might be a deal after all, her tongue clicking as she realised her mistake. ‘I mean. IF you know the drill, or don’t know the drill, either way is fine. No question is bad. We have no stupid questions in this room, mkay? I mean, I’m just so glad to see you here! And..-’

‘No, I can do it.’ Henry frowned and tried to focus on the blurry daze that was his memory, the words somehow sticking to the tip of tongue like they were about to spill..but didn’t come. ‘Okay, maybe just eh, keep the script to be sure.’ He quickly grabbed for his bag, unzipping it to retrieve the script, the many marks indicating just how much he had struggled with it the night before; at some point Phoebe had to pull the paper from his stiff fingers, so he’d at least get some sleep.

Reading the first lines of the paper, he tried to get the voice right, the sentence right, the atmosphere right. Things that usually came like second nature. But now it all just didn’t click, his brain sluggish as he tried to read aloud the words as he tried to give his all - it wasn’t enough.

‘Okay-okay-okay.’ Danny stopped him after a short monologue. ‘Maybe let’s just..read? No crazy stuff?’

Again Henry tried. And this time it went a little better. A little. Not enough. Frustration raged through Henry’s bones as he tried to remain calm, his fists clenching around the paper as his eyes read the words and his mouth spilled them, but it just wasn’t as magical as it had once been.

By the time he said goodbye to Danny he kind of knew what had just happened; he had lost it.

‘Hey! How’d it go?’ Phoebe called from the couch, her eyes remaining trained on the laptop perched on her lap, a cup of steaming hot tea next to her on the side table.

Henry grumbled something indiscernible and bid her good night, heavy feet dragging up the stairs way before Phoebe had the chance to ask what happened. Closing her laptop she rushed up after him, knowing full well that he couldn’t be in much of a good mood - her Bear had always been like an open book to her.

She could already see him open Sam’s room to go to sleep in the narrow bed, but she stopped him at that, her hand clutching around his bicep, pulling him back towards the master bed room.

‘Come!’ She exclaimed, tugging at his heavy body which refused to move.

‘I can’t. Not ..now, okay?’ He lowered his head as he leaned his forehead into the door frame. It was more than a little clear that he was heartbroken.

Phoebe frowned, her arms opting to wrap around him instead, fingers accidentally brushing over his cock as she shimmied her hands around him, locking fingers in front of his belly. Did he think she wanted to have sexy time? She could hear his breath choke up.

‘Not that, silly.’ She whispered, her hot breath fanning over his dark blue shirt.

‘Then what? I can’t even..’ His breath choked again and an ever so quiet sob erupted from his lips. It broke Phoebe’s heart.

‘Mr. Cavill. You’re too heavy for me to carry, but could you please get to the big bed, so I can cuddle with you? Please?’ Phoebe squeezed her arms a little tighter around his chest, making him sob harder.

‘I just…’ His large paw wiped over the expanse of his cheek, angrily removing a tear that had strayed down to his jaw. ‘Fuck.’ And with that he caved, his head removing from the door frame as he slowly turned in Phoebe’s tight embrace, his head looking down at her pleading eyes. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay.’

It took a good thirty minutes of crying and half muttering what had happened before Henry had calmed a little, Phoebe sitting next to him beneath the sheets, her eyes watching in agony as her Bear totally fell apart, thick tears running down his beautiful cheeks. He was convinced that he could never act again. That this was it. His memory was failing him. He could do simple stuff, but acting? No way, José.

Phoebe scooted a little closer as Henry finally sighed, the last of his tears spent for the moment being. Without question or answer, the both of them curled into a sweet embrace, Henry’s head leaning down onto her chest as she carefully brushed her hands through his curls, finding the scar that now ran evidently over the back of his skull; it was just another piece of Henry she’d learn to love.

Sniffling softly, Henry melted into her touch, his breathing slowly calming to a soft and deep in-and-out.

And then, she sang, her body slightly swaying on a quiet tune.

You’re my Honeybunch,

Sugarplum

Pumpy-umpy-umpkin,

You’re my Sweetie Pie

Henry smiled into the fabric of her night gown, the soft satin like mother’s skin against his glowing cheek. ‘My mom used to sing that.’ He murmured.

You’re my Cuppycake,

Gumdrop

Snoogums-Boogums,

You’re the Apple of my Eye

Henry slightly lifted his head and looked at Phoebe as she gently continued to caress his hair, her lips chanting the sweet little lullaby. Finally she turned her attention to him, warm eyes melting his fragile heart.

‘I know. She actually taught me. With Sam. I mean, he was probably the fussiest baby ever to exist.’

Henry chuckled. ‘And now I am your baby.’

The both of them laughed softly. ‘No, no, no. You’re no baby! Though if you need some smothering with love, I’m glad to offer it.’ She playfully jiggled her momma-licious tits, making Henry swallow quickly.

Any other day of the week he would have jumped at the chance - nothing much had happened yet on that department, but right now, with his body all rosy and exhausted, he could only shake his head no, his cheek moving back to rest on her chest. ‘Another time.’ He sighed, melting back into her loving embrace.

