#this is not formatted well or even flushed out as much as id like but i had to get it written down

[chahnniesroom]

some loves

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: some loves are too hard to bear. years after being trainees together, chan still thinks of you all the time. he has no idea that a collaboration would lead him back to you.

word count: 6.9k

tags/warnings: reader is an independent singer/songwriter, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of past injuries, a little bit of jealousy, i am still in denial that chan doesn't do lives anymore, hongjoong from ateez is in this fic

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: once again, sorry for the long time between posts. disclaimer that i do not know much about how the music/idol industry works and i did not really do much research. also i'm not an atiny so sorry if my portrayal of hongjoong is not realistic at all. also also i did a lot of the writing on a new tablet doing handwriting with a stylus to text so please forgive any typos or weird formatting! i didn't have a chance to edit much so i may have missed some things.

Chan’s in his studio when he gets the call. At first, he doesn’t even realise his phone is ringing. It’s 2am on a weekday and he’s been working away for a few hours so the rest of the world has just about faded into the background.

He’s both surprised and intrigued when he looks at the caller ID and sees Hongjoong’s name. Chan would consider Hongjoong to be a friend, but they’re not particularly close and he can’t think of a reason that would warrant this late night call.

“Hey hyung,” Hongjoong greets him briefly before getting straight to the point. “What’s your schedule like in the next few months?”

“It’s actually not too bad,” Chan replies after a moment of thought. “We’re just finalising all the music for the next album so it’ll be a bit of time before we get busy with recording and filming for the comeback. What’s up?”

“You don’t have the answer now and I don’t want you to feel any pressure at all, but would you be interested in doing a collab together?”

“A collab?” Chan repeats. “Like, ATEEZ and Stray Kids?”

“We could,” Hongjoong says reluctantly. “But actually, if you’re up for it then I was thinking more like just you and me. I have a couple tracks that we could work off of and I’ve roped in someone to help me with recording, engineering, and production.”

“Who?” Chan asks, interest piqued.

“Not sure if you’ve heard of them, they go by the name HALLA.”

Chan recognises the name instantly. When Chan had first stumbled upon HALLA one late night scrolling and listening to different independent artists, they seemed relatively unknown. However, a little research revealed that they had KOMCA credits on a number of songs for idol groups, some of which had become widely popular. Their personal work was a variety of genres and a majority of the tracks didn’t have vocals, but the ones that did had clever or thoughtful lyrics. There were a couple of different voices featured in the original songs, both of which were smooth and melodic. HALLA has a style that Chan thinks would complement Stray Kids and he’s considered reaching out to them a few times, but was always held back by something.

There was little about HALLA posted on the internet and while Chan definitely appreciates their privacy, he’s curious to meet the person behind all the songs that he enjoyed. There’s just something familiar about all their music that he can’t quite place, something that he wants more of.

“I’m in,” Chan agrees.

“You can take some time to think about it, talk to JYPE to see what their thoughts are too.”

“No need, I’m interested and I know I can convince management to support this.”

“Well that was easy,” Hongjoong says and Chan can basically hear him grinning through the phone. “And for my own pride, I’m going to pretend that you said yes the second I suggested the collab instead of when I mentioned HALLA-ssi.” Chan instantly flushes and is glad that Hongjoong can’t see him over the phone.

“It wasn’t-” Chan begins to protest.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong interrupts. “I’m also pretty thrilled to get to work with them, so I understand. Didn’t realise you were familiar with their work, but I guess a hidden gem like them can’t stay hidden for long. I’ll send some files over to you and we can organise a time to work.”

—

Chan finds it easy to work with Hongjoong and they make quick progress on the song, writing lyrics and creating a guide within a couple of weeks. Before he knows it, they’ve scheduled a time for Chan to visit KQ Entertainment to record vocals. Hongjoong knows that Chan is keen to be involved in the production and arrangement of the song too, so they also have a couple sessions booked for that, although Hongjoong teases him relentlessly about just wanting to work with HALLA. The worst part is that Chan can’t even deny it.

Hongjoong meets him at the entrance of KQ Entertainment and quickly takes him through security.

“HALLA-ssi is already in the studio,” Hongjoong explains as they wait for the elevator to arrive. “I was getting input on a track that’s been killing me for the past few days.”

“Did they help?” Chan asks, a little surprised that HALLA is involved in more than just this collaboration. He still hasn't had a chance to connect with them other than quick introductions through text a couple of days ago and he's just as excited to meet them as initially.

“Yeah!” Hongjoong grins, eyes curving into little crescents. “HALLA-ssi is amazing. She only had listen to it a couple times before she came up with suggestions on a few different ways to fix the part that I hated. I left her to finish cleaning the song up and then it’s basically ready for review.”

“How did you start working with HALLA-ssi? I’ve been meaning to try to connect with her.”

“It was actually a friend that suggested working with her. For someone who isn’t signed with a label- which I don’t know how nobody has signed her yet- she’s surprisingly well connected within the industry. I’m sure that KQ would be more than happy to have her work with us, but when I hinted at that, she didn’t seem interested.”

“Really?” Although KQ Entertainment is still one of the smaller companies in the industry, most unsigned artists would still jump at the chance to work there since they have a good reputation, especially due to ATEEZ’s popularity.

“I haven’t poked too much, it’s not really my business. I thought I might as well try. I just know that she’s amazing at her job and I’m grateful that I get to work with her at all.”

They turn the corner to the hallway that leads to the recording studio. The door is ajar and Hongjoong opens it, waving his arm forward to allow Chan to walk through first, before following closely behind.

HALLA’s sitting at the desk and the second Chan sees her face, he stops in his tracks.

“Y/n,” Chan breathes.

You look up, startled, and your eyes connect for a split second before Hongjoong crashes into Chan, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Hyung,” Hongjoong complains, unaware of Chan’s inner turmoil. “Why’d you stop?”

Chan lets out an apologetic wheeze from where he’s now trapped under Hongjoong, before resting his forehead against the ground. He needs a second to recover.

It feels like a punch to the gut to see you in front of the recording studio’s computer, fiddling with a track. You look different, but somehow it feels like Chan has been transported right back to his trainee days and all that time that the two of you had spent side by side.

It has been years since Chan last saw you. He had found out that you had left JYPE just months after Stray Kids officially debuted, but all efforts to track you down had been futile. You had changed your number and broken contact with all the other trainees. He had asked around a little bit, but everyone he talked to had been unusually cagey about the subject.

Suddenly, everything makes more sense, especially the little that he knows about HALLA.

As trainees, Chan’s favourite moments had been when you had regaled him with stories of growing up on Jeju Island. The two of you had connected early on through your shared love of the ocean. You had promised him that if he ever went to visit in his free time, you would take him on the best trails up to the Hallasan, the shield volcano, and show him incredible views from the highest point on the island. Occasionally, your parents would send you care packages and the two of you would open them hidden away in one of the vocal practice rooms, the sweet citrus of hallabong exploding in your mouths.

You had always spoken about Jeju Island so fondly, of course you would find a way to indirectly pay homage through the stage name that you chose.

“Oppa,” your voice rings out in the silence of the room. Now, Chan knows why the female voice on some of HALLA’s songs had always seemed hauntingly familiar. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” both Chan and Hongjoong say at the same time, then make eye contact with identical confused expressions.

“Hongjoong-ssi, you didn’t mention that the person you wanted to feature on the track was Channie-oppa,” you say, making it clear who you were addressing your concern to earlier.

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Hongjoong gets up slowly, dusting off his clothes and scratching at the back of his head, still looking bewildered. “I had no idea that you two knew each other, hyung mentioned he hadn’t worked with you before.”

Chan stays quiet, not sure how much you’re willing to share. Hongjoong must not know about your time with JYPE if he can’t piece together how the two of you could have met.

“Oh- I used to- We trained together back in the day,” you explain sheepishly. “I was with JYPE for a little while and all the trainees knew who Channie-oppa was. That was a long time ago though, I didn’t use the name HALLA back then.”

The five years that you trained at JYPE are more than a little while, but Chan forces himself to bite his tongue at your deliberate understatement. You don’t elaborate further and while it’s obvious that Hongjoong isn’t satisfied with your answer, he’s willing to drop the topic for now. You look relieved when he switches the subject to the song.

The three of you finish recording quickly. It shouldn’t be a surprise, the work so far with Hongjoong has been smooth so adding you to the mix has just made things easier, but Chan knows he’s a perfectionist and it often takes him an almost embarrassing number of takes before he’s satisfied. The only delay comes when Hongjoong decides he wants you to sing some of the backing vocals and resorts to actually getting on his knees and begging. Chan doesn’t go so far, but he can’t help but agree that your voice blends with the song perfectly. Of course, he also just wants to hear you sing.

You relent when Chan quietly voices his agreement and it really shouldn't make Chan feel as smug as it does.

It’s not even early enough for dinner when things are wrapped up. Chan is usually eager to finish a schedule early, but he’s reluctant to leave, taking his time packing up his belongings.

Finally, he doesn’t have a reason to stay any longer so he musters up the courage to ask.

“Do you guys want to go grab some coffee or something to eat?”

You and Hongjoong make eye contact before turning to look at Chan guiltily. His stomach churns for some reason.

“I’m sorry,” you wince. “I actually promised to help Hongjoong-ssi with an ATEEZ song and we need to go over the edits that I made before his meeting with the company later today.”

“Oh,” Chan replies, feeling a little relieved. “Right, no yeah I get it. Hongjoong actually mentioned that earlier, but I forgot. My bad.”

You offer an apologetic smile before turning to the computer, opening up a file.

“I’ll see you guys next time, then,” Chan says, starting to back out of the room.

“Of course! Thank you for your hard work and good job today!” you say brightly. Looking distracted, Hongjoong mumbles an agreement and waves goodbye. Unlike you, he’s not staring at the computer monitor though. Instead, his focus is solely on you. Even from his side profile, Chan can tell that he’s enamoured.

Honestly, Chan can’t really blame him, you look comfortable and confident, swallowed up in an oversized hoodie as you start explaining the alterations that you made to the track. Your voice is calm, but warm and you’re careful to start off by complimenting the work that Hongjoong had done previously.

Chan leaves, resolutely ignoring the twisted feeling that’s back with a vengeance and any thoughts of what the cause might be.

—

Chan can’t sleep. His thoughts are all about you, what you’ve been doing the past few years, what happened to you at JYPE that made you leave, and mostly trying to remember how and why your relationship with him slowly fell apart.

That’s the hardest part. In the darkest time of his life, when Chan had been discouraged and disheartened, you had joined JYPE with a brightness and enthusiasm that gave Chan the motivation to continue being a trainee. He had adored you. He still does.

In those last few months before the survival show had been filmed, Chan’s relationship with you had gone from being everything to nothing. It happened in the blink of an eye, and Chan had never understood what caused you to withdraw so quickly and thoroughly. The two of you had gone from spending almost all of your free time together to you avoiding him at the company, pretending not to hear when he called out your name or tried to get your attention.

The regret of letting you slip away has always eaten away at him, but now more than ever.

Of course, at the time it hadn’t felt so simple. The survival show was Chan’s first serious chance to debut, and not just that, but the weight of having eight other people’s careers depending on his leadership took a toll on all his other relationships. Your absence in his life still hurt, but Chan had lots of practice losing people. He had coped in the way that worked best in the past, throwing himself headlong into producing, training, anything to keep himself from wallowing in his feelings.

Chan doesn’t have any schedules for today, but he still heads to the company. He knows this isn’t the healthiest way to deal with things, but he doesn’t know anything else.

When he arrives, Chan just barely manages to catch a glimpse of a few familiar faces. He calls out before he can think better of it, jogging slightly to catch up. Sana, Momo, and Mina watch curiously as he approaches. He knows that Twice also aren’t in a busy period of the year, so he doesn’t feel guilty delaying them.

“Sorry to bother you all. Sana-noona, I was just wondering if we could chat?”

Sana makes brief eye contact with the rest of the girls before agreeing and waving them to go ahead of her. She follows behind Chan as he leads them into his studio, clearly interested in determining the reason behind this atypical meet up.

“What’s up, Channie?” she asks once the door is closed behind them.

Chan tries to think of the best way to start, not wanting to just outright ask, but not knowing how to subtly steer the conversation into the right direction. Finally, he abandons trying to be casual and just blurts out, “Do you remember Y/n?”

“Of course I do,” Sana says, sounding amused at the sudden mention of you. “You both had reputations for being veteran trainees. I mean, other than Jihyo.”

“I was always surprised that she never debuted,” Chan admits. “I just thought it would happen eventually and I was so shocked to find out that she had left. I didn’t- I don’t understand why she gave up on something she wanted so badly.”

“Give up?” Sana asks, sounding like she’s offended on your behalf. “Why would you say it like that?”

“What do you mean? It was like she was there one day and gone the next, I just assumed that she had enough and quit. Nobody seemed to know anything about it. I never found out why and it’s been kind of killing me.”

“You didn’t hear what happened?”

“What- something happened? To her?” Chan swallows hard, suddenly feeling unwell.

“It- I thought that you of all people would know-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, but- you never talked to her about it? You knew her better than any of us.”

“Noona, I didn’t know that she was gone until months later. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it to me, I never reached out at first. When I finally did, her number had been changed. What was I supposed to do?”

“I- It’s better if you were to hear it from her. I don’t know the full story and you know how things can be distorted through gossip. And you especially must know how dangerous that can be.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You really have no clue? The two of you were inseparable…”

“Please,” Chan pleads.

“You know how it is in the industry, you were so close, of course there were rumours…”

It suddenly clicks.

“But we were just friends! And the dating ban-”

“Chan, you know nobody actually sticks to those, right?”

“But really, we were never-”

“I believe you,” Sana says, carefully. “But you know that to management that it doesn’t really matter whether or not anything was actually going on. To them it’s all about the optics. A perceived relationship is just as dangerous as an actual one.”

“Management…” Chan repeats, his mind racing. “They never mentioned anything to me though.”

“You never found it suspicious? You two are extremely close and out of the blue she suddenly stops talking to you, then right after the two of you stop hanging out, you’re chosen for the survival show? Someone must have talked to her at some point. Maybe not management, but for sure someone.”

“You think that’s why it took so long for me to debut?” Chan asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“It was a liability,” Sana explains. “To have a dating scandal so early on? Neither of your careers would survive. It’s painful and a terrible part of the industry but it’s true.”

“And.. Why she left, you know about that too?” Chan pleads.

“I think I’ve said too much already. I know that it’s hard, but some things are really personal.” She pauses for a moment. “What brought this on, anyway? You haven’t mentioned Y/nnie in years.”

“I can’t say much, but I- I saw her today, got to talk to her, found out what she’s been up to.” Sana gasps. Chan continues. “It was so weird to see her after so long. In the back of my mind, I had always wondered, but…”

“I’m glad that you two got to reconnect,” Sana says gently. “The two of you cared about each other a lot, that much was obvious. Talk to her, I think at the very least you’ll be able to find peace about what happened.”

“Noona-” Chan reaches out and pulls Sana into a tight hug. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’m sorry that it took so long for you to find out.”

—

A few days later, Hongjoong schedules another session to work on the song. Leading up to it, Chan is both looking forward to it and nervous, not sure what to expect. Although he still really wants to know what happened to you all those years ago, he’s scared about what he might learn and any part he might have had in it.

After a sleepless night, he ends up arriving almost 15 minutes early. This time, Hongjoong isn’t waiting at the building’s entrance. Instead he had let him know a few days before that Chan could just sign himself in and had sent him the name and location of the studio that was booked. When Chan reaches it, he can make out conversation from inside.

“HALLA,” Hongjoong can be heard through the studio doors, which aren’t fully shut. His tone is petulant and much more casual than it was previously. Chan wonders how much time the two of you have spent together between then and now and he almost misses the next thing that Hongjoong says. “You never told me that you were a trainee before.”

That stops Chan in his tracks, interested in how you’ll respond.

“It was a long time ago.” Your voice is faint. You’re still nice, but Chan can tell that your voice is stiffer than usual. “It doesn’t really matter now.”

This time, Hongjoong doesn’t let it go.

“What happened?” he prods.

“Just drop it,” you warn him. “It’s the past, forget I told you in the first place. Nothing ever came of it anyway.”

“Y/n-” Hongjoong changes tactics, the nagging tone replaced with a quieter, more serious one. You sigh.

“It didn’t work out. Obviously. I’m just not idol material.”

“Oh come on, I don’t believe that for a second. Your producing is good enough that I know for sure you’ve been getting offers to work with more companies than just KQ. When you direct during recording, you can hit every note without any warm up or practice. And I’ve heard your original songs, you must have been considered for both the position of lead rapper and lead singer as a trainee because there’s no way that anybody would let your talent go to waste.” Hongjoong is breathing hard by the end of his rant and Chan can see that this is something that has been bothering him for a while.

“It’s okay, Hongjoong-oppa.” Your voice is gentle, like you’re trying to comfort him. “I’m happy with what I have right now. Really. I’m grateful for all the freedom I have. Getting to work on any project I want and experiment with my music without having to deal with the bureaucracy and politics of the industry? Having that independence is precious to me. I wanted to be an idol for a long long time. But even though that specific plan I had didn’t work out, it doesn’t mean I’m not happy with what I’m doing.”

Hongjoong stays quiet for a while.

“Do you think that if you had the opportunity to debut as an idol now, you would?” he finally asks.

“Oppa, it’s not possible. I can’t dance, I’m too old-” you protest.

“No no, just hypothetically. Like if someone walked into the room and handed you a contract and said that if you signed it in an hour then you’d be able to debut.”

“I- I don’t know.”

“What’s your gut feeling?”

“I think I left that dream behind, I don’t know if I want to go down that path again. I don’t think I have it in me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong says after another pause. “I shouldn’t have questioned you so much, you shouldn’t have to justify your decisions to me.”

“No, it’s fine. It seems strange, right? For me to be an artist in Seoul and not want to get signed, it's only natural for you to be curious. But I learned a lot when I was a trainee and I learned even more after that and I can say with certainty that this is what I want.”

Chan takes that opportunity to knock on the studio door and push it open.

“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, as if he wasn’t just eavesdropping on their conversation and purposely chose when to cut in. “Sorry, I’m a little bit late.”

“Hey, no problem man,” Hongjoong says. “We haven’t had a chance to do anything yet, so you’re right on time.”

“Good to see you,” you chime in. “I think this should be pretty quick so let’s get started!”

As you predicted, it doesn’t take long before a majority of the song is finished. Normally, Chan would be keen to stay involved until the very last detail is finalised, but he trusts you and at the end of this day, it’s Hongjoong’s song so he’s happy to give him the final say.

At the end of the session, Chan once again uses the opportunity to try to catch you alone. The two of you are side by side, packing your bags and Chan asks if you have any plans for the rest of the day. You confirm that you're available and Chan is about to suggest that the two of you take the time to catch up when Hongjoong interrupts.

“Oh, Y/n-ah,” he says. “I was actually hoping to get your input on something and I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier. Can you please stick around for a bit? Sorry, hyung.”

Hongjoong sounds so sincere that Chan almost doesn’t feel annoyed that he’s stealing all of your time and attention. Almost, because at the end of the day, Chan’s only human. Even though he knows he has no right to feel possessive over you, he can’t stop the petty jealousy that bubbles up inside of him. At this point, there’s no denying the emotion.

Just like the previous session, he leaves alone, heading directly to the studio. Hours later, his breath catches when he checks his phone and sees that you’ve texted him.

[Received - 8:04pm]

Channie-oppa~

[Received - 8:04pm]

This is Y/nnie

[Received - 8:05pm]

Sorry about earlier, I have a contract with KQ Entertainment and work comes first :/

[Received - 8:09pm]

But I’m free now! You still interested in catching up?

Chan stares at the messages until it feels like they’re burned into his retinas. Logically, he knew that you had his number, the two of you were in a group chat that Hongjoong had set up, but this was your first time messaging him privately. The first time you had reached out in years. A precious opportunity that he never thought that he would have. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

He’s also shocked to see you texting so casually. Although the two of you have been comfortable in person, he wasn’t sure that it would translate to one-on-one conversation.

[Sent - 8:10pm]

Hey Y/n!