‘Okay then Bear. Sleep well.’ She pressed a kiss on his crown and shimmied a little to get comfortable.

Sometimes, dads also need a little bit of mommy love.

Chap 6 >

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama

@tryingtoliveonmywishes @ceilingfann @do-youseeme

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x ofc #fluff #sadness #the accidental family #how to dad

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fernlom · 4 years

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The Villains of the Thrift Shop

Dig (from Chronicles of Tenaria) Death, Grim Reaper, the Grave. My interpretation of Death. Dig, also known as the Grave Digger is an alcoholic, asshole. Dressed in dirt stained denim overalls and a gray t-shirt with brown square rimmed glasses Dig is older than time and creation itself and has been drinking the entire time. a heartless ass (with a few exceptions) he carries with him his shovel, who’s head is jagged and sharp.

Romano (original creation) He’s got that “crazy guy” look, the wide tooth grin with tired eyes. Wavy pitch black hair, dressed in a fluffy open chested white blouse, black blazer and red rose pin, satin black pants, black suede shoes and two curved blades.

Nitsua (original creation) Two forms, one a human shaped entity of pure purple energy, and the other he’s got curly dark brown/red hair. Dressed in a large galaxy colored overcoat, black button up shirt with a red collar, glowing white tie, black pants with a fire pattern coming from the legs, and red shoes

Roald Dake (TMA fan character. Buried Avatar) Roald always has his shovel and has a variety of abilities. Instant transport to anywhere with dirt or soil, the ability to make rooms or enclosed spaces close in on themselves, and shape shifting thanks to his dirt make up. He’s frequently seen dressed in a short sleeved dirty gray flannel shirt, dirty black pants boots and his shovel

Chance Carter (TMA fan character, serial killer) Chance is an expert in fighting with blades. He’s frequently dressed in blue jeans, a red polo shirt, black sneakers, with brown side swept hair and brown eyes.

Anthony West(TMA fan character, Change avatar) Anthony is African, specifically of Zulu decent. He immigrated from South Africa to London to start his tech company. Anthony is highly intelligent and dangerously ambitious. At his full Change Avatar status he was given cybernetic eyes that constantly change color, his every vein is replaced with wires that can be seen through his dark skin as many rest above his skin, as well as complete ability to travel through computer networks.

Virus (from Chronicles of Tenaria) host to every possible illness, virus, and pathogen known and unknown to all living beings. Dressed in an old green flannel shirt over a olive green t-shirt with a black medic cross, old jeans and shoes. He has complete control over living beings, with the ability to infect them instantly with any disease or illness.

Drip (BATIM fan character, a Henry) African American, resembles a “rubberhose” style black and white cartoon with pie cut eyes, dressed in black overalls, white button up shirt and black bow tie, with many ink tendrils coming from his back. He controls a seemingly infinite supply of ink that he can mold into weapons and items.

The Father (BATIM fan character) "The Father" a corrupted ink version of Fern. upon his head are four masks, one for each side. The front is Bendy, the left Boris, the right Alice, the back Wandering Sin, each mask is missing it's eyes, draped over his inky body is a long trench coat and a pair of pants. He has four arms, each arm holding a item. An axe, a wrench, a syringe, and a scythe. It speaks in four voices, one at a time, or together.

The Three Guardians (from Chronicles of Tenaria) The Forgotten Firefighter: all white entity resembling a Fire Fighter WHOS gas mask is completely filled with smoke and carries a fireman’s axe. The Missing Miner, an all black entity resembling a Cole miner who’s gas mask is filled with soot, carries a pick axe. The Lost Lieutenant, an all green entity who resembles a WW1 US solider WHOS gas mask is filled with yellow gas. Carried a trench shovel.

The Diver (original creation) a mysterious entity in a old metal diving suit, the windows of the helmet always has a ghostly aqua blue glow.

DJ Sm4sh (original creation) He has the power to control sound waves and through music he can cause major destruction.

He’s dressed in a “black light glowing “ white blazer with blue grid lines, matching pants, black shirt, neon blue and neon red light up tie, and a pair of bright neon blue glow in the dark ray bans. His hair is always changing colors, no one knows if it’s magic or if he dyes it, but he’s always got a different color, sometimes it’s many. His pupils are music notes and completely black, but always hidden behind the glasses.

PB and HB (original creation) PB is bald, hispanic man, about...5 foot 10. He's got two scars on each side of his head. he wears a white tank top and blue jeans. Angry guy, he has I handed strength and resilience and is almost impossible to keep down. He has thick chains wrapped around his wrists and fists. HB is about the same size, black and white striped hair, black denim jacket, white t-shirt, black jeans. a scar on the right side of his mouth. Also angry guy with increased strength and resilience and flexibility, has glass shards protruding from his knuckles.

Golgotha (from Chronicles of Tenaria) an assassin with a skill for turning any item into a deadly weapon. Infected with a parasite that causes smoke to constantly come from his mouth and a hunger for flesh he can be spotted usually in a black hoodie, gray jeans and his messy brown hair and green eyes.

Glitch Angel (from Chronicles of Tenaria) a mysterious being resembling an angel, it’s body is made of multi colored glitching pixels. It’s full power is unknown, but it is known as a herald of doom.

Issabel Rosales (mind control. From Chronicles of Tenaria) with long silk black hair, usually in a red cocktail dress and black heals, Issabel is identified quickly by her vibrant purple eyes and her powerful mind control ability.

De Rosa Thelina (scientist, from Chronicles of Tenaria) the former lead scientist of the Group 100 Project, Dr Rosa gained Professor’s String Theory ability. Frequently scene in a white lab coat over a button up blue shirt and blue jeans, and gray tennis shoes. She wears square red rimmed glasses and likes to keep her hair up in a bun, or tied in a pony tail.

Dirty Kyle (original creation) The New God of Party. A reality bender who's powers are completely focused on all things party. Booze, snacks, music and lights. (no drugs, he's very adamant that drugs make parties bad. Except Weed. Sm4sh convinced him that's okay) Kyle is bent on making an eternal party that never ends and uses his powers to try and make it real. He's got short spikey brown hair, dull gray eyes that he occasionally hides behind aviator sunglasses. He wears a mint green polo shirt that stays unbuttoned and its collar popped with a blue and gold letterman jacket with a bottle of beer as it's emblem and tight black skinny jeans.

The Famished (original creation/fear mythos) an unfortunate victim turned monster. A girl of unknown age with long brown hair that goes to the middle of her back and covers her eyes. She has sharp shark like teeth, thick and strong claws, and ferocious strength and speed. Famished was a normal girl who woke up one day with a strange hunger that just wouldn't go away no matter how much she ate, until it drove her insane and she ate the ones she loved, said horrific action changed her into the monster she now is. (IMPORANT NOTE: she is not a representation or analogy for anorexia or any other eating disorder. I'd never make such a character and I dont want anyone to think i take such issues lightly)

Wanna hear about them? Ask.

#thrift shop of infinite wonders #ferns egos

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protectorsofthewood · 5 years

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Abby and Wendy - Episode 36

AN UNUSUAL MEETING

Lluvia slowly steered the canoe toward the right bank. A wide view of Evansville opened up before their eyes. The river seemed to grow and spread out, creating space for many docks lining the shoreline. The tall buildings were all on the left side. On the right-hand side a long finger of parkland extended along the shoreline all the way from Half Moon. The Evansville College of Arts and Sciences was nestled among tall trees like a town of mostly low buildings. Beyond the college, Riverside Boulevard ran all the way to River City.

Docks owned by the Parks Department and the College clustered together, creating a marina of boats, all quite small by ocean standards. The depth of the river was only about 5 to 8 feet, and varied radically with rainfall and the tide. No large yachts or ferryboats could safely navigate the river until the Maywood River joined the Half Moon a few miles downstream. At that point the river became wider, deeper, and crowded in a more urban landscape, climaxing at the great metropolis of River City.

Lluvia maneuvered the canoe along crowded docks to a separate, spacious area owned by the college. They tied the boat to cleats in the wooden platform and a young man in a college tee shirt gave them a hand up. Lluvia told him their business and departure time Sunday morning. He wanted student identification, and for a moment they were stuck, unsure what to do.

Then they heard Abby’s name called, and Sara came rushing up the dock. She was obviously nervous and impatient. “Where have you been?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Phoebe answered. “An emergency, and my phone is gone. None of us have a phone. I’ll tell you more later.”

“Hi Bill,” Sara greeted the dock attendant. “They’re all with me, meeting in the energy building with Professor Richardson. He’ll approve it.”

“We picked up a stray boat,” Lluvia said. “It was floating free a mile upriver. Can you look for an owner?”

In a moment the three visitors and Sara were hurrying across a wide pathway onto the college campus. Old buildings, generally only two stories, were spread out among trees and lawns, and connected by flagstone paths. Abby had never seen anything like it. Wisteria grew up old stonewalls, and discreet signs were posted to guide visitors. The scene was calm and lovely in the early evening shadows. But Sara led them at a furious pace. Phoebe lagged behind, pulling her right leg stiffly forward.

Abby checked her timer. “Hey Sara,” she called. “It’s only 6:30.”

“We’ve reserved the private meeting room starting at six. Ricardo Richardson and a grad student and Freddy Baez are there already. We’ve made a dinner reservation for seven o’clock. This is a big deal. And we’re running out of time.” She’s the organizer, the mover and shaker,Abby told herself. Just follow along.

They practically ran through a maze of buildings where students walked in and out of dormitories and gathered in groups on the lawn. Cars full of arriving students and their luggage jammed the courtyard. Finally, Sara led the group to a modern one-story building with a picture window, glass doors, and wings built out from both sides. A limestone porch with benches and potted gardenias surrounded the main entrance. An elegant bronze sign read, ‘Energy in the Age of Climate Change’.