[Sent - 8:11pm]

No worries at all, I understand. I’m the same way too

[Sent - 8:13pm]

I still wanna meet up… but I’m all the way back in Gangdong-gu 😅 It’d be a bit of a trek for you if you're still at KQ

[Received - 8:13pm]

Gangdong-gu?

[Received - 8:14pm]

Ohh JYPE

[Received - 8:14pm]

My bad, forgot that you guys moved

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Yeahhh

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Headed straight back to the company after we were done, sorry

[Received - 8:18pm]

Well… If you’re willing to wait then I don’t mind. KQ is close to a metro station anyway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

Wait, really?

[Sent - 8:18pm]

No no no, don’t take the subway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

I’ll send a driver. They’re gonna pick you up in 20 min

[Received - 8:19pm]

Wowow

[Received - 8:19pm]

Private driver?

[Received - 8:20pm]

You’re a real superstar now haha

[Sent - 8:21pm]

alsfjshkafs noooooooo

[Sent - 8:21pm]

It’s just faster

[Sent - 8:21pm]

and safer

[Received - 8:22pm]

I’m not complaining

[Received - 8:22pm]

but I’m going to get your autograph when I see you

[Received - 8:23pm]

If I sell it then I can probably afford my own private driver 🤭

[Sent - 8:24pm]

Knew it

[Sent - 8:25pm]

You’re just using me for my fame

[Received - 8:26pm]

Ah you got me this time

[Received - 8:26pm]

*Your fame, your talent, and your good looks

[Received - 8:27pm]

Even tho you were the one that said you wanted to meet up

[Received - 8:27pm]

Hmmm maybe you’re the one using me?

Chan listens to his phone as it continues to vibrate from where it’s lodged in between two of the couch cushions after he threw it across to the opposite side of the room. His face is buried in his hands and flaming red. He feels both giddy and terribly embarrassed.

Chan’s no stranger to flirting, he’s experienced his fair share being on either side through interactions with the members and with Stay, but he forgot how flustered he was being on the receiving end of your teasing. The part he never understood is that your playful tone always gave way to sincerity. Even when the two of you would joke around, he could always tell that you meant every comment that you made about Chan being talented or attractive and that flattered him almost as much as it baffled him.

[Received - 8:32pm]

?? Speechless that I caught on?

[Received - 8:36pm]

I think your driver has arrived… Otherwise I’m being kidnapped

[Received - 8:40pm]

Don’t think I would survive a horror film… I got into the car with no questions asked

[Received - 8:42pm]

It was nice knowing you I guess

When he realises how much time has passed, Chan grabs his phone and runs down to the back entrance of the company. Luckily you haven’t arrived yet and he takes the time to reply to your messages.

[Sent - 8:53pm]

Sorry, lost track of time

[Sent - 8:53pm]

They’ll drop you off at the back door, I’ll meet you there so you don’t have to get signed in or anything

[Received - 8:54pm]

Don’t think you’re getting away with ignoring my other texts

[Received - 8:55pm]

But thanks

[Received - 8:55pm]

Is this back door, the famous one that only allows in authorised people?

[Received - 8:55pm]

I’m honoured

Chan rolls his eyes at your cheesy reference and is in the middle of typing up a response when he sees the car pull up. You step out cautiously, then brighten when you see where Chan’s propping up the door.

“Hey,” Chan greets you. “Glad that you made it safely.”

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, looking around curiously as Chan leads you to an elevator that takes you to the rest of the building. “So this is the new and improved JYP Entertainment. I’d say that it looks the same as before, but I never got the chance to come in.”

“Yeah,” Chan says, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he walks. “I mean it’s pretty nice, but at the end of the day a practice room is a practice room and that’s where we spend most of our time.”

“Hmm I think we might have to agree to disagree on that one. You have your own studio don’t you?”

“Ah, kind of. It’s technically a shared one, but practically I’m the only one that uses it unless we’re out of the country for a long time,” Chan confirms.

“Seems a lot better than what we used to have! Do you remember when we used to cram ourselves into that tiny room that barely even fit two chairs and a table?”

“I almost forgot about that, it was so terrible! In the summer it would get so hot that we’d keep the door open-”

“And then someone would come yell at us because we’d be playing music too loud-”

“I remember begging management to install a portable air conditioner on multiple occasions, but they always refused.”

“Of course! Even if they weren’t so stingy, there weren’t any windows leading outside in there, how could they install it?”

“Is that why? I always thought they just wanted us to suffer.”

“That too,” you giggle for a moment, before your smile fades. “But they weren’t totally unreasonable. Management has a different perspective than us, sometimes they know better than us because of their understanding of the industry. They can see things that we don’t.”

It’s clear that you’re no longer talking about air conditioning anymore. A lump seems to have formed in Chan’s throat when he recalls his conversation with Sana. Luckily, the two of you have just arrived and Chan forces himself to smile.

“We’re here,” he says, opening the door and motioning for you to enter ahead of him. “Welcome to Channie’s Room!”

“It’s cute!” you say as you step in. “Very… neat. It’s actually more spacious than it looks.”

“Oh,” Chan says, faltering in his steps for a second. “You- you’ve seen my studio?”

“In case you didn’t realise, you go live every week from said studio. I think at this point everyone in the K-pop industry and every K-pop fan has seen it,” you tease.

“Right, yeah. I didn’t- I wasn’t sure how much you kept up with that kind of stuff,” Chan stammers.

“K-pop or do you mean specifically Stray Kids?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Either I guess," Chan shrugs.

"I will admit that it took me a while to get back into it," you say slowly. "I wasn't... in the best mindset after I left." Chan stays quiet, sensing that you're not quite finished. "I know that I disappeared and I am sorry for not reaching out. I wanted to, but I also didn't know how. I know that I hurt you. That it was cruel to avoid you, not reply to your messages, ignore your calls. I had my reasons why, but it doesn't excuse the pain that I caused, and I'm sorry for that too."

“I think,” Chan swallows hard. “I think that the most difficult part was that for the longest time, I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I asked Sana about it finally, after I saw you again. And I just felt so stupid to realise that it was obvious to everyone except me."

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wanted to tell you, of course I wanted to. But I also knew you. If I had told you that us being together was preventing your debut-”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Chan finishes your sentence for you, starting to understand. “I would have done anything to keep you by my side.”

"Even if it meant throwing away your career," you say softly. "I couldn't let you do that to yourself. You worked so hard, how could I live with being the reason that you were stuck in the training rooms? You belong on stage, making music.”

"The part that I still don’t get though is why you left? You should have been able to debut as well, I know it."

“Ah,” you say wistfully. You look around and grab onto the pillow that’s on the couch beside you, fidgeting with it as you figure out what to say next. “You know, I actually was supposed to debut.”

“What? How come I never heard about it?” Chan feels a pang in his chest. All these years ago, the two of you had promised that the other would be the first person that they would tell if they ever found out that they had the chance to debut. It seemed that neither of them had kept their promise.

“It was supposed to be a secret project. JYP wanted to see how successful a surprise debut announcement would be. You should have seen the NDAs that they made us sign.” You shake your head, letting out a huff of air. “It turned out to be a good decision because it meant they could cancel it without anyone knowing that we existed in the first place.”

"Who was in the group?" Chan asks.

"There were five of us. I think you know all of them, Sumin, Ryujin, Sojin, and Hyowon," you list. You're right, Chan is either familiar with or has heard of all the girls that you mention. It doesn't make sense though, the group was filled with talented individuals and Chan can't think of any reason strong enough to lead to disbandment. Even more baffling is that of the five of you, only Ryujin ended up staying at the company long enough to join the lineup for another group.

"And they just cancelled it out of nowhere?"

“No... It was- I know that for any idol, preparing for debut is tough, but I think that in some ways, it’s especially brutal for the girl groups," you say instead. Chan doesn't question you further, knowing that you must have a point that you're trying to make.

“How so?” Chan has an idea, he’s seen what the female trainees went through, the differences in how they were evaluated and criticised. But he wants to hear it from you, wants to understand what you’ve been through.

“The visual aspect feels like it’s more heavily emphasised than our talent or skills. We were measured for our music video outfits the second they finalised the concept. It was really early on, but at the time I thought it was so exciting and fun that I didn’t question it. I think that all of us were so thrilled by the thought of debuting that we didn't think anything of it. We did our final fittings for it a few weeks before filming and they had made them all a size too small, everything was just a little bit too tight. They didn’t outright say it, but it was implied that they weren’t going to alter them. It was a choice to lose weight or our chance to debut was gone. We were devastated and angry and eventually just resigned. If that's what it took then I would do it. We dieted like crazy for the time leading up to filming,” you laugh, but it's in disbelief, the sound is hollow.

Paired with what you’re saying, it makes Chan want to burn the whole world down. He doesn't say anything, not sure if he can even open his mouth without letting his rage escape, something that you don't deserve.

“We were practising, like always," you continue. "There was a tricky step that needed to be fixed by the next day when we’d be recording, a flip that we hadn't quite mastered. I was the smallest one on the team, so I was the one being flipped. It must have been like 3 or 4 in the morning, we were all tired, hungry, and nervous about filming. Honestly, I don't quite remember what happened, it was all a blur. There was just this feeling that something went wrong and then pain."

You roll up the pants on your left leg and show off the skin there. Chan has to hold back a gasp at the sight. Even though it’s long healed, the scarring is extensive and obvious. Chan can't imagine how much it must have hurt.

“I broke my ankle in two places and sprained my wrist. I couldn't believe it, five years of my life just gone in an instant. It took months before I could walk and even longer before I could dance again. Even now, I can't dance anywhere close to the way that I used to," you say with a watery smile. “Sojinnie had a concussion from the fall and Suminnie dislocated her shoulder, I must have knocked into them or fallen onto them or something. What could we do? Three out of the five of us were out of commission, there was no time and no budget for a group that hadn’t even debuted to find replacements or re-record and re-film everything. I woke up after surgery and they told me that they were sorry, but my contract with the company was over. That someone had helped me pack up all my things in the dorm. I went back to Jeju-do as soon as I was released from the hospital.”

"I- I'm sorry that I didn't know," Chan says, clearing his throat roughly when his voice breaks partway through the sentence. " I wish that I could have been there, to help or comfort you. I should have-"

"Oppa," you respond gently. "It's okay. I didn't tell anybody what happened and the company also kept things quiet. I'm glad you didn't find out at the time. You had other, more important things to focus on, I didn't want to distract you from that."

"You're not a distraction," Chan says incredulously. "You're important to me, I would have dropped everything to be with you in such a difficult time."

"And that's exactly why I couldn't tell you. You've always been too good to me, Channie-oppa," you sniffle. "Look at you now! I'm so always proud when I think of how far you've come."

Chan lifts a trembling hand and carefully cups your face, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that has started making its way down your cheek. He hears your breathing hitch, but you don't object to his touch. If anything, you melt into it.

Chan takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, bringing you close. The gesture breaks the dam of tears that you must have been holding back. Chan rocks the two of you back and forth gently, just letting you cry and trying to surreptitiously wipe away his own tears. It takes a few minutes before you calm, taking huge shuddering breaths that break Chan's heart almost as much as your sobs had.

"I'm sorry," you say with a voice thick with emotion.

"Hey, no," Chan reassures you. "There's no need to apologise. Are you feeling better now?"

You nod slowly, head still pressed against Chan's chest.

"I think- I think I just missed you. I always thought it would get easier, not having you in my life, but it never did."

At your words, Chan can't help his arms from tightening, squeezing you close.

"I finally found you again," he says. "And this time, I promise that I won't ever let you go."

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[riot-control-camp]

WIP Wednesday!

finally starting these! tagged by the mutuals (and others) who put "you, the one reading this" in their tag lists /lh thank you i love you all

i have. SO MANY FUCKING WIPS IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY but the main two i've been working on are as follows!

details under the cut!

1. "Hello My Old Heart"

this is a davey/angel canon-divergence where angel is a wedding planner recruited to assist in the organization of asher and babe's wedding! david did not know about this and he is Not Thrilled that his ex that he parted with under...complicated circumstances is now part of the wedding planning that he can Totally Handle On His Own, Thank You Very Much

Excerpt:

“We haven’t even touched the idea of planning anything yet, because you stubborn shits can’t focus for three fucking seconds,” David points out, smoothing his menu over the booth table. He’s starting to think this is another one of Ash’s half-baked schemes to get him out of the house; they’ve met up to start organizing twice in the past week with no results except a large tab.   “We haven’t done that because you can’t stop lookin’ around like everyone in this bar is planning a flash re-enactment of the Ides of fuckin’ March,” Milo says. “Stop bein’ an idiot.”   “That’s my best man, saving the day from...well, from my other best man,” Asher jokes. “But, I’m serious, buddy. The second we order, Babe’s fancy notebook is coming out to play, alright?”   David growls, because the waiter has come over asking if they’re ready to order at least three different times, only to get waved away without so much as an appetizer to show for it. At this rate, they’ll be here until the bar closes. “Keep lying to yourself, Ash. And you better tip well—we've been hogging the table for an hour and wasting their opportunity to get customers who actually know what they want.”   “We are going to tip excellently,” Asher concedes. “As a group. But until then, drink your drink and try to chill out.”  

2. "Never Love an Anchor" (which should tell you all you need to know about my music taste and how i title things /lh)

this is a magnus archives wip i've had cooking for a long time without a lot of time to dedicate to it, but the conceit is immortal jon and time traveler martin who's been searching for a cure for his mom.

Excerpt:

“You’re back again?” Jon says, like he’s bored of it. It’s one of the worse acts he’s put on, hiding his smile in the folds of his robes instead of keeping it off his face altogether.   “Yes,” says Martin.   “In that case, your books are in the corner, and I’ll get your pallet out from storage--though I expect it’s more mildew than anything else at this point. Still, you’re welcome to it.” Jon points to an unassuming crate in the corner, turned on its side as a bookshelf.   The spines of the books are all dusted. “You didn’t have to do that,” Martin says, flushing helplessly.   “I know,” Jon says as he climbs up to the eaves and pulls the second pallet and its accompanying dust cloud down from its nook.  “It just didn’t seem right to let them rot, and it only took a few moments a day to keep them in working order.”   Martin crosses the room and wraps his arms around Jon’s turned back. “You missed me.”   Jon tenses in surprise, then melts back into him, resting his head on Martin’s shoulder. “Yes,” he admits.  “More than you know.”   Martin nestles his chin on top of Jon’s head, humming contentedly. For a few minutes, they stand there, taking each other in and listening to the rustling of the trees outside.  Martin opens his eyes, not knowing when he closed them and spitting out a tiny bit of Jon’s hair. “So,” he starts a little too knowingly, “are we still pretending that this pallet is actually usable after spending at least a decade up in your attic?”  “I,” Jon says primly, “have no idea what you are implying.” 

that's all folks! sorry for any formatting chaos as i have Not Done This Before (/lh) take care and thanks for reading!

[starrystevie]

listen, i know we all love knows-he's-queer- from-early-on eddie munson and bisexual-awakening steve harrington (i know i love them), but let's think a minute about confidently queer steve harrington being eddie's queer awakening?

steve thinking eddie is into guys so he's actively hitting on him, peering up at him from under his eyebrows, throwing smirks around and purposefully rolling his tshirt sleeves a bit too high so eddie will check him out. he pulls out all his stops and robin is cheering him on silently in the background every time he strikes out with eddie, both of them slowly coming to the conclusion that he's not into guys so he backs off.

and eddie? well, he really likes how steve was flirting with him. misses the way he'd flex and slap playfully at his arm and look at him with bedroom eyes now that he's putting some distance between them. eddie can't fucking take it. he doesn't know why he misses all of that, just knows that he does. so eddie does what anyone would do, he asks dustin.

dustin, who tries to get him to have an open mind to the fact that maybe, just maybe, he likes flirting with steve. that he likes boys too or just boys or maybe just steve but that he does at least like steve. dustin sees the heart eyes that eddie gives steve and sees the puppy dog eyes when steve starts to pull back. he meddles and pushes and gets it to where steve and eddie finally confront that yes, steve likes eddie and yes, eddie likes steve back but that it's new for him. it's all new, being in a relationship and liking a boy for the first time.

but steve holds his hand gently. he pushes curls behind his ears and wraps his arm around his shoulders when they watch tv. he takes it at whatever pace eddie wants because that's what a good boyfriend does and eddie can't help but grin because the word boyfriend is now getting thrown around. cause who would have thought? eddie munson has a boyfriend and that has such a nice ring to it.

[neon-junkie]

HIIIIII UR NEW WILLSCUELLA FIC WAS SO CUTE I WISH THERE WAS MORE WILLSCUELLA CONTENT *CRIES* THANK U THOSE BOYS ARE ALL THATS KEEPING ME GOING. ID LOVE IT IF U WROTE ABOUT THEM MORE!!

THANK YOU <3  when I managed to glitch into the rdr2 Mexico map the other week, I went up onto that big cliff north of Diez Corona and just gormed at my TV cause the view up there is so pretty ;-; so here’s a lil RDR1 Willscuella fic based off that sight I saw the other week

"Nue.. new... neuo..." Bill continues to grumble, attempting to pronounce a non-English word. Javier knows by now that Bill's never going to get it, even if he broke the word down and took his time with it, but Bill continues to 'attempt' his pronunciation. "Bill... come on," Javier sighs, slowing his mount down slightly so Bill can catch up to him. They'd been riding inline whilst passing north of Diez Corona, traveling down the somewhat busy roads as they headed further south, trying to get as far from New Austin (and John) as they can. Javier had paddled across the river, sneaking into the state to pick Bill up and save his ass, and the two had only just returned. Bill was adamant about paddling the canoe on the way back, saying it's the least he could do since Javier had agreed to bail him out, so Javier relaxed and enjoyed the sight of Bill struggling to paddle them to the other side. Bill's still got his eyes forward, his brain ticking away as he continues trying to figure out how to pronounce the name of the state they're in. Javier had told him off for just calling it Mexico, and said that if he was going to stay here a while, then the least he could do was learn a little bit of the language. "Let's try it again, huh? Say it with me, Bill. Nue-vo Par-ai-so," Javier says slowly. "New... Neuo... Shit!" Bill grumbles again, exhaling heavily. Javier sighs, rolling his eyes dramatically as he steers off the road, finding his own trail amongst the dirt. "Aye, I give up with you, Bill," Javier tuts, peering over at Bill. He knows that Bill's probably never going to get it; he's known Bill for well over a decade, a very long decade, and even after things had gone south and they'd split off, Javier still ended up helping the larger man out when he needed it. "I don't blame you. I would, if I were you," Bill agrees, staring at the dirt rather than where they were heading, letting his mount lead the way. 