Groups on the benches said hello to Sara and stared as they hurried by, practically running down a carpeted hallway to wooden double doors. A quiet living room spread out before them. Lamps on poles, couches and easy chairs, bookshelves, paintings, and a sideboard of refreshments were scattered around a wide area. Three men stood to greet them.

Sara took charge. “Professor Richardson, Evansville Record editor Freddy Baez, and assistant professor Henry Tims, this is Abby, Phoebe, and…” Sara waited for the name.

“Lluvia,” Abby told them. They shook hands.

“Call me Ricardo, please. We’re here to talk as equals. Can I get you some coffee, wine, tea, club soda?” The visitors asked for coffee, and Ricardo served them himself.

Freddy showed them to a long couch with a coffee table, and looked at his watch. “Can we delay dinner half an hour at least?” he asked Ricardo. “We need the time.”

“Henry, see if they can give us until 7:30. Tell them we apologize, but it’s important.”

Ricardo Richardson, the host and head of the department, wore a dark tailored suit and a pale blue tie. He was tall and lean, in his forties, brown skinned, with black hair cut very short. A gold ring with a small blue stone glowed on his right ring finger. Freddy Baez did not seem to be concerned about his appearance. He looked just the same to Abby as he had appeared in Reverend Tuck’s office: balding, in his fifties, needing a haircut around the ears, a bit overweight, wearing a shabby pale suit with no tie. He sipped his wine and glanced around impatiently.

Henry Tims looked maybe 25 or 26 years old, very young for an assistant professor. He was short and light skinned, with wispy blond hair falling over his forehead, and a vulnerable baby face free of wrinkles. His jeans and pinstriped shirt were clean and ironed, giving him a bit of formality.

“Yes, right away,” he said, and hurried out the door.

Abby and Phoebe were struggling to keep their eyes off the blue stone in Ricardo’s ring. It’s dreamstone, its dreamstone!Their thoughts were buzzing, and they met each other’s eyes with a look of elated recognition. Here’s someone on our side, they thought. Abby glanced at Lluvia and noticed her wide-eyed look. She knows.

Sara retreated to a corner of the room and made a quick phone call. She wore her usual uniform: STAFF tee shirt, jeans, and wide red headband. “Amy will be here in a minute,” she told them.

“Ah! Excellent.” Ricardo gave a sigh of relief. “Let me give all of you a chance to drink your coffee and relax.” He spoke slowly and gently, with the hint of a Spanish accent. “I want you to know how grateful we are to see you here on our home turf. It’s a tremendous favor. I know you’ve overcome obstacles to be here… you folks are under a microscope these days. But now we have a chance to put our minds together in hopes of a better future. This is a moment blessed by fate.”

Henry returned, nodded to Ricardo, and pulled up a chair.

“We’re just getting started,” his professor told him. He was silent for a minute as the young women drank coffee.

Well, well…thought Abby. Quite an introduction. She was determined to play her role with all the concentration at her command, and bring in Phoebe and Lluvia to offer all those things that she could not.

The door suddenly opened and Amy Zhi walked into the room. Sara hugged her, and introduced her to Lluvia and Phoebe. Amy waved to all and sat in an upholstered armchair to the side of the couch. Henry hurried to get her a cup of coffee.

The professor met everyone’s eyes and began: “I think we’ve all done a good job of arranging this off-the-record meeting, and I think we can count on each other’s confidentiality.”

They nodded.

“Please bear with me while I give a brief description of our situation. We’ll be discussing renewable energy developments that are still in an early, fragile stage, but are becoming too prominent to ignore. As you know, tomorrow the Evansville Board of Trustees will be responding to our student/faculty declaration of climate change commitments. I realize that this document is technically open to change and negotiation. But most of us, including the trustees, are aware that we are drawing a red line, a firm position that we intend to implement with all the influence we can find.”

He paused and drank from a glass of wine. “Okay, now here’s some news. We’ve obtained through the grapevine a summary of the trustees’ response. They will point out that not only our college, but also our city and state, are nowhere near ready to achieve %100 renewable energy. Therefore they – the trustees – will not promise to withdraw all fossil fuel related investments. They will say we are decades, thirty years at a minimum, from banishing fossil fuels from our economy. Therefore, they must continue to invest in enterprises that are currently essential to the welfare of our population, such as fossil fuel heat, transportation, electricity, fertilizer, plastic, and so on. We know that this argument is shared by many of the powers that be in our world, and could have merit, except that over the past thirty years they have done nothing except continue business as usual. And the business interests that the trustees represent have no wish to change, and are ignoring the perilous consequences of delay.”

“Hurry it along, Ricardo!” interrupted Freddy Baez. “We’re from the news business, we’re used to rushing. And in twenty minutes we’re supposed to be eating dinner.”

“I understand, Freddy. But tonight, I don’t care if all the food is overcooked or stone cold. I’ve been waiting a long time for this day. Everyone will get a chance to say their piece.”