"We'll hitch the horses here. I want some lunch," Javier says as he comes to a halt, hitching his horse on what's left of a tree and taking some food from his saddlebags. Bill does the same, almost standing on another cactus in the process. That's not the first time he's gotten close to hurting himself, though he's managed a few times since they'd arrived. Bill pulls some food from his own saddlebags then peers his head around, realizing that Javier has wandered from his sight. He notices Javiers pointy sombrero and follows it, realizing that Javier had continued forward a few paces, heading down onto a small ledge. Bill takes a seat next to Javier, using the small ledge as shade as they lean back against it. He finally lifts his head up to notice where they were and the sight below them. They'd been traveling along a cliff, overlooking the vast Mexican landscape. There's an array of buttes below, surrounded by the dry desert and an odd sprinkle of plants. The heat can be seen radiating from the earth, small waves rising from the sand, making Bill rub his eyes just to ensure he's seeing things correctly. Javier notices the way Bill's looking at the landscape. He thought Bill had seen it all before with the dryness of New Austin, but Bill had never seen a butte before, nor how the earth was a vibrant gold shade rather than the dirty sand shade of New Austin. "You like what you see?" Javier asks, his mouth half-full with his food. His manners had gone out the window a long time ago, though Bill never bothered much with his. "Yeah, s'pretty," Bill tells him, finally dipping his head down to open the packaging to his food. "It's different to what I'm used to, I ain't seen stuff like that before," Bill comments as he points to the buttes, the large rock formations dotted about the landscape. "Yeah, Mexico's a beautiful country. I've told you that many times before, but now you get to see it for yourself," Javier says with a soft laugh, his mind flashing back to all those years ago where Javier would tell stories about his homeland around the campfire, enjoying the way his former gang members faces lit up as he described the landscape. "Finally," Bill nods, his gaze fixated on his food, but Javier snaps his head across to give Bill a confused look. "Finally?" Javier repeats. "Well, yeah. You has always said how pretty it is, 'n' now I get to see it for myself," Bill says with a shrug. "I never thought you cared for those stories? You never really said anything when I told them." "I didn't really know what to say, plus the others would always jump in with their questions 'n' stuff," Bill shrugs again. Javier pauses for a moment, going over all those events in his head. Bill seems unphased, focused on eating, whilst Javiers mouth remains empty as he thinks about his flashback. Javier eventually decides to remain silent, unsure of what to say, unsure if he should ask the many things that have been on his mind since they went their separate ways. Javier finally picks up once he's finished his meal, leaning back against the rock, his eyes gazing out at his mother country. "Bill?" he asks. "Mhm?" Bill replies, finishing off his food. "Did you ever think you'd end up here? As in, did you ever think you'd visit Mexico?" Javier questions. "Not really..." Bill answers. He opens his mouth again but quickly shuts it, his facial expression becoming focused as he runs through a few other answers in his head. "I thought... well, maybe..." Bill trails off, unsure of the right words. "You mean, you thought you would, but not like this?" Javier asks. "Yeah, not on these terms. Not on Marstons terms," Bill agrees, his brows furrowing slightly at the thought of John. "Yeah, I understand..." Javier sighs. He pauses for a moment, coming to terms with what he knows is going to happen. "You know, John isn't going to stop until he's got us." "Not unless we get him first," Bill says with a confident laugh. "You might be able to do that, but I can't..." Bill looks over at Javier, questioning why he won't stand up for himself. "Why?" he asks. "He's family, you know," Javier shrugs. "He ain't much family if he's tryna kill you." "I guess you're right." Javier and Bill remain in silence, enjoying the shade whilst it lasts, gazing out at the landscape and watching the clouds pass by. They both want to talk about the elephant in the room, about the way they split up all those years ago. Bill's eager to question why Javier even decided to help him in the first place, and Javier wants to ask why Bill contacted him, though he already knows it's because Bill has nobody left. Though Javier doesn't know that Bill's attempted to contact him before, he's written letter after letter but ended up scrunching up the paper and tossing it into the fire, never able to find the right things to say. "You wanna get going?" Javier finally speaks up, breaking the silence. "Sure," Bill nods in agreement. Javier's about to get up but Bill speaks again. "Can we... like... we know we is gonna die here. So, could we just.. you know..." Bill asks with a shrug. He keeps his gaze away from Javiers, not wanting Javier to see his flustered and unconfident face, nor wanting to see how Javier will react. Maybe Javier will push him off this cliff for asking such a thing, but Javier surprises him instead. "I know what you're asking," Javier tells him, his eyes wide. He doesn't bother hiding the smile on his face, nor the soft laugh he lets out. "Yeah, we can, Bill," Javier agrees. They both know their ends are near, but if they can enjoy their final moments together, then at least they'll die happy. They look at each other, a pair of old, tired men, gazing into each other's eyes like a bunch of lovestruck children. Javier removes him sombrero, setting it on his lap as he shuffles a little closer to Bill. He knows by now that Bill never removes his hat, he's always been so self-conscious of his balding. A pair of slightly chapped lips meet Javiers, and the two almost freeze up in the moment. It's been so many years since they'd last seen each other, even more since they'd kissed. Though they fall into sync, remembering just how they both like it; the right angles, the specific tilt so their noses don't bump, the soft biting to Bill's bottom lip that always drives him crazy. Bill reaches up to run his fingers into Javier's hair, short jagged locks that he's definitely cut himself. He remembers the way Javier would swat his hand away whenever he used to try that, not wanting to mess up his ponytail. The two stay connected for some time, attempting to catch up on some of the years they've missed, though they've got a long way to go to make up for it. Javier eventually breaks the kiss, knowing Bill could sit here for hours with his lips locked with the younger man. "Come on, old man," Javier says with a laugh. "Old man? You can't talk," Bill replies, his voice grumbly as always. "I haven't got any grey hairs yet, unlike you," Javier teases, stroking his thumb over the grey patch to Bill's moustache. Bill lets out a frustrated whimper but lets Javier have the last laugh, knowing he's in the right. Javier puts his sombrero back on and stands up, leading the way as they head back to the horses. The pair mount up, Javier leading the way as they continue on their travels. Their eyes catch each others every so often; Javier always smirks, making Bill's cheeks flush red, just like how they used to flirt across camp all those years ago. Javier can't help but smile every time he overhears Bill still trying to pronounce Nuevo Paraiso under his breath. He'll get it eventually.

[jsteneil]

Neil Josten’s Birthday Bash

in which the foxes don’t get anything done, ever

 *

Nicky added Dan, Kevin, Aaron and three others to “Neil Josten's Birthday Bash Organization Committee”.

Nicky: can't add Andrew because he still owns a FLIP PHONE but here we go

Dan: hell yeah B-)

Nicky: kevin can fill him in with the details anyway

Kevin: why me?

Allison: because you live with him?

Matt: you're practically attached at the hip

Dan: omg ur roomm8s

Matt: ^^^ what allison said

Dan: yeah

Nicky: OR aaron can do it on wednesdays so that there's no chance of neil finding out :D

Aaron: no.

Aaron left the chat.

Nicky: what

Nicky: the

Kevin: just add him back

Nicky: fuck

Kevin: ffs

Kevin: some ppl are in class

Nicky added Aaron to the chat.

Aaron: im muting you all

Allison: just embrace the fact that you've lived in SC for years and say y'all

Nicky: y'all!!!

Nicky: yeah

Matt: dude don't how are u gonna know when to buy your coordinated outfit and rehearse the choreography if you mute us

Dan: Aaron?

Renee: I do think he muted us

Allison: fuck a crybaby

Nicky: hey

Allison: what's he gonna do? Unmute us?

Dan: asdhskfjdl ALLI

Matt: lmfao

Nicky: moving ON

Nicky: the important thing here is my boy neil's birthday

Kevin: and you wonder why Aaron left

Nicky: what?

Kevin: maybe Neil doesn't want to celebrate his bday

Nicky: no that's too sad

Nicky: next person?

Allison: not to be that bitch

Matt: oh?

Allison: but do we even know when his birthday is?

Allison: fuck you matthew donovan boyd

Matt: sorry i love you

Dan: it was easy

Dan: matt ur easy

Matt: ily babe

Dan: <3

Kevin: jan 19th

Renee: March 31st?

Allison: wait

Dan: uhhhh

Matt: Neil Josten deserves 2 bdayz

Kevin: no jan 19th

Renee: oh i thought we were using the one he chose for himself

Matt: Renee add a smiley face

Renee: :)

Renee: ?

Dan: babe ur mind,,,, im crying

Matt: ikr

Allison: stop using mygf so

Kevin: is it me or does it sound really passive aggressive bitchy with a smiley face

Dan: ye that's the point

Renee: I really wasn't trying to be

Matt: oh no we know, sorry

Matt: i feel bad now

Matt: it was just funny

Matt: sorry

Dan: :(

Renee: It's okay, don’t worry

Renee: :)

Dan: renee STOP i feel like ur going 2 murder me in my sleep

Renee: I could, but I won't

Nicky: im shaking and im not even in your dorm

Allison: and we daily thank god for that

Nicky: hey im an excellent roommate

Nicky: i always leave so cap and matt can have sexy times

Dan: yeah but then u call it sexy time

Allison: ive seen the bathroom nicky

Nicky: that's aaron

Matt: l o l

Kevin: aaron's a neat freak

Allison: exposed

Nicky: erik come get me the people here are mean

Renee: So when's Neil's actual birthday?

Kevin: jan 19th

Nicky: who's gonna ask andrew?

Kevin: HE HAS REAL PAPERS NOW

Kevin: JUST GO CHECK AND LET ME BE IN CLASS IN PEACE

Allison: well okay drama queen

Dan: kevin: *is on the chat as much as us*

Dan: also kevin: guys why r u dragging me here

Matt: it's okay kevin we can talk about it during practice

Renee: Don't goad him, Matt

Dan: lmfao babe u thought

Matt: uh oh

Allison: lol

Dan: we need 2 trounce the ravens nxt wk

Nicky: do we have to

Dan: y'all r hauling ass @ practice or god help me

Nicky: id settle for a close victory

Matt: nicky if you don't help us close the goal next friday im telling neil about his surprise

Nicky: noooooo :'(

Allison: ye renee has enough to do without having to face stuff y'all should have blocked

Renee: Andrew is also a goalkeeper

Allison: yeah but he doesn't give a fuck

Renee: That's neither true nor fair

Dan: i want bragging rights over this vctry, end of the question

Matt: are we just gonna ignore the fact that the fbi chose neil's old bday

Matt: even tho they made him a new identity

Allison: wonder how this conversation went

Nicky: are we ignoring the fact that neil is a goddamn CAPRICORN

Allison: "in my left hand is your birthday date. In my right hand is your other birthday" *shuffles behind his back*

Matt: idk about astrology but I checked and he tried to pass for an aries so what does that tell us?

Dan: shut up adfhskdjs

Nicky: im dying

Kevin: [attached picture]

Matt: did u steal neil's ID

Allison: i thought you were in class

Kevin: he sent it to me

Nicky: his phone can take pics??

Dan: RLY crappy 1s but yeah

Nicky: so all those times andrew refused to send me pics of his Eden’s Twilight's outfits so i could coordinate neil's…

Matt: :/

Kevin: he just doesn't like you

Allison: i would have laughed but you two have been fighting the good fight since last year, dressing neil up

Nicky: hey

Renee: Kevin, that was mean

Nicky: but thanx allison, I think so too

Kevin: sorry

Kevin: he's just difficult?

Nicky: yeah :(

Dan: omg u guys rmr when neil was on k ferdinand's show n he looked like a bite-sized snack in that shirt

Kevin: not exactly what I remember from this interview

Dan: u were pretty 2 <3

Kevin: oh my god

Renee: Didn't Neil keep the clothes?

Nicky: i've never seen him wear them again

Nicky: maybe he STUFFED THEM DOWN THE TOILET

Matt: uh okay

Allison: weird emphasis

Kevin: are you still stuck on that

Dan: what

Kevin: it's what happened with the clothes he wore the first time we went to columbia

Nicky: do you know how expensive that plumber was?

Matt: just a thought but maybe that wouldn't have happened if you didn't force him to come with you and drugged him against his will

Allison: don't tell me someone actually peed on them and tried to flush

Nicky: take it up with andrew

Matt: you literally drove the car

Kevin: what happened in columbia stays in columbia

Allison: omg oh my god

Dan: IM SCREAMING

Nicky: what was i supposed to do, get knifed?

Nicky: also ^^^^ yeah.

Nicky: ANYWAY

Nicky: now that Kevin got us proof that the FBI officially made neil a capricorn again,,

Dan: the fbi be like "oh u thought u could escape ur traumatic past? That's nice buddy

Matt: yeah I don't think beating last year's party is gonna be hard

Dan: here's ur bday n trauma back"

Nicky: HAPPY THOUGHTS

Nicky: :(

Nicky: anyway it's the big 21st, so the first thing in order is BOOZE

Kevin: uh nicky

Renee: He's turning 20?

Matt: what???

Kevin: yeah he aged himself up on his fake papers

Matt: oh my god

Dan: lmfao only neil

Nicky: he is baby

Matt: does. Does he know though. Like did he check when they made him the papers.

Kevin: I'm guessing so

Matt: imagine filling a form or smth and you get the day right but not the year

Renee: Wait Kevin, how did you get neil to send you the pic without telling him about the surprise party?

Nicky: DON'T YOU DARE HAVE TOLD HIM ABOUT THE NJBB

Allison: njbb?

Dan: neil josten's bday bash, im guessing

Nicky: Neil Josten's

Nicky: BIRTHDAY BASH

Nicky: yes

Allison: it doesn’t sound right

Allison: like, something’s missing in the name

Matt: alli we play a sport named after what you get when you take the s from sexy

Dan: 10 bux kevin wishes he didn't have such a stick up his butt so he could reply with exy is sexy

Allison: im not taking that

Kevin: i actually don't know why she named it that

Kevin: she never told the press and she didn't write it anywhere so

Nicky: :(

Allison: oh

Dan: sorry :(

Renee: Maybe coach knows?

Matt: maybe each letter has a meaning

Kevin: how?

Allison: endangering xylophones yearly?

Matt: EXceptional daY

Matt: and then, boom, it's about your name

Renee: Matt, I like that idea!

Dan: allison, no

Kevin: I'll have to ask coach, renee

Kevin: anyway it was always going to be her name, she invented it

Nicky: someone bring neil in so he can say something super serious about how kevin is a legendary striker whose name is already associated with exy and make us choke with emotion

Kevin: nicky….

Nicky: look it's working and he's not even there

Allison: it's the josten effect

Dan: changing your entire life's beliefs one extremely tragic remark at a time

Matt:...

Matt: someone change the subject im sad

Nicky: BIRTHDAY BASH

Kevin: oh yeah nicky asked me how i got neil's ID

Allison: and?

Kevin: i told him i signed him up for his own exynews account so he could stop hogging mine for streaming

Kevin: so i needed his name and birthday

Kevin: and then we got into an argument about date formats

Nicky: dd/mm/yy 4ever

Allison: eww

Kevin: so he sent me a pic instead of writing the date

Dan: it's the european propaganda getting to him

Kevin: i guess i really have to get him an account now

Dan: kevin i know you're entirely serious but that's so funny

Nicky: THE REST OF THE WORLD USES IT

Matt: admit it, you can't wait to go back to Germany because you secretly like the metric system

Nicky: yeah dicks sound bigger if you use centimeters

Dan: didn't need 2 know that

Nicky: not that erik needs that :)

Dan: I DON'T WANNA KNOW

Renee: ….

Matt: honestly im glad i don't understand german or i would never live down all the skyping

Dan: renee's like "can't relate" lmfao

Renee: No indeed

Allison: hell yeah that's my girlfriend

Renee: <3

Allison: hey minyard if you're secretly lurking now is the time to leave

Allison: …

Renee: No, he truly muted us earlier

Dan: are we surprised?

Renee: we'll catch him up on what we decide to do later

Renee: Nicky?

Nicky: oh, yeah!!!

Nicky: BIRTHDAY BASH

Matt: here we go again

Dan: mamma mia

[imagine-organization-xiii]

Hey Dearie, i absolutely love your Blog ❤❤ (Id the AskBox is open) I'd like to know how the Guys ~ Minus the Babies ~ would react, when their S/O suprises them in their favorite Lingerie... and maybe whispers some dirty stuff in their ears 😉

SAM IS A QUEEN AND SHE JUST GOT BACK FROM VACATION SO GET READY FOR THE HEADCANONS

Majority is under the cut because of pictures!

BEWARE THE NAUGHTY BITS

Xemnas

Like Xemnas is not about the exposure of skin. What's sexy to him is how extravagant you look. So, The superior may be reading a book or sitting alone in his office when you enter, wearing a sheer black nightdress, the one he likes with the slit up your leg. As you enter his study, you know he's sensed your presence, but doesn't react, not even looking up from his book or paperwork. You creep closer to him, until your standing behind his chair, and place a hand on his shoulder.

"You are playing a dangerous game, pet. One doesn't usually crawl into the lions den holding raw flesh."

His hand rises to you leg and starts to snake its way up, past the slit in your nightdress and gripping your thigh. The superior lets out a deep exhale through his nose.  "And you.. look rather delicious..."

Let’s say work was not getting done this evening.

Xigbar

So, Xigbar is good with just about anything. But his favorite look is one that he can just take in and enjoy while still fucking you. And as soon as he sees one of those little straps, its over.  Half the time, you like to wear the harness under your clothes as a surprise for later, but the sneaky rogue figures it out before you can even get the drop on him.

But when you do, his face turns to a carnivorous grin, like a beast ready to devour you. And I promise you, he most certainly devour you. He wants to see such a pretty looking think like you a hot sweating moaning  breathy mess before he is ready to have you. Expect several orgasms or LOTS of edging before he finally takes you.

Xaldin

Xaldin loves his SO but loves his SO enough that he sees lingerie as something they don't need/ he doesn't deserve, but sometimes special occasions arrive. And when they do, for whatever reasons, delicate and thin fabrics with light colors soften large mans heart.

When he comes through the door and sees you standing there in the moonlight, his heart nearly doubles in size and his eyes go wide. He doesn't know what he’s done to deserve such a treat but know that he is going to treasure you for every second of it. the sex is very very tender and sweet and soft and slow, but he still has you seeing stars.

"I... Wow... My... Little One, You look stunning."

Vexen

Vexen isn't one for Lingerie. It's expensive and not worth the expense. But even a man such as he can enjoy beauty. so sometimes, on the nights that Vexen comes home and sleeps in his bed, you like to wear your favorite nightgown and robe. The scientist will notice immediately and always turn a soft pink. It might not evolve into full out sex like some men, but he certainly will want to be closer to you, enjoying your company, kissing your head, holding you close, and maybe just turning into a night of loving from your favorite beanpole.

"Y-You look nice... You will be rather cold if you sleep in just that alone. You might need to be closer to me tonight. for warmth, of course... You know, it is nights like these that I wish I could be at home with you more often."

Lexaeus

Lexaeus is a little hard to pinpoint in a format like this, but the man's tastes are subject to change based on what kind of person his SO is. He always finds himself drawn to soft pastel and chiffon lingerie but there is always that one piece that he sees and is just kind of moved. It suits your personality and your style and it just seems so so perfect that he loves it all the more.

Zexion

So the kid is young. he’s still new to the sex thing and lingerie on top of that, he’s kind of a casual person. so his favorite lingerie is something comfy that you like to wear around the house anyway. But whenever you two are spending a lazy day together and you’re dressed that, expect his eyes to wander to your thighs constantly, too nervous to really say anything, but still compelled to stare. It’s not until you pick up on his apprehension and decide to get things going and sit in his lap that the fun gets started.

Saix

So... You've given up on Saix and Lingerie years ago. The man doesn't have a favorite because every time you wear something nice, the man fucking destroys it.

But sometimes you like to waste the money and try to do something nice. You’ve come to find that Saix likes lace the most because it takes the least effort to tear and something about the delicate fabric makes him absolutely feral. But when you come in, he might be busy with paperwork of some sort, but as you come through the door, his eyes immediately go to you and you could swear you could see the him flash from man to wolf in the blink of an eye.

His expression totally changes and his eyes go dark. The paperwork is put down gently and he rushes to you, pinning you against the door. "Do you ever learn your lesson, moonflower?"

Axel

Where Saix likes to hunt, Axel likes to play. He's more about enjoying the moment when he's with his S/O. And he’s a romantic, so as much as we reserve florals for Marluxia, I feel like the rose motif is something Axel just finds himself falling for over and over again.

But when you come into the room, Axel is probably just laying on his bed staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, but when he sees you, he just shoots up. He is kinda breathless at first because even if he had seen the look before, it's his absolute favorite and he is one to get flustered.

He doesn’t move other than sitting up completely straight and asking why you're surprising him like this. But as you move closer and closer you can see his eyes just looking you over in amazement until you climb up onto the bed, straddle his lap, and take his face in your hands before whispering some sweet nothings to him softly and kissing him on the lips. All at once his long arms wrap around you and its all over.

"Hey I--- whoa... Babe you look.. What's all this about? I-- mph... What did I do to deserve you...?"

Demyx

Demyx is a soft boy. Honestly Anything gets the boy excited so you don’t need to try too hard. But sometimes you like to give the boy a little surprise, and he is always receptive. One day he’s just getting ready and you come in, in the softest sweetest looking nightgown and his jaw just drops and his eyes go wide. He looks dumbstruck for a moment, and you shy away a little from the staring but the dope can't help himself. Its like time just kinda stops for a moment.

"I... You.. Wow you look really pretty. Can I, Can I kiss you?"