He took another swallow of wine. “In maybe ten years, with supporting policies like an escalating carbon taxes, regulations, and investments into solar and wind projects, electricity could be just about 90% renewable. But as we know all too well, our state and nation and most of the globe, do not have the political will to achieve anything drastic at the moment. We don’t have the batteries yet to store enough energy to get through days with no wind and winters with little sun. Without the invention of better batteries, generators will need to continue using natural gas at least part of the time. We don’t have the grid, the heating and cooking equipment, the cars and jet fuel and household appliances to move to 100% renewable, even with a carbon tax and enormous subsidies. And for all those places off the grid the situation is hopeless. Propane tanks populate the countryside like mushrooms. And world-wide, that adds up to an insurmountable problem…except for one thing. The problems look different if you include biogas.

Ricardo looked around the room. “That’s what we need to discuss tonight. We know that all organic material can produce biogas, mostly methane. We know that landfilled organic material gives off methane into the atmosphere where it becomes a greenhouse gas. We know that landfilling organic material is expensive. We know that biogas is much more environmentally friendly than burning wood and related materials. We know waste organic material can be collected from a village or a city or a farm. We know the production of biogas can be a local enterprise or a colossal industry. We know that fracking can be banned as soon as we have better batteries for electrical storage and biogas for furnaces, stoves, and generators. Millions of families already use it all over the world. And tonight, we need to talk about the little-known fact that biogas is used by thousands of households right here in the Half Moon Valley. How did this happen, given the political and business support for fossil fuels? Why can’t we study and discuss it?”

The participants looked at each other, but no one answered. Ricardo waited, and then went on: “We’ve discovered that one of our trustees, Herbert Irving, is alarmed that his Valley Fuels distribution network is losing customers. He’s already investigating the production of biogas by our Parks Department. We know he will convince the governor and his allies to close down that operation unless they meet very strong resistance. We know that Rivergate is already 100% renewable, and Half Moon maybe 50% renewable, and Middletown is rapidly getting into the act. Why can’t we replicate this process? Why can’t we argue that with intelligent biogas production – by intelligent, I mean refusing to grow crops for biofuels on land suitable for food crops, refusing to cut down forests… in other words, producing biogas only from waste, organic garbage, wood that is already being chipped by the Parks Department as a matter of ordinary maintenance, grasses grown on land with soil too poor for human food… Why can’t we study, publicize, and argue for intelligent biogas production?”

He looked at his watch. “Thank you for your patience. The ball is in your court.”

“We’ve got a problem among the students,” Sara replied. “They’re all fired up about Abby’s interview, the mysteries surrounding Middletown, the gender and spiritual issues… but… it seems that they don’t understand biogas very well. It’s not clean and pure like solar and wind. It burns and gives off carbon dioxide, just like fracked gas.”

“Mmmm…” Ricardo smiled. “Tell them the squirrels and the dogs and humans give off carbon dioxide. The tree that falls in the forest and turns into compost gives off carbon dioxide. Cow manure gives off carbon dioxide. But the fracked gas didn’t have to give off itscarbon dioxide. It’s been safely underground for millions of years, and could have stayed there, if we didn’t mine it and burn it. We’re adding carbon to the life cycle, carbon that has been sequestered for eons. That’s the problem. We should stick to our basic talking points: KEEP IT IN THE GROUND. BAN FOSSIL FUELS. And by the way, the organic material that produces biogas has a desirable byproduct: solid compost, pure and ready to use as fertilizer. It’s far better to make biogas out of organic material than to burn it.”

“It seems to me,” Sara retorted, “that you should get those professors in first year earth science to do a better job. The facts seem self-evident to you, but not to most other people.”

“Good point. Yes, a better education is essential. But that will take time, a year at a minimum. We need to act over the next couple of months.”

Freddy Baez leaned forward. “I’m sorry to say this, but you’re all on the wrong track. Sure, improve education, explain the issues, argue your case. But we’ve got hot news here, very hot. That interview with Abby… it’s gone around the world. The attention of the public is at a peak I’ve rarely seen. This wave of interest must be fed, or it will break and disappear. News items are stories. What story should we tell? I ask you, Abby… what story would you recommend?”

She had been waiting for this moment. Her mind was well prepared, the words on the tip of her tongue. “I agree we have to move fast. This public attention you’re talking about… it also includes the wrong kind of attention. It alerts our enemies, and they investigate and create their own story. That’s natural. They’re threatened. This Herbert Irving you mentioned who runs Valley Fuels, he’s losing money. Large parts of this whole system will lose wealth and power, and strike back. And fossil fuels are a cultural as well as an economic problem. The self-esteem of part of our population seems to be married to fossil fuels. If we don’t get our story out there in a powerful way, we’ll be crushed.”

#ecofiction #Environmentalism #teenagers #green energy #live music #climate change is REAL

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San Francisco: Insider Travel Guide

(CNN)San Francisco is small by urban standards, a compact swath of rambunctious hills, windswept bays and rainbow-colored Victorian homes. But it’s seen enough upheaval for a town twice its size.