And he steps closer, still cautious and a still little awestruck.  The boy would wrap his arms around your waist and just gently kiss your lips, almost afraid to break you, or ruin anything. His usual rambunctious attitude is just completely replaced with caution. But then he gets an idea and tries with all his might to lift you up bridal and carry you to his bed, but you can feel his little noodle arms shaking as he tries to carry you. You try to tell him to put you down, that its not worth it, but he insists its entirely worth it. And after a minute of strained lifting, the musician plops himself down on the bed and hops down on it next to you, pulling you into a big hug.

"I just.. Im not as strong as some of the big guys but sometimes I just wanna be a cool guy too."You give him a kiss on the lips, pulling him close to you, and as the kiss deepens, the boys hands start to wander and things fall apart from there.

Luxord

Luxord is very particular about what his SO wears when it comes to lingerie.  He just has a very particular taste, and his favorite thing is intricate pieces that just catch your body just right and shows what he likes to see. And one night while Luxord is out playing games with acquaintances, you decide to let him come home and feel like a winner.

He comes through the door and sees you and an arrogant grin just blooms on his face. He knows what you’re up to and he fucking loves it, chuckling to himself . He would just take in the view as you laid there, loving every second of it like a tall drink of water in a hot desert. Eventually, once he’s had enough for the moment, he will place a finger under your chin and move it upwards towards him as you rise and follow his finger.  The man loves the control.

"Oh my... What have you been getting up to while I was out? You must have missed me quite a lot to have you like this.. Well don't worry, pet. I shan't be leaving again tonight. And you wont be sleeping tonight."

Marluxia

Marluxia is a man of presentation, and while he loves his S/O, he prefers her wearing the finer things on most basis. So when you want to make the night special, you gotta go a little more extreme. So when the assassin sees you enter his chambers like this, he cant help but look up. He rises and will slip closer to you almost like a serpent and wrap his arms around you pinning you to the wall in the process.

Before saying a word, the assassins hands are on your waist, following the curve of your waist and his lips are placing gentle but maddening kisses along the place where your neck meets your ear. You gasp under his embrace and he smiles. "This is quite a pleasant surprise, my dear. I'd say.. you look good enough to eat..."

Larxene

You might thinks she only likes the kinky alternative girl looks but She loves all sorts of lingerie. Sometimes seeing her SO in a soft nighty makes her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. And you almost dont expect her to get flustered as you enter your bedroom. At first she looks up and turns a flushed pink, and then she starts to stutter, spewing half thought insults to deflect from her face growing redder and redder. As you approach the bed, she only watches until you sit down next to her and give the girl a soft kiss on the lips.

"Wh-Where'd you get That? You are so stupid. Thinking something some L-Lace could get the better of ME"

[bella-ca]

Bound: A TRR AU

Mireya has always known she was different. She just didn’t realize how much. Upon her 18th birthday she gets information that will forever change her life. The stuff of her nightmares is reality. The things that go bump in the night really do exist. It’s up to her and her family to fight these monsters. Her life will never be the same. What happens when she falls in love with one such being? Will she live up to her legacy or become what she hunts?

A/N: My muse kept telling me this story needs to be told. I love anything related to supernatural/horror beings. I decided to name my MC. The Y/N= your name format just didn’t feel right to me. This is a TRR love story. It is a slow burn. This is unbeta. All mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to choices by Pixelberry. I’m just borrowing them. Same with the pics they are not mine.

Warnings: violence, cursing, murder, revenge, death. Underage drinking. By reading you are acknowledging you are at least 18 years of age.

Word count: 1857

Masterlist

Chapter 2

7 Years Ago

Afternoon turned into evening. You started to get dressed for the party. You put on a pair of black skinny jeans and tight burgundy top that accentuated your cleavage. You left your hair down. You completed your look with the high heeled leather boots and your tight leather jacket. You didn't bother with purses putting a few essentials and your phone in your pocket. You also put the dagger your dad gave you in a special holster your dad had made for you. Hey you could never be too careful. As you were getting ready there was a knock at the door. “Come in.”

“Ugh….so unfair. Your sister whines throwing herself on your bed with a groan. “Let me guess…” you tell her with a smirk. “Dad said no didn't he?” “Yes.” she says with a pout. “It’s so unfair. You got to go out at my age.” She says glaring at you. “Well first off, it was to small parties, not to clubs and second I wasn't boycrazy and third, Alex and Josh were always there with me.” you tell her. “Ugh whatever” she tells you rolling her eyes. “It's Friday night, why don't you go see a movie or something?” you ask her. “Everyone has dates I’m stuck by myself today.” She tells you with a frown. Mom and dad says we are having a family night.” she says using air quotes. You laugh. “Hey it’s your turn. I hung out with them this afternoon.” You tell her. “Mireya!, Alex and Josh are here. You better get a move on!” your dad yells from upstairs. “Kay” you yell back. “Have fun tonight. Have a drink for me.” Your sister tells you with a smirk. “You roll your eyes. “Bye sis, enjoy your night at home.” She frowns throwing a pillow at your. Your run out the door before it can hit you.

“Happy birthday Reya” Alex and Josh tell you giving you a hug. “Thank you.” So you ready or what?” Alex asks eager to leave. “Yeah lets go.” You give your mom and dad a kiss and head out to the car. “So Reya where to?” “Have you guys eaten yet cuz I’m starving.” Josh laughs. “Reya, your always hungry.” “Shut up” you tell him. “Since when have you turned down food?” you ask him with a smirk. “True” he tells you with a grin. You head out to your favorite diner. “So clubbing huh??” You ask the boys while eating another french fry. You already know they like going there to meet girls. It's hard for them to meet and keep girlfriends. A lot of the girls would get jealous of your relationship with Alex and Josh. They did have relationships, but not many serious ones. You felt like a lot of it was your fault and you would try and distance yourself from Alex and Josh. They would always tell you that it wasn't your fault and if girls couldn't handle you in their lives, then they weren’t worth being with. When you were teenagers, you did have feelings for both of them. You did actually kiss them both once during a drunken game of truth or dare, but the romantic feelings weren't there. At least not for you. If they did have feelings for you, they never showed it. You were fine with that. You have had a few relationships throughout the years. You weren't a nun and the boys knew you dated, but they didn't know the full extent. They still thought you were a virgin. You found that funny. When you did lose your virginity, the guy broke your heart. You found out he was in a relationship already and you were the side piece. You confronted him and beat him up. You vowed to never again fall in love. Most of your hookups were handsome guys you met that were just passing through town. You knew you would never see them again. You preferred it that way. Less drama.

“Come on Reya” Like you don't want to meet some guys.” Alex says rolling his eyes. You grin at him. You finish your meals and head out to the club.

You walk into club Kismet and straight up to the bouncer. He smiles letting you in. You walk into the club and straight to the VIP section. You take a seat and pull out your fake id. You order a bottle of your favorite tequila. Josh pours shots for everyone. “To Reya, Happy Birthday here's to you getting laid” He tells you laughing. You choke on your drink. “Shut up Josh.” you tell him smacking your shoulder. “What your an adult now.” He tells you with a smirk. “My love life is none of your business.” You tell him before taking another shot. “Are we really gonna discuss this. I came here to party not talk about Reya’s love life.” Alex says rolling his eyes. You guys have another shot. You look over the balcony to the dancefloor below. Its packed. “Ready to mingle?” Alex asks you. You nod grinning at him. The three of you head for the dance floor. You dance with both of them for the first few songs, then split up as they start dancing with other girls. As soon as they leave your side. You are approached by a guy that was a little too drunk. He starts to dance with you and you let him at first. Then he starts to get a little handsy. “So you walk away leaving him on the dancefloor. He doesn't even blink grabbing at another girl.

You walk back up to the VIP section and take another shot and you can feel eyes on you. You turn around. You see a man with piercing hazel eyes come up to you. He is tall, handsome, well built with black hair neatly combed. You blush. “Would you like to dance?” He asks you. “Umm sure” you tell him a little dazed. You aren't sure if it's the alcohol or his looks that have you flushed. “You head out to the dance floor. As a slow song starts playing. He grabs you close and you feel your breath leave your body as his eyes look you over. “You are a good dancer.” You tell him and he chuckles. “So are you.” he says with a grin. “What's your name? He asks you? Mireya you tell him. “What is yours?” you ask him. “Nicolas.” “Nice to meet you Nicolas.” you tell him with a smile. “I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but today is your birthday, correct?” Nicolas asks. “Yes. I turned 21 today you tell him “ He laughs. “You look a little young to be 21 Mireya.” He tells you. You blush avoiding his eyes. He leans in close and whispers in your ear. “Don't worry your secret is safe with me.” You smile looking into his ever changing eyes. You clear your throat as the song ends. “I would love to get to know you better.” He tells you. Your heart skips a beat. “Okay how about we go sit?” He follows you back to VIP. You talk for awhile as you drink. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and on the way back you feel a shiver go down your spine. You turn around and see a handsome man with dark brown hair and eyes walking up to you. Your heart skips a beat, warmth shooting thru you as you watch him approach. The desire to kiss him almost too much. He walks right up to you. He leans down and tells you. “Be careful, don’t trust him.” “What?” you say confused. “Be careful Mireya, don’t trust him.” he says again and leaves. You stand there stunned. Who was that man and how did he know my name? You look around trying to find him but he is nowhere to be seen. What the hell? You take a few deep breaths. Come on Mireya, get yourself together.

You walk back to VIP and see that Nicolas talking with Alex, Josh, and the 2 women they were dancing with earlier. They are laughing as you approach. “So I see you met Nicolas.” you tell them both. “Yeah, we were just talking about you.” ugh, great. You could only imagine what they said. “Dont worry Mireya, all good stuff.” Nicolas says seeing the look on your face. The girls with Alex and Josh just glared at you. Here we go again. “Forgive my brothers,” you tell them with a smile. Upon hearing the word brother the girls immediately relaxed. “I’m Mireya.” They smiled but did not give their names. “This is Tiffany and Lisa.” Josh says trying to ease the tension in the air. “Nice to meet you.” You say giving them a fake smile. Nicolas clears his throat. “So we were just talking and I was telling them that I could give you a ride home if you wanted.” You look at Nicolas surprised. He was brave to be telling Josh and Alex that. “Actually, we promised dad that we would bring Reya home.” Alex says. Glaring at Nicolas. “Reya?” Nicolas says looking at you. “Its my nickname.” You tell him blushing. He smiles at the boys. “of course.” Nicolas says. “It was a pleasure meeting you Mireya.” he kisses your cheek before he leaves. The boys kiss the girls goodnight and follow you outside.

You had park the car a block away. So you follow the boys down an alleyway as you all stumble into each other. Alex had already sobered up so he could drive and was having a hard time keeping you upright. You giggled holding on to Alex to keep from falling. “So I take it you had a good birthday?” He asks you. “Hell yeah she did.” Josh answers for you. You laugh. It was a lot of fun until you cockblocked me.” You tell him with a smirk. He stops to look at you surprised. “What?” he says anger in his eyes. “You heard me” you tell him. You guys said I should get laid and then you cockblock me.” Alex stops walking to look at you. He takes a deep breath and says. “Reya, your drunk. You don't know what your saying.” He grabs you by the waist and starts walking again. “Whatever” you tell him rolling your eyes. Before Alex could respond you hear Josh behind you throwing up in the alley. “Get it all out now cuz your not puking in my car.” Alex tells Josh. You laugh. A strong smell hits your nose. You have never smelled it before. It was like a dog, copper, and sulfur. Then you hear a noise in the alleyway. “What was that?” you ask. Then you hear a howl. “That can't be good.” you say shivering. You look around and see three pairs of eyes glowing in the dark. “What the hell?” Alex asks. You see what looks like 3 huge wolves standing on hind legs come out of the dark and surround you, growling. Before you can scream. They attack.

Chapter 3

Thank you for reading!! Reblogging and comments are appreciated. It will keep me motivated to write 💜💜

If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list, let me know.

Bound Taglist:

@bobasheebaby @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @hopefulmoonobject @alj4890 @super-secret-fandom-blog @thequeenofcronuts @indiacater @katurrade @furiousherringoperatortoad

[ticknart]

Second Summer: Battle

It was just before noon and the sun was high as four members of Blue Team walked through the forested part of the paintball course. They walked in a diamond formation: Wendy center front, Dipper to her left, Thompson to her right and Grenda behind. Tambry, the fifth member, had been left back at base to guard their flag. As they left, she pulled herself up and into the tree the flag had been tied to.

Dipper thought that it would have been smarter to leave Thompson or Grenda guarding the flag than Tambry. Tambry was small and could hide behind a tree or some brush. Thompson, on the other hand, was a big guy and would be hard to miss when shot at. Grenda was at least six inches shorter than Wendy, but she had broad shoulders and her body rippled with muscle. There was no way either could hide in any setting. Putting a tank in front was a smart move in DD&MoreD, not so much in paintball, though. But Wendy insisted and she appointed herself team captain and Tambry, Thompson, and Grenda didn't argue with her. The only thing Dipper could hope for was that Thompson and Grenda could keep moving silently so he wasn't taken out before they could make their final approach on the Team McAwsome's flag.

Just before the edge of the woods, where the waist high grassy plants started, Wendy held up her hand and stopped. Thompson stopped, dropped to one knee, braced his paintball gun against his shoulder, and scanned the clearing ahead. Grenda scanned the trees around them. Wendy knelt down and waved Dipper over.

"Time for a plan," she said as he knelt down beside her.

Dipper nodded.

"Thompson. Grenda," she hissed, turning to the other members of the team. "Get over here."

Wendy took off the blue and white pine tree cap she wore and ran her fingers through her luxurious auburn hair. Dipper knew that time moved at a constant pace, but he saw her in slow motion and when she turned to him and gave a toothy smile, time froze.

Grenda cleared her throat and touched his shoulder. Time snapped back into place. Thompson settled next to them and asked, "What's the plan?"

Wendy brushed the ground in front of her clear and drew an oval in the dirt. She drew shapes in the oval as she said, "It's been a while since we've played."

Earlier in the summer, Dipper learned that Wendy and her friends had played paintball nearly every week since school started in the fall. They went to the course1, rented guns and gear then spent a few hours blasting away. Sometimes they played three-on-three, rotating the roster each time. Sometimes they all played together against another team. But with summer came parents insisting on jobs, visits from out of town family, or going on family vacations. This was the first time they played this summer and might be the only time.

"I've been thinking about the games we played during school," she said. "Robbie likes to put the flag somewhere where he can keep everything contained. Some place easy to defend. Somewhere that'll force us to go in one at a time. The easiest place to defend is here." She pointed the stick at a square near the top of the oval. "The Shed2."

"What's The Shed?" asked Dipper.

"It's four walls, a door, and a couple of windows," said Thompson. "It's usually a good place to catch your breath and regroup."

"Do you think it's where Robbie would put the flag?" asked Wendy.

"Absolutely," said Thompson. "He's wanted to before, but we always stopped him because it seemed unsportsmanlike."

"Maybe Nate and Lee stopped him again," said Wendy.

"Not with Mabel there," Dipper said.

"That girl loves to win," said Grenda.

Dipper nodded, "She does."

"Okay," said Wendy, placing a leaf in the square, "there's where the flag is. He's gonna want at least one person the--"

Thompson brought his gun to his shoulder and scanned the field in front of them. "False alarm," he said, lowering his gun.

"Lee and Nate," said Wendy to Dipper and Grenda, "like to stick together. Lee's fast, but doesn't really aim before he shoots. Nate's not as fast, but he's a decent shot when he's on the move."

"He's not so great when he's standing still, though," said Thompson.

"Neither are you," said Wendy, playfully punching him in the arm.

"But I make a great mobile shield," he said, grinning.

Wendy grinned back before saying, "So, Nate and Lee will probably be together scouting around for us." She dropped two pebbles into the oval and drew a circular arrow away from them. "Robbie, on the other hand, likes to hide and wait for people to come to him. I bet he'll be waiting in the Shed."

"Probably," said Thompson as Wendy dropped a pebble in the square.

She looked at Dipper and Grenda and asked, "What do you two think Mabel and Candy will do?"

"Mabel's too unpredict--," Dipper said, but was interrupted by Grenda.

"Candy's a crack shot."

Dippers jaw dropped. Before today, he couldn't have imagined Candy holding a gun, let alone being good with one. Of all the people invited to play, she was the only one he thought would say no. She was so shy and seemed too gentle for a game with guns. Even fake guns. He supposed that he didn't know Mabel's friends very well, even though they had come on the tourist trap trip last summer.

"What do you mean she's a crack shot?" asked Wendy.

"I mean that she always hits the target, even if she misses the bullseye," Grenda said.

Thompson and Wendy looked unconvinced.

"Guys," said Grenda, "I'm serious. I've been to the shooting range with her and her parents a few times. When she steps up to the line, the whole place goes quiet. Everyone watches her. She once shot a hole through a quarter at 75 yards. Dead center. I was there. The place shook because everyone cheered so loud. If she wasn't so shy, she would win trap shooting competitions. She could be a modern day Annie Oakley."

Everything Grenda said sounded impressive to Dipper, but he wasn't sure how much of that was true. Shooting traps? How would you shoot a trap? What did they do, set up a bear trap and try to set it off with a bullet? Traps were supposed to shoot at you, not the other way around.

"Assuming that's all true," said Wendy, carefully.

"It is true," Grenda said, looking flushed.

"Okay, then where do you think she'd be?"

"If she has a say, she'd be on the highest point she can get to with the clearest view."

"That's probably on top of The Shed," said Thompson.

Wendy drew a small rectangle overlapping The Shed and dropped a pebble in it. "What about Mabel?" she asked, looking at Dipper.

"There's no way to know," he said. "She's too unpredictable. She hears a plan. She agrees to the plan. She starts following the plan. When she gets bored or frustrated she makes things interesting again by doing whatever she thinks is the most fun."

"She's not--" Grenda started to say before she paused and said, "yeah, that sounds like her."

"The only kind of gun she's ever shot is a squirt gun, though," Dipper said. "So I don't think she'll be a very good shot."

Dipper had at least shot BB guns with scouts. He knew how to aim properly. Of course, shooting BB guns at a scout day camp, having all the time you need to aim before carefully squeezing the trigger, was probably a lot different from shooting a paintball gun on the run. At day camp they taught him to slow his breathing and take his time. He didn't think that advice carried over into real combat.

Dropping a fifth pebble into the oval and drawing squiggly lines around it, Wendy said, "I guess that's something." She frowned at the map on the ground.

"What's the plan, boss?" asked Thompson, again.

"We split up," she said. "Two pairs. We go in opposite directions." She drew two arrows near the base of the oval, one curving to the left and the other to the right. "We stick to the tree line and meet on the other side of the clearing."

"Won't that put us awfully close to the Shed?" asked Grenda.

"Once the Shed's in view, go back into the trees. Try to stay out of sight. Okay?" Everyone nodded and Wendy continued, "Dipper and Grenda, you go that way." She pointed to the right. "Me and Thompson'll go that way. Remember, this is a scout, so keep your eyes and ears open and sharp, but if you get the chance, take 'em out."

Everyone stood.

Thompson brought his paintball gun up to his shoulder, ready for action. Wendy kept hers at her side, but Dipper could tell that she would be ready for action in a fraction of a second. She was like a tiger, calm and cool before pouncing for the kill.

"Good luck," said Wendy, "and give 'em hell."

Dipper watched as the pair headed out. He wondered why he couldn't have been paired with Wendy. Yes, he was inexperienced, but that meant he'd try harder. He'd do whatever she wanted-- no, needed him to do.

While playing paintball, of course.

"Come on," Grenda said, in her rough and husky voice. "We should get moving."

He turned around to follow Grenda, wondering if he had done something wrong. What could he have done to make Wendy choose Thompson over him. Life would be a lot easier if people had thought balloons hanging over their heads3, like in his dad's old comics. If he could, then he'd always understand the whys and then make new choices the next time. Better choices.

"You like her," said Grenda in a singsong voice.

"What?! Who?"

"Wendy."

"Of course, she's, like, one of my best friends."

"No, you LIKE her like her."

Dipper blushed. Was he that obvious?

"You don't need to worry about it," she said. "I think I'm the only one who noticed."

"Yeah, thanks," he said, sighing, "I'm supposed to be over her, you know?"

"Really? Why?"