And it’s been the adopted home of numerous seismic social — and geological — movements.

As a result, San Francisco is a crossroads of commerce and counterculture, suffused with noir moodiness as well as Gold Rush bravado.

Just remember that San Fran’s weather has mood swings that are as complex. To avoid becoming one of those sullen tourists shivering in shorts and a T-shirt as the fog crawls around their ankles, bring a sweater — as well as these suggestions for experiencing the best of San Francisco.

A very different California city — Los Angeles: Insider Travel Guide

Hotels

Luxury

Palace Hotel

The Palace’s ceiling is worth more than some entire hotels.

With a soaring stained glass ceiling, marble floors and mammoth chandeliers, the Palace summons the San Francisco of yesteryear.

It should: it was built in 1909 to replace an earlier version gutted by fire following the infamous 1906 earthquake.

It isn’t difficult to imagine a long, eclectic roster of high-profile guests that includes Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev, author Oscar Wilde and four standing U.S. presidents taking high tea in the Palace’s celebrated Garden Court.

Located downtown, the Palace provides easy access to public transportation, cabs, museums and the waterfront.

You can even do some sightseeing without leaving the premises: the hotel runs historic tours three days a week.

Mid-range

Hotel des Arts

With each of its rooms custom decorated by artists both local and international, the Hotel des Arts is part hotel, part art gallery.

Guests can bed down in settings conceived by the likes of Brian Barneclo, Jeremy Fish and Shepard Fairey.

Never heard of ’em? Rest easy, they create pretty surroundings.

Take heed, though: unlike the deluxe rooms and suites, standard rooms share a community bathroom and shower.

Located downtown, de Arts is within walking distance of Chinatown, North Beach and Union Square is and surrounded by places to eat and drink.

Grand Hyatt San Francisco

It’s tough to decide which is the more potent lure here — the hotel’s shop-and-attraction-friendly Union Square location, or the recent renovations.

All 659 guestrooms have been updated.

Great staff and famed Hyatt pillow-top mattresses help make the Grand Hyatt a reliable place to do everything from sip martinis to hole up flicking channels in high style.

Expected business amenities are all here — conference rooms, Uno-Bitell Media phones (sounds impressive), in-room Wi-Fi — along with the refurbished Grandviews Restaurant, which serves fresh California cuisine in a 36th floor dining room with, you guessed it, grand views.

Budget

Grant Plaza Hotel

The exception is this affordable semi-gem inside the Chinatown gate and just a block from a cable car line.

Rooms are functional if dated (the hotel’s website still touts “clock radios” as an in-room amenity) but the place is clean and within walking distance of many restaurants and bars.

For the price in one of the most expensive cities in North America, it’s an unbeatable deal.

All rooms are non-smoking.

Dining

Boulevard

Touting itself as “one of the most popular restaurants in America” (we don’t necessarily disagree), Boulevard is among the best places in the City to close a business deal or a new romance.

The “Belle Epoque-inspired,” 64-seat restaurant serves a unique fusion of French/European and modern American cuisine.

Roasted beet salad with Spanish goat cheese, and rabbit and wild greens tortellini are nifty.

But Boulevard is at its best when serving up big chunks of grilled and roasted meats: lamb, pork, beef and local fish are what bring in the crowds.

Elegant, pricey and pretty close to perfect.

Reservations a must.

Sons & Daughters

You’ll get a sense of Matt McNamara and Teague Moriarty’s culinary sensibilities when you enter their TenderNob premises: stylish without trying too hard.

Their deconstructed American dishes are creatively prepared and presented, making them as lovely to behold as to eat.

The menu is seasonal, offering two choices: a tasting menu and a vegetable tasting menu, with many ingredients harvested from Sons & Daughters’ own garden in nearby Los Gatos.

Since it opened, the restaurant has garnered a number of accolades, including a Michelin Star earned after just one year in business.

Changing tasting menus are offered daily for $98 with the option of a $69 wine pairing.

Gary Danko

Named after its founder, one of the country’s most respected chefs, this classy, 65-seat eatery spins out meals that combine Danko’s classical training in French and Mediterranean cuisine with California ingredients and innovative spirit.

You could live for a year off the appetizer menu: pistachio-covered sweet breads with cauliflower, goat cheese “truffles” and the like.

The entre selection includes many fresh seafood and meat options.

The roasted pork belly comes with red peppers and a maple-cider glaze, for just one example.

There’s also a large, high-end wine and cheese list.

Reservations a must.

NOPA

There are many of its kind in this city, but NOPA is San Francisco’s best at serving familiar, hearty and thoughtful versions of what it calls “urban rustic food”: wood-roasted salmon, grass-fed hamburgers and rotisserie chicken.

The small bowls of spiced chickpeas are seasoned to perfection and make a wonderful pre-meal snack.

Cocktails are also expertly prepared, and like the food, not overworked.

NOPA is in high demand and doesn’t take reservations, but the vibe encourages patrons to pull up a seat at its expansive bar and sample the snack menu while waiting.