"Last summer we sat down and had a talk. She told me that she liked me but..." He really didn't want to talk about that. "You know? And I sort of let her think that my crush on her went away."

Grenda rolled her eyes and said, "She never believed you."

"Of course she did. She would have said something."

"After your talk, did you ever watch her from a distance and then turn away because you thought you might have been looking too long?"

He didn't answer.

"Did you ever laugh a little too hard and too long at one of her jokes?"

He refused to answer.

"Did you ever babble away at her because--"

"That's not fair," he said, looking at her. "I babble when I'm nervous. I do it around everyone."

She looked down at him, digging though his eyes and into his soul, and asked, "Did you ever 'accidentally' touch her and let your hand linger before jerking it away?"

Dipper stopped walking and said, "I am such an idiot."

"Well, you are a boy," she said, laughing.

"What have I done? What's going to happen?"

Grenda put her giant, but gentle, hand on his shoulder and sighed. "You didn't do anything. Nothings going to change. If she didn't like you, she'd just pretend you didn't exist. You wouldn't be out here playing paintball."

"I guess."

"Well, I know," she said.

"Thanks."

"What do you like about her? You don't like her just because she's pretty, right?"

He thought for a bit and said, "I mean, she's beautiful and that's the first thing I knew about her, but it doesn't matter anymore, you know?"

Grenda's eyes were big and wet as she looked at him.

"Wendy has this way of looking at the world. She sees it all. She knows how serious things can be, but she still finds things that are funny or fun. She can climb a pine tree using only her belt and use the top of the tree to catapult herself to another. If something goes wrong, she's the first to face it and the last to run because she makes sure everyone else is safe first. She makes a platform on a roof become the most special place in the world. She looks at me and doesn't see just some noodly armed little kid. She never treated me like a little kid. She sees me," he said, tapping his chest.

Grenda, sniffling, wrapped him in her huge, comforting arms and said, "It's like a tragic love story. The only thing keeping you apart is the love you have for each other4."

"If you say so," he said into her shoulder.

She let him go and they walked along together in silence. Dipper looked around him, but he wasn't paying attention. He thought about Wendy and himself. Was their friendship any different now that it was before he knew that she knew? Him knowing that she knew that he still had a crush on her shouldn't change anything with her, if he didn't act weirder than usual, because she didn't know that he knew that she knew. What would she do, though, if she knew that he knew that she knew? He felt like screaming. There was no answer unless he talked to her and if he talked to her not only would she know he knows, but he'd also confirm his crush to her. There was no way he wouldn't come out of this feeling like he was four years old again.

To move his brain away from the spiral into the dark abyss he asked, "How are things with that, uh, prince?"

"He's a prince in my heart, but in reality he's only a baron."

"Okay, baron then. Are you still together?"

"We sure are. He wouldn't know what to do without me and if any girl hits on him, he shows them my picture and they back off." She flexed her muscles.

"Isn't the long distance thing hard?"

"Sure, sometimes, but we Flusprech5 almost every night. He flew me and my family over to Austria for Christmas and then he came to visit us here at Easter. Plus," she said with a mischievous grin, "he knows I'm a playa." She waggled her eyebrows at him and when his face turned bright red she laughed. "Dipper, you're too easy."

"And it hasn't helped my love life at all," he said.

She laughed harder.

Suddenly, paintballs flew out of the grass at them. One hit Dipper in the arm -- It hurt! -- but bounced off without breaking. The rest missed.

Mabel popped up from below the grass line, shouted "DIE MUPPET SCUM!" and fired wildly again.

Dipper and Grenda had their guns up and fired back. Everyone missed. BB guns hadn't prepared Dipper to fire a paintball gun. Not at all.

At the pause in gunfire, Mabel said, "Well, good-bye." and took off running. Grenda and Dipper glanced at each other then chased after her. Grenda, with her longer legs and the fact that she actually exercised, unlike Dipper, pulled ahead of of him and gained on Mabel. As she brought her gun up to fire, Grenda fell, disappearing below the weeds.

"Are you okay," Dipper said, as he approached.

"Gopher hole," she said. "I'm fine. Keep going and get her. I'll catch up."

He didn't answer as he sped by her.

"You’ll never take me alive, copper!" he heard Mabel cry out. Then she laughed: a horrible, witchy cackle.

He was going to get her.

In front of them, he could see The Shed. He had to get to her before she got inside. He pushed himself harder as they approached the little building. He raised his gun. His finger rested on the trigger, ready to squeeze. She was his.

Six paintballs exploded at Dippers feet.

He skidded to a stop and dropped down to try and hide in the grass. Mabel ran into The Shed. He wanted to let out an angry shout, but that would only give her reason to start teasing him so he made a mistake. With his gun raised, he scanned the area in front of the little building. The barrel of a gun hung out the window near the doorway. He could see it, but was pretty sure that the person holding the gun couldn't see him. Was it Mabel, or was someone in there with her?

The Shed was exactly as Thompson had described it: four walls, a door, and a couple of windows. He didn't talk about how it was covered in all colors of paint, though. Briefly, Dipper wondered if he could shoot paint balls at a canvass and sell it as art. If he could, it would be a good way to make lots of money.

"That was just a warning shot," Candy called down from the roof. He saw the bright orange tip of her paint ball gun hanging over the edge and the oversized goggles covering her eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, Dipper," she said.

"Why?" he called back up to her.

"I thought you could join us." She got up on her knees, raised the goggles up to her forehead, and re-aimed her gun at him. "Join the winning side and be with me." That last word hung in the air before she added, "And your sister and the others."

"Shut up and shoot him already!" Robbie hollered. He was the one in the window. "We don't need him on our team!"

Candy ignored him and said, "You have a choice, Dipper. What will it be?"

"I won't betray my team!" he called back and shot at her.

He heard a clunk as she dropped back onto the roof.

"That was your last mistake!" She fired.

Time slowed as he dropped to his belly. Time slowed without Wendy being near. He liked slow time better when Wendy was around. If only because he wasn't being shot at.

A large shape charged between him and the incoming paintballs.

"Grenda! Nooooo!" Candy shouted. "What have I done!?"

Candy was back on her knees. Dipper rose back onto his knees. He aimed, pulled the trigger several times, and fired at her. Three blue splatters appeared on her chest plate. She dropped her gun onto the roof.

"Grenda?" he said, rolling her onto her back. "Why did you do that?"

She was covered in a dozen red splatters. How had Candy hit her so many times so quickly?

"I had to," she said. "You need to be with your lady love."

"What?"

"Go," she said, pushing him away from her, "run to your lady love. Be with her. Protect each other."

Dipper stood and started to run, in a wide arc, around The Shed.

"And don't be angry with me," Grenda called out to him, "because I'm going to tell Candy everything you told me once she's off the roof."

He briefly turned around and fired at the now sitting Grenda. He was too frustrated to hit anywhere near her, but he did add some paint to The Shed. It needed a little more blue on that side.

As he approached the tree line, he slowed and whipped his whole body around, gun stock in his shoulder. He wanted to make sure he could get a few shots off if Mabel or Robbie had followed. He didn't see anyone, but continued to walk backward.

After he was a few yards into the trees, he relaxed a little. He had to keep going. Now that Grenda was taken out, he needed to find Thompson and Wendy. If he couldn't find them, he'd head back to the blue flag and wait with Tambry for the eminent attack.

A short walk later, he saw Wendy coming toward him. Her back faced the tree line.

"Wendy," he called to her.

She spun around and fired several shots before she recognized him. Fortunately, he had just walked behind a tree or he would have been covered in blue paint.

He peeked out from behind the tree and caught her eye.

"Dipper," she said, running his direction. "I'm so sorry. I'm a little jumpy."

"What happened?" he asked. "Where's Thompson?"

"Thompson's gone, man. Lee got him in the back. Lee was really angry, too. I guess he didn't like seeing Nate get brought down in a hail of paint balls. I took out Lee after that. Is Grenda with you?"

"No," he said, removing his hat and placing it over his heart, "she took a shot for me. Came out of nowhere and got splattered. It was a good death, for a warrior."

Wendy pulled her cap off and placed it over her heart and said, "Thompson, too. May they reap all the rewards among the honored dead in Valhalla6."

"I don't know," said Dipper settling his hat back on his head, "all the Pitt Cola lights were flashing on the machine. It might be out of drinks."

"What did you learn on your scout?"

He stood at attention and said, "Mabel ambushed us and we chased her to The Shed. Candy sniped at me from the roof, but after she accidentally shot Grenda, I got her."

"Robbie?" she asked, pacing in front of him.

"He was in there with Mabel. He complained about how Candy was playing the game."

"So, they're both waiting for us to attack."

"Robbie's probably in there, but I don't know about Mabel. She could be looking for us, or she could be headed for our flag."

"Is there anyway we can tell if she's with Robbie?"

"I have an idea that might work, but we'll have to get close."

"Good. If she's going for the flag, Tambry will take her down. Let's go."

On this side of the clearing The Shed could be seen easily. They were far enough that they couldn't be hit if shot at through the window, but close enough that someone standing inside the gloomy building could clearly see Wendy and Dipper. They were also close enough that they would be heard if they shouted.

Dipper cupped his hands around his mouth and cried out, "Mabel! I spoke with Waddles earlier today! He said he didn't love you anymore! He wants to live with Abuelita because she has better and more sparkly make-up!"

A body tried to dive out the window, but got snagged, either on her sweater or by Robbie. It didn't matter, though, she wasn't going any farther.

"You take that back!" yelled Mabel, still struggling to get out. "Waddles does to love me! He'd never leave me just because I have less make-up!"

"Looks like she's in there," said Wendy.

"Sure does," said Dipper. "What's the plan?"

"You run to the left side," she said, pointing, "and I'll go right. Keep out of sight and close to the wall. We'll meet at the door."

"Okay."

"Go," said Wendy and the both started running.

Mabel wasn't hanging out the window anymore, but as he approached The Shed he heard bangs and thumps.

"Stop struggling," he heard Robbie say.

"I gotta get out of here and get that monkey nugget eating brother of mine."

"I can get you free if you just. Stop! STRUGGLING!"

Dipper slid around the corner and crept under the window on his side of the building. There were more thumps and bangs. One of the guns went off.

"YOU ALMOST HIT ME!"

"YOU KICKED THE GUN!"

"IT'S YOUR GUN!"

Dipper approached the next corner and eased himself around it. He saw Wendy slide around hers. They both moved silently until they stood next to the doorway.

Wendy grinned at him from across the way and whispered, "You didn't see Lefors in there did you?"

It was from the movie they'd watched together last night. One of the rare ones that was so good it was good.

"Look, kid," said Robbie, "why don't you take a look out the window, see if they're still there and I'll get you free."

"Lefors?" asked Dipper. "No, why?"

"For a moment there," she said, "I thought we were in trouble."

She raised three fingers and ticked them down. Three... Two... One...

"ROBBIE, THEY'RE NOT THERE. THEY'RE NOT THERE, ROBBIE!"

On no fingers, they rose, turned toward the entrance, and started firing as they stepped through the doorway together.

Most Excellent Scandinavian Paintball Experience is the paintball course just outside of Gravity Falls. It was founded by an extended family of immigrant from Mexico who claimed that they wanted to "smash the stereotype" by opening something other than a food truck that sells Americanized Mexican food.

In a statement, overheard at Gravity Falls High School, one of the children from the family said, "Truth is that my parents and aunts and uncles suck ass at cooking anything that doesn't come in a box with a packet of sauce." ↩︎

The Shed is actually named Abu Ghraib, but many patrons of Most Excellent Scandinavian Paintball Experience find the name insensitive and refuse to use it. The owners of Most Excellent Scandinavian Paintball Experience refuse to take the name off of the official map. Civilian veterans' support groups occasionally picket. ↩︎

While not strictly people, the mumarian lemurs, discovered by Stanford and Stanley Pines in the Aleutian Islands on their second trip of exploration and named after the lost continent of Mu, do project their thoughts in balloon-like bubbles above their heads. These projections are often simple, static images expressing desires or emotions. Occasionally, there is motion in these images.

At this time, no hypothesis has been formed for why some images depict motion. Mating had just begun at the time of the Pines's arrival. After only 36 hours on the island, even Stanley Pines became too uncomfortable to observe any longer. ↩︎

"The only thing keeping them apart is the love they have for each other" is the tagline for an after school special, titled "Hungry for Love" and produced in the mid 1970s, that still runs on Gravity Falls's local access channel once a month. The special warns of the dangers of illegal drug use by drawing a connection from the use of illegal drugs to cannibalism. In the special, the lead characters fall in love, but individually decide that they must keep themselves away from the other because of the fear that the extreme need to devour human flesh would be stronger than their love. The special ends with the two having quit drugs and sitting in class staring hungrily at each other.

"Hungry for Love" is considered to be one of the most successful of the after school specials because when crime statistics were reviewed six weeks after it aired there were no reports of drug related cannibalism. ↩︎

Flusprech is an Austrian video chat application. The defining feature of this app is the algorithm that detects small talk and immediately drops the chat. People from most nations who have used Flusprech have a difficult time adjusting to this feature. The majority of the German population have strongly embraced the app, praising effectiveness of the algorithm, even though it reinforces a strongly believed German stereotype. ↩︎

Valhalla: Snack, Bar, and Grill is the snack bar at Most Excellent Scandinavian Paintball Experience. On weekends it serves a wide variety of best authentic Scandinavian sausages Minnesota produces, with mashed potatoes, which come from flakes in a box. On non-holiday weekdays the selection is limited to leftover cold sausages or sandwiches made on the premises. Few who eat the sandwiches have returned to play paintball again. ↩︎

[milk-cartonn-blog]

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All you need to know about Acidity!

Are you burning up from inside and commonly attribute it to jealousy? Well, for starters, that could be the acidity speaking.

Acidity is one of the most common problems seen in everyone, including the clients of Truweight. While it isn’t a major condition like diabetes or heart disease but the discomfort it causes is equivalent or even more. There can be different symptoms of acidity as well as its causes. For different cases, the reasons or causes differ, and therefore, the dietary approach has to be customized according to their causes.

Content Summary

Symptoms of Acidity

Common Acidity-related Food Myths

Causes of Acidity

Cure Acidity Permanently

Home Remedies for Acidity

Do you suffer from acidity and are brushing it under the carpet? Consult a Truweight Nutrition Coach for FREE and understand the underlying causes and symptoms of acidity to prevent acidity from crippling your life. 

Take the case of a 51-year-old Truweight client. She achieved her weight loss goals, was happy with the program but routinely suffered from acidity attacks. She was worried sick that the attack might repeat.

Upon careful consideration, we found that her major acidity triggers were acidic/ sour foods including buttermilk and raw vegetables and vegetable juice. Her diet plan was changed to suit her needs.

Symptoms of Acidity

Although heartburn or a burning sensation in the chest are the common symptoms of acidity, there can be other symptoms too.  Below is the list of those symptoms. Make a note of it so that you won’t be late identifying the acidity attack. 

Indigestion

Constipation

Restlessness

Nausea

Burping

Sour taste

Common Acidity-related Food Myths 

Is cold milk good for acidity?

Having an attack? People will rush to you with a whole world of solutions.

The most common and popular one being the cold milk! We explore 2 such foods which are supposed to cure acidity permanently whether they really work!

a] Is cold milk good for acidity?

Cold milk only provides temporary relief from heartburn or acid reflux. If you happen to drink cold milk on a full stomach, then chances of it releasing acid increases. Instead, go for a glass of water!

b] Which fruit juice is good for acidity?

Any non-citrus fruit juices can provide relief. Which means vegetable juices like carrot juice, aloe vera juice. apple juice and green leafy juice are fine. Citrus fruits can increase acid secretion.

Dietitians record a detailed diet and lifestyle history to know what suits the clients and which foods can trigger unwanted symptoms.

Most often, information on food sensitivities are either not known or remains undisclosed at the time of diet history. It is best, to be honest about it to your dietitian and bare your heart out!

Get FREE Weightloss Consultation Today!

Causes of Acidity

What are the reasons for acidity?

1. Long gaps between meals

Irregular meal timings, long and odd working hours are some of the common reasons. Most people working the night shift have acidity and other gastric problems.

2. Sensitivity to sour foods

Many people cannot tolerate sour foods, this can aggravate their acidity. For some, acidity can be aggravated even with mild acidic food.  

Usually, acid-containing food like Trujuice, Amla drink, lemon water, citrus fruits are not tolerated on empty stomach. You can try to eat them at different timing by combining with a neutral food.

3. Consuming too much coffee or tea

This again is a common cause. When taken on an empty stomach, tea or coffee could trigger acidity.

4. High fibre foods may cause acidity

Many women face acidity problems after starting on high fibre foods like brown rice, vegetable juice, raw salads, sprouts etc.

In such cases, they can gradually proceed from white rice to semi-polished rice. Boiled or steamed vegetables and sprouts are rather better than raw.

They can consume Trufiber with small quantity until they are comfortable to increase further.

5. Gut bacteria imbalance

Imbalance in the gut bacteria can also cause acidity. This can be tackled by having probiotic supplements and foods with a natural probiotic like buttermilk.

6. Spicy food

Most people with acidity complaint cannot tolerate spicy food as spices increase acid secretions in the stomach.

7. Low acid level

While acidity always brings out the image of excess acid secretion; bloating and indigestion also falls under this category.

For many people, low stomach acid production can hinder digestion and cause bloating. In such cases, acidity and bloating can be managed by dietary modification. Adding a few acidic foods can help.

8. Lack of sleep

Sleep deprivation is found to be associated with an increased GERD condition. GERD is Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease. The sleep deprivation causes fatigue that can inhibit stomach functions. Also, lack of sleep and stress can be promoting acid formation in the stomach. [1]

9. Too much stress

There isn’t a direct connection found that can show how stress results in acidity in the stomach, however, there are many studies that show that stress can be a crucial factor in producing GERD symptoms. There are studies that show people with work-related stress are significantly more at risk for GERD symptoms. [2]

10. Other food sensitivities

Food sensitivities like alcohol, gluten, dairy etc can also cause acidity.

11. Medications

Antibiotics, steroids, anti-depressants etc can lead to low acid levels.

Bottom-line – Understand the underlying cause of acidity and the related symptoms. The first and foremost thing would be to eliminate the cause rather than giving our own remedies.

What is hyperacidity?

Hyperacidity is a medical condition wherein the stomach is known to secrete an abnormal level of acid. Hurry, worry, and spicy curry are the reasons for hyperacidity. How to know if you have hyperacidity? Well, you will have symptoms like sudden stomach pain, vomiting, loss of appetite, flatulence, and heartburn. 

Cure Acidity Permanently

How to cure acidity permanently?

You can say goodbye to acidity forever by tweaking your lifestyle. Here are 4 simple ways you can do that.

1. Eating and lifestyle

Acidity can be conquered by simply tweaking your diet.

For starters, always prefer foods that are low in fat but high in protein! So when given an option to consume grilled chicken sandwich or paneer sandwich or pizza; go for the protein sandwich.

Eating small frequent meals is also a trick so that you give something to your stomach acid to keep working on.

And importantly remember ‘Hara Hachi Bu’ which means don’t stuff yourself till you feel full.

2. Know your triggers

Does chocolate bring out the acidity attack or is it that can of cola? DO you feel your throat burning after that evening cup of coffee?

Then try eliminating these foods from your diet and notice if it makes a difference!

3. Sleep makes the difference

To counter acidity, you need to get 8 hours of sleep. Sure! But according to WebMD, these sleeping positions can help you counter the flush of stomach acid into your food pipe.

Trick 1: Place few logs of wood under the head of the bed. This will help keep the contents of the stomach to travel up and prevent heartburn. More pillows under your head don’t help so much.

Trick 2: Give a gap of 2-3 hours after dinner

4. Adopting a Healthy Lifestyle

Acidity is not a serious condition, you can overcome it if you follow some healthy lifestyle tips. We have a detailed video which enlists some healthy lifestyle tips to follow.

Apart from these healthy lifestyle tips, you can remember these points too:

Don’t wear tight belts or pants as it can put pressure on your belly. It could make the stomach acid travel upwards into the food pipe to cause heartburn. 

If you are obese or overweight, then it is just like like wearing a tight belt! Lose some weight now. Here is a good start for you, a free consultation from a Truweight nutritionist.