Una Pizza Napoletana

Anthony Mangieri’s unadorned shop, with its concrete floors and bare white walls, quickly earned acclaim among San Francisco’s (many) artisanal pizzerias for its slavish adherence to the craft.

Mangieri reigns in the middle of it, making pizzas before an immense wood-fired brick oven, his arms covered in tattoos.

This master pizza-maker has more than once been referred to as a rock star of the genre.

Like the space, Mangieri’s pizzas are unadorned and perfect: anointed with San Marzano tomatoes, extra-virgin olive oil, oregano, fresh garlic, basil and sea salt.

Humphry Slocombe

Humphry Slocombe ice cream isn’t afraid to shock, either with the names of its ice creams or their flavors.

Take Jesus Juice, for instance: a sorbet of Ctes du Rhne and cola.

Or the shop’s most popular flavor, Secret Breakfast: caramelized corn flakes in a cloud of whiskey ice cream.

They’ve also served up scoops of foie gras ice cream, prosciutto ice cream and salt and pepper ice cream.

Humphry Slocombe has earned the right to these quirky flavors because they’re actually good.

Really good. Like, kill-the-guy-before-you-in-line good.

Off the Grid

Perhaps the only thing that has multiplied faster in San Francisco than artisanal pizzerias is food trucks.

There are Southern trucks, cupcake trucks, taco trucks, rib trucks, Thai trucks, noodle trucks, pizza trucks — there’s even a truck devoted solely to the food meme bacon.

While most trucks alert fans to their whereabouts via Facebook and Twitter, the easiest way to sample several at once is at events organized by Off the Grid, which assembles numerous vendors in one spot for weekly markets throughout the city.

Often accompanied by live music, these gatherings take on a festive vibe.

It’s hard to resist sampling more than one truck, so it’s best to arrive hungry.

El Farolito

Super shrimp and carnitas burrito from El Farolito.

Overstuffed, rolled tight and wrapped in a sheath of tin foil, the massive burritos served at this Mission taqueria are cheap, delicious and filling.

While excellent at any time of day or level of sobriety, El Farolito’s dependably delicious hunger bullets are particularly satisfying after a night of drinking.

Good thing it’s open late.

El Farolito serves up all the usual meats like carne asada and al pastor, but you can also get cabeza (beef brain) and lengua (beef tongue).

The squeamish shy away, but they are impossibly tender and juicy.

San Francisco cheap eats: Foodie clears the fog on where to dine for less

Nightlife

Comstock Saloon

Named for Henry T “Pancake” Comstock, the man whose fortunes lured thousands of miners to San Francisco in the 19th century, this North Beach saloon is a refined tribute to those rough Barbary Coast times: dim lights, tin ceilings, classic cocktails and ostentatious wallpaper.

The bar also serves period-inspired food, like beef shank and bone marrow potpie.

On Friday, Comstock revives a Gold Rush tradition of serving a free lunch with the purchase of two drinks.

The deal almost makes more sense for travelers than locals, who may have to return to work with a brace of stiff cocktails in their system.

DJ Purple Karaoke

Many flinch at the word “karaoke,” which can conjure visions of poorly warbled Journey and “Total Eclipse.”

But DJ Purple (aka Steve Hays) is a Bay Area treasure, and he serves up a karaoke dance-party that reinvents the maligned medium.

DJ Purple favors upbeat songs and loud music, putting the focus on the crowd rather than the individual, inspiring group sing-alongs and nonstop dancing.

Oh, and he also plays the saxophone — often the highlight of the evening.

DJ Purple Karaoke, multiple nights, locations; budget (free to sing, but tip your karaoke jay).

Tommy’s Joynt

While complicated cocktails with organic ingredients may dominate the San Francisco drinking scene, Tommy’s Joynt proudly declares on its website, “We remain steadfast in our opposition to change.”

This large, wholly unpretentious family-owned spot is cluttered with fascinating bar junk, pours an impressive array of beers and serves meals like corned beef from its cafeteria-style buffet to be eaten on tables adorned with red-and-white-checkered table cloths.

Shopping

Valencia Street between 14th and 26th

This trendy corridor of small boutiques embraces everything from clothing and letter-pressed cards to taxidermy and books, much of it locally made.

Carefully curated used clothing stores like No Shop and Painted Bird are extraordinarily well priced.

Paxton Gate conjures oddities like carnivorous plants, while its children’s store provides lovely toys of the non-plastic variety.

The Curiosity Shop sells jewelry and trinkets as well as local art.

Dog Eared Books is the kind of store that’s fun to get lost in for an hour or so.

826 Valencia sells a gallimaufry of goods dubbed “pirate supplies.”

Coffee shops like Four Barrel and Ritual Roasters plus plentiful eateries supply ample shopping respite.

Valencia Street between 14th Street and 26th Street

Green Apple Books

Can any city really be great without a really great bookstore?

A rambling, multi-story shop with a winding staircase and secluded corners, Green Apple Books is the kind of experience that unfolds as you make your way from front to back.