Stop smoking if you do! Smoking increases the secretion of stomach acid and this one can’t be managed simply by dietary changes.

Home Remedies for Acidity 

Some Acidity home remedies work like magic!

Although doctors may recommend an antacid whenever you are down with a bad bout of acidity, some home remedies can be the first step to cure acidity permanently. We list them down and how to eat them for you.

1. Banana

Ripe bananas have potassium which can reduce the production of stomach acid. Overripe ones have even more! So when everything seems to be burning up, douse the flames with a ripe banana

2. Tulsi

Chewing on 5-6 tulsi leaves can help abate the acid waves in the body. Why tulsi? Because it helps produce mucous, the slimy protective layer in the food pipe which makes it immune to the acid attack.

3. Aniseed or saunf

The volatile oils in these fragrant seeds does the trick. Chew a few and find relief. Or add a teaspoon in a glass of hot water, strain and drink the water.  

4. Jeera, clove and elaichi

This is for indigestion related acidity. All these masalas help stimulate the saliva and jack up the digestion process.

5. Mint leaves

Just as mint is associated with a cooling effect, it does exactly the same to your stomach too. Chew a few leaves or boil them in water to have their essence.

6. Amla

According to Ayurveda, amla’s vitamin C is a kappha and pitta pacifier! A teaspoon of amla powder consumed twice a day can do the trick.

Next Read:

5 Healthy Lifestyle Tips to Start Your Day With

Healthy Eating Habits to Lose Weight

8 Amazing Weight Loss Home Remedies

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[allofbeercom]

Sticky fingers: The rise of the bee thieves | Brett Murphy

The Long Read: Bees have become a billion-dollar business. But who would try to steal them?

The bees crawled up the thiefs arms while he dragged their hive over a patch of grass and through a slit in the wire fence he had clipped minutes earlier. In the pitch dark, his face, which was not covered with a protective veil, hovered inches from the low hum of some 30,000 bees.

The thief squatted low and heaved the 30kg hive, about the size of a large office printer, up and on to the bed of his white GMC truck. He had been planning his crime for days. He knew bees how to work them, how to move them, and most importantly, how to turn them into cash.

He ducked back through the fence to drag out a second box, Johnson Apiaries branded over the white paint. Then he went back for another. And another.

The Diablo Grande foothills edge the western side of Californias vast Central Valley. During the day you can see rolling pastures and an endless quilt of farmland. But at night, it is so dark that you are lucky to see your hand in front of your face. The thief thought there was almost no chance that a motorist would pass by, let alone one who would notice him.

Jerry Phillips, a night manager for the areas water provider, spends his nights zooming between pump stations in the foothills. He knows every farmer and cowboy on the hills eight-mile stretch, including a local beekeeper named Orin Johnson. Johnson, who had been hit by bee thieves before, liked to alert potential witnesses. If you see anybody in there in the middle of the night, he had told Phillips, it aint me.

Sure enough, Phillips saw someone on his way down the parkway that night. He quickly phoned the nearby golf resort, which has its own roving security detail on the hill.

After the thief loaded the ninth hive, he sat behind the wheel, with the drivers-side door open. The truck was far from full, and there were almost 100 more boxes behind the fence for him to choose from. That meant a lot of money. The exact value of a hive is not standard it depends what you do with them but nine hives can bring in about $5,000 in just one year. And they are worth considerably more in the hands of a capable beekeeper who can maintain them season after season.

Suddenly, a wall of white light hit the thief from behind. He froze.

A security guard stood next to his patrol cars spotlight, keeping his distance. The guard, whose name was Dre Castano, inched forward, wary of being ambushed. He thought there was no way just one guy had got all of those big boxes into the truck on his own.

The thief climbed out of the car and turned into the light. He stood there alone, his eyes glazed over and sullen. Maybe a drunk driver, Castano thought. He asked for the mans ID.

Pedro Villafan, 5ft 2in tall, and 46 years old. He lived 20 minutes south, in Newman, another little town at the base of the foothills. He looked flushed, half-asleep. But he kept calm and answered Castanos questions. Yes, those were bees. No, they were not his. No, he did not work for Orin Johnson. Yes, he was stealing them.

Castano, surprised by Villafans immediate confession, put him in ziptie handcuffs and walked him to the backseat of his patrol car. Less than 45 minutes later, at about 3.40am, Johnson pulled up to the scene, now lit red and blue. A sheriffs deputy had just arrived, as well. He asked Johnson to identify the bees and sign an affidavit committing to press charges.

The suspect wants to talk to you, the deputy said to Johnson, motioning to his cruiser. Do you want to talk to him?

Johnson walked over and poked his head through the window.

I made a huge mistake, Villafan started.

Of course you did, Johnson interrupted, trying his best to remain composed.

I shouldnt have done this, the thief said. All my bees died.

These are strange times for the American beekeeper. In California, the centre of the industry, members of this tight-knit community find themselves enjoying an economic boom while trying to cope with environmental turmoil. And now theyre dealing with a new kind of criminal: the bee rustler. Every year, at the height of pollination season in the spring, dozens of nighttime thieves nobody knows exactly how many break into bee yards all over California to steal hives.

Farmers depend on bees, but they do not keep their own it is too costly, too time-consuming and too painful. So, they lease their pollinators from the commercial beekeeping industry, a fast-growing, national trade that underpins American agriculture.

About a third of the countrys beekeeping operations, known as apiaries, are in California, more than the next four states combined. It is a $1.8bn trade nationwide, driven by roughly 1,500 apiaries, which own 95% of the countrys bees. (About 60,000 hobbyists keep the other 5%.)

It was only recently that beekeeping became big business. For most of the 20th century, American beekeepers were primarily honey manufacturers. In order to manufacture good honey, they sought out open space where their bees could forage. Johnsons father knocked on farmers doors all over Stanislaus County for decades, often with his son in tow, looking for land away from humans and other bees. His proposition: my bees pollinate your crops, your crops feed my bees. They squared the deal with a handshake and a case of honey.

So it went for decades. But little by little, high-value crops such as pistachios, walnuts and mandarin oranges began to take up larger swaths of land all over Central Valley. The beekeepers realised that there was money to be made in pollination growers needed bees and were willing to pay rental fees, as if investing in airborne fertiliser. Once crops bloom, bees scatter skyward in a mushroom-cloud formation before darting for nectar in the open buds; grocery shopping, as one beekeeper described it. As they fly around, each bee grabs pollen from one tree and sheds it at another, exponentially boosting the number of leaves, flowers and nuts.

Brent Woodworth tends to his bees. Photograph: Brett Murphy

From the 1980s on, commercial keepers supplemented their honey business by renting out their bees at $25 per hive for a single, month-long bloom. A large-scale beekeeping operation would have thousands of hives (in addition to producing honey in the autumn), bringing in money from crop pollination: cherries, watermelons and everything in between. Small outfits such as Johnson Apiaries did not have to worry much about uncertain honey sales any more. There was more than enough opportunity to make up their revenue in the spring.

Commercial beekeeping was honest, sustainable and relatively free of competition, but not exactly a business others raced to join.

Then, in the early 2000s, two things shook up the industry. First, the world discovered almonds. Thanks to global demand, particularly from Asia, the nut has taken over Central Valley, nearly doubling its hectarage to 370,000 since 2005. California produces more than 80% of the worlds almond supply today. The boom brought with it an unprecedented demand for pollination. With bees, an almond tree produces 70% more nuts than without. Bees, one almond grower told me, are as important as water.

Second, the bees started to die. During the 2006 winter, beekeepers reported losing anything from 30% to 90% of their hives to disease, an unprecedented amount compared with previous decades, in which losses hovered around 10 or 15%. (The average death toll has since levelled to just under 30% each year.) Even Johnson, a second-generation keeper with honey in the blood, finds boxes and boxes of dead colonies every winter,and has to scrape out the crusted nectar and tiny corpses.

What became known as colony collapse disorder a lethal combination of disease, drought, land loss and pesticide use brought the industry to its knees, forcing hundreds of keepers, unable to maintain their hives through the cold winter, out of business.

But those who weathered the storm have benefited from simple economics: the national supply of bees fell, while demand for pollination has since quadrupled alongside almond growth. This year, almond farmers paid $180 to rent a single hive. And every half-hectare requires two hives.

The surge in bee rental prices in the valleyover the last decade has brought with it an unsettling rise in thefts. In 2015, poachers stole more than 1,700 hives and those are just the thefts that were reported. Last year was the first time anyone had actually counted, but beekeepers and law enforcement both say that the crime is becoming increasingly common. For small beekeepers such as Johnson, a few dozen hives going missing just before spring can bring ruin. Worst of all, everyone knows that the heists are inside jobs.

New keepers enter the industry hoping to cash in on the pollination boom and it is they who often end up becoming the chief suspects in bee robberies. They sign contracts in the autumn, lose their hives to disease in the winter, then steal to make back the difference in the spring. People are trying to meet their obligations at our expense, one recent victim told his local paper, after thieves made off with $100,000 worth of hives. Theres no doubt in my mind it was another beekeeper.

The seasoned, generational, conference-attending beekeepers trust one another. They drink beer and eat donuts together. They loan each other hives and equipment. They even share trade secrets, such as recipes for artificial pollen supplements. They were here long before the almond boom, and their sons beekeeping is a predominantly male industry will carry on their apiaries long after.But the Central Valleys beekeeping fraternity believes that a growing number of opportunists are now entering the business.

They get desperate, said Dion Ashurst, who is the president of the state beekeepers association. And they go out and do stupid stuff. A fourth-generation beekeeper and repeat victim, Ashurst called them fly-by-night criminals who may understand the ins and outs of beekeeping, but are not of the community. Another keeper and recent victim called them the industrys misfits and neer-do-wells.

Now thousands of hives are vanishing, taken with alarming precision and coordination at the very time their owners need them most.Every winter, more and more legitimate keepers, struggling to keep their bees alive, have woken to find their yards emptied and their livelihoods in sudden and serious jeopardy.

That Villafan was even caught is remarkable. Thieves in the Central Valley rarely end up in handcuffs, let alone face prosecution. Witnesses do not drive by often. At 42,000 square miles, the area is vast and isolated, yet still connected by freeway arteries helpful to thieves looking to make a fast getaway. With the right equipment, know-how, and a buyer already lined up, stealing hives is easy. A truck full of bees boosted at midnight in Stanislaus can be unloaded in a Kern County orchard, 200 miles away, by the morning.

The state beekeepers association offers a reward for anyone who helps catch a thief. The security guard who accosted Villafan in January 2015 got $1,000, although the sum can be as high as $10,000. The association likes to address the issue in its monthly board meetings. Minutes from one session last year read: An attempted hive theft in San Luis Obispo, but the thief dropped the hive and got stung a lot, leaving the hive where he dropped it. Law enforcement is after this thief!

Detective Rowdy Jay Freeman a backyard beekeeper himself drives out to meetings, conferences, bars and bee yards to meet the keepers. Hunting down bee thieves is a frustrating job, given the dearth of evidence. Where dozens or even hundreds of humming boxes sit one day, there are nothing but tyre tracks in mud the next, said Freeman. There are no witnesses out there in the country. In three years investigating rural crime, Freeman had not caught a single bee thief.

But that changed this year when he got a tip two counties south. Jacob Spath, a young beekeeper short on his contracts after a tough winter, had backed a flatbed truck into a bee yard and made off with 60 hives. Two days later, Spath was negotiating prices with a broker, when a friend of the victim spotted the boxes, recognised the name, and called the police. Freeman arrested him that week.

Now the district attorney is looking to make an example of Spath by charging him with grand animal theft, a felony that carries a much higher possible sentence than ordinary grand theft. Spath pleaded guilty in April and could serve three years in prison possibly more, depending on the judges valuation of the bees. The specific penal code only mentions large animals, including horses, goats, cows, mules, sheep, hogs and boars. This will be the first time in the history of California that someone is charged with grand animal theft for stealing bees.

In 2015, rustlers stole more than 1,700 hives and those are just the thefts that were reported. Photograph: Brett Murphy

Most thieves share Spaths modus operandi: steal a truckload of hives, drive them a few counties away, chisel the label off (or gut the frames completely and burn the box), then rent them out to almond farmers or brokers. Bee brokers typically help connect large, out-of-state keepers with farmers in the Valley. They tend tobuy wholesale, and ask few questions about the bees origins.

Half the industry is built on handshakes with the farmers, one beekeeper told me, millions of dollars every day without a single paper signed. Beekeepers try to look out for themselves and each other. A select few hire private security guardsor install expensive GPS chips in every hive. Others hide cameras in their yards or make nightly rounds in their trucks. Most simply brand every single piece of equipment with their name, number and a unique registration code in the hope that a friend may recognise their name if boxes go missing.

But none of that does much good after they have been taken and gutted. And the law only goes so far.Beekeepers are often forced to do their own sleuthing.Last year, Joe Romance, of Kern County, went to move 128 hives out of one of his bee yards,only to find them missing. There was talk around town about a beekeeper holding meetings in a coffee shop, selling half-price hives to almond growers. Romance, posing as a farmer, went to the mans house and found something like an automobile chop shop inside a warehouse. Three men were cracking open hundreds of boxes, removing the frames inside and assembling new hives.

Another beekeeper, Brent Woodworth, rented a small Cessna aircraft and flew it three hours in search of his $30,000-worth of stolen hives, his eyes trained on the tiny square specks below, looking for his specific bright yellow lids. It takes a thiefs constitution, Woodworth told me last winter while we ate lunch in his truck and gazed out on his bee yard, which was home to about 3,700 roaring hives. Some ballsy people, Ill tell you. He grabbed a bee off the radio and gave it a flick. Stealing from somebody is just about as bad as it gets. I think its just the worst thing you can do to a man.

Orin Johnson is 68, with an impressive belly and a mess of white hair. In 1969, he came home from Vietnam with two Purple Hearts, a bum eye and a blown eardrum. He went to night school on the GI Bill, participated in the free love, Woodstock era, married that pretty girl Patti from his apartment building, and went back to work at the telephone company Pacific Bell for almost two decades as a dial-up technician before taking over his fathers hives.

He thrived for years after returning to the bee life, maintaining the old accounts and finding plenty of his own. With some 500 hives and no employees, his operation is relatively small, but profitable. He stuck it out through a national tracheal mite epidemic in the 1980s; through a flood of Chinese honey that crippled domestic sales in the 1990s; and, so far, through the bee plague of the 2000s. Its a tough road to hoe, he told me once, no doubt about it.

More than a year after he caught the thief stealing his bees in Diablo Grande at 4am, Johnson and I left the wood furnace in his warehouse where tools line the walls, sawdust fills the air, and a keg of beer waits in a fridge draped in mardis gras beads and old photographs and headed into the foothills for a routine spot check. When we got there, sunlight smacked the clearing where his hives stood in the grass, each airborne bee a dark freckle on the sky. We put on veils and walked through the boxes.

Johnson in the workshop where he makes and mends his hives. Photograph: Brett Murphy

Johnson gave each hive a gentle lift with his bare hands. His hands are baseball mitts, swollen and dirt-stained, skin cracked at the knuckles and nails. (On a busy day, he can get stung 50 or 60 times.) With each lift, he measured the weight of the honey inside: too light and the colony is weak and underpopulated, too heavy and the hive is overcrowded and the bees may end up abandoning it entirely. Johnson marked the light hives with a dry cowpat so he would know which to feed with sugar syrup later. Every now and then, he paused for a moment and leaned his good ear towards a hive, squinting through the veil. A strong hive hums deep like an engine. The weak ones are faint, almost a hiss. Others, completely silent. The dead hives got two cowpats.

Every beekeeper in the country stares down at boxes and boxes of dead hives each year. Since 2006, the industry has scrambled to repopulate bees quickly enough to match the devastating yearly mortality rates temporary solutions for a long-term problem. Johnson guesses that he usually loses about 30% of his hives right around the industry average. Keepers spread out the survivors, splitting hives by artificially introducing new queen bees, as well as medicine and protein supplements. Its pretty much like feeding them McDonalds, Johnson said.

Beekeepers tend to shrug at media reports about the mysteries of colony collapse. They know the causes of declining bee health, as industry insiders refer to it, and what has created todays hostile environment for their colonies. Its more difficult to keep bees alive and healthy today than its ever been, said Gene Brandi, president of the American Honeybee Federation. One major problem is overgrazing. The pollination boom has invited droves out-of-state beekeepers that compete for the dwindling forage land.

Bees need good nutrition to stay healthy and to fend off disease, which is often introduced by humans. Farmers constantly experiment with new pesticide sprays that can choke baby bees before they hatch. The hive is more of an organism, the individual bee more like a cell, said Katie Lee, a researcher at the Bee Informed Partnership. And every new airborne chemical can threaten those cells.

But the majority of scientists and keepers agree that the most pernicious threat to bees is the varroa destructor mite. It arrived in Florida in 1987 and spread fast. (Honeybees, an invasive species themselves, arrived in the late 17th century.) In a TED Talk from 2014, beekeeper John Miller called varroa a dirty needle that transmits deadly diseases like a mosquito. In the video, he flips a slide to show baby bees covered in ticks. Its really hard to kill a bug on a bug, Miller says, pausing for effect. But if we dont, were going to lose our bees.

On 7 January, 2015, four days after they met in Diablo Grande, Johnson and Villafan were together again in Stanislaus County court. Annette Rees, a rising star in the district attorneys office who handles the countys most violent cases, happened to be in the courtroom as the magistrate read out the charges. A 487, the penal code for grand theft. Beehives. Rees raised an eyebrow.

She approached Johnson in the hallway after the hearing. He told her that this was fourth time his livelihood had been stolen out from under him. They caught the first guy in 2003. He had gutted Johnsons colonies, moved the bees to his own boxes, and then tossed Johnsons shattered hives into a riverbed and he got off with only a misdemeanor. Rees did not want that to happen this time, so she asked to represent the beekeeper. Plus, she told me, it was a nice departure from the rapes and murders.

The preliminary examination was held on 27 March. Villafans public defender tried to have the charges reduced to a misdemeanour. He argued that his clients remorse about the crime and his record of good behaviour should warrant some leniency. I believe he was crying and stressed out about it, the lawyer told the judge, citing Villafans flushed face under the security guards spotlight. And him not sleeping a few days, you know, shows me he was extremely nervous and was unsure that he wanted to do something like this.

Rees was not buying it. This is an agricultural valley, she told the judge. Almonds are a huge part of our agricultural history and industry, and bees are critical for pollination of the almond trees. These were pollinating bees.

The beekeepers are already fighting the colony collapse disease, she continued. And to have someone simply go in the middle of the night, cut a fence, and make off with someones bee colonies is a very serious offence. We take it very seriously, especially, here in Stanislaus County.

On a working day, a beekeeper can be stung up to 60 times. Photograph: Brett Murphy

The judge maintained the felony charge of grand theft (stealing anything worth more than $950). On 12 May, Villafan signed a plea deal with the court: 120 days in prison,with restitution to Johnson, and community service afterwards.

After weeks of trying to reach him, Villafan called me on the phone one night, and agreed to meet in person. A few days later, I met with him at a Starbucks in the city of Turlock, California.

Villafan was waiting at the end of a long table, his hands around a cup. He smiled to greet me, but frowned when I took out my notebook. He asked why I cared about his story, his side of things. Its all in the police report, he said.

I was interested in what had happened in the minutes and days leading up to that night in Diablo Grande, I told him about anything I could not read in the public record. Ill tell you one thing, he finally said, and thats it. I scooched forward in my chair.

I was doing an investigation about why the colonies are dying. He said his public defender never let him make the case in court, but scientific research was the motive. I was short of bees because I was trying to buy bees, but nobody wanted to sell at that time. And the ones that I did have ran out.

He told me he had lost his factory job and decided to start a career in pollination. But first he wanted to determine if colonies were, as the news said, dying out at an alarming rate. I finished my research, Villafan continued. All the stuff that they say about bees dying and the stuff like that, thats not true. Theyre not dying because of whatever. If no one knows why theyre dying, then theyre lying. Thats like the mafia. You know beekeepers, maybe they want to keep the prices high.

On a warm afternoon in late July 2015, a few months after Villafan had been sentenced, Johnson made the rounds through a couple of bee yards in Diablo Grande, where he had come across one too many dead hives. He called up a friend and fellow beekeeper, Bob Renested, who breeds queen bees and sells them for about $20 each. Queen breeders are more common further north, but Johnson needed roughly a dozen that day. With enough care and the right maintenance, a beekeeper can take a single queen and build a full, 30,000-member hive over the course of a season. The keeper slowly introduces frames of unhatched baby bees and adults, who will mate with the queen to produce the colony.

Renested told Johnson to come on by, and that there was beer in the fridge. About 30 minutes later, they sat in the shade beneath Renesteds carport. Johnson had a beer can in his hand and a wooden crate by his feet, about the size of a lunch box, where 12 bees wiggled inside individual shelves. A crate of queens looks like a model building, each bee inside a flat of its own, no larger than a thumb.

Renested told Johnson that he was selling just two more queens today, and then he was done breeding for the season. A man had pre-ordered just two bees.

Then Renesteds phone rang. He told the buyer to come around back and headed off to his warehouse to grab the queens, leaving Johnson by himself.

A short man with square features walked around the corner. Johnson stood up and out of the shade to greet him. He cocked his head to the side and squinted hard at the buyer, who quickly darted his eyes to the dirt. Silence for a moment.

Whats your name? Johnson asked, incredulous. He doesnt always trust his bad eye, after all.

Pedro.

Pedro what? Still not convinced.

Pedro Villafan.

Johnsons voice climbed a couple octaves and he let out a burst of breath. You know me, dont you Pedro?

Villafan nodded. Johnson waited another awkward beat for him to answer the obvious question.

Well? Johnson finally yelled. Why arent you in jail?

Villafan had agreed to serve his time that August. (In the end, he was released on parole after 48 days. Its literally a slap on the wrist, Annette Rees said later. All that time and effort, its kind of disheartening.)

Renested returned from the warehouse and handed Villafan two tiny shelves, a single long, dark bee in each; no yellow stripes on them. Villafan paid the man while Johnson looked on. There stood the thief who, for Johnson, represented so much trouble and heartache and not just for himself, but for every beekeeper who has come across an empty patch of grass where his hives once buzzed.

Yet Johnson was not angry, or even worried.He just saw another outsider trying to break into the industry, maybe not a neer-do-well, but by no means part of the card-carrying club.

I hope those are for your bees, Johnson said.

Yes, came the reply. They are. With that, Villafan turned and walked away, disappearing into the valley.

Follow the Long Read on Twitter at @gdnlongread, or sign up to the long read weekly email here.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/10/06/sticky-fingers-the-rise-of-the-bee-thieves-brett-murphy/

[samanthasroberts]

Sticky fingers: The rise of the bee thieves | Brett Murphy

The Long Read: Bees have become a billion-dollar business. But who would try to steal them?

The bees crawled up the thiefs arms while he dragged their hive over a patch of grass and through a slit in the wire fence he had clipped minutes earlier. In the pitch dark, his face, which was not covered with a protective veil, hovered inches from the low hum of some 30,000 bees.

The thief squatted low and heaved the 30kg hive, about the size of a large office printer, up and on to the bed of his white GMC truck. He had been planning his crime for days. He knew bees how to work them, how to move them, and most importantly, how to turn them into cash.

He ducked back through the fence to drag out a second box, Johnson Apiaries branded over the white paint. Then he went back for another. And another.

The Diablo Grande foothills edge the western side of Californias vast Central Valley. During the day you can see rolling pastures and an endless quilt of farmland. But at night, it is so dark that you are lucky to see your hand in front of your face. The thief thought there was almost no chance that a motorist would pass by, let alone one who would notice him.

Jerry Phillips, a night manager for the areas water provider, spends his nights zooming between pump stations in the foothills. He knows every farmer and cowboy on the hills eight-mile stretch, including a local beekeeper named Orin Johnson. Johnson, who had been hit by bee thieves before, liked to alert potential witnesses. If you see anybody in there in the middle of the night, he had told Phillips, it aint me.

Sure enough, Phillips saw someone on his way down the parkway that night. He quickly phoned the nearby golf resort, which has its own roving security detail on the hill.

After the thief loaded the ninth hive, he sat behind the wheel, with the drivers-side door open. The truck was far from full, and there were almost 100 more boxes behind the fence for him to choose from. That meant a lot of money. The exact value of a hive is not standard it depends what you do with them but nine hives can bring in about $5,000 in just one year. And they are worth considerably more in the hands of a capable beekeeper who can maintain them season after season.

Suddenly, a wall of white light hit the thief from behind. He froze.

A security guard stood next to his patrol cars spotlight, keeping his distance. The guard, whose name was Dre Castano, inched forward, wary of being ambushed. He thought there was no way just one guy had got all of those big boxes into the truck on his own.

The thief climbed out of the car and turned into the light. He stood there alone, his eyes glazed over and sullen. Maybe a drunk driver, Castano thought. He asked for the mans ID.

Pedro Villafan, 5ft 2in tall, and 46 years old. He lived 20 minutes south, in Newman, another little town at the base of the foothills. He looked flushed, half-asleep. But he kept calm and answered Castanos questions. Yes, those were bees. No, they were not his. No, he did not work for Orin Johnson. Yes, he was stealing them.

Castano, surprised by Villafans immediate confession, put him in ziptie handcuffs and walked him to the backseat of his patrol car. Less than 45 minutes later, at about 3.40am, Johnson pulled up to the scene, now lit red and blue. A sheriffs deputy had just arrived, as well. He asked Johnson to identify the bees and sign an affidavit committing to press charges.

The suspect wants to talk to you, the deputy said to Johnson, motioning to his cruiser. Do you want to talk to him?

Johnson walked over and poked his head through the window.

I made a huge mistake, Villafan started.

Of course you did, Johnson interrupted, trying his best to remain composed.

I shouldnt have done this, the thief said. All my bees died.

These are strange times for the American beekeeper. In California, the centre of the industry, members of this tight-knit community find themselves enjoying an economic boom while trying to cope with environmental turmoil. And now theyre dealing with a new kind of criminal: the bee rustler. Every year, at the height of pollination season in the spring, dozens of nighttime thieves nobody knows exactly how many break into bee yards all over California to steal hives.

Farmers depend on bees, but they do not keep their own it is too costly, too time-consuming and too painful. So, they lease their pollinators from the commercial beekeeping industry, a fast-growing, national trade that underpins American agriculture.

About a third of the countrys beekeeping operations, known as apiaries, are in California, more than the next four states combined. It is a $1.8bn trade nationwide, driven by roughly 1,500 apiaries, which own 95% of the countrys bees. (About 60,000 hobbyists keep the other 5%.)

It was only recently that beekeeping became big business. For most of the 20th century, American beekeepers were primarily honey manufacturers. In order to manufacture good honey, they sought out open space where their bees could forage. Johnsons father knocked on farmers doors all over Stanislaus County for decades, often with his son in tow, looking for land away from humans and other bees. His proposition: my bees pollinate your crops, your crops feed my bees. They squared the deal with a handshake and a case of honey.

So it went for decades. But little by little, high-value crops such as pistachios, walnuts and mandarin oranges began to take up larger swaths of land all over Central Valley. The beekeepers realised that there was money to be made in pollination growers needed bees and were willing to pay rental fees, as if investing in airborne fertiliser. Once crops bloom, bees scatter skyward in a mushroom-cloud formation before darting for nectar in the open buds; grocery shopping, as one beekeeper described it. As they fly around, each bee grabs pollen from one tree and sheds it at another, exponentially boosting the number of leaves, flowers and nuts.

Brent Woodworth tends to his bees. Photograph: Brett Murphy

From the 1980s on, commercial keepers supplemented their honey business by renting out their bees at $25 per hive for a single, month-long bloom. A large-scale beekeeping operation would have thousands of hives (in addition to producing honey in the autumn), bringing in money from crop pollination: cherries, watermelons and everything in between. Small outfits such as Johnson Apiaries did not have to worry much about uncertain honey sales any more. There was more than enough opportunity to make up their revenue in the spring.

Commercial beekeeping was honest, sustainable and relatively free of competition, but not exactly a business others raced to join.

Then, in the early 2000s, two things shook up the industry. First, the world discovered almonds. Thanks to global demand, particularly from Asia, the nut has taken over Central Valley, nearly doubling its hectarage to 370,000 since 2005. California produces more than 80% of the worlds almond supply today. The boom brought with it an unprecedented demand for pollination. With bees, an almond tree produces 70% more nuts than without. Bees, one almond grower told me, are as important as water.

Second, the bees started to die. During the 2006 winter, beekeepers reported losing anything from 30% to 90% of their hives to disease, an unprecedented amount compared with previous decades, in which losses hovered around 10 or 15%. (The average death toll has since levelled to just under 30% each year.) Even Johnson, a second-generation keeper with honey in the blood, finds boxes and boxes of dead colonies every winter,and has to scrape out the crusted nectar and tiny corpses.

What became known as colony collapse disorder a lethal combination of disease, drought, land loss and pesticide use brought the industry to its knees, forcing hundreds of keepers, unable to maintain their hives through the cold winter, out of business.

But those who weathered the storm have benefited from simple economics: the national supply of bees fell, while demand for pollination has since quadrupled alongside almond growth. This year, almond farmers paid $180 to rent a single hive. And every half-hectare requires two hives.

The surge in bee rental prices in the valleyover the last decade has brought with it an unsettling rise in thefts. In 2015, poachers stole more than 1,700 hives and those are just the thefts that were reported. Last year was the first time anyone had actually counted, but beekeepers and law enforcement both say that the crime is becoming increasingly common. For small beekeepers such as Johnson, a few dozen hives going missing just before spring can bring ruin. Worst of all, everyone knows that the heists are inside jobs.

New keepers enter the industry hoping to cash in on the pollination boom and it is they who often end up becoming the chief suspects in bee robberies. They sign contracts in the autumn, lose their hives to disease in the winter, then steal to make back the difference in the spring. People are trying to meet their obligations at our expense, one recent victim told his local paper, after thieves made off with $100,000 worth of hives. Theres no doubt in my mind it was another beekeeper.

The seasoned, generational, conference-attending beekeepers trust one another. They drink beer and eat donuts together. They loan each other hives and equipment. They even share trade secrets, such as recipes for artificial pollen supplements. They were here long before the almond boom, and their sons beekeeping is a predominantly male industry will carry on their apiaries long after.But the Central Valleys beekeeping fraternity believes that a growing number of opportunists are now entering the business.

They get desperate, said Dion Ashurst, who is the president of the state beekeepers association. And they go out and do stupid stuff. A fourth-generation beekeeper and repeat victim, Ashurst called them fly-by-night criminals who may understand the ins and outs of beekeeping, but are not of the community. Another keeper and recent victim called them the industrys misfits and neer-do-wells.

Now thousands of hives are vanishing, taken with alarming precision and coordination at the very time their owners need them most.Every winter, more and more legitimate keepers, struggling to keep their bees alive, have woken to find their yards emptied and their livelihoods in sudden and serious jeopardy.

That Villafan was even caught is remarkable. Thieves in the Central Valley rarely end up in handcuffs, let alone face prosecution. Witnesses do not drive by often. At 42,000 square miles, the area is vast and isolated, yet still connected by freeway arteries helpful to thieves looking to make a fast getaway. With the right equipment, know-how, and a buyer already lined up, stealing hives is easy. A truck full of bees boosted at midnight in Stanislaus can be unloaded in a Kern County orchard, 200 miles away, by the morning.

The state beekeepers association offers a reward for anyone who helps catch a thief. The security guard who accosted Villafan in January 2015 got $1,000, although the sum can be as high as $10,000. The association likes to address the issue in its monthly board meetings. Minutes from one session last year read: An attempted hive theft in San Luis Obispo, but the thief dropped the hive and got stung a lot, leaving the hive where he dropped it. Law enforcement is after this thief!

Detective Rowdy Jay Freeman a backyard beekeeper himself drives out to meetings, conferences, bars and bee yards to meet the keepers. Hunting down bee thieves is a frustrating job, given the dearth of evidence. Where dozens or even hundreds of humming boxes sit one day, there are nothing but tyre tracks in mud the next, said Freeman. There are no witnesses out there in the country. In three years investigating rural crime, Freeman had not caught a single bee thief.

But that changed this year when he got a tip two counties south. Jacob Spath, a young beekeeper short on his contracts after a tough winter, had backed a flatbed truck into a bee yard and made off with 60 hives. Two days later, Spath was negotiating prices with a broker, when a friend of the victim spotted the boxes, recognised the name, and called the police. Freeman arrested him that week.

Now the district attorney is looking to make an example of Spath by charging him with grand animal theft, a felony that carries a much higher possible sentence than ordinary grand theft. Spath pleaded guilty in April and could serve three years in prison possibly more, depending on the judges valuation of the bees. The specific penal code only mentions large animals, including horses, goats, cows, mules, sheep, hogs and boars. This will be the first time in the history of California that someone is charged with grand animal theft for stealing bees.

In 2015, rustlers stole more than 1,700 hives and those are just the thefts that were reported. Photograph: Brett Murphy

Most thieves share Spaths modus operandi: steal a truckload of hives, drive them a few counties away, chisel the label off (or gut the frames completely and burn the box), then rent them out to almond farmers or brokers. Bee brokers typically help connect large, out-of-state keepers with farmers in the Valley. They tend tobuy wholesale, and ask few questions about the bees origins.

Half the industry is built on handshakes with the farmers, one beekeeper told me, millions of dollars every day without a single paper signed. Beekeepers try to look out for themselves and each other. A select few hire private security guardsor install expensive GPS chips in every hive. Others hide cameras in their yards or make nightly rounds in their trucks. Most simply brand every single piece of equipment with their name, number and a unique registration code in the hope that a friend may recognise their name if boxes go missing.

But none of that does much good after they have been taken and gutted. And the law only goes so far.Beekeepers are often forced to do their own sleuthing.Last year, Joe Romance, of Kern County, went to move 128 hives out of one of his bee yards,only to find them missing. There was talk around town about a beekeeper holding meetings in a coffee shop, selling half-price hives to almond growers. Romance, posing as a farmer, went to the mans house and found something like an automobile chop shop inside a warehouse. Three men were cracking open hundreds of boxes, removing the frames inside and assembling new hives.

Another beekeeper, Brent Woodworth, rented a small Cessna aircraft and flew it three hours in search of his $30,000-worth of stolen hives, his eyes trained on the tiny square specks below, looking for his specific bright yellow lids. It takes a thiefs constitution, Woodworth told me last winter while we ate lunch in his truck and gazed out on his bee yard, which was home to about 3,700 roaring hives. Some ballsy people, Ill tell you. He grabbed a bee off the radio and gave it a flick. Stealing from somebody is just about as bad as it gets. I think its just the worst thing you can do to a man.

Orin Johnson is 68, with an impressive belly and a mess of white hair. In 1969, he came home from Vietnam with two Purple Hearts, a bum eye and a blown eardrum. He went to night school on the GI Bill, participated in the free love, Woodstock era, married that pretty girl Patti from his apartment building, and went back to work at the telephone company Pacific Bell for almost two decades as a dial-up technician before taking over his fathers hives.

He thrived for years after returning to the bee life, maintaining the old accounts and finding plenty of his own. With some 500 hives and no employees, his operation is relatively small, but profitable. He stuck it out through a national tracheal mite epidemic in the 1980s; through a flood of Chinese honey that crippled domestic sales in the 1990s; and, so far, through the bee plague of the 2000s. Its a tough road to hoe, he told me once, no doubt about it.

More than a year after he caught the thief stealing his bees in Diablo Grande at 4am, Johnson and I left the wood furnace in his warehouse where tools line the walls, sawdust fills the air, and a keg of beer waits in a fridge draped in mardis gras beads and old photographs and headed into the foothills for a routine spot check. When we got there, sunlight smacked the clearing where his hives stood in the grass, each airborne bee a dark freckle on the sky. We put on veils and walked through the boxes.

Johnson in the workshop where he makes and mends his hives. Photograph: Brett Murphy

Johnson gave each hive a gentle lift with his bare hands. His hands are baseball mitts, swollen and dirt-stained, skin cracked at the knuckles and nails. (On a busy day, he can get stung 50 or 60 times.) With each lift, he measured the weight of the honey inside: too light and the colony is weak and underpopulated, too heavy and the hive is overcrowded and the bees may end up abandoning it entirely. Johnson marked the light hives with a dry cowpat so he would know which to feed with sugar syrup later. Every now and then, he paused for a moment and leaned his good ear towards a hive, squinting through the veil. A strong hive hums deep like an engine. The weak ones are faint, almost a hiss. Others, completely silent. The dead hives got two cowpats.

Every beekeeper in the country stares down at boxes and boxes of dead hives each year. Since 2006, the industry has scrambled to repopulate bees quickly enough to match the devastating yearly mortality rates temporary solutions for a long-term problem. Johnson guesses that he usually loses about 30% of his hives right around the industry average. Keepers spread out the survivors, splitting hives by artificially introducing new queen bees, as well as medicine and protein supplements. Its pretty much like feeding them McDonalds, Johnson said.

Beekeepers tend to shrug at media reports about the mysteries of colony collapse. They know the causes of declining bee health, as industry insiders refer to it, and what has created todays hostile environment for their colonies. Its more difficult to keep bees alive and healthy today than its ever been, said Gene Brandi, president of the American Honeybee Federation. One major problem is overgrazing. The pollination boom has invited droves out-of-state beekeepers that compete for the dwindling forage land.

Bees need good nutrition to stay healthy and to fend off disease, which is often introduced by humans. Farmers constantly experiment with new pesticide sprays that can choke baby bees before they hatch. The hive is more of an organism, the individual bee more like a cell, said Katie Lee, a researcher at the Bee Informed Partnership. And every new airborne chemical can threaten those cells.

But the majority of scientists and keepers agree that the most pernicious threat to bees is the varroa destructor mite. It arrived in Florida in 1987 and spread fast. (Honeybees, an invasive species themselves, arrived in the late 17th century.) In a TED Talk from 2014, beekeeper John Miller called varroa a dirty needle that transmits deadly diseases like a mosquito. In the video, he flips a slide to show baby bees covered in ticks. Its really hard to kill a bug on a bug, Miller says, pausing for effect. But if we dont, were going to lose our bees.

On 7 January, 2015, four days after they met in Diablo Grande, Johnson and Villafan were together again in Stanislaus County court. Annette Rees, a rising star in the district attorneys office who handles the countys most violent cases, happened to be in the courtroom as the magistrate read out the charges. A 487, the penal code for grand theft. Beehives. Rees raised an eyebrow.

She approached Johnson in the hallway after the hearing. He told her that this was fourth time his livelihood had been stolen out from under him. They caught the first guy in 2003. He had gutted Johnsons colonies, moved the bees to his own boxes, and then tossed Johnsons shattered hives into a riverbed and he got off with only a misdemeanor. Rees did not want that to happen this time, so she asked to represent the beekeeper. Plus, she told me, it was a nice departure from the rapes and murders.

The preliminary examination was held on 27 March. Villafans public defender tried to have the charges reduced to a misdemeanour. He argued that his clients remorse about the crime and his record of good behaviour should warrant some leniency. I believe he was crying and stressed out about it, the lawyer told the judge, citing Villafans flushed face under the security guards spotlight. And him not sleeping a few days, you know, shows me he was extremely nervous and was unsure that he wanted to do something like this.

Rees was not buying it. This is an agricultural valley, she told the judge. Almonds are a huge part of our agricultural history and industry, and bees are critical for pollination of the almond trees. These were pollinating bees.

The beekeepers are already fighting the colony collapse disease, she continued. And to have someone simply go in the middle of the night, cut a fence, and make off with someones bee colonies is a very serious offence. We take it very seriously, especially, here in Stanislaus County.

On a working day, a beekeeper can be stung up to 60 times. Photograph: Brett Murphy

The judge maintained the felony charge of grand theft (stealing anything worth more than $950). On 12 May, Villafan signed a plea deal with the court: 120 days in prison,with restitution to Johnson, and community service afterwards.

After weeks of trying to reach him, Villafan called me on the phone one night, and agreed to meet in person. A few days later, I met with him at a Starbucks in the city of Turlock, California.