Browsing and hanging out are encouraged, with chairs tucked away in remote spots, where patrons can leisurely thumb through a book on the occult, a massive photo compendium, a young-adult hit or a biography.

With books both new and old, there doesn’t seem to be a subgenre — or price point — unrepresented.

Japan Center

Chinatown isn’t SF’s only Asian community.

The Japantown mall is a series of buildings connected by courtyards and bridges filled with small shops and eateries that peddle Japanese wares.

PIKA PIKA specializes in whimsical Japanese photo booths where users can snap pictures of themselves then print the results as stickers.

Ichibahn Kahn and Daiso are Japanese dollar stores that sell a dizzying array of adorable, affordable items.

Bookstores stock manga and Japanese editions of magazines like Vogue.

Several variations of the pillow candy mochi can be purchased at Nippon Ya.

Meticulously crafted fake foods adorning the windows of sushi and noodle spots rank as bonus sightseeing.

Attractions

California Academy of Science

The California Academy of Science has mastered the modern museum experience: immersive and interactive without being gimmicky, there’s not an animatronic statue to be found.

Located in Golden Gate Park, the museum is easily identified by its massive, undulating living roof.

Once inside, visitors can tour a living rain forest, fly through space in the planetarium or descend to the darkened aquarium with its hypnotic displays of jellyfish, alien-like sea dragons, an octopus, electric eels, an anaconda and piranhas.

CAS is a functioning research facility, so employees can often be spotted performing taxidermy on a number of specimens.

The Presidio

A former military base near Golden Gate Park, the Presidio is filled with distinctive low-slung, white buildings that served as army barracks.

The tree-filled park packs in wonderful hiking and biking opportunities, sweeping vistas, beaches and marshes.

It’s also home to a military cemetery — including a pet cemetery where the army buried beloved animal companions.

Homemade tombstones and memorable epitaphs abound.

George Lucas’ Industrial Light and Magic is headquartered here, its Yoda fountain having become a favorite stop for Star Wars fans.

Post-hiking cocktails can be enjoyed at the charming Presidio Social Club, which boasts a historically themed drink menu.

Presidio Visitor Center, 105 Montgomery St.; +1 415 561 4323

Filbert Steps

San Francisco’s famously hilly geography is crisscrossed with hidden, meandering staircases whose seeming impracticality is part of the appeal.

The Filbert Steps are the most magnificent.

They begin in a plain alleyway flanked by office buildings.

Surrounded by lush greenery, concrete steps give way to wooden ones, climbing up, up and up through a hillside neighborhood dotted with beautiful and quirky homes, statues and gardens.

Discoveries abound: the green and red parrots of Telegraph Hill overhead, a mural celebrating miniature poodles and fantastic views.

Finally, the stairs spit you out at Coit Tower, a monument to firemen with Depression-era murals inside.

Counterculture

But the city became the unique enclave it is because of the people and cultural movements that shaped its character.

Here are a few places where you can experience them.

The Audium

Visitors seeking vestiges of San Francisco’s bohemian heyday should skip Haight Street, unless they want to battle crowds for bongs and tie-dyed shirts.

Attendees of this half-century-old sound experiment sit in a dark, domed theater, surrounded by 176 speakers and listen to creator Stan Shaff’s mind-bending arrangement — a mixture of electronic music, giggling children, galloping horses and other sounds — while a light show plays overhead.

The performance can tread into kitschy territory, but Shaff’s ingenuity and dedication somehow elevate it.

Shaff might not call the experience “psychedelic,” but upon exiting, many an audience member will deploy the word “trippy.”

It’s certainly representative of the city’s permissive, experimental spirit.

GLBT Museum

The GLBT History Museum is the first of its kind in the U.S. and only the second in the world (after Berlin).

Opened in 2011, the GLBT Museum (Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual Transgender) was decades in the making and was the first of its kind in the United States.

A project of the 25-year-old GLBT Historical Society, the 148-square-meter space provides an intimate, handcrafted experience located in San Francisco’s historically gay neighborhood, The Castro.

Drawing on the society’s vast archives, the museum displays a wide-ranging menu of artifacts from matchbooks and manuscripts to Harvey Milk’s kitchen table.

Knitted together, the objects tell a larger story.

You can download the free museum tour to enhance your experience, and check out the roster of events for author talks and panels.

Vesuvio Caf

In North Beach, you’ll find these two paeans to Beat culture on opposite sides of Jack Kerouac Alley, named for the literary movement’s iconic pioneer.

City Lights bookstore will forever retain an air of daring and notoriety for publishing Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl” and weathering the storm that followed, including a high-profile obscenity trial.

The bookstore remains a cultural hub and favored destination for bibliophiles.

Down the street, you can grab a drink at Vesuvio, a bar famed for serving the literati of the Beat Generation.

Despite its tourist appeal, it’s a neighborhood saloon where drinks are strong.

On the mezzanine you can claim a private corner where you can drink and spy on the patrons below.