Villafan was waiting at the end of a long table, his hands around a cup. He smiled to greet me, but frowned when I took out my notebook. He asked why I cared about his story, his side of things. Its all in the police report, he said.

I was interested in what had happened in the minutes and days leading up to that night in Diablo Grande, I told him about anything I could not read in the public record. Ill tell you one thing, he finally said, and thats it. I scooched forward in my chair.

I was doing an investigation about why the colonies are dying. He said his public defender never let him make the case in court, but scientific research was the motive. I was short of bees because I was trying to buy bees, but nobody wanted to sell at that time. And the ones that I did have ran out.

He told me he had lost his factory job and decided to start a career in pollination. But first he wanted to determine if colonies were, as the news said, dying out at an alarming rate. I finished my research, Villafan continued. All the stuff that they say about bees dying and the stuff like that, thats not true. Theyre not dying because of whatever. If no one knows why theyre dying, then theyre lying. Thats like the mafia. You know beekeepers, maybe they want to keep the prices high.

On a warm afternoon in late July 2015, a few months after Villafan had been sentenced, Johnson made the rounds through a couple of bee yards in Diablo Grande, where he had come across one too many dead hives. He called up a friend and fellow beekeeper, Bob Renested, who breeds queen bees and sells them for about $20 each. Queen breeders are more common further north, but Johnson needed roughly a dozen that day. With enough care and the right maintenance, a beekeeper can take a single queen and build a full, 30,000-member hive over the course of a season. The keeper slowly introduces frames of unhatched baby bees and adults, who will mate with the queen to produce the colony.

Renested told Johnson to come on by, and that there was beer in the fridge. About 30 minutes later, they sat in the shade beneath Renesteds carport. Johnson had a beer can in his hand and a wooden crate by his feet, about the size of a lunch box, where 12 bees wiggled inside individual shelves. A crate of queens looks like a model building, each bee inside a flat of its own, no larger than a thumb.

Renested told Johnson that he was selling just two more queens today, and then he was done breeding for the season. A man had pre-ordered just two bees.

Then Renesteds phone rang. He told the buyer to come around back and headed off to his warehouse to grab the queens, leaving Johnson by himself.

A short man with square features walked around the corner. Johnson stood up and out of the shade to greet him. He cocked his head to the side and squinted hard at the buyer, who quickly darted his eyes to the dirt. Silence for a moment.

Whats your name? Johnson asked, incredulous. He doesnt always trust his bad eye, after all.

Pedro.

Pedro what? Still not convinced.

Pedro Villafan.

Johnsons voice climbed a couple octaves and he let out a burst of breath. You know me, dont you Pedro?

Villafan nodded. Johnson waited another awkward beat for him to answer the obvious question.

Well? Johnson finally yelled. Why arent you in jail?

Villafan had agreed to serve his time that August. (In the end, he was released on parole after 48 days. Its literally a slap on the wrist, Annette Rees said later. All that time and effort, its kind of disheartening.)

Renested returned from the warehouse and handed Villafan two tiny shelves, a single long, dark bee in each; no yellow stripes on them. Villafan paid the man while Johnson looked on. There stood the thief who, for Johnson, represented so much trouble and heartache and not just for himself, but for every beekeeper who has come across an empty patch of grass where his hives once buzzed.

Yet Johnson was not angry, or even worried.He just saw another outsider trying to break into the industry, maybe not a neer-do-well, but by no means part of the card-carrying club.

I hope those are for your bees, Johnson said.

Yes, came the reply. They are. With that, Villafan turned and walked away, disappearing into the valley.

Follow the Long Read on Twitter at @gdnlongread, or sign up to the long read weekly email here.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/10/06/sticky-fingers-the-rise-of-the-bee-thieves-brett-murphy/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/10/06/sticky-fingers-the-rise-of-the-bee-thieves-brett-murphy/

[cabiba]

This past Saturday I drove down to the local gun store in my quaint mountain town to pick up some bismuth shells, just in time for an early morning Sunday hunt. As I perused the impressive selection of bird bashers, a small fracas in my periphery began rising to a twangy crescendo. I rounded a rack of turkey calls to investigate, and found a few grizzled local woodsmen huddled around a fuzzy monitor bolted to the ceiling, barking the ghostly specter of Sean Hannity through its pixelated display. The men stirred.“Paid Protesters!” One grumbled.“George Soros!” Exclaimed another.

I winced and felt the hot flush of embarrassment creep across my face as the screen danced with black-clad anarchists, gleefully smashing windows and tossing trash cans. Overpowered with nostalgia, I thought back to the sparse coffee shops and dimly-lit dish pits where my comrades and I would plot our insidious coups, against the oppression of plate glass windows and aluminum trash cans, and couldn’t help but laugh at the idea that global billionaires were somehow tugging on the puppet strings. I’m afraid the truth is far more desperate.

I spent nearly a decade of my young life in ‘hard’ left movements. I spent my teens printing zines, organizing, squatting, and worshipping the ironically “bourgeois” intelligentsia that pandered to our leftist sensibilities. At the core of my ideology was a burning desire for liberty and an intense distrust of the state. In the beginning, I might saunter into the local cooperative and find an impassioned debate over the legitimacy of insurrectionary movements abroad, or the most practical way to pirate electricity without being discovered. Over time, the fiery rhetoric became dogma, penetrating my psyche right down to its id. I saw the state’s oppression in everything and everyone. I noticed behavioral patterns of violence and subjugation that seemed to reproduce to infinity. And through this new countenance, the changing face of leftism was obscured to me.

The New Social Justice

Social Justice was always a welcome addendum to anti-statist leftism for me. I gladly assumed the mantle and answered the call to march for police accountability, for women’s rights, for the ethical treatment of gays. The concept of ‘intersectional Social Justice’ was then a contentious one among many left-wing radicals, seen by many as a willful distraction from the core anti-statist message of our ideology, and worthy of only a small devotion. To focus too heavily on social issues was said to the be the resting place of sleepy liberals. And liberals, perhaps even as much as skinheads or the police, were the bane of the radical left. They meant to co-opt our movement and reacquaint us with their ineffective and self-aggrandizing brand of sedition and hoped to lasso a few of us back into the electoral process (abstaining from which was radical dharma at the time). They were, in short, a generally unwelcome addition to our ranks, and would usually turn their backs at the first mention of truly anti-statist politik.

I had more exposure than most to the left-wing radical “scene,” as it were, traveling to convergence spaces and conferences, worker-owned collectives and the like. I noticed a shift in the demographic makeup of the movement that became more pronounced with time. Character archetypes abound in the radical sphere, from crusty professors to dreadlocked primitivists, (and that leftist holy grail, the disaffected executive, living, perhaps, in a yurt or some otherwise subversive structure on some land that probably doesn’t belong to him), became more and more sparse. There was a new contingent of leftists, a new archetype that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. (The radical space was not exactly adept at coalition-building, keep in mind). These new figures were polished, soft-speaking, and shied away from the hardline agitprop of resistance. Gone were the ‘zines adorned with flaming police cars, replaced by new editorials that opined the importance of gender fluidity and other obtuse concepts. A new language began to congeal, an especially elitist dialectic that almost required translation to English.

The new language was accompanied by new tactics. Affinity meetings that were once hotbeds of dissent began to seem more like kangaroo courts. Arguments began to spring from the nascent well of discontent, and “accountability” hearings were the new norm, a process more often than not designed to elucidate the accused’s latent homophobia or racism. Arguments against the state were shelved more often than not in favor of presentations on a seemingly endless parade of ‘passive’ social injustices.

The old radical paradigm, in rudiment, went like this: “America was founded upon slavery, therefore America is racist, We are here because we disagree with racism.” The implied understanding was that because we had all found each other through our mutual disgust with what we had determined was a racist system that unfairly penalized minority populations, then we had already rejected a racist worldview. Thus our deliverance and rebirth occurred. It was understood to be innate to our shared ideology, and therefore our collective will could be focused and our mutual intent had been decided. This formed the basis for an arguably unified front that could be assembled and directed at will. But this mutual understanding was being corroded by a new, pernicious force that had infested every corner of the space. Anti-fascist organizers were no longer satisfied by directing their ire towards governmental institutions or hate groups and instead turned the looking glass inward. The toxic rancor of racism was found in our own ranks, by God!

Racism was found by the New Left to be inherent in all “whites.” (Racism is now said in the left to be a confluence of power and bigotry. Minorities, lacking the key ingredient of power, are exempt from this distinction.) Cis-gendered people (those of us who identify with our birth sex) were asked to “make space” for those that were not. Special privileges to be heard were conferred to the most oppressed within the group. This led to a bizarre new struggle within the movement over who might lay claim to being the most truly oppressed. The left was consumed by this new drive to expose the innate bigotry of the majority, especially within our own sphere. Where activists were once excommunicated over allegations of collusion with the authorities, they were now cast out frequently by accusations of complacent prejudice.

Friend and Foe in the New Left

Truth be told, I do not disagree with many of these indictments of mainstream culture. Inequities are certainly rampant in our society and must be illustrated and corrected. But the new face of the radical left seemed to be devouring itself. Where we had once in unison identified the state as the malevolent genesis of our oppression, our peers were now the true oppressors. The state apparently had not been oppressing us nearly as much as we had been oppressing one another. Anecdote became empirical, and experiences became the radical eucharist. Personal accounts of bigotry were now to be equivalent to universal and incontrovertible truth. A culture of martyrdom arose wherein victimhood was conflated with benevolence.

In the time before this new left, the directive was crystal clear: to illustrate the oppression of the state as it occurs to most everyone in the country, in the form of endemic poverty, uncorrected sickness, bankrupt free trade agreements, and the formation of a global police state. Organizers could mobilize radicals en masse to demonstrate against these societal evils, recalling the controlled chaos of the Seattle WTO demonstrations, or the significant uprising in Miami against the FTAA in 2003. The scene had now become almost entirely disjointed, and the former amalgamation of radicals ceased to exist. The radical left had become an especially tiresome arm of the progressive centrists, now content to lobby the state for greater societal controls rather than demand its abolishment.

There was only a small faction of anti-statist minded radicals left in the fray, and it was in them (and me) that the responsibility to carry on the tradition of rejecting the state and fighting for liberty. Instead, they clung to the antique tactics of property destruction and rock-tossing. The problem being, these tactics were complementary ones, meant only to supplement a coherent and organized radical left movement that had ceased to exist. They were to be an organ of outrage designed to counterbalance a cogent and heady vanguard of intellectual radicals. These radicals have become dinosaurs, defecting for the higher moral ground of the new left lest they fall victim to the witch hunt.

A Wayward Movement

The left has lost its traction by alienating average people and turning its intent towards social issues that are codified for inclusion. And of course, their argument is no longer to abolish the state, but to beg for benevolence at the feet of a corrupt government. I could not fathom how a group of people could move in a linear fashion from the idea that the central state was incorrigibly corrupt to the notion that we could somehow force it to provide for our interests. In a time of endemic poverty, I could no longer bear the guilt of selfishly aligning myself with a movement that seemed less concerned with exposing a secret war in the Middle East than it was with exposing my friends and peers as patriarchal villains.

In my last dark days with the left, I pleaded for objectivity, reason, rationale. These requests fell on deaf ears and nearly always resulted in a collective tongue lashing against my perceived ignorance. Why, they demanded, could I not accept that my perspective was being undermined by my ‘whiteness’? Why, if I was so committed to change and righteousness, could I not separate the evil archonic male desire from my true self? My positions, they would argue, had become tainted, infected by my hetero-ness, my maleness, my caucasian-ness. The whole world was a giant quagmire.

It occurs to me from time to time, usually in the throes of insomnia, that the state may have supplanted these contentious narratives within the space to misdirect and discredit the radical left, although this possibility has ceased to be relevant. The sad truth to behold is that the last actors in the space took to the streets to smash Starbucks’ windows and foolishly posture when they should have been pleading with their peers to reconsider a truly anti-statist perspective. In a last hurrah of hedonistic self-satisfaction, they have delivered the final blow to the radical left.

[lindafrancois]

All you need to know about Acidity!

Are you burning up from inside and commonly attribute it to jealousy? Well, for starters, that could be the acidity speaking.

Acidity is one of the most common problems seen in everyone, including the clients of Truweight. While it isn’t a major condition like diabetes or heart disease but the discomfort it causes is equivalent or even more. There can be different symptoms of acidity as well as its causes. For different cases, the reasons or causes differ, and therefore, the dietary approach has to be customized according to their causes.

Content Summary

Symptoms of Acidity

Common Acidity-related Food Myths

Causes of Acidity

Cure Acidity Permanently

Home Remedies for Acidity

Do you suffer from acidity and are brushing it under the carpet? Consult a Truweight Nutrition Coach for FREE and understand the underlying causes and symptoms of acidity to prevent acidity from crippling your life. 

Take the case of a 51-year-old Truweight client. She achieved her weight loss goals, was happy with the program but routinely suffered from acidity attacks. She was worried sick that the attack might repeat.

Upon careful consideration, we found that her major acidity triggers were acidic/ sour foods including buttermilk and raw vegetables and vegetable juice. Her diet plan was changed to suit her needs.

Symptoms of Acidity

Although heartburn or a burning sensation in the chest are the common symptoms of acidity, there can be other symptoms too.  Below is the list of those symptoms. Make a note of it so that you won’t be late identifying the acidity attack. 

Indigestion

Constipation

Restlessness

Nausea

Burping

Sour taste

Common Acidity-related Food Myths 

Is cold milk good for acidity?

Having an attack? People will rush to you with a whole world of solutions.

The most common and popular one being the cold milk! We explore 2 such foods which are supposed to cure acidity permanently whether they really work!

a] Is cold milk good for acidity?

Cold milk only provides temporary relief from heartburn or acid reflux. If you happen to drink cold milk on a full stomach, then chances of it releasing acid increases. Instead, go for a glass of water!

b] Which fruit juice is good for acidity?

Any non-citrus fruit juices can provide relief. Which means vegetable juices like carrot juice, aloe vera juice. apple juice and green leafy juice are fine. Citrus fruits can increase acid secretion.

Dietitians record a detailed diet and lifestyle history to know what suits the clients and which foods can trigger unwanted symptoms.

Most often, information on food sensitivities are either not known or remains undisclosed at the time of diet history. It is best, to be honest about it to your dietitian and bare your heart out!

Get FREE Weightloss Consultation Today!

Causes of Acidity

What are the reasons for acidity?

1. Long gaps between meals

Irregular meal timings, long and odd working hours are some of the common reasons. Most people working the night shift have acidity and other gastric problems.

2. Sensitivity to sour foods

Many people cannot tolerate sour foods, this can aggravate their acidity. For some, acidity can be aggravated even with mild acidic food.  

Usually, acid-containing food like Trujuice, Amla drink, lemon water, citrus fruits are not tolerated on empty stomach. You can try to eat them at different timing by combining with a neutral food.

3. Consuming too much coffee or tea

This again is a common cause. When taken on an empty stomach, tea or coffee could trigger acidity.

4. High fibre foods may cause acidity

Many women face acidity problems after starting on high fibre foods like brown rice, vegetable juice, raw salads, sprouts etc.

In such cases, they can gradually proceed from white rice to semi-polished rice. Boiled or steamed vegetables and sprouts are rather better than raw.

They can consume Trufiber with small quantity until they are comfortable to increase further.

5. Gut bacteria imbalance

Imbalance in the gut bacteria can also cause acidity. This can be tackled by having probiotic supplements and foods with a natural probiotic like buttermilk.

6. Spicy food

Most people with acidity complaint cannot tolerate spicy food as spices increase acid secretions in the stomach.

7. Low acid level

While acidity always brings out the image of excess acid secretion; bloating and indigestion also falls under this category.

For many people, low stomach acid production can hinder digestion and cause bloating. In such cases, acidity and bloating can be managed by dietary modification. Adding a few acidic foods can help.

8. Lack of sleep

Sleep deprivation is found to be associated with an increased GERD condition. GERD is Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease. The sleep deprivation causes fatigue that can inhibit stomach functions. Also, lack of sleep and stress can be promoting acid formation in the stomach. [1]

9. Too much stress

There isn’t a direct connection found that can show how stress results in acidity in the stomach, however, there are many studies that show that stress can be a crucial factor in producing GERD symptoms. There are studies that show people with work-related stress are significantly more at risk for GERD symptoms. [2]

10. Other food sensitivities

Food sensitivities like alcohol, gluten, dairy etc can also cause acidity.

11. Medications

Antibiotics, steroids, anti-depressants etc can lead to low acid levels.

Bottom-line – Understand the underlying cause of acidity and the related symptoms. The first and foremost thing would be to eliminate the cause rather than giving our own remedies.

What is hyperacidity?

Hyperacidity is a medical condition wherein the stomach is known to secrete an abnormal level of acid. Hurry, worry, and spicy curry are the reasons for hyperacidity. How to know if you have hyperacidity? Well, you will have symptoms like sudden stomach pain, vomiting, loss of appetite, flatulence, and heartburn. 

Cure Acidity Permanently

How to cure acidity permanently?

You can say goodbye to acidity forever by tweaking your lifestyle. Here are 4 simple ways you can do that.

1. Eating and lifestyle

Acidity can be conquered by simply tweaking your diet.

For starters, always prefer foods that are low in fat but high in protein! So when given an option to consume grilled chicken sandwich or paneer sandwich or pizza; go for the protein sandwich.

Eating small frequent meals is also a trick so that you give something to your stomach acid to keep working on.

And importantly remember ‘Hara Hachi Bu’ which means don’t stuff yourself till you feel full.

2. Know your triggers

Does chocolate bring out the acidity attack or is it that can of cola? DO you feel your throat burning after that evening cup of coffee?

Then try eliminating these foods from your diet and notice if it makes a difference!

3. Sleep makes the difference

To counter acidity, you need to get 8 hours of sleep. Sure! But according to WebMD, these sleeping positions can help you counter the flush of stomach acid into your food pipe.

Trick 1: Place few logs of wood under the head of the bed. This will help keep the contents of the stomach to travel up and prevent heartburn. More pillows under your head don’t help so much.

Trick 2: Give a gap of 2-3 hours after dinner

4. Adopting a Healthy Lifestyle

Acidity is not a serious condition, you can overcome it if you follow some healthy lifestyle tips. We have a detailed video which enlists some healthy lifestyle tips to follow.

Apart from these healthy lifestyle tips, you can remember these points too:

Don’t wear tight belts or pants as it can put pressure on your belly. It could make the stomach acid travel upwards into the food pipe to cause heartburn. 

If you are obese or overweight, then it is just like like wearing a tight belt! Lose some weight now. Here is a good start for you, a free consultation from a Truweight nutritionist.

Stop smoking if you do! Smoking increases the secretion of stomach acid and this one can’t be managed simply by dietary changes.

Home Remedies for Acidity 

Some Acidity home remedies work like magic!

Although doctors may recommend an antacid whenever you are down with a bad bout of acidity, some home remedies can be the first step to cure acidity permanently. We list them down and how to eat them for you.

1. Banana

Ripe bananas have potassium which can reduce the production of stomach acid. Overripe ones have even more! So when everything seems to be burning up, douse the flames with a ripe banana

2. Tulsi

Chewing on 5-6 tulsi leaves can help abate the acid waves in the body. Why tulsi? Because it helps produce mucous, the slimy protective layer in the food pipe which makes it immune to the acid attack.

3. Aniseed or saunf

The volatile oils in these fragrant seeds does the trick. Chew a few and find relief. Or add a teaspoon in a glass of hot water, strain and drink the water.  

4. Jeera, clove and elaichi

This is for indigestion related acidity. All these masalas help stimulate the saliva and jack up the digestion process.

5. Mint leaves

Just as mint is associated with a cooling effect, it does exactly the same to your stomach too. Chew a few leaves or boil them in water to have their essence.

6. Amla

According to Ayurveda, amla’s vitamin C is a kappha and pitta pacifier! A teaspoon of amla powder consumed twice a day can do the trick.

Next Read:

5 Healthy Lifestyle Tips to Start Your Day With

Healthy Eating Habits to Lose Weight

8 Amazing Weight Loss Home Remedies

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